Drakenfeld Read Online Free Page A

crown, and various glaives and swords could be discerned behind the wings. The closer we came to the city, we saw families sitting in wide circles on the grass, or
beneath the shade of a cherry tree, eating picnics while their children chased each other around the tall monuments. Statues of the dead were constructed here in all sorts of poses: some with a
book underarm to lend an air of wisdom, others in full armour for a show of strength. One or two were surrounded by images of gods and goddesses, to represent how the deceased was untouchable or
blessed.
    ‘Why do they eat here,’ Leana asked, ‘around the dead?’
    ‘Just because you die doesn’t mean you get out of your family duties,’ I laughed. ‘At least not in Tryum. Besides, it’s good to keep them involved, make offerings
on their behalf, light incense to purify them.’
    She nodded approvingly at my response. Perhaps there were more similarities between the many religions of Tryum and her own tribal cults than I liked to give credit for.
    ‘These are impressive statues and buildings,’ she said.
    ‘This is where the wealthy bury their dead. For the poor, the end is not so dignified. A swift pyre for the lucky. For the not so lucky, a bloated corpse in the River Tryx is the best one
can expect.’
    ‘I am not sure I will like this place,’ Leana said. ‘I already miss Venyn.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Such differences are not good omens, spirits save us. At least in Venyn everyone had the same chance that they would end up like a bloated corpse.’
    ‘I’d suggest the ideal is for everyone to be buried in splendour.’
    ‘That would,’ Leana replied, ‘mean a lot more people having to eat out here.’
    The East Road was exactly as I remembered: first, a wide avenue of ancient poplar trees for half a mile, dappled sunlight across a busy road of traders and travellers and their
belongings. Beyond stood the rectangular barracks of the King’s Legion, King Licintius’ private guard. When Licintius first became king as a young man, before I left, there were few
soldiers in Tryum. The military was certainly out on parade today, in crests and purple tunics, their armour bright in the afternoon sun. Some were engaged in displays on horseback, busy with
training regimes that they would probably never use. Others from the City Watch were marching along the edge of the road, behind the trees, offering an intimidating presence to any who would wish
harm to the city.
    Towards the eastern fringes, on the lower slopes of the main hill, was the urban sprawl, row upon row of newly and poorly built housing. Tryum had become more heavily populated since I had
departed, and I was surprised that people could live like this. Had it always been this way?
    We passed the statues either side of the road that led to a gate into Tryum. They towered up into an azure sky and were the founding gods: Trymus and Festonia, husband and wife, and Malax, the
lord of the Underworld, who looked after the dead. Further along was a statue of Polla, the goddess of the sun and of the Sun Chamber – and to whom I gave a gentle bow.
    Up the slope, in the distance, stood some of the most important buildings in the city, where the highest echelons of society – priests, senators and King Licintius – would mix. As we
came closer to the city gates the smell was overwhelming: in addition to the strong scent of horse manure and the bitter smell of the tannery, small plumes of smoke hung above residences as the
hearths cooked food, and through the haze, way in the distance to one side, were the higher tiers and arches of the Stadium of Lentus, in which games would regularly be held, and which hadn’t
been quite completed ten years ago.
    We registered at the city gates with a young priest and an elderly censor, both of whom immediately became flustered when I gave them my name and office. They could not help me
quickly enough, yet stared suspiciously at Leana. I wondered how her Atrewen