The Fall of Neverdark

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  Alijah could feel Gideon’s eyes boring into him. The Master Dragorn’s words had an edge to them, as if he were accusing the rogue of something.

  “What are you saying?” he asked impatiently.

  Gideon flicked his wrist and threw a small object at Alijah. The half-elf snatched it from the air and opened his palm to look upon a pebble. Etched in white across the grey surface was the elvish rune for Dragorn.

  Alijah frowned and threw the pebble once into the air before catching it again. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “Look again,” Gideon said.

  Alijah looked down at the engraved pebble and saw nothing but the elvish symbol.

  “Turn over your hand,’ Gideon instructed.

  The rogue sighed, not understanding the point of this exercise. Still, he closed his fingers around the pebble and turned his hand over. He had to look twice when he realised the elvish symbol was glowing under the skin, just below his knuckles.

  “I don’t…” Alijah couldn’t finish his words. Instead, he turned his hand back over and examined the pebble again. It appeared entirely ordinary. Looking at the back of his hand again, the symbol continued to glow through.

  “It’s called a dragon stone. We don’t use them anymore,” Gideon explained. “They were created during the time of Elandril, the first Dragorn. The bond between elf and dragon wasn’t as understood as it is now. Back then, they believed that you were born a Dragorn. They eventually came to realise that a bond needed to be formed first before the stone could detect it.”

  Alijah had devoted his life to putting cryptic puzzles together and connecting dots that spanned thousands of years. It didn’t take more than a second to put the Master Dragorn’s words together and understand his meaning… He just couldn’t comprehend their consequences.

  “You’re saying…” Alijah held out the pebble, inspecting the back of his hand. “You’re saying I’m…”

  “Bonded to Malliath the voiceless,” Gideon finished. “Naturally, that is…” he added softly.

  Alijah couldn’t focus on anything and he dropped the pebble on to the table. The elvish symbol faded immediately, leaving the rogue’s head to spin.

  He was a Dragorn? No. Alijah shook his head; he didn’t want to be a Dragorn. He had given up on that dream years ago. He didn’t want anything to do with their order. He didn’t need a dragon to make him special. He wasn’t even… immortal?

  There was no denying the sense in Gideon’s words, that much he could rationalise. That meant his entire being would be shared with Malliath, granting him eternal life. Is that what it meant? Alijah put a hand to his forehead, struggling to contain the thoughts and questions that wanted to come out at once.

  The Master Dragorn walked back around the table to face him. “In the time I spent with Malliath, his most defining trait was his rage. He had always harboured a temper, but a thousand years under the mages of Korkanath ignited a fire in him that has yet to be extinguished. I see that same rage burning inside of you now.”

  “You don’t know me!” Alijah spat.

  “I know this anger that bubbles under the surface is new to you. You don’t know how to control it yet. That’s because it’s not your anger. It comes from Malliath…”

  Alijah ran his hand over the table and launched a pile of books across the floor. “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You know Malliath as well as you know me!”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re bonded to him, and naturally. When you saw him, did the whole world come to a stop, as if the two of you were the only ones in it? Did you see yourself through his eyes?”

  Alijah didn’t answer any of his questions, but it was clear to see from Gideon’s face that his expression alone had told the truth.

  “That’s a relatively common occurrence,” he continued. “More than half report a similar experience.”

  Alijah stepped back, seeing Gideon’s attempt at comforting him. He didn’t need it and he didn’t want it.

  “It’s alright,” Gideon said quietly. “Your feelings towards me and the order are reflective of the way Malliath feels about us. He too doesn’t want to be a part of this.”

  “My feelings are my own,” Alijah insisted.

  “To an extent,” Gideon agreed. “The bond has yet to be fully formed. You need more time with him, though I suspect the spell between Asher and Malliath will be something of an obstacle.”

  Alijah whipped up a finger. “Stop. Talking.” He needed a moment to collect himself. Just looking at Gideon made him angry, let alone listening to his voice talk about him as if he knew everything.

  The significance of the single, most important thing to ever happen to him was clouded by a mist of rage. The rational side to his mind could see that his rising temper had increased dramatically since being around Gideon and other Dragorn.

  Quite out of character, Gideon turned away and frowned at nothing. “What?” he exclaimed suddenly.

  Alijah searched the otherwise empty library, wondering what Gideon was reacting too.

  “Sorry,” he apologised, looking back to the rogue. “I was talking to Ilargo. The Dragorn I sent to The Arid Lands have just reported their findings.”

  The drastic change in subject worked to pull Alijah from his angry haze. “What is it?” he asked.

  “They’ve checked all three cities. Tregaran, Ameeraska, Calmardra… There isn’t a single body to be found.”

  The half-elf looked away, recalling the streets of Tregaran, littered with bodies. “That’s impossible. I was there, I saw them. There were hundreds of dead in the streets.”

  Gideon cupped his beard. “Not anymore.”

  “The orcs took them?” Alijah mused.

  Gideon looked to the books sprawled across the table. “There was mention of bones in one of Elandril’s biographies. They hold some significance for the orcs.”

  Alijah thought of Tauren’s body being taken underground by those foul beasts and torn apart for his bones.

  “There are more answers here,” Gideon stated, taking in the library. “We just need to find them.”

  “We?” Alijah echoed.

  “You have skills I would utilise. Also… You’re a Dragorn now; you belong here.”

  Alijah shook his head. “I’m not a Dragorn, Gideon.” He waited for the anger to resurface but it stayed buried this time, offering him a measure of control.

  “Not yet,” Gideon quipped.

  Alijah concerned himself with the orcs and their sudden attack, hoping that the gravity of that situation would keep his anger in check and distract him from thoughts about his potential immortality.

  “Sorry about these,” the rogue said, picking up the books he had launched from the table.

  “You can make up for it by reading them,” the Master Dragorn replied. “The books on this table are everything I can find that relates to the time of The Great War.”

  “What are you going to do?” Alijah asked, getting the feeling that he would be the one doing all the research.

  “I’m going to give this new prophecy a look.”

  “Not without me you’re not,” Alijah protested, careful to keep his tone light. “I found it. I want to be present for any examination.”

  The Master Dragorn tilted his head, weighing Alijah’s demands. “Fair enough.”

  Gideon walked up to a tall set of shelves lined with red books. Thin chains ran across the shelves, though they appeared more decorative than anything else. Showing no interest in the books, Gideon pushed his hand into one of the stone slabs beside the shelves. The whole slab disappeared into the wall and set off a series of grinding noises and cogs.

  Alijah had seen something similar in The Pick-Axe.

  The bookshelf spun around to reveal a cabinet with glass doors on it. Inside were only two objects: a rolled up scroll the length of a man’s arm and a very thick, ancient-looking book.

  “When do I get my own secret wall?” Alijah asked.

 
“When I’m confident you won’t gamble away the contents…” Gideon replied, his attention on the scroll he was delicately removing.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Alijah asked, his eyes on the book rather than the scroll.

  Gideon closed the cabinet doors and returned to the table, scroll in hand. “That depends on what you think it is.”

  “I think it’s Atilan’s grimoire and I think I’d love to read it.” Alijah barely noticed the scroll Gideon was rolling out on the adjacent table. “That book was found by my grandmother,” he said, his feet taking him towards the cabinet.

  “Yes,” Gideon agreed. “At the end of The War for the Realm. She was with Galanör at the time.”

  “And in Ayda,” Alijah added, excited by the mere presence of such an ancient relic.

  “I was hoping, some day, that you and Hadavad might get a chance to explore some of south Ayda. There may well be other locations Atilan put down his flag.”

  Alijah’s hands rested against the glass of the cabinet. “The fact that Atilan’s kingdom even stretched to Ayda is incredible. He commanded the largest empire the world has ever seen.”

  “Yes.” Gideon’s voice was right behind him now and a firm hand rested on his shoulder. “And that book is very dangerous,” he warned. “It’s written in the ancient language, making it a pain to translate, but what I did learn put dread in my bones. Atilan was a mad wizard with a lust for power and a penchant for hurting people. Much like our Crow problem…”

  Alijah wanted desperately to get his hands on that book. It was the kind of find he could spend his entire life searching for and never come across it.

  “Come,” Gideon steered him away from the cabinet. “I need your eye for detail. We need to learn all that we can.”

  The Master Dragorn laid out his prophecy and Alijah removed his from the leather tube and put it down beside the other one. Side by side, there was an immediate similarity.

  “They’re both human skin,” Gideon observed.

  Alijah tried his best to contain his excitement at looking upon The Echoes of Fate, the prophecy that foretold of The War for the Realm. It was in exquisite condition compared to the one he had found in The Wild Moores, with every word legible and barely a stain on it.

  “They look roughly the same age,” the rogue added. He tentatively reached out and thumbed both scrolls at the same time, feeling for the texture.

  “There is some significant damage to this one,” Gideon said, pointing out the water stains and patches.

  Alijah retrieved his notebook with the words written down that Ellöria had translated. “Did Galanör tell you about the protection spell?” he asked, flicking through the pages of his notebook.

  “Yes, he said it cannot be destroyed. That means all this damage was done thousands of years ago.”

  “Exactly,” Alijah agreed. “So, did The Echoes deliberately ruin it so that we could only read a few words, or did it get accidentally damaged and they put a protection spell on it to prevent further decay?”

  Alijah watched Gideon study both scrolls, his inspection intense. “Do you believe it then?” he asked the Master Dragorn. “Do you believe The Echoes could see the future? Or that The Crow can see it now? He boasts of such.”

  “I’m more than aware of his boasting,” Gideon replied with a strange glance at the long mirror in the corner. “Whether The Crow can see the future or not, the ancient priests of The Echoes certainly could. Every line of The Echoes of Fate came true.”

  Alijah looked down at the immaculate prophecy, aware that the first verse actually had a reference to Gideon, if it was believed to be true. “Hadavad believes it can be applied—”

  “To any narrative,” Gideon finished. “I know what Hadavad thinks. His judgement of The Echoes, and especially their current iteration, has always been clouded by his hate and fears. I would ask that you suspend disbelief and accept anything and everything as possible. Only an open mind will get to the truth, Alijah.”

  “But how can anyone see what hasn’t happened yet? That magic doesn’t exist.”

  Gideon folded his arms. “You’ve been mentored by a man who has survived the centuries by transferring his essence from one host to the next. I would start believing in everything until proven otherwise…”

  Alijah couldn’t argue with that. He had seen a lot of strange things over the last four years. Most folk would call him a liar if he told them of his exploits.

  “Here’s Lady Ellöria’s translation.” Alijah handed over his notebook.

  Gideon read aloud, “As the Age turns to ruin, so too will the light turn to darkness. Some mention of a pact… A warrior shall be resurrected in the heart of a fallen star.” He looked down at the damaged prophecy. “Something about a dragon… Only magic wrought of unity can break the chains…” Gideon stopped reading for a moment and looked up, his musings private. “Immortal ash? It’s a shame that part’s damaged. Through the forge of war, the world will have…” The Master Dragorn sighed. “Well, that’s suitably irritating.”

  “Lady Ellöria believed we were meant to find it,” Alijah explained. “She believed the only thing The Black Hand had to gain from it was our travelling south, to Paldora’s Fall.”

  Gideon nodded along. “Therefore placing you in front of Malliath and binding you into the spell with Asher. It certainly complicates things.”

  Alijah considered the master’s conclusion. “It would mean The Crow knew I would naturally bond with Malliath…”

  Gideon reluctantly agreed. “More evidence that The Crow can see the future.”

  Alijah shook his head. “Or it was foretold in an ancient prophecy The Black Hand have access to.”

  Gideon kept his eyes on the scrolls. “Were you given directions to the cave in The Wild Moores?” he asked.

  Alijah thought for a moment. “No. Vighon and I were searching those woods for two weeks before we came across it. It was Hadavad who suggested we search the heart of The Wild Moores. He said that when the survivors of The First Kingdom fled the dragons, they would have travelled deep into the forest.”

  Gideon leaned over the table with both hands supporting him. “As ruined as it is, I would say it’s useless to us now. If its intent was to see you travel south, the damage has already been done. Hadavad was right, our priority should be finding a way to break the spell. We need to strengthen your bond with Malliath and separate him from Asher.”

  Alijah could see the ranger thrashing around on the hewn table when he closed his eyes. “Regardless of the bonding spell between them, Asher is still enslaved to The Crow. I saw him burn the spell into his chest.”

  “We’ll deal with that when we can,” Gideon replied. “If Malliath attacks again, we’ll have no choice but to engage him. That could be life-threatening for you.”

  The idea of the Dragorn hurting Malliath caused Alijah’s fist to clench again.

  “We won’t kill him,” Gideon assured in a soothing tone.

  Alijah took a breath, believing the Master Dragorn. “What do we do next then?”

  Gideon stood up straight and blew out a long breath. “We have our work cut out for us. We need to find a way of breaking the forced bond between Asher and Malliath, or at least weakening the bond between you and Malliath; that way you won’t feel everything he does. We also need to research the orcs and The Great War.” Gideon looked down at the two prophecies. “And we need to examine these in more detail.”

  Alijah took in the size of the library. “The orcs will have taken over all of Verda before we get through all this.”

  “Agreed,” Gideon said. “I’ve got most of the Dragorn patrolling Illian right now, but some of our younger members remain in the isles. I will recruit some help.”

  It was a strange thought, but Alijah didn’t like the idea of researching without Vighon looking out for him. His northern friend might not have a love for learning anything other than swordplay, but his company was always welcomed. He found explaining things to Vigho
n helped him to grasp a better understanding himself.

  He could really do with talking to him now. The knowledge that he was, in fact, bonding to Malliath continued to push out from the back of his mind, attempting to distract him from the tasks at hand.

  Excitement, anxiety, and fear raged in his mind like a storm. For the first time in his life, there was a sense that he was meant for something more, though Malliath’s essence, now a part of him, coloured his emotions and beliefs.

  In the eye of that emotional storm, Alijah had a moment of peace and clarity. It was an inescapable thought, but he knew right then, bonded with Malliath, that he was capable of something truly great… or something truly terrible.

  39

  Cloudless Thunder

  Vighon could see that Galanör was becoming frustrated and it did nothing but encourage the northman. He continued through the motions of his stretching regime, determined to finish them.

  The ranger pulled one face after another, waiting with his scimitars in hand, as the night moved steadily closer to day.

  “How long does this go on for?” the elf asked.

  Vighon put his fingers into his left shoulder joint and rotated his arm. “Stretching’s important.”

  Galanör sighed. “The entire caravan will be on the move again soon.”

  “Are all elves as dramatic as you?” Vighon bent down and touched his toes.

  Galanör’s eyes narrowed and a wicked grin pulled at his mouth. “Not every foe will allow you time to stretch.”

  The elf flicked up his scimitars and lunged at Vighon, crossing the snowy clearing in two quick steps. Vighon had anticipated this response, however, and easily reached for his shield. Galanör’s blades came down as one, failing to even dent the enchanted shield.