The Withered Land: Dragons and Marauders

Dragons and Marauders, Part Fifty-Three

Recognizing their plight as an opportunity he could exploit, Kolag Y'phree had entrusted them with the guardianship of Niyaddour's subterranean realm.

The city had always been, since its very inception, a fortress. No matter what sociopolitical administration, religious order or military regime had taken control over the resources and the populace inside The City's battlements, Niyaddour had never evolved far from its roots as an armed citadel. It had barracks and armories within its walls to provide shelter and armaments for the soldiers protecting the food, mercantile goods, precious gems, rare minerals and the informational secrets of its rulers. As such, it was a place dedicated to developing and expanding upon the conceptual strategies and technologies of protective physical security. Relying on the natural advantages of terrain and climate was folly and belief in the invulnerability provided by older, legacy fortifications and protective systems was illusory. Dire myths and whispered stories about what happened to invaders who dared to breach Niyaddour's walls weren't frightful enough to scare away the greedy and the ambitious. If someone was determined to get inside the city, they weren't going to allow themselves to be deterred by technology that was old back when their parents were young. This wasn't just any city, this was Niyaddour. It was a beast.

D'Spayr had accumulated a great deal of experience with putting down beasts.

The tunnel defensive force was on edge, having been fed news of the heliar's earlier violent events that was rife with anecdotal accounts and unsubstantiated rumors. A lot of what they'd been told was pure fabrication. However, accounts of Grimmurmanthe's assault on The City had served to perturb and distress the troopers enough that they unintentionally had begun to allow their murky and dismal surroundings to eat away at their collective confidence. Though they were a relatively disciplined force, they weren't the most highly educated of combatants. Their knowledge of military and guerilla battle tactics was limited to what they'd directly experienced as conscriptees under Kolag Y'phree's command. They were accustomed to meeting force with force. Stealth fighting was not in their meager skill set. They'd signed on to fight for their Warlord against forces of invading pillagers, bandits, and criminal scavengers, mostly human-based threats --- not giant alien demons.

And there was certainly no way they were ready to confront the strategic education and battle experience of a former Knight in service to the Council of Free Territories, an Outland Marshal.

Two dozen men. As one man, they stirred in response to a mystifying, primally avatavistic disturbance in the dim light that danced at the edges of perception. It was jarring. To a man, they sensed rather than heard or felt the ghostly arrival of a sudden, unexpected presence, appearing inside the entrance gate at the mouth of the tunnel. A man encased in outmoded and slightly battered, silvery-gray armor astride the back of a large, armored reptile.

How had he gotten in? How had he and his beast managed to breach their defensive perimeter without making any noise? Why hadn't any alarms sounded?

"Listen and listen well," the Knight said, speaking with a firm, unswerving conviction. "I'm only going to say this once. The man whom you serve is not deserved of your diligence or your allegiance. You know this. To him, you are nothing more than intelligent guard dogs and you are expendable. I wish you no harm. No one has to die. Let me pass unopposed and none of you will come to any harm."

The Sergeant-At-Arms for the troop immediately responded, his voice firm and imbued with pride and confidence in the abilities of his men. There was respect in his response, but, too, there was an undeniable threat. "We have a duty here, in this place. We were given a trust. A purpose. We cling to no illusion of our worth to Kolag Y'phree and so we fight to satisfy our own honor, not the Warlord's. We have no quarrel with you unless you continue to invade our perimeter. You are but one man. We are many. Turn back, go, and we will not trouble you."