by Ben Hale
Draeken chuckled as he advanced. “You think your defiance is honorable?” He swept a hand to the city, where fiends flooded through several breaches. The allied races had retreated to the upper boughs, and shouts came for a retreat. Thousands fled into the fortress, but the mother tree was on fire, and a deep keening came from the other trees.
“You could end this,” Elenyr said. “You know you could.”
“I could,” Draeken held her gaze. “But why would I? I stand on the verge of victory, and the world will be reshaped into my realm. Magic—and all it possesses—will belong to me.”
“It’s not yours yet,” Mind said, advancing to stand behind Elenyr.
Elenyr snorted at Mind’s brash statement. Shadow actually laughed, as did Belrisa. Draeken merely stared at Mind like he’d gone mad. Disbelief washed across his features and then hardened to anger.
“Do you not understand?” Draeken spit the words at them. “You cannot stop me! You cannot kill me! You cannot defeat me! All of you live at my will, and if I desire, I could slay you all!”
He raised his hands and hundreds of spears appeared. Some rose in lengths of fire, others in light, all hovered around Elenyr, her sons, and the dakorians. Too many to evade. Too many to block.
“When will you kneel?” Draeken demanded. “How many must I kill before you accept my rule?”
Elenyr looked skyward, and saw the sun nearing its zenith. Just a few minutes until midday, and they were out of time. She hoped Fire was ready. She shifted her feet and subtly drifted to the side. Then she sent a mental order to Mind.
“Last chance,” Elenyr said.
Draeken burst into a laugh and swept his hand at Elenyr’s collection of allies. “You have nothing that can harm me. I will crush you, and then your alliance will shatter.”
“Then I’m sorry,” Elenyr said, and then raised her voice. “Death? It’s time for you to look at me.”
Draeken blinked in confusion and turned to the assassin, but Death was already turning his head. He met Elenyr’s gaze—and leapt into a charge. He crossed the space in a burst of speed, rushing to Elenyr. But one individual stood in his path.
Plague.
“No!” Draeken roared, but the order came too late.
The scythe swung through Mimic’s body, slicing from spine to ribs. Her magic had withstood steel and shard, arrow and lance, but Death’s blade was unique, and it killed even a disease. Without uttering a sound, Plague crumpled to her knees, her body turning to dust.
“What have you done!” Draeken shrieked.
He stared in horror at the pile of dust, even as Gendor closed the gap to Elenyr. She turned ethereal and leapt backward—passing through the fragment of Mind, who raised his sword. His sword passed through her stomach and pierced Gendor’s chest.
Death fell to his knees, his scythe falling from his fingers, his cloak falling into the dirt, his cowl falling back to reveal Gendor’s stark white features and burning red eyes. Gasping for breath, he looked up to Elenyr, his fingers disintegrating to dust.
“Thank you,” he breathed.
Death faded to dust and the wind brushed him aside like a broom. The shocking kills left everyone speechless. Mind stepped free of Elenyr and she nodded her gratitude. Draeken stared at the spot of their demise.
Draeken groaned and fell to one knee, the weight of the fiend army falling upon him. He passed a hand over his face, his fingers trembling in rage. Even with many of the fiends disappearing, Draeken still struggled to carry the load.
“This place is more exciting than you described,” Belrisa said to Tardoq, who chuckled.
“You have no idea.”
Draeken clenched a fist and rose to his feet before turning to Elenyr. “That was a mistake, one for which you will be punished.” His eyes glowing with hatred as he advanced.
Chapter 41: Plummet
“Are you sure about this?” Lachonus asked uneasily.
Fire peered over the dragon’s side, a smile spreading on his features. “Doesn’t it sound like fun?”
“No,” Lachonus said.
I have to agree with him, Isray said, flapping his wings to maintain a hover. This plan is madness.
“Mine usually are,” Fire said.
“It’s the only one we have,” Senia said, her breathing labored.
They had flown above the clouds, rising to such a height that the air was thin and all four struggled to breath. Fire carefully extricated himself from spikes on the dragon’s spine and leaned over his wing. Lachonus did the same.
“If we survive this,” Lachonus said. “I don’t ever want to follow another of your plans.”
“If we survive, I won’t either,” Fire said.
They stood side by side, and Fire checked the pack he’d fastened onto Lachonus’s back. Bound with leather straps, the pack resembled a long cylinder, with rigid handles that extended forward, so Lachonus could hold them for stability.
“You ready?” Fire asked.
He laughed nervously. “Can anyone be ready to jump off a perfectly good dragon from several thousand feet in the air?”
Fire glanced to the sky. “We’re out of time. Let’s do this.”
“Nothing good ever comes from saying that,” Senia said.
“See you at the bottom,” Fire said with a grin.
“If we aren’t flattened into oblivion by the impact.” Lachonus eyed the drop and shuddered.
“Trust me,” Fire said, and jumped. “It will work!”
Lachonus drew in a breath, looked to Senia, and then jumped. Fire turned his head downward and squinted through the blasting wind. He fell freely, quickly accelerating as he plummeted through the clouds.
“She was right!” Lachonus shouted as he fell. “This is madness!”
The fear in his voice matched the thudding in Fire’s chest, and Fire realized that for the first time he was afraid. Water had been right, and with his reduced magic, this attempt was as likely to get them killed as get them inside the fortress of Xshaltheria.
He closed his eyes and fought the tremble in his fingers. He was weak, not broken, and despite the separation, his magic would keep him alive. Or he would be dead. He gathered his courage and fought the burgeoning panic.
They breached the clouds and Fire lost all sense of direction, except down, because he could feel the earth reaching for his body, like it wanted to drag him to a crushing demise. The clouds passed in a blur and the wind whipped at Fire’s cloak, the material snapping above his head before abruptly ripping free. Lachonus flailed nearby, struggling to keep his feet pointed downward. The clouds came to an end and the pair burst into the open.
Directly beneath them, Xshaltheria approached at shocking speed. Their tiny forms were quickly noticed by Gorewrathian, which sat on the lip of the volcano. He released a below of warning and leapt into the air, fire kindling in his throat.
“It’s going to be close!” Fire shouted.
He extended his hands but the motion caused him to spin. He used bursts of fire from his fingers to help stabilize his fall. The surface of the fortress approached and he sucked in a breath, cringing at the approaching impact. Then he brought his arms into his chest just as they streaked past the battlements—and plunged into the central vent.
Fire pointed downward and released a blast of fire from his hands. Above him, the pack he’d crafted for Lachonus did the same, the flames exploding downward and filling the vent that passed from the top of the fortress to the base.
Fire strained to push the fire downward, the superheated current of flames slowing their descent. The fortress was tall, but arresting their plummet required all his strength, and they gradually began to slow.
“Brace yourself!” he bellowed.
He shoved every ounce of fire he possessed down the vent. They passed through the opening at the base of the column and entered the great chamber at the base of the citadel. They fell the last hundred feet through the flames Fire had conjured and slammed into the ground, waves
of fire exploding outward.
The impact drove Fire to his knees, the explosion scattering fiends like leaves caught in a cyclone. They were tossed in all directions, and tumbled over the edge of the platform. Their shrieks were lost in the roar of fire and flame, their bodies falling into the magma of the volcano.
Fire groaned as he stood, his body aching. He stumbled to the side, grimacing in pain and sharp relief. Then he noticed Lachonus. The man was on his hands and knees, the pack on his back spurting flames. Wincing, Fire closed the gap and reached for the soldier, and then heard him laughing.
“Are you well?” Fire asked.
“I can’t believe that worked,” Lachonus said.
Fire extinguished the magic on the man’s back. “That was the easy part.”
“The easy part?” Lachonus grunted as he stood. “We just dropped from five thousand feet into a hole barely ten feet across and landed on a platform filled with fiends hanging above a live volcano.”
Fire grinned. “Like I said, the easy part.”
He pointed to the Dark Gate. The arch rested at the edge of the platform, the silver liquid visible behind the inferno still burning. Defiant screams came from within, suggesting the blast of fire had passed through the Gate.
“The firewall won’t last long,” Fire said. “You need to shut the Dark Gate.”
“And you?” Lachonus asked.
“I give you time,” Fire said.
He clapped Lachonus on the shoulder and then hurried to the stairs ascending to the chamber’s entrance. At the top of the stairs, howls came from the fortress, and Fire could hear the fiends rushing to reach the intruders. Fire stepped to the entrance and gathered the abundance of heat from the volcano and filled the tunnel with fire.
Fiends turned the corner at the end and charged into the flames, dying by droves. Fire stood his ground, knowing that if he failed to protect Lachonus, there would be no victory this day. Lachonus had to shut the Dark Gate, and Fire had to keep him safe until he did.
Fire cast a look over his shoulder—and then snapped around to get a better look. Lachonus had approached the Dark Gate, but a new figure had materialized on the circular platform. Crafted from light, shadow, heat, water, and mind magics, the figure resembled Lachonus, right down to the frown on his features. The mirage stood across from Lachonus.
“What’s going on?” Fire shouted.
“I don’t know,” Lachonus called back.
The soldier stepped to the side, and the golem matched the motion with exactness. Fire grimaced as a siper leapt through his firewall and his jaws clamped shut on his arm. He blasted the beast down the throat and kicked him over the edge. Then he poured his magic into the opening, strengthening the barrier against the charging fiends, who had grown so thick their bodies pressed against each other in their haste.
Fire turned back and watched Lachonus circle the mirage, and it was impossible to tell which was real, and which was replica. More disturbing, the mirage duplicated the motions of Lachonus with absolute perfection.
Lachonus closed the gap in a rush and swung, almost losing his head when the mirage attacked with the same technique. Fire sucked in his breath as the two combatants placed their swords on each other’s throats, and he realized the purpose of the sentry.
“It’s Draeken’s final defense,” he shouted.
Lachonus reached his sword out and cautiously nicked the mirage’s arm, the mirage nicking his own arm in turn. On the top corner of the Dark Gate, the black material cracked, like a blade had cut the stone.
“I think it’s linked to the Dark Gate,” Lachonus called.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fire shot over his shoulder, straining to keep the fiends at bay.
Lachonus didn’t answer, and Fire realized the truth. Draeken had laid a singular trap. To close the gate required killing the mirage—but killing the mirage required the ultimate sacrifice. Fire cursed Draeken’s tactic and called over his shoulder.
“You have to fight,” Fire called. “Draeken is powerful but not perfect. Surely he left a flaw in that thing. You can find it.”
The clang of blades indicated Lachonus had begun to duel, and Fire turned the whole of his attention to the entrance corridor. Lachonus needed time, and Fire would give it to him. As fiends poured in his direction, Fire shoved them right and left, using fire hammers to knock them over the edge of the steps. They fell past the edge of the platform and into the magma. Distantly he heard dragons roaring and Senia’s scream, but could not join their aerial duel. He had his place, and he would not be moved.
***
Senia pulled on the dragon’s spines, and Isray responded to her mental direction. The white dragon folded one wing and rolled into a dive, evading blasts of fire from two red dragons. They swung above the fortress and Senia caught a glimpse of Lachonus through the vent shaft. But there were two soldiers, fighting each other. Then Isray was forced to bank left when a volley of skorpian bolts came for his wing.
Is Lachonus battling himself? Isray asked.
“Draeken has left a golem as a defense,” she said. “But we have to keep the dragons occupied.”
Isray flew upward and twirled between Gorewrathian and Bendelinish. Superheated flames scorched the air and Senia coughed in the smoke. Isray banked out of the dive and rotated, sending a burst of icy breath at the second red. The ice coalesced on its tail as it swooped away, and then Gorewrathian was upon them, its huge form obscuring the sunlight.
You think to fight me little one?
The king’s voice was mocking, the fire pouring from its maw and reaching for Isray. Senia had seen it coming, and directed Isray upward, out of the path of the second red that sought to cut them off.
You are almost a child. The king gave a sinister chuckle. If you were any younger, your snout would still have fragments of shell.
I’m old enough to survive against you, Isray retorted.
You have the oracle on your back, Gorewrathian replied. And she is the sole reason your flesh is not burning as you plummet to your death.
The king’s words pricked the dragon’s pride and Senia sensed the dragon’s intent. She shouted a warning, but the beast whirled in the air, lifting its claws to strike at Gorewrathian. The king’s own claws raked deep furrows in the white dragon’s body, and the second red scorched Isray’s wings. Isray leapt away, flapping for altitude.
“Will you stop letting them bait you?” Senia winced as she examined the wounds. “He’s just trying to get you to fight him.”
I am a dragon of Lumineia! Isray roared.
“You’re going to be a dead dragon if you don’t listen to me.” She turned her head to watch the two dragons giving chase. “You’re faster than them both, but if you tangle again, they’re going to rip your head from your body—and currently I’m riding on your neck.”
She sensed the dragon’s arrogance warring with Rake’s wisdom, the bonding of the two eventually cooling the dragon’s bloodlust. Isray turned his head and bellowed a warning at the two dragons, the great reds responding in kind.
“Get low and fast,” she said. “I know just where to take them.”
Isray did as requested, and folded his wings. The white dragon dropped to the earth and banked north, along the river through the valley. Isray converted the height into speed and hurtled toward the foothills. Skorpians spears were launched in their direction but fell short, the white dragon’s speed preventing any from striking.
Senia reached over the dragon’s neck and to the river water. A simple charm lifted the river in plumes of steam that billowed upward, through the ranks of marching fiends and filling the lower valley. Gorewrathian chuckled at the effort.
You cannot hide from me.
Who says I want to hide? Isray retorted.
Senia directed the white dragon into the foothills of the mountain, and then south, banking around the valley. They flew so close to the mountain cliffs that their passage sent stones and leaves bouncing downhill. The wind
through the valley picked up the clouds of steam Senia had created and pushed them to the side, into Isray’s path. Ahead, the cliffs and crags of the mountains gradually disappeared from view, and Isray flapped for altitude.
“No,” Senia said, a grim smile spreading on her features. “Go into the fog.”
I cannot see, he replied.
“I will be your eyes,” Senia said.
The dragon reluctantly continued his path, and Senia closed her eyes, mentally directing the white dragon into the mist. A cliff rose up on their right, and they turned inward and up, sweeping through a narrow pass and then rising to an escarpment that resembled a blade. Invisible behind a curtain of mist and fog, she guided Isray through the cliffs and crags before bursting into open air.
“Now!” she shouted.
Isray flared his wings wide, slowing and turning him into a flip. Bendelinish came through the mist. He’d gone slow enough to avoid the crags, but his body clipped the knifelike escarpment. He roared in pain and rose through the fog, directly under Isray.
The white dragon dropped onto the red dragon’s back, his claws grasping his wings. He leaned down and poured frost breath onto the wing joints, the wings growing brittle. The dragon roared its fury—and crashed into the mountainside.
Frozen solid, the wing joints shattered, and the dragon fell into the fog. A thousand feet he fell, the impact driving the life from his body. Isray roared his victory just as Gorewrathian came through the fog and hovered a short distance from Isray.
A fool’s death, he snarled. But I’ve lived long enough to know every trick of dragon combat. You cannot defeat me, not with the oracle, not with anyone. You are but a hatchling, and I am the king of dragonkind—
A deep groan drew all eyes upward. When Bendelinish had struck the cliff, the impact had dislodged several boulders at the top. They rained down on Gorewrathian like enormous catapult stones, and one struck his back.