City of Dragons

City of Dragons

Published by Brett Fitzpatrick

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 Brett Fitzpatrick

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

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Dedication

For Babsi

City of Dragons

by Brett Fitzpatrick

Chapter 1

Return to Finsterdel

The city of Finsterdel had grown since the last time Archer saw it but, then again, so had he. He was now one of the most respected warriors of the land, and Finsterdel had grown from a bandit camp among ancient ruins to become an independent city state. Finsterdel still had the same city walls, of course, but inside those walls there was an ongoing transformation. The ruined city, until recently forgotten and reclaimed by the deep forest, was more and more coming back to life. Archer had stayed in Finsterdel for some months on his last visit, so he knew the city quite well. He was acting as a guide to his two companions, neither of them having ever visited Finsterdel before.

Look at that, Archer said, pointing through the open city gates at a tumble-down stone structure, some kind of cross between a temple and a military barracks where people were doing work, strengthening walls, adding doors, and roofing one of the city’s ancient stone buildings.

None of these buildings so close to the city walls had been reclaimed last time I was here. All the activity was in the center back then, around the central square.

Archer was growing into a strong young man, no longer a youth, and his recent years of sword carrying and patrolling the forest had broadened his back. He had dark nappy hair, and brown skin.

It is so overgrown, one of Archer's two companions, a male elf named Harlequin, or Hark to his friends, said.

But I like that, the other said, a young elven woman called Willowtide who looked like she could easily be the male elf's sister.

Both of the elves were slim, with long, blond hair and all three of the group were dressed in traveling clothes, with leather armor underneath and a sword buckled at their side.

There were two guards in plain view at the city gates and, though they were hidden from view behind crenelations and creeping foliage, Archer knew there would also be warriors armed with crossbows above them on the walls.

Ho, there, one of the guards, a human male in a green cloak, called out.

The guard’s voice was unfriendly and his fellow guard, a woman in the same green cloak, put her arm on his sleeve. It looked to Archer like a gesture of warning.

This is Archer, she said to her colleague, He's all right. I can vouch for him. The other two, though, I don't know.

All right, the male guard nodded, his tone warming a little, Archer, who are your companions this fine day?

We are all agents of the tower, Archer said, and gave the guard a couple of fake, but plausible sounding, elven names, They joined the forces of the tower after being made outcasts.

The still-suspicious guard could see that both elves had a black diamond-shaped scar burnt into their foreheads between their eyebrows, the ancient symbol used by elves to mark outcasts. Both guards obviously knew of Onjaro, as well, and the reign of terror he had unleashed in the elven forest. He was the most senior guild master in the entire elven forest of Kabadreen, the closest thing the elves had to a king. He claimed dominion even over their city of Finsterdel, though he couldn't enforce it. Any enemy of Onjaro was likely to find a sympathetic ear in the bandit city of Finsterdel.

Well, welcome, the female guard said, not waiting for her companion to make his mind up. If she suspected the fake names, she didn't give any indication of it. Any friend of Archers, and any enemy of Onjaro's is welcome in this city.

What’s your business here, the male guard asked.

Again Archer decided to be economical with the truth. The fewer people who knew about his intentions the likelier he was to be successful, in his opinion. He knew that Finsterdel was a close-knit community of outlaws, all banded together by their hatred of the various rulers of the surrounding kingdoms but, unfortunately, he also knew that even a close band of comrades like this one could be infiltrated by spies. He had no reason to think that had happened but, on the other hand, his mission, more than a mission, his quest, was so vital he couldn't take any chances.

I'm just looking up an old friend, he said with a smile.

Anna, the female guard guessed, also smiling.

The very same, Archer confirmed.

Then pass, friend, the male guard said, somewhat grudgingly, Archer thought.

They entered the city and saw from closer up the ancient ruins being slowly reclaimed by the steadily growing band of outlaws. It was an impressive sight and all three of them gazed around, heads turning this way and that, like the newcomers they were. The architecture of Finsterdel basically comprised of the walls of ancient ruins, constructed of the finest quality stonework but long neglected. The old walls were overgrown by trees, thickets of brambles, tangles of vines and they were covered with moss and lichen, but the granite walls were carefully cut and exquisitely fitted together, few of them had collapsed completely. It was a scene to take the breath away.

Willowtide was having trouble concentrating on what she saw, however, instead she kept thinking about the conspiratorial way the female guard had said the word, Anna.

***

Soon they had reached the building where, they were told, Anna was billeted. It was comparatively modern by the standards of Finsterdel, though extremely ancient by the standards of most other cities. It was built on a stone platform that looked too big for it, which probably dated back to an even more ancient structure. The platform looked more suited to a handful of earlier, pyramidal buildings they could see nearby. The front wall of Anna’s building was decorated with friezes and figures from legends so ancient that the three newcomers didn’t recognize the stories being told, and it was surrounded by a low defensive wall that came to Willowtide's chest height. It was unusual to see defensive walls built within cities, around single buildings, but not unheard of. Perhaps the structure had once been a depository if treasure and required guarding. Now, however, the defensive wall had no gate, just a gap between high gateposts.

There were also many niches in the wall, though they were empty and their purpose was hard to guess.

The building had two floors and the door looked new, recently constructed and hung, not yet even painted. Trees were growing beside the structure, so near to the walls of the building that they had dug into the stonework as they grew, displacing it here and there. The foundations of the entire area must have been torn up by roots, Willowtide guessed, and it was a testament to the stability of the buildings and the thickness of their walls that any were still standing.

A man opened the door for them, showed them in, and greeted Archer warmly. While they were exchanging pleasantries, Willowtide looked around her and saw that the building’s ground floor had been divided into living quarters for four people.

The impression was of human architecture, but ancient, from a time when those ancient humans had different customs and worshiped different gods, in ceremonies unguessable to the minds of later ages. But these ancient edifices had now started to be inhabited again and the new owners had left their mark too. The stone roof of the building had fallen in and the bandits of Finsterdel had fashioned an impressive wooden roof as a replacement. They had also put up wooden partitions, to give people living on the same floor some privacy but, despite these improvements, the thick walls and small exterior windows gave everything the feeling of living in a cave.

Willowtide’s attention was attracted away from considering the architecture and back to the people she was with by something the man Archer was talking to said, and also by the way he said it.

So I suppose you and your elven friends are here to see Anna.

There was something conspiratorial about the man's words, like he and Archer were privy to some secret. Or was it her imagination? Willowtide had to admit that she was starting to become very sensitive to anything to do with Archer. She felt Hark’s questioning gaze on her and she realized she was staring at Archer pensively as she considered how she felt about him. She quickly turned her gaze away, from Hark and from Archer, and went back to marvelling at the strange architecture of the ancient city.

A youngster was sent running to fetch Anna from wherever she was and they didn't have to wait long before she arrived.

Willowtide had met Anna before, had rescued her in fact, from captivity underground, among the troglodytes. Willowtide was one of the most powerful magicians of the age, so people said. The strange sorceress, Serveen, who was her mentor had told her as much, though she had added a lot of caveats about hers being a wild talent, untutored, lacking finesse, training and experience, but even so, there was no reason for Willowtide to feel inferior to anyone, let alone somebody who had needed her help, and yet, she did.

The moment Anna cane prowling through the door, Willowtide felt like a child in the presence of a woman. Anna had raven-dark hair, almond skin, epicanthic folds to her eyes, and a grim confidence to her expression. She was dressed in the usual outlaw green and protected by brigandine armor, which was leather with metal plates sewn into it, and had a sword at her belt. She had a presence that commanded the room. Inevitably it was she who spoke first.

Archer, she bellowed, and your elven friend, who you never shut up about.

Willowtide's mood improved enormously when she heard that. It was nice to year that Archer talked about her to other people. it renewed her faith that she was doing the right thing accompanying him on his quest.

But who is this? Anna asked, turning her attention to Hark.

We've met, Hark said.

Anna's face was confused as she searched for some recollection of the young make elf.

We need to talk somewhere quiet,Archer said, interrupting the greetings before any more information was shouted about the surrounding neighborhood.

Anna nodded and unlocked a makeshift wooden door in one of the new, sturdy looking, wooden partitions.

This one's mine, she said.

She led them into her quarters, gesturing for them to follow her in as she unbuckled her sword and hung it by the door. They found themselves in quite a large living room with two or three other doors leading to other personal chambers, a bedroom and a pantry Willowtide guessed.

There was a sturdy wooden table in the center of the room that looked like it had been fashioned by the same hands as all the other new woodwork within the ancient stone building.

You obviously have some elven carpenters among you, Willowtide said.

That we do, though not nearly enough for all the work there is for them, Anna nodded.

The room was dark with tiny windows punched through thick walls letting in only the faintest glimmer of light. There were chairs enough for them around the central table and they all sat down. Towering incongruously over them as they sat was an ancient statue with its feet on the stone floor of the dark space and its hands reaching up to support the ceiling.

I wanted to get rid of this fellow, Anna nodded at him, but they told me he was structural, so I had to keep him.

I can see why you would want to throw him out, Archer said, He's an ugly brute.

The figure was human, but had the face of some sharp nosed creature, a bat or a rat perhaps. It was streaked with black mold, much of it running from the creature's mouth. Anna lit a lamp that had cheap orange glass in the little doors shielding the candle within. It cast an unhealthy light that made the statue and other carvings and reliefs around the walls seem to come alive with shifting shadows.

You get used to him, Anna said, with the hint of a shrug, Now friend...

She turned to face Hark, shaking out the flame she had used to light the lantern as she turned.

You said we know each other but, for the life of me, I can't remember ever having met you before.

I was there, Hark said, In the halls of the Troglodyte King, under the earth, with you.

But there were only four of us, Anna said, Me, Archer, Willowtide and...

Her eyes went wide, she walked up to the long-haired elf, touched him right in the middle of his chest, her fingers resting on his leather armor, as if to check he was real. And it was real, there was something about the way the elf stood there, some essence was recognizable from what he had been before.

It's you, she said, Hark.

The elf simply nodded, while Anna stood there in some kind of trance, the moment of recognition so strong. Then Archer clapped his hands together, bursting the moment like a bubble.

Right, he said, Down to business.

***

The two blonde elves and their human companion, Archer, had left the city again within a couple of hours. Archer led them back along the surprisingly narrow dirt track that led to and from Finsterdel, but soon plunged into the forest itself, leaving the track behind. He turned sharp left into the trees at a seemingly random spot and the two elves followed. They clambered through underbrush, climbed down banks, jumped streams and climbed back up the other side again. They were trying their best not to leave much of a trail, which slowed them down, but Archer had brought them to their objective well before nightfall.

It was a wide clearing at a bend in a small river where the slow waters spread out to form a pool. Right across the center of the clearing was a giant fallen tree leaning against a rocky outcrop of land. The tree had obviously been there a long time because it was overgrown with creeping plants and brambles. The sun was low now, so only a small patch of the clearing had any direct sunlight, and the overgrown space beneath the fallen tree was already dark as night.

Somebody's there, Hark said.

As he said it, Anna walked out from below the tree.

What took you so long? she asked.

Willowtide felt a very brief wave of disappointment at seeing the woman. She enjoyed spending time with just her, Hark and Archer together. Archer's instructions about how to get to the clearing and meet up, so nobody would know they had left together, had been vague. Willowtide had half expected that Anna would get lost and not be there to meet them. Obviously, Archer’s instructions had been good enough though, because here she was.

Willowtide dismissed such petty thoughts. Archer seemed convinced that the woman's presence was necessary to the completion of the quest, and he should know, she supposed: it was his quest after all. He had spent months in the huge library within the tower, learning all there was to be learned about troglodytes. By the standards of these later times, he was the closest thing the land had to an expert.

If your goal, Anna said, is the temple complex called the Underworld's Mouth, this isn't the quickest way to get there.

No, Archer agreed, But we have always traveled between Finsterdel and these ruins, the few times we have visited them, using the most direct route, and there has always been some nasty welcome or other waiting for us.

True enough, Anna nodded, ruefully.

This time, Archer carried on, I want to come at the place from the northeast, from a different direction entirely, and I don't want to go blundering in. I want to take it slow.

All right, Anna nodded, So we could bed down here in these beautiful surroundings, or we could squeeze out another league or so of travel.

We'll make camp here, Archer said, Because there is still much to do before nightfall proper.

There is? Hark loved his sleep, and was already unstrapping his bedding from his backpack.

Your training, Archer said, his voice flat, matter of fact.

Hark groaned.

Training? Anna asked.

Yes, Archer said emphatically, Training.

You do know who this is, Anna, Willowtide said, nodding at Hark, Don't you?

Yes, Anna said, You told me earlier, back at Finsterdel.

Archer detected a hint of tension between Willowtide and Anna, which he was not happy about at all. They would need to be a team if they were going to have any chance of even emerging from the underworld intact.

This, Willowtide said, Is my companion, Harlequin, Hark to his friends, and, if you know that, you also know that this is not his true form. You have seen his true form and you must have realized from what you saw that Hark has never had need to learn to use a quarterstaff, sword, shield, or any other war gear.

I guess, Anna said.

We elves, and you humans, Willowtide pressed on, train with weapons from an early age, so we can be of use in defending our villages and fighting for our kings and queens, but not Hark. And so, he needs to learn and he needs to learn quickly.

You, Anna, Archer said, interrupting before Willowtide could get her breath and continue the lecture, are the best I have ever met.

Hardly, Anna said, If I'm the best you've ever met, then you are in for a rude awakening one day.

Okay, Archer snorted a laugh, though Willowtide couldn't see what was funny about it, The best in this clearing.

Anna glanced at Willowtide, who she knew to be a sorceress, much happier with her nose in a book, or conjuring some magical effect from thin air than practicing her sword drills. Then she glanced at Archer, a skilled and brave fighter, who had seen a battle or two and actually gained some experience. He was a worthy fighter, but he was no weapons master. Then she looked at Hark, who was looking back, his eyes wide, a little fearful.

The best in this clearing, Anna nodded, That would be about right.

We will be in tunnels and close quarters, Archer said, He'll need training in longsword, arming sword and dagger. I've started him off, but we have only covered the basics.

You've been training him? Anna yelped in mock alarm, while Archer nodded with a grin that was growing wider and wider, Well, he'll have some bad habits to train out of him now, before I can even train in the good ones. We'd better start right away.

She took a few steps towards Hark.

Grab your arming sword and come with me, she barked, No the arming sword, it's the short one, that long one is, for obvious reasons, called a long sword.

Archer smiled contentedly as he watched Anna instructing Hark, tapping his shoulder, his leg, getting his stance just right. Then she bodychecked him and sent him sprawling into a bush. She yelled at him as he was floundering and climbing back out.

Your stance was pretty good, she bellowed, but I was able to knock you over. Why is that?

***

Much later, Anna was asleep, supremely comfortable sleeping under the stars, and Archer was a little way off, taking first watch and patrolling the perimeter of the clearing. Willowtide knew he was there, even though she couldn't see or hear him in the dark. She and Hark were alone.

Tell me more about the City of Dragons, Hark said, as he was bedding down, using his money purse for a pillow.

Of course, Willowtide nodded, then paused while she searched her store of stories, learned by wrote a long time ago when she was an apprentice bard.

Some say the City of Dragons is a hidden city, in the desert. They say it grew when the dragons were the only creatures in the world, which makes it the most ancient of cities.

Hark smiled at the introduction, though he'd heard different versions of it before. Some stories said that the City of Dragons was in the mountains, some even that it was under the sea. Willowtide explained to Hark that old stories often held a lot of contradictions, that was true, but sometimes these contradictions could all turn out to be true. Now Hark just excepted it when two stories said different things about the same event.

The dragons were isolated in their desert city, Willowtide went on, But they were happy. They had all the food they would ever need. They spent their time hunting the giant eagles of the sky and roasting them with their fiery breath.

Hark lipped his lips at that, and Willowtide giggled.

Hungry? she asked.

Just finish the story, Hark ordered, his voice mock stern.

They didn't need to maintain their city because either, because it had been built so well, from granite and ivory and gold, and all manner of materials that never rot or spoil, unlike human houses of crumbly brick or elven houses of rotten wood.

Hark tutted at that. He didn't like criticism of the elves, even in the old stories.

And, because they were alone in the desert, there were no neighbors to war with. They didn't grow crops, so they didn't have to worry about the harvest being bad or failing and bringing famine. Even their king lived far away under the mountains and so they didn't have to worry about paying any taxes.

No worries, Hark mumbled, It sounds nice.

He had had a hard time of it during his first training session with Anna, and he was already half asleep, Willowtide could hear it in his voice.

But, Willowtide said sharply, to wake him up just enough to make it to the end of the story, "among all their ease and luxury, riches and fine living, there was one problem. The time started to lie heavily on them, and without any difficulties to overcome, there was no reason to exert themselves. There was no reason to get up early in the morning, or to cut stone, or to work metal, or to till the land. There was nothing to do, no reason to break their slumber. The dragons started to sleep more and more, first for two nights at a time, then for a week, then a month, then years at a time. Eventually the dragons would only wake up once in a hundred years and it would not be long before they were all soon soundly asleep again, for yet another hundred years. And, while they slept, the sand of the desert crept closer and closer, until it started to make its way, through many little cracks and holes, into the city.

There was nobody to sweep it away, nobody to keep it at bay, because all the dragons were slumbering in their chambers. Soon the sand had engulfed the entire city, and built up above it, layer upon layer. The dragons still slumber down there... even today... It is said..."

Hark was already asleep, and Willowtide realized she was actually quite tired herself. Her head nodded, her eyes fluttered and she slumped slowly down on to the forest floor. Willowtide finally fell asleep with her head in the nook between Hark's chest and his arm, a much warmer and more comfortable spot than her own meager bedding.

***

Going by the longer route that Archer had chosen, it was days before they were approaching the temple complex that connected their world with the underworld, just one of the many, many places where there were gateways that went down to that dark and terrible place.

It had taken a lot of research, and a little bit of help, before Archer had first discovered this secret place. Even though everyone knew there were many places where the creatures of the underworld could gain entry to the healthy, above-ground world, under the stars, that didn't mean that these portals were easy to find.

Willowtide, a powerful sorceress with access to thousands of years of accumulated wisdom in the libraries of the tower, only knew of a handful. And of that handful of portals to the unhealthy and secret world beneath their feet, only this place, the temples, so ancient they no longer even had a name, had ever, to their knowledge, been used by troglodytes.

They couldn't actually see the temple complex yet, but Archer assured them it was close. He had the route memorized and very rarely had to stop to consult his map.

When we reach the top of this hill, he said, We'll be able to see it, or at least the tallest of the towers, the ones that poke out above the trees.

Then why climb this hill? Anna asked, if you have a map?

It is a feeling I have, Archer said, It’s like I need to see the layout of the place, to choose the best approach.

Archer then fell silent as he clambered up a difficult section of the slope, hanging onto the trunk of a small tree for support. The earth of the hill was dry and loose, making the footing treacherous.

The thing is, he said, when he felt more confident that he wasn't going to go sliding back down the slope they were climbing, and could concentrate on his words again, that the troglodytes always seem to know we are here, here at their door. We obviously disturb some guard or some ward when we cross their threshold, and so we alert our enemies. And we just can't afford to do that, because there are four of us, and who knows how many there are of them.

But how does climbing this hill help? Willowtide asked, We have a map of the complex.

We need to build a mental picture of this place, Archer said, We need to see the things that aren’t shown on any map, so we can find some way to creep in unobserved. It’ll take time, so we'll bed down at the top of the hill and see what we can see from there.

Sounds like a plan, Anna said.

But things didn't turn out exactly as Archer had intended. Built on the top of the hill was a temple that was not marked on their map.

Greenbeard, Archer cursed, This is exactly what I’m talking about. That creepy looking mausoleum isn't on the map, or any other map of this area I’ve seen.

They all did their best to find hiding places among the thin covering of trees at the top of the hill, uncomfortable at the thought of being seen from the temple, but hiding places with a good view of the structure and its doors were hard to come by.

How old is that map? Anna asked, Because that temple looks like it's been right there on top of this hill for a very long time.

This was actually an understatement. The temple looked truly ancient, and it was surprisingly large. It didn't have a sprawling ground plan because it was limited in size by being built on the small, exposed area at the top of the hill, but it was tall. It was taller than it was wide, making it vaguely tubular, and it had a dome for a roof, reaching even further toward the sky. The stone it was built from was so dark it was almost black, it was streaked with veins of bilious yellow and had a covering of creeping vines and brambles.

If anyone still worships here, they don't take very good care of the place, Willowtide said, her voice low.

I thought the whole point of this place, Anna hissed, was that nobody worshiped here any more. They haven't for thousands of years, as far as I know. Whoever they were. The stories I’ve heard in Finsterdel are vague about that, but they certainly weren't human.

What I want to know, Archer said, Is why we didn't see this thing before. We should surely have caught some glimpse of it, poking out of the trees, while we climbed up here. It's tall enough to be seen for miles around.

That's how it is sometimes, Willowtide said, With buildings dedicated to powerful entities, gods, demons, titans, elementals and the like. Sometimes you don't see them unless they want you to see them.

That's great, Archer muttered, frustration clearly audible in his voice, There goes my plan for taking time, doing recon, before cleverly inserting ourselves in among the buildings of the temple complex. It looks like one of the buildings has come to us.

The troglodytes didn't build these temples, you know, Willowtide said, changing the subject a little, Whoever the architects were, they weren't troglodytes.

True, Archer nodded, Those bloated monsters build bigger rooms, taller doorways, wider corridors than you find in the temples of the complex.

Which means, Willowtide said, That they took these ruins by force, or found them deserted. They made their gateway to the underworld down there, in the main complex, at the foot of the hill. Not up here, at the top.

Archer, Anna, and Hark all glance at each other, not catching her drift.

So, Willowtide said, spelling it out for them, Whatever power the troglodytes have in this ancient place, however far their influence reaches, it is more likely that this temple has escaped it than any of the other temples down there. If there is a single temple of the complex we could enter without the troglodytes somehow being warned, this may be it.

But how does that help us, Anna asked, If the entrance to the underworld is down below, not within this temple, up here on this hill.

Perhaps not the entrance, Hark said, but perhaps something? The heroes in the stories and legends Willowtide tells me are always finding things that can help them along the way.

I'm with Hark, Archer said, Maybe this pile of stone can help us after all.

This is your quest, Anna said, If you say we go in, we go in.

All right, Archer said, his mood lifting a little, We have some doors here. Let's scout round the base of the building and see if there are any more.

There was only one set of doors, in the end, and they had obviously been broken open at some point in the building's history. The wood of the doors was marred by gouges and splinters, radiating away from a central impact point.

"That’s like the damage caused by a battering ram,’ Anna noted.

It must have been a mighty big battering ram, Hark mused, because those doors are huge.

The doors weren’t just oversize, they were bound in iron and fashioned from everoak, the tallest and mightiest trees of the forest. It was everoak that was used by the elves to support their treetop towns and cities, built in the canopy of the forest.

Anna looked down the steep slope of the hill and said, I doubt anyone could have got a battering ram up here.

Willowtide turned to look at the slope Anna was talking about and her thoughts were led in the same direction. She thought the fist or horns of some monster was a more likely explanation for the state of the doors.

No, Willowtide agreed, Definitely not a bettering ram.

Anna shivered and tried to banish the thought with the shake of a head. Besides, it had obviously been a long time ago anyway, because the doors had been repaired and rehung long enough ago that the new wood had faded almost to the same dark color as the surrounding material.

The ancient doors