by Scott Taylor
The enigma cast Tør Vallor a look that bordered on the humiliatingly pitiful.
Tør drew a breath to state what he believed was the truth, and a greave injustice:
‘I am not being naïve! They really did save me!’
‘Trust me, Ambassador, when I tell you…’ and the enigma cast Fabian an accusing look. ‘It was all an elaborate rouse to test our strength, to see if we could truly take Mundor in a confrontation.’
‘Don’t be idiotic!’ Fabian felt his good temper waning. ‘Why do you think we requested a peaceful solution in the first place? It was because we knew you outnumbered us twenty to one! We are merely one realm. You command many. My gods, if we had wanted to start a war with you we would have simply cast the first shot. We’d have decimated as many of you as possible in one swift stroke, but we didn’t because we respected and feared your might. We certainly wouldn’t have gone to all this elaborate trouble simply to kidnap the Ambassador, only to commit suicide! Where is the sense in that?’
‘Listen to him! He tells the truth’ the Ambassador beseeched.
The enigma lowered his red-tinged eyes introspectively, and then looked at Fabian, at once appearing to lose the hardness of his features.
‘There is much that I do not understand about this whole affair’ he said, ‘but I will grant that there is not enough evidence to support or condone what is occurring here.’
Tør witnessed the sudden thoughtfulness upon the enigma’s face. He saw this as an opportunity to speak further:
‘My kidnapping must be investigated further, but do not allow prejudice or mistrust to destroy peace, a peace that may still benefit our two peoples. Call off the war and allow justice to be served through the complete process of the law.’
The enigma turned on his heels.
The horn blower, a solitary Sinistrom soldier, watched his commanding officer approach him.
‘Sound the horn’ the enigma said to him. ‘Tell the troops to stand down immediately.’
As the horn blower began to press his lips against the mouth piece he noticed a large object hurling towards them. It was a huge rock, no doubt launched by one of the titans.
The horn blower and the enigma began to back away, but this errant rock was upon them in an instant. There wasn’t much time. They were both crushed in a brief moment.
The Ambassador stood there, speechless. The whole senseless horror of it had not fully sunk in. Fabian, realising all was probably not lost yet, placed his hand on his lover’s shoulder.
‘Come on! There’s nothing we can do for them! Come on, we have to go!’
Fabian took him by the hand and guided him to the dragon that was waiting for them. They mounted the great beast. In no time at all, they were airborne again.
◆◆◆
King René was still up on the battlements. His men had successfully repelled an attempt by the enemy to reach the higher walls using wooden ladders. He watched with amazement as, upon the distant wall, a dragon had docked, letting off two passengers, the Sinistrom Ambassador and his son.
‘What does that boy think he’s doing?’ the king raged, drawing his sword, running in the direction of the two young people.
Malecarjan turned his head, looking down upon the battlements as the king ran toward his son and the Ambassador.
The black clad knight ordered his flying steed to take wing near the ramparts between the two siblings. The giant crow did as its master commanded. Before long, Malecarjan was soaring over the parapets. Bowmen were firing their arrows to try and repel the invader. Malecarjan jumped from his mount, drawing his sword as he freefell, and landed squarely upon the wall, slaughtering as many armed parties that presented themselves.
King René, seeing the obstacle that stood betwixt him and his son, stopped dead in his tracks. Malecarjan stood still, his back arched, his head low, turned to view the king of Mundor. Eyes burned like a sizzling furnace behind the shield grating of his helmet. His sword, freshly bloodied, was drawn from the gizzard of a victim, sadly not the last either. The cruel warmonger turned his head and then rose to full stature, and then commenced to stride along the battlements, his confidence unmatched. He walked towards the king. René prepared his sword to repel the trespasser. Malecarjan stood at least a couple of feet taller than his adversary, though René had seen off a number of giants in his day. He was unafraid.
He swung his sword, though missed. The dark-clad knight knocked the potentate backwards with a burst of magic that surged from his black gauntlet.
‘No!’ shouted Fabian, running to protect his father. In mid dash he metamorphosed before the invader’s eyes. Human muscle and sinew was quickly replaced by reptilian power and strength. The neck elongated to sprout the fanged head and red eyes. The hands and feet became larger and clawed. The giant webbed wings developed as well, sprouting from his back like violent sepals.
Malecarjan summoned what was left of the magic he had stolen from the Skylantern, and used it to repel the Dragon Tolan. Fabian was thrust backwards by an energy barrier, knocking him out for a brief time.
The Ambassador, who had never witnessed Fabian’s transformation before, watched but could barely believe. Fabian was indeed the Dragon Tolan? He was indeed the creature that had plucked him from the market square, only to kidnap him, and use him to start this horrific war! This revelation was truly startling.
The shadowy knight turned back to the king who had barely begun to pick himself up after his last attack.
‘Proof enough’ Malecarjan spoke, pointing to the Dragon Tolan laying unconscious, ‘is it not? Your son and that creature, both one and the same, and you conspired to kidnap our liege.’
The Ambassador was utterly speechless. Obviously his belief and trust in his friend, Fabian, had started to wane. He had witnessed Fabian become the dragon that had aided his kidnapping. What was he supposed to think? Who was he supposed to trust? Malecarjan was right—Fabian had been the villain all along!
Malecarjan poised before the king of Mundor and motioned towards the prince/Dragon Tolan on the floor.
‘This boy dragon’ he began, ‘this mutation, abortion, started your war, King René! You fathered a monster, and, like all monsters, he has no awareness of right or wrong, no ethical, moral fibre. As such, he saw fit to start this war by extravagant and nefarious means. Obviously, the apple fell slightly further from the tree, as I gather, since you, King René, would have been loutish enough simply to draw first blood, literally speaking of cause.’
‘How dare you!’ the king raged, clambering to his feet at last. As Fabian transformed back into a boy, finding consciousness again, he looked on as Malecarjan picked his father up via his throat, and let him dangle there for a time, suspended above the parapets.
‘You, René, you are the one who sat by and let your degenerate son kidnap the Ambassador. I ought to choke you here and now. But I believe in poetic justice. You who tend to dragons…You who fathered a dragon…You will learn the true power of the dragon.’
Malecarjan hurled the man a distance.
‘This is your punishment, your highness!’
King René landed a few meters away, clutching at his throat and choking, gasping for air. Fabian looked at his father, kneeling. He had just had the wind knocked out of him. Fabian then regarded the monster that stood between them, his back facing him. Malecarjan did not notice the prince as he ran to join his father, though noticed quickly the approaching footfalls, and did nothing to hinder the son and heir as he darted passed him, showing concern and compassion for the fallen king.
‘Father!’ he called.
Malecarjan summoned the last ounce of power and sent a blast hurtling towards the ground where King René lay. Fabian dived suddenly, holding his hand out in a bid to save his father from falling to his death. The stone crumbled and collapsed beneath the king’s feet. Fabian managed to clasp the man’s hand just as he was about to plunge.
The warmonger leaped upon his riding crow and soared into the
sky, cackling stridently as he watched his handiwork.
King René knew his end had come with the dishonour which had been laid at his feet by his only son.
‘You degenerate bastard!’ René spat poison back at Fabian as he dangled hundreds of meters above the lower levels of the castle. ‘I should have killed you when you were a child. Monster, let go of me! Let me fall!’
The king flailed about as he spoke.
Fabian felt the strain on his arm. Tears of stress and pain began to pour down his face as the man, his father, suspended above a death-dealing height, began to squeeze his hand tightly, allowing the increasing pressure to hurt his son. Fabian recalled just how tightly his father could grip another’s hand. The boy gritted his teeth as the pain shot up his arm suddenly.
‘Father! Stop it now! I want to save you! Give me your other hand! Please! I did not betray you! Please, let me pull you up!’
‘No! I am dishonoured, and I am ashamed to have you as my son. I would sooner die than live another second on this dark day.’
The pain of his father’s crushing grip mixed with the agony of his words was truly too much for the prince to bear.
‘It was a lie!’ the boy went on explaining. ‘Malecarjan lied. I didn’t betray you! I was set up!’
At that moment, Fabian lost his grip. He watched his father fall to his death, and shouted after him, the sound that stuck in the Ambassador’s ears, the chords of which strummed at his heartstrings like a desolate player.
Tør went over to Fabian and held him close in his arms. The prince kicked and yelled, and suffered greatly over the sudden loss. A massive blast took half the battlements in a deafening explosion of fire. The wall shook and Fabian looked up at the sky, blood-red with the conflagrations of battle.
Rising slowly to his feet, the prince felt the heat of anger poach within the centres of his mind, and his eyes. Yes, he rose. He mounted the upper battlements and looked down upon the frenzy of battle below.
Tør rose also as he watched, concerned that grief would take his friend and hurl his poor, misunderstood life down into the ditch of death that lay before him.
He called his name. It was far too late.
Fabian stood up and, taking one look at his father’s doomed kingdom, decided finally to allow vengeance to consume him. He stepped up onto the ramparts and hurled himself off of them, his lover screaming behind him.
The Dragon Tolan once again showed itself, splaying its wings apart as it circled the battlefield.
Tør ran to the spot and stared over the edge.
It came as a relief to witness the Tolan, Fabian’s strange though magnificent alter ego as it rose higher and higher, only to dive, casting its body over the unsuspecting hordes of the Sinistrom below.
The seven Skylantern Dragons merged in formation with Fabian.
The mages in the meantime looked up at that glorious moment as the reptiles in collusion rushed over them, sending up a great draft of air that brought many of the Sinistrom hurtling off their feet. The other mages sought cover amidst the hollows as the Mecha Villeforms and their monstrous allies stood mesmerised. There was merely a second’s calm as the dragons in formation moved back round for another pass, this time opening up with everything they had, scorching the battlefield with the most hottest fire known to man: dragon fire!
Maggot riders were reduced to bone as the flesh was melted from their bodies. One Titan drew his weapon to take out a Skylantern only to have his head bitten clean off by one of them taking up the rear. Its red eyes rolled back as it devoured the giant, followed by another that swallowed the rest of the arms, legs, feet, the lot.
The remaining Sinistrom simply ran for the deep furrows of the marshlands beyond. It was a massive withdraw.
Malecarjan, realising that the war was lost, fled for the horizon atop his giant crow mount. His desire for blood was sated in any case.
Chapter 12
At the battlements the Ambassador looked on and sobbed for the soul of his prince, for now he actually believed in the purity and bravery of his love, Fabian. And amidst this atrocity Fabian’s father had passed away believing that his own son and heir was a monster and blackguard—the saddest fact of all.
Much of the kingdom of Mundor would have to be rebuilt. But no one could reconstitute the lives that had been ruined or lost in this fruitless war. The ancients would have called it a pyrrhic victory.
Fabian returned to human form and gravely went about assessing the destruction. Justas Marl, Tweak, and the Ambassador accompanied him as he explored the rooms of the palace, the gardens, and the marketplace, and shops. In the souk where they stood rubble covered the cobbled streets, leaving only twisted metal and holes where shops and houses once resided.
‘We can help rebuild’ offered Marl, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
‘Thank you’ spoke the boy sombrely.
Marl waited a moment before stating,
‘Your advisers would like to talk to you about a certain matter. There is a vacuum of power which will need to be filled and…’
‘Not now, Marl, please’ Fabian warned with a certain amount of sharpness.
‘Of course’ Marl granted, realising his place.
‘Now is not the time’ the Ambassador continued, holding Fabian’s hand. They both walked away to enjoy one another’s company alone.
‘I was wrong to have judged that boy’ Tweak mentioned with certain regret, watching the two youths walk out of earshot.
Justas Marl placed a reassuring hand on the dwarf’s shoulder.
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. I think that the people of Mundor have learned a valuable lesson today. They will not only fortify themselves against the rising storm, but will be aware that there are indeed tempests capable of turning father against son, and neighbour against neighbour. In time, Mundor will be rebuilt. On that day this kingdom will be stronger and much more prepared for that storm on the skyline. I fear though that the emotional scars may linger.’
◆◆◆
In the part of that arboretum left untainted, the section that had left its mark upon the two lovers since the first night they met, Fabian and the Ambassador remained together watching the moon appear in the sky.
‘It is where we began’ the Ambassador stated.
Fabian was understandably silent.
Tør noted the distance in Fabian’s eyes.
‘It must have been hard on you…keeping this secret. The years spent guarding it like a discomforting ailment…or curse.’
Fabian smiled ironically.
‘The worst part is…he will never know. Never understand why I was such a disappointment to him. My father passed away without ever having realizing the strengths I had, or knowing that my failings as a son bloomed from what he failed to perceive were his own failings as a father.’
The prince turned to face the other.
‘It is because I was so ashamed of who and what I was, and I was afraid that people would fear me. I had enough to be embarrassed about without making people believe I was a monster..’
‘Oh, not a monster…’ spoke the Ambassador suddenly. ‘When I saw your Tolan fight in the arena on Urban Cloud I had no idea it was you. And when I saw you endeavour to stop the war, and for the first time you transformed into the great fiery Tolan, I did not quite know what to think. I suppose I had to place you next to a true monster like Malecarjan to realise that you were not the one responsible for all of this.’
He lifted Fabian’s chin.
‘My father will be notified immediately of the evil acts of his Minion.’
There was a moment’s pause as the ambassador continued: ‘The Mecha Villeforms will be investigated. You…you have a kingdom to rule. You have a responsibility.’
◆◆◆
Days and weeks passed and a coronation was decided. Much of the royal palace was still under heavy reconstruction. But the halls and rooms were free of the clutter and rubble at last. Pennons were raised and the courts w
ere once again filled with the shouts of joyful people.
Fabian sat upon his throne as the page mounted the diadem upon his youthful head. Tweak smiled a big jolly smile and the people cheered and clapped.
In the square one elderly woman said to another,
‘He’s more handsome than his father.’
‘Oh, yes, I know’ agreed the other. ‘I think he’ll make a grand king.’
◆◆◆
Later, as the sun faded over the western hill, Justas Marl knocked at the king’s bedchamber door.
‘Enter!’ came the familiar voice within.
Marl opened the door and crossed the threshold. Colonel Warclaw and Iron May was with him.
King Fabian rose from his armchair. He had been looking out over his veranda at the setting sun, thinking about recent events.
‘Pardon this intrusion, my liege.’
The two mages bowed in respect.
‘There’s no need to apologise’ the king stated. ‘Please, rise. Tell me; to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’
‘My liege, we were leaving and would just like to convey our sincerest thanks for the time we have spent here.’
‘Come on’ smiled Fabian, dropping the act. ‘You don’t have to stand on ceremony, not round me. We’ve all been through a lot together, and it should be I thanking you for all that you’ve done for me and my people. Without you, I would not have been able to come to terms with my other self, and I would not have found my true friends, the Skylantern Dragons and consequently, without you I would not have been able to salvage my kingdom.’
‘Well, remember, you are the seventh mage’ Marl reminded promptly. ‘You are our brother. And I would be proud to have you with us one more time for another adventure.’
Tears started to flow, this time they were human tears shed of admiration and honour.
‘Brother? No…no’ corrected the king, his voice beginning to crack under the pressure of his emotions. ‘I would proffer to call you Father…My own biological father called me monster, and never understood me, or acknowledged me except to bring shame to my existence. You are my father, Marl…You who taught and nurtured me both as Fabian and as the Tolan dragon. I have a lot to be thankful for.’