Chapter Six
…..
Nesting Site of the Dovah of the East
Durnehviir, the Keeper of souls rumbles in pleasure as the hot sands of the desert crawl through his scales, the small particles cutting through the small indentions reaching soft skin underneath giving him it a nice scratchy feeling. If he is any dog, his tail might have been wagging.
There is a reason why Dovah and Dragons enjoy the touch of the desert. Dragons are the epitome of a magical creature, and they are hard wired to be able to live on any climate, from freezing tundras to exploding volcanoes or even the empty waters of the high seas. However it is here in the desert that Durnheviir would admit he feels most alive. The heat of the air, the kiss of sand and the availability of places to nest and call home, all resonate to his fiery soul.
Back on Earth he has been living on a rocky outcrop, forced to hide by magicians from the eyes of non-magicals. His old home can barely compare to his new home right now. Here he has all the space he can fly, constant food from the two legs that Ari governs over and if the mood hits him, he can always hunt.
The only deal that Ari asked from him and his fellow Dovah is that they guard the Mountain Ranges that the Two-legs call the Eye and keep their fellow wild Dovah from acting out too much. Durnheviir as far as he is concerned has no problem with the deal from the Herald of Death. Why would he protest after all? The Mountain Ranges provide a premium home with elevation, security and safety, plus desert heat ventilation. The deal also fulfills the needs of the Dovah to fight and enhance their skills every now and then by putting the younger drakes under their claws. He and Parrthurnax are the first to accept without undue drama unlike Alduin and Ovahdiig who have to be brow beaten before they grudgingly agree to the deal.
Now he, Durnheviir sits on the East Mountain Range with Parrthurnax at the North, Alduin to the South and Ovahdiig to the West, keeping the peace with the other dragons and maintain (rather like lounging in extreme comfort) their territories.
So far it has been lazy and boring work with the four dragons creating a schedule. The part where they have to guard the Mountain Range paths being almost non-existent due to no one except the Fedaykin themselves daring to pass the empty sands of the Desert of Bone and Ash that surrounds the Eye of the Snake.
Today however would seems to be different. Durheviir opens one baleful eye as he espies five riders amid the heat of the noon-day sun riding hard towards the Eastern Boneway, the valley that he is in charge of.
With a powerful heave, he moves his giant pale green bulk off its resting position to the entrance of the cave which he calls home and roars his displeasure on having his nap disturbed.
….
The Boneway of the East, the Only Entrance in this side of the Marches to the Eye of the Snake
Nymeria Martell stops her heaving horse as they finally cross the stream before approaching the mountains of the Eye.
"Is it still pursuing us?" she asks taking deep gulping breathes as she looks back to the great mound of sand currently making a U-Turn as it grunts its displeasure in the desert before diving back in the sand as if it's never there.
"I don't think so my queen. We almost died," pants the head of her remaining retinue as he, like her leans heavily on his saddle, grateful for being alive.
Nymeria takes a look at her other guards. Like the first, they all look red and tired, courtesy of the very hungry Sandworm that has been chasing them. She has underestimated the desert and made the fatal mistake on the third day of their journey. They have been riding hard the past two days from rocky outcrop to rocky outcrop to prevent attracting the attention of one of the Sandworms. The third day however, she makes the decision to lessen the speed of their horses to a basic canter to give them rest after two days of hard riding. The decision to replenish their beasts of burden strength costs them much. The last few leagues before reaching the Eye, a Sandworm sets upon her retinue, swallowing three before anyone can even squeak in alarm. It has been a hectic galloping then to the mountains here with the Sandworm claiming two more before they reach the safety of the streams.
Now here they are, at the marches of the Eye, which seems to be extremely unwelcoming.
"Are those bones?" asks one of her men peering at the scattered skulls and bleached bones littering the valley floor. There are hundreds of them, if not thousands. Bones of every kind, big and small are
"Fuck me, it's bones!" squawks another and might have bolted if not for Nymeria pulling the reins of his horse to prevent him from running back to the desert.
"Get a grip Manfeld!" she barks out in straight order. "The only place you can run for is back and we are not going out there until we are damned sure that Sandworm is well and truly gone.
"Of course, of course your majesty," the man bows. To his credit, he looks a little ashamed of himself as he pulls himself together.
"Okay, present your best faces, we are riding in," says Nymeria urging her horse forward. It takes a moment or two for the rest to pluck up the courage to follow behind her as they follow her to the valley inside.
Immediately the walls of rock enclosed them on both sides making everyone huddle a little closer. Nymeria herself gulps as the red rock and stone covers her entire sides with the only way being backward and forward. Her hand goes to touch the pommel of her sword for comfort as she pushes even more in.
It looks like any regular desert valley, but one can't fault her for feeling it being ominous. There is no sound in the valley, the constant air of the desert that has been present during their travel is absent here and like at the entrance, there are bones everywhere. White bleached bone that look as if they have been gnawed upon. Even their horses seem to sense the tense atmosphere as they balk unhappily, pawing at the ground with their hooves.
"This place is filled with the stench of death your grace, I think we should turn back. There is nothing here for us except dry rock and more bones," says one of Nymeria's men in a whisper cantering his horse at her side.
"It is, but we press on forward anyway, we are-," Nymeria is definitely cut off as without warning, the desert around her explodes in various ways and her horse whinnies in alarm as without warning, men in what seems to be form fitting leather suits of pale dirty white and grey with only their eyes visible appear around her holding dirks and large knives surrounding her party.
"TO ARMS! TO ARMS! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! TO AR-,"the head of her guard roars drawing his scimitar and might have started hacking left and right if not sudden large dragon landing right in front of her small group. The dragon, for dragon it is looks like it has taken a bath in the swamp with its dirty green color. It takes one baleful look at them before roaring loudly sending Nymeria's ears ringing.
As it is, her horse balks at the sudden appearance of the reptilian juggernaut and throws her off from her saddle. Nymeria has a second or two to feel lightweight as everything around her spins before landing bodily on the hard ground, dazed. The sharp edge of a knife is pressed to her throat making her freeze in instinct at the cold touch of the blade. She finds herself looking into the black eyes of one of the men in leather outfits.
"You are trespassing in the territory of the Lhisan-Al-Gaib," the man she can tell intones coldly. "State your business and identity,"
Gulping, Nymeria tries to regain her composure despite covered in sand, hair askew and a blade touching her throat.
"I am Nymeria Martell, wife of King Mors of Sunspear, ruler of Dorne," she intones in reply. "I have come seeking the La'Os tribes that have banded here at The Eye," she says making sure to push the emblem stitched at the chest of her clothes with the sigil of Sunspear on it.
She can tell that her words have impact for the men glances at one another before looking to the dragon currently peering down at all of them with an observant gaze.
"We cannot confirm that, but we are taking you in. If you are looking for the La'Os tribes from before then you have found them. Though these days, we call ourselves the Fedaykin and not La'Os anymore," the man replies taking off his blade from her throat letting her up.
"You are keeping me prisoner?" she asks dusting herself off from the sand that clings to her clothes.
"We cannot be the judge of that. The Lhisan-Al-Gaib would be. You must meet her and she will be the one to decide your fate," the man answers before nodding to his compatriots holding in knifepoint her remaining men. They immediately relaxed their stances making the men of Nymeria to relax a little. "As of now, you are our temporary guests," he says before turning to face the giant dragon with a bow.
"Lord Durnheviir, would you mind informing the Lhisan-Al-Gaib that the Queen Nymeria Martell of Sunspear is requesting an audience?"
"Zeyma, I will do as you requested two-legs, if only to stretch my wings," the dragon replies stunning Nymeria at the sound of its gravelly voice. She is no stranger to dragons. She has seen the dragons of the Freehold more than once due to the enmity between the Rhoynar and the Valyrians. However this is the first time that she has heard one speak.
The dragon looks down on her and her men one final time before opening its large wings, and with a few flaps ascend to the sky with a whirlwind, heaving its heavy bulk, roaring as it takes to air.
"A dragon that talks, that is a first," whistles one of her men before turning to the remaining Fedaykin. "Is this Lhisan-Al-Gaib, one of the Valyrians of the Freehold?" he asks.
"No, the lady is not of the Freehold. She is the Voice From the Outer World, a prophet of the water goddess. She does not own the dragons but the dragons defer to her. Lord Durnheviir is one. He is the Lord of the Boneway, this valley that we are in right now is his territory. He is one of the Dovah, the talking dragons, the intelligent ones,"
"Wait, there is more than one?" another of her men asks curiously.
"Aye, there are four. But don't underestimate them just because they can talk. That just means that they can be more reasoned with compared to the ones that aren't," he shudders. "But they are still dragons and they would not tolerate any disrespect to their selves,"
"I see," Nymeria is the one that answers this time. "Would you mind leading us to this prophet of yours then good man? I would very much like to meet her,"
"Aye, I believe she will also with you Queen Nymeria after Lord Durnheviir delivers the message to her. Please, follow me and do not wander once we get to the city. We, Fedaykin are not the most trusting of peoples," says the man before whistling making his men form a semi circle around Nymeria's small retinue.
"So why do you call this The Boneway?" Nymeria asks as one of her men helps her up her horse.
"Lord Durnheviir drops his meals here, thus the name," answers one of the Fedaykin.
"I see," Nymeria shudders as she recalls that some of the bones disturbingly shapes human. Who is she however to say what a dragon eats and what not to eat?
It is not her first time witnessing a dragon. She has seen a lot with the Rhoynar fighting the Lords of Valyria. The dragonlords are not kind with their dragons and many a Rhoynar town has been turned to cinders under their rule. She knows exactly how much power a single Dragonlord has. Her people in an effort to find a weakness to the encompassing might of the Valyrians try to study them, to understand them and thus by some miracle, probably overcome their might, to little avail. Yet their studies are not without fruit. They understand that Dragonlords can only command one dragon each, never has it been seen for a single Dragonlord to muster one dragon. Yet if the words of this Fedaykin is to be held true, this Lhisan-Al-Gaib, not only commands one dragon but four. There is also the fact that her dragon talks, it talks. Nymeria has to slap herself to make sure that she's not suffering from desert fever and find out she has imagined it all. Yet it does, the dragon talks.
This changes everything from her original plan on how to bring these people to the fold. Dorne, despite being united cannot stand against the might of four dragons. The latest news from her desk after already tells that House Gardener is trying to breach the Marches of Dorne with House Yronwood recovering from the Martell''s conquest of Dorne. This is supposed to be a side issue, not a big one. Yet this new discovery of dragons in Dorne has just pushed it to her number one concern. What's to stop after all this Lhisan-Al-Gaib from feeling that one day, she can just fly out and take the Desert for herself?
There must be a way for this and for her to continue her rule of Dorne and Martell supremacy without costing them their lives and the lives of their new people.
"We are here," the sudden voice of their Fedaykin guide, brought her out of her musings as they reach the edge of a plateau overlooking the exit of the Boneway. What she sees next makes her drop her mouth in wonder and disbelief.
She has expected a smattering of tents when she has first set off on this mission of hers. Maybe a large smattering of tents if the rumors about the La'Os are to be believed.
What she does not expect to see is a big fucking city filled with water.
There, just below the plateau is what obviously a city shining brightly of red and brown with rising steeples at many sides. It is obviously desert in nature since the area around it is still desert in design and color, but the city is there, proud and strong with mighty walls and bars and black banners with a silver tree on it. Further ahead she can see another walled part of the city with a large temple-like building standing out with how much green on it surrounded by a maze of flowers and gardens. Around the city also are farms of every kind growing different kinds of plants and even entire meadows filled with grass where pastures of sheep, goats and cows can be seen. After the desert monotone she has been enduring the entire travel here, this sudden change of view is like stepping into another world.
"By the gods, where do you get the water for all of this?" asks one of her men. She cannot fault him for it. The city looks large enough to fit a few million and add the farms and meadows outside? That's a large investment when it comes to water. And water is scarce to be found in large amounts in this gods forsaken desert.
"Mother Rhoyne blesses us and she does it through her herald," answers one of the Fedaykin smugly at him before gesturing them to move and follow the head one who has started walking down.
Nymeria's ears are tingling when she heard about Mother Rhoyne. She has not expected that. The Seven Kingdoms South hold true to the Faith of the Seven. Short of her Rhoynar that she brought with her, she has not yet been able to meet an Andal who holds belief to Mother Rhoyne. It seems that her expectations would be changed a lot in this place a lot.
The steep down is fast and Nymeria soon finds herself under the scrutiny of the Fedaykin at the meadows. Their guide has not been lying when he described that they would be looked at with mistrust. They are dressed in plain robes of dirty white and loose clothing, ideal outfits for those who call the desert their home. However there seems to be a sternness in them that is not present in anywhere she has been to, either in Essos or Westeros. These people have a direction in their life, and a focus.
The mighty open gates of the city soon loom over them and Nymeria finds herself in awe as she enters the city. Buildings and houses made of red rock and limestone greets her. They are not beautiful or elegant but they look hard and comfortable. Rising domes like giant towers loom over her and she wonders what they are for. She is not given the chance to though for her guides push her fast and for good reason.
The moment the masses surrounding them notice their presence, they pause before parting ways like tide to water, eyes full of mistrust and worry with some gripping their weapons. Nymeria's got a feeling if not for their guides, they might have been gutted here in the middle of the street.
"Let us hurry queen," grunts one of her guides urging them to a small canter with her guides easily making do with jogging behind her horse. "I cannot promise your safeties until the Lhisan-Al-Gaib clears your name,"
Nymeria needs no further urging as she makes sure to urge her horse to a fast jog with her men doing the same. They do not enjoy the sites further of the city as they are forced to ride for their lives. It takes half an hour before they reach the second gate, the entrance to the inner wall with the Fedaykin bowing to the guards, dressed as them in form fitting white green suits before gesturing for them to enter through the open gate.
"The Lord Durheviir has brought word of your coming. You have passage as the Lhisan-Al-Gaib allows it,"
Nymeria bows her head also to the entrance guards before following her guide gesturing for her to enter. Immediately another scenery change greets her. She has seen the massive garden from outside at the cliff on the plateau, but inside? It is a different story. It seems as if she has walked into a wonderland. Around her seems to be a maze full of flowers in full bloom among bushes, tall poplar trees and coconuts. Bright desert flowers of yellow and red standing beside mazes of pure blue water. Standing in wonder and might though is a large square building with plants hanging on it, and falling down on its sides, pillars and stones like snakes. It is a beautiful and wonderful sight.
"What is this place?" she can hear one of her men asks out in confusion and wonder.
"Welcome to the Hanging Gardens, the jewel of our city and the home of the Temple of Mother Rhoyne," says one of her guards before gesturing to her again. "We cannot make the Lhisan-Al-Gaib wait. You can enjoy the sights later queen, after your audience with her,"
"I understand," replies Nymeria pulling herself away from staring too much at the maze of water around the building. She has not seen so much water in her entire life from the deserts.
She follows her guides towards the main building where they are met by two more security checkpoints with the guide explaining to her that they are Howling Scorpions, the personal guards of the Lhisan-Al-Gaib. Finally they are at the entrance where a guard holds a hand stopping her and her retinue from entering as they climb down from their saddles.
"The Lhisan-Al-Gaib would meet with the queen alone. The rest of you will stay here until the meeting is done," he grunts unwelcomingly, his eyes full of suspicion and mistrust.
"You heard her boys, I am going in alone," says Nymeria to her men who immediately start protesting if not for her staring hard at them.
"I can take care of myself, behave," she says. They still look ready to protest but they follow her order by bowing to her.
"Take me in then good ser," she says to the guard stopping them who grunts again before gesturing for her to follow.
"Surly fellow," she mumbles beneath her breathe but follows nevertheless.
The temple is made of white limestone instead of the brown before and she follows the man through a passageway made of carvings and drawings which seems to be moving. She might have stopped if not for the man egging her on with unhappy grunts to follow. Finally they reached in a large circular hall with a white tree with leaves of silver dominating standing at the middle with steams of water in mazes connecting to the pool around it.
There at the pool gardening the root of a tree is a pale figure with midnight black hair in a translucent dress which hides little of her body carving something around the pool. The man approaches her before bowing unto the ground with his face before speaking out:
"I've brought the queen as you requested prophetess,"
"Thank you Lagos, please leave us. I would like to speak with her in private," the musical melody of the woman says. The man bows once more before scurrying out leaving Nymeria alone with the figure who drops her chisel and hammer, putting her bare palms to the water before dusting it off in her dress and turns to approach her. She is very beautiful, and pale, Nymeria notices. Her hair is long and straight attached to high cheekbones and perfectly sculpted face, green eyes blazing in inward fire. She looks like a queen of Valyria, noble, regal and proud despite her simple attire.
"Hello Queen Nymeria Martell of Sunspear," she says, her musical voice having a double edge to it. "I am the Lhisan-Al-Gaib, the Voice of the Outer World of Mother Rhoyne. On behalf of Jerusalem, I welcome you to our home,"
…..
Author's Note:
So another chapter done. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this, next chapter would be the relationship between Nymeria and Ari, and also of an unexpected antagonist that would come from the greatest kingdom of the known world.
Thanks for reading. Please review. As usual, your reviews are the song to this writer's heart.