The Fall of Neverdark

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Beyond them, Asher went about removing the chains from Malliath’s head and limbs. The dragon, a furious-looking creature, should have attacked them all immediately. But he didn’t. Malliath appeared as content as the ranger, shrugging off the loose chains.

  “You see, Mr. Galfrey,” The Crow said, “nothing is what you think it is.”

  The revelation that Asher had been brought back to life was a struggle to comprehend, even more so when distracted by the pale beasts surrounding him.

  It wasn’t long before Asher came back into view, stepping out from behind Malliath’s head. The old ranger had donned black leathers and chainmail as he fastened his light armour into place. A dark cloak flowed out behind him, completing the menacing look.

  The torchlight exaggerated the scar across the ranger’s right cheek and Alijah noticed the fabled black-fang tattoo under his left eye.

  He really was back…

  Without a word, Asher climbed onto Malliath’s neck, where Alijah spotted a saddle strapped between the dragon’s horns: an addition that no Dragorn would ever place upon their dragon companion. Malliath flexed his wings and the pale creatures between him and Alijah shuffled forwards, distracted by the dragon’s enormous bulk.

  The rogue could see what was about to happen and the opportunity it would afford him.

  Malliath roared once and took off into the floating boulders above. Most of the rock was pushed aside by force alone, but the dragon proved nimble and weaved between the larger slabs until he and Asher had broken free of Paldora’s Fall entirely.

  The sudden take off disorientated the horned creatures and Alijah took advantage. There was a rage born in him, its origin unknown to the half-elf, but use it he did. With great speed, he dashed within arm’s reach and swiped his silvyr blade, cutting through the exposed neck of the nearest beast.

  Dropping into a roll, he came up on the other side of a spear-wielder and thrust the tip of the blade up through the creature’s armpit and into its neck. That was all the surprise he had to use before the others rounded on him with growls akin to Malliath’s.

  “Fight well, Mr. Galfrey,” The Crow said from the dais. “Your journey is to be longer than most…”

  Alijah could only glimpse the departing Crow between the beasts that came at him. They were stronger than him, but not as fast. Rather than parry their blows and jabs, the rogue evaded and weaved between them, lashing out where he could to draw blood and wear them down. It soon became clear, however, that these monsters wouldn’t tire as any man would.

  One misstep saw the end of a spear whip him across the face, turning him to the large boot of another. The force of the kick lifted him from his feet and sent him rolling down from the dais, his blade clattering against the rock. Without a breath in his lungs, he was helpless to even yell when a meaty hand gripped the back of his neck.

  Being lifted and brought face to face with one of these things was made all the more unpleasant by its rotten breath. Through the slit in its obsidian helmet, Alijah could see two reflective orbs staring back at him like a piece of meat. With its free hand, the creature raised its sword, ready to run him through.

  Again, that rage welled up in him, a rare emotion that he had experienced only once or twice in his whole life. Alijah brought up his leg and thrust it into the creature’s sword arm, preventing it from bringing the tip to bear. Using his hands, the half-elf grabbed one of its horns and tore the helmet free from its demonic face.

  Exposed to the light, the creature shut its eyes as tightly as possible and yelled out in a language Alijah couldn’t even begin to understand. Favouring the protection of its eyes apparently, the beast released the rogue who wasted no time driving his silvyr blade up into the soft skin under the jaw. The weight of the falling creature forced Alijah to bend with it or risk losing the short-sword.

  With three of their own dead at his feet, Alijah had hoped that the rest of the pale skins would back off, but he had only spurred them on. They beat their stone-like chests and roared in defiance of his survival. Alijah had a roar of his own just waiting to be unleashed when he noticed the increasing number of eyes reflecting light in the tunnel.

  Like ghosts from the abyss, more of the creatures walked out of the shadows, clad in obsidian armour and wielding an array of weapons. An almost arrogant rage still lingered under the surface, as if he could take them all on and make them suffer his wrath. Thankfully, the gambler in him saw the odds stacked against him and sobered such violent emotions.

  The rogue slowly backed up, towards the hewn table, sure to keep them all in his vision. A commotion behind him told all of his senses that he was about to come under attack, but the assault never came. Alijah dared to turn around and to his amazement, standing on the table, was an old friend.

  “Hadavad!” he exclaimed.

  The mage lifted his staff and slammed it down hard into the rock. The spell on the end of his lips was lost when the staff produced a light so bright it could have been the rising sun. The pale skins roared and, in some cases, even screamed in a manner unbefitting of their ferocious appearance.

  Alijah shielded his own eyes from such an offensive light and, in so doing, spotted Galanör behind Hadavad. The elf was supporting Vighon under one arm, though his friend looked hardly with it.

  Turning away from the light, the pale skins were fleeing the magic of Hadavad’s staff, taking shelter inside the tunnel.

  “We need to get out of here!” Galanör called.

  Hadavad lifted his staff and the magic drew back into the end, leaving the dais in the low light of the torches. Alijah ran up to the table with a hundred questions etched across his face.

  Seeing Vighon’s haggard face stopped him from asking a single one of those questions.

  Galanör happily handed his care over. “He hit his head, he’ll be fine soon enough.”

  Vighon had just enough energy to stay on his feet, though Alijah’s support was still needed to give him direction.

  “Hadavad?” The half-elf said the mage’s name hoping that all of his questions would be heard.

  Hadavad jumped down from the table with a mad look about him. “Has he returned, boy?” The mage took no notice of Vighon in Alijah’s care and gripped the rogue’s arms. “Has he returned? Has Valanis been brought back?”

  Alijah wanted to answer but the roar of a dragon broke through the floating boulders and filled them all with dread. The sound of growls and metal on metal spilled out of the tunnel a moment later, the creatures’ thirst for blood renewed.

  Galanör pulled free his twin scimitars. “Follow me!”

  With no time to barter words, the four companions made their way down from the dais and into the narrow veins that spread throughout the crater. The bodies of Black Hand mages littered the ground, making Alijah’s job of getting Vighon through the maze all the harder.

  The growls of the pale-skinned creatures echoed through the rocky veins. It wasn’t long before they came charging through with their weapons brandished high. Hadavad ushered the companions on while he lingered behind and loosed a destructive spell. The boom was deafening, but it gave the monsters pause and the four of them more time to escape.

  “This way!” Hadavad pushed past and took them another way which quickly led them up to the lip of the crater.

  Galanör made the climb first and pulled Vighon up. Hadavad commanded Alijah to go next while he kept watch down the narrow ravines.

  They were all together again soon enough and crossing the rocky terrain to find their horses. It was a hard and slower climb with Vighon still nursing a sore head, but at least Hadavad was with them now, his magic an added weapon in their collective arsenal.

  “Quickly now,” Hadavad called. “Our enemy favours the dark and…” The mage let his words go, his attention fixed on the sky behind the others.

  Alijah hefted Vighon and turned back to see what had transfixed the mage. He already knew what sight would greet him.

  “Get on the horses!”
Galanör yelled.

  Alijah gestured for the mage to take his horse while he climbed onto Ned. The elf helped him get Vighon over the saddle, just as Vighon had done with Galanör, and together they rode hard for the north.

  Malliath’s flapping wings found his ears before the rogue’s eyes settled on the dragon. As the boulders floating around Paldora’s Fall shifted and moved, the light from the centre shone free into the night and caught Malliath’s dark scales. He was coming right for them.

  The dragon’s roar resounded over the land, exaggerated by the rising valley walls. Malliath opened his maw and looked to snatch Alijah from his saddle. Hadavad raised his staff and emitted another orb of brilliant light. It wasn’t harmful magic, but it was enough to blind the dragon and send him back into the sky. His thick, spiky tail scraped the ground behind Ned’s galloping legs and kicked up a shower of sand and dirt.

  “We can’t outrun him!” Galanör shouted.

  Malliath had flown ahead of them and was already banking to turn back around. They were now galloping towards the dragon in a valley that offered a single direction. Unfortunately, this was also the time Vighon began to regain his senses and the northerner’s groggy voice soon broke into a warning cry, as if they weren’t aware of the danger flying towards them.

  The black dragon dropped into the valley and glided towards them, his mouth open and the smallest flicker of light visible at the back of his throat. He meant to burn them.

  “Straighten up!” Alijah barked at Vighon, intending to direct Ned sharply to the left.

  It was too late. Malliath was almost on top of them and his fiery breath couldn’t be denied. They were all about to die.

  But death would have to wait, it seemed.

  From over their heads, a red dragon soared into the fray, forcing them all to duck as it glided down in front of them. This new dragon flew so low to the ground that its feet thundered across the rock and launched it back into the air, where both wyrms collided in a violent clash of claws and gnashing jaws.

  Sand was kicked into the air and the riders could do nothing but gallop through the cloud and hope to avoid the swinging tails. Alijah blinked the debris from his eyes and tried to glimpse the warring dragons as they collided into the valley wall. A cascade of rock broke away and fell into the valley like a waterfall, adding more plumes of sand to mask their battle.

  “Dragons!” Vighon shouted.

  Alijah jostled with his friend and the shield on his back to better see the valley in front of them. The dragons, capable of covering a greater distance in a fraction of the time, clashed overhead and dropped into the valley before them. The riders pulled hard on their reins and narrowly avoided the black tail that swung around. The red dragon, however, took the force of it in the side, knocking it over in a tumble of wings and limbs.

  “What do we do?” Galanör asked Hadavad.

  The mage, who normally possessed all the answers, appeared just as concerned about the calamity they had found themselves in. How could they pass through the valley with two enormous dragons taking chunks out of each other?

  The red dragon jumped up on its hind legs and battered Malliath around the face with its razored claws. As Malliath’s head was smacked to the side… so too was Alijah’s.

  The half-elf put a hand to his cheek, sure that there would be blood in the pattern of a dragon’s claw upon his skin. There was no wound to speak of, but there was no mistaking the pain he had felt.

  Alijah looked back at Malliath with wide eyes. They had shared the pain!

  The red dragon clamped its jaws around Malliath’s leg, dragging him down enough to jump up again and swipe its claws. The black dragon was larger than the red and took the streaks across its face, adding the wounds to a patchwork of others, new and old.

  Alijah, on the other hand, was pulled down from his horse by a pain in his leg and thrown to the ground by another swipe across his face.

  “Alijah?” Vighon asked from atop Ned. “What’s wrong?”

  Hadavad drew his horse over. “What’s happening?”

  Alijah pulled himself back up, the pain abating as suddenly as it set upon him. He ignored the questions and concerned looks and turned to the dragons. Their wings extended and tails hammered the ground, each roaring and growling as they sized the other up.

  The rogue could see that the red dragon was about to spring forwards and snap at Malliath’s neck. Alijah feared for his own neck, but he couldn’t fight the urge to protect the black dragon.

  “STOP!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, running across the valley.

  He hadn’t even crossed half the distance before another dragon appeared, birthed from the stars above. Scaled in gold and equal in size to the red, this dragon slammed into Malliath’s side with all four of its legs outstretched. The black dragon roared in defiance but was unable to stop itself from falling to the side.

  Alijah yelled out, feeling all four of the claws jab at his ribs and hip before forcing him to the ground. The golden dragon then sank its teeth into Malliath’s thigh and Alijah gripped his right leg and cried out as if snared by a beast.

  “Stop…” he strained. “Please…”

  “Alijah!” Vighon had left Ned behind and started across the valley to reach him.

  The fighting dragons were getting out of control again and Malliath’s tail curled through the air, swatting the golden dragon square across the jaw. Vighon skidded to a stop by Alijah’s side and dragged the half-elf back, saving him with a moment to go before the golden dragon rolled over the very spot.

  The pain faded quickly, allowing Alijah to get his feet under him and run with Vighon. Malliath and the red dragon hovered, their wings flapping, before they both crashed into the ground beside the golden wyrm. Mighty jaws gnashed in the air and claws dug into the ground as the dragons rose up on their hind legs, battling for dominance. The two smaller dragons were no match for Malliath on their own, but Alijah could see that together, they were drawing a decent amount of blood from him.

  He felt every bite, claw, and strike of the tail.

  “What’s wrong?” Vighon asked, doing his best to keep his friend from crumpling to the ground.

  “It hurts…” the rogue replied through a clenched jaw, his hands squeezing the sand between his fingers.

  “I don’t understand,” Vighon said, desperately trying to drag the half-elf away from the giant scrap.

  “Get out of there!” Galanör’s warning came from the distance.

  The pain subsided just enough for Alijah to see the black tail swinging towards them. That should have been the end of them, and it would have been, if not for the invisible force that swept both Alijah and Vighon from their feet. Both rogues hit the ground as the thick tail passed only inches overhead.

  There was a woman running towards them…

  A couple of seconds later, that same tail swung back, whistling through the air with enough force to shatter stone. Had Malliath’s spiky tail not been on course to decapitate them, Alijah would have looked twice at the woman sprinting towards them, through the raging dragons. He resisted that urge and flattened himself to the ground beside Vighon.

  The approaching woman displayed remarkable reflexes and dropped feet first, skidding under those same spikes.

  Vighon was already scrambling to his feet with a firm grip on Alijah’s coat. “Move!” he yelled.

  Still in the thick of it, a golden tail pummelled the ground between them and the woman like a hammer on an anvil, kicking up more sand to conceal her identity. The woman jumped and twisted her body mid-flight to have her clear the tail and land back on her feet. The golden tail was already lifting back up before her feet touched the ground.

  Alijah’s face screwed up when the woman fell into a crouch at their feet. “Inara?” he asked incredulously.

  His sister didn’t offer so much as a smile but, instead, raised her hand and clenched her fist. Malliath’s solid tail-end came down on them from nowhere and impacted a shield Inara
had wrapped around the three of them. The shield flared a brilliant red every time the bulbous spiky end came down.

  Under the bombardment, every vein in Inara’s head made itself known. Still, she held. The shield took the hammering tail again and again until the red dragon leapt from the side and took Malliath into a chaotic tumble across the valley.

  Inara gasped and unclenched her fist. “You need to move, now!”

  Alijah had so many questions he couldn’t think straight. “Wait. What are you—”

  Hadavad and Galanör rode up beside them, blocking his view of Inara. Vighon climbed onto Ned and called for Alijah to get on behind him, as yet more of the valley’s walls fell apart under the weight of the violent dragons.

  Inara was gone by the time he was astride Ned and he suddenly feared for her life. How could anyone survive in the middle of such a fight?

  “We need to get out of Syla’s Pass!” Hadavad bellowed with his staff raised high. “Follow me!”

  Galanör paused, halting them all. “There’s a rider on top of Malliath… a black rider.”

  They all turned to see the rider, clad in dark armour and a cloak as black as the night. The ranger held tightly onto Malliath’s saddle as the dragon raked at the golden dragon’s neck, scraping red lines down its glittering scales. The red dragon came up behind and dropped its weight onto Malliath’s tail.

  Inara was astride that dragon!

  That meant the dragon assaulting Malliath was Athis, her eternal companion.

  “What evil has that Crow unleashed?” Hadavad asked, his dark brow creasing into despair.

  Galanör looked an elf bereft of all hope and strength as he said, “He made Valanis a dragon rider…”

  “No,” Alijah corrected. “He made Asher a dragon rider.”

  20

  First Blood

  Inara chose to fall deeper into her bond with Athis, hoping that the dragon’s resolve and focus would allow her to ignore Alijah’s surprising appearance.