by Matt Khourie
The last of the shooting stars streaked away, abandoning the night to silence. The barren landscape of grey hills and craggy fissures matured into a mountain range tinged of purple peaks. Their destination drew near.
The vessel lurched, threatening to spill her passengers overboard. Poogs hit the deck hard, banging his head on the cannon’s crank. The Beast fared better, saved by his quick reflexes. He shouted to Poogs. “Are you alright?”
The pirate rolled to his rump and rubbed a growing egg on his skull. “Been better. Where did that infernal thing get off to?”
The winged horror surged from above, enraged by the sting of burning stars. The emerald flame of its unholy heart roiled over like a forge ready to explode.
“There! Coming in fast!” The Beast shouted over the rushing winds, jabbing a claw at their stalker.
Poogs ran back to the crank, pulled the handle free and reset it as a lever.
“It’s almost on top of us!” The Beast shouted.
Each mighty stroke of the dracoliche’s wings propelled it closer to the Liche Queen’s vengeance. It roared at the fleeing vessel, coating her in a thin layer of frost. Muscles spasmed in the mortal bodies aboard; the foul breath burned at their skin. Still, Poogs hesitated.
“Not yet...” Poogs exhaled a plume of steady steam from between pursed lips. He forced time to slow in his head. He took aim...
The array of cannons fired and a staccato of booms rattled the ship’s bones. The cannons recoiled and then slid back into position, reloaded by a feeder of Poogs’s own design. The projectiles slammed into their mark. Bones cracked and fractured debris exploded free. The monster roared a sour cocktail of agony and rage. It wobbled in flight for a moment, then resumed a fervid beeline.
The Beast roared his approval and pumped a fist at the successful volley. “Fire again!”
Polaris spoke softly, as though there were no danger at all. “Just a moment. Captain, if you please?” A halting hand accompanied the simple request.
The North Star closed her eyes and recited the words to a nearly forgotten spell with a hushed tongue. The night time sky tore like cloth, allowing daybreak to pour through the breach. The world was suddenly ablaze in the amber hues of morning. The dracoliche struggled against the repelling dawn like a fly caught in a spider’s web, thrashing violently and shielding its lifeless eyes.
“You may fire when ready, Captain.”
Poogs flashed a flawless porcelain smile and with a low bow threw the lever. Ear-splitting thunder exploded from the Reaper’s Song’s guns. Barrels flashed with fire and then exhaled wisps of smoke.
Hot iron pounded the stunned dracoliche, smashing away a forelimb and a portion of wing. The creature wailed a sinister howl, loosing a column of malachite shaded Blight from its maw. The blast struck the gun wale, melting the exposed tips of smoking cannons. The battered side of the ancient vessel would heal itself as it always did, but the cannons of the mortal realm were reduced to molten dead weight.
A cheer erupted on the Reaper’s Song. “Nicely done, Captain.” Polaris said.
The dracoliche’s bones pulsed with the green blaze of its fireball heart. Slowly the damaged bones reformed, stretching broken ends into fresh pieces like new. The Beast could not believe the punishment the creature had taken. To be able to regenerate altogether? How could such a foe be defeated? Any battle hardened warship or the mightiest of storm giants would surely have crumbled under the barrage.
Not so the dracoliche.
A jet of malachite blasted through the ship’s sails, splitting a mast like a tree trunk. Poogs dove aside, narrowly dodging a mess of ruined rigging and boom. With a final thrash, the dracoliche caught the Reaper’s Song, riving through the hand-carved stern. Man sized fragments were sheered free by the demon’s fangs and talons and tossed aside like match sticks.
Polaris slipped to safety in a stream of starlight just before the dracoliche pounced. Her liquescent form misted next to the Beast and solidified. A dour mask shrouded her face. “What now?”
The ship rocked under the violent frenzy. Poogs struggled from underneath a pile of fallen sheet and rigging and staggered to the helm. The pirate bumped the Beast aside without a word, reclaiming the spoked wheel. He leaned forward onto the helm, issuing warning with a wink. “Hold on.”
The Beast clamped an iron grip on the railing and threw an arm around Polaris’s waist. He nodded his readiness. Poogs returned the nod and then leaned hard into the spokes of his pride and joy. The Reaper’s Song pitched forward. Hard. Her grim figurehead laughed and aimed her blade at the mountains. Gravity seized Death’s vessel and she fell. The Beast’s stomach dropped, flipped over and threatened to evacuate. He looked to the back of the ship, hoping to be rid of the nightmare.
But the dracoliche yet gnawed on the Reaper’s Song, chewing anything its vacant eyes could claim. A tail of jagged bones bludgeoned the ship’s hull, pummeling the masterful craft work into oblivion.
“It’s still back there,” the Beast shouted.
The dracoliche reared its head, green fire rolling between its jaws.
The Beast cinched his grasp around Polaris. “It’s fir--”
Poogs threw the wheel sharply to the side. The Reaper’s Song corkscrewed over the speeding terrain, throwing the undead dragon free. Its breath sliced across the hull, rotting a gaping hole into the side. A moment later, dark smoke plumed from the ghastly wound. Poogs righted the ship, sniffing at the acrid cloud. “That bastard must have nicked the powder below. Not good. Another hit...”
“There will not be another hit.” The Beast slipped the medallion over his head and pressed the fiery gem into Polaris’s hand. “Tell my starshine that I am sorry for leaving her. Tell her that her faday loves her very much.”
Before the North Star could argue, the Beast mantled the rail and sprinted for the broken mast. He wrapped the thick column in a bear hug and snapped it free with a grunt. The splintered mast stood twice as tall as he and was banded by rings of black iron. The Beast hoped it would be enough.
He scrambled to the aft, wielding the splinter like a great lance. The dracoliche roared its approval of the challenge and dove hellishly from the clouds, wings pinned like a bird of prey.
“Donovan!” Polaris cried.
The Beast did not hear her plea, did not turn, did not stop running. His powerful legs coiled and he leapt from the ship with the makeshift spear readied overhead. Time slowed to a crawl. He soared at his foe like a warding angel, forever vigilant.
The dracoliche bared its fangs, sensing the dangerous morsel ahead. It summoned the emerald fire from the pit of its evil heart. A last moment of harmonious silence passed. The demon’s jaws widened. The Beast raised his lance higher.
The Beast smashed the dracoliche’s head aside with a sweeping back hand, then quickly grabbed hold of a collar bone. The dracoliche’s tail whipped up, slicing the Beast’s back as he struggled to maintain his hold. The Beast dug into a cracking rib and then hammered a blow into the monster’s spine. The dracoliche reeled from the strike, spiraling and thrashing in a wide corkscrew. The Beast dug in harder, raining down blow after blow. The dracoliche’s skull swiveled and fired an emerald jet.
The Beast ducked just in time. The dracoliche wailed in agony at the stinging burn of its misfire. A skeletal wing disintegrated to nothing, shedding a trail of dust. Its flight teetered. The Beast knew he had his chance.
With two hands on the Reaper’s Song’s mast he drove the splintered weapon into the dracoliche’s side. The demon lurched as the spear pierced the pulsing orb of emerald fire in its breast. The blaze of Pandora’s gift flickered and died without a whimper. The Beast clung to the plummeting corpse. Together they plunged faster, veering to the forest covered mountains rushing to greet them. In the distance, a thick plume of smoke strangled the sky. The ship...
The dracoliche exploded against the landscape, throwing the Beast free. He
careened threw the forest, smashing tree trunks into pulp. Something cracked beneath him and a shooting pain raced up his thigh and bored into his brain. He collided with a massive pine that tossed him to the ground like a penniless drunkard. His head swam in the pain and dizziness of the chaotic ride. Blackness swallowed his mind and the edges of his vision faded. He forced himself to hold on to his restored memory.
The smoke... the ship...
My name is Dono--
Lia...
Chapter 31
The Beast stirred. He rubbed at his stomach, hungry as usual. Thick copses of trees shrouded a sky glowing with the hint of dawn. From his back, he regarded the wall of timber. It was unfamiliar, foreign. The trees made him feel unwelcome. His grove always felt welcoming and sure. He could name all of the trees, in fact they said he had been the first to do so. These trees were nameless; not a single voice mustered among them.
He had to leave...
The Beast stood, wincing at a sharp pain gnawing his leg. He massaged the wounded limb, his paw coming away with no blood. The unseen wound throbbed nonetheless. What had happened?
His first steps seared and the wounded leg threatened to collapse. A few more moments of rest, perhaps. The Beast braced his broad back against an equally broad tree and slid to the ground. He rubbed again at the injured limb, still struggling to fill in the blanks. Much appreciated warmth of amber-blond hues seeped through the snow blanketed trees. The sun’s kiss felt good on his face. He smiled at the glow, grateful that the king of stars hadn’t yet forsaken him.
A sniff of something bitter stole his solace. Wafts of blackness inked the morning’s delicate shine. Smoke. Memory hit him. The ship, the dracoliche.
Lia.
The Beast clawed at the tree and pulled himself upright. He limped into the woods, heading for the smoke’s source. His pulse quickened. There was no way of knowing how badly the ship was damaged. Hopefully Poogs had set her down before the powder keg ignited...
He pushed the morbid thought aside along with a thick tangle of scratching briar. His wounded leg conspired evilly against him. Crawling pain swallowed it whole.
Soon, the trees thinned and the Beast found a great gouge gored into the land. It conjured instantly memories of the island’s crater. The Reaper’s Song slept on a nest of felled trees, smoke pouring from her side. Two of her masts were split in half and hung limply like broken branches. The Beast dragged his own broken limb, nearly tripping over what debris remained of the ship’s proud figurehead. The bust’s eyes stared sadly from the mud at her severed body yet mounted to the ship.
“Lia!” The Beast bellowed, “Lia, where are you?” He cleared a path through the rubble, heaving aside the ship’s broken bones. He sniffed the acrid cloud and climbed through the smoking breach in the hull.
The ship’s tight corridor was thick of swirling black smoke and the stench of Poogs’s explosive powder. The Beast pushed a splintered shipping crate aside. The door to the captain’s quarters was a dozen steps ahead, swinging from a lone broken hinge.
“No...” The Beast barreled through the door. The blackness shrouded even his sharp vision. He hacked a breath and grasped his way through the room, inching forward until something soft bumped his knee.
The bed.
“Lia!” The Beast scooped his arms down, retrieving an empty armful of soot covered linens.
Lia was gone.
Panic gripped his throat with icy fingers. He dropped to his knees, searching under the bed. Nothing. The Beast flipped the bed over in a fit and then limped back outside.
“Lia!” Grief edged its way into his voice. He shouted her name again, but received only the whispering wind for reply. He hobbled to a nearby stump and gingerly lowered himself. The pain throbbed worse with each stricken heartbeat. He had failed her again.
“The Donovan I know would not give in so easily.”
The Beast spun to the trees at his right.
“My queen! You’re alive!” The Beast rushed to Polaris and wrapped his arms around her, relieved to no end. “Where’s my daughter? And the pirate?”
Polaris gestured behind her. A shroud of shimmering invisibility fell to the forest floor, revealing the hidden pirate. Poogs sat awkwardly, leaning against a snow laden pine. Giant beads of sweat trickled from his brow. An outstretched arm with trembling fingers clutched the grip of a flint lock pistol. The pirate cradled a bundle of blankets to his chest. Locks of damp chocolate hair flowed over the swaddling.
Forgetting his wound, the Beast scrambled over and knelt by Poogs’s side. Carefully, he took hold of the little girl in the pirate’s arms. Poogs grimaced but managed a portion of a smile. The Beast placed a paw on Poogs’s shoulder. “This is the second time I find myself in your debt.”
“Twas nothing my savage friend. Only what any father would’ve done.”
The Beast rocked Lia in his arms. Her breaths labored in little wheezes. She yet clung to life, but none could say for how much longer. He regarded the remains of the fallen ship. The shattered masts, gashed side, and chewed stern painted a picture of grim prospects for flight.
“How much further to the fountain?”
The North Star smiled at Poogs, then pointed through the wall of snowy trees towards the sounds of rushing water. “The masterful skill of our captain friend has all but delivered us.”
The Beast jumped to his feet, searching for the fountain, incredulous that they should be so lucky to have survived all they had and managed to land on top of their destination.
“If only it were that easy,” Polaris said, with an air of sympathy. She motioned for her champion to lower his head. She stretched the chain of the medallion wide, then set it around the Beast’s neck. “Much better.”
The medallion’s ruby warmth caressed Lia’s face and she burrowed into the thick of the Beast’s mane. He had all he required to see things done. Once and for all.
“Follow the stream through the woods. It shall lead you to the glade the fountain calls home. Let nothing stop you.” Polaris’s tone firmed and the Beast knew all too well the importance of listening. “The fountain feeds a pool serving as its base. It is within that pool you must unlock the medallion’s power.”
The Beast nodded his understanding and tested the weight on his leg. It protested with a searing sting, but could not break his will. It would take more than broken bones.
“Donovan, you must remember the fountain’s rules. Even a magic as powerful as Wynisahil has limitations. Do not ask for more than you need.”
The Beast leveled his brow into a curious expression, but grunted his understanding. Poogs twisted himself upright on a cushion of snowy moss, calling for the Beast to halt. The unlikely friends clasped forearms. He tugged against the Beast’s grasp, pulling himself upright.
“I’m coming with you.” Poogs propped himself against the tree and checked the pistol’s charge.
The Beast wished the pirate could come with him, but one look spoke volumes of Poogs’s condition. The pistol was nearly dancing free of his hand. Though he would have appreciated the fearless rogue by his side, the Beast knew Poogs was in no position to fight. This next step was one he had to take alone. He gently pushed the pirate back to the ground.
“Look after her for me,” the Beast said.
Poogs sighed his resignation. “With my last breath, my savage friend.” Poogs clapped the Beast on the shoulder, then on the hip. “You’d best get a move on then.”
Soon after, the woods swallowed father and daughter and the Reaper’s Song disappeared amongst the trees. The Beast huddled Lia to his chest as he slogged through the spongy mix of snow and mud. For the first time since losing his memory, he found himself desiring the company of friends. Life was not meant to be a stark voyage mired in solitude. He knew that now.
He thought of Cedrik and their fencing lessons and lectures. He thought of his stern, but reliably guiding words in those
dark moments tainted by defeat. Cedrik was always there, always the one to drive him on, to never let him give in. Not to pain. Not to social convention.
Never to fear.
Every trudging step was tribute to his fallen mentor and he took them proudly, adding fuel to his resolve.
A short hike from the crashed ship, the Beast found the murmuring stream. The sparkling water babbled softly to itself as it rushed over stones of muddy brown and soft grays. The fire in the Beast’s leg gnawed at muscle and bone, spasming every so often as a reminder. Not too much further...
The Beast trundled his ward up a graciously gentle slope that peaked with a breath taking view of the forest. The woodland mural was painted in frozen, muted tones of mountain winter: slices of sage green pines peeked out from behind a shield of icy bluish snow. A fresh, chilling wind blustered up the slope at his heels, then climbed over his back. It was an invigorating spark that reminded him of his far away home on the Great Road. He inhaled, drawing in as much of the pristine air as he could, then let twin columns of billowing steam jet from his snout.
It was then the Beast saw it.
The fountain waited patiently across the valley’s floor. Its pools numbered three and appeared carved from starlight infused ivory. Glowing runoff provided by the twilight’s radiant stars poured from finely bored ports at the fountain’s precipice and cascaded into the sparkling basins below.
Magic’s magnificent provenance shined glory into the world, blessing each gusting wind, every guardian tree. The very earth hummed with the fountain’s grace. The Beast understood immediately why Polaris had kept the fountain a secret. Such a thing was too fragile for the mortal world and the dark desires of Man’s heart. The wellspring was one of a kind, meant for greater purposes than glory and riches. All that was good and green in the world came from this place. He knew it as sure as he knew the sun would rise after the darkest night.
The Beast no more than lifted a paw for the first step down when a great shadow fell upon the land. A giant blot of indigo swirled within a tempest of black lightning. The storm tore through the wounded sky, leaving a gash of dark space in its wake. He ambled into the valley, taking cover under a canopy of drooping branches. He poked a hole through the snow cover, quickly locating the strange storm. Solid, twisted shapes slowly materialized and emerged from the heart of the storm.