Fallout

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 5 DAY 10

Though Dramien had refrained from walking the streets, he pestered Bamoc for food, herbs, and dressings for his captured brothers-in-arm he dared not visit. Against the officers hurling cutleries and thumping tables, the general agreed, much to Ruxian’s relief.

Drifting down the streets, Ruxian could feel Rokshama returning to normality, having already rediscovered its rowdy ambience. Destora, who had acquired the affectionate moniker, Tigerman, for his Herculean feats, could scarcely walk a step without refusing food and flowers. As it turned out, he was more partial to women’s kisses and liquor.

Naya’s garash lessons with Zangar had become more than a private class. Tales of a Blackmoon Sister teaching their deadly arts filled the training hall with young women. This martial chamber, which previously permeated rancid sweat, now had a very different scent. While some expressed interest in travelling to Mogravale, Naya sensed most of them were either here to flirt with Zangar or to see her horns.

When not honing the art of the chained fangs, Zangar sortied with his men. After the decisive rout, Targonian squads continued to harass the nearby settlements, though with waning numbers and lethality. The booming guns that pummelled their walls had vanished into thin air. Save for the few wreckages Bamoc recovered, Aergot’s men had retrieved every piece of the siege weapon.

That night, Bamoc finally summoned the Mogravale emissary to the meeting hall. The trio met the fat general as they had when they first arrived, snoring fitfully on the floor. Again, Zangar woke his father with a gentle shake of the shoulder.

“Ah, forgive me,” Bamoc chuckled, straightening. “This old fool no longer has the vigour to match the rigour of governance.”

“The good general is too humble,” said Naya, bowing. “As much as I’d like to celebrate your glorious victory, I fear duties take precedence.” She paused and stared him straight in the eye. “May I hear your response?”

Much to their surprise, Bamoc eyed his son. “Boy, what say you?”

Zangar blinked. “Me?”

“I didn’t bring you here to pour me tea,” the general snapped. “Well?”

“I expect…Targonia to escalate,” reasoned Zangar, growing more sure of himself with each word. “It is past time we joined Mogravale.”

“And we’ll do just that,” decreed Bamoc. “Send out a letter this instant.”

Zangar sprinted for the door with a great grin. “Right away.”

Ruxian felt the phantom weights removed from his body. Dramien too, breathed a sigh of relief. Naya, however, leaned forward, the slinking chain of her garash scraping the floor.

“I haven’t forgotten, Mr. Fonkael,” said Naya, dropping the title. “What can you tell me about mum?”

Bamoc studied Naya and finally realised why he had avoided her. The way she did her hair, the scarlet glow on her two horns, and the fire in her eyes all reminded him that Roza was gone. It surprised him that the wound he thought long healed was still bleeding fresh.

“Such vital information,” said Bamoc, standing up with a grunt, “comes with a price.” Turning, he took the battered garash from its display. “I hear you’ve been giving my boy lessons. Perhaps you could teach this old hound a new trick or two.”

Ruxian hurried to project a stop sign. You sure about this, Naya? Couldn’t you just ask Almerynd?

“I’m sure,” Naya whispered. “I want to hear from him.”

“Give quarter,” said Dramien, leaning on her shoulder. “Make him move. Test those old legs.”

Naya exchanged a firm nod with Dramien and drew her blades. She advanced with half steps, wary of Bamoc who had yet to assume a stance. His intense, unblinking stare, tickled her horns. This wasn’t training with her sisters or Uncle Thogar. This was a duel.

Rooted to the spot, Bamoc hurled a hissing blade at Naya, straight as a spear thrust. Grimacing, Naya parried just as another stab came for her legs. Almost mistaking it for a miss, Naya jumped at the last moment and charged. Bamoc was sending a clear message. She could not match him at range.

A sweeping slash checked her flanking run while a second drove Naya back. Spinning in her retreat, Naya built enough momentum to return a humming arc. Bamoc, ducking like a man who’d seen the form a thousand times, pounced with a ferocious agility that defied his girth.

Crossing her blades, Naya crashed into Bamoc before twisting her hips, turning him sideways. The general, flowing with her force, spiralled into a leg sweep, flooring the girl. He wasted no time planting a knee to her gut and pointed a sword at her throat.

“Yield –”

Naya clapped her hands, teleporting behind Bamoc. Without turning, the seasoned warrior slammed a pommel into her solar plex just as she snared his throat with her chain. Wheezing, Naya doggedly clung to her garash but her arms had no strength for the finish.

“Roza tried the same thing.” said Bamoc, patting his cranium. “She almost knocked me out that time.”

“I’m…not done,” Naya whimpered, lifting her hands.

Bamoc floored Naya with a nudge. “You’re done.”

DATE: IMMORTAL REIGN 1023 MONTH 5 DAY 11

Zangar alone saw the guests to the Green Divide. Hopping off his horse, he offered a hand to help a dour Naya dismount. The stallion whinnied and shuffled clear of the girl. Dramien snickered and turned away when Naya shot him a dirty look. Ruxian, too, glowered a playful yellow. Shouldn’t you make your peace?

“Fine,” growled Naya. “Come here.”

The beast stiffened as Naya brushed his coat. At Dramien’s urging, she tickled his chin. Within a few strokes, the horse nuzzled her cheeks, tickling her with his hair. Giggling, Naya ruffled his head before breaking away.

“Great,” declared Naya, scowling at her companions. “Now I’m going to miss him.”

Which one? Ruxian teased. Dramien, suppressing a guffaw when a blushing Naya turned his way.

Zangar cleared his throat. “Lord Ruxian, we are forever in your debt,” said Zangar, bowing. “You’re welcome here any time.” He offered Dramien a handshake. “Thank you. I think I know what I must do now.” He then addressed Naya. “I’ll…keep practising.”

“You better,” replied Naya, jabbing his shoulder. “And bulk up. You’re all skin and bone.”

Laughing sheepishly, Zangar produced a sealed envelope. “Father meant this for you.”

Pouncing on the item, Naya’s eyes brightened. She was about to tear open the letter when Zangar caught her hand.

“For your eyes only,” whispered Zangar. “Tell no one.”

Naya was restless throughout the day. Yet, she surprised Ruxian, holding off the letter until the sun surrendered its reign to the moon. With Dramien fast asleep, Naya shoved more kindling into the crackling campfire and began poring over the page of block texts arrayed like its author’s soldiers. Ruxian thought to shrink his vision until he glimpsed the writing. Being able to converse did not make him literate.

Naya, words cannot express how much joy and pain you brought me when you stepped into Rokshama. You must forgive my secrecy. Walls have ears and this was the only way I could keep you from harm.

You are every bit as beautiful as your mother. The Mogravale boys must be all over you. You’re quick with the fists. In this way, too, you are Roza’s daughter. Glass roses, thorny, enchanting, and fragile.

Shortly after the disastrous defeat in Immortrium, there wasn’t a Dracon who didn’t blame Almerynd Blackmoon, so much so that many migrated from Mount Dragonspine to Rokshama. To quell the waves disturbing Mogra’s rest, she named Roza, then thirteen, as her successor.

Immediately after her appointment, Roza visited Rokshama. I first saw her in the meeting hall, alone, staring down our pack of hostile old farts. The closest I got to her was when I poured her tea. Her hands were trembling that day. She told me that having someone of her age eased the shaking.

Since then, I waited on her outside the meeting chamber every day. Whenever her conferences ended early enough, I would show her the town. She liked apples over pears, lamb over beef, and funnily enough, every other colour over black. Foolish boy I was, I thought we were both having a good time. In hindsight, I was the only one who didn’t realise she was conducting extra diplomacy.

My father, general then, proposed our betrothal to Almerynd. The matriarch agreed. I never asked how Roza felt. The only clue I got was when she said the people were happy for us. And just like that, I was to travel to Blackmoon Peak when I came of age. Imagine my shock when months before I would meet her again, news arrived from Mount Dragonspine.

Roza begged Almerynd to break her betrothal to this fool. She would wed a Targonian and was prepared to spend her remaining life in exile. I didn’t leave my bedchamber for over a month, wallowing in the humiliation.

Roza visited Rokshama again. Father ordered –

Naya blinked. There was a blot of ink where text should have been. Heaving an audible sigh, she tossed another handful of dry leaves into the fire that crackled with joy. Are you alright? She started and quickly hid her letter. Don’t worry, I’m illiterate here.

“Right,” said Naya. “I’m fine. Why?”

You’re crying.

Naya wiped her face with her cuffs. “You’re mistaken,” she said, sniffing. “But thanks.”

Ruxian generated a phantasmal arm to emulate a shoulder pat before drifting away, leaving Naya to her reading. He caught an appreciative smile in his periphery as the fire licked his unfeeling flesh.

Father ordered the citizenry to humiliate Roza. They hurled insults, food, and even rocks. Finally, that stupid boy stopped wasting away in self-pity and went outside to defend her. That was the last noble thing I’ve ever done in my life. Now that I’ve had a few decades to practice skullduggery and connivance, I know what Rokshama and Mogravale wanted from me. I was to kill her, to make things right, to bloody my blades. Instead, I played the craven fool.

Over the next few years, I would frequent Mogravale, cutting my teeth against Almerynd Blackmoon. For years, I was the only one who visited your family. The villagers wanted you guys out – until you were born. Your little hands clinging to Roza melted hearts. Even Almerynd forgave Roza, after she agreed to charge the Blackmoon Sorority with your education. I heard whispers in her court, however, that opposed Roza’s succession.

You barely took your first step when Roza died. It was just another skirmish to defend a forest settlement. Her companions claimed it was a stray arrow but the story reeks like an unwashed mutt. Roza had premonition. No one seeking her harm could touch her. Seeing her body confirmed my worst fears. Someone strangled her.

I’m certain the Blackmoon Sorority murdered Roza and I suspect Almerynd Blackmoon knows who it is. Your matriarch is not as in control as she’ll have you believe. If Almerynd Blackmoon names you her successor, which is highly likely now, your enemies will strike again. Ally yourself with Lord Ruxian. Protect yourself at all times. Now, burn this letter.

With trembling hands, Naya fed the letter to the flame, her fingers lingering until every last word had turned black. No tears would come. She gazed into the fire like a statue, took a deep breath, and snuffed it out.