by Aaron Pogue
But there was no more battle left to do. The able-bodied prisoners had swarmed into the fight. Some had died, but so too had their wardens. Angry as he was, Vechernyvetr was as likely to kill the other prisoners as he was to harm the dragonlord’s brood. Nor was he safe from accidental assaults.
As soon as that thought hit him, Daven raised a hand to Vechernyvetr. “Get back to your cell.”
Don’t make me bite you.
“I am serious. You’re hurt, and my hunters are in a killing mood. Don’t let them mistake you for an enemy.”
Your hunters?
Daven only nodded, but the sound of battle was his proof. Even then the older dragons appeared at the tunnels’ mouths, but they were not rushing to the charge. They were fleeing Daven’s soldiers. There was Garrett Dain, felling a blood-red flyer with his favorite axe. There was Caleb, rushing to Daven’s side.
Daven had no time for sweet reunions. He’d had no answer from the dragonlord, so he went hunting now. He stalked among the scattered drakes until he found one still twitching on the cavern’s floor. He removed its slashing tail with one vicious blow, then pinned the creature to the earth and knelt to place his hand upon its crown.
“I’ve conquered you,” he said, reaching desperately toward the broodlord’s mind. “Now tell me who you are!”
The answer felt disjointed when it came. Rattled and erratic. I am...I’m the dragonlord. I’ll...I will kill your women and your child. You won’t...you will not...I am the dragonlord!
Caleb arrived then, Daven’s steadfast defender, and without a word he swung his enormous sword and severed the drake’s head.
Daven rose, suddenly weak, and met his general’s eyes.
“A fitting trophy,” Caleb said. “But you really need to kill them first.”
Daven didn’t smile. Nor did Caleb. A heavy moment passed, and then the warrior grunted and looked away. “Have you accomplished what you came here for?”
Daven’s eyes went to Vechernyvetr. His bonded dragon rested in the chamber that had been its prison cell. Garrett Dain had found him and now stood guard while the other Captains of the Hunt finished off the stragglers. Already some were leaving the fray to attend the injured prisoners. The fight was nearly over.
Had they killed the broodlord? Daven had never figured out which one was in charge, but so many beasts had died. The brood, at least, was dead. And Vechernyvetr lived. Daven had saved his friend and ended the darkness in the east.
Vechernyvetr spoke into his mind. You attempt to raise your spirits, but you fail. What thwarts you, little man? Have you not found enough blood this day to slake your thirst?
“I have not found enough information. I need to know what this monster was.”
He was a twisted thing. I have never known another like him.
“That’s what troubles me so. What is this place? Why would a broodlord build a prison?”
Power. My kind are always after power, and this one learned a nasty trick. He subsumed some dame to gain her knack.
“Which was?”
A kind of spying. Manipulation of the mind. He could trap a broodling without subsuming it, and peek into its mind to spy upon its brood. He did this against a drake of mine and came upon us unsuspecting in my lair. He hoped to spy on you through me as well, but he was mostly unsuccessful.
Daven drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “He called himself a dragonlord. He meant to be king of both our races.”
If anyone could accomplish it...perhaps he is the one. Or you. You could if you but tried.
“I will not try,” Daven said.
Then you must hunt this one to ground. You must destroy him.
“Perhaps he is already dead.”
Vechernyvetr didn’t answer. Instead he shook his massive head and flexed his injured wings and groaned within his cell. You have my gratitude for coming here.
“And you are welcome to a place within my stronghold. You and your dame. I wouldn’t want to see you caught like this again.”
We’ll see. Who can say what tomorrow holds?
Daven nodded and turned away. His eyes fell on Caleb, calling orders to the men while waiting still for Daven’s answer. Daven rubbed his eyes. “Your answer’s yes. I have accomplished what I came for. It’s time to go back home.”
~
Daven was one of the last to leave the cavern. Before he went, he watched through his wizard’s sight as the broodlord’s dominion over the lair fractured and faded. When that was done, he at last felt safe. He finished off the other dragons that had been tormented, saw the human prisoners safely escorted to the surface, and set Caleb and Garrett Dain to arrange transportation of the captured hoard.
When at last he left the nightmare cavern, he found Lareth waiting in the light of day. The wizard’s fine robes looked clean and undisturbed. Daven met him with a glare. “It is good of you to join us in glorious battle.”
Lareth waved the compliment aside as though it had been genuine. “You know I’m always proud to do my part.”
“You are impossible. But at least you’ve tended to the prisoners. How many of them asked refuge in the Tower?”
The wizard shrugged. “Why, just the one.”
“One?”
“Indeed. The boy the widow asked you to seek out. Cashion, he’s called.”
“Ricarl’s son?” Daven asked, flushing with guilt. He’d forgotten that task altogether. “He was one of the prisoners after all? He lived?”
“He did, but gravely wounded. With a dislocated hip and fresh wounds on his leg—”
“Ah,” Daven said. “I remember him now. Brave, if reckless. He is his father’s child.”
“He will survive, I think.”
“Good! I’m glad to hear it. Caleb will make a hero of him, unless I miss my guess. But what of the others? Did you send them back to their homes?”
“And why should I expend such work when they reject our hospitality?”
Daven growled. “We are not here to conscript anyone. We’re here to help, and no one in that crowd was fit to cross the open plains, even if this dragonlord is dead.”
“Oh, calm your noble breast, my lord. They were not so hard set as that. I left them in the able hands of that same wizard who convinced them they should eschew our offer.”
“A wizard? What wizard?”
Lareth raised an eyebrow. “This can’t be a surprise to you.”
Daven shook his head. He searched left and right for some sign of the survivors, then cast his attention up to Pazyarev. Through the dragon’s eyes, Daven saw the pathetic band shuffling north away from the ruins of Pemmes. A stooped figure marched at their head. He was a frail man in tattered black robes that might once have come from the Academy. This could be the wizard. He matched another vague description, too.
Daven snapped back to himself and caught Lareth by the shoulders. “Who was this man? I didn’t see him in the caves.”
Lareth frowned. “He claimed he spoke with you at length. His speech was strange, but clear enough. He said to tell you thanks for your soft heart, and gave regards to Isabelle and Themmichus.”
Daven gasped. “Wind and rain!” He called to Pazyarev and gathered power to himself.
Oblivious, Lareth rattled on. “He told me you’d ask after him, and said to tell you he’d be waiting in—”
“Sachaerrich,” Daven finished in a low growl.
“Indeed. Just so. How did you know?”
But Daven wasn’t there to answer. He hurled himself into Pazyarev’s grasp and soared north with frantic speed. Just past the edge of town he crested a long, low hill and found the clearing where he’d seen the survivors a moment before.
Most of them were gone now. A gateway portal much like one of Lareth’s stood open, and while Daven watched, the last of the rescued prisoners shuffled through. Only the black-robed wizard remained.
The figure turned, too knowing, as Pazyarev flashed toward him. He called out with the same cultured voice Daven had
heard from the broodlord. “A setback but...you send me off...alive. And with hostages. Farewell...Carrickson!”
Not thirty paces from the portal, Daven watched the dragonlord step through. Daven called the earth to catch him, but the wizard unworked Daven’s magic. Daven flung a ball of flame, but it unraveled in the air. Pazyarev unleashed a mighty blast of dragonfire; before it reached the portal, the wizard was through. The gateway closed, and he was gone.
The wizard’s eyes had blazed with Chaos madness. The face had been gaunt and disfigured, but still Daven remembered it. This strange broodlord wore the body of a man, and it was a man Daven had met before. A wizard from the Academy at Pollix—one of only three who had shown Daven any kindness there—and now he was this monster.
Caleb and Lareth found Daven kneeling in the center of the circle Pazyarev’s blast had scorched into the earth. Daven searched desperately for some remnant of the wizard’s working, but he could find no clue where the dragonlord had gone. He turned to Lareth in mute appeal, but the seneschal spread his hands. “I never guessed....”
Daven caught a breath and let it go. “I know.”
“But you accomplished what you came for,” Caleb said. It was almost a question.
Daven found his feet and nodded sharply. “I did. I have Vechernyvetr back. We’ve saved Ricarl’s son. And the eastern plains are freed from the dragonlord. At least for now.”
Lareth snorted. “We slew his brood and stole a mighty hoard. That is no minor setback for him.”
Grim as ever, Caleb shook his head. “But this was no normal foe. And we don’t even know his name.”
“We do,” Daven said. “It’s Antinus. Or...it’s what remains of Antinus with a dragon’s spirit in control. He was my tutor for a while, long ago, and he clearly carries some memories of me yet.”
“And this will help us?”
“Next time,” Daven said. “Next time, I’ll be ready for him.”
~
THE END
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Did you love A Darkness in the East? Then you should read Remnant by Aaron Pogue!
Civilization has fallen, burned to cinders and smashed to gravel by a reptilian horde. Gone the high culture of the Mountain Tribes, the learned writings of the Twin Empires. Among the remnant of survivors, barbarism reigns. Men hunt men, sacrifice the weak, and do whatever they must to survive in the face of the dragonswarm.
Rinuld, a man once deeply devoted to a fallen Empire, stands amidst this chaos. Despite danger and deprivation, he's fashioned a semblance of safety. Now he faces a form of brutality unthinkable scant years before, and it forces a decision. Rinuld can hide from the monsters, or he can risk his life for the memory of civilization by saving a young girl.
"Remnant" is a short story set in the fantasy world of the bestselling novel Taming Fire. Beginning thousands of years before the events of the Dragonprince's Legacy, "Remnant" reveals what happened last time the dragons woke.
Approximately 10,000 words.
Read more at Aaron Pogue’s site.
Also by Aaron Pogue
A Consortium of Worlds
A Consortium of Worlds No. 1
A Consortium of Worlds No. 2
A Dragonswarm Short Story
Remnant
From Embers
Auric's Valiants
Notes from a Thief
Auric and the Wolf
Ghost Targets
Surveillance
Expectation
Restraint
Camouflage
The Dragonprince's Arrows
A Darkness in the East
The Dragonprince's Legacy
Taming Fire
The Dragonswarm
The Dragonprince's Heir
The Original Dragonprince Trilogy
Watch for more at Aaron Pogue’s site.
About the Author
Aaron Pogue is a husband and a father of two who lives in Oklahoma City, OK. Aaron started writing at the age of ten. His first novels were high fantasy set in the rich world of the FirstKing, but he's explored mainstream thrillers, urban fantasy, and several kinds of science fiction. Author of the Dragonprince's Legacy, the Godlanders War, and the Ghost Targets series, Aaron Pogue has sold a quarter of a million books since his debut in 2010.
Aaron has been a Technical Writer with the Federal Aviation Administration and a writing professor at the university level. He holds a Master of Professional Writing degree from the University of Oklahoma. He also serves as the President of Draft2Digital, an ebook formatting, conversion, and distribution service that he helped found in 2012.
Read more at Aaron Pogue’s site.