For Lord and Land

For Lord and Land
By: Delilah deSora
Part 3
Chapter 9

**

Happiness built on lies is as fragile as a house built upon the sand. One day the truth will wash away the false foundation and all you shall be left with is the tattered remains of a once sweet memory.
-Tamerin Llyr

**

“ . . . still lives?”

Sibley shivered, drawing his knees closer to his chest. Breath burned his tired lungs with cold. When he exhaled the air blew over his skin, far warmer than when it had gone in. He wished the annoying voice gone so that he could fall back into the pleasant half sleep where there was no pain in his head or ache of the body.

There was another speaking but he did not matter for there were no visions with this one, he meant nothing. The other however, the one with the voice that made him think of serpents and broad wings over flames, that one cut through the haze and demanded his attention.

They were speaking of him, he could hear their voices, hear the questions but he could not answer. Each breath required all of his attention.

There was a swirl of air against his bared back and he shivered again, clasping his legs as he tried to protect as much of his skin from the turbulent bit of air that threatened to cool his overheated skin. Words were directed at him and he tucked his head in his arms to escape from that voice.

There was a tsk of disgust and he relaxed, expecting the other to leave. It was not to be, however, and a hand closed about his arm. His world exploded in fire and vivid images. He screamed and lashed out at the other, feeling his bitten nails dig into giving flesh. The contact between them was suddenly gone and he dropped back to the ground. The shouts around him were nothing compared to the ones in his vision and he slipped into unconsciousness.

**

Errol woke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest as the tendrils of the nightmareeaseeased him. Fevered blue eyes were burned into his memory, as were the words. They made him uneasy and though he tried to chase the thoughts from his mind so he could return to sleep before he was needed for the next inspection sleep eluded him.

He hated trailing the Emperor down to the dungeons. It was not a place the man should be nor was Errol comfortable with his obsession with the man he had imprisoned. Though the scribe did not look physically threatening there was something about him that set the knight on edge. Though he would like to push his ramblings off as those of a madman’s he couldn’t. They simply rang too true.

He sighed and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. He heard his lover shift and glanced back apologetically.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Breven shook his head quickly, a small smile playing on his face. “It’s alright. I should get up as well. I need to do rounds and make sure everyone is at their posts before I go on duty.”

Errol laughed and kissed the brown haired man on the cheek. “Go back to sleep. It is still far too early for you to be up, the sun has not even risen yet.”

Breven frowned. “Then what are you doing up?” He protested.

With a sigh Errol shrugged. “There are things that weigh heavily on my mind.”

The guard sat up, his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What things?”

“It is not important,” Errol began to protest but his lover cut off his words.

“Damn it!” Breven growled, flinging the covers aside, “I know you all think I’m ill suited for my position but how am I to protect the Emperor if you damned knights won’t tell me anything? No wonder the world thinks us guard are just pretty puppets! You know how much I resent that, Errol!”

The sandy haired man sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think you’re ill suited to be captain of the guard, Breven. You’re not as self confident as you should be but never would I doubt your competence.”

“Then give me something to be confident about!” Breven urged, “The Emperor’s safety is my duty. If there is something that may compromise that I need to know about it. Our different departments are working towards the same thing yet ever have we acted like we’re competing. It is a stupid, juvenile thing that could cost the Empire dearly! Surely you see that?”

Errol shivered slightly at the reminder of what would happen should they fail to keep the Emperor safe. “Yes, I do see that. However this is not some solid bit of information, this is merely me being paranoid. Do you remember the man the Emperor had imprisoned?”

Breven nodded. “The one that snuck into his room, I remember.”

“You know that the Emperor . . . visits him.”

The dark haired man grimaced. “Yes.”

“He has said some things that put me on edge. I am sure they are just mad ramblings but . . . they make the soldier in me nervous.”

“What things?” Breven pushed.

Errol shrugged. “Things even I don’t understand. It doesn’t matter just . . . it would make me feel better if you were on your guard.” He finished with a wane smile.

Breven nodded. “I will keep an eye out.”

“Thanks.” Errol replied, pulling on his clothes. He slipped out into the silent hall and made his way to the Knight’s wing. He wanted his lover’s words to make him feel better but they just didn’t. One day he was sure Breven would be a fine Captain of the Guard but for now he was simply too young. He still thought himself invincible and the Emperor all knowing. He would eventually learn better but until then Errol feared that the Emperor would push him into allowing him to do something potentially fatal.

The Emperor was too cock-sure and Breven, as good as he was with those under his command, folded far too often under the slightest bit of pressure from his master. The Captain of the Guard needed to be able to stand up to him when the Emperor was about to put himself in a situation that was far too risky for him to be in.

Dorjan had known that when he had pushed to have Breven installed as the Captain of the Guard. It was a double-edged sword that Errol wasn’t entirely sure his superior knew how to handle. They had known Breven wouldn’t have been able to stand up to the Emperor when push came to shove but Dorjan had planned on using Breven’s youth to be able to control him and thus control the guard while staying close to the Emperor at the same time. It was a tactic the Knighthood had been using for ages to get around the enforced separation of the different parts of the army.

Unfortunately things had begun to unravel when the Emperor had ordered an oan out of his presence. Suddenly Errol had been forced to step into what had originally been his superior’s role and though Dorjan seemed to have faith in his ability to push Breven to dance the steps they wanted of him Errol lacked that faith.

Especially since he suspected that they would not be lovers for much longer.

Their ardor was cooling and it was becoming more of a chore to share each other’s bed than a pleasure. When they had started it had been an exciting diversion. Breven had been a simple guard who had been thrilled with the idea of sharing the future Lord General’s bed while Errol had enjoyed the fawning excitement of a man five years his junior. Times had changed, however, and technically now Breven was of a higher rank than he. The excitement had gone and he suspected that Breven’s annoyance at Dorjan’s constant prodding was also wearing thin.

Errol feared they would lose control of the Emperor’s Guard far sooner than Dorjan realized. Despite his worries Breven was beginning to build up his confidence. Already he had begun to replace certain guards within his ranks whose loyalty still seemed to be commanded by their now dead captain. Errol agreed with the decision for they could not afford to have anyone so close to the Emperor who had strong ties to the traitor Kaze. Unfortunately every person Breven replaced made his need of Dorjan to help control his own guards lessen.

Errol sighed and rubbed his temple. He wondered if life would get any easier when it became time for him to step up and take the rank of Lord General. Probably not but he could always hope. Straightening his shoulders he knocked at the door to Dorjan’s office, knowing the older man would be there. When the gruff command came he opened the door and prepared to give his report.

**

Dante sat on the stone bench, his eyes closed as a cacophony of birds argued for dominance of the garden around him. True, they were not the gaily-colored birds of his homeland but he found even the white and red birds that screamed so coarsely far more pleasant than the unnatural silence of his own rooms.

Opening his eyes he absently tossed a few bits of bread on the ground. After a moment the most daring of the flock dropped down onto the grass, eyeing him suspiciously as it crept closer. It did not carry the well-fed look of the birds in Aquilae but Dante knew it was unfair to make such comparisons. In his own land there was no end to the insects that made the swamps and ponds their home. If it had not been for the industrious birds no human could bear to live in Aquilae without being eaten alive or made ill by the disease bearing bugs.

They had long ago realized the importance of their feathered companions. Feeders had been created to lure certain types of birds to areas to keep their crops and homes free of insects and even now it was anathema to kill them for food or the use of their feathers. So long had the practice been in effect that even the smell of roasted fowl was repugnant to anyone carrying Aquilaen blood.

With a small smile Dante rose, earning a harsh scream from the birds at his feet and a flurry of feathers as they fled from him. The sun beat down on his face though it no longer carried the bite of the summer sun. Winter would arrive soon and he wondered if the winds would turn and bring Glacaen snow down upon them. He would like to see his little garden blanketed in snow.

He would ask to have boxes placed among the trees for the birds so that they would not have to abandon their little bit of good fortune and perhaps come spring the sound of chicks would help lift hisd. d.

Dante sighed as he pulled up the hem of his robe climclimbed the spiraled stairway. Melancholy weighed heavily upon and though Ardel’s gift helped give him an illusion of freedom he couldn’t help but recognize that it was indeed only an illusion. He could still no more leave the palace to go where he willed now then he could before the glass doors existed.

He passed into the coolness of his own room and returned to his desk. A haphazard pile of papers threatened to spill over onto the floor and he absently straightened them as he let his thoughts wander. Gently he picked up a glass stylus, the obsidian smooth between his fingers as he dipped it in the ink and set the tip to a blank sheet. A poem from his childhood formed beneath his hand as he transferred the burden of memories to paper.

With every passing day he found himself forgetting something that once he had taken for granted. He could no longer remember what pattern was on the carpet that rested in the entryway of his father’s house, even though he had walked over it a million times. Nor could he remember the name of the small boat his brother took him out on to teach him how to coax crabs from the bottom of the sea.

Small things but things he feared to forget nonetheless for he knew that it would not be long before he began to forget more important things.

For over a week now he had spent almost every hour he spent alone or not in the garden scribbling nonsense songs or half formed memories. He knew that it was not what he was supposed to have been writing but he did not care. The past was more important than creating a diary of his boredom riddled days.

The memory of a song of a merman and a sailor contemplating the fairer sex of their respective species came to him and dutifully he transferred the song to paper, only to pause at the end as the song elicited another half forgotten memory of he and Sibley stumbling over dunes turned black in the darkness of night.

He stood so quickly that the chair behind him tipped and fell to the floor but he did not care. Wrapping his arms about himself to ward off the sudden chill the memory brought with it he retreated to Ardel’s far warmer room. Atypically there was no fire burning in the hearth for Ardel had put it out when he had complained of the heat late in the night. Waking later than usual his lover hadn’t thought to rekindle it when he had fled from the rooms to try to make up for lost time.

Now, however, Dante found himself wishing it was still there. There were still a few bits of wood and a nearly complete log still in hearth and he knelt. Pulling his sleeves back to keep them from trailing in the ash he gathered the bits of wood, building them into a small pile in the center. Finished with that he began gathering larger bits of unburned paper and cloth, stuffing them between the logs to help the new flames catch.

He found a piece of parchment the size of his palm half buried among the ash and he made to stuff it in a gap when a bit of color caught his eye. Frowning he turned the bit of paper over. Half of a dragon sparkled up at him, the gold in the paint glittering in the light cast by the oil lamps behind him. Dante’s frown deepened as he stared at it for it seemed oddly familiar.

It was not unusual for Ardel to burn papers. It was the easiest way to dispose of mistakes made while creating new messages or requests. It was also the safest way to dispose of documents he did not wish others to see. However something about this particular bit of artistry prickled his memory. Carefully setting the dragon aside he began to dig through the ashes where he had found it.

His search turned up a few bits of actual writing before his hand touched something smooth and far more solid than the soft ash and soot that were blackening his hands. Curiously he grabbed for the object and lifted it away from the pit. Silver glinted in his hand as he brushed away the stubborn bits of ash that clung to it until a simple ring sat in the palm of his hand.

With a gasp he unconsciously he groped for the chain about his own neck. Pulling it free he breathed a sigh of relief when the silver ring the chain was threaded through proved to still be there. He ran his thumb over the scarred ring he had saved from the ash, symbols etched into the metal still detectable under the deep scratch that ran down the outside. A memory passed off as a dream came to him in that moment and he stood. He felt anger slowly building and he fisted the ring, whirling on his heel as he stormed towards the door.

**

Ardel had perfected the art of staring off into space while still managing to face the correct speaker as his advisors argued amongst themselves and tried to cnce nce him that their way was the only course of action. They had developed the knack of making even the smallest thing sound as though it might collapse the entire empire if he did not correct the error. Somehow he was not all that convinced that a decline in the shipment of a certain type of rare fish that barely produced a mouthful of edible meat would cause the Empire to fall to ruins. Perhaps a few society parties would be affected but that was not his concern.

There was a sudden cacophony of sound and everyone in the room fell silent, peering up at the ceiling above them. It was so unexpected that it took Ardel a few heartbeats to realize that it was the sound of rain pounding against the porcelain tiles of the roof. It was nearly deafening and he rose.

Ministers and others heads of office fled the room, undoubtedly to oversee their various departments in the face of this unexpected turn of weather. Folding his arms in his sleeves Ardel followed them. His fingers teased the half healed scratched on his arm. He bit back a growl. He’d sincerely hoped to return to find the scribe wilted away and dead. That he was still alive was an annoyance. He approached a small gathering about one of the many floor to ceiling windows that decorated the top floor of the palace and he joined them, letting the strange sight of water falling from the sky chase away the dark thoughts.

Water cascaded from the roof, creating a waterfall that was nearly impossible to see through. There were a few small breaks where statues or a designer arch blocked the flow of water and through it he could make out the heavy rains. Grey-blue storm clouds hung heavily over the city and Ardel glanced nervously at the tall peak in the distance. Shaking off the worry he moved away from the window.

His personal office was located on the second floor as were all of the various departments that needed to have a department head in the palace. He had half expected there to be messengers waiting for him and indeed there were quite a few lingering in the common room but they had been corralled by his chosen minister who gave himinuminute shrug to inform him that no disaster had occurred. Returning the shrug with a small nod he turned his attention to the two men waiting at the door to his office.

Talasi, the Minister of Lords had no reason for being there and Ardel ignored him, focusing instead on the Ventryn, the People’s Minister. He spoke with the man, giving him permission to delegate emergency duties to the parts of the homeland army assigned to Aidus. Talasi he sent off with an annoyed farewell and a sharp reprimand that should any of the noble estates require assistance Ventryn would allocate the appropriate help. He did not need to view the man’s face to know that such words were not what Talasi wished to hear.

Ardel ordered the door closed and shed the heavy vest of state. Servants snatched it away from him and he waved them off irritably. He ignored the ancient desk that stood firm under a deluge of scrolls and books and moved the curtained window that stood behind it. He pulled the heavily embroidered cloth away to watch the desert beyond turn into so much dirty water.

He heard the door behind him open and the sound of heels striking the stone interrupted the blessed silence of his office. He counted five steps before the sharp click turned to the hiss that signified his visitor had stepped up onto the carpet. Ardel glanced back, relieved to find only Kanoe, awaiting him. Breven stood just beyond the minister, hands folded as he watched them impassively.

“There is nothing?” He asked.

His chosen minister shook his head. “No, my lord. Just a few wet nobles who are angry at having their picnics ruined. Afterward though . . .” Kanoe’s voice dropped off into silence and Ardel returned his attention the downpour.

“It is a strange thing,” he murmured, “to start so soon.”

“It is indeed, my lord.”

He allowed the curtain to fall back to place and pulled the ornately carved chair out from behind the desk. Gathering his robes he sat and gestured for Kanoe to take his place at the other side. As the minister sat Breven also moved closer, going to stand in the shadows of one of the shelves of books that lined the walls. Both Ardel and Kanoe ignored him. When he had still been new to governing Ardel had found the action annoying only to discover that the constant fidgeting of a guard at the door proved to be even more distracting. He’d since learned that it was often best to just allow his guard to do whatever positioning they needed to calm their nerves.

He and Kanoe worked silently, their quills scratching at stiff parchment while the rain continued to fall. Ardel prepared the notices that would need to be sent as well as the generic acceptances for whatever aid was needed. These he gave to Kanoe to distribute as needed. A splitting pain in his temple halted his plans for catching up on the eternally overdue pile of scrolls requiring his signature.

He suddenly felt drained and it left him lethargic. Letting the parchment in his hand fall away he stood, murmuring a half formed farewell to the minister. He ignored those that tried to garner his attention as he moved through the halls, grateful for the relative peace of the stairway as he climbed to the third floor. So drained was he that he didn’t even notice when one of the guards broke away from his door and went to whisper to Breven.

There was a hissed reply but he ignored it, content to allow the captain of his guard deal with the problems in his own ranks. The guard at the door practically scurried out of his way as he entered his rooms. Breven stepped up behind him and Ardel slammed the door closed before the man could step through.

He was tired and it made him irritable. He no longer wanted someone shadowing his steps or fawning over him. At the moment all he wanted to do was wrap himself around a warm body and let the fire calm his aches. He focused his attention on the fireplace. A sliver of power coiled within his chest and he released it. It lashed through him and he gasped slightly as it left him and the fireplace sparked, a small flame licking over the half burnt wood.

Smiling to himself he unlatched the robes and let them fall to the floor, uncaring of the gems and expensive fabric as it pooled at his feet. He kicked off the heeled shoes that pinched his feet and tiptoed over the cool stone floor. His pants and shirt still held warmth from his body and it was enough to let him dare the other room without finding something heavier to wear to ward against the chill the sudden rains brought with them.

His attention was caught by the fact that the sound of the pouring rain practically echoed through the room. Looking up from the floor he realized why his room seemed damper than his office. At the far end of the room the door to the balcony stood wide open. Wrapping his arms about himself he shook his head, amusement making the corners of his lips lift in a wry smile.

The room was dark for the heavy clouds blocked the sun but Ardel could make out a form on the bed. Changing his path he moved towards the sleeping figure. Laughing softly he sat on the edge and reached out to touch the sleeping man.

The moment his fingers touched warm flesh blue eyes opened and a scream echoed through the room as the man arched. Ardel scrambled back in surprise, a few long strands of black hair catching in the bracelet he wore as he did. As soon as the contact between them was broken the man calmed, falling back to lie ly aly among the cerulean sheets.

Surprise began to give way to rage and Ardel’s hands fisted as he stared at the gaunt scribe. He felt the sliver of power within him coil, its flames flickering against his consciousness. His hand came up to drag the other man from his lover’s bed when something ephemeral but no less powerful slammed into him, driving him back a few steps as he gasped for breath.

Dante stood framed in the glass doorway, his hair and clothes soaked from the rain but it strangely did not make him look ridiculous as such a thing made most men. He no longer wore the blue and gold robe though Ardel could not make out the color of the clothes he wore now for the water made them dark.

Glancing quickly at the bed Ardel opened his mouth, he knew not what to say but the urge to say something drove him relentlessly.

Before he could utter a word, however, the Leviathan strode forward and Ardel shrank back. Blue eyes were hard and narrowed in anger. Each step seemed to bring with it all the power of the waves pounding down upon the sand.

“I will hear not a word from you!” Dante hissed.

Ardel snapped his mouth shut and looked away, unsure of what else to do. He cried out in surprise as his arm was caught in an iron grip and he was dragged bodily backwards. The Leviathan’s power beat against his own and he felt the Dragon’s rage strike out in retaliation. Dante practically tossed him back into his ooom oom and he stared up at the other man.

“Stay out of my realm.” The black haired man growled, turning to leave.

Ardel stood. “It is mine,” he hissed, “All of it . . . all of you are mine!” He shouted taking a step forward.

Sharp pain cut through the dragon’s rage, destroying it utterly as he fell under the strength of the slap his lover delivered. Ardel fell to the floor, his eyes wide in shock. The pain returned a second later as he brought up a hand to touch his lip. His fingers came away bloody and he turned to stare up at Dante.

There was not an ounce of remorse in the angry eyes as the man stared down at him. Large hands were fisted and Ardel drew his legs under him in an unconscious movement to crawl away.

“No,” Dante stated, “we are not yours. We belong to no one.”

He turned away again and Ardel reached out, catching the hem of his long sleeveless robe. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, “I need you.”

The black haired man paused a moment before whirling on his heel. Ardel’s cry as he was lifted harshly and flung upon the bed was muffled as his faas pas pressed against the thick blankets. He tried to push himself up but a hand clamped about the back of his neck and pinned him down. He cried out as his pants were torn down, the fabric biting into his flesh and scratching as it was forced past his hips.

Pain ran like fire up his spine as he was taken and he was beyond even the ability to scream as his body was used without any preparation. It was over soon as his body was forced to take pleasure in the act and his weary flesh complied with the harsh tugs it received. As soon as it took hold and he shuddered in the first flush of completion Dante released him, pushing away from the bed as though dstedsted.

Ardel watched through tear stained lashes as Dante straightened his clothes and met his gaze. He bowed stiffly. “My duty to you is done, my lord.”

With those hateful words he whirled and disappeared in an angry flicker of blue cloth.

Ardel slide to the floor and he collapsed within himself, crying until his eyes were as empty as the rest of him.

**

-End Part 3-
To be continued in Part 4: For Love

**

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! If you want updates faster you can try going to my website at www.angelfire.com/dragon/delilah/fiction.html since I update there more often than I update here (in fact I regularly forget I even have fics up on here *sweatdrops*. There\'s also a mailing list on yahoo groups under the name delilahs_fiction (there\'s a link to it on my page) if you would like to have chapters sent to you as I finish them.

Also I love e-mail and you can reach me at pagan_nyght@yahoo.com if you would like to review (and get an e-mail back from me).

-Delilah-