Flight of the Dragon Knight (The Dragon Knight Series Book 3)

by D. C. Clemens

  “Is there a way to dispel it?”

  “Yes. I assume the runes fueling it should be somewhere on the other side, so it will merely take destroying them to end the spell. My time in Gremly has prepared me well to counter the worst effects. I recommend Mercer and I continue on ourselves while you prepare the first teleportation rune.”

  “Can you cast the counter spell on myself so that I may join you?”

  “Er, it’s possible, but I suspect the required prana to do so would drain my reserve to the point it compromises my ability to-”

  “Very well, scholar, I understand. Get this done quickly.”

  “Yes, yes. Give me a moment to adjust my prana’s flow and pulsations…” Half a minute later and a bright ball of light hovered over his palm. With squinting eyes, he said, “Let’s go, Mercer.”

  I unsheathed my sword and followed the slow walking scholar. Entering the liquid-like division of shadow promptly weakened Ghevont’s light to be as measly as the flame on a failing wick. He aimed the light to the ground to watch out for traps underfoot. On my end, Aranath’s power needed several moments to stop my lungs from drumming after every breath, but the other side effects were not so easily dulled.

  When Ghevont asked how I was holding up, I regretted answering “Okay,” since that brought up my stomach right under my throat. On swallowing it back down, I asked, “And yourself?” This time my stomach did not get passed my upper ribs.

  “Almost well, but I am realizing this spell has something fundamentally different than Gremly’s. It’s more than just how brutish it is. It’s as though this spell is sick.”

  “Corruption.”

  “Ah, yes, that makes sense. I should have thought about that earlier. Hmm, it seems this spell is tampering with more than my-”

  He stopped, making me do so as well. I looked down near our feet to see a chasm thirty feet wide and who knows how many feet down.

  “As if a tunnel of nausea wasn’t enough to make someone turn back,” I said.

  “Most could not even get this far before disgorging the last three weeks’ worth of meals. Perhaps to the point of dehydration. Speaking of water…”

  Ghevont’s free hand danced in front of him, gathering what moisture clung to the air. On collecting a ball of water large enough to make a nice home for a tuna, he pushed it forward and froze it over the gap, creating an ice bridge for us. The edges were raised a few inches so that a slip wouldn’t mean a swift doom. It didn’t look that thick, but Ghevont moved forward without reluctance. I hoped he wasn’t simply more delusional than he supposed.

  The frozen bridge held his weight, though it griped with little cracks at every other step. I followed ten feet behind him. His bridge couldn’t reach all away across, so he had to squeeze out more water from the air.

  I couldn’t tell if he was putting on a brave face or really couldn’t tell how muddled his awareness appeared to be, but when he let his bridge drop before my last step made it to solid ground, I had to grab his cloak and slap his face. “Hey! Ghevont! Take a second to strengthen your counter spell. I think you’re losing it a little.”

  He blinked about six times in half a second, then shook his head. “A little, yes. The corruption is… I mean, must be-”

  “Ghevont, shut up. I know this is hard for you, but you need to stop thinking and talking. Focus on your prana. Can you do that?” A torpid nod. “Come on. Keep your light going.”

  I kept my hand on his shoulder as we restarted our shaky stroll. This was one of those times when time cracked better jokes than usual. They were the types of jokes that made fun of crippled bunnies born from whores who enjoyed bestiality, but they were still effective. I might have sold the joke short there, but whatever, I just wanted out… and so did my corruption.

  Between exhales, a pebble-sized area below my heart panged against my chest, giving me the expectation that I would see my rib cage jutting outward if I looked down. It freaked me the fuck out, to say the least. Not the protruding rib cage, mind you, but the hunger on my lips. Could I just get a taste of my old power? A lick? How could one miss pain?

  I recognized we neared the end of the spell’s influence when Ghevont’s light brightened. Taking advantage of its wider ambit, I pushed Ghevont faster through the tunnel, as though we were two turds that were finally ready to rush out their compressed confines. We reached fresher and lighter air once we crossed into the brightest shade of darkness possible. Ghevont’s light expired when both he and I fell on our hands and knees to catch our breath.

  I obligated myself to recover quicker and tossed a dragon stone to check if anything alive was with us. The flash of fire brought a blinking vision of my own deformed, corrupted face before giving way to an empty room a hundred feet long and with the beginnings of a huge staircase spiraling to a floor below us.

  Under my breath, I said, “I fucking hate mountains.”

  “What?” asked Ghevont, who was in the middle of standing back up.

  “Nothing. You all right?”

  A deep inhale of the stale, warmer air brought his color back. “Much better. It’s remarkable how the mere aura of corrupted prana can so aversely effect the mind. It’s a wonder you resisted direct infusion for so long.”

  “Still ruined my memory.”

  “True, but you’ve seen-”

  “Yes, I know, I’ve seen what it can really do. Let’s find the runes. I still feel like throwing up my liver.”

  I let my dragon flame extinguish so that Ghevont’s more stable light shined through. Finding the runes took all but turning around. On each side of the tunnel wall was a large spiral carved into the russet stone. Small glyphs dotted the coiled line, which looped six times around itself. At the center of each rune was a little hole filled with a purplish crystal. I almost missed the sound, but Aranath growled.

  “Aranath? What is it?”

  “The rune’s design…”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t recognize it, yet I sense I should. I need to search my memory.”

  “All right.” To Ghevont, I asked, “Now what? Hack at it?”

  “A standard rune can be destroyed with physical force, but I imagine these are no standard runes. They will likely shock or burn you if contacted, but I doubt the caster anticipated defending against dragon fire, hmm?”

  “No, I bet not. Still, I’d first like for Aranath to get a sense of its magic.”

  I tapped the blade’s tip near the left rune’s midpoint. Both Aranath and I cringed from the sparks of numbness that tingled my forearm. I did not need Aranath to tell me what the power reminded me of.

  “It’s a lot like the barrier the Advent put up in the palace,” I told Ghevont. “It numbs you on contact.”

  “I’ve attempted to uncover more information on such numbing spells ever since you described that barrier, but nothing I’ve read comes all that close to matching the appearance and effects of the Advent’s ward. The closest I’ve come across are weapons enchanted with freezing incantations or glyphs.”

  As Ghevont began talking to himself more than me, I summoned two stones and ignited one. I pulled the flame from its source and chucked it toward the center of the rune, holding it there for as long as my training allowed. The rune glowed a bloody blue and crackled angrily, but by the time the flame fizzled out, three loops had melted completely into the rock. The corrupted prana crystal was nowhere to be found.

  Already, the inside of the tunnel looked closer to regular darkness rather than the profane kind. The second rune’s expiration started the full return of non-magical blackness.

  With the runes destroyed, I went over to the staircase to investigate it further, telling Ghevont, “Go make sure no one falls into that pit. I’m going to investigate the stairs.”

  A few feet later, Ghevont thought of the question a normal person would have asked immediately. “Alone?”

  “If no one wanted to ambush us after going through the tunnel of puking, then the stairs won’t have anyo
ne waiting. They want us deeper in, if anyone is here at all.” Before more than a croak left a throat about to divulge what I was certain was going to be theories on surprise attacks, I said, “Not now. Just go.”

  I dropped a dragon stone near the start of the stairs and ignited it. The flight of stairs appeared to be whittled straight out of the dark mountain rock and loomed even larger than I first perceived. Half of the room’s square footage was occupied by the descending stairs, and if the first dozen steps were any indication of the rest, the risers and treading segments were each made to accommodate trolls, not men. I peeked over the edge and kicked the burning stone over it, sending it falling for three hundred feet before the stone hit the floor.

  The dragon fire burned out, but not all the light disappeared. An orangish glow even weaker than the white-hot rock’s florescence filled the bottom of the well. My next lit dragon stone was kicked down the steps. On striding past the dying embers, I pulled up a ball of flame the size of a grape and fed it prana to keep it going over my left palm. With the light in tow, I descended the twisting pillar, staying alongside the well to improve my chances of spotting anyone who decided to come up and introduce themselves to me.

  I pushed my foot speed to a light jog, only being careful not to slip or step on some kind of trap. My presence couldn’t have been a secret to any enemy here, so I did not feel constrained to uphold a silent stroll. I did slow when I saw odd marks or stains here and there, tapping the enchanted sword to check for concealed or vestigial prana. Nothing.

  Halfway down, I finally heard my companions shuffling above me. Someone even coughed. Their nearing company pushed me down faster. The glow at the bottom lifted the darkness more and more. I soon didn’t have to keep my fire alive at all. The genial radiance came out from a rectangular opening forty feet wide and thirty feet high. The curving stairs led straight into the entry, meaning there was no angle for me to seek cover behind. I thus slowed my pace and crouched to peek into the entry.

  With every lower step I gained a greater view of an obviously huge room. Its floor was polished and several shades lighter than the rock making up the stairs. The orange light also brightened up the stone. Rising from the floor to the roof sixty feet up were thick rock columns of brown, white, and gray. Most were lined down the middle, but others stood scattered at random. Next I saw furniture, much of it sprouting from the stone floor and walls. Shelves half-filled with volumes and scrolls, empty beds draped with fine linen blankets, and tables supporting silverware devoid of food stood out the most. A big stove lied near the end of the two hundred foot long space. The right side of the room revealed the entrance to another tunnel.

  Then, with an instinctive flinch, I saw the light’s origin. Making up the entirety of the back wall was a sheet of lava. My brain told me to run from an incoming surge of liquefied rock, but my gut had more courage and watched it for a few seconds longer. If the lava was in motion, it wasn’t moving toward me. It may have had a slantwise, upward trajectory, but its movement remained too sluggish to define a real bearing. The luster coming from the fluid looked too dim to be natural, so I concluded that the barrier holding back the unbelievable force had reduced its true brightness.

  Whatever its exact situation, I dumbly stood up and waited for the others to arrive.

  Odet’s father and my own caught up to me at the same time. Eudon had his bow in hand, while my father’s hand gripped my shoulder.

  “Well?” asked Lorcan.

  “See for yourself.”

  With bow drawn, Eudon took the first step. Even the intrepid king had to pause a moment while his mind absorbed the extraordinary visual. Pretty much everyone who came after did the same, with Lucetta throwing in a hushed “Holy fuck balls” for good measure. Eudon did not allow anyone to stray too far from the staircase. He needed for the next teleportation rune to be carved nearby so that we had a quick escape ready in case the lava barrier failed.

  As Turell and his men created the rune, Lorcan asked, “You all right? Ghevont said the disorientation spell was fiercer than he supposed.”

  “I handled it better than he did.”

  “That didn’t answer my question.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Good.” The pommel of his scimitar struck my left rib.

  After holding in a curse, I asked, “What was that for?”

  “This is no place to go off on your own.”

  “I think it’s obvious our enemy is- Ow!”

  Lucetta’s pinching fingers let go of my ear. “Listen to your daddy, dearest. We become very worried when you go running off to play by yourself. Including your sister.”

  My calf was kicked next. I turned around to see Clarissa, hands on her hips and an expression mixed with amusement and tangible worry. “There’s no reason to go off on your own. You couldn’t wait one stupid minute for us?”

  I stared up at the blocked sky, shaking my head before meeting their gazes again. “All right, I get it. Lesson learned, but the next person who hits me will be murdered in their sleep.”

  Clarissa half hugged me and said, “Then let’s aim you at the first Advent we see.”

  With the rune done, the growing group spread outward an inch at a time. Eudon and Ghevont were quicker than the others when it came to heading for the viscous fire wall. While the back “wall” undeniably emanated heat, it equaled the temperature of a standard bonfire, not the volcanic blaze of an angry Orda. With palms, feet, and armpits leaking sweat unrelated to external factors, I tapped Aranath on the barrier. The familiar sensation was many degrees weaker than previous example, but the power was unquestionably related.

  Ghevont asked, “You mean to say that a barrier holding back a mountain of magma is weaker than the barrier encountered in Alslana?”

  “Putting it that way makes me even more uncomfortable standing this close.”

  “I agree, young dragon knight,” said Eudon. “Come, let us explore what we can before moving into the next tunnel.”

  A sweep of the uninhabited living space revealed no secrets about the people who were last here. The books and scrolls contained benign pieces of information mixed in with a few modern works of literature and poetry. Two big pantries near the stove stored ingredients like salted meats, beans, pickled jars of various vegetables, honey, a little white rice, and lots of dried corn. Not bad for a cult living inside a volcano.

  Trusting the precaution would provide us a few extra moments to escape in case the lava barrier collapsed, the width of the floor beyond the side tunnel was raised to create a barricade of rock. Several small holes were formed at the top to allow a bit of light to drift through and give one an idea as to what happened behind it. With the living area otherwise holding nothing of obvious interest, the lead group headed into the tunnel. It wasn’t many strides before we confronted another blasted disorientation spell hovering in our way.

  Chapter Eleven

  While no less displeasing to the senses, getting through the corrupted mass of confusion a second time was done a little more gracefully. Ghevont and I once again came out of the tunnel to enter a room that paralleled the last. However, the wavering light at the bottom of this stairwell was a lot closer than the last time. Having indeed learned my lesson, I begrudgingly waited until the others caught up.

  Once they came, we crept down the fifty feet to reach a hall twice as long and wide as the living space above, though no furniture or any kind of décor inhabited the massive chamber. Large braziers burning wood and charcoal were attached to the stone columns, but most released a pitiful shine not fit to light the pillar they sprouted from. By adding a couple of torches, the meager glimmers were still enough to give the rune carvers the brightness they needed. Given that Eudon ordered for a hundred more men to be brought down to join us, he wanted two runes to be carved as large as possible.

  Meanwhile, Eudon’s group slinked across the hall. No doors or tunnel entrances appeared on our flanks, but squinting eyes informed us of a tall, shadowed exit
at the far end of the room.

  “I smell something,” said Clarissa.

  “What?” I asked.

  She sniffed the air. “It’s like spoiled blood.”

  “Human?” asked Ghevont.

  “I don’t know. Maybe a little, but most of it is a mix of other things I can’t put my finger on.”

  “Can you trace its origin?”

  “No, it’s kinda everywhere. I don’t like this room.”

  “Because the others were just darling,” I said.

  Then, about halfway down the hall, a rumbling noise stopped the lead group in our tracks. It didn’t sound much different from the mountain’s own undulating heartbeats, but this echo was wetter, closer, and yet more muffled. It was as though a large cow was snoring somewhere within the rock. The jingling of chains accompanied the hoarse, throaty vibrations. Both sounds dwindled back to silence a few seconds after the initial disturbance.

  The next disruption came from Clarissa when we came another ten yards closer to the end.

  In a murmur only I and death could hear, Clarissa said, “Uh, Mercer, someone is standing just beyond the exit.”

  “You sure?” I asked with a louder voice to attract the attention of the others.

  “Could be a statue, I guess. They aren’t moving.”

  “Who isn’t moving?” asked Lorcan.

  “She sees someone by the exit,” I said.

  “Really? I still only see a black opening. Let us know if it moves.”

  We kept moving, wanting to see what the vampire’s sight could already pick up. Lorcan was the next to spot the same figure, followed by his wife. Eudon’s reaction to discerning the humanoid shape was to raise his bow, though he didn’t yet draw the string. I eventually picked up the outline, which still hadn’t move. Only blinks broke my focus on the figure.

  I almost jumped when a hushed but excited Clarissa said, “He moved his head up! Shit, he’s looking right at me!”

  “Enough of this,” said the most resolved man I ever heard.

  Eudon pulled the string and charged a golden arrow. He increased his stride’s length and speed, forcing his allies to sprint to keep up. Those with fire and light spells cast them forward to brighten the figure. Most of the light bounced off a familiar black ward placed within the high ingress, but a few streaks fulfilled their purpose. They uncovered the brown cloaked Advent who stole the queen’s holy prana and life.