Excerpt From Fiefdom 17....

Excerpt #7 From Fiefdom 17 - Please Read The Previous Six Excerpts....

We see Gratis Zero and Beljazza in a full glider chase of the hooded glider riders, the latter who is fighting on behalf of Uba Petra … and out of nowhere, there are dragon blasts from above… engulfing both gliders and causing the hooded riders to fall aimlessly to the ground. The blasts also catch the chasing duo of Beljazza and Gratis Zero by surprise too and caused them to slow their gliders down considerably. There is a regal interruption… as both the Coms of Beljazza and Gratis Zero come to life... causing both Beljazza and Gratis Zero to hover and tactically survey the immediate airspace and general Quadrant’s perimeter… there is a familiar voice, at least to Beljazza….

Dame Nera: “Stand Down!”

Gratis Zero and Beljazza both looked at each other - not responding to Dame Nera via their respective Coms - then up at the mammoth dragon that is carrying Dame Nera. There are still puffs of smoke emanating from Dame Nera’s dragon, as it flaps its wings to stay aloft. We see Dame Nera as she untethered her glowing weapon and then reaching on the right side of her dragon to loosen a strap from the dragon’s massive stomach area, which resulted in a glider, identical to that of Beljazza’s, but only longer, separating and falling from the dragon… Dame Nera watches the falling glider and manipulates some sort of contraption located on her left bicep and then she jumps and smoothly lands on the now hovering, horizontal glider. In the mean time, we see the hooded riders, who were thrown from their gliders by the blasts of Dame Nera’s dragon, who too must have engaged their gravity boots when they were knocked off their gliders, and who obviously escaped the blasts, scampering and trying to escape. The hooded riders, instead of running in opposite direction, are together when the first blast from Dame Nera’s dragon cuts off their escape route… both are reaching for side-arms, but none is there to be had and so both produced sharp daggers and is standing back-to-back in a defensive posture.

Gratis Zero and Beljazza are still observing from their hovering crafts… Beljazza’s face betrays her because it is a face of growing concern for the hooded riders, while Gratis Zero maintains his normal poker face. As the dragon menacingly hovers overhead and shoots deterring blast of flames… Dame Nera descends with her glider and when she is about six feet from the ground in the general vicinity where the hooded riders are, she jumps and simultaneously unsheathes a glistening sword. Dame Nera is facing her adversaries, the latter who are no longer back-to-back, but are both facing the Dame and threateningly wielding their respective daggers. Dame Nera in cucumber calmness….

Dame Nera: “Where is Uba Petra?”

One of the hooded riders: ”Who are you?” I know that Uba Petra put on a butt whipping clinic by beating on a female Dragon Lord… 'who knows if Dame Humpty Dumpty was put back together after the fall at Goshen - in front of all those Terranovians too…?“

Dame Nera’s strides are unnatural in their quickness… we scarcely see her sword as it find its mark… lapping off the talking, mocking rider’s still hooded head and before the torso, which is spewing blood like a geyser, could fall, disrespectfully kicking it to the ground. The other hooded rider flinches when he or she saw the other hooded comrade still bleeding torso falls.

Surviving Rider in a voice that is part bravado and part being petrified: ”We are not afraid to die.”

Dame Nera, with her glistening sword now partially ruby red and hanging down on her right side, stands three feet from the surviving hooded rider.

Dame Nera: “Yes, I know you are not afraid to die - but again, where is Uba Petra…?”

Beljazza, sensing the outcome, looks at Gratis Zero, who again still has that same unperturbed look.

Beljazza in fawning reverence: “Dame Nera, perhaps we could take back the prisoner and we may be able to glean the whereabouts of this Uba Petra and those in his ranks….”

Dame Nera, without looking in the direction of Beljazza’s voice…

Dame Nera: “Did I ask you for assistance… you must know your place Terranovian… that your wearing our uniform is only ceremonial… now, do not again interrupt me again!”

Surviving Hooded Figure: “Long live John Mark….!”

Dame Nera, turning and walking away from the hooded figure, looks up at her still hovering dragon, which then swoops down… and then we hear the sickening crunches, as the hooded rider is gobbled up in the carnivorous dragon’s mouth. There is a gasp from Beljazza and even the stoic Gratis Zero momentarily averts his eyes from the cruel fate of the once surviving hooded rider. Dame Nera is aboard her hovering glider, while her dragon is already airborne and flying toward Goshen….

Dame Nera pointing at Gratis Zero: “Write a report of what happened here including what started in Fiefdom 11….”

Gratis Zero is looking at Beljazza, as if for guidance/help: “Do I do so in Fiefdom 11…? ‘I am stationed there….”

Dame Nera nonchalantly: “Fiefdom 11 is no more!”

Gratis Zero who was about to power up his glider… pauses….

Gratis Zero’s normal poker face has left him and his voice is partially mumbled with sorrowful emotions: “Wha… what do you mean… Fiefdom 11 is no more - that’s… my home?”

Dame Nera in an amusing, frustrated voice: “Here we go again being questioned by a Terranovian - Fiefdom 11, your home, is no more - you may register your disagreement with Lord Anak Nye.... As for you - Dame Nera is pointing at Beljazza – you and I must have that lesson that apparently did not take during your training.”

Dame Nera gives Gratis Zero a look as if to say, what are you still doing here… Gratis Zero in turn gives Beljazza a long look and powers up his glider and takes off to the sub-station in Goshen.

The Convocation…

There is a sparsely decorated room, lighted with candles hanging off its walls; this room also has on its walls… paintings of Dragon Lords, attired in full military regalia. In addition, the room has an ornate, country-mile long polished table that has in its centre bowls of fresh fruits from Goshen and velvet purple chairs that number all of the ruling Fiefdoms’ Lords. All of the chairs are occupied - except at both ends of the table - with the various Lords who are munching on the fruits and engaging in small talk. Beside the Lords, there is a young couple with an unusually quiet baby in a bassinet standing in one corner. The couple is scared, but they are braving what to them is a surreal surrounding because of their baby… now and then the couple look in the direction of one of the Lords… who must be their master. Almost in the middle of the table, there is a young Lord who is louder and more boisterous than the other Dragon Lords.

The Young Dragon Lord: “Who called this Convocation… it is not like we are on a war footing….”

There are murmurings… some in agreement, while an older Lord, sitting directly beside the questioning Young Lord, tries to calm him. Suddenly, the doors are opened from either side of the heads of the long table and from one end we see the two pod brothers, Anak Nye, enter. Both brothers are dressed to match the paintings hanging from the wall, except only one brother has his Dragon Lord weapon tethered to his arm and it is glowing white hot… the light from the weapon, in addition with the candle lit room, highlights that both Lords are well over six feet and have lanky muscular frames… with the typical spaniel-like shell for heads that are pinkish/purple and with piecing, flaming pink eyes. The convocation becomes quiet, be it out of respect/reverence or protocol and stand… note that the complaining younger Lord had to be prompted by the elder Lord sitting beside him to stand.

Many of the Lords in unison: ”Welcome Lords Anak Nye….”

The Lord Anak Nye, in the far corner where the human couple and baby were, motions for the rest of the Lords to take their seats.

Anak Nye: “My brother and I thank you for coming to this convocation… there are grave threats to the Fiefdoms that must be addressed forthwith….”

Young Lord: “Why not send us a report – a Convocation?”

Anak Nye: “It is a Convocation because of the serious nature of the situation.”

Young Lord: “What situation… I have not heard of any threat to the Fiefdoms – we should be talking about how too much of our profits go to you…”

Anak Nye in the same cadence:“Do not interrupt again!”

Once again, the older Lord is whispering to the young Lord and chastising him with his eyes.

Anak Nye: “Recently, we have had two Dragon Lords killed and one of our Dames, badly injured by what seems like an organized force… we do not know who they are because they are masked….

There are murmurings again amongst the Lords… and one of the Lords raising his hand…

Anak Nye: “Yes, Lord Baygin.”

Lord Baygin: “Do you know who is responsible?”

Lord Anak Nye: “We are still gathering Intel (he lied)... this is happening because we have become too complacent, even our Dragons are too fat... we have allowed the Da Vinci Caste to build gliders that are faster than our dragons and many of us have not seen fit to teach our sentinels and ourselves to master these gliders, which can maneuver and have the tactical advantage over us in battle. The Terranovians know that we no longer have the dragon power to enforce our ways… some of the Fiefdoms are not even manned and we hoping that psychological war we used in the pass will suffice… is specious - there is a growing enemy out there that is privy to our complacency, weaknesses, and are pouching our defenses and resolve....”

The Young Lord in cackling, mocking laughter: “Perhaps, that enemy is John Mark… the one you and your pod brother turn into a legend.”’

As tall as the speaking Anak Nye was… he was sliding down the middle of the long, ornate table, with bowls of fruits being scattered, and Lords backing away from the table. Anak Nye, sliding on his knees, and when he reaches the Young Lord, stops, and butts the young Lord in the middle of his forehead… there is a loud impact and the young Lord’s head is fractured and his blood is profusely oozing out... The older Lord is sobbing and trying to keep the now quiet convulsing young Lord from falling out of the chair. All through this havoc, the other Anak Nye does not move, but many of the other Lords had eased back from the table and from the young meddling Lord. The Anak Nye that silenced the young Lord goes back to his chair and resumed his scathing indictment of the state of the Fiefdom Lords’ union….

Anak Nye: “There was a time when our dragons ate the flesh of the Terranovians… but we weaned them of their diet… because we love the organic fruits and vegetables grown in Goshen and we needed the people to cultivate the land... as part of the ‘organic process’… when our machines could have done the same. We are fraternizing with the Terranovians, siring abominations, and when I came in here , as you can see my weapon (he points to his weapon) is still glowing white hot… and all of you whose weapons are tethered to your arms are barely lighted, even though there are Terranovian in our presence (disdainly pointing to the couple with the still quiet baby)… even their suckling should have made your weapons glow because it is a barometer of our enmity… of the protracted, bloody battle we fought… a battle (Anak Nye pointing at his brother)that made my pod brother a mute. We have allowed the Terranovians into our ranks under the guise of compromise and unity – but petrol and water do not mix! Our profits are being eaten up too because most of the Terranovians stopped eating fish and replace eating of fish with fruits and vegetables since it is where their so called hero (John Mark) fell… (Anak Nye pauses and looks into the direction of the still trembling young Lord with the cracked skull)… and for mentioning that name, you shall meet your demise momentarily.

The Older Lord sighs…..

Older Lord interrupting: “Please… Lord Anak… spare my son…. he is young and do not know of our protocols….”

The young Lord tries to rise up… but the mute Anak Nye speedily, as if gliding, untethered the weapons of the older and younger Lords… both Lords are forced back into their chairs. There is a gasp from the Lords because the talking Anak Nye too had untethered his weapon and was now manning a sword that was turning into fire and ice. Anak Nye walks toward the young Lord - while the other Lords moved away from the table, even the father who had been chastising him - and touches him with the sword… as it was flaming… causing the young Lord to burn….

The pleading in the older Lord’s eyes for his son causes Anak Nye to touch the young burning Lord again when the sword turned to ice, which then turned the young Lord into a humanoid block- of-ice. Anak Nye motions and the windows are opened and that is when we realized that the Convocation was taking place in a dome-like High-Rise… and with one hand, the one not manning the sword, the young Lord is taken up and thrown through one of the windows, whereby some of the Lords saw the block of ice, that was the young talkative Lord, burst into bloody shards of ice.

Althrough the commotion when the Lord was thrown through the window, everyone looked outside the High-Rise, except the young Terranovian couple with child, the young Lord’s father , and the mute Anak Nye. Everyone is back and sitting at the table… and once again, Anak Nye has the floor. He has sheathed the sword….

Anak Nye: “Perhaps, (pointing at the father whose son was thrown out of the window) the elder would like to gather the remains of his son… “

The elder is still in shock and some of the Lords helped him to one of the doors and then they resumed their respective seats.

Anak Nye: “We are at war and we all need to contribute to the efforts… cutting back on our wives expenditures. Anyone who wears a mask must die and especially those who ride on gliders… and we have to replace, or moreover, augment our dragon forces with gliders… our dragons must be lean again and the respect we once had must be restored… and as for your weapons not glowing in the presence of the Terranovians… that I cannot resolve with words… but come to remembrance of your old hatred.”

Anak Nye is interrupted by the loud sobbing by of the young mother… the husband is worried too but he is trying to calm his wife…. The murmuring starts… and Anak Nye is coy and smiling.

Anak Nye: “Even the Terranovian knows her fate… for she knows that she cannot live with what was said here. I shall repay your Lord for my using you and husband as props… but the point had to be made.”

Anak Nye is manipulating buttons under the desk… and soon there are loud noises, even penetrating the closed windows. The windows are opened again and the Lords go to look and they see the legions of red and snow white dragons… representing the swords that Anak Nye has. Anak Nye… with both hands lift the couple… who is struggling to no avail and throw both to the dragons… and before they could hit the ground, the couple is consumed by both species of dragons… because we see their blood on some of the white dragons. Again, the mute Anak Nye did not move, but collected the young baby… who is still not crying…. The windows are closed when Anak Nye finished showing off his own personal army of dragons to psychologically give the other convoking Lords something to think about…. Anak Nye looks at his brother holding the young orphaned baby… in mocked dismay….

Anak Nye is shaking his head: “Even my pod brother is infected with compassion for the young Terranovian sapling… but we shall give the suckling to one of our many orphanages… this Convocation is over and I hope to see the changes discussed… and couriers shall convey what is needed because I suspect many in the Da Vinci Caste are in this growing rebellion employ… know that Fiefdom 17 is the key and we must allocate our best resources there….”

The Lords pay their final respect to the Anak Nye brothers and file out… while one sentinel comes in and takes the newly orphaned baby… The room, with half the bowls of fruits turned over on the table and on the ground, is empty… save for both Anak Nye brothers… the talking Anak Nye speaks into a Com…

Anak Nye is speaking to an anonymous someone on the other side of the Com: “No Lord should outlive his young son… because of his grief… make it look like he came to his demise at his own hands….”

Those of You who have read the previous excerpts From Fiefdom 17… please give me some feed back because I am literally writing this without the benefit of notes… unlike the rest of the stories I have written, which had much planning – so again, please give me some constructive feed back.

-Verily Prime

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