by A. Giannetti
Hoping to discourage some of those who sought her hand, she had challenged the boldest among them to sporting duels with blunt swords as the price of her company. Supple, skillful, and gifted now with an unlooked for strength, she had pummeled her suitors unmercifully, but with bruised bodies and humbled pride, the knights still returned to her side at every opportunity. Orianus secretly encouraged them to vie for her favor, but it was hardly necessary, for they were caught fast in the spell of her face and slim figure as if some hint of her true beauty shone through the illusion spell that was meant to mask it.
After a long gallop through the wild lands north of the city, Anthea returned to the royal palace, leaving her disappointed suitors behind. Seeking out her brother, she pressed Dacien into service, so that she might practice the art of battle, for he was now recovered from his wound. Although Dacien was accounted one of the finest warriors in the kingdom, he was no more a match for her than the knights she had defeated.
“You but play with me now,” he said to her after a contest with blunt swords in which she beat him easily, his light banter at odds with the worried look in his clear gray eyes. Dacien remained apprehensive about the changes occurring in his sister, changes which he alone was aware of, for Anthea still had not told her father that she was becoming more Elf than human.
“I must practice, no matter how poor the swordsman who opposes me,” replied Anthea, blue eyes shining with laughter as she whirled and thrust at an imaginary enemy, her wooden blade making an ominous thrum through the air.
“You have become the most deadly swordsman in the realm, Anthea,” asked Dacien. “Why this constant need to practice? There is no war in Tarsius at present.”
“One must be prepared for any eventuality,” replied Anthea cryptically, for she did not wish to reveal even to Dacien that she might leave Tarsius if Elerian failed in his quest for treasure.
“Keep your secrets then,” said Dacien with a wry smile. “Will you at least come to the feast tonight? It would please father if you graced us with your presence.”
“I have other plans,” said Anthea shortly, for she had no patience for the galas organized by her father to put her within reach of her suitors. Instead, she met secretly each evening with her father’s mages. What had suddenly swayed the old men to teach her the ways of magic, they would not say, but they were now willing to teach her the basics of magic, continuing the lessons which Elerian had begun before he left.
Returning to her apartment, Anthea changed and bathed before eating a simple dinner in her quarters. She was served by an older second cousin named Alypia, her only companion and retainer. Alypia had come to live in the royal palace years ago when her husband was killed in the wars against the Goblins. Once she and Anthea had been close, but now they had little to say to each other, for Alypia, who known Anthea since she was a child, now felt strangely shy and uneasy around her cousin. A hidden power cloaked her, and the silver beech leaf which she wore at her throat often burned with a soft white light, like a star come to earth.
“How would she treat me if I were to drop the illusion which cloaks me?” Anthea often wondered to herself.
“Will you not go to your father’s banquet tonight instead of stealing off on your own,” inquired Alypia softly when Anthea finished her meal. “It is not good for you to be so much alone, Anthea,” she said worriedly.
“I have other business tonight Alypia,” replied Anthea kindly as she threw a gray cloak over her simple gown. After slipping out of her apartment, she unexpectedly came face to face with Merula after turning a corner. A frown wrinkled her fair brow, for she wondered at once what business brought him to this part of the palace.
“Good evening Anthea,” said Merula pleasantly, the first time he had spoken to her since their falling out at the Troll Wood. If he had seen her brief frown, he chose to ignore it, for his handsome face bore no trace of the anger it had exhibited during their last turbulent argument. There was, however, an odd fevered brightness in his blue eyes that Anthea thought strange.
“A good evening to you also, Merula,” she responded, equally pleasantly, but not slowing her pace as she stepped to her left to walk around him. She no longer felt any animosity toward Merula, but neither did she feel any desire to talk to him.
Unexpectedly, his right hand reached out, seizing her right wrist in a strong grip and stopping her in midstride. Instinctively, Anthea’s left hand dropped to the handle of the slender dagger hanging from her belt, the blade whispering against the leather scabbard as it slipped free. Its gleaming point, razor edged and deadly, came to rest against Merula’s throat in a motion too quick for the eye to follow.
Feeling cold steel against his flesh, Merula stiffened, hardly daring to breathe, for there was a gleam in Anthea’s eyes that warned him not to move.
“Stay a moment, and hear my words,” he pleaded, his eyes now fever bright.
“Is he ill?” Anthea wondered as she effortlessly broke his grip on her wrist. The silver beech leaf out of sight beneath her gown was suddenly warm against her skin. A sense of her growing power, both exhilarating and frightening flowed through her. “I could destroy his strong body in an instant,” she thought to herself as she sheathed her dagger. As if some of her thought had reached his mind, Merula stepped back a pace. The pleading look had not left his face, and his eyes were still disturbingly bright.
“This is not the way to gain my attention, Merula,” she said coldly. “If you would talk to me then request an audience. In truth, though, I think it best if we keep our distance,” she said in as kind a voice as she could manage.
“Can we not at least be friends then, Anthea?” asked Merula, a hint of desperation in his voice.
“I think not, Merula,” said Anthea firmly, “for I think friendship alone will never satisfy you. Turn your gaze elsewhere, for there are many fair maidens in the court who would be honored to be your life companion.”
Merula’s eyes suddenly went cold, although his features remained pleasant. “I will do as you wish my lady. I will not offend your eyes again with the sight of my face,” he said in a voice that was now edged with bitterness. Spinning on his right heel, he stalked stiffly away.
“I have offended him again,” Anthea thought regretfully to herself, but she did not call Merula back. “Better a clean break than to give him false hope,” she thought to herself. “Were I allow him near me, the jealousy he feels toward Elerian would only grow and fester, for Merula is too proud a man to accept crumbs from the table when the banquet is at hand. Perhaps he will now turn to some other maid,” she thought hopefully to herself as she continued on to the chamber where the mages awaited her.
By the time Anthea had completed her nightly lesson in magic, she had forgotten the incident the incident with Merula. After retiring to her apartment, she threw aside her cloak and lay down on her bed. Immediately, she took the form of a wraith, trying fruitlessly again and again to follow the golden thread that led from her ring.
“Soon, but not tonight,” was her disappointed thought when she finally tired and returned to her body.
Rising from her bed, Anthea walked lightly out to the wide, dark terrace outside of her bedroom. Standing by the stone railing bordering its edge, her long black hair blowing in the soft night breeze, her thoughts and night wise eyes both turned to the north, the ache in her heart almost a physical pain.
A DANGEROUS ENCOUNTER
Following one narrow service tunnel after another, Ascilius led the way to the northern edge of the city where the back gate lay. The Dwarf kept a close eye on Tonare, who walked beside him on his right, his toe nails clicking softly on the stone streets. The dentire stopped often, his broad, wet nose testing the air around him for the scent of any danger, his small, triangular ears straining to catch the faintest noise in the darkness that lay beyond the pool of faint radiance cast by Ascilius’s and Elerian’s minute mage lights. One dark, silent street after another passed beneath the feet of the three companions
without Tonare raising any alarm, but Ascilius and Elerian remained wary, for Eboria’s dragonets might be hidden almost anywhere ahead of them, waiting in ambush where they could not be seen or scented. Whenever they crossed one of the larger boulevards that intersected the smaller tunnels, they were especially careful, for their near disastrous encounter with the red dragon remained fresh in their minds.
“It is not far now whispered Ascilius to Elerian as they approached yet another intersection. When Tonare stopped to sniff and listen at the edge of the larger passageway, Elerian suddenly heard the scrape of claws on stone from a balcony on his left. Looking up over his left shoulder, Elerian heard Tonare bark a warning as a dark, sinuous shape leapt over the rail of the balcony. Spreading its leathery wings, the dragon soared toward the three companions, mouth gaping wide to reveal the fiery inferno in its gullet.
“I have one chance to save myself and my companions,” thought Elerian to himself as a plume of red suddenly shot out of the dragon’s jaws. Lifting his right hand, he watched with his third eye as a golden orb flew from his fingers, striking the fiery torrent roaring toward him and enveloping it instantly in a golden film of light. A veil of red fell over Elerian’s eyes as the plume of flame swept over him, but he felt none of its scorching heat for his spell held back the heat of the flames. Abruptly, the dragon fire vanished, and a dark form hurtled toward Elerian. He leaped to his left, drawing Acris from behind his back at the same time. Ascilius and Tonare leaped to the right at the same moment so that when the dragon completed its pounce, its claws closed on empty stone.
When Elerian turned to face the dragon with his shield on his left arm and Acris in his right hand, Elerian saw that its scales were black not red, gleaming like oiled jet in the rays of his mage light. Furling its wings, the black dragon darted its long, horned head toward Elerian, jaws parted to expose long, dagger shaped teeth. When Tonare sprang at its exposed throat, the dragon suddenly whipped its powerful, scaled tail forward, striking the dentire heavily on his right side. The powerful blow sent Tonare flying through the air past Elerian’s right shoulder. As the dentire fell to the stone floor behind him, the dragon lunged at Elerian for a second time.
Elerian immediately raised the shield on his left arm to protect himself. He heard a clang as the dragon’s open jaws struck the shield, followed by an impact, powerful as a hammer stroke, which numbed his left arm and shoulder before sending him flying backwards. As he lay on his back, the dragon drew its supple neck back, its maw gaping open. Over the rim of his shield, Elerian could see a flickering, ruddy light at the back of its throat, lighting up its long teeth one moment and casting them into shadow the next.
Before the dragon could release its inner fires, Ascilius leaped high into the air, Fulmen raised high over his head in a two handed grip, delivering a mighty hammer stroke to the beast’s spine behind its shoulders. The flash of white light from the argentum inlaid in the hammer lit the vaulted intersection like a lightning stroke as the mighty hammer crushed the strong bones beneath the creature’s glistening scales, paralyzing its hindquarters and deadly tail. Elerian saw Ascilius stagger when his feet touched the ground again, momentarily weakened by the drain on his power from the hammer stroke he had delivered. Ignoring the pain of its broken bones, the dragon whipped its head back toward Ascilius. Like a scaled club, the horned head struck the Dwarf across his broad chest, sending him flying backward through the air.
The right side of the dragon’s neck and chest were now exposed to Elerian’s view. With his shield dangling useless on his numbed left arm, he sprang lithely to his feet. Rushing at the black dragon, he thrust Acris point first into the hollow where the dragon’s snakelike neck joined its chest. There was a blinding flash of white light from the threads of argentum inlaid in the sword as the blade sheathed itself in the dragon’s flesh, its cross guard finally coming to rest against the scales covering the dragon’s chest. Feeling as if a hammer had struck him on the back of his head, Elerian fell to his knees, his right hand slipping away from Acris’s hilt. Even though it was mortally wounded, the dragon still had the strength to swing its head, striking Elerian heavily in the chest with enough force to lift him off his knees and onto his back again. Drained by Acris, momentarily stunned by the powerful blow dealt him by the black dragon, Elerian lay on his back, gasping for air, for all the breath had been driven out of him. Raising its head high, the dragon looked down on him, its large eyes glittering like green emeralds. Eboria had destroyed without malice, like a force of nature, but Elerian sensed a malevolence in this dark creature that was frightening.
“If this beast grows to maturity, it will be a sad day for the Middle Realm,” thought Elerian to himself as he groped blindly at his belt for the hilt of Rasor.
Dragging its injured body forward with its front legs, scimitar claws gating on the stone of the street, the dragon finally positioned its long head above Elerian, who was still too stunned and weakened to escape.
“This is the end,” thought Elerian to himself. He felt the dragon's hot breath on his face as the dark head suddenly darted down toward his head, jaws gaping wide to seize and crush. Then, in the last instant before the mighty jaws closed, Tonare suddenly clamped his strong jaws around the dragon’s throat, muscles bulging as he braced his powerful body to stop the downward motion of the creature’s horned head. Elerian heard the dentire’s sharp, hard teeth grating on the dragon's impenetrable scales as the dragon lifted the heavy dog off the ground with its powerful neck muscles. It shook its head, trying to free itself from the dentire, but weakened by the mortal wound Elerian had dealt it, the dragon was unable to break Tonare’s iron grip. Its long head sank to the ground, coming to rest on the street not three feet away from Elerian’s face. Tonare’s jaws were still firmly clamped around the wyrm’s throat, squeezing tighter all the time like some mighty vise.
“Do not think you have won,” gasped the dragon, its voice filled with anger but no fear as Tonare relentless crushed its throat, depriving it of air. “My mother and brother will avenge my death!” With those last words, the green fire slowly died in the creature’s eyes like embers going dark.
Scarcely able to believe he was still alive, Elerian slowly rose to his feet. A stream of black blood flowed down the dragon’s glittering scales from the wound Acris had given it, forming a steaming pool on the floor of the chamber by its right shoulder and under its long neck. The only sound in the passageway was the grating of Tonare’s teeth as, eyes tightly shut, the dentire continued to grind and squeeze his mighty jaws against the black dragon’s throat in a grip that only death could break.
Dreading what he might find, Elerian turned to his right, where Ascilius had fallen. The Dwarf lay unmoving on his back with his dark eyes closed. His hammer lay on the tunnel floor by his right hand where it had slipped from his grasp.
“Is he is dead,” wondered Elerian to himself as he recalled the heavy thump the dragon’s head had made when it struck Ascilius’s chest. At the very least, the heavy blow should have broken the Dwarf’s back and crushed his ribs.
Limping painfully over to Ascilius’s side, Elerian bent over him, looking for some sign of life, but the Dwarf’s rough hewn features, lit by the dim glow of his mage light, remained still as death.
“Farewell old friend,” said Elerian sadly as he looked at his longtime companion. He was about say something more when a gleam of light suddenly issued from beneath Ascilius’s eyelids. Elerian’s eyes instantly narrowed with suspicion, for it seemed to him that a faint breath stirred the mighty chest of his fallen companion.
“He is awake, listening to everything that I say!” thought Elerian to himself, most likely with the intention of turning it against me later. There is only one way to serve such treachery.”
“Well, life goes on,” Elerian said briskly out loud, a bright gleam in his gray eyes. “I suppose that I should dispose of Ascilius’s body so the spadix do not get him.”
As Elerian raised his right arm, a mo
st remarkable thing happened. Ascilius suddenly leaped to his feet and began backing away as if he had never received any injury at all.
“I knew it,” he roared. “You are just waiting for some opportunity to roast me. Put your arm down, you treacherous Elf!”
“I thought you were dead!” said Elerian, pretending to be offended by Ascilius’s words.
“A likely story,” shouted Ascilius holding his shield protectively in front of his beard.
“I thought you were dead also,” said Tonare, who had finally left off throttling the dragon.
“You stay out of this,” said Ascilius, throwing the dentire a wounded look. “You are supposed to side with me not this fire mad Elf.”
The acrid smell of burning flesh suddenly interrupted the altercation, causing all three adventurers to turn toward the slain dragon. The creature’s body began to glow as if lit from within, for with its death, its internal fires had begun to burn out of control. Elerian hastily ran to the right side of the dragon, vaulting lightly over the creature’s outstretched neck. Holding the heat of the mage fires away from his hand, he withdrew Acris from the dragon’s body before quickly backing away, for red tongues of flame were beginning to eat through the dragon’s hide. Elerian was pleased to see that the Acris had survived the dragon’s corrosive blood, gleaming as brightly as ever after the dark, viscous liquid covering its blade dripped away to steam and bubble on the stone at Elerian’s feet. In front of Elerian, the black dragon’s scaled form slowly began to collapse into a pool of red fire.
“We need to move on,” said Tonare in his rough voice. “It is not safe to stay here in the open with the scent of burning flesh filling the air.”