Dracona Burning
Copyright © 2004, James L. Snyder. All Rights Reserved.

"I am too late." They were the first words Valeryx uttered as the trees began to clear, and he could see clearly the smoke rising from Dracona ahead. They were still too deep in the forest to see the Holy City of the Empire, but it was obvious where the dark, billowing clouds of deep gray smoke were coming from. The wooden homes on the outskirts of the stone city, homes of farmers and merchants.

Valeryx held his hand up to signal a halt to the troops. "Columns, now!" he ordered.

The fifteen hundred soldiers of Valeryx' army spread out into the woods, but still close enough that they could hear him, fanning out about him. He waited until the last man stood still, and then he spoke loudly, and clear. "Dracona burns. It is now that I must tell you we face not only the elves, but likely the forces of Enforcer Thysarlis. Word has reached me that he has betrayed the Empire. We must move swiftly, and strike hard. The Emporer may yet live, and it is he and the Empire we are sworn to protect."

Reaching up, he removed his helm, wanting to look upon his men unobstructed. "You have all served me well. You are all men of honor, and your courage is beyond reproach. It has been an honor to lead you, and I lead you now for what may be the last time. I know not what lies ahead, and it is possible we go to our doom. We will fight, and Thysarlis will pay for his treachery."

Slowly putting his valorite helm back on, he turned to lead his men. "For the Empire!"

Forward they marched, their pace quickened. Thysarlis would pay.

*     *     *

The advance was gruesome. Valeryx knew his nights, should he live to see another, would be restless, perhaps on to his final day. As expected, the outer housing was aflame, casting a dark cloud above the stone walls of Dracona -- sandstone walls that were barely visible, and in some places, not at all. As they marched through the darkened streets, they met many an elf, each apparently surprised by the advance of Valeryx' men. None survived.

They had the advantage of surprise, even upon the verite clad forces of Enforcer Thysarlis. If there had been any doubt of the elven letter describing him as a traitor to his own people, it was confirmed by the carnage that Valeryx and his men witnessed as they took action themselves. The regiment of Thysarlis was openly killing the innocent waresmen of Dracona, throwing daggers into the backs of children, slicing the throats of wailing women. For every travesty Valeryx had ever witnessed an elf commit, it seemed Thysarlis was bent on committing an identical one tenfold.

The streets outside the central city were coated in the blood of the innocent. The unarmed. The children of their race. No Dragothan would ever lay hand to an enemy's child or wife. Such was forbidden by their code of conduct. There was no honor in killing the innocent. Nor, it seemed, was there honor left among Thysarlis' legions. They sought nothing but power.

As they advanced swiftly toward the central city, the Heart of Dracona, Valeryx tried to put out of his mind the grim visages of death about him. He wanted not to describe them, though he continued to see the dead with every blink of his eye. His heart raced, not out of fear or the adrenaline of war. No. He wanted to see Thysarlis pay for this.

And then he stopped.

Where were the agapite clad guards of the city? Where were the forces of Enforcer Diemenar? How far had the forces already advanced?

He hardly recognized his own body moving as he swung his mace, striking down the light-green clad forces of Thysarlis. They had not expected Valeryx. The elven distraction at Minoacalas must have been too heavily relied upon. They had underestimated him. Perhaps he was not too late.

How many corpses had he seen, arms outstretched, faces covered in fear and blood? How long had it taken him to reach the central wall? How much soot had he breathed in pressing forward? Time had lost all meaning. He needed to get to the Emporer.

As he crossed beyond the outer wall, into the Heart of Dracona, his heart sank. Thysarlis must have taken Diemenar by surprise, for there were soldiers clad in agapite strewn everywhere, helmets bashed in, heads sliced off... Thysarlis had planned well.

"To the Emporer! Now!"

Valeryx began to run as swiftly as his armor would allow him, running toward the Imperial Palace. He could hear the fast pace of his men behind him.

*     *     *

"The perimeter is guarded, my lord," Fraxis reported. A company of twenty men stood with him.

"Then let us enter." Valeryx turned and began the ascent up the stairs of the palace, the soles of his leggings striking hard as he stepped. There had been no sign of incursion this far in, save for the corpses of the city guard. No sign of Thysarlis' men was to be found though, which led him to believe that they were mostly outside the city helping the advance of the elves. He could only pray that the Emporer yet lived.

He wasted no time at the doors to the ceremonial chamber. Fraxis at his right and Greth... As he slammed the doors open, he shook his head slowly, remembering it was Brekin at his left, not Grethalga. The sight that met his eyes was one he was not expecting.

There, upon the throne, across the vast expanse of the great chamber, sat Emporer Goren Vex, looking to be well. Standing before him were both Thysarlis and Diemenar. He reached up and removed his helm, knowing something was wrong. This did not make sense.

"Your Most Holiness," Valeryx said as he stepped forward, passing his helm to Fraxis.

Thysarlis was obviously surprised, and yet, as Valeryx approached, Diemenar looked relieved. The Emporer, as usual, kept his emotions well hidden, so it was hard to read what he expected.

"Why have you left Minoacalas undefended?" Thysarlis snapped, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

Valeryx raised his left eyebrow. "Why are are your forces not in Ewindia instead of slaughtering innocent civilians outside the Draconan wall?"

"Surely not," Diemenar took a step away from Thysarlis. He turned to look at Valeryx, and said, "Thysarlis arrived in time to drive the elven forces back outside of the walls. They advanced quickly and killed many of my guards."

Slowly shaking his head, Valeryx said, "Do you not think it convenient his timing?"

"And what of your timing, Valeryx?" Thysarlis asked, his lips curled. "Surely you do not come simply to tarnish my reputation with false accusations."

"I speak no falsehood." He reached to his side and pulled out the elven scroll that named Thysarlis, and held it out. "Your Most Holiness, upon this parchment, Thysarlis is named specifically as ally and cohort to the elven forces which now roam with freedom through the streets outside of the Heart. My men will all account that they have seen Thysarlis' men attacking Dragothan women and children. We have downed those we may on the way to see to your safety, and presently we have the palace protected."

The Emporer looked at Valeryx, and he saw a look of sadness cross his eyes briefly. "You have never lied, Enforcer Valeryx." He then turned to Thysarlis. "Why have you done this?"

Thysarlis turned to face the Emporer, a look of shock covering his face. "Your Most Holiness, no!" He dropped to one knee, and Valeryx wondered how hard he would try to convince the Emporer of his innocence. Thysarlis dove forward, extending his arm, and it was too late for Valeryx to act. There was a brief flash of silver in the air, and then Thysarlis drove his hand toward the Emporer's chest. "Die, you old fool. DIE!"

Valeryx drew his mace and charged, but Thysarlis had already flipped himself across the throne, landing next to Diemenar. Diemenar was completely motionless, obviously unable to grasp that an Enforcer had just attacked the Emporer. His pause was to his own death, for Thysarlis wasted no time running his blade across the throat of the stunned City Guard Commander. As Diemenar slumped to the ground, Valeryx rushed Thysarlis.

"Come now, Enforcer," Thysarlis said, a wild smile upon his face. "We could share this power."

"Never!" Valeryx said, swinging his mace toward Thysarlis. "You are a coward and a traitor. You will die."

"Not, I think, today," Thysarlis said with a laugh. Reaching up, he grasped a medallion about his neck, and swiftly disappeared.

Valeryx' mace swung through empty space, and he let out a cry of anguish. "Nooooo!" He recognized the metalwork of the medallion. "Elven magic!"

There was a moan from behind him, and he turned to see the Emporer clutching the wound in his chest. "You have..." The Emporer sputtered, blood swiftly coating his fingers. "You have always been of highest honor." Another cough, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "You are to lead the people."

The Emporer reached into his robes, and pulled out a sceptor. "With this..." He sputtered, and Valeryx knew no healer would hold magic enough to save the Emporer. "With this, the Hand of the Dragons is yours."

He reached out toward Valeryx, and Valeryx extended his hand to take the staff. He looked back up to the Emporer, wanting to protest, to try to save him, but there was no life left in the Emporer's eyes. Kneeling on one knee, Valeryx bent his head, staring at the foot of the throne. "By your honor."

Standing, he turned to face Fraxis, Brekin, and the men at the entrance of the chamber. All had dropped to one knee. "Your Most Holiness."

"Yes." A voice echoed throughout the chamber. "Your Most Holiness." Valeryx looked about the room, but saw no one else with them. Looking back to his men, he was about to ask if they had heard the voice, but noticed they were no longer there.

"What is going on?"

"You seek revenge for your Emporer's death." There was a shimmering of deep violet in the center of the chamber, almost as if darkness itself was materializing in front of him. A black dragon stood suddenly where nothing had been before, making the massive chamber seem quite small. "I can offer you this."

*     *     *

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