The Fallen

Chapter Two: Lords of the Far North

Morane tugged at the golden sash around his waist, trying to decide if it should be loose or tight. His gaze remained on the bronze skin of his hand and he grunted. He ground his teeth and adjusted the satin scarf wrapped around his head as he walked behind the other watchers. They were all in human form, dressed as kings from the north. The leaders rode Shimeeras, a dwarf race of the chameleon dragons. They were less powerful but still possessed short-range flight and less-impressive but still formidable fire-breathing.

“The sash is to be loose, and the scarf is worn tightly, an inch above the eyebrows,” Draven said.

Morane jumped and yelped at his friend’s voice. He stopped and looked at Draven. He was wearing purple robes with a golden sash and scarf just like him, but Morane was genuinely impressed at how well Draven adorned it. His locks, now black, were braided together and resting on his back.

“Where have you been?” he asked as they started walking again.

“A few feet back, amusing myself by watching you squirm in your imperial clothes.”

Morane snorted. “Would that I could be back in my armor.”

“Do you plan to woo the women or slay the men?” Draven asked.

Morane glanced over and grinned. “Perhaps both.”

Draven narrowed his eyebrows. “We are not here to harm anyone, Morane.”

Morane waved a dismissive hand and pointed to the front of their procession. Semyaza sat perfectly erect on his Shimeera with his head angled upward. “Already thinks he is a king. And the others are making a spectacle of themselves. I can’t decide if they are hoping to impress the people of Ubel or Semyaza.”

He shared a laugh with Draven, and then his friend nudged his elbow. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Morane. It’s almost as bad as that skin color you chose.”

“Says the one who chose to be the darkest skinned among us.”

Draven straightened his robes and winked up at Morane. “I look good, don’t I?”

“We’re supposed to be from the north. Northerners are pale-skinned. You look like Methusael’s child.”

Draven pointed. Before them, the city of Ubel had come into view. The sprawling city, built by Irad of Cain, sat strategically in the valley of Hinnom. At the southernmost edge of the Angor Forest, it was a thriving city with access to pure water, abundant hunting, and miles of fertile crops.

“When you go to see a king as a suitor to the women of his court, it pays to look like you belong,” Draven said. Especially when you look better than the local farmers and hunters.”

Morane rolled his eyes. “Jealousy may not look good on me, Draven, but pride is positively horrid on you.”

“All jokes, my friend,” Draven said. “Honestly, I’m nervous. Aren’t you?”

Morane scanned the flat rooftops of the brick buildings and the thatched roofs of the houses built into the surrounding hills of the valley and nodded. “Nervous? I’ve just condemned myself to eternal damnation, and I’m about to speak to the people I’ve observed from a distance for hundreds of years with no way of knowing how they will react. No, I’m not nervous. I’m terrified.”

A horn sounded from the edge of the valley, and the shimeera riders stopped. Semyaza held up his hand. They waited, none of the watchers moving or speaking. After several minutes, an entourage of soldiers clad in leather armor riding horcal lizards emerged from the city gates. They rode out in a wedge, nine in all. Semyaza and Ezeqiel nudged their shimeeras forward and went out to meet them.

“Yeah,” Draven said. “Terrified is a good word.”

Semyaza did his best to maintain his posture as his shimeera padded its way down the hill toward the soldiers. He glanced over at Ezeqiel, who was much more casual in his saddle. Slumped forward with his wrists draped on top of the saddle horn, he looked almost human. When Semyaza looked back to the point man of the wedge, he realized Ezeqiel was mimicking the pose of the soldiers’ leader. 

The leader—at least Semyaza assumed he was the leader because he was in front—was tall and thin. His skin was dark brown, and his thick beard was silver. This was a man who had seen several centuries. He was, indeed, leaning over his own saddle with his hands propped on the horn. A sword, likely made of crudely beaten brass, was mounted on his hip within easy reach. Semyaza eyed Ezeqiel, then slouched slightly in his own saddle. 

The leader held up his hand. “Halt.”

Semyaza pulled back on the reins of his shimeera, and the dragon stopped. It snorted and shook its head.

“State your business,” the leader said, lowering his hand. His voice was gruff but confident. He looked bored.

“Greetings, Soldier of Ubel,” Semyaza said. He hoped he was saying the correct words. He and the other leaders had debated this for the better part of the trip through Angor Forest. They had decided, after much disagreement, that demanding to be let into the city was not the human thing to do. Azazel had argued for force, citing the fact that the watchers could wipe out the male population of Ubel easily and simply take the women. Semyaza, supported by Ezeqiel, had been adamant about using diplomacy and gaining the favor of all the people.

“State your business,” the leader repeated.

Semyaza cleared his throat and straightened his back. “We are emissaries far from the north. I am An.” This he pronounced like “on.” He pointed at Ezeqiel. This is Enlil.” He smiled.

The leader was expressionless. “How far north? What city?”

Semyaza held his smile and blinked several times. “What city?” He and the others hadn’t discussed this.

The leader nodded. “Yes, unless the name of your home is ‘Far from the North.’”

Semyaza sensed that the leader was mocking him. He smiled wider and laughed awkwardly. He looked at Ezeqiel and flared his eyes wide. Ezeqiel shrugged, then made an “oh” motion with his mouth. He smiled widely and laughed awkwardly, making it a point to open his mouth and throw his head back. 

“Of course that is not the name of our home,” Semyaza said. We are from a small city, one you probably never heard of. It is called...Sumer.” This he thought of as he glanced around and felt the heat of the day. He only hoped he was pronouncing the hot season of the year correctly.

“Sumer?” 

Semyaza smiled and nodded. “Far north.”

“And you say it is a small city?”

Semyaza nodded again, wondering if he should stop doing so. “Virtually unknown.”

The leader straightened in his saddle and surveyed the watchers. “Perhaps they define small differently in the north. How small is a city that sends an envoy of two hundred men? And why are there no women with you?”

Semyaza was speechless. He heard something between a wheezing and laughter come out of his mouth, and he looked at Ezeqiel with desperation. Ezeqiel took the cue and straightened in his saddle, again mimicking the posture of the leader.

“My lord, surely you understand our fear of bringing the women of a city to strange lands,” Ezeqiel said. “We do not know your customs or the potential dangers of the road.”

We surely do not know their customs, Semyaza thought.

“And do you normally travel through forests in regal robes, dressed for ceremony?” the leader asked without hesitation. Semyaza’s shoulders slumped.

“We have very different customs in the north,” Ezeqiel said. “The far north, that is. For us, it is considered crude to approach someone’s home in traveling attire.” 

Semyaza fought to keep his jaw from dropping at Ezeqiel’s insane logic.

The leader shook his head and began to laugh. It was low at first, but then he turned to his soldiers and pointed at Semyaza and Ezeqiel. The other soldiers joined in his laughter, and it grew louder. The two dumbfounded watchers also laughed, awkwardly.

After what felt to Semyaza like forever, the leader stopped and wiped his eyes. “These men are no threat to Ubel. Check them for weapons and let them in.” He laughed again. “Welcome to Ubel, lords of the far north.” He kicked his heels into the sides of his horcal and pulled on the leather strap around its neck. As he rode away, he began to laugh hysterically.

Semyaza nodded.

*Please note this is a work in progress. The final story might be extremely different. All feedback is welcome!