Hallek

Death and blood were here, and Verris's horn was blowing.

Downwind didn't have much to steal. Its main export was aged manure and its people had next to nothing in the way of valuables. The city guard patrolled at night between the adobe huts the workers lived in to discourage any human crime. So the thefts Downwind feared weren't human.

Downwind feared for the calves.

The minmi were what made Downwind move. The sturdy dinosaurs hauled the loads from the piles and pulled the carts through the city. But in the calving season they were vulnerable, and the palm forest teamed with predators.

As dinosaurs go eoraptors were fairly boring. Three or four feet long, two legs, small arms, oval head with a mouth full of needle sharp teeth. But a pack could slip into a barn and run off with a squealing minmi calf in seconds. That's what the guards were for.

The calving season was almost over and the last batch of calves was almost ready to wean. If the eoraptors wanted an easy meal this was going to be their last chance. Hallek's job, along with the other guards, was to make it less easy. Clever enough to know this, the eoraptors had come in force.

The vicious little dinosaurs poured out of the trees, dozens of them hissing and snarling. The guards ran to the sound of Verris's emergency horn with swords ready, hacking and slashing into the predators. Eoraptors weren't known for bravery, so even swinging a sword close without leaving a wound would usually make them dart away. But just like with humans bravery grew with numbers, so while a pack of three or four might have retreated from a few jabs and swings the pack of dozens kept circling back.

Hallek and the other guards had realized intimidation wasn't going to work. They slashed to kill, or at least draw blood. An eoraptor wasn't about to die for a taste of minmi calf. Hallek's sword found flesh with every swing, sending wounded dinosaurs scampering for the back with frightened squeals. It looked like they were breaking through when a terrified honking sound echoed across the skirmish.

“They've got a calf!” Someone shouted.

A lone eoraptor carried a freshly hatched calf clutched to its chest. It was having trouble with the weight, but it was still faster than a human could be as it disappeared into the trees. The rest of the pack shrieked and vanished with it into the foliage.

“Damnit!” one of the guards cursed, kicking the ground. Hallek was already rushing after it into the trees, with Verris right beside him. Normally following an eoraptor on its home ground would be impossible but weighed down by the calf it left a wide trail the two of them could easily follow. They stopped just outside a clearing where the eoraptors had gathered.

“Is it dead?” Verris asked, peeking through the trees.

“They're fighting over the infant,” Hallek said. “Look. That big pack must have been desperate to get together like that. Probably betas and omegas chased out of other packs.”

The eoraptors were hissing and clawing at each other. The wounded had all either been killed or chased off, so now the ones that stayed out of the righting were bickering over the spoils. At their feet the minmi calf wailed helplessly.

“Probably a fat bonus if we get the calf back,” Verris said. “But if we go in there now they'll all turn on us at once. And that's still a lot of eoraptors.”

“Maybe if we waited till they cut their numbers down?” Hallek said. “But no, it's almost dark. If we wait that long who knows what all this blood will attract.”

“I have an idea,” Verris said. Before Hallek could ask what it was the pommel of Verris's sword struck him in the temple. Reeling from the blow, he was thrown out into the clearing.

You bastard! He had time to think, before the eoraptors were on him, Hissing teeth full of needles and claws, the alley floor hard underneath him...

No. No that's a memory, that's not now. That's before I came to Downwind.

No!

“GET THE HELLS OFF ME!” Hallek roared, leaping to his feet and laying around him with his sword. He wasn't aiming, he could barely see through the blood and rage, but he felt the blade catch flesh more than once. When his vision cleared the eoraptors were scampering off into the trees. There was no sign of Verris or the calf, but a deep feminine laughter wafted over the clearing.

“Oh good!” the woman in the tree said. “Very, very good! I can see why they picked you.”

She couldn't have always been there. Hallek was sure he would have noticed her. Yes he'd been more focused on the eoraptors (and why hadn't they been bothering her?) but she was wearing a dress of silver and gold threads woven into an intricate pattern, with gemstones across her chest and shoulders. Feathers erupted from her back and the golden jeweled circlet she wore, not to mention all the gems tied into her hair. It was black, but in the light it almost looked blue.

It couldn't be blue, could it?

“Who are you?” Hallek demanded, glaring at her.

“Ooo fierce!” She giggled. “Don't you recognize me? No, I suppose you wouldn't. I kind of wish you were mine. Of course we'd have to do something about the outfit.”

Another time Hallek might have flirted. Might have said “I could still be yours” or maybe “if you don't like my clothes I'll take them off,” something like that. But he'd just been set upon by eoraptors and betrayed by—well by an enemy, honestly, so possibly he only had himself to blame on that one. Still he was in no mood.

“Whoever you are, and whatever you're doing up there, did you see where that bastard Verris went?”

“Right back to the city,” the woman said. “Carrying the calf. He took the time to spit on you before he ran though.”

Of course.

“Right,” Hallek said, turning back towards the city, but he paused. “Hey listen, it's really not safe out here at night.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“That's adorable,” she gave him an amused smile. “I'll be fine. I'll be sending mine along to meet you in a while. You'll need her.”

He wanted to say more but there was something about the amusement sparkling in her eyes that stopped him. He turned away and headed back towards the city. When he crossed the treeline Old Mungo and Verris were talking with the foreman. The foremen in Downwind wore orange clothes and matching wide brimmed hats, with a whip tucked into the thick leather belt around their waist. People in Downwind weren't slaves, but no one the piles had much sympathy for a shirker. Targeting Verris in his leather kilt was easy. Hallek took a moment of joy in the shocked look on Verris's face right before he put his fist into it. Verris squealed as he went down, clutching a bloody lip.

“That's for leaving me,” Hallek snapped.

“Hold on hold on,” the foreman said. “I take it you're Hallek? Verris was just telling us how you fell behind.”

“Is that all that happened son?” Old Mung asked. Hallek looked at Verris on the ground. Even in Downwind, murder was murder. He might be able to wriggle out of it, but it wouldn't be easy. Or pleasant. The urge to sell Verris out passed quickly.

“Sort of,” he said. “I stopped for a moment to hold off the eoraptors, and he tripped me with his big stupid feet when he turned to run.”

A look of relief and confusion washed over Verris's face. He'd have sold Hallek out in a heartbeat. Which in the end was kind of why Hallek hadn't.

“If you're sure,” Old Mungo said.

“Well sounds like it was all a misunderstanding!” the foreman laughed. He was a fat man with a wrinkled face, not one Hallek knew. But he had the air of a man who wanted to go about his life with the least possible trouble, and a fight between the diggers would have been trouble. He dug into his belt and produced a battered cloth purse from which he poured two handfuls of coins.

“I'll do the paperwork later,” the foreman said. “For now, guard shift's over and you two young people have earned a bonus for bringing the calf back safe. A job well done! Enjoy the rest of your night!”

He handed each of them a small fistful of coins and walked off in a haze of oblivious accomplishment. Old Mungo stayed behind.

“What really happened out there?” the old digger asked, looking between them. Hallek and Verris glared at each other.

“Nothing,” Hallek said. “I'm going to the arena.”

“And I have someplace to be,” Verris said.

The two of them walked off towards the city.

Dalluth

The god's answered my prayer, Dalluth thought as he stood over the dying infant.

With the sun swinging down behind the western mountains Dalluth had closed the shop and gone looking for materials. Not the old bone and preserved blood they had in the shop, something special. Something worthy of his masterwork. He'd even settle for an eoraptor if he could find one just something...special.

And the gods led him to it. They must have. He found trees smashed, broken apart, torn right out of the ground. A trail of destruction like he'd never seen in the forest. The noise must have been incredible but the palm forest sometimes caused strange echoes that must have taken the sound away from the village. A voice in his mind warned Dalluth that something large enough to rip open trees was large enough to crush him like a bug but before he could listen to it he heard the infant crying.

Until it cried and shifted Dalluth thought it was a log covered in leaves and branches from the destruction. The eight foot long child whined pitifully through teeth like butcher's tools. Something had torn out its throat, blood seeping out onto the forest floor, drying a black crust around the roots and foliage.

I have to save some of it.

Dalluth emptied his water bag and held it under the seeping wound, catching the blood until the bag was full as the infant's movements slowed and stopped. The infant was dead by the time he stoppered the water skin and ran back to the shop. He hung the bag of blood on a peg and scooped up some rope and pieces of leather. Back at the corpse he built a makeshift sled around it and dragged it back into town.

The infant was heavy, and he was trying to avoid leaving a trail of blood. He was trying to avoid the villagers too, let them be amazed when he showed them his masterwork and not dithering about the corpse he'd brought in now. Finally he hauled the body into the workshop and slammed the doors closed. He threw all the tools off the shops biggest table and rolled the infant's corpse up onto it. Now all he had to do was butcher it.

First he had trouble with the saw. The infant's hide was too thick for any weaker cutting tool to work, but when he placed it against the flesh it squirmed and shook in his hand, the eoraptor that had given its essence and jaw bone to make the saw recoiling in fear from the corpse. Dalluth grit his teeth and forced it still, gnawing through the infant's belly to cut a slit from groin to ribcage. A blood soaked mass of intestines spurted out from the cut, slapping wetly into his stomach and wrapping around him like some sea beasts slimy tentacles. One struck him across the mouth, the weight of them crushing him to the floor. He floundered in the heavy tripes until he dragged himself out of the guts to stand, covered in slime and blood, the infant's digestive tract still spooling onto the floor.

“Alright,” Dalluth said, still panting as the slime dripped down his face. “First cut made.”

Angelar

Take a step back now, and look at the city.

Like most great cities it lies across a river. The river cuts through the palm forest, into the city, and out onto the planes, the city straddling the divide. Even when Baulra puts his sun to rest for the day the river teems with boats and barges coming to and fro. Huge paved roads spread out from it, worming their way through the buildings and slipping through the city walls, arteries connecting the heart of Angelar's empire to the body. The buildings themselves are old stone, blocky square things covered in murals depicting battle and heroes. Most of them have moss growing on them, ancient and seeped into every crack. Three buildings stand out from the rest. Yes, the temple of Maia is gleaming white, the theater is a golden dome, and the arena is an enormous circle of fire and lights, but these still look...secondary. Leaves on a tree, where the buildings in question are the roots. Not built in the city, the city was built around them.

The last remnants of the days when Angelar was just another outpost of Lost Pangaea.

Outside the city, nestled in the palm forest and connected by no easily visible road, is a huge black pyramid with sharp angles and smooth sides. This is Balrok Prison, and the less said about it now the better. People don't talk about it much, except in threats and whispers. At the north end of the city, nestled among the sprawling estates of the nobles and most wealthy, is another pyramid with stepped sides covered in statues and murals and leaves of gold and silver between the moss covered rock. The Imperial Palace where, for better or worse, the empire was run. A road wider and longer than any other in the city runs from the palace to the third building, a half ring of towering columns with two statues nestled within. The Shrine of the Brothers, ancient temple of Huma and Saurus.

Gongs ring out across the city, as they do every night at sunset. The Procession is an everyday event, but an event all the same. The Imperial Way was built for this and as crowds line the street the five Imperial Brachiosaurs make their way from their pen behind the palace and into the light. They wear thin brass armor, ceremonial, a crested helmet above their shovel-like snouts connected to a row of plates down to where their long necks meet their body. It gleams against their pebble gray skin in the dwindling sunlight. On each of their backs is a howdah, four of them filled with dignitaries and favorite subjects and drummers pounding out a steady march.

On the back of the fifth, in the center, rides Lekarik nyth Gargarand iil Tyrannosaurus the 4th. He wears a billowing cloak of red and blue. The imperial banner, a roaring tyrannosaur within a pyramid under a double bladed Axe, hangs from poles at the corners of his howdah. Over his face he wears a golden mask studded with emeralds. Across his lap rests Milkaamek's Ax, the bone of Dakkareg the Great Calamity himself. Legend said the emperor had slain the vicious tyrannosaurus in single combat, with a metal Axe, and with the weapon he carved from Dakkareg's bones he then carved out the empire from a thousand warring tribes and villages.

When his descendant arrives at the Temple of the Brothers the music stops, and the brachiosaur lowers its head. The emperor walks down the armor to the shrine, and kneels in prayer. That done he ascends his mount again. The brachiosaurs wheel in perfect precision and march back towards the temple. The crowds disperse.

The story continues.