The Fall of Neverdark

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  The son of Dorain jogged alongside Reyna and Nathaniel, his mood sour. “Did I mention how much I love travellin’ with ye two?”

  45

  Dragon Fall

  Velia was falling into ruin. Fires were spreading out of control, bodies were piling up in the streets, and the sun was far from rising.

  Gideon Thorn had cut a bloody swathe through the city, slaying any orcs that got in his way. Only twice had he been forced to seek immediate shelter due to the pain Ilargo shared with him.

  Above the city, the dragons continued their aerial battle, adding their snarls and roars to the din of the chaotic city. Malliath had already killed Falmir and his dragon Jorlaxa. Gideon had felt them separate from the bond, their death so swift that Jorlaxa hadn’t been able to pass on her memories to one of the other dragons.

  Their loss would have to be grieved later. If he thought about it too much, Gideon feared he would miss the swing of a sword and find himself and Ilargo joining the fatalities.

  What he couldn’t miss, however, were the six massive orcs charging up the street. They were much larger than the orcs currently filling the streets, with impossibly thick arms and legs. They carried no weapons and nor did they need any. The orcs rammed their way through every cluster of Red Cloaks, throwing the soldiers around like rag dolls.

  Gideon shot out his hand at the three orcs who stepped in his way, hurling them all through a shop window with a single spell. He stepped into the middle of the street, putting himself between the six massive orcs and the Velians attempting to fortify the crossroads.

  Twice the size of the largest man and crowned with thick horns, the orcs caught sight of Gideon and bared their fangs. The lead orc backhanded a much smaller orc to clear its path to the Master Dragorn.

  With two hands wrapped around Mournblade’s hilt, Gideon braced himself in the street. His intentions towards them were clear to the Vi’tari blade and he knew the scimitar would work tirelessly until they were all dead.

  Only a few feet remained between him and the charging behemoths when Ilargo swooped down and snatched four of them from the ground. His tail dragged through the street behind him and clobbered the two remaining orcs, throwing them in opposite directions.

  Leaving Gideon behind, the green dragon gained tremendous height in a single beat of his wings. Then he released the orcs from his claws. All four of the massive beasts fell to their deaths, impacting the city walls at great speed.

  I could have handled them, he said into his bond with Ilargo.

  You haven’t got time, Ilargo replied, his voice relaying a sense of urgency. Asher is on the northern wall!

  Gideon turned to his right and focused his sight down the length of the street until it met the northern wall. Looking up, he couldn’t see the old ranger, but he knew better than to doubt Ilargo’s eyes.

  I’ll find him!

  Hurry, Gideon…

  He didn’t like Ilargo’s hopeless tone, betraying his sense of defeat. Malliath wasn’t even fighting his companion at that moment, but he was ferociously clawing and biting at Sabitha and Galda, pinning the yellow dragon onto one of the towering statues. It was only a matter of time before the raging dragon killed another Dragorn…

  Gideon sprinted towards the northern wall, pausing only to cut down an orc and save the life of another Velian. He easily threw two orcs aside who challenged him on the steps. On the wall itself, there were very few orcs, with most of their horde in the streets. A handful of Red Cloaks showed a cluster of orcs that they wouldn’t abandon their home without a fight.

  Their victory over the orcs was but a small one in the grand scheme, though Gideon still found himself elated to see the knights of Velia slay their enemies.

  That elation was instantly replaced by dread.

  Beyond the Red Cloaks, a figure in dark armour and a flowing black cloak strode towards them. Asher’s two-handed broadsword was already in hand, his greying hair hanging over his face in knots. His expression was that of a grimace, marred with cuts that mirrored Malliath’s own.

  “Get out of the way!” Gideon warned.

  The Red Cloaks had no idea who Asher was, but he certainly wasn’t an orc and therefore he was seen as an ally. They turned to Gideon, confused as to why he was running towards them and shouting.

  They missed Asher raising his sword. The Dragon Knight brought his blade down, splitting the first Velian down the back, killing him instantly.

  “No!” Gideon ran as fast as he could.

  Asher had their full attention now, but there wasn’t a knight among them who possessed the skills to beat the old ranger. His broadsword sprang left and right, parrying and slashing. One by one they dropped at his feet, dead. The last of them received a boot to the chest and was launched from the ramparts and down into the city.

  Without thinking, Gideon leaped over the bodies and came down on Asher with Mournblade. The Master Dragorn allowed some of Ilargo’s feral nature to bleed with his own emotions, giving him the thoughts and feelings of a superior predator.

  Asher stepped back with every blow from Gideon, his broadsword rising to meet Mournblade. The two warriors collided again and again in a clash of steel, the Master Dragorn careful to keep the old ranger on the defensive.

  An unorthodox twist of Mournblade cast Asher’s sword aside, opening him up for a backhanded swipe. The scimitar cut across the Dragon Knight’s face, tracing a red line over his right cheek and the bridge of his nose. Gideon jumped and turned in the air, his form that of the Mag’dereth, and kicked Asher in the chest.

  Baring his teeth in the manner of an orc, Gideon looked down on Asher as he rolled back across the ramparts, bleeding from the cheek. In the distance, Malliath roared twice; once for the new gash over his face and a second time when Ilargo took advantage. Teeth marks dug into Asher’s arm and the fabric of his shirt became wet with blood.

  The old ranger scowled at his opponent and glanced at his fallen sword, resting beside Gideon’s foot. The Master Dragorn saw Asher as Ilargo would see a bison; a vulnerable prey that could do nothing to stop him.

  He took a step towards the Dragon Knight and stopped, thoughts of Alijah rising to the surface. He couldn’t kill Asher, nor did he want to. For all the damage he could cause, Malliath too, neither of them deserved what was happening to them. His reservations set in, affecting his will over Mournblade, just as it had done in Lirian.

  He couldn’t allow a repeat of Lirian.

  How many had the pair killed since then, all because he couldn’t find the will to cut Asher down? His moral dilemma gave him pause for too long and the Dragon Knight leaped at him. Mournblade came up and intercepted the dagger that flashed in Asher’s hand, but Gideon’s mixed feelings prevented any counterattack from the Vi’tari blade.

  Asher, enslaved to The Crow, didn’t harbour any mixed feelings. An uppercut with his free hand caught Gideon under the jaw and a second jab connected with his windpipe. Two steps he stumbled before the Dragon Knight planted a foot in his chest and kicked him down the ramparts.

  Gideon felt his grip release Mournblade and the scimitar clattered across the stone until it disappeared over the lip of the rampart. His hands instinctively reached for his throat and he opened his mouth wide as he tried to suck in any air. He coughed and spluttered, scrambling backwards on the floor to put some distance between him and Asher. The Dragon Knight moved towards him, bruised and bloodied with his dagger in hand.

  With some air finally reaching his lungs, Gideon succeeded in standing, only now Asher stood between him and Mournblade. Through ragged breaths, the Master Dragorn clenched his fists and cracked his knuckles. His knowledge of the Mag’dereth offered him multiple fighting styles with or without a sword.

  Hurry Gideon! Ilargo cried out.

  Gideon and Asher clashed in a flurry of fists and kicks. The Master Dragorn slipped between the openings and hammered the Dragon Knight. Asher took the blows and never failed to demonstrate the skills he had learned as an assassin of
Nightfall. Gideon felt the nerve clusters in his shoulders taking the brunt of Asher’s counterattacks, steadily wearing his reflexes down.

  Before either could claim victory, both men crumpled to the floor in agony. High above them, Ilargo had violently crashed into Malliath. Their claws raked and their jaws snapped, as all the while their wings fought to keep them airborne.

  The Master Dragorn writhed around with veins bulging under his skin. Claw marks raked across his chest and teeth clamped down on his limbs, drawing blood and tearing at his muscles. Asher silently endured the same torture, doubling over and grabbing at his wounded limbs.

  Malliath used all four of his claws to push away from Ilargo, who dropped a hundred feet before spreading his wings into a glide. The bond between the remaining Dragorn was becoming harder to focus on, but Gideon knew the other three dragons were hurtling towards Malliath. It was perhaps the only reprieve he and Ilargo would get. He had to make it count.

  Gritting his teeth through the pain, Gideon stood up and faced Asher. The Dragon Knight appeared to be in just as much pain and Gideon shared a thought for Alijah, who, somewhere, was feeling everything they did.

  “If you’re in there, Asher…” Gideon wiped the blood from his eyebrow. “If you’re in there, I need you to fight this. Illian is nearly gone! We need to fight the orcs, not you!”

  Without a word, Asher lunged at him with his dagger. The small blade swiped left then right, each move angled to open Gideon’s throat. The Master Dragorn evaded every strike and opened his arms, offering his chest as the perfect target. The inevitable thrust came at his heart and Gideon twisted his body, bringing him alongside Asher’s outstretched arm. With two hands gripping the Dragon Knight’s arm and wrist, Gideon powered his chest into his foe’s elbow, bending the arm against the joint.

  The dagger dropped to the floor and Gideon whipped his arm under and round, throwing Asher’s arm out wide and exposing his chest and face. Two swift punches to the jaw and nose knocked the Dragon Knight’s head back and a third, open-palmed attack to the chest threw Asher to the floor.

  Gideon blinked the blood out of his eyes. “There must be something of you in there!” He circled Asher, pausing to kick his dagger off the edge of the rampart. “Don’t you recall any of this? You’ve been up here before. You’ve fought on these very walls for the good of the realm!”

  Asher groaned and slowly rose to his feet again, his eyes dead. Whatever it was looking back at Gideon, it wasn’t the Asher he had known.

  Gideon shook his head, despair creeping into his voice. “I’m so sorry, Asher… You didn’t deserve this. You should have been allowed to rest.”

  Asher responded with his fists. The Dragon Knight came at Gideon with renewed fury, demonstrating the deadly hand-to-hand techniques perfected by the Arakesh of Nightfall. Gideon was forced to use every limb to keep Asher’s attacks at bay, only succeeding twice to land his own counterattacks. The old ranger took the hits without care and always came back at Gideon with successful punches of his own.

  Look out!

  Ilargo’s warning came without explanation, but the dragon imparted a great sense of danger combined with the overwhelming need to leap out of the way. Gideon kicked Asher backwards and used his resistance to launch himself back down the rampart. The two separated as Malliath hammered the wall, pinning Yorva to the stone.

  The rampart was violently shaken before Gideon could jump into the air, throwing him sideways towards the inner edge of the wall. Before he fell over the side, he glimpsed Malliath’s jaws wrap around Yorva’s purple neck and heard the dragon’s neck snap. Malliath pushed off the wall, beating his wings over the ramparts, and left Yorva’s long neck and head to follow her body off the wall and plummet to the ground.

  Gideon held on to the edge of the inner wall by his fingers. Looking down, the drop was a hundred feet, only this time he didn’t have any elixirs to save him from the impact. The Master Dragorn groaned through the pain and lifted his body weight by his arms alone.

  Asher was standing over him.

  Gideon let his shoulders drop back down and hung by his fingers once again. He was at the mercy of the Dragon Knight.

  “Asher…” Gideon could feel his fingers going numb. “Asher, you have to fight this. Don’t let him control you!”

  Without a hint of emotion, the old ranger lifted his broadsword, holding it directly above Gideon’s face.

  “Asher!” Gideon pleaded.

  In the seconds he had before Asher plunged his blade, Gideon imagined Ilargo falling from the sky, dead. Ilargo’s life would always be the thing he fought for, no matter what trials he had to endure. He would survive.

  Gideon let go of the wall.

  Alijah skipped over the roof tops of Velia, narrowly avoiding the obsidian arrows and spears that scraped and rebounded off the slate. More than one of the black arrows cut holes through his green cloak as he leaped over the chimneys.

  His elevated vantage gave Alijah a view of the city in all its fiery horror. Trapped inside Velia’s high walls, the people had nowhere to run and the Red Cloaks fell in every street defending them.

  Above it all, the dragons were too occupied with Malliath and their riders were nowhere to be seen. Their inability to protect the people of Velia set Alijah’s blood on fire. It should be Gideon trying to kill that orc, not him. He felt like roaring into the sky to let out some of that anger, a feeling that reminded the rogue he was being influenced by Malliath.

  Stealing a glance below, the king-slaying orc was in pursuit amidst those who fired upon him. Yet again, the pale beast had taken Alijah’s arrows and continued as if they were nothing more than splinters. The orc barked a harsh and guttural language at the others, directing the archers.

  The rogue skidded down the angled roof and nocked an arrow, relying heavily on his elven heritage to keep his balance. Alijah released the arrow before propelling himself along the edge of the building, killing one of the creatures and evading another salvo from the orcs.

  Looking ahead, his sprint was about to come to an abrupt end. One of the main streets cut through the row of houses, presenting the half-elf with an impossible leap. Nocking and firing another arrow faster than most could even observe, Alijah impaled the orc climbing over the lip of the roof, the same roof he was moments from running out of.

  A spear whistled through the air in front of him, helping the rogue to decide on his change of direction. He lost speed dashing up the angled roof, but his immediate change in direction caused all of the orcish archers to overshoot. Alijah rolled over the apex of the roof as obsidian bolts bounced off the slate. Tucking his legs up, the half-elf slid down the other side of the roof and sprang across the narrow alley, leaping from one wall then back to the adjacent until he landed on the street.

  The alley was dark and deserted, offering Alijah a moment to catch his breath. He had hoped to kill that orc with an arrow, saving him from the hordes that followed the commanding creature around.

  A whimper pulled his attention to the stack of barrels behind him.

  Alijah’s senses were on high alert and he found himself aiming an arrow at a man guarding his family. The blood was pounding in his ears and sweat ran down his temple and over the nocked arrow, resting against his cheek. The rogue took another breath and lowered his bow.

  The roar of an orc invaded the alley and Alijah didn’t hesitate to raise his bow again and let fly. The arrow sank into the creature’s face and threw him back into the main street, where a cluster of the horned beasts took note.

  Alijah tensed his jaw and nocked another arrow. “You need to get out of here, now!” he instructed the family.

  Looking down to the other end of the alley, more orcs were coming, blocking any escape. The half-elf growled and turned to the nearest door. He had no idea where it would lead but he kicked it in anyway.

  “In here!” he barked. “Find somewhere to hide; I’ll hold them off!”

  The mother thanked him as the father scooped
up their daughter and disappeared through the door. Alijah had promised he would hold off the orcs and so he would. He just had no idea how yet…

  “Come on, then!” he yelled, channelling some of Vighon’s pre-fight fervour.

  He loosed three arrows in quick succession before folding the bow and hooking it back onto his quiver. The silvyr short-sword was in his hand before the three dead orcs hit the floor.

  Alijah slammed the door shut behind the family and stood his ground in the alley. With enemies coming at him from both sides, he wished more than ever that Vighon had his back.

  An orcish word filled the alleyway, so loud and so harsh that it could be heard over the charging beasts. Then they stopped. Their ragged hot breaths could be seen in the icy air, their reflective eyes fixed on the rogue. Not a single orc moved.

  Alijah’s head snapped from one end of the alley to the other, checking that both hordes had ceased their charge. The group in front of him began to part, giving way to the orc who had killed Tauren and King Rayden. A white V marked his black chestplate, though its meaning was lost on the rogue. Perhaps it was a symbol he could decipher when the orc was naught but a corpse.

  The orc tilted his head and his eyes looked to settle on Alijah’s pointed ears. The beast’s lip curled into a growl and it hefted the rectangular blade in its meaty hand. Stepping clear of the others, the arrow impaling its thigh was clear to see, though it made no difference to the orc’s stride.

  Determined to maintain his resolve and hide any fear that might creep into his bones, Alijah dropped into an aggressive stance before pouncing at his foe. The silvyr blade flashed left and right but the orc moved with every swipe, evading the bite of the blade. The watching horde of orcs backed up, giving the combatants space.

  The rogue used the left-hand wall to gain height and come down on the orc with a strong thrust. The orc, however, showed incredible reflexes and spun on the spot, providing Alijah’s blade with nothing but air to pierce. The sound of the beast’s mighty sword cutting through the air behind him gave the rogue cause to drop and roll across the alley. When he jumped back to his feet, the orc examined the rectangular blade in its own hand, glancing briefly at Alijah.