by Pirateaba
“I think you have already done that. She is under my protection, Chandler. Remember that. Your undead are no match for my wrath.”
Again the two locked gazes. This time Teriarch was the first to look away. He spoke a curt word and flicked his wings. The image vanished.
In the silence, Az’kerash looked around the now-destroyed room. He sensed the havoc Teriarch’s fire had wrought, and heard his servants screaming for his aid, still aflame. Slowly, Az’kerash sat on the ground, brushing ash from his robes.
“That ended poorly.”
He paused. And then smiled as he put a finger to his lips.
“Or perhaps not. Hmm.”
—-
Fire. Ryoka saw fire. She heard Teriarch’s roar, saw him hurl Venitra and then fly out of his cavern after her. And the fire—it burned through the air, searing, shining bright despite Ryoka’s closed eyelids.
So hot. So…pure. It was fire, and it made every flame, every bonfire and firework and campfire Ryoka had seen before it seem pale in comparison. To see Teriarch breathe fire was to understand it. She stared up as the Dragon roared and felt tears evaporate on her face.
“It’s beautiful.”
Then she cried for other reasons too. She cried for Ivolethe and walked back through the empty pass to the place where ice had mostly melted away. A few large chunks remained, melting in the now burning air. And on the ground…a shining splash of wet. A few droplets that had once been ice. Ryoka bent and touched the water. It dripped from her fingertips and evaporated.
She blinked, and her eyelids drooped. Ryoka lay down on the ground.
When she opened her eyes next, Ryoka was flying. For real this time. She looked around and realized she must have passed out. Because she could not explain how she was looking down at the world. The air rushed around her as Ryoka saw snow below her, tiny houses, clouds—she looked around, panicking as she realized she was up high, and then saw the claw.
It was gripping her gently, a talon of burnished bronze scales. Ryoka looked up and saw Teriarch.
He was flying. Or rather, gliding. The huge Dragon flew through the night’s sky, high, high above the ground. Like an airplane. His wings barely moved as they spread wide through the air. Occasionally they would flap, but Ryoka had a distinct impression they were moving far too quickly for the wings to do much.
It was cold this high up. So cold. Ryoka felt the icy chill of the air around her and would have frozen, but Teriarch’s claws were warm. They radiated heat, enough to keep her more than comfortable. Slowly, Ryoka shifted, and the Dragon sensed it, minute though the motion was.
“You are awake.”
“Yeah.”
It was an unfulfilling exchange after everything that had happened. Ryoka twisted in Teriarch’s grip to look up at him better. The Dragon turned his head and she saw one massive eye looking at her.
“Am I dreaming?”
“No.”
She felt him chuckle through his talon. Teriarch smiled, and then looked down. So did Ryoka. The world flew past her below. Ryoka stared. There was no comparing this with sitting in an airplane and staring out a window. It wasn’t like skydiving or gliding. She flew through the night sky, impossibly fast, and yet the wind did not roar in her ears. There was silence around the Dragon, and the air was calm around him. Ryoka looked down, through clouds, across a frozen world.
This was the sight a Dragon saw. She felt her heart in her chest shake. Her heart.
“You brought me back to life.”
“It was not hard. A death spell destroys very little. And I am a master of magic.”
Again, the Dragon smiled, but this time it was sadly. He bent his head as he flew to look at her.
“The Necromancer. He came after you because you knew where he resides, didn’t he? I did not expect that. I…apologize.”
Ryoka stared at him. She tried to find the helpless rage, the despair and contempt she’d felt for his indifference. But she couldn’t. She had died. Ivolethe had died. There was only the truth, empty and painful. Truth, and beauty. She stared into the eyes of a Dragon and nodded.
“Yeah. He did. He killed a good person. And Ivolethe died to stop him.”
Teriarch nodded. He looked past her, down at a mountain below. Then he swerved to move out of the way of a peak that rose in the sky, higher than he was flying. Ryoka stared at it as she flew past. The slopes were covered in ice. It was a world unto itself up here and she could swear she saw something moving across the ice and rocks. Then it was gone, lost behind a cloud. Teriarch’s voice was quiet.
“He will not come after you again. I have spoken with the Necromancer and we have reached an accord. You are under my protection.”
“Why? I thought you didn’t care about mortals.”
“Then why did you come to me?”
“Because I hoped you would. Because it wasn’t fair. Because I didn’t know what else to do.”
Silence. The Dragon nodded once. Ryoka looked at him.
“I shouldn’t tell anyone about Az’kerash or his servants, right?”
“That is what he wishes. And perhaps it would be wise. But I will not force you. Not now.”
She looked at him. He looked at her. Ryoka tried to wiggle an arm. Teriarch’s claw opened a fraction so she could scratch at a cheek. She didn’t feel fear, though his grip was loosened on her thousands of miles in the air. She felt safe with him.
“Are you going…to put a spell on me?”
There was a pause. Teriarch’s head glanced down at Ryoka.
“Another geas spell? No. There is little point it seems. And you—you have paid for the knowledge you possess. Paid far too much for it.”
“Thanks.”
He said nothing. Ryoka stared down. She thought she could actually recognize where they were now. A narrow pass led south, in a gap between the mountain ranges. She and Teriarch flew over a city, tiny below them, and entered a valley where the mountains formed a natural basin.
It was a beautiful, still sight, as flecks of snow whirled around them. The snow covered the area, making it shine. Winter. This high up you couldn’t see how it had melted or turned to mud where the snow was thin. But winter was ending. It had ended.
Ivolethe was gone. Struck by that sudden realization, Ryoka fought back tears. Then gave in. Her voice croaked.
“Teriarch?”
“Yes?”
She took a breath.
“Why did he—I mean, I know. But why did—why did she—why…?”
She tried to ask the question she had no words for. Teriarch listened as she choked on her words and fell silent. He did not respond.
The Dragon flew lower now, gliding down through the clouds. He whispered a word and Ryoka saw his body vanish. She looked down and realized she’d vanished as well.
They landed in the snow within sight of Liscor’s walls. On the east side, so Ryoka couldn’t see Erin’s inn. Teriarch let go of Ryoka, placing her gently on the ground.
She stumbled, fell to her knees, jolted awake by the cold snow. Ryoka looked at her hands and realized she was visible again. Teriarch was still a ghost, but his voice was clear in the night’s silence.
“I am sorry. I did not mean for this to happen.”
She looked at him, where he should be. A Dragon stood on the ground, a legend. His wings spread wide, and his scales shone in the moonlight. His eyes were deeper than the stars. He was real.
But she couldn’t see him. And if she closed her eyes, Ryoka could imagine it was all a dream. This world, everything she’d been through. Magic didn’t exist. She couldn’t actually cast spells, monsters weren’t real, and there was no wonder. The world was empty of such things.
But she remembered a laughing blue creature of frost and wind. She saw the world freeze and heard a faerie’s voice. Ryoka reached out and touched a scale, hot and warm and real in the silence.
Magic was real. You just had to believe.
Ivolethe was gone. Brunkr was dead. Az’ke
rash…there were a thousand things she could say. Ryoka said none of them. She felt Teriarch’s body shift and stepped back.
He leapt into the sky. She felt a gust of wind that knocked her over, and then heard his voice.
“I am sorry.”
And then he was gone.
Ryoka got up slowly. She began to walk, stumbling through the ice and snow, towards Liscor. Her heart hurt. Her entire body felt…tired. It felt like she really had died back there, and the last few moments had been a pleasant illusion. But she believed.
The gate were barred when Ryoka reached them. The guards on the gates aimed arrows and wands at her. They cried out when they saw her. Ryoka stumbled into the city, as people rushed towards her. There was too much to say, too little she could say.
But she’d come back in time. Come back before Relc, bypassing the patrols searching for her and Regrika. They were called in. Zel and Ilvriss returned. Ryoka found the Horns of Hammerad nursing their wounds and Mrsha and Lyonette with Krshia and every Gnoll in the city. And Erin—she found her with the Gold-rank adventurers in her inn, surrounded by the Antinium.
Ryoka was silent through it all. She couldn’t explain, couldn’t answer any questions. Not now. She told them it was over, and then realized it wasn’t. Not yet.
She had made it back in time for the funerals.
—-
Erin stood in the snow and looked at the two bodies wrapped in a shroud. They were Brunkr’s remains, and Ulrien’s body. The cloth they were covered in was white. It seemed to blend together with the snow. Only the pyre of wood separated them from the cold oblivion around them.
She looked to one side and saw Ryoka standing by herself in the cold. The Runner had a dazed look on her face, as if she were dreaming while awake. She was alone, for all people surrounding her. No one stood by her side. Many watched. Zel and Ilvriss, and his followers. A group of Guardsmen including Relc and Klbkch. The Antinium.
Everyone was here. And that was odd. Gnolls from Liscor, adventurers from Celum, Drakes of all colors, the Horns of Hammerad, Griffon Hunt, the Halfseekers, Lyonette, Mrsha, and Pawn, Bird, and the other Antinium—they were all here. Erin would never have expected to see Xrn and Klbkch sharing space with Zel and Ilvriss, for all they stood on opposite sides of the pyre.
It was like a dream. Yes, that was how it felt. A bad dream that she couldn’t wake up from. Erin stared at her hands.
Her right hand was bandaged. It had broken, and though the healing potion had fixed her skin and Pisces had helped with the bone, she had been ordered not to use it. Her injury was one of the few present. Zel, Ilvriss, even Revi, Seborn, and Typhenous all looked like normal.
The only injured were Jelaqua, Moore, and Halrac. Halrac had bandages over his ribs. Moore’s fist had been broken like Erin’s and he was still recovering from the healing of his other wounds. And Jelaqua—Erin glanced at the Selphid.
The top of Jelaqua’s head had been sewn together in a hurry. It was hard to see the stitches at a distance, but up close they were noticeable. The Selphid was still active, though. She seemed to be wincing as she cradled her stomach. But she stood with the others, watching the bodies.
There was no priest. No one to say any words. And there was no ceremony. The Gnolls, led by Krshia, approached Brunkr’s shroud. Krshia bent. The Gnoll [Shopkeeper] bent to touch Brunkr, then put something by his body. A sword. His sword.
Someone else put his shield there. Another added a part of his armor, someone else a piece of clear stone, a gift, perhaps. The Gnolls put their tributes by their fallen brethren.
Ulrien had no gifts by his body. His greatsword and equipment had been removed. He lay, silent, as the adventurers stood around him. Some were crying. Typhenous wept openly. Revi brushed at angry tears.
Both Ceria and Yvlon were crying, and Erin thought that Ksmvr and Jelaqua might have if they could. Moore closed his eyes and Seborn stared silently at Ulrien.
No one said anything. Not Halrac, not Typhenous, not Revi. They had been like this all night. After Ryoka had appeared out of nowhere and told them that both Ikriss and Regrika were gone, they’d demanded questions, argued. Halrac had to be restrained by both Moore and Jelaqua from grabbing Ryoka.
Now they were quiet. The Gnolls finished paying their last respects. Erin, Lyonette, and Mrsha were last. They had known Brunkr, each in their own way.
Lyonette was first. She walked over to Brunkr, tears dripping into the snow. She knelt next to the body and bowed her head. Mrsha walked up next to her, clumsily, on two feet. She buried her head into the shroud and moaned. It was the only sound Erin had ever heard her make besides barking and crying.
After forever, a few minutes, Lyonette pulled at Mrsha. The Gnoll tried to hold on, but the girl gently made her let go. Erin stepped up, last. She looked down at Brunkr.
“I—”
She had no words. Erin fiddled with her hands, and placed something on the ground next to Brunkr. It was a flower, yellow, small. A faerie’s flower. It was the only flower she could find. Erin wiped at her face and stepped back.
“Is there anyone who wishes to speak? If so, now is the time.”
Krshia called out. The Gnoll’s eyelids were puffy and her voice was hoarse from howling. The Gnolls had called out after hearing what Regrika had done. They had called her traitor, and howled until they could not any longer.
Now they were silent. No one spoke, so Krshia took a torch from one of the Gnolls. She approached the shroud where Brunkr lay. On the other side, Halrac reached out and took a torch that Typhenous lit with magic. They walked up to the silent bodies and lowered the flames.
The shrouds lit. They were doused with oil and made to burn easily. Erin stared as the fire caught one edge of Brunkr’s shroud, and leapt from the torch onto the chest of Ulrien’s covering. The flames began to spread slowly, and then engulfed both bodies. Halrac and Krshia stepped slowly back from the blazes.
Cremation. It was the way Drakes did it, and some Gnolls and Humans. Buried bodies might come back unless treated properly. And burning made sure that their corpses could not be plundered. Gold-rank adventurers were stripped of their equipment and cremated for that reason; to avoid being despoiled by thieves.
Now Erin glanced at Griffon Hunt again. They had not said much as they prepared their friend. They had been so silent it hurt. She looked at Halrac, his face set, his jaw clenched. Typhenous, head bowed and Revi staring defiantly into the flames as tears streamed down her eyes. They had to say something.
Then Halrac moved. He reached for something. His bow. The people around him, adventurers who had known Ulrien, stood back as Halrac selected an arrow from his quiver. The arrow’s head shone with light, painful in the darkness.
Halrac put the arrow to his bow, aimed up, and loosed. A single shot, high, high up into the night. He put another arrow to his bow, drew, and loosed. The second arrow shot up and met the first.
There was a soundless explosion in the sky above. Erin shielded her eyes as the two magical arrows burst. Halrac reached for a third arrow, and Revi moved.
She had talismans in her hands. They glowed, and she threw them to the ground. Ghostly warriors rose, warriors and mages wearing glowing armor. She pointed, and they shot their weapons upwards. Revi raised a wand and shot crackling lightning into the sky as one of Halrac’s arrows exploded into a fireball, high above.
Typhenous raised his staff. Dancing missiles of light, arrows that left streaks through the air shot upwards. Hundreds of them. They crisscrossed the other spells and arrows. Typhenous pointed, and orbs of light rose, exploding high overhead.
For a moment, the three were the only ones filling the sky. Then Erin saw someone else move. Jelaqua raised something in her hands. It was a ball of liquid. She threw it up and the alchemist’s fire exploded, showering down burning fragments. Moore raised his staff and leaves shot into the air, catching fire and burning. Seborn threw something that turned into a cloud of dust that shimmered in the air.
They weren’t alone. Ceria shot ice up into the air in a stream of frozen vapors. Yvlon hurled something like what Jelaqua had thrown, only smaller. Pisces shot sparks, and Ksmvr shot an arrow from his quiver.
Around the gathering, other adventurers were doing the same. Everyone who had known Ulrien in passing or in person raised their weapons. Those who were mages shot spells up. Others used arrows, aiming away from the crowd. Those without either threw alchemist concoctions, or used artifacts.
The sky was filled with light and flashes. Explosions. Erin stared up. Fireworks filled the sky, in a world where they had never been invented. Because there was no need.
“Magic and might. Spells and tricks. Ammunition and weapons for him in the next life. A last goodbye, to show his enemies he is not forgotten. A tribute to who he was. A promise he will be avenged.”
Erin turned. Klbkch stood behind her with Xrn by his side. Neither Antinium raised their weapons. They were not adventurers. Neither was Erin. She stood in the silence until Halrac had fired his last shot, and the flames were dying down. There was little left of either body but ash.
What happened then? Erin couldn’t remember who was the first to step away, but she knew who was last. Halrac stood by Ulrien’s remains, and Krshia by Brunkr. The others went back to the city, to the inn.
That night Erin let Ishkr and Drassi serve the food, what she’d stockpiled. Wind blew against the hastily-repaired hole in the wall, and there weren’t enough tables or chairs, but her guests didn’t care. They sat on the ground or stood with plates and mugs in hand, somber, quiet.
She and Lyonette couldn’t do it. Drinks were free, as was food, and the people in her inn ate and talked quietly. They drank to remember, and then drank to forget.
That night, Erin let Mrsha have something to drink, and put a drop of faerie flower nectar in her drink. The Gnoll fell asleep in Lyonette’s arms, and then Lyonette fell asleep after Erin gave her a similar mug. Erin offered it to Halrac when he came in, but he shook his head and sat with his teammates, alone and silent.