The Dragon Knight and the Light

by D. C. Clemens

  I told Eu-Sook to find out whether anyone knew the whereabouts of their headmistress. This started a ripple of murmuring among them. It was apparently the headmistress who sparked the evacuation of the barracks, but no one had yet seen her leave the academy grounds. An upsurge of discussion occurred between my group and the students about what to do next and who we even were. I wanted to go to the southern entrance to check if anyone there knew what happened to the headmistress, but someone tapping my shoulder interrupted the endeavor.

  I turned around to see Ghevont, who said, “Mercer, there’s still a faint nismerdon aura coming from the academy.”

  I nodded.

  Then, as Ghevont and I made my way up through the jumbled throng, I heard Clarissa say, “Look! Hanying and a couple other people just turned the corner! Mercer!? Where are you going? Mercer!”

  I jogged up the thirty foot wide entry, bracing against the violent heat that engrossed everything within the walls. The long, two-story structure ten yards to my left was popping and cracking as its roof sank closer to the ground. The two still upright towers three hundred feet away looked like inert twisters of fire. In the five seconds I stood watching, the western pagoda tilted much more sharply than it had been. It only stopped collapsing when its top two floors crashed into its southern neighbor. A temporary support, of course.

  “Where do you sense the aura?” I asked.

  “Straight ahead.”

  A dozen strides later and ten guardsmen, the riders, a huffing Hanying, and an unknown number of curious students—who may or may not have heard of my title—joined my companions in search for this trace of nismerdon magic. Some of the students tried getting answers and our life stories, so I asked Clarissa to quiet them and keep an eye out for danger if they wanted to continue having their own life story. That got them quieter, though they still made the bashful Hanying explain what he knew.

  Thirty yards from the disintegrating towers, Ghevont said, “The aura must be underground.”

  I looked back and called for Hanying. When he came up to me, I asked, “What’s the best way to get to the lower levels?”

  “Oh, uhh, over there.” He pointed at the ground in the center of the three large piles of sweltering rubble. “Part of the floor is a large lift that can stop at every main level.”

  “Let’s see if it still works.”

  We went around the tilted tower to cross into the domain it and its partners surrounded. With the eastern tower already little more than a pile of embers, and the other pagodas dropping their rubble away from the center, the indented outline of the lift largely remained free of debris. Given that the square lift extended forty feet at every side, there was plenty of room to fit our entire group. Eight metal posts as tall as a human and sporting gears and a handle were planted on the lift’s corners and just outside of them. According to Hanying, the more that were cranked, the faster the lift dropped or rose.

  Captain Shao ordered a pair of guardsmen to take two outer cranks while Odet requested for Hanying and three other students to turn the cranks on the lift. However, even with six of the eight cranks being applied, the lift did not go much faster than a foot every two seconds. It thus took a laborious minute to pass the first two deserted levels. Seconds after the lift started its descent into the lowermost tier, I and others not casting protective wards crouched to get a peek into the chamber, which stretched to the north.

  Despite not being too far away from the heated light on the surface, every turn of the handle darkened our pit ever more, so I could therefore distinguish a different kind of light emitting from the third chamber. This befouled glow was spoiled by an all too familiar veil that revealed itself after a drop of a few more feet. The nismerdon barrier blocked a space fifty feet wide by twenty feet high. Extending two hundred feet behind the barrier was a huge lab filled with academic apparatuses, tomes, scrolls, and smaller details the meager candlelight could not expose.

  What their flickers did divulge was the overturned condition most tables, shelves, and the objects they once bore now lied in. At the end of the room, a trio of crudely fashioned tunnels began at the end of the room. A full-grown troll could fit through each one. Slithered over much of the floor and walls were greenish-brown, root-like tendrils, which gathered and coiled over the withered bodies of humans and animals, including a pair of midsized trolls that shared the rawboned appearance of the other victims. Going by their clothing, at least half of the humans must have been academy scholars.

  Livelier than the corpses were the six silhouettes near the nismerdon barrier. At each end of the barrier stood the twin-like blondes of the Alslana attack, though this time they wore the academy’s red and black caster robes. The woman’s once short hair had also grown to be twice as long, though her counterpart’s golden curls still looked more girlish. Every spasm of a candle’s flame changed the number I guessed their ages to be. Something between a mature looking twenty-something to a youthful forty-something.

  I couldn’t spot my brother among them, but the armor-plated man that accompanied him in Dulcet made himself known. Rather than wielding two battle-axes as before, he held one giant double headed battle-axe. Without his helmet on, I could tell that the color of his skin was an abnormally dark shade of black, more than hinting at the barely contained corruption raiding his soul. Scruffy stubble and shallow wrinkles helped define his face. Maybe it was how the candlelight struck his eyes, but they gave off a yellowish shine as they peered through a ward of translucent blackness.

  I could only assume the tall, lean woman with long ashen hair and wearing a robe of white and gold was the headmistress. With a shoulder turned to us, she spoke with the killer of Odet’s mother. The princess must have recognized him as such, but she remained composed. He only listened to Mio as he stared at a figure sitting on a chair that looked far too small for it. When this figure wearily rose from its seat, I realized no human-sized chair could properly accommodate its size. While not much broader than the average man, the eight foot tall being certainly loomed above him.

  Its tattered mantle of gray blanketed much of its wasted form in its earliest steps. However, as the hunched presence hobbled its way toward us, more of its distinct physique entered the hazy light cast by three or four of us on the lift. The first thing I noted was the greenish-brown pigment of both feet. I expected to see a bizarre shape to these appendages, but they bore a striking likeness to human feet, if missing their toenails and caked with a lichen texture. This uncultivated layer of plant-skin covered the curved branch-like fingers and hands as well.

  Atop a body wrapped with cloth and nismerdon growths was a hairless human head, which partially sprouted the decaying verdure that encrusted everything else. Its nigh lipless mouth stayed agape during its graceless walk, allowing a glimpse into a void devoid of teeth. Since it never blinked, I assumed the creature possessed no eyelids. Instead, the lower edge of its brow slumped over the upper eyeballs and acted as a way for the eyes not to bulge outward too much. Regardless, the eyes matched those of a human, as well as the nose and ears. In a way, these humanoid features made it appear all the more horrific and singular.

  Its clumsy gait stopped five feet from the ward. Hardly moving its jaw, a harsh, hot whisper said, “Veknu Milaris.” If the words were spoken any louder, its voice would surely have cracked like a dehydrated man in the middle of an intense shiver.

  As I walked closer to the ward, Clarissa cleared her throat and asked, “Is that a good idea?”

  “Just be ready for anything,” I answered.

  “That doesn’t really help,” mumbled Gerard.

  Stepping off the lift, I came to a halt five feet from the barrier. Everyone else stayed at least a foot behind me, ready for that anything.

  Drooping its head, the mixed creature said, “I’m pleased we found a moment to talk, young Veknu Milaris.” His acidic voice already sounded more ghastly than I remembered. “As you can imagine, the old giants despise the beasts your kind can summon with blo
od and soul, but whilst I too curse their flame and wings, I can still admire their gifts.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Ahh, I applaud you for using ‘who’ and not ‘what.’ Most tend to consider me as something more, or something less, than a ‘who.’”

  “We found growths similar to yours on an Advent body. I’m guessing she would end up like you if they kept on growing.”

  “No, far too often the fates of those bequeathed a nismerdon seed is to become one with rock and water. Few mature as far as I.”

  “Are you Thanatis?”

  “No. That would be the man in the brown cloak. I relinquished human names when that seed twisted me into what you see before you. I am part of them now. In a way, I am greater than them. I am their omen. That is what you will call me, if you must call me anything.”

  “Very well, Omen, tell me why we’re talking instead of fighting.”

  “Because war against one another will accomplish nothing. Orda is in danger, dragon knight, and we are her only hope. Thus, even if you succeed in stopping us, then all you’ve done is seal her fate.”

  “What kind of danger? Who threatens Orda?”

  Omen huffed out of his nose. “Choose from fiends, dragons, gods, fools, and monsters from realms yet unknown. A faction of giants fled from the ancient war with dragons. They wished to return home once the war ended, but the unappeasable dragons would not let it end. They condemned all giants to die. The last of their kind were forced to hide on this alien world, a world that enfeebled every new generation. They retreated into long, deep slumbers with the hope of someday reclaiming their world, only to find their home scorched and infested by the lowest of fiends! My world will not fall to the whims of dragons and fiends.”

  “And a few giants ruling Orda will solve that problem?”

  Omen produced a gripe that sounded like an old, sick dog growling. “Even at full strength my masters cannot survive on Orda as immortals. Their long slumbers come at a price, and few beings can flourish peacefully in a foreign realm. They may live for a thousand years or more, but their flesh and spirits will eventually crumble, so they cannot expect to rule Orda forevermore. However, they do desire to leave a legacy that will survive them. A gift will be bestowed on Orda’s people once their power has recovered, a gift many will refuse in their shortsightedness. Thus the sacrifices of a few will be necessary to save the many.”

  Perhaps worried I would overlook the next obvious question, Ghevont asked, “What is the nature of this gift?”

  “Ah, the son of Riskel…” Omen so badly looked as though he wanted to close his eyes in contemplation, but he couldn’t manage it. “The gift of supremacy.” He looked back at me. “Humans are weak. Great casters can still fall to a spider’s bite or a ten foot fall, but once we seed this world, the frail will perish and the strong will be blessed. The offspring of the blessed will ascend higher still. In a century or two humans will approach immortality itself. The enriched prana of these ascended humans will cast spells that will fell great eidolons and dragons. No longer will humans need concern themselves with the peril of other realms.”

  “That peril will come to you once the other realms realize your plan,” I said.

  “That will require them to believe we are a true danger to their own realms, and by the time they conclude such a thing is possible, it will be far too late. Soon every human will beg for the power we will offer to those who join us. They will fight the invaders with us. Because of you, Veknu Milaris, convincing others to see their own salvation will require more sacrifices. We intended for a slower, quieter progression, but you have forced our hand. Regardless, you can atone for your mistake. Leave the city. Go to your family. Keep your friends alive. Grow up. Train for the wars that will defend this world, not doom it.”

  The longer he spoke, the more I perceived what once must have been Omen’s true voice. Not all the layers of depravity dissolved around his throat, but no doubt I heard tinges of… fraught sincerity. Under the crassness of Omen’s raspy breathing was a melodic cadence that might have swayed me to consider the half-human’s view if I was alone. However, with everyone behind me, particularly Odet, I had to dissuade myself from taking Omen’s offer to flee. Why was he even making me one?

  “I expected an offer to join my brother, Omen. Or I suppose you expect the offer to run away to stand a better chance at being heeded. Why give me this chance?”

  “Because our true enemies will never hand you such a chance. Because I do not wish for my family to face dragon fire. Because I think you might understand the difference between doing what is necessary and doing what is spiteful. Despite what you may think, we do not treat lives lightly. We cannot. Can you feel every despairing emotion of every being you kill? My masters do, and I share that burden with them. Every yowl and every tear becomes etched into our minds. Your final misery becomes one of countless for us. A price we must pay.”

  “Enough!” said Odet. “Even if every word you say is true, then all I can do is pity you the more. No one can go through so much planning, experimentation, exploitation, and murder without justifying their sins in equal amounts. I never doubted you had your reasons for your unacceptable actions, but that only makes you far more dangerous than any mindless fiend terrifying a village. Just because a single human is not as strong as an eidolon or a dragon does not make one weak. Succumbing to fear is weak.”

  “Fear? No, young princess, we are reacting to pain, to loss, just as you are. Do not pretend you fight for all of Orda when it is your mother’s death that inflames your heart. You would not be fighting us if she were still alive, if you believed us to be the distant concern of another nation. Heartbreak, grief, torment, revenge—these are the true architects of human history, from the poorest peasant to the mightiest kings. You have fallen into this same cycle, princess. We will break it… You too may help us.”

  “Your madness must truly be indelible if you believe we will forgive the suffering you caused to help you bring more of it.”

  “Is it madness to save Orda? Your kind sends thousands of people to die to retain a piece of land, or to answer an insult. We are the same, holy princess, the only difference is our war will empower the world. Your wars s-send young warriors to die for colored stones under a mountain. But be b-blind if you wish… Protect a weak world that can be c-conquered by f-fouler forces at any day… Die f-”

  Omen clutched his chest and dropped to a knee, coughing and gagging from the depths of his stomach, if he still had such a thing. Thanatis and the big guy flanked Omen as his revolting fracas persisted.

  “Strengthen the ward,” said Thanatis. “It’s time to leave. The line in the sand was drawn long ago.”

  The racket Omen was making subsided as the blondes darkened their ward. Two blurred silhouettes aided the struggling Omen to his malformed feet and led him to the end of the room, toward the central tunnel entrance.

  “Do, do we attack?” asked Clarissa.

  Before I answered, one of the female students cried out something in her tongue. She ran up to the ward shouting more native words. She wanted to bang on the ward, but Gerard reacted quickly enough to prevent her from making physical contact with her fists. In spite of not being able to hear her former student, Mio’s opaque form seemed to take notice of the young woman, staring right at her before turning around to amble away.

  As the green knight warned everyone to not touch the barrier, I walked to the lift and said, “They’ll be gone by the time we break through the ward. Anyway, if we’re going to fight, it should be in a place with a little more wiggle room.”

  With students presenting distressed expressions and the guardsmen looking relieved that I did not want to chase the half-breed monster, the lift started its climb to the surface.

  “M-Mercer?” said Hanying’s voice behind me. Settling my eyes on his, he asked, “What e-exactly are we up against?”

  I wondered something similar. Omen’s reasons for the Advent’s heinous endeavors did n
ot do much to change my perception of them, but I had to admit his proposal to abandon this battle tempted the side of me that needed my friends to stay alive. I realized that we were up against cultists that believed in what they were doing so strongly that they could almost convince someone they kidnapped and tortured to forget about fighting them, to only care about their own selfish compulsions.

  “You are not warriors,” I told Hanying. “You can still leave if you don’t wish to fight against beings from lost realms and your headmistress.”

  Overhearing us, Odet said, “Whatever you do, I ask that you help as many people as possible. If you fight, then focus on supporting soldiers and guardsmen with defensive and healing spells. If you decide to leave, then help others evacuate.”

  The princess’ inborn leadership shined through as the poised woman continued clarifying to Hanying and his troubled peers about their place in the upcoming clash. If only she knew she needed to stress my own place in the battle as well.

  Chapter Six

  As the lift neared the surface, Clarissa asked the general group, “Where do we go now?”

  In response, Gerard asked, “Ghevont, can you still track the nismerdon auras? Where are they?”

  “Ah, the auras.” He rose his staff a little higher. “Yes, they are within my range, except the original three auras have each divided in two. There are now six burrowing under the city. Omen’s aura has been suppressed, but I can still discern its presence, so seven auras in total.”

  “We should follow the nearest one,” said Odet. “Where is it?”

  “The southernmost aura seems to be closest to our position. Of course, I’m estimating its distance by the strength of the aura, so it’s possible I’m mistaken. Should you wa-”

  “South it is.”

  “We should be careful not to get too close,” I said. “We can’t beat a nismerdon unless we already have considerable reinforcements, something we don’t have yet.” With five feet left to go, I took the initiative to jump to the surface. Others quickly followed me to an academy no longer wreathed in a deafening inferno. Wood proceeded to burn, but with half as much ferocity in both brightness and resonance. “Eu-Sook, it’s time you and your riders summon your griffins. Stay over our group and keep us informed about anything noteworthy.”