Avengers of Dragonsrod

By Robert Umber

Despite victories at Drallics and Rampoor, the war still goes badly for Dragonsrod. King Zare can now focus on his long intended target -- Kublisa. Capture it and he can force Dragonsrod to sue for peace.
Alexander continues to fight his destiny he still struggles with his nagging doubts and fears and, is once more, tormented by nightmares of Loothar. He now must confront and defeat his demons or be destroyed by them.
Jessa's obsession with killing her brother takes her, Handoe and Sandstorm to her childhood home in Gronoz the Black Dragon capital city. They are arrested and Jessa learns of the horrifying demise of her resistance movement before discovering a powerful new ally who may be more capable of taking Zare out.
Tensions reach the boiling point between Goldeye and Zhangi. Goldeye realizes he may have to commit treason in order to save his beloved Dragonsrod from imminent destruction.
The budding relationship between Maxum and Shayara is put to the supreme test as they go behind enemy lines to rescue hundreds of abyssins imprisoned by the vordral.
Twists and turns abound as the war for Dragonsrod winds down. The smoke will clear and a new dawn will rise, but who will still be alive to help usher it in?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Umber
• Release date: Dec 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370367931

Robert Umber

Rob Umber writes historical fiction, middle grade fiction as well as fantasy books. He lives in Kalispell, in northwestern Monatana, with his wife Catherine.

Book preview

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

So Close – But So Far

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Coming of Age

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Ultimate Sacrice

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Reunion

CHAPTER FORTY

Surrender

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Aftermath; Legacy

CHAPTER ONE

-ASCENSION-

Vordral camp, Triumverate occupied Green Dragon Territory. six miles north of

Talis River.

Fusag's broken and violated body hadn't even started to decompose before a power struggle for his vacated position erupted. In vordral society, this was nothing new.Whenever a chieftain went on to the afterlife, suitors for the vacancy clamored out of the wood works to make a claim. Anyone and everyone, except children, could vie for the position.

Contestants were free to use any methods to help them gain an advantage. Seduction, murder, intimidation, coercion, bribery, blackmail and whatever other devious acts could be used. Hundreds of vordral threw themselves into this single elimination tournament.

Over the following weeks, many candidates went missing or were killed outright. Others bowed out for one reason or another. Eventually, the leadership battle for the Eastern Tribes had dwindled down to sixteen males and five females. A vordral with strength was a plus. A vordral with a working brain was better. A vordral with the wits to match the brawn was a must.

Most of the finalists had one of these attributes, but not much, or enough of the other. Five more bowed out, including three females. Two of those remaining stood out; they had the smarts to match their muscles, topped off with heaping helpings of aggression and brutality.

One was Gromus; broad shouldered and narrow at the hip, long and muscular arms flowing into big, meaty hands. His short upper body fur was ash colored which changed a few shades darker at his midriff where his leg fur grew long and full down to his hooves. His eyes resembled gray marbles. Two cylindrical horns sprouted out and curved up, like a bull, from his head. An island of dark gray hair bushed up prominently on the crown of his skull.

The other was Vykor. Similar in physical features to Gromus, except for chocolate colored fur; eyes a rich, rusty, brown and he stood an inch or two shorter. Vykor's most distinguishing characteristic was his massive ram's horns that jutted out and curled forward just over his shoulders. Some said he resembled their god-king, Loothar. Many considered that to be a good omen.

Separately, Gromus and Vykor watched the other candidates beat up and push each other around. The two had established reputations as being formidable warriors. Both led charges against the griffons and assaulted Dragonsrod troopers hiding behind their walls. The rank-and-file looked up to Gromus and Vykor with adoration and awe. The two had considerable clout which they weren't afraid to use. Only the bravest and most fool-hardy of the contestants would dare take them on. No one did.

As the tournament continued, Gromus and Vykor started keeping a closer eye on one another. Neither felt it was time to move — not just yet. The two, so far, had done little more than throw their hats in the ring. However, their looming influences were enough to cause four more vordral to fall away. Finally, it was Gromus and Vykor and eight others including the last two females. The time had come to act. Separately, the two started talking to the others. What was said, no one knows. However their persuasion was enough to cause six more, including the two females, to drop their delusions of

grandeur and help the vordral cause in other ways.

Vykor and Gromus came to their own realizations that the last remaining opposition would prove to be more resolute. The wimps and push overs had long since been dispensed with. This group seemed practically impervious to intimidation, which left only one course of action to be taken.

Two days before Phruu-blghk, the vordral holy week, Vykor accelerated the process. He called out two of the finalists and shot them down with a short bow — in front of the entire camp — in front of Gromus and the other two. Vykor's message had been sent and was received loud and clear.

Tilive-myx; day one of Phruu-blghk. While most vordral were preparing to give thanks to their deities for their blessings over the past year; Gromus and Vykor were preparing for battle.

Katzene-myx; the third day of the vordral holy week. The sun arched to its highest point in the clear blue sky. A wrinkly-faced, grizzly-furred and gnarl-horned, vordral shaman, dressed in a red cassock over gray robes, tramped across the camp to the settlement's central square. He clutched two rolls of parchment in his boney, leathery right hand. A much younger looking vordral warrior, holding a curling metal horn, trailed behind him.

The two stopped directly on the center of the square. The shaman instructed the soldier to sound out an assembly call. The horn-blower lifted the instrument to his lips and blew out a rambling ditty full of altering high and low pitched toots and tweets. As if on some kind of a program, vordral adults and chips alike stopped whatever they were doing and herded together around the square.

The shaman slowly rotated on his hooves, surveying the growing throng of faces gazing back at him with eager anticipation. He appeared satisfied at the numbers surrounding them. Without looking at the musician, he the shaman casually slashed his left hand about chest level, through the open air — the soldier lowered the horn and stood at the ready.

A short but intense silence followed.

˂ Brothers and sisters of all ages!˃ wheezed the shaman in his rolling and flicking language. We are down to the last two in the succession. He paused a moment to allow a wave of mutterings to pass around the audience. He held the two rolled sheets of parchment high in each hand for all to see. Hrutach and Illtish have withdrawn — these are their concessions. One has vowed support to Gromus, the other has pledged support to Vykor!

Tensions spiked when the ashen-furred Gromus surprised everyone by clomping onto the square. His head turning slowly from side to side, his gray eyes coursing the stunned faces gawking back at him as he stepped to one side of the shaman.

Vykor! Gromus called with a deep baritone voice. Quit hiding behind your females and come out! His brow pressing against his blazing eyes. FACE ME!

Vykor needed no further prodding. The large brown-furred, ram-horned and rusty eyed vordral stepped on the square.

Gromus and the vordral shaman cranked their heads over their left shoulders at Vykor, as he sauntered toward them. The shaman held out his arms as Vykor came to a stop just out of his reach. The vordral crowd sucked in a collective gasp and stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the drama unfolding in front of them.

Not now! the shaman barked, his attention bouncing between the two hulking brutes. You will meet here in two days time on Phruu-blghk Eve at high sun.

Gromus and Vykor were doing battle with their eyes.

Agreed, Gromus growled.

Prepare well, Vykor snarled, his eyes glinting and narrowing to slits, Gromus.

***

Phruu-blghk Eve, the day before Phruu-blghk-myx — the holiest day of the vordral year. The sun climbed behind and above the patchy cloud cover. Every vordral in camp jostled for a good view of the battle that was about to take place in the square.

Gromus and Vykor entered the dusty, open lot from opposite corners. Vordral onlookers stepped aside as the finalists, armed with poleaxes, zeroed in on one another. They targeted each other as the they slowly orbited around the square.

You still have time to surrender, Gromus flashed an ugly, jagged-toothed smile. You can still join me.

Same to you, Vykor countered, his grip tightening around his pole-ax handle.

You'll rule our people over my dead body, Gromus spat.

A fiery blaze glowed from Vykor's eyes. So be it.

The two closed their circle near the center of the square. Vykor thrust the spear point at Gromus's torso. Vykor took one step forward before launching the butt of his weapon in a downward arch at Gromus's head. before jumping back and resuming a defensive posture.

Gromus back pedaled from the attacks. Nice! he commented, standing tall. But is that the best you can do?

Vykor scowled, his eyes narrowed.

The same thought had apparently drifted through their heads — they rushed at each other, slamming their axes together with a series of loud clacks and clanks.Gromus swung his pole-ax blade wildly at Vykor's head. Vykor ducked as the heavy weapon whooshed inches over his scalp. Vykor, still crouching, swung his blade up at Gromus's groin. The latter deflected the attack with the butt end of his weapon. Gromus clubbed Vykor over the head with the upper half of his pole-ax's shaft. Vykor thudded to the ground, exploding out a gritty cloud of dust.

Nervous gasps and enthralled squeals and yelps spewed out from the spectators. Gromus twirled his pole-ax to the hammer head side and slammed it to the ground in another attempt at crushing Vykor's skull. Vykor rolled and thrashed about dodging repeated hammer blows. He grabbed a hand full of dirt and fired it at Gromus's face.

Vykor sprang back to his feet amid some cheers from the crowd. Rage exploded over Gromus's face, veins bulging in his neck, his teeth grinding together in an open-mouthed sneer. His eyes glinted and narrowed and he squeezed the handle of his pole-ax.

Gromus stomped toward Vykor — slashing the club-like butt end followed by an immediate swish of the ax blade at the latter's face. Vykor shoulder-rolled to the left, narrowly avoiding a savage ax chop that cleaved a long divot in the dusty ground.

Vykor slammed the hammer of his pole-ax into Gromus's right knee causing a loud, sickening, meaty pop. Gromus collapsed to the ground, shrieking in pain, grasping his shattered knee. Vykor lifted himself up — swinging the pole-ax over his head and burying the ax blade with a bone and tissue shredding thump deep into Gromus's chest.

Vykor stomped away from Gromus's lifeless body. He arched his head toward the sky, pounding his fists into his chest then rocketing them into the air before letting out a loud, triumphant howl. Tomorrow, on Phruu-blghk myx, he, Vykor, will be honored by his people and blessed by the shamans as leader of the Great Eastern Tribes.

Eastern slopes of the Haxokrin Mountains, western Abyssina.

Loothar had paid attention to the leadership battle gripping his people to the East. His heart swelled with pride. Vykor was a good choice. He will do well in his new role as chieftain. His red eyes glowed and a ghostly white smile spread open his lips. Time to pay his son a visit and congratulate him.

CHAPTER TWO

-A BITTER-SWEET HOMECOMING-

Grand Council Chamber Building, Kublisa

Goldeye's heart pounded as he, El and Gems climbed the steps leading to the Grand Council Building. His one green eye and one deep gold eye (hence his name) set on a group of young looking gold, white, and blue dragons gawking back at them. Judging by the stunned expressions on the youngsters' faces, complete surprise had been achieved.

Goldeye kept a neutral face as he, El and Gems crossed over the top step and moved to the group. Good afternoon, he greeted, his gaze landing on a wide-eyed female white dragon.

G-General Goldeye, she gasped, her mouth hanging open.

El suppressed a small laugh by pretending to cough.

Is council still in session? Goldeye inquired, trying to sound as impassive as possible.

No, sir, she answered. Session ended early today.

The councilors are still here, aren't they? Goldeye asked her.

Yes, sir.

"Who's the acting green dragon councilor?" El snarled, throwing her a menacing leer.

That would be Councilor Aldon, sir, she responded, alarm growing in her voice.

"Aldon? El slapped a hand over his eyes, his lips curled into a sneer. Ugh!"

The young white dragon turned her attention back to Goldeye. Shall I take you to one of them, sir?

Thank you, no, Goldeye grinned, brushing the offer aside. I know my way around these halls very well.

***

Walking into the cavernous entrance hall of the Grand Council Building was like a breath of fresh air to Goldeye. He had almost forgotten how much he loved this place. El excused himself from Goldeye and Gems and stormed off toward the Green Dragon Councilor's Office. Councilor Aldon had better be in his best form today.

Goldeye fixed his attention on a blue dragon in a purple tunic, who stepped out of a room, moving toward the entrance hall.

He recognized the face. Jro? His brow creased.

The blue dragon named Jro gazed back at Goldeye with wide eyes and a raised brow. The gods in heaven! she gasped in a high-pitched feminine voice, running at him and throwing her arms around him, nearly knocking him to the ground. Thank the gods you're safe! she exclaimed, releasing him and stepping back. Her indigo eyes darted to Gems, who stood behind Goldeye. Gems, how are you?

I'm well, Jro, thank you. Gems nodded, showing a polite smile.

What do they have you do here? Goldeye asked, smiling.

I'm the Blue Dragon Councilor, Jro responded, puffing out her chest. It was made official about a month ago.

Goldeye's smile widened. Please accept my belated congratulations, Councilor. His mind instantly zipped back to the former Blue Dragon Councilor, Jossic. Did your brother step down then?

A mournful expression crawled over Jro's face.

Gems frowned.

It happened about three weeks ago, Jro swallowed hard, her eyes going glassy and welling with tears. Jossic led an expedition into the Haxokrin Mountains chasing after the vordral. What they didn't know was they were being led into a trap. Jro's expression grew darker. They were ambushed in a small valley near the Nelvainian border... Only a hand full got out alive. Jossic was not among the survivors.

An empty feeling pinched at Goldeye's innards as if he were being squeezed by a vice. Horrible memories of Robsko's assassination flash flooded through his mind. Jossic was a friend — a brother. Like Robsko, Jossic and Goldeye were young when they met. Jossic held the rank of Junior Lieutenant in the Knights of the Teal Cross Legion. Jossic had fought his way to the top ranks during the Griffon War, earning honors and medals along the way.

Goldeye's brow slanted up, the lively flesh tone drained out of his face. A knot formed in his stomach. His knees went weak and felt like they were about to give out from under him.

General! Gems exclaimed as she and Jro rushed to him and held him up by his arms.

I'm alright, he wheezed, though he felt anything but alright.

Goldeye had seen a lot of death in his many years, including that of several friends. Yet when friends had become family, it made the loss all the more agonizing. It was a risk every soldier took. Every warrior, from the highest ranking general down to the lowliest trooper understood that when one's number was up — it was up. The death lottery apparently had landed on Jossic's number.

***

Jro bade goodbye to Goldeye and Gems before resuming her business. Goldeye dismissed Gems for the afternoon leaving himself alone in an eerily quiet entrance hall. He strode out of the hall and down the wide main corridor that split deep into the building's superstructure. He slowly turned his head from side to side looking at the doors. His eyes sat for a moment on the first one to his right. A gritty, gray layer of dust blanketed the metal door knob and a heavy padlock that hung from it. He focused his attention on the dusty, rectangular sign, still nailed at chest-level on the door. He grimaced as he made out the words announcing Councilor Zare's Office.

Goldeye carried on, still glancing at the doors, looking a bit like a tourist. He moved by the closed door to Councilor Aldon's Office. El's voice rang loud and clear from the other side, Councilor Aldon was catching quite an ear-full. The old dragon's lips curled into a satisfied grin. He felt the scolding Aldon was getting was justified.

His mind raced back to that sad day when they first entered the Green Dragon Councilory Building in Rampoor and found it gutted. Plundered, not by the enemy, but by the acting Green Dragon Councilor's staff. To add to the humiliation, they fled — like thieves in the night — for the safety of Kublisa.

He ambled on, his boot steps echoed over the cobbled floor and bounced off the wood and stone walls. His eyes fixed on the open wooden door leading in to the White Dragon Councilor's Office. His pulse quickened, his heart beat picked up as he moved closer to the entrance.

Goldeye poked his head through the doorway and spied a young bespectacled dragon hard at work behind the councilor's desk. The youngster's crocodile-like snout was pointed down at some papers he held in his hands. He lifted his green eyes once at Goldeye and back down to his reports — then he fired a wide-eyed open-mouthed gaze at the old dragon. General Goldeye, he gasped, shooting up from his chair. You're well, blessed fortune!

Hello Councilor Gisko, Goldeye beamed.

Gisko rounded the desk and wrapped his arms around his mentor. Welcome home, sir! He stepped back and gestured to an empty chair perched opposite from the councilor's chair. The two sat down.

It seemed strange to Goldeye to be sitting on this side of the councilor's desk.

I see Gems did her job well, sir, Gisko smiled widely.

You could not have sent anyone better, Goldeye complimented. You don't have to call me sir anymore. You are my senior now.

Gisko flashed a sheepish smile. "I know. You brought me up through the ranks. You taught me. You took care of me. To me, you will always be Sir."

A short pause.

Goldeye leaned back in his chair, keeping a firm gaze on his former adjutant. So, when did the appointment become official?

A nervous expression galloped over Gisko's face and he swallowed hard. Please understand, sir, a plea heavy in his voice. We thought you were dead. After Ozolla Pass fell, our links to Green Dragon Territory had been severed.

Yes, I know, Goldeye grimaced.

We tried numerous times to contact you in Rampoor — But we couldn't get through.

Goldeye nodded. Nothing was getting in or out of the territory.

After six months of not hearing anything, Gisko pressed on. We feared the worst.

Goldeye remained silent.

I was sworn in shortly after that, Gisko finished, his facial expression suggested he wasn't pleased about it.

Dark thoughts filtered into Goldeye's mind about Zhangi. Goldeye knew his old friend was not a power-grabber. He reminded himself that he turned over his council-leader position to Zhangi. A question had ensnared itself in his brain; Did Zhangi remember that it was only until he, Goldeye, had returned? Now he was back.

When did Zhangi swear himself in? Goldeye inquired, his eyes glinting and his brow furrowing slightly.

Gisko shook his head, throwing a confused look at his mentor. He didn't. The council unanimously voted him in. Again, sir, we thought you were dead.

Goldeye shifted in his chair, feeling as uncomfortable as Gisko looked, his eyes dropping to the floor. His heart fell into his stomach. An empty, angry feeling tore at his innards. The terrible, cruel, disappointing reality of it all mauled his already shredded soul. Yet the old dragon rebounded with all the ease of a veteran gambler who had just been dealt a bad hand and losing a fortune but still had a fortune to play with.

We were all sworn in on the same day, sir, Gisko added.

Goldeye leaned forward in his chair. He extended his right hand over the desk to Gisko. Please accept my belated congratulations — Councilor Gisko!

A huge smile tore around the young dragon's face as he eagerly grasped the older dragon's hand and shook it.

Another pause.

Goldeye's face drooped into a frown. When I first spoke with Gems in Rampoor, she told me some disturbing things.

A scowl replaced the happy beam on Gisko's face. All of it is true, I'm afraid.

Gems said the griffons have been seeking permission to invade Black Dragon Territory. Goldeye's eyes staying on Gisko's face.

Gisko nodded grimly. Ambassador Romar has insisted, time-and-time again, the griffons are ready to attack. He insists they can end this war and deliver Zare to us, however we want him.

Hmph, Goldeye grunted, keeping an unreadable expression parked on his face. Zhangi doesn't trust them.

Gisko frowned and slowly shook his head. He's told Romar that a griffon attack, no matter where in Dragonsrod, or what the reason is, is not acceptable.

Another short but tense pause.

Naturally, Romar was shocked, Gisko resumed. "Zhangi didn't let up. He warned Romar that any griffon aggression, even in Black Dragon Territory, would strike at the very heart of our alliance."

The old dragon's eyes narrowed. Zhangi didn't think very much of the alliance. He wasn't just stepping on Romar's toes — he was stomping on them! Goldeye could imagine how angry Sheema must be. She labored tirelessly to make this alliance, from a laughable pipe dream, into the astonishing reality it had become. Then, to stand by, helpless as the new council-leader swept it all away, seemingly due to his old grudges.

Zhangi's making a terrible mistake, Goldeye muttered.

Yes, sir, Gisko agreed.

Is Romar still here in Kublisa?

Yes, sir. He's staying at the Griffon Ambassador's complex at 1285 Chortax Place.

I need to speak to Romar, Goldeye whispered, staring out into space. That is, his eyebrows rising and his attention shifting to Gisko. With your permission, sir.

Gisko stood out of his chair, as did Goldeye.

Of course, Gisko responded. His eyes locking with Goldeye's, Good luck, sir.

Thank you, Councilor. Goldeye smiled, which quickly faded. One more thing, sir. I need Gems at my disposal.

Of course, Gisko nodded.

Give her the order verbally, Goldeye instructed. Do not write it down, I don't want anything being traced back to you. If I go down for whatever it is I have to do... I don't want you going down with me.

Gisko drew in — then blew out — a long sigh. He swallowed while nodding his head.

***

Goldeye stepped into to the main corridor. His eyes set on a large, muscular form with horse ears and a square jaw with two dark, beady eyes glaring back at him from out in the Main Entrance Hall. Unmoved, Goldeye strode casually toward the hulking figure standing in front of the Hall's doors. It was Zhangi.

Back from the dead, are you? Zhangi snarled, his voice spewing ice and contempt. His eyes glinting. Come back to reclaim your position?

I'm glad to see you too, Council-Leader Zhangi, Goldeye returned, keeping his facial expression neutral.

"Congratulations on your victory at Rampoor." Zhangi flashed a cold smile.

It's hardly a victory when I can't keep the city from being burnt of cinders, Goldeye countered.

The smile vanished from Zhangi's face. The menacing glint, however, gleamed in his eyes. What were you and Gisko talking about?

Nothing much, Goldeye masterfully kept his voice calm and his face unreadable. We were just renewing an old acquaintance. That's still legal isn't it?

Zhangi belched out a loud cackle that seemed to echo off the walls. Of course it is! He patted Goldeye on his left shoulder plate.

Goldeye sensed a change in Zhangi's demeanor from cold and defensive to more approachable, borderline friendly. A warm, curving smile split around his face and a twinkle sparkled in his dark eyes.

It's always good to see you, my old friend, Zhangi barked, his face changing from one expression to another. Why are you here? You weren't recalled.

I caught some disturbing rumors blowing in the wind, Goldeye returned.

Did you now? Zhangi's voice was calm and polite. What did the little breezes tell you?

Goldeye flashed a cautious smile. They told me some disturbing news about a disagreement between the Dragonsrod Grand Council-Leader and the griffons concerning the latter's plans.

Zhangi's mouth melted to frown and he shot a stern gaze at Goldeye. That doesn't concern you!

On the contrary, sir, it does! Goldeye countered, standing his ground.

The griffons are asking too much!

Do you know that for sure?

Zhangi coughed out an angry grunt.

Sheema and I can talk to Romar, Goldeye said. He knows us — he knows our reputations. His eyes boring into Zhangi's. Let us get to the bottom of whatever the issues are.

Zhangi stared off as though something far off had grabbed his attention. He held his left hand to his mouth and pinched his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger. He appeared to be mulling the idea over. Alright, he gave in after what felt like ages. He fired a hard gaze at Goldeye. "I'm giving you one chance, General!" He flicked an index finger at the other as if he were a teacher scolding an unruly student.

Thank you, sir, Goldeye grinned before his mouth straightened again. One chance is all we're going to get.

***

Goldeye and Council-Leader Zhangi parted ways. The old dragon strode out of the Grand Council Building, his eyes sweeping over the rough and jagged Kublisa city scape. An uneasy feeling gripped his gut over the odd encounter with the council-leader. Zhangi was playing a dangerous game with the griffons. The absolute last thing Dragonsrod needs right now is another enemy, especially one as powerful as the Griffon Empire. Time was of the essence. He turned around and went back inside the building. He had to speak to Sheema.

CHAPTER THREE

-THE MYSTERIOUS MYNN-

Queen Catra's Palace, Aizon, Abyssina.

Hyenids, on average, didn't venture too far from their home provinces. Of course, exceptions always arise from the rule. The hyenid standing in front of the palace doors was far from home. She seemed about as indifferent about it as Moira had become about being away from Dragonsrod.

The blonde-furred and green-eyed Kaymo interviewed Mynn at length. Something about her shot his apprehension through the roof. Maybe it was her fierce appearance; She did look as though she wanted to destroy the world and had set out to do so. Maybe it was her size. She stood as tall as Kaymo and was about as big. No way would she be allowed to roam around the castle without an escort.

Kaymo sent Mynn with an armed guard to the Main Conference Chamber on the ground floor. He had a runner fetch Moira and Alexander.

Mynn stepped to the conference room table and slid out of her traveling cloak and nonchalantly tossed it onto the Queen's chair at the head of the table. The door opened with a squeak. She fired a hard, icy stare at the forms of a female white dragon and her apparent offspring.

Moira let out an uncontrolled gasp as she gazed back at the hyenid. Savage was the only word that came to her mind. The hyenid's arms bulged from her tight-fitting, sleeveless, leathery top while her cold looking, beady eyes drilled invisible holes through Moira's head before sinking to Alexander. Moira instinctively set her right hand on Alexander's chest, with a forced calm, pushing him behind her.

Don't worry, the hyenid spoke with a low, smooth voice. I am not going to harm you... In fact, the opposite is true. I am to be your protector.

Alexander stepped out from behind his mom. The gargoyles sent you, this was not a question.

The hyenid's hard gaze pounded his face.

Moira twitched, unease and fear slushed up the blood in her veins. Who are you? she barked. Really?

Alexander launched a shocked gaze at his mother. Mom!

The hyenid slid her eyes to Moira. My name is Mynn. She approached the two. Do you think for a moment, that if I were sent to kill you that we would be standing here talking about it?

Point.

Mom! Alexander pleaded, looking up at her. The gargoyles sent her. It's alright!

Moira backed down, but she was none too happy about it.

We haven't a lot of time, Mynn continued. Cillis is several days journey from here. You must put your affairs here in order as soon as possible.

Wait a minute, Moira held up her open hands to her chest level. "I can't just up and leave! To tell the truth, I wasn't expecting you this soon. It's going to take me some time to, as you put it, 'put my affairs here in order.'"

Mynn's brow wrinkled, she seemed somewhat confused by Moira's standoffish behavior.

Alexander watched to the two with growing concern. Mynn looked to be one who shouldn't be trifled with.

Fine! Mynn conceded, no friendliness at all in her voice. Do what you must. Her eyes glinted as they locked onto Moira's face. We leave as soon as you're ready.

Moira retreated to her quarters, practically dragging Alexander behind her. Only a few days had past since her son had had his dream, or vision, or whatever it was! She could feel panic setting in. There's been no time! Her thoughts screamed.

Moira dashed here and darted there in her quarters. She zipped to her closet, practically ripping the doors from their hinges. Alexander sat quietly on his bed and watched his mother as she grabbed dresses, tunics and blouses and flung them onto her bed. She rushed from her closet to her night stand, pulling a stack of papers and a pen and an ink bottle from the top drawer.

Mom? Alexander asked, the question mark growing larger over his head with each passing moment.

Like a greedy shopper, Moira threw her load on the night stand before running back to the closet to grab some more items.

Mom? Alexander's face scrunched, anger swept away the confusion. The palace isn't on fire! There's no hurry!

Moira froze in the middle of yanking another bunch of clothes out of the closet. She blinked her eyes, an absent, stunned expression shrouding her face, giving the look as though she had just been slapped back to reality.

What am I doing? She shook her head, engulfed in embarrassment, dipping her snout to her chest. I'm sorry, Alexander. She dropped the clothes into a loose pile on the floor. I don't know what came over me.

I've read about hyenids, Alexander's anger ebbed as he watched his mother reach down to put her garments back into the closet. They aren't known for their patience.

I gathered that, Moira turned back to her bed, her eyes falling to her son. She just... scared me. That's all.

I need to talk to her he announced.

"What?" she fired an 'are you kidding' look at him.

The gargoyles sent her! He paused, then spoke in as reassuring of a voice as he could muster. "She won't hurt me. If she is our escort, I need to get to know her."

***

Alexander felt no fear or misgivings as he banged his knuckles against the door to Mynn's quarters.

It's open, Mynn's voice snapped from inside.

Her door squeaked open as Alexander padded into the room. He took mental notes as he looked around her apartment. Her quarters didn't look much different from his, except for only one bed. A small wooden chair and table was placed against the opposite wall.

Mynn leaned against her window sill, her arms folded and her steely gaze focused on something outside. You're brave, she growled, not looking at him, coming in here all by yourself. Her penetrating glare now touching down on his face. You've grown some too.

His cobalt blue eyes lowered to his body before raising up to her hard gaze. He had grown a couple more inches in the last month or so. His third birthday was just a few short weeks away, but his physical appearance made him look like a dragon of about twelve years of age.