Cenda

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. The words were etched into the stone arch of the gateway, a clear message to any traveller passing through as to who controlled this land. That the dragons were here now. The rulers of Inbar Sechuar considered themselves kin to the great drakes of legend, the draconic iconography of their house was impossible to miss, statues, glyphs, carvings and columns all bearing their heraldry littered the cities architecture. Cenda had seen many noble houses liken themselves to the beasts in her travels though few as boldly as the princes of this mighty state. Power, wielded in many ways, in many forms by many peoples.

Power, the word tumbled round in her mind, what it meant and to who? A question she often found herself contemplating in those moments between the calm and the storm. When power, no matter its form was at its most visible. She was one of many queued in a long disorderly line in the shadow of the great gates, wedged between tall overhanging buildings that made up the narrow street. Progress was slow, the queue inching forward. She was close enough to see why.

The gate-guards, heavily armed elves with an all too liberal attitude to their duties, were thoroughly searching those leaving. A flustered Caledii fur-trader was finally allowed through the gates and they all shuffled forward in his wake. Cenda had noticed coin discreetly changing hands, the glint of silver being exchanged.

The gap-toothed guard-captain made no effort to hide his haul, or the pleasure he took in it. The coins flicked through his fingers before being stuffed greedily into a leather purse on his belt, one of several she noted. Only half of them were full which did nothing to ease the growing tension at the front of the queue. The traders wagon cleared the gateway and the guard captain raised his gloved hand.

“NEXT!”. He cried far louder than was conceivably necessary, beady eyes sizing up the peasant farmer ahead of her in line as his small cart trundled into place. Power, here at the edge of this city it was wielded with the complexity of a blunt object, the sophistication of a barbarian using a club or a robber the tip of their blade. Cenda clutched her staff instinctively pulling it close, as simple oak stave a pace longer than she was tall.

Shouting erupted and the peasant flew backwards from his cart striking the cobblestones face first before slumping into a hard roll at her feet. She wanted to help the farmer but knew it would only make the situation worse. Gap-tooth stormed forwards, looming over him. “I’m gunna hold on to this until you can offer something more valuable than GRAIN!”. The peasant scampered away on all fours putting a few bodies between himself and the guard-captain leaving Cenda at the head of the queue. The peasant's cart was dragged aside by the captains' goons who sniggered maliciously, like all good cronies do.

Cenda pulled her stone-grey cloak about her as she stepped forward, a thick woollen barrier against the elements and more importantly, the guards. That it helped drown out the occasional rattle of her chain-mail was neither here nor there. “NEXT!”. The shout rung her ears. She felt countless eyes on her as she stepped forward, the predatory gaze of the guards and the helpless glare of the others in line, knowing their turn too would come. The guard-captain grinned flashing his gap-teeth and with the look of an elf appraising a prized horse at market, he began circling like a hawk. Like a vulture, Cenda corrected herself, hawks at least had some nobility.

“Pretty one” he said lifting a lock of her auburn hair, looking her up and down as if he was able to see through her many layers. He grinned back to the other guards who sniggered like a pack of hyenas. The captain continued his search, Cenda winced under the thoroughness of his gaze though tried to hide it.

Power to this vulture meant he could do as he liked, the simplest iteration of the word and yet here he held sway. Ironic, in that he stood in the shadow of those who held true power, who owned the gate, the city and the valleys beyond, the dragon Archon of Inbar Sechuar. In comparison this guard-captains power was less than a drop of water in a great sea, if he knew or cared he showed no sign rather he strode confidently around her as if he commanded the very stones on which he walked. A sadistic performance to a captive audience.

Gap-tooth took of his helm, a tall conical design matching the other guards save for the stylised wings etched around the eyeholes to mark his rank. Every crevice was filled with grime she noticed, much like the rest of his gear from the bronze scales that made up his cuirass to the soddy patches on his faded blue tunic. Even his sword was characteristically grubby, protruding from his belt as a reminder of his authority just like the heraldry of the Archon. “What's your business, pretty one?” he asked in a gruff voice, sweeping a hand through thin greasy hair and bathing Cenda in hot rancid breath.

She pulled back instinctively shrinking from the vile stench, her knuckles whitening protectively around the staff. She had met his type before, different places, different people, all the same. This brute would be like them, a jackdaw looking for something shiny, not a walking stick. It would be impossible for him to contemplate, even if he knew what was hidden in her staff it was beyond his reckoning as to how it could be used. A power that could topple kingdoms and kings in the right hands, that could change history for better or worse but because it could not crack someone over the head, this brute wouldn’t recognise it even if she showed him! Its why she had chosen to exit through the smallest of the city's gates.

He grabbed her arm, “Whats’a matter, you shy?” he said hauling her closer. She cursed under her breath as once more she was bathed in his. The other guards sniggered. Power was a funny thing, despite her staff, despite the mighty dragon Archon, it was this guard and his smirking cronies who held it here.

“Im leaving to visit my family” she lied sharply pulling away, a little more sharply than intended. Angering his sort had never yielded positive results in her extensive experience so she disguised offence with a thin smile preformed with practiced execution. Not too friendly, just enough and no more. Her brilliant grin and wide green eyes had washed away any offense before gap-tooth had a chance to register it, he returned the favour with his own yellowed grin. Too much she scalded herself, noticing a menacing glint in his eye.

“Family eh?”, he breathed the words running his hand through her dark-auburn hair. “Them roads is dangerous, what family sending a beauty like you out on em lonesome roads-”, he grinned to his cronies who were advancing closer, “all alone”. They chuckled and Cenda didn’t like the edge in it, she didn’t like where this was going!

“Is this a toll gate?”, she asked innocently, knowing it was not. “I can of course pay!” she said producing several silver and copper coins, a sizable sum which she desperately hoped would buy him off.

The guard smiled and with mangled gloves closed Cenda’s hands gently around the coins pushing them away. "I don’t want your coin mam, no, no.”, he bowed gently and gestured for her to pass with a slow deliberate wave. Again, his cronies chuckled and parted as she stepped cautiously forward muttering insincere thanks. It was never this easy. Never. She stepped into the gateway pulling the oak staff protectively close.

The guards watched, their gaze like a leaden weight on her shoulders making her skin crawl. Her gut tied in knots. Every instinct told her to run as swiftly as she could but experience stayed her trembling legs. Instead, with practiced grace she strode away in measured elegant paces moving past those guards in the passage, careful to smile but not to meet their eye. Creatures like them prayed on nerves and she would not give them quarry. Passing the last of them she peeled her hand from her staff checking it over with a glance, a reminder that Power did terrible things in the wrong hands. The though weighed heavily on her so much so that she paused for a moment, feeling entirely fatigued.

“Actually-” came a familiar voice as a gloved hand perched gently but firmly on her shoulder. “There is a toll”, the menacing glint in his eye had grown and she gauged his meaning from the manner in which he bit his lower lip. Less than a vulture she thought! “A toll-”, he continued with a menacing smile, “for me and my guards”. He cast a glance over his shoulder to the rabble of elven guards, many of which now made obscene gestures dropping any pretence. She paused having been caught off-guard, in a moment of thought. He did not wait, his grip tightened and gap-tooth began to haul her back through the gateway into the city.

Cenda’s blood was racing, her mind a storm of insults. Those in the queue looked ashamedly away, those that looked on seemed as if they wished to help but Cenda knew they could not. Why must it always come to this! If only that gap-toothed brigand's greed had outweighed his lust. Cenda easily broke free of his grip with a sharp turn, much to the larger guard-captains surprise! Before he could retaliate, she fixed her hair while striding confidently forward forcing a wide smile and exaggerating the sway of her hips as she passed him. The other guards whistled and jostled eagerly to follow. They steered her towards the guard-tower, a barracks built into the gatehouse extending form the wall into the street.

Gap-tooth forced his way eagerly to the front next to Cenda, “Thumern and Durcel, on guard, manage the gate and get this lot through! The rest with me!”. He barked the order as he passed and two youthful elves slinked off with disappointment, begrudgingly leaving the throng following in her wake. Their downtrodden look enraged her but she masked it as best she could. Filthy beasts, they looked at her like a meal they couldn’t afford as they passed.

The captain led her into the guard-tower, through a fortified-oak door into a narrow corridor. One way in, one way out she noted passing several squalid rooms with narrow arrow-slit windows and grubby cot beds. The planked floor groaned and creaked under the weight of their passing. Plaster dust fell lazily from disturbed timber beams overhead. The captain whisked her suddenly into a chamber around half way down closing the door and leaving the eager rabble standing in the hallway.

Panicked, she still captured the rooms details in a single glance. Like the others it was small, cracked yellowing plaster made up the four walls. The narrow window was broken in places to let in more light. Where the other rooms had two stained cot-beds, this had one and in place of the other a simple desk scattered with papers and a dim low burning candle flooding it with wax. The cot was exceptional only in the squalid state which it was kept, stained filthy sheets and a trunk that sat off-centre at one end. The captain closed the heavy planked door and slid the bolt into place the grin vanishing from his face. The jokes being made were just audible she noted stepping back from the captain to buy just a second more.

The bolt clicking made her gut-wrench, she feigned composure putting up her hand to slow his advance, the other clutching the staff. He dropped his helm to the floor, the loud clang brought cheers from the hall and with it, any pretence of charm or gentle behaviour was gone. He rushed her, grabbing at her trying to tear her cloak from her shoulders! She resisted, so he tried to pry the staff form her hand, to throw it to the ground. The rest was a blur for Cenda, a smudge on her memories as the guard captain tried to overpower her and throw her to the bed as they wrestled.

“Come here you little-”. Wrenching the blade from her boot his throat was slit before the gap-toothed brute knew it was there, Cenda too dropped her act. The body slumped to the floor with a loud bang! Her hart froze in that moment, watching the door, waiting for the alarm to go up. “Livi guide me” she whispered softly. Instead, the cretins cheered again at the noise and continued their vulgar jokes. “Hurry up captain” joked one, “We all want a go” added another trying the handle. Cenda ignored them.

She had already moved to the table, snatching the papers and nurturing a growing flame with the candle. Then the bedding, in its disgusting state it took longer to catch than she would have liked but when it did, it burned fiercely. It smelled worse than his breath. Carefully she took the captains belt, the coin purses coming with it then, spitting on his twitching form for good measure and with a catlike grace, she slipped through the narrow window to the street outside.

Some in the long queue noticed her descend from the window but none spoke up. She walked the permitter of the building to the barracks entrance way checking over her staff and taking a moment to haul with her the grain-merchants cart. The guards were still making gestures, joking outside the room as the smoke began to spill out. She waited until they noticed her. Waited until their faces turned from lust to horror and only then, she slammed the reinforced door shut and secured the lock to the grain carts spokes using the captain's belt, taking those purses filled with coins. It would not hold them forever but with the smoke, it wouldn’t need to.

Wiping herself off, Cenda strode casually towards the gate hoping once again to pass unnoticed. One of the guards smiled at her, looking her up and down, “that was quick” he joked letting her pass with a malicious chuckle. She breathed a sigh of relief, cut short when in the corner of her eye she noticed realisation cross his face! Smoke erupted from the barracks accompanied by panicked pleas for help. His hand reaching for the blade at his hip. “Hey! you!” he cried stepping after her, turning swiftly and slipping low she planted the dagger in the underside of his jaw avoiding the helm, his blade never left its scabbard.

Cenda turned her attention the last remaining guard, slower than his companion he stood wide eyed in horror, the chaos of the moment too much for his mind. She wished his companion had been the same but this one had seen too much now. “You killed Drucel!” he whimpered in horror. Which makes you Thumern. He drew his blade and held it outstretched in shaky hands. Cenda stepped inside his guard dodged the clumsy blow and plunger her dagger between the bronze-scales of his cuirass, under the ribs and into his heart. Tears formed at the corners of his eye and he let out a wordless scream as he slumped slowly down the gateways wall. She withdrew her dagger and spit at him, she might regret that act later but right now, the bastard deserves it!

She stood in the archway, beneath the carved words of the Archon, flames and smoke erupting from the barrack, mingling with pained screams. There is a dragon here today! “There is no toll on the gate today!” she bellowed, addressing the concerned line of merchants and travellers caught between fleeing the street and their desire to leave the city. They did not move, even to aid the burning guards. The lack of discretion shown by the captain had lost them any sympathies from this lot. Cenda kicked Thumern’s corpse drawing some gasps and securing their attention, “Unless any of you wish to remain and explain to the guards what happened here?”.

They needed no further explanation, at once they rushed forward, swarming through the gateway, eager to be far away before authorities arrived. They fled eagerly as if they too were escaping the flames. They were in a sense she supposed, regarding the words etched above her. Fleeing dragon fire for surely the Archon’ wrath would fall on whoever was blamed for all this. The thought troubled her.

Cenda spotted someone at the barrack door struggling to free the guards. It was too late, the screams had ceased, still she drew her dagger once more. It was the peasant farmer struggling in vain to put out the fire which had spread to his grain cart from the burning door. She tossed him one of the fuller coin purses. He flinched at first, his eye had already swollen from where he struck the cobbles and it had begun to bruise. Tears trickled painfully over the wounds as he realised its contents, she was gone before he could thank her. Smoke spilled into the gateway obscuring the masses flooding through. Cenda joined them, grey cloak pulled tight, hood covering her face, staff clutched tightly about her. She checked it over once more then let herself be swept away in a sea of bodies, along with any trace of her presence here.

Power is a funny thing.