Tales of Cobardon

Chapter VII

Taperend

"It is over! All cause is lost! Now we shall vote, right?" Taperend said in a tone that brooked no arguments. The votes turned well in favour and now Dupark and Napemol were truly for Rulerstead, not a feigning alliance. He gathered up his dignity and marched out of the heavy oakengates. He mounted a horse and was off to see the dragons.

He was trotting on his horse when the sea blue sky started to morph into the seven godly colours and the sun began to set. The sun was a red hole in the milky red clouds as it lay on the horizon. The clouds sauntered about the sun like flies around a carcass. Further away from the sun the colours mixed and mingled in a peaceful harmony from the warm orange and yellow to the meager yet lush green to the darker and colder shades of blue.

By the time he reached the endless green parchment of earth where lay the single most intricate and magnification being, night had fallen. On his arrival the dragon flapped its large scaly wings which blew a strong gust causing the grass to dance like ripples in calm water. He neared the dragon with utmost caution not wanting to become a black, charred corpse crawling with maggots. The dragon saw him creeping towards it and blew two fiery, belligerent flames from its infuriated muzzle. Taperend tumbled in fright, his arm carrying a warning burn. He was in no haste we incinerated and reincarnated, again! Gathering his legs beneath him, he equally cautiously exited. With his back turned to the dragon, he was about to mount his horse when an unseasonal draught caught his neck and chilled Taperend to the bone. He swung around but his action was abnormally slow and clumsy. As he turned, he heard the dragon wail in a deep, dreadful and devastated moan of pain.

His eye should have popped out on such a glimpse - the dragon was vulnerable and helpless as it excruciatingly tried to wrench away from some invisible force. A gust barred his eyes for a moment. When he blinked open them, he stared aghast as he looked at the carcass. The dragon's wings, devoid of any life, lay slit by its side. The dragon had no head I just, just blood spraying out of the abruptly ending neck. His life's flame had died out.

A panic gripped his heart, crushing it under fear's firm fiery clutch. All courage evaded him. He would never be the same and again. Never!

A phrase echoed in his mind,

"The dragon robust, come to an end, so easily, has its life,

Then in this futile turmoil, how shall my fragile body survive?"

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Merisa

Merisa unwounded herself on the satin cushions after a mentally onerous day at court. She slumped with an elbow under her head and for a minute let all worries wash away and pretended that she was a mere villager and not the Lady of The Eye. Her eyes fixated on the breathtaking (and sometimes life taking ) scenery - the world was torn in two - uncountable and endless short green hair sprouting on brown, fertile scalp and the blue canvas where unceasing waves materialized and manifested out of nowhere. Then, all the thoughts and worries returned. She reminded herself why she had come all the way to the top of The Eye.

She got up and went forward to the balcony, which had no railings. She took a step, then another until she was standing on the precipice. She wouldn't look down for better people than here had fainted on seeing straight 300 meters down. With a bit of confidence and luck she saw it, after leaning forward at a precarious angle. Soon after the first came to 250 other - the might of Seachurner!

They were going to war, she rejoiced on the thought, enlightened that her persuading had sown a seed in their famously not supple brains. She hid her excitement and returned to her majestic seat. After months of careful planning and gambling chances had this finally come true, with or without the might of Wingbearer.The Eye and Seachurner both had been independent kingdoms until the 'Conquest'. Now soon they would be like they had been a century ago. This was her coronation and Rulerstead's doom.

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Micura

Micura moaned as the nurse bandaged her calf. The Nameless wore a jocular smile and poker faced eyes. An uneasy silence hung in the air as the wizard stared at him with an amused look on his face. Micura guessed the sorcerer wondered how he had come harmed against a near dead foe. He riposted the silent thought, "Tell me the current affairs."

The alchemist recited as if it were a memorized verse ,"Morningstar's host is marching. You have a pivotal, confidential letter from The Eye." Upon hearing confidential the nurse scuttled out. "What does the letter say", Micura enquired. "I offer you The Eye's friendship and your vengeance. Merisa." The Alchemist continued, "There is no speculation about Seachurner's and The Eye's betrayal, Lord of Wingbearer." The title still felt queer, as queer as the politics of Cobardon. "Yes there isn't", Micura muttered, "News does travel fast."

He spent the greater part of an hour thinking as the necromancer barbarous eyes evaluated his worthiness. Finally, Micura concluded, "Send a scroll warning Rulerstead about the odds being against them in the war to come and let them know that our support is with them." The wizard's eyes smiled and he gave an approving nod as he sat down to inscribe Micura's words, commenting, "At least I wasn't awoken pointlessly. Wingbearer will have need of all my might. But remember that in this arena you aren't the only smart one!"

The sorcerer was satisfied because he knew there was more than what meets the eye.