The Starry Skies of Darkaan (Realm of Arkon Book 6)

by G. Akella

  Incidentally, bone dragons in the Realm of Arkon weren't exactly what one might imagine. Meaning, they weren't some animated naked skeletons, but rather fully formed giant reptiles, only in place of skin and scales they were covered with bone plates and spikes jutting out in every direction. To clarify, back when I first met George on the wall of Craedia, he was exactly that naked skeleton, but he wasn't that anymore. Whether he'd grown himself some meat on those bones or this was Vaessa's sorcery, I could only guess. The dragon's eyes, however, still shone their characteristic blue... But who was I to talk? I could hardly bear my own reflection in the mirror. He had an excuse, being a dragon and all, but what was I? Some kind of human-demon-elder breed no one had ever seen before... I thought back to Kert who had turned out to be mistaken about the dragon. Though it was I who had made the spectacular blunder of telling Vaessa that George was a summoned bone golem. Anyone else in my place would have been vaporized on the spot—instead, the necromancer's daughter subjected me to a heartfelt two-hour lecture on bone dragons and other summoned creatures. So now I knew that bone dragons were real, and that each one of them contained a piece of the summoner's soul that they shared with their pet. I also knew that once he became of age, he would even be able to procreate, assuming he found himself a suitable mate. What use had I of all this knowledge? Beats me... I was quite content with this overgrown bone chick waddling around and beating up on hostile mobs, but I didn't want to offend my battle companion, so I listened to her lecture to the end without complaining once. And when she was done, I asked her how she had determined that George was a male—just to assure her I'd been paying attention. I brought up a story from my childhood, when my parents' friends had returned from their vacation home with a kitten, and named her Tony. Only about a year later when Tony gave birth to a litter of kittens, they realized that Tony wasn't Tony at all, but rather Tina. I was cursing my big mouth immediately after, as the lecture continued for another hour. I should note, though, that Reece and Kan Shyom, both of whom were walking in front of us, listened with great interest about the biological differences of the sexes of bone dragons. The mage was even clicking his tongue delightedly the whole way. I, however, tuned everything out, since Lita had suddenly decided she wanted a word with me. Yes, I had started calling my darling bride "Lita"—the same pet name Saad Khor had for her. It drove her crazy at first, but she seemed to have calmed down after a while... After promising both me and the punisher general a life of misery and pain. Once I rescued her, that is. Oh, I had so much to look forward to...

  "One might think she doesn't need anybody but her lizard," Kan noted grimly as he sat down next to me, nodding at Vaessa watching her pet at play with a blissful smile. "How can I hope to compete with that..."

  The knight drew a heavy sigh, then shifted his gaze to the distant snow-peaked mountains, and was silent.

  "How old are you, Kan?" I looked askance at the man sitting to my right, letting the smoke escape through my teeth.

  "Well, if you count that magic slumber of ours, then..." the knight puckered his brow, thinking.

  "My point is, you're reasoning like a total rookie," I didn't let him finish. "She's not opposed to your courtship, now is she?"

  "How would I know?" the warrior fixed his scabbard, gave a shrug, then looked back at me. "She doesn't say anything to me. She just smiles. And when she smiles, I can't help but feel like a complete idiot. Which makes sense, given who she is. Who am I to compare..."

  "Nonsense," I shook my head, patting the knight-commander on the shoulder. "Don't psych yourself out. It's just that Vaessa has been alone a long time, and may need some time to process the idea of being with a real man soon. She clearly sees that you're into her. I've known her far longer than you, and trust me when I say that she's really changed of late."

  "Well, sure, she hasn't had a dragon before, but there he is now," the knight-commander motioned at George as he missed the boar yet again, and drew another sigh.

  "When a woman realizes that somebody needs her," I continued, ignoring his last remark, "her behavior changes. There's a new sense of confidence in her eyes, in her movements. Even the way she smiles is different now."

  "Then why is she—"

  "Cut the crap, man," I grunted. "Have you told her once that you want to be with her?"

  "No, but... In Erantia, the woman must first give a signal that she..." Kan Shyom stopped short suddenly, freezing for a second, then set his jaw, sighed yet again, and looked at me. "My prince, I really am an idiot..."

  "I don't think we're in Erantia anymore," I evoked the classic line from history's first film realized in Technicolor. "As for George, many women are partial to house pets—don't let that discourage you."

  "Give this 'house pet' a few years, and he'll be gobbling up a warrior in plate along with his horse without breaking a sweat," Kan chuckled, then looked back at Vaessa. "So, should I go tell her now?"

  "No," I held him back with a hand on the shoulder. "Wait till we get to Mycana. You'll ask her to have dinner with you, and then..."

  "As you say, my prince," said the knight-commander, rising to his feet. "You're certainly more experienced in these matters, while I've never been able to make it work with the right women. Never felt the need, nor did I have the time. But maybe all that will change now?" he sighed, nodded to me, and made for the horses grazing nearby.

  I gazed at his broad back as he went, thinking. So many years without finding anyone... Then again, time probably wasn't much a factor with him—some people are simply more comfortable with solitude. And this world probably wasn't an exception. In the old world, even men who have their shit together and earn a decent living often struggle finding themselves a life partner. And it's not necessarily for a lack of volunteers—simply, you become so accustomed to being alone that the prospect of losing your freedom becomes a real hurdle. After all, whenever you find something worth having, you must invariably give up something in return.

  I thought back to my former life, and sighed. Family bliss isn't free, and it's up to you whether you're ready to pay that price. Of course, you also need a spark—the kind that naturally happened between Altus and his elven maiden, or what this hardened veteran suddenly felt toward the necromancer's daughter. Funny, this man had taken thousands of lives in battle, yet was absolutely clueless when it came to interacting with 'the right women,' as per his own words.

  You humans sure are an odd bunch, Jaelitte chuckled in my head. I would be tempted to call this man a wuss, but that just wouldn't be true. Any man with the balls to bare steel in the presence of my mother is anything but. No, he is a warrior in the truest sense, and yet... Everything is so complicated with you lot!

  That is true, I wasn't going to argue the point. So you'd better get used to it.

  Buzz off, Jaelitte sniffed, and was silent.

  I wouldn't expect anything else from my dear wife, I thought while knocking out the pipe. I'd already gotten used to her ways, and besides, how many men would complain about their women preferring silence to arguing? No, this personality trait was a definite plus in my book.

  I got up off the ground and stretched my back, grimacing at the racket being raised by the two creatures' frolicking, then glanced at the priestess standing about a hundred feet away. I hadn't broached the issue of her relationship with Kan, and I would keep it that way. Meddling with well-intentioned advice in these situations was a fool's game—if anything at all went wrong, you became the natural lightning rod for all parties. And though I genuinely wished nothing but happiness for the necromancer's daughter, this should be her decision alone, without any intervention from me. Kan was a good man, and things should work out between them just fine. I envisioned the two of them strolling through a park with George on a leash, grinning at the mental image as I put my pipe away into inventory. Enough distractions for now—it was time to hit the road.

  "Call off your baby chick, we're setting out!" I waved to Vaessa, shouting over the dragon's roaring. Then I
nodded to our escort, and sent a mental command to the razorback.

  "He's no baby chick," the priestess stroked George's muzzle as he ran up to her, then shot me a reproving look. "I've already explained to you that—"

  "I don't want to disappoint you, auntie," Reece butted into the conversation, looking desperately bored. "But presently your pet resembles a dragon no more than the dar's boar resembles a newborn pig."

  "Keep talking, smart guy," the priestess gave him a stern look.

  "What did I do?" the mage gave a clownish shrug, and gestured at Raena standing nearby. "Even our resident Snow Queen would back me up here. She's not much of a talker, sure, but she could give a nod or two."

  The Snow Queen reference was my blunder—these things tended to happen whenever I shared any cultural tidbits from the old world with this lot. But it wasn't an unfair description—Raena had indeed been riding in silence with a cool, estranged expression, completely ignoring Reece's attempts to engage her in conversation.

  "You forget yourself, boy," the raven-haired sorceress' eyes twinkled with ire.

  "Boy?" Reece said, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, baroness, but I don't consider your three-century-long slumber cause enough to call you grandmother. Though you do look stunning for your age," the mage exhaled with awe as he spread his arms. "I'm ready to propose right here and now—just give me a sign."

  Raena gritted her teeth, visibly trying to keep her tone even.

  "If it weren't for our joint campaign, I would challenge you to a duel and kill you. But then, all campaigns end someday..."

  "Enough, everybody!" I snapped, hopping into the razorback's saddle. "Hart! You're all acting like spoiled children! Get on your horses, and let's ride! As for you," I glared at Reece, who was blinking innocently, "if you open your mouth one more time before we reach Mycana, I will sew it shut. Got it?"

  The mage donned an expression of pure fright, closed his mouth with his left hand, and touched his ear with his right for some reason. As if checking to see if it was still there.

  I bit my lip to keep my expression grim, then signaled our readiness to the escort, who had already mounted his lizard. I didn't believe for a second that the rascal had actually taken my threat seriously, but I didn't care. He was what he was, and I was content to keep him that way, but at least we would ride the remaining several hours to the Irbis capital in silence. Once back on the road, I set Gloom to a trot behind Irrot's lizard, loosened the reins, and proceeded to mull over the events of the past ten days.

  ***

  In the end, my visit to Iskhart hadn't netted me the half a kingdom one might expect in a fairy tale. Or perhaps it was because I had already stolen the princess without her daddy's permission. Jokes aside, my life hadn't changed in any significant way. In your typical fairy tale, the unlikely hero who rescues the princess reaps his reward that very evening, feasting with the king as the court prepares for a wedding. Of course, technically, I haven't yet rescued my princess, so perhaps that explained Ahriman not throwing a feast in my honor? And besides, we were already wedded de facto, so I shouldn't complain.

  Since my momentous visit to the palace reading hall, I had spent only one more day in the capital of Balliose, half of which was spent in conversation with the Overlord. Though Ahriman's attitude toward me hardly changed to one of ardent fatherly love, at least he was no longer bullying me with his aura or asking too many questions. As a result, it took me only a few hours to tell him virtually everything, including my arrival in this realm, and what it used to be for me and for the other humans who had ended up here. I didn't even omit the parts I usually kept mum about, such as my encounters with the gods and the White Dragon, as well as the prophecy. There was no sense in keeping anything from the Overlord given his direct interest in keeping my precious carcass alive and well, for only then would I be able to rescue his darling daughter form imprisonment. Once done with my story, I inquired about the curse hanging over my princedom, and put in a request for help in taking Vaessa and Reece out of Craedia. I didn't want to take anyone else along—they had seen enough fighting to last a lifetime. I wouldn't have taken these two, either, except the necromancer's daughter was operating on direct orders from Celphata, and without Reece's antics I would likely blow a gasket after a few short months from sheer boredom. The truth was that this kid was the only one I could talk to about the world whence I came, as the mage absorbed any information like a sponge. He expressed keen interest in nearly everything: history, politics, literature, films... Whereas for me, these recollections of Earth remained one of the few threads connecting me to my fleeting humanity.

  When I was done with my story, Ahriman simply nodded, fell back into his large leather armchair, closed his eyes and was quiet. For a long, long while. No less than three hours. I didn't sweat it, especially since Lita had warned me that her father would enter such "buffering" states periodically. Whereas Gods and Elder Demons might easily see how all the possible future scenarios interweave and impact one another, Alcmehn's Overlord wasn't quite on their level, and evidently needed time to process information before making any important decisions. And who was I to deny him that?

  So I took the time to chat up my wife, and when she fell silent without warning as was her MO, I switched to studying my surroundings. The furnishings were as expected: a massive writing desk made of some kind of dark yellow stone; a fireplace big enough to fit an ox; two book shelves of the same yellow stone, overflowing with scrolls and enormous leather-bound folios badly cracked from old age; various art on the walls; and a dozen other objects of ambiguous function laid out on low stone tables by the far wall. Ahriman hadn't offered me a drink, but I was still buzzed from before, so I wasn't complaining, giving the Overlord all the time he needed to evaluate the myriad possibilities before his mind's eye before deciding on the optimal one.

  "Shit," Ahriman growled as he awoke from his lethargic slumber. "A great war is coming to Karn and to the Gray Frontier. The Fountain of Wishes has dried up in Aerot's garden, and our neighbors below are nervous." The Overlord rose from his chair and gave me a sour look, freezing me in place with a bottle in hand. Then, clasping his hands behind him, he slowly walked up to one of the paintings on the wall.

  "The final seal crumbled the day Jaelitte died, but so far I've been able to keep our blood kin from invading this plane," he said with his back to me. "The white-haired one's plan was to weaken me to the point where I couldn't oppose the Netherworld's demon armies from ravaging our lands. You didn't let that happen, Dark One, and for that I am grateful."

  "I'd thought that he wanted this plane for himself," I said, putting the bottle away.

  "After desolating Alcmehn, Velial's armies would have moved on to the human lands, Karn, and I cannot imagine what Vill or whoever stands behind him would gain by that," Ahriman shook his head. "I cannot see everything, but I do see clouds gathering over Karn. I expect that within the year we will know whether the continent will remain as is or become the domain of new masters. Not that any of that matters on the grand scale," turning back around, the Overlord fixed me with an appraising gaze. "You can expect to meet many other adherents of the white-haired god on your path, Dark One, and he certainly craves a meeting with you himself. And every one of those encounters is fraught with gray smoke and oblivion." The Overlord of Alcmehn gave me a hard stare. "Yours is a tough path, but if you walk it to the end, I will truly believe that you are worthy of my daughter."

  "You know, you speak just like the rest of them, those who have left their mark on me. You throw around these ambiguous phrases dancing around danger, oblivion, death... And never say anything concrete," I shrugged, deciding to dispense with the niceties. "Some are scared of being dematerialized, others simply can't say anything. But, alas, none of that makes it easier on me."

  "You think I'm afraid of the true death?" Ahriman scowled. "It hasn't scared me since the battle of Fertan Valley, when Syrat's transformed bastards struck the flank of my dying legion. My very soul w
as incinerated by Velial's sorcery that day," the Overlord of Alcmehn sighed. "You're mistaken, demon. It's just that I cannot see anything through the fog of the prophecy. Only hazy contours of possible crisscrossing scenarios. Like you, I know not what it means; all I see is that you will run into one of the white-haired god's lackeys somewhere outside Vaedarr." Ahriman walked over to one of the bookshelves, and picked up a scroll rolled into a tube. "The curse on your princedom will fall exactly one year after the capture of Craedia. Sajtore will give you two Tyras amulets to lead your people out safely." The Overlord unfolded the scroll and laid it out on the desk, then looked over at me.

  "You will have to go to Cathella on your own. We are at peace with the Snow Leopards, and this isn't the best time to break it. And another thing," the Overlord squared his shoulders and raised his hands, fingers splayed, over the scroll, which hadn't moved despite basic laws of physics. A sense of magic permeated the air, then there was a crash, and the next moment the scroll rolled into a tube again, scarlet sparks running along the rim.

  "I can use this spell as many times as I like, but can only seal it into a scroll once. And this," a vial with whitish, milk-like substance appeared next to the scroll. "I hadn't gotten the chance to use it back in Fertan Valley." Ahriman sighed, then looked at me. "Perhaps you'll find better use for it..."