by M. E. Thorne
She ran over, her sword unsheathed and damp with blood. “Dark Lord?”
“Go, hold the gate,” I instructed her as I looked out over the scene, “Don’t let a single Luminark escape.”
She saluted, grabbed four more soldiers, and took off as fast as possible towards the camp’s main gate. The remaining two soldiers stayed by the mine entrance, herding any late arrivals underground.
I drew my mantle back and held my head high. “Vexile, Nichessa, let’s go finish this.”
The labor camp had become a scene out of a nightmare. Dust and smoke filled the air, making it hard to see more than a meter ahead. Most of the buildings on the southern end of the camp were simply gone, and flames burst from the rifts torn into the earth. I knew nobody would be able to escape in that direction; anyone fleeing for safety would be forced to use the camp’s only gate.
The few guards on their feet were wandering around in a daze, completely broken and demoralized.
Nichessa, marching through the gloom, warhammer in hand, must have seemed like a titan of death to them. She barely paused her stride when she smashed her hammer, leaving a trail of broken corpses in her wake.
Vexile and I followed, eliminating the few stragglers who wandered into the melee, those tracing the sounds of the screams. For their trouble, they were lashed with sprays of deadly venom or struck down by my crossbow bolts.
A projectile whizzed by, almost striking us. Peering up, I saw there were still a few loyalist guards stationed on the northern wall, firing randomly at people as they ran below.
“Vexile!” I shouted, pointing them out.
My queen responded with lightning speed. She conjured a blast of corrosive venom and sent it sweeping their way. The guards screamed and fell, even as the wall was dissolved by the toxic cloud.
Lone prisoners stumbled past, lost and disoriented. They tripped to a halt at the sight of Vexile and Nichessa, clearly in awe of the ascendants.
“Go to the mines,” I commanded them, my voice thrumming with power.
They lurched to follow my directives. It broke my heart to see their terrible state, some barely strong enough to walk on their own, but it also hardened my resolve.
“We need to find Sanderson,'' I said to my queens. “He needs to pay for what he’s done.”
“He’s probably in his mansion,” Nichessa swung her hammer in a low sweep, taking out the legs of a guard who tried to charge her with a spear. She stomped a foot down on his chest, the sound of cracking ribs terrifying the troopers formed up behind him.
Vexile launched herself at them, her tail whipping out and striking the foremost man in the head. His neck broke with a wet snap. She hissed menacingly at the remaining guards, hurling orbs of corrosive venom into their midst.
Dropping their weapons, they disappeared into the smoke, screaming in agony as their armor and skin melted.
We moved between the warehouses, dealing death. Only those loyal to the foreman seemed to put up any resistance, while the rest just ran blindly. We killed them regardless; we couldn’t afford to let any of the Luminark survive and to tell what they had witnessed. I hoped Garnet had successfully reached the gates and was barring the way for anyone who tried to flee that direction.
Up ahead, I could see part of Sanderson’s mansion had collapsed, the southern walls shearing away from the rest of the building. All of the windows were broken, the shattered glass littering the dirt yard. Four men, the last of his loyalist bodyguards, were loading up a wagon with everything they could carry out of the mansion while another was trying to wrestle a stubborn crawlclaw into the wagon’s collar and harness.
We swept upon them with brutal efficiency. Vexile hurled a cloud of venom at the mansion's doorway, forcing the four bodyguards back inside, while Nichessa and I seized the wagon. She swung the hammer into the man’s chest, the blow hurling him away like a ragdoll.
Jumping onto the wagon’s bench, I looked and saw the bed was full of valuables; statues, paintings, fine clothing, and locked cash boxes. It was a massive amount of treasure, all paid for by our people’s blood.
Nichessa reached up and grabbed one of the paintings, tearing away the protective cloth that had been draped over its surface. “Bleh, just some Luminark religious drivel.”
I saw it was a badly painted portrait, meant to portray some blond-haired, doe-eyed woman. Before I could inspect it more closely, she tossed it aside.
Someone, from an upper-story window, began hurling down objects at us; pottery, bits of furniture, and candlesticks, anything they could get a hold of. Vexile responded with blasts of venom, which drove them back.
“We might have to go inside and get Sanderson,” Nichessa said, as she watched the scene, which looked almost comical in nature.
“We’ll drag him out,” I nodded towards the wagon, “but first, we should move this thing out of the way. We can’t risk damaging it, we’ll need it to haul supplies.”
“I’ve got this,” Vexile confirmed as she sent a jet of venom towards an opening window. Someone inside yelled in shock and pain.
Nichessa manhandled the crawlclaw to the far side of the building, finding a hitching post we could tie it to. We both froze as we heard Vexile scream in agony from the front of the mansion.
Running as fast as we could, we found that three of the bodyguards had returned. They were warily fanned out around Vexile, who was still screaming, her body thrashing in the dirt.
Looking up at the mansion’s entrance, I saw Sanderson was standing there, his mouth open wide in surprise. In his hands, he was holding the Spear of Subjugation. The weapon gleamed with bright, blinding light, like a small sun was shining through the silvery metal of the spearhead.
“Vexile!” I cried.
Heedlessly, Nichessa smashed into the bodyguards, her hammer nearly breaking one man’s arm, even as she punched another in the face, sending them both staggering. But whatever foul magic was working through the Spear, it affected her as well. Her movements were far more sluggish than before, like she was moving through deep water.
I fired my crossbow, the bolt going wide, but it was enough to cause the remaining bodyguard to stagger back before he could jab his blade towards Nichessa’s flank.
“Monsters!” Sanderson screamed, his voice high and full of terror.
I readied another bolt, determined to fire it his way, even as Nichessa dropped her hammer. She tripped and fell, her arms unable to support her weight as she hit the ground. The muscles along her back shuddered as she tried to right herself, but she could not find the strength.
Loading my next bolt, I aimed it towards Sanderson’s chest, but already my movements felt lethargic, my body not moving as fast as my will demanded.
Sanderson twisted around and gave a shrill cry of surprise, as if noticing me for the first time. He jabbed the Spear my way, the bright, horrible radiance hitting me like a spotlight.
It was like being cooked alive. My skin burned, and I could hear my flesh sizzle as that terrible light engulfed me. My muscles seized and then went completely slack. The familiar thrill of power, the blessing of Revina that ran through my body, was cast out, exorcized by that cauterizing beam of light.
I heard a strangled, howling cry of pain ringing loudly in my ears. It took a second for my addled brain to realize that the agonized voice was my own.
Stumbling, my knees hit the ground, a painful jarring impact, swiftly followed by my head. I laid in a broken heap, every nerve in my body screaming in torment as Sanderson stepped closer, Spear still in hand.
“I didn’t think it was real,” he said as if speaking to himself. He clutched the weapon close to his chest. “I bought this thing years ago, from a former inquisitor I knew.” He gave a nervous laugh, “Guess it was more valuable than either of us realized.”
“Foreman?” One of the injured bodyguards called.
The three of them had regrouped, and stood nearby, watching my queens from what they considered a safe distance.
Sanderson look
ed about the camp, frowning at the chaos and destruction. He pointed towards one of the bodyguards, “Go find out where these monsters took the wagon,” before gesturing towards the painting Nichessa had thrown to the ground, “And pick that back up! Do you know how valuable that is!”
“Sir,” he grumbled. He took off, looking for the crawlclaw, while the other two bodyguards stood by nervously, weapons in hand.
“What about the camp, sir?” one of them asked.
“What about it?” Sanderson snapped back. “This place is lost. Even if we can round up anyone else and capture some of the prisoners, the mines have collapsed. No, we’ll just have to strike for the naval base. Count yourself fortunate to be loyal to me, I’ll make sure you at least get home and get paid.”
They reluctantly nodded. One of them jabbed Vexile with the butt of his weapon, rolling her over.
I hissed angrily, my fingers twisting in the dirt as I tried to fight whatever malignant influence the Spear had cast over us.
“Stay away from her!” I coughed.
“These things speak?” Sanderson scuttled closer, before poking me with the end of the Spear.
I screamed in pain, the merest contact from the weapon hurting like nothing I had ever experienced before. I kept screaming as Sanderson used the Spear to leverage me over, leaving me flat on my back.
Sanderson peered down at me, taking in my armor, the black mantle, and the circlet, which laid askew across my brow. “Who the hell are you?”
“Your doom,” I spat back, feeling blood speckle my lips.
He laughed, hitting me again with the butt of Spear. “And here I thought there were beasts in the mines, overgrown lizards eating my men and burning my home. Instead, I get an idiot in a costume and a couple of monsters he managed to tame. How revolting.”
“Sir?” One of the bodyguards, an older man, crouched near Nichessa, keeping just out of her reach. “I don’t think this is a monster. I think --” he gulped “-- I think I recognize her.”
“What?” the foreman sputtered.
“Remember, this was a long time ago, you ordered some guys to beat up that blacksmith who was lagging in her duties? The one who laughed at all the dirt she was tracking through your home?” He gestured towards her, “I swear, this is her.”
“Impossible,” he angrily replied, “she died on Deadman’s Duty twenty years ago!”
He waddled over and turned her over with the Spear, his face going white as he recognized her.
“Impossible,” he repeated, before looking at me in equal shock.
“Foreman?” the guard asked.
Sanderson came over, reversing his grip on the Spear and placing its point over my chest. “What are you? Who are you?”
“Dark Lord Robert Grailmont,” I told him, determined to be defiant to the end.
He raised the Spear higher, “Then I guess I’m returning to the empire not as a pariah and a failure, but as a hero!”
I looked away from him, my eyes involuntarily drifting up, towards the night sky. Overhead, a thousand stars shone. Each one is a blessing from Revina, I remembered.
Time slowed down.
I could see Sanderson stabbing the Spear towards my heart, the spearpoint moving in slow motion, but even then I couldn’t stop him. Desperately, I wanted to get up, to move, to save Vexile and Nichessa, but my body refused to respond. All I could do was stare at the stars.
And as I watched, they blinked out, one by one, till the night sky was infinite and empty, a perfect shell of darkness over the entire world.
A faint tremble ran through the ground. A small shake at first, that escalated and grew as time returned to its normal pace. I could feel something powerful burrowing up and through the earth. A thing of pure rage and vengeance, tearing and clawing its way to the surface.
I saw Sanderson tumble back, thrown off-balance by the sudden and unexpected quake. His mouth was formed into a terrified scream, and his eyes went wide in shock.
Behind him, the mansion shuddered, and I could hear nearby buildings collapsing, their weakened foundations finally giving in as the thing from below tore through to the surface.
Some of my strength returned, as Sanderson lost his grip on the Spear, the hateful weapon tumbling away, the glow fading as it rolled out of his reach.
Rolling onto my elbows, I saw the earth in front of me boil and break. I watched in awe as a dragon burst forth, its roar shaking the empty heavens.
Chapter 25
The beast pulled itself partially free from the earth. Claws, huge and sharp, dug in as it dragged itself further upward. Brown scales, which were impossibly ancient, covered every meter of its hide. It towered above the scene. Even though its lower half was still underground, its horned head easily rose above the mansion’s roof.
It’s real, I belatedly realized, staring at the thing. The dragon was real all along.
The dragon’s head swayed on its thick neck, looking at Vexile, and Nichessa, before it turned my way.
Eyes, huge and dark, bore into me as it lowered its head. It flared its nostrils, taking in my scent before it locked its gaze with mine.
It was like looking into the heart of the cosmos, a billion-billion stars and galaxies danced within the dragon’s eyes. Distantly, I could feel Revina’s divine will rushing back into my limbs, filling my heart and racing along my spine.
The dragon raised its head back up and bellowed, a huge gout of flame shooting out of its maw.
Sanderson, locked in place by overwhelming fear, finally realized it was time to run. He got up and began moving as quickly as his feet would carry him, not caring which way he went, as long as it was away from the dragon.
But the beast was far faster than any mortal. It whipped out its front claw. I heard a brief, muffled scream, and a wet crunch. The dragon then lifted its claw upward, snapping whatever remained of Sanderson between its massive jaws.
The two remaining bodyguards stood as woodenly as their foreman had, their minds unable to comprehend what was happening. The older man barely reacted as I slammed into him, my dagger stabbing underneath his armor and into his heart.
The man who had been sent to secure the wagon returned at a run. Spotting the dragon, he barely had time to react before the beast was upon him. The beast snapped down with its mouth, devouring the man in a single bite.
The last remaining bodyguard tried to run, to flee, but Nichessa’s arm shot out and gripped his ankle, bones snapping in her furious grip. He fell, and she hurled herself onto him. Raising two fists, she repeatedly hit him in the face, his skull cracking under the pummeling.
The dragon watched, impassively, only flicking out its thick, meaty tongue to lick the blood off its fangs.
Finally, I helped Vexile and Nichessa to their feet. Like me, they were weak and jittery, their spirits filled with wild, exuberant magic, even as their bodies ached from the lingering agony inflicted by the Spear.
All three of us gazed up at our divine savior. It gave one last, thunderous cry, and then it was gone, slipping back down the hole it had burrowed. Only the loose scales and the bloody carnage left in its wake testified to its existence.
Around us, the remains of the camp burned. A few Luminark guards, wounded but alive, screamed and moaned in agony, but I knew that by dawn only deadmen would be left in the ruins of the camp.
Slowly, I gathered up my queens and began limping towards the gate. We still had much to do before we returned home.
Hours later, the sun was just crawling up along the horizon as we finished our work.
“Dark Lord,” Garnet, her arm in a sling, came over. “We’ve finished loading the three crawlclaws with as many supplies as we could carry from the warehouses.”
I nodded wearily, surveying the scene.
Several prisoners had volunteered to come back to the camp, to help us locate rations, medical supplies, and spare clothing. I knew we had to take everything we could carry, much more than what was necessary for our march back to Gloomgl
ow. We needed to keep everyone fed and well until our production caught up with our exploded population.
Two hundred new citizens, I thought tiredly. We would need to find housing for all of them, and in short order.
I glanced at the huge stockpile of black iron contraband we were packing to take back with us. At least we’ll have more than enough material for the nails, screws, and everything else we’ll need to build their homes.
Rather than taking the black iron ingots and finished products stored in the Luminark warehouses, we raided Sanderson’s contraband stock instead. He had hidden all the goods in a concealed basement under his mansion. Several of the former prisoners were more than happy to help us break in and carry out all the weapons, jewelry boxes, cutlery sets, and other products that he had hidden away.
Nichessa assured me that all of them could be melted down and turned into useful items.
“You sure you want to leave all these black iron ingots and goods behind?” she had asked, as we peeked into one of the remaining warehouses, its shelves full of packed crates.
“If we take anything from here, the Luminark inquisitors are sure to notice,” I answered. “We can use fire to cover our tracks for the supplies we stole, but not with the black iron. As you said, Sanderson always met his quotas, so they should have a good idea of how much material was stocked away, awaiting the next shipment.”
“I doubt they’d blame the dragon for a bunch of missing ingots,” Vexile agreed.
“Let’s just be satisfied with what we have for now,” I told them, “we paid a dear enough price for it.”
Two of Dougherty’s soldiers had died. Raul and Vivian had been killed holding the gate. Garnet’s defense had turned into a bloody slaughter as the remaining Luminark guards had attempted to escape, almost overwhelming her and her soldiers with sheer numbers and desperate madness.
I had no idea what I was going to say to their captain, the guilt felt crushing, even though I knew they had willingly given their lives for a cause they had believed in.
Just another pain you will have to get used to, as Dark Lord, I reminded myself, as the three crawlclaws, Marl at the lead, headed towards the labor camp’s gate.