Twilight of Kerberos: Wrath of Kerberos

by Jonathan Oliver

  He scrambled to raise his guard, realising that he had left himself wide open, but the orc didn’t take advantage of the opportunity. She was making a strange mewling in the back of her throat, her sword dropping from limp fingers, as she knelt and examined one of the corpses.

  Silus knew grief when he saw it, and he remembered that it had not been the orcs that had started the fight, but Keldren’s indiscriminate killing.

  He stepped back and left the orc to her grief, sheathing his blade.

  “What are you waiting for?” Keldren shouted. “Kill it!”

  Katya and Zac had emerged from the canyon now. For a moment it seemed as if Katya would shield her son’s eyes from the slaughter, but she dropped her hand, realising the futility of the gesture; the boy had seen so much already.

  “For the love of Kerberos, man, stick it before it sticks you!” Keldren said, striding towards Silus, an ochre glow wreathing his right hand.

  This creature didn’t deserve the pain of the death the mage would give her. As the orc leader leaned over her comrade in grief, Silus drew his dagger and cut her throat. The tide of blood splashed over the body beneath her and washed up against Keldren’s boots as he came to a halt. The wizard looked down with contempt.

  “For a moment, I thought you were going to show pity for this mongrel.”

  Silus looked down at the dagger, then up at Keldren. With a self-control that everything within him fought against, he sheathed his weapon.

  KHULA HOPED THAT when they found her body she would be honoured with the rites granted to her predecessors – her bones boiled clean, dried and bleached in the sun, pounded into dust and smoked by the shamans of the tribe. Somehow, however, she doubted it. For wasn’t she as much a failure as that long-dead orc king? Hadn’t she led her tribe into death, rather than glory?

  As the drumbeat of her heart slowed, and the flood pouring from her throat became a trickle, Khula wondered by what moniker she would be remembered.

  The dragon roared, its cry echoing from the peaks and reminding her shamefully of that name she had desperately wished for, but would now never attain.

  Khula the Dragon Slayer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “I CAN’T HELP but notice that you suddenly seem a bit reticent,” Kelos said.

  The dragon’s roar came again and Keldren took another step back.

  “Surely you’ve fought dragons before?”

  “Actually, no,” Keldren said. “And as such, my magic isn’t going to be of any use. But I’ve led you to the beast, so now – once you have acquired what you need – it will be down to you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

  As they walked deeper into the shadow of the range, the azure disk of Kerberos was beginning to rise over the mountains behind them. Blue light washed over the peaks, falling into crevasses and filling hollows, moving down the mountain in a brilliant waterfall of light. This time, when the dragon called, there was music in its voice, as though it were greeting the dawn with song. Besides Silus, Emuel gasped as the tattoos that covered his body began to move.

  “Dragons are not just a source of magic,” Kelos said, seeing the change in the eunuch. “They are magic.”

  “I wish I understood what you just said,” Katya said. “But if it’s going to help us return home faster, I say we kill the thing and get out of here.”

  “Silus, you should probably hang back,” Dunsany said. “We don’t want any of the creature’s blood touching you. Not after what happened last time.”

  “So, it’s just down to you and I?” Kelos said. “No offence, my friend, but, somehow, that doesn’t fill me with confidence.”

  “We’ll be fine. We already know where a dragon is most vulnerable. Just go for the throat sacks.”

  “There’s something you don’t hear every day,” Katya said.

  The light from Kerberos touched almost every part of the mountain, now, and as it flowed towards the foot of the slope, the shale shifted overhead, a small avalanche clattering towards them.

  “As soon as it comes into view,” Kelos said, “we’ll try to flank it. I can shield us for a time but, Keldren, I’d appreciate it if you could also help out where you can; supply some magical protection, at least.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but I’ve already used much of my power getting us here.” Keldren looked ready to run, and Silus made a promise to himself that he’d cut the mage down if he attempted it.

  Emuel began to sing. Moving ahead of them, he started to climb.

  “Emuel!” Kelos hissed. “Emuel! What in the seven hells do you think you are doing?”

  The eunuch wasn’t listening, and his tattoos seemed to writhe with a greater urgency as he made his way up the slope. Dunsany was just about to rush forward and grab him when the dragon roared again, this time sounding as though it were just beyond the crest of the rise.

  More scree shifted and Emuel fell onto his back. He lay spreadeagled on the ground, helpless as the dragon hove into view.

  “Emuel, run!” Katya shouted.

  “Run, Emuel!” Zac echoed, his little hands clapping together in anxiety.

  But the eunuch did not appear to be afraid. Instead, as a great clawed foot came down next to his head, he opened his arms and smiled.

  IT WAS CALABASH. His desert saviour; the creature who had led him to water when he had been on the verge of dying of thirst, who had protected him against the savage orcs and who had refused to join in with the slaughter of his companions, when its brothers and sisters had turned on them.

  The black snout came in close, the jaws opening slightly as the creature inhaled the scent of him, but despite the sight of those scimitar teeth, he knew that he was perfectly safe.

  Emuel got to his knees and, holding the dragon’s snout and gazing into its eyes, he sang the song that had called to him all that time ago amongst the shifting dunes. For a moment, the creature stared blankly at him, and a small part of Emuel feared that he had got it horribly wrong; that the dragon would open its mouth and roast them all, just as it had done with the orcs. But then, starting low and deep within its throat, Calabash joined in with the song, its voice harmonising with Emuel’s as the tattoos on his arms twined around each other in sympathy.

  Emuel half expected their song to be joined by others – Calabash’s brethren emerging from the mountains, drawn by the music. But there was only Calabash, the last of them. This was the creature his companions would kill?

  When he heard the sounds of swords being drawn, Emuel turned to see Kelos and Dunsany moving slowly out to either side, attempting to flank the dragon. So far, the creature was unaware, its attention focused solely on the eunuch.

  “That’s it, Emuel,” Dunsany said in a low voice as he slowly approached. “That’s perfect. Just hold it for a few more moments.”

  “Please, don’t do this,” he said. “You don’t need to kill Calabash.”

  “Cala– what? You’ve named it, now?” Kelos said.

  “Calabash saved me when I was dying. When the other dragons attacked, Calabash refused to join in. This creature has done nothing to deserve this.”

  When it saw the two men moving towards it, Calabash hissed, sounding more like a huge predatory cat than a lizard.

  In response, Kelos gestured and a blue-green aura shimmered into existence around himself and Dunsany.

  “Just move slowly towards me,” Kelos said. “If you startle it, it may attack, and I don’t have the resources for another shield spell.”

  “No,” Emuel said, stepping in front of Calabash and spreading his arms wide. “I refuse.”

  “What? Emuel, you can’t be serious. You’ve seen what these things are capable of.”

  “Not Calabash.”

  “Don’t you understand? That thing is our only way home. If we don’t have the blood of the dragon, I cannot empower the spell and we’ll have to spend the rest of our lives here, thousands of years from our own time, powerless to prevent an apocalypse that will consume everythi
ng we love and care for.”

  “Then that’s the way it ends. Is this world really worth saving, Kelos? Our Twilight is a cruel place, ruled over by tyrants, divided by war and populated by a people who meekly do as they’re told. Well, I’m done with that. I won’t be told what to do anymore. I never asked to accompany you on your stupid little crusade, mage! Did you ever consider that, even for a moment?”

  “Emuel, now is really not the time,” Dunsany said. “Isn’t it a bit late for a teenage rebellion?”

  “And that’s what you all think of me, isn’t it?” Emuel’s voice was broken, high with hysteria, his chest hitching as the words finally poured out of him. “A child. Nothing more than a little boy. But I’m not even that. The Final Faith took that away from me. They destroyed my love of the Lord of All and then they wrote this foul, heathen scripture on my flesh for all to see!

  “Why do you keep me around? Without the Llothriall, what use am I?”

  “Emuel, you’re being silly,” Katya said. “Of course we need you, you’re our friend.”

  “Really?”

  Calabash grunted and they all froze, thinking the dragon was about to make its move. Emuel turned and stroked its snout, making soothing sounds as Calabash shifted, sending more shale tumbling down the slope.

  “This creature,” Emuel said, turning back to his companions, “is my friend.”

  “How can a dragon be your friend?” Kelos said. “Seriously, think for a moment how ridiculous that sounds.”

  “Because Calabash saved me when I was dying, because Calabash protected me from the orcs, and because Calabash is the only one who understand and accepts me for who I am.”

  Emuel could see the indecision in Dunsany and Kelos’s eyes, could see their reluctance to come any closer. Perhaps, he considered, he was being too harsh. But he couldn’t let them kill Calabash, even if it meant stranding them all here.

  There was the sound of a struggle further down the slope and Emuel saw Silus push Katya aside, before shooting a glance at his son that told the boy to stay back.

  “No,” Silus said. “This is not where it ends.”

  SILUS HAD FAILED Illiun and his band of refugees, had all but sent them to their dooms, and he was damned if he was now going to fail those closest to him, and the people of his own time. If they didn’t return home, then Silus knew, for certain, that the battle against Hel’ss would be lost. After all, he was the only human with the ability to directly commune with a deity – Kelos had told him as much – and so Silus would have to play his part in holding back the coming apocalypse. Now, however, Emuel seemed determined to throw that away. He understood the eunuch’s arguments – he, too, had seen Calabash refuse to join in with the slaughter of Illiun’s people – but there was far more at stake here than a relationship with an alien creature.

  “No, Emuel,” Silus said, climbing towards the eunuch and the dragon. “I’m not going to let you put our entire existence in jeopardy, just because you have fallen for some giant lizard. Now step aside and let us do what we came here to do.”

  “Silus, I told you to keep back,” Kelos said. “We don’t want you changing again.”

  “And now you’re going to use Calabash just as you have used me, is that it?” Emuel said. “Don’t you understand that this is where I want to be?”

  “Emuel, listen to yourself, you’re being ridiculous,” Katya said.

  Now that Silus was closer, he could see just how truly angry Emuel was. His flesh, where it wasn’t inked, was red, and his breathing laboured. It was clear that there was to be no reasoning with the boy. To either side, Silus could just see Dunsany and Kelos drawing close, their swords in their hands as they advanced on the dragon. For now, the eunuch was holding the beast in check, but how long would the dragon remain calm as Emuel’s anger rose?

  The shadow of the dragon fell over them all as it unfurled its wings. Silus could feel the heat, and smell the foetid stench, of its breath. Even so, he kept his attention focused on Emuel.

  “This is not an argument you can win,” he said.

  “Out of all of us,” Emuel said, “I would have expected you to understand.”

  The eunuch took a step towards him. Behind the boy, the dragon shifted, sending more shale skittering down the slope.

  “Silus, I’m telling you, you have to get away from there!” Kelos shouted.

  “I can’t do that, my friend. I’m the only one who can deal with this.”

  “And why is that, may I ask?”

  Silus stared at Emuel as his hand went slowly to his side.

  “Because,” he said. “I’m the only one of us who would even contemplate doing this.”

  And before Emuel could respond, Silus had drawn his dagger and plunged it into the eunuch’s side.

  SILUS WAS SURPRISED at just how little the eunuch weighed. He felt no more substantial than a bundle of cloth-wrapped twigs and jolted about just as loosely as he stumbled back down the slope with the boy in his arms. Behind them, the dragon squealed in pain as Dunsany and Kelos finally attacked. Despite its massive size, Silus had no doubt that they would fell the beast. But right now, that was not his main concern. Emuel had only moments before he would be beyond them.

  Ignoring the sounds of battle, and the shocked faces of Katya and Zac as he hurried past them, he gently laid Emuel at Keldren’s feet.

  “Quickly, heal him!” Silus said, looking up at the wizard.

  “What?”

  “I said heal him, now.”

  “I... I can’t.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t? You once told me that you’re one of the most powerful sorcerers on the peninsula.”

  “And I am, but I have no more magic to draw on. It took virtually everything I have to bring us all here. And then there were the orcs.”

  “But... but can’t you do something? Gods, please tell me there’s something you can do!”

  Emuel’s eyes were open and rolling wildly as he tried to focus on his surroundings. Seeing Silus, he tried to lift himself on his elbows, but the effort and the pain it caused proved too much for him. The scream rising from his throat came out as a gurgle. Blood flecked his lips.

  “I’m so sorry, Emuel,” Silus said. He had not expected it to come to this; he had made a gamble and this wizard had failed him.

  “Silus, what have you done?” Emuel whispered.

  “Keldren, do something!” Silus grabbed the wizard and pulled him to his knees. “For the sake of Kerberos, please do something!”

  But the elf looked at him blankly and, with a sound of disgust, Silus pushed him away.

  “I can fix this... I can fix this,” he said, tearing a strip of cloth from his shirt. But the bandage was too short to wrap around Emuel’s torso and even if it hadn’t been, the thin muslin did little to staunch the flow of blood.

  “Katya!” Silus shouted. “Come here and keep pressure on that wound. Don’t let go.”

  As Katya held her palm firmly against Emuel’s side, Silus blew air into his lungs, pumping his chest with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking.

  Even when Keldren’s shadow fell over them and the elf said, “He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do now,” Silus carried on. Even when Katya got to her feet and backed away, looking down in horror at her husband, he continued to try and force life back into the boy. But with each palpitation of Silus’s palms against his chest, Emuel flopped like a rag doll, and soon his flesh was too cold for life to ever return.

  Silus got to his feet and saw Kelos looking at him. The wizard was covered from head to toe in the dragon’s blood; the sword in his right hand was broken at the tip.

  “I thought that Keldren would heal him,” Silus said. “Can’t you help him, Kelos? Can’t you bring him back?”

  “I’m sorry, Silus. But there’s nothing that I can do.”

  Silus looked down at Emuel. The boy swam in his vision.

  “You killed him! You killed Emuel. What were you thinking?” From the look on Katya’s fac
e, she clearly wanted to strike him.

  “I thought that Keldren would save him,” Silus said. “We have to get home, Katya. What would you have done? When was the last time you had to make a tough decision?”

  Katya simply stared at Silus for a moment, and then shook her head, grabbing Zac’s hand and walking away. The boy looked over his shoulder at his father, tears pouring down his face.

  Silus was done with this; done with everything. He looked up at Kerberos.

  “Do something,” he whispered, but the god remained impassive, and Emuel didn’t stir.

  Silus wiped the back of his hand across his face. “Kelos?”

  “Yes, Silus?”

  “Did you get what we need?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then can we go home?”

  “Yes, Silus. Let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE PALACE AT Da’Rea sat listing to one side, like a ship taking on water. Almost half of it had fallen into the tunnels beneath the city; the remaining portion was a blackened skeleton, its grounds littered with the corpses of dwarves and elves alike. Silus could see no sign of Orlok and his comrades, and he wondered whether the dwarf was amongst the dead or whether he had abandoned the city after the destruction of the palace. The bay was crowded with the wreckage of ships, some still ablaze. In a few places he could see survivors clinging to the flotsam, calling out to compatriots or giving voice to their grief or pain. Very few vessels had survived the assault, but Silus was relieved to see that one unharmed song ship remained, still anchored at the quay.

  Keldren looked at the ruins of his former home and Silus saw the beginnings of tears in the wizard’s eyes.

  “Did we have to return?” he said. “There is... nothing left. If you’re trying to make some sort of a point...”