Kathy had said nothing in reply, hauling the kennin warrior to his feet and helping him strip off his armor. She helped guide him back to the bathroom and got a bath going for him, wincing at the reek of blood and old sweat and grime on his simple clothes as he peeled them off. He slipped down into the tub and sighed deeply, saying not a word for some time as he soaked.
His eyes, half-lidded, had a rheumy, unfocused look to them she didn't care for at all. Finally, after ten minutes of tense silence, she asked the obvious question. "What did you mean, fifty years?"
"Time slipped," he replied sleepily. "When the difference in the passage of time between two Planes becomes too large, they are closed off from one another. It's why I couldn't cross over earlier. I assume you and Byron tried from here?"
"A couple of times," she said quietly. He wasn't looking at her, his eyes still staring hazily ahead. "Dag? What happened to you? What's been going on in Amermidst?" His eyes flared open wide and clear, a hiss of air sucking in between his bared teeth.
"There is no Amermidst Kingdom," he said flatly. "There are the dragons, and those of us who've managed to survive. Everything else is wilderness and ashes." Kathy trembled, her skin crawling in gooseflesh. Daggeuro suddenly grimaced and groaned, leaning forward in the water, clutching at his wounded leg. "Give me a wash cloth, Kathy, and some soap. I have to clean this out."
She ducked out into the hallway, grabbed one and a towel from the linen closet, and fetched her cell phone. When she returned, she sent a text to Byron- 'Daggeuro is here, hurt. Time slipped, fifty years went by there. Will update you when you get home.' She looked up as Daggeuro lifted his leg up out of the water, saw how bad the wound was. "What did that," she asked.
"Lizardman with a lance," the kennin spat, scrubbing the wound, growling through his teeth. He rinsed it off, and it looked a little better. "They're natural servants of the dragons, descendants. Their capitulation was a foreseeable thing," he muttered darkly. "But the gotrin, now, that was a kick in the slats."
Kathy put one hand gently under his long jaw and turned his face so that their eyes could meet. She saw anger there, anger and fear and rage, all blended until the border between one emotion and the next had disappeared entirely. "Daggeuro," she said quietly but firmly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Byron is on his way home. He'll be about three or four more hours. When you've finished bathing, come out, I'll have some clothes for you to put on, and you can rest until he gets here. Then you can tell us everything, okay?"
He just blinked at her, finally nodding and pulling away. Kathy left him to drain the tub and run the shower, pulling a pair of Byron's pants and one of his baggy white pajama shirts from his dresser. She nipped into the bathroom and set the clothes on the closed toilet, then sat out in the living room and rattled like a leaf on the couch. When she'd ducked into the bathroom, Daggeuro had the shower curtain drawn and water running, but she'd clearly heard him sobbing.
She'd never been more terrified in her life.
Byron stood with Kathy in their bedroom doorway, staring in at the slumbering form of the kennin warrior upon their bed. He was nestled in under the comforter, his left leg uncovered and bulky under three rolls of medical gauze and Byron's gray sweatpants.
The couple closed the door softly, moving out to the living room, sitting down in front of Daggeuro's armor, piled on the floor. His sword belt lay there as well, Boon and Bane in their power-suppressing sheaths. The smell of his clothes still lingered from where they lay over by the kitchen archway.
Kathy had relayed to Byron what had transpired as thoroughly as she could, and he had seemed properly shocked. He also seemed on edge, moreso than usual.
"Sounds bad," he said, grabbing one of Daggeuro's battered metal boots. "I only really ever met that one dragon, the one guarding the Ether doors. That was enough for me. He was friggin' spooky." Kathy nodded, thinking of Sen Chuk. Byron set the boot down, took out his cigarettes and lit one. "What do you think he meant by there is no Amermidst Kingdom?"
"I think he meant just that," Kathy said, shaking her head. "I think the kingdom fell, or maybe the government changed. Either way, we won't know until he's awake to tell us." The two moved out to the kitchen so they could speak above a whisper without fear of waking Daggeuro up. Byron grabbed coffee, Kathy a Coke, and they sat together at the small round table with Tigger laying a few feet away.
"The elf," Byron said. "I knew what he was as soon as I spotted him. Guy looked like he was gonna take off running, down by the mayor's offices. He might've passed for any other homeless guy, but I saw his ears, and I knew. Made eye contact, and he just walked away, disappeared around the corner."
"A refugee," Daggeuro said in the archway, drawing their eyes. "You might see more before too long." He looked strange in Byron's clothes, too muscular in the human's attire. His tail poked up and over the waistline. "Byron, can I have a coffee? It's been a long time since I had any that was halfway decent." Byron jumped up and fetched one for the kennin as he took up a seat at the table, easing into the chair. Byron set the mug down before him and patted him lightly on the back. "My thanks."
"Not a problem. So," Byron said, rubbing the back of his head, not sure how to proceed. Kathy, as ever, saved him from further awkwardness.
"Can you give us a summation of what's happened in the last fifty years in Ether Plane," she asked Daggeuro. The kennin knight smiled, an easy, good-natured expression she'd rarely seen him wear.
"That would be best. Details would just bog us down, and we'd be here a week before going back over. If, that is, you two are willing to help us." Byron and Kathy exchanged a lok and a nod, the sort of silent communique only achieved by kin or those who truly, deeply love one another. "Very well. Let me begin with shortly after you returned home," he began.
Two weeks after Kathy and Byron left Ether Plane, Councilman Stahg officially won reelection to the High Council. He underwent a change of heart and of policy tactics, quickly reinventing himself as a friend of the people.
A month later, time slipped, and passage between the Mortal and Ether Planes was cut off. This was not a big deal for most, but some Awakened got trapped in Ether as a result. Stahg quickly established a support group for them, which was widely hailed as a tremendous mercy.
Seven months later, Daggeuro and Selena discovered that she was pregnant with their first child. Eight months after that, their eldest son, Turot, was born, a small pup but healthy. "The father's breed always dominates in Ether," Daggeuro explained.
Selena decided to quit her post as a Watchman, becoming a full-time parent. She was tremendous as a mother, if somewhat overprotective. Daggeuro spoke fondly of the first two years of Turot's life, genuinely warm and nostalgic.
Their daughter Marianna followed when Turot was three, and their youngest a year after that, named Rasmus. They had a bustling, happy family life together. Daggeuro began focusing less on his duties as commanding officer of the Royal Guard, which the King minded not at all.
Three years later, Queen Titania died of a disease that affected only wee folk, known as arcanum rot. The great King Ovin was said to have wept unconsolably for a fortnight. "A fairy in grief is a dangerous thing," Daggeuro commented, taking a refill on his coffee from Byron. "He wouldn't even see me, or his brother Klayen. He just stayed in his bedroom and had food brought in. The High Council nearly declared a state of emergency, but he came around finally."
Daggeuro became mired in politics for a while, as King Ovin could not focus his will on governance. Eventually, the King got right again, and all was quiet for several years. But one day, thirty-four years ago now, King Ovin disappeared. There was no ransom, no notice, no letter telling anyone where he'd gone. He simply vanished.
"The sages were consulted, of course," Daggeuro said, now leaning his elbows on the table, his tone growing more intense. "But after three weeks, they were unable to sense his aura anywhere in Ether. One of them made the mistake of letting that slip to a citizen, and the entire kingdom fell into a panic. There was chaos, and if not for the skill of the Watch and Rangers, we might have lost control of everything.
"The High Council stepped in and had me summoned to their hall, tried telling me it was time to fulfill the part of my duties that would put me in charge of the kingdom until a new King could be named. I refused them."
"What," asked Byron, shocked at this development. "Why would you turn that down?"
"Because he's a soldier at heart, not a ruler," Kathy replied in the kennin's stead. "Right?"
"You have the essential truth of it there, yes," said Daggeuro. "Anyway, they balked and hollered at me a while, until they finally decided to name one of their own as interim ruler. They chose Stahg. It was a smart decision; he was well-liked, and moreover, he was almost universally trusted. The people calmed down.
"But a year and a half later, the dragons came," he said, now hushed. "Two enormous red wyrms. They burned and crushed most of the capital flat, without warning. People fled to the Ether Doors, which were unguarded. Sen Chuk had simply left. I managed to get Selena and the kids through one of the doors, took us all to Haveria, in the west. We got there only to discover that city had already been razed to the ground."
Daggeuro continued, glossing over details. The dragon races had effectively declared open war on all faerie. Their reason? Faerie had proven terrible keepers of the Plane according to their new god, who had slain and deposed the six-headed dragon god, Gatech. They referred to this unknown creature simply as 'The Great One'. The Great One had decreed that dragonkind was to decimate faerie, bigs and wee folk all, and leave their numbers minimal, that they might eke out an existence as servants and playthings.
The dragons had run mad, all thanks to this new god. Pockets of survivors were allowed to establish towns, but no town could have more than fifty faerie, bigs or wee folk, it didn't matter what the mix. No governments were allowed to be established, but small outfits or companies could be formed.
"But as ever happens when tyranny becomes law, rebellion became duty," Daggeuro snarled, clenching his fist that didn't hold the mug of coffee. "A loose confederation began to form, largely centered around myself, Stahg, and a handful of other commanding officers from other fallen nations. We call ourselves the Faded Army, and we've recently drawn a little too much attention to ourselves."
"Hence your wounds," Kathy said. She popped open a new can of Coke and took a sip. "You said before that the lizardmen and gotrin serve the dragons. Anyone else to know about?"
"Thankfully, no," said Daggeuro, leaning back in his seat. "But those two races are positively fanatical in their devotion. Then there's specters to worry about, except for the rendermen. They seem to have evolved somewhat, formed their own tribes on a scale that matches our own. They do not attack faerie anymore."
"Any major victories for our side," Byron asked, subtely implying that he and Kathy were already on board.
"A few," Daggeuro said. "In the three decades we've been at war, I have personally slain eight dragons. The Faded Army has taken down thirty-three total, but there are hundreds of dragons in Ether, and the nations across the ocean to the east have no organized rebellion. The east burns."
"Dear lord," Kathy croaked, shaking her head. She paused, then asked, "What about the Gaedling Goblin?"
"Dead," the kennin warrior said flatly. "Killed six years ago when he led most of the Hurik Clan into battle against a gather of blue dragons in the northern territories of the western world. They won, killed all four dragons, but he was among their casualties. The goblins have all taken to hiding since then."
"Jesus," Byron rasped, lighting another cigarette.
"Many friends have fallen," Daggeuro said, draining off his drink. He glared at the empty mug vacantly. "The wee folken have been our salvation. They openly defy the dragons at all turns, keeping the focus off of the Faded. Without them, we would not have The Boneyard."
"What's that," Kathy asked.
"A city hidden underground in the western Callins Plains. Aboveground it appears as a final resting place for every dragon, lizardman and gotrin slain in battle, their bodies dumped off as a warning, a reminder to the wyrms that faeriekind will fight back. Over the last few years, they have become leery of coming near. Already there are legends spreading among them about The Boneyard. No solid truth can be descried of it either, for the laws of keeping unconcentrated populations are applied to their own servants as well."
"Seems a stupid way to go about ruling over the Plane," Byron commented. "Kind of crazy, really."
"That is why I believe as so many in the Faded Army do, that the dragons are not doing this entirely of their own free will. This new god of theirs commands it, and even if what it demands seems crazed, they do not question it." The trio sat quietly sipping their drinks for a few minutes, Byron refilling for himself and the kennin once more before Kathy asked the question hanging just out of reach until the right moment.
"So, how can we help," she asked.