by Joseph Lallo
“I see better than you do since last we met,” Cyrus taunted. “You've become a low form of life, trying to warp the minds of others to your will so you can escape this well-deserved prison.” Cyrus nodded to those behind him and the forces of Sanctuary began to spread out, encircling the platform.
“I have not needed to bend the will of my most recent servants,” came the near-indignant reply. “They,” he gestured to the figure in the black cloak, “have come to me willingly, offering their services for a price.
“You should have joined me.” The Dragonlord looked back at Cyrus. “Today is the dawn of a new order, one which will see me as Dragonlord of the northern lands, and soon enough, all Arkaria. Dragonkin,” Ashan'agar's eye narrowed, “are a superior race, and those of you who survive will be ruled by us.”
“Where are your spiders and rock giants to defend you now?” he taunted the dragon.
“They are dealing with your rabble on the surface,” the dragon said. A cold chill ran up Cyrus's spine and a cackle filled the cavern as the black-cloaked figure climbed onto the back of the dragon and the wings began to flap.
“Attack!” Cyrus shouted. The force of Sanctuary assaulted Ashan'agar from all sides. Vara leapt forward through the air as Cyrus experienced a moment of deja vu – brought to a halt when the dragon's wing extended, blunting her sword thrust and blocking her landing. She impaled the dragon's right wing, stabbing through the shallow tissue and out the other side. Her feet failed to find purchase, leaving the paladin hanging in mid-air, holding onto her sword.
Cyrus rushed forward, plunging his blade much more skillfully than he had a year prior, finding purchase between the scales of the dragon's foot. Spells crackled in the air around him and the dragon roared. A burst of flames shot past Cyrus and across the chamber. I hope that didn't hit anyone, he thought. He looked back to see people scurrying out of the way, a few narrowly dodging the fire.
He twisted his blade and pulled up, dislodging one of the scales as the dragon let out another shriek. Cyrus sheathed his sword and dug his gauntlets into the space between the scales of the dragon as he began to climb the Dragonlord's leg. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed Vara was still hanging from the wing.
The ground began to recede as the dragon flew toward the top of the cave. “Wizards! Evacuate to the portal!” Cyrus shouted to the army below. He scrambled, climbing up the dragon's shoulder. Upon reaching the wing, he wrapped his arms around it and clutched as hard as he could. “Vara!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Hang on!”
A jarring shook the warrior as the Dragonlord struck the ceiling of the cavern, claws digging in. Cyrus could hear the crumbling of the roof as the dragon smashed against solid rock at the ceiling of the cave. The sound of cracking stone filled his ears and boulders began to drop as the dragon hung upside down and clawed, throwing aside dirt and rock. Cyrus held onto the wing, protected from the falling rock by it.
A burst of sunlight filtered down and Ashan'agar's head snaked toward it. A roar of triumph filled the air as the Dragonlord wrenched himself through the hole he had created, widening it and dropping more and more rocks into the chamber below.
Cyrus could only bear to look down for a moment, but in that moment he saw the ceiling of the cavern beginning to collapse. The platform below was strewn with rubble. Please, Bellarum, let them all have made it out, Cyrus thought. The ground shook around him and Ashan'agar burst into the air, flapping his mighty wings and tasting the sky for the first time in years.
Cyrus climbed the shoulder of the Dragonlord, hoisting himself onto the back of Ashan'agar as Vara worked her way along the wing toward the back of the dragon. The black-cloaked figure was clutching the dragon's neck. Without much thought, Cyrus grabbed the edge of the cloak and tugged on it as he drew his sword. The dragon bucked and inverted, costing Cyrus the grip on his sword as he struggled to find something to hold onto. He saw Vara, hanging on the wing and a black cloak fluttering as he fell to the ground below.
There was a sickening crunch as Cyrus hit the rocks and bounced a few feet in the air, only to come down on his right arm. A snapping noise came beneath the armor, drawing a cry of pain. He rolled down a slope of magmatic rock and dust to come to rest at the bottom of a hill. He blinked and looked up. The Dragonlord was gone, having flown out of sight. The black cloak was fluttering through the air; the figure it was enshrouding nowhere to be seen.
“Hail,” came a voice from above him. Orion was on the hilltop, looking down.
“Ah, there you are,” Cyrus said. “Wondered when you'd turn up.”
Orion grinned. “Knew I was coming, did you?”
“I did.”
“Because of the call to the allies?”
“No,” Cyrus grunted as he rolled over and used his good arm to boost himself to a sitting position. “Because you're a servant of the Dragonlord.”
The smile disappeared from the ranger's face and his bow was out and raised. “How did you know?”
“Not so fast,” Cyrus said with a grin, holding his bad arm with the good. “I'm not the only one that fell from your master. Selene fell with me, and I saw where she landed. If she died and you kill me you'll never find her in time to revive her.”
The bow was drawn back, pointed at Cyrus's head. “Tell me where she fell.” The ranger drew his bow back further.
“I can show you. Why don't we take a walk?” Cyrus grimaced from pain in his ankle as he forced himself to his feet. “I do have to ask... why?”
Orion scoffed. “You know why.” The ranger kept the arrow pointed at Cyrus as the warrior began a slow shuffle up a nearby hill. “Because the Dragonlord can give me everything I've ever wanted. He will rule our world.”
“He will wipe out every living being in order to make way for a new dragon kingdom,” Cyrus said. “Ever heard of the Ashen Wastelands? Hundreds of miles of dust and fire? That's their home.”
“He can't wipe out every living thing,” Orion said. “But you're right: the major cities, like Reikonos, Pharesia, Saekaj – they'll burn. There will be nothing left of them as he builds his empire.”
“I guess millions of dead don't matter as long as you have a new pair of chainmail pants.” Cyrus shifted his weight from his left foot to the right to alleviate his pain. “The night I ran into you in the markets, that was from what he paid you – after you liberated Ferocis from Kortran for him?”
Orion raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You're good at guessing today. How did you know?”
Cyrus shrugged. “I've been with Sanctuary for a year now and I know what our stipend is. I also know that the only bonus you've seen from spoils of war was after I led the assault on Kalam. I've never seen the kind of money that would pay for chainmail like that. So after leaving me in Reikonos Square that first day, you caught a ride back to the square with a Sanctuary teleporter, paid someone for a lift to the mountains and strolled right into the lair of Ashan'agar and offered your services. He didn't even have to coerce you with magic like he tried to do to me.”
Orion smiled. “What can I say? I'm motivated, and the price was right.”
“And the price was?”
The ranger's smile widened. “The best equipment that money can't buy and all the gold I need for what it can.”
Cyrus grunted. “Not enough. So why stick with Sanctuary after that? Why go to Goliath later?” The warrior shook his head, trying to brush out the cobwebs from the fall. He was having trouble seeing straight and he began to sway. “Why not just leave and follow your Dragonlord full time? You might have gotten him free even faster.”
The ranger's eyes looked left to right. “And what if he didn't?” Orion shook his head. “No, I had to keep my options open until I knew we could deliver all the pieces. If we had failed, the reprisal would have been stiff and I'd have needed allies to help protect me.”
“So how did you convince the goblins of Enterra to part with the Hammer?” Cy's eyes narrowed.
“I didn't.” Orion looked around. “One of the Dragonlord's other servants struck a deal with them and also delivered the Staff of Death.”
“Who was it?” Cy stopped as he felt his throat go dry.
“It's not my place to tell.” Orion grimaced. “I didn't know about that servant until after Enterra.”
“Would you have still led the expedition to Enterra if you had known the other servant would get the Hammer?” Cy eyed the ranger, measuring every word.
“Yes,” Orion said, expression neutral. “The Dragonlord's other servant only acquired the Hammer because he betrayed us and gave the goblins...” His voice trailed off. “...what they were looking for.”
“Which is?”
Orion's eyes narrowed. “Where's Selene?”
“This way,” Cy resumed walking, pushing the thought of Narstron aside for a moment. “And in the Realm of Death? The Staff?”
“I told you, I didn't take it,” Orion snapped. “Information was not forthcoming. The Dragonlord kept us in the dark.”
“But you managed to steal Amnis and Ventus from two of the most guarded locations in Arkaria?”
Orion's eyes lit up. “Do you know how difficult those were to mastermind? Two of the most difficult sites in the world to break into, and we stole from both flawlessly.
“Reikonos was the toughest,” the ranger said. “That's why we saved it until last. The elves, they're so arrogant and sure of their magics, they left their barriers as the only line of defense. And they should be proud – their barriers were much more powerful than the ones in Reikonos – not that it mattered.” He chuckled. “Once Ashan'agar finally told us to use one of the weapons to breach the barrier, it was easy. Selene went in with the spider, broke the barrier and teleported herself out.
“In Reikonos, it was a different story,” Orion said, relishing his superiority. “We both had to be there – I had to sound the alarm so you and the Reikonos soldiers would follow the spider, allowing Selene to escape and retrieve the spear from our eight-legged distraction.” He chuckled. “It would have been a lot easier if I could have cast the return spell like Selene can.” A grim look filled the ranger's eyes. “Where is she?”
“Close,” Cyrus said. “I'm just trying to draw things out a bit, because once you find her, you have no reason to keep me alive.”
Orion's face relaxed, and an expression of regret filled the human's features. “I wish you'd have joined us in Reikonos when I asked you to. You are the best warrior I've ever seen and with the power that Ashan'agar's gifts would grant you, we could have formed a guild that would be unstoppable. You would have had the best armor and weapons on Arkaria. The warriors of Amarath's Raiders and Endeavor would have begged at your feet for you to tell them how to be as great as you.”
Light filled the ranger's eyes, and he lowered his voice. “These weapons, they could give us the power to slay the dragons – we could literally save the world, and no one from our guilds would have to know.” Orion smiled. “We'd be heroes. We could write our own ticket – to Burnt Offerings, to Endeavor, Amarath's Raiders, our own guild, whatever. People would follow us. Those weapons grant power undreamed of in this age – enough to allow you to satisfy whatever ambitions you might have.”
“You mean the weapons buried at the bottom of a hundred tons of rock and mountain?” Cyrus said with a hint of a smile.
Orion blinked. “No. You're kidding.”
“The Dragonlord broke the barrier and charged out through the ceiling of his cavern, like some sort of crazed bird hatching out of the ground.” Cyrus raised his hands in surrender. “He left them behind, buried.”
The ranger's face contorted in seeming pain. “I guess the only way left is –”
“An eternity of service to the Dragonlord?” Cyrus said in a mocking voice, still trying to climb in spite of the pain in his extremities.
Orion's face hardened. “I didn't think you'd be wise enough to accept my bargain after refusing the Dragonlord once and me once, but now,” a smile creased the tanned features of the ranger, “I cannot let you live. I warned you about falling into the trap of Alaric's nobility and where it would lead. You could have been the most powerful warrior in the world; instead your corpse will rot undiscovered in the mountains.”
The crunching of gravel behind the warrior heralded the arrival of Selene. Pale and waxy, she looked like she had barely survived the fall.
Cyrus felt a sudden rush as his wounds healed. The blood that had been oozing out of the joints of his gauntlet stopped, his arm knitted together and his head cleared. Without a moment's hesitation he lunged forward, slapping aside the arrow pointed at his head as it flew from the bow and missed him by centimeters. Selene screamed at his side as Cyrus drove his head forward, knocking the ranger's helmet aside. A satisfying crunch told him he had broken Orion's nose.
He brought his head down again and again, both hands restraining the ranger's as he drove the edge of his helmet into the ranger's face. The crack of bones breaking, the sickening sound of flesh being hit by metal registered over and over again in his ears. Orion's arms went limp in his grasp.
Cyrus stood, blood dripping down his face and locked his gaze on Selene, who charged him, arms flailing in mute rage. He dropped his shoulder, catching her in her breastbone. Another cracking sound filled his ears, then the wheezing sound of Selene struggling for a breath. He flipped her easily over his back and she hit the ground with a satisfying THUMP!
“You could have put Orion down a little faster,” came a voice from behind him. He turned, wary. Vaste's hands came up in surrender. “Or you could have lied to him and told him you wanted to join him. That would have been smart; maybe even saved your life.” The troll frowned. “Why didn't you tell him what he wanted to hear?”
Cyrus smiled blankly. “I'm just a warrior. I don't have much use for lying. Thanks for the mending spell. It was well timed.” A sound from behind him drew his attention back to Orion and Selene. The healer had crawled to her husband and they both disappeared in the light of her return spell. “Damn...”
Vaste shrugged. “We have a dragon and an army of his cronies to deal with. Settle personal scores later.”
“They're responsible for letting that dragon out!” Cyrus said. “They set this whole mess in motion!”
“Focus on the threat to the world, man!” the troll shouted. “Vara's still riding the Dragonlord. I saw them fly over a few minutes ago –”
A whooshing sound overhead surprised Cyrus. “Good timing.” The scales of the dragon flew low over his head. “HEY!” he shouted at top volume. “HEY, ONE-EYE!”
Ashan'agar tilted his head back to peer at the warrior. Vara was holding onto her sword, which was plunged between scales in the dragon's side, her legs wrapped around the dragon's wing. The Dragonlord swept down, coming to a dramatic landing in front of Cyrus, forcing he and Vaste to dodge to the side to avoid being trampled.
“You again.” The Dragonlord flung his wings up and down, finally dislodging Vara. She flew to the side, ricocheted off a nearby boulder and came to rest, unmoving.
“Me again,” Cyrus said. “I'm like a bad case of the dragon pox; you just can't get rid of me.” His eyes fixated on Vara's sword, still stuck between the scales of the dragon. He dodged forward, rolling under the dragon's wing before Ashan'agar could strike. With a quick reverse, he climbed the back leg and hopped up to grab hold of Ashan'agar's back. “Let's go for a ride.”
A frightening laugh filled the air around him. “As you wish,” the Dragonlord said as he lifted off from the ground. “I must ask,” Ashan'agar said with a quick flick of his head to look at the warrior, now climbing his back. “How did you resist my charm magic? It has been a long time since it has failed to dominate one of your kind...”
“I'll let you know when I figure it out,” Cyrus said, pulling Vara's sword from the Dragonlord's back and thrusting it into his belt. Ashan'agar had shifted direction and was flying almo
st straight up.
“Disappointing,” the dragon fired back over the howling wind. “I had assumed you had powers unknown, but perhaps you were just lucky.”
“I'm a lucky guy,” Cyrus said. “Where are we going?” He was only a few feet from the neck now, but was forced to climb using entirely his upper body strength. One arm length at a time, he scaled the dragon until he reached the neck and wrapped his legs around it, taking some of the weight off his hands. He climbed faster now, hand over hand, up the dragon's long neck, Vara's sword hanging from his belt.
“To your death,” the dragon answered with another unsettling cackle. “I will take you where there is no air to breathe. Worry not,” he said, soothing. “We'll be there soon enough.” The dragon turned his head around to glare at the warrior, who had almost reached his head. The red eye glared at Cyrus. “Where do you think you're going?”
“Getting a closer look at my death,” Cyrus said, pulling Vara's sword from his belt and stabbing forward as the dragon dodged out of the first strike and wheeled to the left. Now you see me, he thought, a grim smile covering his lips. Cy's fingers dug between the scales and his second thrust penetrated the dragon's single remaining eye. A scream rent the air around him, drowning out the howling wind. And now you don't.
Sliding Vara's sword back into his belt, Cyrus grabbed both sides of the dragon's writhing neck and turned him – just a bit – to the right. Unintelligible howls flew from the dragon, along with staccato bursts of flame and curses in the dragon language. The ground whirled beneath them as Cyrus tightened his grasp around the dragon's neck.
Ashan'agar entered a desperate end over end spin toward the ground below. The Dragonlord's wings flapped to little effect; they were going down. “You fool! You will die too and no one will ever find your body!”
“Small price to pay to defend the world.” Cy braced himself against the neck of the Dragonlord.