The year of The Great Disaster
City of South Harbor
“Greatest Grandmother, we have done as you have asked. The caves beneath the city have been cleared and entrances have been made. Do you know what exactly will happen?” The young man who spoke was of good build and had the look of a man you could trust to do what needed to be done.
“You know, you look just like him. Those few of us who are still around to remember him all agree that you are like him, too, and I think he would be proud of you, Dalton,” she said. Although she appeared to be in her middle years, her hair was still as red as it had ever been. She was proud of that fact. Alexander had always loved it. He had said he loved everything about her, but she knew that he had been especially fond of her hair.
She still was not used to aging as rapidly as she did now. Dragons could live seemingly forever if circumstances allowed, and though she had been in human form for seven hundred and fifty years, she still felt the effects of aging. That had been the exchange: their near immortality for fertility and the ability to reproduce with the other species without leaving too much of an outward mark of their draconic heritage.
If she or any of the others had the choice to make again, she knew they wouldn’t choose differently. She’d had fifty-seven glorious years with a man she truly loved, and though she’d had to watch him age and die, he had given her ten lovely children over those years—six girls and four boys, each of whom had married, had children, and died. There had been losses over the years, but her family was still large, and most of them were high in the ranks of the military and amongst the mages.
The Council of Nine, which was now really only seven, still met regularly and held fast despite their reduction in number. It was no longer any secret that the people who had come to Terroval seven hundred and fifty years ago were not normal, but only select members of the families knew the truth. She could feel the approaching darkness. She knew that the time of change was once again upon the people of South Harbor. The dragons had always held the position of watchers over the world, and they still fulfilled that role to the best of their ability, even thought it was much more difficult now.
Five generations ago, one of her grandchildren had married a noble by the name of Theromvore. Since then, that had been the dominant branch of the family. In respect to the much smaller branch of the family that still carried the name Dalton, Tyrdra had asked her favorite granddaughter to name her next son after their progenitor. By fate, luck, or a cruel sense of humor, Dalton Alexander Theromvore was the spitting image of his namesake. And that, if nothing else, gave her hope for the Protectorate’s future.
“The approaching darkness is not a natural cycle of events. Something is guiding these events, and they are beyond even our sight. The council and those remaining members of the newcomers will face this battle in full. Remember, if any survive, you are not to tell your children of their heritage. If there are some strong enough in the blood to remember on their own, that cannot be helped, and they should remember enough to keep it to themselves.
“There are many different peoples in South Harbor now. The giants who have joined us will help you with the rebuilding, if such is even possible. When the time comes, you must lead those who will follow down into the caverns and not come out for three years. Fresh water flows through the lower tunnels, and we have put a large cistern down there that should be able to last for some time if that gets contaminated. Have the livestock been moved down yet?”
The young man nodded and then frowned at the woman he respected more than anyone else in the world. She had been his mother when his had died after his birth, his teacher who had prepared him for what he would face in the world. She had instilled in him a belief in the defense of himself, those under his command, and those in need. In substance, she was the most remarkable person he had ever met, and the loss of her would be a detriment to them all.
“I still don’t understand why you cannot come with us,” he said. “The people will need a guiding hand. We cannot afford to lose you.”
“Dalton, I have taught you all that I know. You are as good a leader as my husband was, if not better. If anyone can guide our people through this disaster, it will be you and our family. You must promise me one thing, however. You must never change the face of the Protectorate. The branches must remain separate, or there will be no chance of success in the future.” She placed her hand on his face and kissed him on the forehead. “You know what must be done. I can tell you this much and no more.”
The man nodded again, kissing her twice—one kiss for the hand of his mentor and the second for the forehead of his grandmother. “I know there is more to this than you can tell me, and I understand the wisdom of the Council, but why must we keep our heritage from our children?”
“There will come a time, many generations from now, when the blood of our line will mingle seamlessly with the blood of another. A child born from such a union could be of immense importance, and not only to our world. History teaches us that a strong heritage and self-identity allows a civilization to stay strong for a time, yet if they are too strongly rooted in their own history and importance, they will begin to atrophy as the world around them moves on without them.
“We believe that once the Protectorate has advanced to be on equal or greater footing than the Dracair, there will be a divide amongst its various factions, and many will leave to create their own cities. Some will fail, but those who succeed will become stronger for it. If that separation does not occur when it should, we believe it will take eons to be born. By then, it will be too late for our world to save itself. Those of us who underwent the transformation are the only ones capable of striking the blow that will give the Protectorate the best possible odds of that separation occurring.”
“It shall be done as you have asked,” the young man said before he turned and walked out of the room, holding the image of what he knew would be the last time he would ever see his grandmother. Goodbye, Grandmother. Goodbye, Tyrdra.
The Lion’s Heart Tavern
“Of course, we may never know with certainty what drove those people to the caves underneath the city that day. Those of us who have enough wits believe that the newcomers truly were dragonkind and that they had been gifted with a foretelling. I believe they realized that it was the only way to keep the men and women of the Protectorate alive, and maybe a bit of their own blood with it. Whatever the case may be, it saved some two hundred thousand of the nearly one million people who lived in the town of South Harbor.”
“The storms that raged across the face of Terrazil were only shadows of the tempest that raged on the continent of Terroval; it quickly became obvious to the rest of the world where the storms were emanating from. A messenger came to all the lords of the land, telling them to keep as many of their people as they could in a safe place and wait until the storms had abated. The message also said that the problem in the land of Terroval was being taken care of.”
The bard walked back to the bar to put down his empty mug before returning to the center of the room. He had clearly enthralled all of the room and was not going to let them go until he had finished. “No one knows for sure what happened in the year that the storms raged, but rumors came out of Terroval some years later that there had been a strategic strike against the darkness that had gripped the land. It was said that newcomers themselves led the charge against the forces that wished the Protectorate’s destruction. Of course, that would mean that some of them were upwards of eight hundred years old at the time.”
No one in the room laughed at that. After hearing this story, it seemed to them that it might have been the newcomers leading the charge.
Good. It is time that the people of these lands come to realize the truth of things. The bard continued, “All of that devastation put the civilized world back a thousand years. Most of what had been built was lost, and more than a few of the people who knew the secrets of metallurgy and Shaping were lost in the storms.
“The tempests abated in the third month of the year that would become known as The Rebirth. The peoples of the civilized world were able to come together to re-create their kingdoms. It was a slow, tedious process, but order reasserted itself after a few hundred years, and civilization was reborn from the ashes of destruction.
“But alas, the land of Terroval was a completely different story. Dalton Theromvore had kept his people below ground for three years, though no one fully understood why he waited so long. There were times when the earth would shake, and the people were sure that the land above would collapse upon them. There were relatively few losses, however, and the people respected Dalton enough to listen to his advice.”
Year 3 AGD
Ruins of South Harbor
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“How could this have happened, Leodric?”
“I am not certain, my lord. It could be that the continent shifted, or that the poles became colder and absorbed more moisture, dropping the level of the ocean. It could be a mixture of both. It is an amazing phenomenon, though, my lord.”
“Please don’t call me that. I work for a living,” Dalton said while studying the landscape in front of him.
“Yes, of course, my lord,” Leodric said. Dalton sighed.
“Well, it seems to me that this is a perfect military structure for rebuilding. I guess I don’t need to know how it happened—just what we can do with it. A three-hundred-foot cliff where there used to be a beach. Two walls of solid rock at least a hundred feet tall, jutting into the sea, creating a near half circle with a break in the middle just large enough for any ship to pass through”—Dalton shrugged—“it seems a bit convenient to me.”
“Yes, my lord, it does seem rather odd. But I have always found it wise not to question a gift from the gods. Perhaps it is Cypheria, goddess of protection, who is shielding us in her arms. Whatever the cause, m’lord, you are correct about it being a highly defensible position. If I am correct, that water going into the sea from the wall down there is the same water that has sustained us these last few years. If that is the case, we should be able to create pathways up from the beach into the city.”
“Brilliant, Leodric! I was just trying to puzzle out how to get goods in, but that will work. We can get some of the giants and dwarves to punch a few holes in the wall to create paths, and we can build warehouses and other buildings in the stretch of land below, assuming they aren’t underwater during parts of the year.”
Leodric had brightened at the ideas of his lord and only slightly grimaced at the last part. “Yes, of course we will have to make sure of that before any real building below can occur, but that must come last, anyway. We have an entire city to rebuild first.”
Both men turned around to survey the area that used to hold the city of South Harbor.
“I cannot believe this level of devastation,” Dalton said. “If you didn’t know that a city had been here, it would be hard to convince anyone that those piles of rocks are where a palace stood and that crescent of rubble there was once a great wall that no enemy had ever penetrated.” He wanted to weep for the loss of so many of his people, for surely those who had not come below had perished, and he did not expect to hear from any of the newcomers again. Suddenly, he shielded his eyes and pointed off to the horizon. “Are those mountains?”
Squinting to see through the glaring sun, Leodric nodded at Dalton’s assessment. “It seems that our whole world has changed, m’lord, and all we can do is try to adjust.”
It was Dalton’s turn to nod. He looked through his soldiers, who were milling about amongst the rubble, until he found a familiar face. “Lieutenant,” he called to the fair-haired young man who was sifting through a pile of rocks nearby. The man snapped up, running over as fast as he could.
“Yes, m’lord?” the man asked, executing a rigid salute.
Dalton could not quite keep the growl out of his voice when he said, “Go below and tell the rest that it seems safe to come out now and bring Lieutenant Commander Windsbane to me. Tetriarch Skyhammer and I have many things we need to plan, and she’ll want to be included, as well.”
The two men walked around the rubble, trying to find any sign of survivors, but mainly enjoying the crisp open air. One did not realize just how stuffy cave air was until he came out into the open again. Soon, a buxomly, beautiful young woman silently joined them on their walk. Of course, any man who openly referred to her as such would probably find himself in a duel with one of the best swordsmen in the Protectorate.
Marisa Windsbane’s hair was a light, strawberry blond that came from one of Dalton’s uncles; she’d gotten the curves from her mother. Luckily for her, her father was one of the top fighters among the knights and her mother was the best dancer on the continent. She was grace and deadliness all rolled into one lovely package. She was also one of the most tactically sound people Dalton had under his command.
“You asked for me, m’lord?” she said, saluting with fist to heart.
“Why does everyone keep calling me that?” He returned the salute. “What ever happened to just plain sir?”
Marisa exchanged a glance with Leodric, her face broadening into a smile. “You haven’t told him yet, have you?”
“Told me what?”
“I didn’t think it necessary quite yet, Marisa,” Leodric said blithely, putting on a smile of his own.
“Didn’t think what was necessary?”
“Well, he has to learn of it sooner or later. It might as well be from us.” Marisa could barely contain her laughter.
“Learn what?”
“True, but should you tell him, or should I?” Leodric said, trying to pretend that Dalton wasn’t right next to him.
“Tell me what, damn it?”
“Oh, well, you are the tetriarch of the sorcerers, Leodric. I think it is your job.” Marisa barely retained an air of sobriety.
“Hello, I’m right here,” Dalton said, waving his arms in front of the two impatiently as his voice grew cold. “Do not ignore me.”
“True. I’m afraid, though, that if one of us doesn’t tell him soon, he’s going to pop a blood vessel in his head. Maybe you should do the honor, High Commander Windsbane.”
“High Commander…” Dalton choked, feeling as if he had been slapped. “Has there been a coup I wasn’t told about?”
“He always has been overly dramatic, hasn’t he?” she said to Leodric before turning to face Dalton. “As you know, Uncle Reginald died last Eighthday, and since he didn’t have any heirs, it was up to the council to decide who in the royal house would assume the throne.”
“Where are you going with this? I’m not a royal.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, m’lord,” Leodric said. “You see, your mother’s uncle, son of Liam and Lori, was Prince Tergis before he died unexpectedly in a raid. He would have assumed the throne had he not died, but instead, his younger sibling, Prince Reginald, son of Liam and Sylia, inherited it.”
Dalton stood in front of the two, glaring. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” He eyed them both equally. “What if I refuse?”
“On the contrary, m’lord,” Leodric said quickly, “most of the royal family brought it to our attention that you were a member of the family. We simply agreed that you were the proper choice for the throne, and as for you refusing…” The tetriarch breathed deeply. “You can’t.”
Leodric and Marisa nodded to each other and then turned to kneel before Dalton, who scowled.
“My lord, the knights stand ready and are at your disposal,” Marisa said before taking his hand and kissing it. “We shall protect your life and the lives of your subjects to the last.”
They had pulled straws to see who would go first. Marisa had drawn longest, but Leodric didn’t mean to be outdone simply because he was last. “My lord, being as there is no arch magus currently, the duty has fallen to me to assure you that the mages stand ready and are at your disposal. Our magic will Shape mountains at your command or lay waste to the enemies of the Protectorate. The mages can think of no one else they would rather call king, and we do so proudly.”
“Your Majesty, we are at your command,” they both managed to say together before Dalton turned around and walked in the other direction, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath.
The two still on their knees smiled at each other. They knew he would do it. It was his duty. And they both knew that he would be a great king because he did not want to be king at all.
The Lion’s Heart Tavern
“And so, Dalton Alexander Theromvore became the king of the survivors of the Protectorate. During his reign over the next fifty years, the city was rebuilt. A new wall was constructed by the combined might of the dwarven and giant artisans and reinforced by the power of the mages. It was built to encompass a city twice the size of what South Harbor had been before The Great Disaster. The giants chiseled away at the rock wall that now protected the harbor, making it flat enough so that no man or beast could scale its surface. While the wall was being Shaped by skillful hands, the mages used their arts to strengthen it against a more subtle enemy: nature herself.
“What to call the city was a topic of discussion amongst the people, and they were divided on the subject. Some wanted it to remain South Harbor, but most thought it should be given a new name. On his deathbed, Dalton turned to his old friends, Arch Magus Leodric Skyhammer and High Commander Marisa Windsbane, telling them to guard the city well so as to keep it the safe harbor that it had become. He then told his son to rule well before he slid quietly into Thom’s cold embrace. His last words were spread throughout the city, and the people agreed as one that the city would be called Safeharbor.”
The old bard held up his hand to hold off question or comment. “Ah, but that is not the end of the story.
“Three hundred years later,” he continued, “there was a rift betwixt the races of the Protectorate. It still isn’t understood why, but the elves decided to head north and form their own kingdom without the ‘influence of the lesser races.’ The dwarves decided shortly thereafter that they had enjoyed their time below the earth and moved away to the mountains to work within them, where the minerals for their crafts were in abundance. The giants slowly trickled out, heading northeast.
"Members of every race had stayed behind, but at the end of the split, there were only about a hundred thousand people left in the city. Much later, it was discovered that some of the original inhabitants of South Harbor had survived the storms by moving inland. In the solace of the desert, they had found a safe haven in the form of a giant oasis. Contact later resumed between the separate groups, but by then, the family lines had evaporated, and any familial ties were only recognized within the city-states that formed out of the split. That has been the case ever since. The creatures of Terroval eventually returned in numbers large enough to wreak havoc amongst the people of the land, and the struggle for survival had, once again, returned to the continent of Terroval.”
There were many somber faces in that room. Slowly, people started saying that it was late, that they should be getting home. Each one of them said his goodbye to the old bard who had opened their eyes to another world. It took the most effort to get the young boy to stop asking questions. Finally, the only people in the bar were the bard, the bartender, and the cloaked figure. The bard, knowing that the shadowed man had listened to his story with at least a bit of interest, decided to go over to see what the man had thought of it.
“Excuse me, but may I sit here?” He asked the question cautiously and moved to the chair at the opposite end of the man’s table when he nodded. “Tell me… what do you think about what you heard tonight?”
The throaty laugh that came from within the cloak was surprisingly high in pitch to the bard’s ears. When the figure pulled back the hood, he had to struggle to keep his mouth closed.
The woman in front of him was strikingly beautiful, even though she appeared to be in the later years of her life. Her hair was a vibrant red, and her eyes reminded him of the open sea.
“I think that you, yourself, are a man from Terroval. No one on this continent has heard that story so thoroughly before. I also think that you can drop your disguise. I know you are not an old man.”
The old bard looked at her cautiously before whispering only one word. “Tyrdra?”
When she nodded, he had to remind himself to take a breath. As he exhaled, he let the magic woven around him fall, leaving a man in his prime with dark hair and a striking figure, but that wasn’t what stood out. His eyes were those that a snake might have and aqua in color.
“That is better, Nim. Now, the Watchers have work for you back at home. The child will be born shortly, and you shall be one of his teachers.”
He could only nod, dumbfounded, while she continued to instruct him.