2008 Gren Drake

Spring, 320

The floor of the tavern wasn't all that dirty; still, Judith was sweeping the floor anyway. Aside from Robert, who both owned and ran the tavern, and herself there were only two others, both patrons. They were travelers who had stopped for what was either an early lunch of a late breakfast.

There was never much business during the spring. It was too early for merchants who would come for the harvest and too late for the vagrants wanting winter lodging. The kitchen was shut down; the only food they had prepared was the pot of stew that hung over the hearth.

Behind the short bar Robert had settled onto a stool and alternated between scowling at the pair of patrons and staring at the ceiling with a dreamy smile. No doubt whatever thoughts were locked up in his head would remain there. He rarely spoke his mind.

A piercing scream from outside interrupted her listless sweeping. The broom fell, clattering to the ground, as her eyes turned towards where the flimsy door was blocked open to allow the spring air in. The two patrons turned towards the door as well, standing as they did. Strangely, Robert didn't even seem to notice the scream.

Judith rushed towards the door, leaving broom, patrons and Robert behind her. Even as she reached the door, there were more screams. Looking out the door, she became pale.

Making their way down the street was a squad of drakonians. As they moved they would force their way into buildings, pulling some people out, escorting them out of the town, leaving others to weep and scream at their losses. Any who tried to bring weapons on them were slain without hesitation. Though the screams were clear, she could not hear what they were telling people; this did not displease her.

Although rumors had brought word of their existence, and of their rampages through civilized lands, she had never imagined they would bring Seka's war to Northford. And their appearance! From the rumors, she had thought they'd have looked hideous, instead they looked only inhuman.

They all looked identical to her eyes. Standing slightly taller than the people they were herding, they had to be about six feet tall. Very little of their heavily scaled flesh was exposed--most was concealed beneath layers of armor. Small clouds of dust rose when their heavy boots struck the ground; both legs and footwear were severally grayed. Oddly, the boots exposed their toes, revealing wicked-looking claws that scratched at the dirt with every step. Wings spread from their backs, moving with their steps, but held closely to their bodies. A tail drooped between their legs, the last few inches dragging in the dirt, save when this limb lashed, sending up clouds of dust. Their faces were short snouts, largely concealed beneath helmets, their jaws moving rapidly as they shouted unheard orders.

For a few seconds she just watched them. The drakonians ignored the citizens who cowered or scrambled out of their way. The only ones they showed any interest in where those who fought back and those who were taken away.

Even as her mind took in the scene she was watching more drakonians appeared in the distance sending up more dust and taking more people away. There were far more of them than there were residents and unlike the people of Northford they were all well armed and armored. Taking several steps backwards, she retreated into he tavern.

"Drakonians! They're taking the townspeople!"

The two patrons leapt to their feet and were out the door in only seconds. Strangely, Robert didn't seem to react. Thinking he was in shock, Judith ran towards him.

"Ah," he said.

"They're taking people away; anyone who resists them is killed!"

"We'll be safe." He picked at his fingernails as he spoke.

She leaned over the counter, her head not far from his. "How can you be sure of that?"

"Take my word for it. There is no resisting the might of Seka. If you don't resist, they won't have any interest in you."

"Unless they send us away!" She froze, hearing the clomp of heavy boots on the wooden steps leading up to the tavern's porch. Desperate to find a hiding place, she looked around herself. Where could she hide?

She was beginning to panic when her eyes fell on the door to the back-room. There were a few kegs of ale back there, and some food stuffs. More importantly, it was out of sight and, even were someone to look inside, it was dark. She darted through the door, carefully closing it softly behind her so that it made no sound. Then she was behind one of the barrels, crouching in the darkness and shivering.

A deep, harsh voice spoke; it had a heavy accent she couldn't recognize, but it was still fairly clear. A shudder passed through her; no doubt the voice belonged to one of the drakonians.

"I am Forward Guard Akar. You are Robert?"

Why would they be specifically looking for him, she wondered.

"I am. You are from the Seekers? They will keep their side?"

"They have sent me to deliver you unto them for your reward." There was the sound of someone spitting. "Where is the girl?"

"Judith?" A pause. "She was here just a moment ago. Doesn't seem to be here now, though." Robert did not seem overly concerned about where she was, something for which she was very glad. She could only wonder what he was involved in.

"I can see that, human."

"Forget her, let's go." A chair scrapped across the floor. Footsteps. "Hey! What-"

"It is a shame you have refused to accompany us, traitor."

"But, but I-"

A sickening thud, then two more.

"Disgusting, selling out his own people to the Seekers."

"Indeed." Another harsh voice. "Gugr, see if you can find some ale; the traitor should have some in the back room, then run the body over to the Seekers. No doubt they'll have some use for it."

"Aye, sir." A third voice. More footsteps. The door to the back-room was thrown open, flooding the room with light. Judith scrambled backwards, squeezing herself into the corner behind a couple of barrels.

She clasped her silver pendant of Azreth in one hand, hoping by whatever miracles the god could work for her that she would go unnoticed. The pendant had not known the hands of a cleric since her mother's husband had died, but still she hoped.

The drakonian, brightly lit by the open door, grabbed one of the barrels closest to the door and carried it out. The door was left open behind him and she could see the shadows of the drakonians as they moved about the main room.

It was only when she released her breath that Judith realized that she was holding it. Still alive. She was still alive, and she was free. Drakonians may have been occupying the tavern and Robert may have been dead, but she was still alive and she was still free.

Now all she had to do with get out.

The back-room had no windows. It had always been intended for storage and barrels gained no benefit from sunlight. A lantern hung by the door, intended for those times more light was needed than the open door provided. There were a few loose barrels by the door, but most where stacked in the corner she was in. There were also shelves on the other side of the room, and a variety of dried foodstuffs were arranged there.

Hopefully the drakonians were not planning on staying long. She could not imagine that they would have a hope of holding the town once the southern king heard of their attack. Surely their attack was more in the nature of a raid.

Hours passed, each seeming to stretch longer than the last. One of the drakonians came into the backroom to retrieve another keg a couple more times. Judith pressed herself into the corner, counting the barrels until she would be exposed.

As they consumed Robert's rather minimal supply of ale, she was able to listen to their idle chatter, but little was of interest. They gossiped, they cursed the Seekers, they made dirty jokes. As time went on, she could hear them get louder and could hear furniture
being knocked around and broken.

Finally one of them said the words she was waiting for: "Time to get back to the patrol. The captain'll want a report soon." After a few mumbled agreements she could hear boots crossing the floor and then there was silence.

After walking to the door, she began to step out, but she jerked herself back, her heart seemingly frozen in fear.

There were still drakonians in the tavern.

Most were unconscious, slumped over the bar, over tables, or even collapsed on the floor. Most of these had mugs close at hand and their backs rose and feel rhythmically. It seemed they were asleep.

Two, however, had clear a section of floor. Their armor was piled nearby, as were a number of leather garments she presumed they had worn under the armor. They crouched on the floor and numerous dice were scattered between them; it seemed they were playing some kind of game.

It seemed there was at least two shifts of drakonians then. And one of them appeared to be off-duty. There was no sign that they were planning on going anywhere anytime soon so she remained inside the back-room, hoping that no further drakonians would arrive.

It took about an hour for the pair to finish their game and to make their way upstairs. As they walked they spoke in low, guttural tones making frequent gestures, many of which seemed obscene, and each put an arm over the other shoulders, leaning into each other as they walked.

Once they were out of sight, Judith crept through the lower level of the building; with luck they would not return until she was gone. Before stepping out the door, she looked out the window. A small group of drakonians were walking down the street in the dim evening light. They didn't seem to be paying much attention to their surroundings, but she waited until they, too, were out of sight. As she waited, the beating of her heart seemed a pounding in her ears. Once they were gone, she slipped out the door, hurrying down the street and heading out of town.

As she walked, clinging to the shadows and ducking out of sight whenever she saw or heard anything, she thought about the invasion. Although initially she had believed the drakonians were just passing through, it looked more and more like they were planning on staying. And if the drakonians (and thus Seka) were planning to occupy the hamlet, the southern king would be up in arms as soon as he heard about it--though small, Northford occupied a central position in the network of farms that supported the southern lands. As soon as the southern king knew, his armies would be on the march. And no matter Seka's cruelties, she could not imagine the god defeating the legendary armies of the southern king--armies said king often claimed had been involved in the ancient assault on the demon-lords themselves. Thus, the town would be liberated within a few months at worst, she just had to survive until then.

It did not take long to reach the edge of the hamlet, but she didn't stop until she reached the mill. She leaned against the side of the mill, listening to the slow creaking of the waterwheel as it turned slowly in the river.

Her rest was interrupted, however, by strange, not entirely unfamiliar voices from inside the small home attached to the mill. She slipped along the wall until she found a window and leaned over just enough that she was able to look through it.

Inside, two drakonians were confronting Donald Miller and his wife Angela. Donald was backed against the wall, his lips moving silently. A half-eaten meal rested near him, utensils sitting disarrayed around it. His wife was on her knees before the drakonians, looking up to them. 

One of the drakonians stood near the window, his back to it, thus giving her a close view of his mail, and of his unarmored tail. Although this made it harder for her to see in it also made it less likely anyone would see her outside. The other drakonian's eyes were locked onto Angela, his snout tilted downwards as he stared at her.

"You will tell us where your son is," this drakonian said.

"I don't know! Please, he's on the road! He's taking a shipment of grain to the southern market!"

With on scaled hand he grabbed the woman's head, forcing her to look at him. His hand seemed to dwarf her head.

"You better be telling the truth woman."

"Please! He left before we knew you were coming! He knows nothing!"

The drakonian casually tossed her to the floor and looked to his companion. "She says nothing."

"I can see that, Nirad." The other drakonian spoke for the first time, sounding more irritated than anything else. As he spoke, he turned towards his companion, leaving his back exposed to Donald, who had not moved since Judith first saw him.

She restrained a gasp as suddenly he was moving, the knife from the plate in his hand as he almost flew towards the drakonian. The blade dug deeply into the creature's shoulder, finding access through the neck opening of the mail. The drakonian shouted as he grabbed his wounded shoulder and fell to his knees.

With a smooth motion the other drakonian, Nirad, turned, drew his sword, and plunged it into Donald. Before Donald could even react the blade was withdrawn again, now stained bright red.

Judith stumbled backwards, staring mutely as Donald's tunic was stained red. He clutched at his chest, but nothing he did helped. He fell to his knees, collapsing slowly. He must have seen her movement as he turned his head, his eyes meeting hers, their gazes locking for a moment before he spoke the last word of his life in a weak, wavering voice. 

"Bastard." Then he fell to the floor, silent and motionless.

It was a moment before Judith recovered enough from the shock of what she'd seen to return her attention to the drakonians. The individual who had been hit with the knife was sitting on the table, his mail shirt and leather undershirt resting next to him, as the other quickly bandaged the wound.

Though she looked pale and appeared to be trembling, Angela had managed to stand and her eyes were on her newly deceased husband laying in a pool of his blood.

"What a fool!" Nirad said. "Now the captain is going to have to detail someone to remain in this shack to deal with the grain. No doubt Seka will need to bless someone with the appropriate knowledge." Both the drakonians grimaced.

"Twice a fool to have attacked like that," the wounded drakonian said, shaking his head. "Really, what did he expect? Now I'm going to be laid up here and stuck with these bloody stupid, homicidal people."

"You won't be the only one. The priests will be leaving a full garrison in this place. Not to mention leaving more to fill the holes by people who got themselves killed, or that were chosen by the priests. Despite being the cause of the whole thing, I doubt the priests are going to do a damned thing to help."

The wounded drakonian sighed and stood. "Time to report back." He picked up his leather undershirt and, with help from his companion, was able to get it back on again, and got the mail on over it.

"Take the body with you. I'll stay here and make sure the woman doesn't do anything stupid."

With another sigh, Donald's body was slung over the drakonian's unwounded shoulder, eliciting only a small wince. Then he left, kicking the door open ahead of him and allowing it to swing shut behind him on its own, nearly clipping the end of his tail.

Judith watched the door for only a few moments before motion from the remaining drakonian caught her attention. She was surprised to see that he was stripping out of his armor, dropping it in a scattered pile by the window, then stripping off his underclothes, these ending up on top of the armor, leaving him standing nude with his back to her. The reasons for his actions were not immediately clear, but became so quite quickly.

The drakonian turned slightly to look at Angela. "So, are you going to fight this?" He proved his lips more supple then they looked by forming them into a long grin, exposing his numerous pointed teeth.

"Fiend! Azreth curse you!" The woman took several panicked steps back, the drakonian turning so that he still faced her. Judith could now see that his cock with hard, bobbing slightly as he moved.

"The priests can fix that, woman. I fear no god but Seka." He took a few steps towards her.

"Back, fiend!"

Hooking a claw under the upper edge of Angela's dress, he tore the front open. With a couple more motions he had torn the arms open as well, allowing the dress to fall limply to the ground. A few strands of fabric still clung to her body, but otherwise she stood naked before her assailant. "You want it rough? So glad to hear it."

As Angela screamed, pushing herself back against the wall, Judith turned away from the window and slipped a few feet away. She found herself wracked with a twisting sickness in her gut as she tried to ignore the screams clearly audible through window, knowing she could do nothing without becoming a victim herself.

Before long it had become to much for her to bear. She stood and ran from the unseen acts being performed so near. She didn't stop until she could not longer hear the screams, whether because they had stopped, or because distance silenced them.

When she looked about herself she realized she had unconsciously run to what she had thought of as home for most of her life, the place she had always been able to find safety and sanctuary: the tavern. It was neither home nor safe anymore, however.

Something just off the porch caught her eye. Turning, she saw that it was Robert's head, planted on a short spear that had been set into the ground. his lifeless eyes stared outwards, seeming to look at anyone who approached the building. A sign had been nailed to the spear, the word 'traitor' crudely written on it. She looked away not wanting to see the gruesome sight.

Seeing that the door was open, she crept up to it, standing next to it and looking over its edge at the interior of the tavern.

Sitting inside was a single drakonian sitting on a chair by a table that was otherwise alone in the midst of the room. Most of the furniture was pushed back against the walls and a fair amount was broken, having been reduced to pieces of rubble. One of his clawed hands was wrapped around a large ale mug. His armor was absent, as was his undershirt. Short leather leggings covered the tops of his thighs, but he wore nothing more. A somewhat stained bandage was wrapped around one shoulder, making her wonder if it was the drakonian she had seen Donald attack earlier.

Pulling her head back from the doorway, Judith leaned against the wall of the tavern. She had seen too many drakonians today; only yesterday they had had something of myth about them, but now they had overrun her small town. As much as she'd known the stories and rumors that had been coming in where true, she had never quite believed them until the drakonians had actually arrived--Seka was too much something out of stories for her to believe the god actually shown up until they'd arrived.

The best thing to do, she knew, would be to flee south and beg the southern king for protection. Northford was properly part of his domain, so he was obliged to provide it. But there was nothing for her in the south; she knew no one there, and had no valued skills they would need. It would be flooded with refugees; wherever the agents of Seka went civilization fled. And since Northford was the agricultural center of the northern lands, there would likely be famine in the southern lands. Famine that would weaken them against Seka's might.

If she wasn't going to flee, she needed to find some way of protecting herself from the ravages of the army occupying her hamlet. She needed to avoid becoming a victim, as Angela had.

A lump formed in her through as she realized what she was considering. Surely that was going to far, and would be no better than Angela's fate.

But part of her brain was telling her that if she was willing, or even appeared eager, she would have more control. And this drakonian would neither be going anywhere, nor would be very likely to be too rough, given the state of his shoulder.

Judith hesitated, hanging on the edge of the doorway. Then she could hear the heavy boot-steps of the drakonians, followed soon by the sight of them coming around a corner. She hadn't been seen yet, but it would only be a matter of time until she was.

Swallowing both pride and dignity, she entered the tavern, knocking the door shut with one foot as she entered. She forced herself to walk normally, not creeping nor stepping overloudly, as she approached the lone drakonian.