THRAINE

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. They’d arrived in chains and cages a week ago, along with the news that Emperor Titus Cereillius was dead.

“That boy sent those dragons here to kill us!” a panicked elder shouted. “Soon they will break from those chains and cages. They’ve all probably not eaten in weeks!” The six elders were gathered around a long table in the town meeting hall. A humble building with crude walls of rock and concrete. At the end of the table the town praetor presided over the meeting. Behind him a large fireplace burned strongly. All the elders were looking towards his dark silhouette in the yellow and orange light.

“How long do you think we have?” asked the praetor.

“Of the twelve dragons,” a calmer elder answered. “The six tri-sorigans and the three verators won’t ever break from their bonds. The two bronco-sorigans… I would have to estimate three days. But the draco-rex-”

“Plaigos!” the panicked elder interrupted. “The town’s people have already named him after the ancient god of chaos and ruin! Seneus, we can’t wait any longer! We need action!”

“That’s enough, Piso!” Seneus, the town Praetor, snapped. He let a cold stare hang on the panicked elder, Piso. Seneus then turned back to the calm elder. “Hadrian, when do you think this draco-rex, Plaigos, will break free?”

“As soon as he wakes, my lord. Which would likely be by midday tomorrow.” The meeting hall became silent. The weight of Hadrian’s answer hung over Seneus and the six gathered elders.

“Why in the name of the grand god Seravus did that boy do this,” the youngest of the elders exclaimed.

“Have you not heard, Daio?” Hadrian asked the youngest elder. “These twelve were personal pets of the late emperor Titus. The soldiers I spoke to informed me that Prince Lucilius always hated these creatures. But once he became Emperor Lucilius he ordered them removed. Rather than send them west all the way to the lands of Soriga where these beasts hail from… the boy prince thought it’d be… easier and appropriate to have that small army of soldiers and thralls drag them to the Valley of exiles.” Hadrian paused, the only sound in the room was the crackle of the fireplace and the anxious breathing of the other elders. “The young emperor thinks he’s being very funny treating these beasts the same as any other exile from Thraine.”

“He’s being a fool!” Daio yelled. “These are wild beasts! After they destroy us they will move west towards the empire! Then they will surely destroy-“

“He’ll send apprentice Vyre,” Seneus interrupted. “There’s probably a whole class of apprentices who are relieved they’ll be able to hunt their first dragon and take their black ivory for their armor without having to make the journey to Soriga.” Daio lowered his head, deflated. “We have a few mystic practitioners in our town,” Seneus continued. “But we have none at the level of Vyre who can lul a dragon to sleep and more importantly… we have no black ivory weapons to pierce their scales.”

“Seneus,” an elder who’d been silent spoke up. “What do you then propose we do?”

“We must wait on my mother,” Seneus answered. The elders exchanged worried glances.

“Your mother is still in meditation?”

“She is.”

“Could we perhaps… wake her-”

“We will do no such thing, Crassus.”

“My lord,” Hadrian interjected. “We understand your faith in your mother’s wisdom. We all know it was her wisdom and your late father’s leadership that turned this exile outpost into a thriving refuge.”

“Get to it, Hadrian.”

“Given the… time sensitive nature of this threat we now face… we…”

“We can not sit around and wait on that witch!” Piso rose from his seat. His angry face glowed yellow in the firelight. “We must abandon the Valley! We must flee!”

“Piso! You speak out of turn one more time and I will bar you from this meeting!” Seneus stood to match the elder. Piso instantly cowered and lowered himself to his seat. Seneus was much younger than Piso and had an impressive stature. Both men knew the praetor could break the elder easily. Seneus turned his gaze back to the table and remained standing. “The Valley, this town founded by my father to be a refuge for himself and other political exiles, cannot afford to flee. We will lose everything we’ve spent a generation building. Our farms are now not only self-sufficient but in trade with other tribes and territories outside of the empire. We are growing. In a generation we could create a public school, an army, a thriving populace! We will become a true City-State! We can’t abandon all we’ve built.”

“All we’ve built is why Lucilius has sent the dragons here,” Crassus spoke. “He knows most of us in this room were exiled because we took part in the Theneus conspiracy. He knows that despite the various crimes of the exiles who reside in our town, murderers, theives, tax cheats, and others… There is one crime they all share. They all have no love for the emperor. They all want a return to the Triumvirate elected by the senators. The Triumvirate that Titus destroyed with a well crafted lie and a cowardly senate. This new emperor Lucilius knows we are a threat.”

“We can’t be a threat,” Daio spoke. “We’re a small refuge of exiles. We have no army. We could never-”

“For an emperor, armies aren't the greatest threat. I spoke at length with the soldiers who brought those caged beasts into the Valley. There are rumors that the new Emperor wishes to do away with exile and bring back the old form of high punishment…”

“Execution?” Hadrian asked. Crassus nodded.

“Impossible!” Piso exclaimed. “Citizens of Thraine cannot be executed! That is perhaps the greatest thing that seperates a citizen from a thrall! Every Thrainian citizen is a lord unto himself.”

“Yes. A noble idea,” Crassus began. “And noble ideas are the greatest threat to an Emperor. All of us who draw breath here are a living embodiment of that noble idea. We were found guilty of crimes deemed worthy of the greatest punishment and our punishment was to seek freedom elsewhere. We were stripped of our titles, our lands, our coins, and our thralls but we were allowed to live. To seek refuge and start over. We lost everything but our lives. For all of us the loss that came with exile was devastating but devastation can be overcome so long as one is still alive. So long as we were alive then we at least still had hope.” Crassus stopped speaking and looked at his right hand. He wrapped his fingers on the table twice then looked back up. “Those dragons have been sent to destroy us. Lucilius is allowing us to choose our destruction. Either we flee and lose everything we’ve built or we stay and allow the dragons to devour us. Either way, our destruction is inevitable.”

Despite the strong fire the room felt cold for all seven men who had gathered to discuss a solution to a problem they all knew they couldn’t solve. Seneus was mulling over what his next words would be when the doors of the meeting hall flung open. All seven heads turned to see a breathless woman stammer into their meeting.

“Mother!” Seneus cried out.

The woman was drenched in sweat and her green eyes were wide with amazement. She wore a long green gown and a series of gold necklaces. Her red and silver hair was disheveled with many strains falling in front of her face. She seemed barely able to walk but despite her weakened state she staggered towards the meeting table.

“Have you brought us insight?” Hadrian asked. Seneus rushed to her side and caught his mother just as she began to fall.

“What did you see, mother?”

“Death…” she breathed. The elders all began to stiffen in quiet panic except for Hadrian.

“That is always what the mystic first sees. The mystic matches their vibration to death, the void, which may then reveal the answer the mystic seeks.” Hadrian informed the council. “What did the void reveal, Hypatia?”

Hypatia was still shaking but managed to slowly gather herself. She pushed her long red and silver hair out of her face and took a deep breath. “The poet,” she calmly answered. “I saw past death into the void and they revealed to me the poet.”

“The poet?” Piso spat with confusion.

“Phaedrus?” Hadrian asked. Hypatia nodded.

“The disfigured drunk? Surely this is a joke!” Crassus interjected.

Seneus took his mother’s hands in his and kissed them. “Hadrian, watch over my mother. She needs rest and nourishment.”

“It shall be done, my lord.”

“I’m taking my guards to see the poet. I call this meeting adjourned.”

With noble purpose Seneus stormed out of the meeting hall and greeted his two personal guards who stood outside the door. Piso slumped into his seat and turned to Crassus. “A poet is supposed to save us from these dragons?”

“No,” Crassus answered. “Death just wants a final laugh before claiming this Valley.”

Seneus made his way through the muddy town streets. A quick rain had just ended and the night sky was clear again. The street was bright with moonlight. The twin moons were full this evening. The Valley was indeed a town but one with only twenty or so crude buildings connected by dirt roads. Seneus looked to his right and saw between two houses that were spaced far apart. Only a few meters behind those houses were the dragons.

All were asleep. The Vyre’s had used a refined technique of the mystic art Vyranana to connect the vibration of their spirit to that of the dragon. This was a difficult feat. In the order of Vyranana accomplishing this and then slaying a dragon was the final test for an apprentice to prove themself and achieve the rank of Vyre. A warrior mystic. Seneus had learned of this from his father Theneus before his passing.

Dragons came in numerous different species and all had very distinctive appearances. The tri-sorigans, who were all sleeping two to a cage, were about the size of elephants. They had green scales along their bodies but yellow scales decorated their faces and tails. They had four legs and three impressive black ivory horns protruding from their face.

The three verators were all cramped in the same cage. They were the smallest of the dragons left in the Valley but they were still a terrifying sight. They stood about the same height as a grown man. They had orange bodies with black stripes. They stood on two powerful legs and had two skinny arms. They were pack predators and were known to attack entire convoys of men when Thraine began its conquest west into Soriga.

The two bronco-sorigans were too big for cages. They were both as large as two elephants and were instead tied down in a web of heavy chains on a large wheeled platform that an army of unfortunate thralls had been forced to drag all the way from Thraine. The journey, which normally took two weeks, must’ve taken them almost a month. Bronco-sorigans had long necks and flat teeth. Though powerful enough to destroy a city they were known to be gentle creatures. There were rumors that the Sorigan natives even rode these beasts but that had yet to be confirmed.

The most troubling of all however, was the draco-rex. The town’s people had named this slumbering beast Plaigos, after the ancient god of chaos and ruin. Like the verators a draco-rex stood on two powerful legs and had two rather skinny arms. However they were a crimson red with black stripes and one black horn protruding from their snout. They were also almost as large as a small mountain. It was difficult to tell as he slept beneath his crisscrossing chains but Plaigos would probably stand as tall as thirty meters once freed.

Seneus stopped to look at the creature and noticed that if he listened closely he could hear the small rattle of chains as the creature breathed in and out. Even in a deep sleep the chains seemed feeble compared to the might of Plaigos.

“Seneus!” A town's person anxiously approached the praetor. They were middle aged with a scraggly beard and bald head. Seneus knew them to be the town’s singular blacksmith. “What have you and the elders decided? Are we to flee?” Seneus pried his head away from the dragons.

“A decision has not been reached,” Seneus answered and returned to his determined stride from before.

“What? But… my lord! Plaigos!” The blacksmith stumbled to keep up with the praetor and the two guards who flanked him. Seneus turned left towards the ale house. As he entered the blacksmith frantically yelled, “My lord! This is no time for a drink!”

Many in the town must’ve been in disagreement with the blacksmith because the alehouse was full. Most of the town was convinced that Seneus and the elders would deliver an announcement telling them they would flee before the next sundown. For those who had patronized the ale house for many years tonight was a final celebration.

Seneus entered and found the place was in an uproar. The mood was so jovial that everyone seemed ignorant of the dragons. But in truth it was at the front of all their minds and as Seneus stepped further into the alehouse all the patrons became silent and their smiles fled. Seneus was aware that they were all waiting to hear what he’d say next. “Where is the poet, Phaedrus?” Seneus called out.

The once silent room now became a cacophony of confused murmurs. One young man stood up. “My lord! You truly seek Phaedrus, the poet?”

“Yes,” Seneus answered now annoyed. “I know he frequents this alehouse. Is he here now?”

“He is, my lord,” answered the young man frantically. He’s however… well… indisposed-”

“Then dispose of him to me,” Seneus snapped. “Where is he?”

“He’s… upstairs… my lord…”

Seneus rolled his eyes. “Take me to him, now.”

“Yes, my lord!” The frantic young man walked towards the stairs to the upper level of the ale house. Seneus and his soldiers followed and some patrons suppressed a snicker as he passed. Seneus didn’t fault them for their reaction. He knew what he was about to walk into.

At the top of the stairs was a long hall with several doors on either side. The frantic young man led Seneus and the guards to the third door on the right side of the room. The four men could all hear a woman giggling on the other side and then the hearty guffaw of a man. The frantic young man took a deep breath then knocked on the door. “Phaedrus?”

“Olenius?” a frazzled deep male voice called in response. “What the hell do you need? You know I’m with Liscillia!”

“Phaedrus…,” Olenius was even more frantic. “I need you to come out here-”

“Olenius! I worked like a thrall on Venerian’s farm for a month to save up the coin for tonight!”

“Just… just take a pause man!”

“A pause?”

“I keep a tight schedule,” a woman’s voice called out. “I don’t do pauses.”

“She doesn’t do pauses, Olenius. Please leave! I’ll meet you downstairs when I’m done.”

Seneus was impatient and decided he’d heard enough. “Break the door down,” he told his guards. The guards shoved Olenius out of the way. The larger of the two positioned his shoulder to the door and charged.

A crash of splinters flew into the room as the door swung open. Liscillia screamed with alarm and sat up on the bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin. Phaedrus however clumsily fell out of the bed and hit the floor naked. The groggy drunk naked man slowly sat up gripping his head.

To Seneus the man looked utterly pathetic. That was to say if he could even be called a man as he had to be as young as nineteen summers. Phaedrus pushed his shoulder length hair out of his face and looked up at Seneus. This gave the praetor a better look at the poet’s famous face. Above his right eye was a deep scar from which then several other scars snaked downward across his otherwise handsome face like vines on a wall.

“Seneus?” the confused disfigured poet asked. “My lord, I didn’t know you also patronize this fabulous establishment!”

“Get up and get dressed,” Seneus snapped. “I need you to come with me now.”

“But… my lord,” Phaedrus began to plead. “May I finish first?” Seneus blinked with astonishment. Olenius brought his hands to his face and even Liscillia shook her head. “I saved up all month and had to barter her four poems to get the night at a discount and-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your time with the sex merchant but I need you to get dressed and come with me now or-”

“My lord!” Seneus was cut off by a frantic whisper. A man entered the room in a panic and grabbed Seneus by the shoulder but was then pushed back by the large guard.

“Who are you?” asked Seneus.

“That’s Crallian,” Phaedrus answered for the man. “He owns this establishment.”

Seneus turned to Phaedrus with a fiery look. “In the name of the grand god Seravus,” Seneus began. “Do not speak again until you are clothed.” Phaedrus nodded as if he’d forgotten his state of undress and began to gather his tunic and under shorts. Seneus turned back to the panting Crallian. “What’s the concern, man?”

“There are others,” Crallian began. “Others here looking for the poet…”

“What others? What do they look like?”

“They’re… they’re clad in…” Crallian stuttered with fear.

“Out with it, man!”

“Black ivory. They’re Thrainian soldiers wearing black ivory.”

Seneus’s eyes became wide. “Black ivory armor? You’re saying they are-” Seneus was cut off by a crash and the scream of a man from downstairs. Seneus understood that the sound meant they had little time. “We can’t go back down there. Is there another way out from up here?”

“There is a ladder,” Crillian answered. “It’s mounted to the wall outside so the merchants and their clients might escape if there were ever a fire.” Seneus grabbed a now clothed Phaedrus by the arm.

“Come, now!” Seneus pulled roughly on the poet. “Graxus,” Seneus spoke to his larger guard. “Take the poet out the window and get him to my mother now.”

“Yes, my lord,” Graxus responded with a quick bow. “Come, poet!”

“My name is Phaedrus,” the boy grumbled but Graxus paid him no mind.

“The rest of you,” Seneus addressed the others gathered in the room. “Hide here until-“ Another loud crash and scream interrupted Seneus.

“Up there!” The pained voice of a man screamed. “Up there!” Then came a loud crunch and the man’s voice was gone. It was now replaced by the sound of determined footsteps and clanking armor.

“Damn the gods…” Seneus mumbled. “Out! All of you,” Seneus turned on all in the room. “Get out of the window now before-“

“Good evening!” A flat baritone voice called out. Seneus turned to face the voice. Standing at the top of the stairs were three soldiers. Two clad in black ivory and one clad in bronze. “We’re looking for a young man with a rather interesting vine scar.” The voice belonged to the tallest of the soldiers. He was a handsome young man with sinister dark eyes. His smile, though dashing, was also sinister as he slowly walked towards Seneus and the others gathered in the hall. “We described the man to the locals and do you know what they told us?” His dark sinister eyes landed upon Phaedrus who had only made it halfway down the hall before freezing in place. “They told us we were describing the local poet.” The soldier unleashed a loud mocking laugh. “Can you believe that? A poet! Who apparently calls himself Phaedrus? A very strange thing to hear… Since we were tasked by the great Emperor Lucillius to bring back the man with that appearance, we were not told he was a poet called Phaedrus.”

Seneus briefly looked at the poet and saw that he was seething. Something the soldier had said had struck him. Seneus also saw that it was obvious that the young men recognized each other. Seneus was curious but also much more afraid for himself and the rest in the hall. He understood how dangerous these soldiers were.

“Enough,” Seneus spoke. “I’m the praetor of this town and I command you allow us passage or-”

“A praetor!” The tall soldier laughed again. “You must be in charge of a sanctioned commune of the empire to be a praetor. Not the puppet king of an outpost of exiles.”

“Nevertheless…” Seneus seethed. “You will allow us passage or-” Before he could finish speaking Graxus charged past Seneus with his sword held high. “Graxus! No! He’s a-!”

The soldier raised his hand and Graxus was frozen mid-attack with his sword still raised.

“Your praetor and I were talking, you exiled filth,” the soldier spoke with total control.

“Noble Vyre,” Seneus began to plead. “Release my guard, please.”

“Very well,” the soldier then closed his fist and Graxus’s large body scrunched together like an autumn leaf in a child’s hand. The sound of his pained screams and cracking bones filled the hall. Then came a long silence followed by the heavy thud of his large body falling down dead. “He’s released.”

Seneus and gathered behind him stared at the destroyed body of the once strong guard. Seneus was the first to take his eyes off the body and instead focus his gaze back on the soldier.

“All of you,” Seneus began. “Run to the window now. Get Phaedrus out first-“

“Enough,” the soldier flatly stated before then raising his right hand in the direction of Seneus.

Seneus quickly brought his left hand to his chest and planted his feet as if expecting a tackle.

A gust of wind filled the hallway that caught Phaedrus, Olinus, Crallian, the surviving guard, and Liscillia off guard but not Seneus. He stood resolutely. The soldier’s face turned from confident to confused. He then suddenly dropped his arm and was now panting with exhaustion. In that instant Seneus ripped his hand away from his chest and as he flung a backhanded hit through the air a stronger gust of wind ripped towards the soldiers and then flung them onto their backs.

Seneus turned then ran towards Phaedrus. He grabbed the poet by the arm and half dragged him towards the window when they both froze in mid run. “Damn the gods…” Seneus seethed. Against their will both men slowly turned and faced the tall soldier with the sinister eyes. He was no longer smiling.

“You’re trained in Vyranana mysticism,” the angry soldier began. “I’m embarrassed that your elementary counter attack caught me off guard but I’m also impressed I wasn’t able to sense your vibration. You must have a very talented instructor.” The soldier then turned his sinister gaze to Phaedrus. “Of course whoever his instructor is they couldn’t possibly compare to ours. We were both instructed by the grand-lord of the Vyre order, Zenecus of Vyrano himself! Don’t you remember?”

“That’s enough, Cato,” Phaedrus spoke.

“So you remember my name,” Cato was now smiling again. “Do you remember yours? It certainly wasn’t Phaedrus and you were many brutal things but not a poet.”

“I said that’s enough-” Phaedrus was cut off as Cato tightened his grip. The poet’s body gave a small scrunch. Cato was toying with the threat of killing him as he had Graxus.

“Why don’t you remember your name? Why don’t you tell your praetor and your other friends in this hall who you are?” Cato took a step closer to the shaking men. Seneus eyed Phaedrus, curious for his response. Was there something more to this poet?

“My name is Phaedrus,” the poet answered.

“No!” Cato tightened his grip in the air and Phaedrus screamed in pain. “Try again! I was not tasked, by the emperor himself, to bring back a pathetic poet who calls himself Phaedrus.” Phaedrus was shaking with pain and anger. “I was tasked,” Cato continued. “To bring back a prince.”

Seneus was stunned. He now knew who the poet Phaedrus actually was. For five years now this boy had lived in their town claiming to be exiled for the crime of stealing from a senator’s villa. For five years they had laughed at this boy as he drank up what little money he had, read any book he could find in town, and write endless poems that he would barter for food, drink, and sex. For five years the town's people had been living side by side with the crowned prince of Thraine. The one who all the empire believed to have been killed in a mystic duel against his younger brother.

“You’re coming with me, little prince,” Cato continued. “Your brother wishes to gaze upon your disfigured face. But first you will finally admit to this heap of dragon dung you call a town your real name! What is your name?”

“My name,” the poet was shaking even more violently. The hallway began to shake as well. All in the hall including Cato took notice of it. The whole ale house was shaking. The whole town was shaking. As Phaedrus shook more violently the whole Valley shook with him. “My name… is PHAEDRUS!”

An earthquake shook the Valley. All in the hallway fell over including Cato. As Cato fell Seneus and Phaedrus also did. They were free from his spell. The earthquake then quickly dissipated. Everyone in the hallway was panting. Seneus looked at Phaedrus with fear and awe. Phaedrus looked back with a peculiar look that Seneus took for embarrassment. The poet even appeared to be almost apologetic.

A loud rattle of chains was then heard followed by another strong rumble only this one was clearly not an earthquake. The sound of rattling chains grew louder and between the rattling the distinct sound of iron snapping apart. Seneus was white with fear. While the rest in the hallway listened to the strange sounds confused, the praetor knew exactly what it meant. The rest all knew too when the snapping and the rattling was then drowned out by the sound of a draco-rex roaring at the twin moons.

Plaigos was free!