She saw him out of the corner of her eye and banked right. Packy brought Murland up and over her, and he steered the backpack to land him on Drak’Noir’s neck.
He grasped the black scales, but they cut his palms, forcing him to let go.
“Magic doesn’t work,” he told Packy. “Let’s try good old-fashioned steel.”
He steered toward Drak’Noir’s head, but she was searching for him, and his target was constantly moving. He timed it right and flew over her forehead and down her snout, slashing at her left eye as he passed.
The sword may have only scratched the lens, but it certainly angered Drak’Noir. She spewed fire at him and changed course, turning night into day with her flames. Murland felt the heat, but somehow Packy kept him ahead of the groping arc of red licking fire. He steered back toward the mountaintop, not knowing what to do next. Behind him, Drak’Noir cried out, chilling Murland to the bone. For a lucid moment, he realized that he was leading Drak’Noir back to his friends, but there was no choice. They had set out to defeat her, and if they failed, she would lay waste to Fallacetine.
Fire scorched his hair, and Murland cried for Packy to go faster. He knew that the spells would only make Drak’Noir stronger, but he needed to slow her down if he could. He thrust his arm back, shooting lightning spells behind him as Packy swooped down toward the mountain. He could see the others there waiting for them, and once again he hoped to the gods that they had a plan.
***
“Here he comes!” yelled Willow.
“And Drak’Noir is on his tail!” said Gibrig.
“What do we do?” said Brannon, looking nervously from Sir Eldrick to Valkimir.
They had all survived the blast thanks to Murland’s magical shield, and many of the witches and wizards had clambered back over the edge as well. More than two dozen of them gathered with the companions on the smoldering top of the mountain.
“We’ve got to give it another shot,” said one of the wizards. “Drak’Noir must be stopped!”
“Yes,” said Sir Eldrick, “but your magic isn’t helping anything. Haven’t you noticed that it only makes her grow bigger?”
“Then what are we to do?” said one of the witches.
“If she gets bigger when we attack her,” said Gibrig, “then maybe she’ll get smaller if we’re nice to her.”
“This isn’t the time for your niceties, Gib,” said Brannon.
“Maybe he’s on to something,” said Willow.
Brannon waved them off and looked to Sir Eldrick and Valkimir as if to say, “Well?”
Sir Eldrick was looking at Gibrig, however.
“Eldrick!” said Brannon, snapping his fingers in front of the knight.
“We’ll try it Gibrig’s way.”
“What? Are you insane?”
Sir Eldrick shrugged. “He’s got a point. We did what we could, and it didn’t faze her in the least. Magic only makes her stronger, and there is no blade large enough to pierce her scales.”
“You know,” said Willow, tapping her right tusk in thought. “It would have been nice if one of us had come across a dragon lance or something on our way here. I mean, no one even thought to bring one.”
“Stupid-stupid dumb-dumb,” said Dingleberry, as if chastising herself.
“Ye really think me way might work?” said Gibrig to the group.
“Can’t hurt, laddie,” said Hagus.
“Alright, so say that playing nicey-nice works, and Drak’Noir gets smaller, then what?” said Brannon.
“Then, we kill her,” said Sir Eldrick, as though it were obvious.
“But maybe she won’t cause no more trouble if she gets little,” said Gibrig.
“She’s Drak’Noir,” said Brannon. “She IS trouble.”
“He’s almost here,” said Caressa, who stood by the edge, looking east.
“Everyone behind me,” said Sir Eldrick. “No one attacks until I give the say so.”
Murland flew toward them as Drak’Noir’s flames chased him through the sky. Everyone gathered behind Sir Eldrick and waited with bated breath. The wizards and witches, knowing that their magic was useless against the dragon, instead cast wards of protection on the group. Multiple domes of energy sprouted up around the companions and magic users. Sir Eldrick sheathed his fae blade and glanced back at the others. They exchanged apprehensive looks, but then put their weapons away as well.
Packy swooped down from on high and Murland landed in a run. He skidded to a stop with the aid of Sir Eldrick and, panting, tried to ask them something.
“We have a plan, stand behind me,” said Sir Eldrick.
Murland looked to Caressa, confused, and joined her and the others.
“What’s going on?” he said, looking back at Drak’Noir as she hurtled toward them.
Caressa offered him a nervous smile. “We’re going to be nice to her.”
“What?”
“Drak’Noir!” Sir Eldrick bellowed, raising his empty hands. “We do not wish to fight!”
“What are you doing?” said Murland.
“It be alright,” said Gibrig. “I got a feelin’.”
It was Murland’s turn to laugh nervously.
Drak’Noir landed before Sir Eldrick and perched on the edge of the mountaintop, spreading her massive wings and gathering flame in the back of her throat.
“We do not wish to fight you,” said Sir Eldrick, glancing back at Gibrig. “We…we want to be your friends.”
Drak’Noir laughed, which was better than frying them with dragon fire. “Friends? Friends!” she said in a voice like thunder. “My only friend is death. My only lover is darkness.”
“Well, I be sorry ‘bout that,” said Gibrig, stepping past Sir Eldrick. “Sounds lonely. But ye know it ain’t got to be that way.”
Drak’Noir bent her long neck to get a closer look at the diminutive dwarf. She at first appeared confused, but then anger marred her features. “You walk in the light, don’t you, human?”
“I-I be a dwarf, yer, ah, dragoness…ness. I got that humanism.”
“Silence, mortal!” she screamed, and her hot breath sparked against the wards of protection. “I am the destroyer of suns! My name is feared on a hundred planets! I—”
“I be a hog farmer,” said Gibrig.
Drak’Noir’s eyes widened, and she reeled back, as if to bathe them in fire. But her attack was interrupted by a brilliant flash of light. The companions looked as the glow died down, and there, standing between them and the dragon, was a tall red-haired man wearing a green suit and smoking a pipe.
“Who in the hells is that?” said Brannon.
“You are in luck!” said the tall man. “For I, Douche’ex Machina, have come to save the day!”
“Douche who?” said Willow.
The man did not elaborate. Instead he turned to Drak’Noir and pointed a finger at her. “Your time has come to an end, Drak’Noir. For I am the savior of—”
Drak’Noir abruptly silenced him with a thick stream of concentrated fire. When she let up, all that was left of Douche’ex Machina was a blackened skeleton.
“No!” Gibrig yelled.
“We’re so doomed,” said Brannon.
“You can’t just come here and start destroying everything,” Gibrig went on, even daring to shake his fist at the dragon. To Murland, he looked like a mouse standing up to a mountain lion.
“Fool!” said Drak’Noir. “I was there when this world was created. I saw these mountains rise, and I will see them fall. I am the ender of worlds. The conqueror of light. I—”
“But ye ain’t got to be. Ain’t ye got a choice?”
“Choice?” said Drak’Noir.
“Yeah. Ye say ye be all these things. But don’t ye have a choice in the matter?”
Drak’Noir shook her head as though the concept confused her. “This world’s time is up, and I am the reaper.” She opened her giant maw, where fire broiled deep in her throat.
“I love you, Drak’Noir,” said
Gibrig, confusing everyone.
“Uh, Gib?” said Sir Eldrick, who was beginning to think that giving him the reins was a terrible idea.
“I said I love you, Drak’Noir,” said Gibrig again, louder this time.
Drak’Noir reeled back and made a sour face. “Silence!” she bellowed, but Sir Eldrick thought that he saw her shrink, if only slightly.
“Say…say it again, Gib.”
“I love you, Drak’Noir.”
“Silence!” said the dragon. She shot her head forward and blasted them with a twenty-foot-wide stream of flame.
Everyone instinctively ducked for cover—everyone but Gibrig. He stepped forward and screamed “NO!” and thrust his golden shield out in front of him.
To everyone’s surprise, the fire did not reach beyond the shield, but was repelled and shot back into the face of the dragon.
“We will not fight you!” said Gibrig, taking a step closer.
“It cannot be,” said Drak’Noir, looking at the now glowing shield with wide eyes. “The Maker of Clocks cannot interfere!” she screamed at the sky as she shrunk to half her size. Infuriated, she opened her maw, and from it came a beam of pure darkness. The beam hit Gibrig’s shield and was repelled, but it also changed when it hit the shield, turning from shadow to light. The glorious beam of light turned night into day and hit Drak’Noir square in the chest.
The companions, wizards, witches, and even Benjamin stared wide-eyed as Drak’Noir shrank until she was no larger than a horse. A wizard went to cast a spell, but Murland caught his arm and made it shoot into the sky. “No magic!” he yelled at his fellow casters.
Gibrig looked at Drak’Noir with pity as she reared back once more. “Don’t do it!” he yelled, and his pity only infuriated her more.
“I am hate! I am darkness! I am the end!” she roared.
“I am love! I am light! I am the beginning!” he shot back, and his voice was made louder by the shield. It glowed white hot, forcing her to turn her head and shield her eyes.
She charged suddenly with a maw full of sword-like teeth. Gibrig planted his feet and shouldered into his shield as she struck. Her head snapped back when she connected, and Willow suddenly leapt over Gibrig and slammed her heavy club into Drak’Noir’s snout, breaking half a dozen teeth. Brannon’s vines shot out and wrapped around the dragon, dragging her to the ground as Sir Eldrick charged past Gibrig and Willow and came down with a powerful chop of his fae blade. It sliced through Drak’Noir’s neck, severing her head.
Willow kicked the head, sending it rolling over the side of the cliff.
Murland watched the body for any sign of life, amazed and hoping beyond hope that it was really over. Willow kicked the corpse, and a leg twitched.
“Look out!” Murland cried, and he aimed his wand, summoned magic to his core, and released the most powerful fire spell that he had ever conjured. Thick flames and molten lava spewed forth from his wand, engulfing the dragon’s corpse and burning it to ash.
He ended the spell when he thought he might pass out, and the silence that followed was complete.
The imprint of Drak’Noir’s body smoldered, and Murland looked to Caressa.
“We did it,” she said breathlessly. “We really did it!” she screamed.
They ran to each other and hugged. Gibrig wiped a tear from his eye and dropped his shield as Hagus patted him on the back. Brannon turned to Valkimir and kissed him deeply.
“She really dead-dead?” said Dingleberry. “Them dark gods be trick-tricky.”
“She is right,” said Sir Eldrick. “We must check that the head is dead.”
The companions, followed closely by the astonished wizards and witches, made their way down the side of the mountain. Black blood was spilled down the mountainside, showing them the way to the dreaded dragon’s head. It lay wedged against a rock, and by all appearances, it was surely dead.
“Should we destroy it?” Murland asked Sir Eldrick.
He turned to the wizards, and High Wizard Fracco stepped forth. “It is probably a good idea,” he said. “You never do know how evil might try to claw its way back into the world. May I do the honors?”
Murland nodded, and everyone stepped back. The high wizard swirled his wand in wide circles before pointing it and unleashing white-hot fire. When the spell subsided, only the blackened skull remained.
Sir Eldrick looked to the other companions as they limped over to him. Hot tears welled in his eyes, but a wide smile was creeping across his face. Sir Eldrick laughed, they all laughed, and once they started, they couldn’t stop.
Chapter 39
The Calm After the Storm
Murland watched nervously as High Wizard Fracco and two other wizards used magic to dig beneath the broken and smoldering College of Kazam for Headmaster Hinckley. Caressa squeezed his hand as she stood beside him, offering support.
“You think he survived?” Willow asked. “Looked to me like he got smooshed.”
Brannon gave a long sigh. “You really need to work on your tact,” he said.
“Oh, right, sorry,” said Willow, glancing at Murland.
A small commotion began in the tunnel that the wizards had created, and three more wizards ran down it. Murland and the others got closer, staring at the opening with growing concern. Finally, after many long minutes, Fracco and the others emerged carrying a dirt-covered Hinckley.
“Is he alive?” said Murland, rushing to their side.
In response, Hinckley suddenly coughed and choked and feebly opened his eyes. “It’ll take more than that to kill me,” he said weakly.
“Headmaster,” said Murland excitedly. “We did it! We defeated Drak’Noir.”
“Well done,” said Hinckley, gesturing to Fracco and the others to let him try and stand on his own two feet. He stood before the companions and smiled proudly. “It seems that indeed you are the Champions of the Dragon.”
“But the portal still remains,” said Murland, pointing to it high on the top of the mountain.
“So it does,” said Hinckley. “But you have all done enough already. Let us worry about the portal. If Kazimir figured out a way to close it, then so shall we.”
“Look!” said Gibrig, pointing to the north.
“Well I’ll be damned,” said Sir Eldrick, and they all turned to see Atlas, which was battered and smoldering but still floating in the sky.
Murland breathed a sigh of relief, for he felt guilty enough about all the wizards and witches who had died trying to fight the dragon on his behalf.
“I was so worried ‘bout Lyricon,” said Gibrig, sniffling. “Ye think he be alright?”
“If I were a betting man, I’d say so,” said Sir Eldrick.
The floating city came to a stop beside the College of Kazam, which rested on a large natural shelf near the top of a peak neighboring Bad Mountain. A drawbridge was lowered, and Lord Lyricon himself glided across it, followed by two tall ogres.
“So, the Champions of the Dragon have been victorious after all,” he said, noticing Drak’Noir’s blackened skull strapped to Willow’s back. He began to clap and then elbowed his guards to clap as well.
“We sure be sorry that the dragon went after ye,” said Gibrig. “Hope no one got too hurt.”
“There were many deaths,” said Lyricon. “But it could have been worse. Everyone who paid to watch the fight signed a waiver. Of course, that will not stop them from trying to sue me for damages and wrongful death. I must say, you all put on a hell of a show. I have no doubt that the tour will make you all rich beyond your wildest dreams.”
“You don’t expect us to begin your silly tour now, do you?” said Brannon.
“What? No, of course not. That will not be for a month or so. I imagine that you will all want to relax for a while. You’ve been on one hell of a quest, haven’t you? I will of course give you a ride wherever you may wish. Atlas still has life left in her, which is more than I can say for that floating school.”
“Could you bring us to t
he Wide Wall?” said Murland.
“Of course, but I could bring you much farther. Surely you are tired of the road.”
Murland glanced at the others. “I only speak for myself, but I don’t mind riding home from the Wide Wall.”
“That will be fine for us as well,” said Sir Eldrick, smiling at Akitla.
“Count us in,” said Gibrig. “Poor Snorts must be so lonely.”
“You sure that you don’t want a ride on the Iron Fist?” came the voice of Captain McArgh.
“Captain?” said Caressa, seeing McArgh and Ravenwing walk across the bridge from Atlas.
“The one and only.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I guess I hate to miss a trick. You lot put on a hell of a show. Congratulations.”
“Indeed,” said Ravenwing. “Seems that the darklings held up their end of the bargain.”
“You watched the whole thing and didn’t help?” said Caressa, scowling at Ravenwing.
“I’m afraid that my help would not be appreciated by the wizards of Kazam College,” said Ravenwing, grinning at her. “Women of power make them feel threatened.”
“Murland,” said Hinckley. “Might I have a word?”
“Of course, Headmaster,” said Murland, following Hinckley off to the side where they might speak in private.
“You have done well, lad,” said the headmaster. “You and those friends of yours have finally rid the world of that devilish dragon. But there is still Zuul to deal with, and I am afraid that none other than you can defeat him, for it is spoken of in the Prophecy of Allan Kazam.”
Murland had nearly forgotten about Zuul, and his apprehension must have shown on his face, for Hinckley patted him on the shoulder. “Do not fret,” he said with a kind smile. “We will be there to help.”
“When must I face him?”
The Legend of Drak'Noir: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 3) Page 29