By: Jerome Brooke
“Long live the Lady Royal,” we shouted. “Long life and victory!”
The warriors of the Dragon Wing had gathered in the mead hall of the stronghold. The Viceroy had called for a feast after her victory on the plain. The fire roared in the great hearth. We could hear thunder from the storm outside, as the rain poured down on the roof of the palace.
“The bards will sing of your victory, Lady!” I said, with a bow.
The Princess raised a horn of mead, well pleased. She wore a white tunic, with a red silk cape, bearing the Imperial crest.
Platters of roast were carried to the tables by the handmaids of the princess. The blind bard rose from his table, stood near the hearth, and began to play his lyre. The noise subsided, so that all might hear tales of mighty deeds and victories of the distant past.
“Gold were the wings of the great worm,
“Silver the mail of the Prince, with the mighty war axe,
“Below the host of the foe marched unaware,
“Soon to be scattered…”
The bard, with hair of white, continued his song, as the chariot warriors raised their horns of mead, and drank deep. Some of the men cast the dice, to win the favors of the fairest handmaids. The shieldmaidens were gathered on tables near the Viceroy. The brave among the men of the regiments would also seek to lie with them this night.
“We shall plan our attack on the isles of the west tomorrow, Lord Hunter,” said the Leta. “We shall avenge at last the death of the Lord my Father.”
“Yes, My Lady,” I replied.
“I do hunger for vengeance. You too have private reason to hate the foe. The Lord my Father was also your own sire. Your mother was one of his concubines.”
“Yes, My Lady. He was my sire, and I loved him well.”
The father of Leta had won great favor with the Immortal Astarte. He had dwelt for a time in her city in the myst, and fathered Leta with the goddess. She, in the fullness of time, had been sent by the Empire to seek revenge for his death.
As the evening wore on, the bard continued his songs. At last, the Princess Leta rose, and raised her mead horn. She was greeted with more cheers from her warriors. She turned and walked to the door on the side of the hall. I followed her from the hall.
We followed the passageway to her chambers. We were greeted by a lady of the royal court. She gave us goblets filled with the red wine of the coast.
“What are your plans, Lord Hunter?”
I replied that our dragon ships could sail forth in a few days. When they neared the isles of the Hive Folk, the Dragon Wings would take flight. All this was seen as wise and proper by The Princess Royal, my Immortal Queen. We needed to give the dragon ships time to near the enemy - slower were they than the Wing.
“We will make plans with the Dragon Lords on the morn,” quoted the Princess.
“Come, you can help me with my bath, brother.”
* * *
The dragon ships sailed a few days after the battle. Our regiments of wing followed in three days. Leta commanded the flagship of the Imperial Fleet. The warriors of my squadron assembled in the great royal courtyard of the city. The riders gathered in a circle about me. I took their salute with my sword, and then ordered the riders to take wing.
I climbed onto the back of my beast of dark green. Three shieldmaidens sat behind me. “Rise!” I called, slapping the side of the neck of the great beast with my goad.
We rose into the sky. I saw the city below, with the people waving red banners. The dragon wheeled in the sky, and headed out to sea. We were carried by the trade wings toward the Dark Isles of the Troll Folk.
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