by Ben Hale
. . . Your will is mine . . .
The voice of the Dark carried a disturbing timbre, like the dark laughter of a murderer on a cold winter night. But the voice faded as the Dark again withered. Even that brief touch sent a shudder through Draeken’s body. The voice threaded into his consciousness, subverting his will, and Draeken was shocked to find himself terrified.
He clenched a fist as the Dark withered, his vision returning to the battlefield and the fiend standing in the opening. A kraka. He knew the name because the Dark had provided the name, because for one small moment their thoughts were linked.
The towering warrior had once been a dakorian, and still had the bone armor over much of his body. But the bone armor had gone stark white, his flesh turning black, like paper pulled from a fire. He carried a giant obsidian sword, the blade hanging behind him, still inside the Gate.
It did not move or look at Draeken, the disturbing stillness a contrast to the raging conflict on the top of the citadel. Shouts and cries, angry and pained, and still the thrum in the Gate mounted. The kraka captain stood like a statue, an appendage to the Dark.
“The cleansing worked,” Serak said. “The Dark knows it cannot enter Lumineia.”
“How do we claim the army of fiends?” Draeken asked.
“You must speak to the Dark,” Serak urged. “Subdue its will, and the army will yield to you.”
Draeken stepped in front of the kraka and the eyes dropped to him. Red and glowing, they seemed to burn through him like a branding iron. Draeken sneered and reached out with his consciousness.
I require the fiend army for—
YOU THINK TO CONTROL ME?
The voice returned like thunder in his skull, mighty and everlasting, the voice of a mind so vast Draeken could not comprehend its power. The Dark possessed an entire world, and who was he to offer challenge? He was an insect demanding a monstrous dragon to be its servant.
Bound by fear, Draeken trembled in place as more krakas appeared, followed by the smaller creatures. Quare. Once human and krey, the Dark had twisted them into spindly creatures, their bodies muscular and humanoid, but lacking any semblance of humanity. Their features were sunken onto their skulls, their fingers like hooked claws.
Draeken wanted to shrink before the Dark, to flee and never hear that terrible voice again. But three other minds were touched to his own, his three generals. The warmind, the assassin, the devourer. Their will was his own, and with their aid he gathered his courage, finally understanding why Serak had planned four generals.
More fiends poured from the opening, and large doglike creature appeared. Sipers. They were the size of lions, their skin shaped in thousands of triangular scales. Rising and flaring red, the beasts snarled and spread outward, circling Draeken.
Distantly he was aware of the raging battle, of Fire and Water attempting to reach him, but the thickening ranks of fiends forced them back. Serak stepped to the fragments and forced them to retreat. But still the Dark Gate vibrated, the cracks widening. The ranks closed about Draeken until he stood alone, a solitary figure in a sea of black and red creatures. They snarled inches from his flesh, only his will keeping them at bay.
The dragons leapt to the wall and launched into the sky, the Order members fleeing in terror. Still the fiends came, pouring from the Gate and filling the breadth of the fortress, spilling into the interior and crossing to the outer fortifications. Still they came, expanding and taking positions. Thousands. But the Gate continued to vibrate, and the cracks were deep and chunks began to fall off the sides.
“We must stop the curse!” Serak’s voice was distant.
The Dark’s will crashed against Draeken, mightier than a hurricane and just as fearsome, rending his vaunted strength to shreds. If he fell to the Dark, he would be destroyed, and the rest of Lumineia would suffer a brutal fate. He needed a fourth general, but it was too late for that, and he could only fight or fall.
Your army is mine, Draeken snarled.
The Dark recoiled, and Draeken growled in savage pride. The Dark was mightier than any normal being, but Draeken was the fragment of Power, and before him the Dark would kneel. He took a step forward, and the krakas parted, allowing him to reach the Gate.
“No!” Serak’s voice barely touched his ears. “Do not touch the Gate!”
Draeken ignored him, and reached to the Gate, his fingers passing into the silver liquid. He reached to the world on the other side, and imagined all he could do if he possessed the Dark as his servant . . .
YOU THINK TO MASTER ME IN MY OWN WORLD?
The thundering voice crashed through his body, ripping his pride to shreds, a thousand times stronger than it had been before. Draeken instinctually realized the Dark’s strength was diminished through the Gate. He lurched back, sweat beading his neck and forehead, and the fiends leaned in, eager for the kill.
Claws grasped his arms and throat, but he burst to his feet and they recoiled once again. They fell back into their ranks, all facing him, and he realized the truth. The Dark had twisted the army and reshaped them to its will. He’d even taken their minds. But instinct could not be taken, and when the Gate opened, the fiends saw the opportunity to escape Kelindor. The moment they passed through, Draeken became their master.
The fiends poured from the portal, sipers, quare, kraka captains, and giant skorpians. Draeken’s army. His weapon of victory. He sensed their will, their desire for blood and battle, and he gave them a goal. At the base of a mountain a conveniently placed army had come, and they needed to be humbled.
“Draeken!” Serak’s voice seemed distant. “The Gate will not last! We must stop Erisay’s Magic!”
But Draeken could not hear, his thoughts weighed by the weight of so many minds. He gloried in his newfound power, reveled in the might at his fingertips. No army could defeat him. No warrior could defy his rule. And the fiends poured through the Dark Gate, driving the allied vanguard back.
“And my reign will be endless,” Draeken said.
A hand caught his elbow and yanked him about. The anger was quick and vengeful, and he raised a hand to kill the offender. Then he recognized Serak, the man’s eyes wide with panic and fear.
“Draeken!” Serak shouted in his face. “If we do not stop Erisay, the Dark Gate is going to shatter!”
All at once Draeken saw the top of the fortress. The fragments fought for their lives but they were isolated, and half their allies were dead. The waves of fiends hardly paused in their rush out the gates and down the outer road. But it was the Dark Gate that commanded attention.
The trembling arch emitted a whine as if in pain. Cracks marred the stone, and with each passing second the cracks expanded, the wounds threatening to destroy the entire arch. Tens of thousands of fiends had entered Lumineia in just the last few minutes, but they were a fraction of Draeken’s army.
“Where is Erisay?” Draeken demanded.
“She fled with her daughter,” Serak shouted. “I’m trying to hold the Gate together but her charm is still building!”
Serak’s features were drawn, sweat beading his forehead. He grimaced and then reached for the Dark Gate, holding it together by force of will. Draeken leapt into the air and soared over the conflict, ignoring the fragments and the others. Several launched weapons in his directions but he swatted them aside, his gaze searching the battlements for his target.
He spotted the two dark elves on the battlements, Erisay fighting a group of Order guards as she ushered her daughter towards safety. Draeken dropped into their midst, sending the Order members scattering.
“It’s time your magic came to an end,” he said, advancing on the queen.
The dark elf queen conjured two daggers of sound magic, the orange blades shimmering in the light. “You cannot stop it,” she said.
“But you can,” Draeken said.
The shadows behind the two woman reached out, muscled arms wrapping around Melora and Erisay. Wounded as she was, Melora could not evade, but Erisay sliced at th
e hands and twisted out of reach. Then she sent a dagger spinning at Draeken’s chest.
Draeken swatted the weapon aside, but the dagger burst apart, and turned into a piercing wail. He grimaced at the assault on his senses and she threw another dagger, and then another, the weapons hurtling at his body. He knocked two aside but the sound just got louder. Then the fourth plunged into his body, and the sound magnified tenfold.
He laughed as he used his mind magic to focus his hearing. The din of battle, the shouts of the dying, the roars of dragons, all became muted, like he were listening from underwater. Then he began to advance again, causally pulling the daggers from his body. They clattered on the stone at his feet.
“End your magic on the Dark Gate,” he said. “Or I will end you.”
“I’m not afraid to die,” she said.
“You should be,” Draeken said. “For I am not a normal death.”
He used a spark of fire and snapped it like a whip. Erisay leapt back but the fire coiled around her leg and then fastened to the stone at her feet. Draeken sent three more, the ropes holding her fast. Then they began to pull her apart. The dark elf queen cried out as the fire bonds pulled, lifted her off the parapet.
“Do you have any idea how much pain I can cause you?” Draeken demanded. “End your magic, and I’ll spare your life.”
“My life does not belong to me,” Erisay spoke through clenched teeth. “It belongs to my people.”
“Mother,” Melora shouted, still bound in arms of shadow. “Just do what he asks!”
“I give my life for my people,” Erisay said.
“But would you give your daughter’s life?” Draeken asked.
He raised his arm and a trident of light formed in his hands. He pointed it at Melora and leaned into the blow. The three points turned as sharp as broken glass and he pointed them at the woman’s heart.
“End it now!” Draeken barked.
The whine from the Dark Gate continued to mount and Serak’s scream was audible as he fought to hold the Dark Gate from shattering. Melora called to Erisay but Draeken saw the truth on her face. She would not do it even to save her daughter.
“She clearly means nothing to you,” Draeken snarled, and then leaned into the killing blow.
Erisay cast a dagger and sliced the bonds on her arms. As she fell, she twisted her body, and fell between the trident and her daughter, the trident piercing her heart instead of Melora’s. Surprised, Draeken retreated, the bonds holding both women evaporating.
“Mother!” Melora cried, falling to her knees to cradle Erisay’s head. “Why would you do that?”
“I give my life for my people,” Erisay said. “And my daughter.”
“You would die for her?” Draeken asked, struck by the sacrifice. “Even after all the times she betrayed you?”
“A family is worth any sacrifice,” Erisay said.
She reached up and touched her daughter’s cheek. Then she smiled, and her body relaxed in death. Draeken stared as Melora cried her anguish, unable to pull his eyes from the sight of Erisay’s final act. Then another sound touched his ears and on instinct he turned.
The Dark Gate trembled, the cracks expanding across the arch. Serak abandoned his efforts and leapt back, just as the silver light shimmered to purple, and then sparked into thousands of tiny shards.
And the Dark Gate shattered.
Chapter 21: Fallen
Fire fought for his life on the summit of Xshaltheria, fiends dying on all sides. The Dark Gate lay in ruins, shattered into oblivion, but forty thousand fiends had exited before it had been broken, and Fire roared his challenge as the waves of dark creatures crashed against him. With fireflesh wrapped around his body, he charged through the horde and picked up Lira. In his other hand he picked up one of the dwarves. Rearing back, he hurled them to the outer wall, where Water caught them.
“We have to go!” he bellowed.
“What about Rynda?” Water shouted back.
The attempt to destroy the Gate had succeeded, but the fiends were already pouring down the mountain. Shouts and screams came from the valley, barely audible over the sounds of combat on top of the hanging fortress.
Rynda had lost most of her trolls, and both of Erisay’s guards were dead. She’d managed to get her daughter to the outer wall, but the second dwarven engineer had been torn apart by the fiends. Rynda and Mox fought with unsurpassed valor, their weapons cleaving through the fiends as they raced for the gates. Then Gorewrathian dropped behind them and his jaws snapped over Mox. One moment the First Blade was sprinting and fighting, the next he was inside the dragon’s maw.
Rynda snarled her hatred and turned, but Fire struck the stone, sending a blast of flames outward, knocking fiends away and allowing him to reach Rynda. He rushed to her and grabbed her arm. Wrapped in spitting and damaged fireflesh, he was as large as she was, but she was stronger.
“Flee or die,” Fire said.
She bellowed her anger and turned with Fire, and the two of them sprinted for the bridge leading to the outer fortifications. Draeken had abandoned them and taken his dragon mount to lead the attack, while Serak stood before the shattered Gate, on his knees. Fire yearned to turn about and kill him, but there were too many foes.
They sprinted across the drawbridge and then turned aside, where the surviving dwarf had used his magic to create a thin path on the cliff. Fire jumped off the road and landed on the path. He wobbled and got an eyeful of the drop before he managed to catch a knob and push forward. Rynda landed with more poise, spreading blood on the mountainside as she pushed by. A handful of fiends tried to make the jump but the dwarf pushed the ledge back into the mountain and they fell to their deaths.
“We need to get back to the army,” Water called, and they hurried to descend back the way they’d come.
Melora appeared, cradling the lifeless Erisay, and Fire groaned when he saw her body. Rynda accepted the body with gentleness, tears forming in her eyes. Without a word, the others gathered around her, and Melora spoke in a whisper.
“She died to protect me.”
“You should have been the one to die,” Rynda said.
“I know,” Melora said, and then straightened. “But I will not be found again on the wrong side of this war. Please . . . allow me to stand with you.”
Rynda’s features hardened. “I’d rather take a blade to your—”
“We need to get down this mountain,” Water cut her off before she would strike Melora.
The fiends rushed about, killing with abandon. The Order guards fled, but the sipers raced after and dragged them down, tearing them apart. Draeken did not seem to notice, and their cries for aid when unheeded.
A pair of krakas entered the Xshaltheria stables. They returned with blood on their obsidian blades, and left a disturbing quiet where the horses had been bucking in their stalls. The bulk of the fiends had reached the alliance and the battle had begun. The sun touched the horizon, and with each passing hour, the light continued to brighten, revealing the chaos.
“What is happening?” Lira asked.
A claw had ripped across her arm and blood seeped from the wound. Fire paused and tried to bandage it, but her eyes fluttered, and he noticed the blood darkening her hair. She was lucky Water had been nearby, and he’d wrapped a liquid bandage around the wound on her head.
“Draeken commands the fiends,” Water said. “But I don’t think he was prepared to control them. They’re killing the Order soldiers.”
“They’re going to destroy half the alliance,” Rynda said. “But at least the Dark Gate was destroyed.”
“Only temporarily,” Melora said.
“What do you mean?” Fire asked.
“My mother shattered the stone,” Melora said. “But Serak is a stone mage, an extremely talented one. He will be able to rebuild the Gate.”
“This was for nothing?” Rynda rounded on her, and the dwarf cursed as he was nearly knocked loose.
“Watch it, troll,” he growled. �
��I’d rather not fall to my death after surviving that.”
“Our purpose was to destroy the Dark Gate,” Rynda snarled. “My people gave their lives for that. Mox gave his life for that.”
Melora passed a hand over her features. “I’m sorry, but the only way to destroy the Dark Gate for good would have been to drop the pieces into the volcano.”
Rynda reared back and punched the mountain, cursing with enough force to make even Fire wince. She cursed again, and then again. Fire saw her anger, but her hand trembled in regret and loss. Then she stabbed a finger at the dwarf.
“Get us down to the valley.”
“I’m trying,” the dwarf said.
“Try harder.”
The dwarf growled and worked the stone, forcing it to bend out of the mountainside. Many of the ladder sections were still there from before, but some had been destroyed by dragon fire. It didn’t matter. By the time the group reached the base of the mountain, the battle was over.
Fire jumped the last few feet and raced to the battle, but he slowed as it became clear most of the fiends were dead. He advanced through the battlefield, where healers rushed to care for the wounded. Five thousand krakas and sipers, and thirty thousand quare, as well as a handful of skorpians. The small army of fiends had been a quarter of the size of the alliance. In the smoke and wreckage of camps, it was clear the alliance had survived, but at a cost.
As the sun rose over the camps, clumps of scattered fiends were caught and killed. Archers and mages fired at Draeken on his dragon, forcing him to keep his distance. The black fury on his face was sufficient to make Fire smile.
“He looks angry,” he said.
“We lost thousands of troops in the time it took for us to climb down the mountain,” Water replied. “I’m the one that’s angry.”
Fire spared his brother a look, surprised by the anger on his features. Water was the calm fragment—or had been the calm one before the separation. But Water glared at Draeken with a baleful gaze.
The fiend assault had been straightforward, a charge into the heart of the camp. Fortunately the rock trolls had been at the center of the line, and they’d retreated, drawing the entire fiend army inward, allowing the cavalry and infantry to strike the flanks. The rock trolls had then turned on the fiends, shattering their ranks.