Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “Dragons!” someone shouted.

  Atilan tore his eyes from the spectacle and looked up to see none other than Garganafan and Malliath dropping out of the sky. The two largest of their kind, with Malliath of a temper not dissimilar to Atilan himself. The king had always dreamed of keeping the black dragon for himself, as a mount.

  Krayt ran ahead of the group, past The Veil, and fired two spells of destructive energy into the sky, forcing the dragons to change their approach. Garganafan came in first, from the left, and swept over the top of the trees with a breath of molten fire. Atilan raised his staff and cast a defensive spell that arched over the twenty humans, shielding them from the inferno. The air was soon filled with the smell of sulphur and ash. Someone screamed at the sound of their roar, but most responded with spells of their own, lighting up the sky with every colour.

  Malliath returned their barrage with fireball after fireball, each large enough to consume ten men. Atilan kept them all at bay, while Krayt landed a successful blow against Malliath’s underbelly with a lightning spell. The dragon roared and flew higher into the air, giving Garganafan the space to swoop in.

  “Naius!” Atilan shouted.

  “It needs more time!” the wizard bellowed.

  The king lifted his staff high into the air and called on nature to bow before the self-proclaimed ruler of all. Atilan stirred the clouds and changed the atmosphere, altering the pressure in the air. Grey clouds became black clouds, and thunder rolled across the heavens as lightning streaked within. Amid the pouring rain, Garganafan’s breath of ice was met with a combined spell of fire from the group and a shielding spell from Paldora. By the time the standoff was over, the storm above was ready to be unleashed.

  Malliath’s next run was interrupted by the staccato of lightning. The dragon weaved between the bolts, but was unable to evade them all. His cries of pain brought a smile to Atilan’s face. Garganafan took several bolts to the back, but the golden dragon was indomitable. The king could feel his gaze directly over him.

  “Your Grace!” Naius gestured to The Veil, which had expanded now into a portal of pure white. “We must go, now!”

  “Go!” Atilan ordered.

  Those few who had kept their faith in him ran for the portal. Naius and Krayt were the last to pass through, with Atilan pausing only to stare at Garganafan, who was still hurtling towards him. One last look of defiance was the impression Atilan wished to leave the dragon with.

  “I WILL RETURN!” The king walked through the gateway and the portal collapsed… leaving The Veil behind.

  I

  Part One

  1

  Return of the Dragorn

  The towering pyramid of Malaysai burned, an inferno in the heart of the city. Black smoke poured out of every window and balcony, masking the horizon beyond The Great Maw’s jungle canopy. From his position in the sky, Gideon could see the crowds of Darkakin warriors running towards The Goddess’ palace, pushing through the mob of savages; their weapons catching in the sun.

  Can you see Galanӧr? Talking to Ilargo through their bond was starting to feel as normal as breathing.

  No, Ilargo’s young, male voice replied. But the crowds of Darkakin are picking up weapons now.

  He must be inside the pyramid…

  Ilargo continued to glide over the edge of the city with his magnificent, green wings extended, the soft membranes taut in the wind. Gideon held on tightly to the horns protruding from the back of the dragon’s neck and adjusted his position to see directly below. The golden flecks decorating Ilargo’s green scales were mesmerising, but Gideon, a Dragorn now, focused on the scurrying Darkakin.

  I can't see. His human eyes couldn't be compared to a dragon’s.

  Ilargo didn't have to say anything for Gideon to interpret the subtle shift in the dragon’s muscles. Bracing his legs, the Dragorn tensed his entire body before Ilargo tucked in his wings and dived.

  An acute state of alarm and a moment of panic rushed through Gideon’s mind, transferred from Ilargo’s own emotions. The Dragorn tilted his head to look around and over Ilargo’s neck, but the dragon barrel-rolled to the left without warning.

  Hold On!

  Ilargo’s words, much like his evasion, came too late for Gideon. The dragon’s sudden inversion had the mage falling through the sky with nothing but the hard ground rushing up to meet him. It was only seconds, however, before Ilargo was under him and matching his descent until they were together again.

  We will have to practice that…

  Gideon wasn't looking forward to it. He wanted to ask why they had rolled at all, but the answer came in the form of another evasion, only this time, Ilargo tucked in a single wing and dived at an awkward angle. Gideon managed to stay astride the dragon this time and glimpse the giant, iron bolt cut through the air beside them.

  That single bolt was quickly followed by more, forcing Ilargo to change direction time and time again. Gideon looked out over the sprawling city and found the source of the projectiles. Dotted around the edges and atop several buildings were giant ballistas, each manned by three or four Darkakin. This was a city built to repel and kill dragons…

  A heavy weight pressed on Gideon’s conscience. He had brought Ilargo, a member of an endangered species, and a young member at that, to a city of cannibals and rapists who loved nothing more than hunting dragons and wearing their teeth as a fashion accessory.

  My scales are tougher than you think.

  What if they have Crissalith?

  The green crystal was pure anti-magic. In its presence, any mage, or even an elf, was cut off from that extra sense that connected them to the magical realm. It also caused dragons to fall from the sky. As beings of pure magic, dragons simply couldn't exist without that connection, a connection Gideon was now wholly a part of.

  Then we will burn it!

  Gideon felt something change inside Ilargo. That part of a dragon that all men should fear was awoken with all the rage and fury befitting a creature capable of burning the world. That predatory mindset took over Gideon’s mind too, as the beating heart of both dragon and Dragorn came together in perfect harmony. One word came to his mind; unleash.

  The mage held on tight and took a deep breath, braced for the inevitable dive. Ilargo brought in his wings and dropped as a stone from the heavens. The giant bolts whistled past, seemingly from every angle, often close enough for Gideon to make out the barbed tips. When the jungle canopy consumed their vision, Ilargo unfurled his wings and glided over the top with envious speed. The bolts were beginning to slow down now, as the Darkakin grew tired with the constant reloading. The green dragon took advantage of their fatigue and raced towards the towers that surrounded Malaysai.

  Gideon could feel the heat radiating from Ilargo’s scales into his legs. The mage adjusted the position of his thighs, unaccustomed to the forge inside the dragon's chest. The closest tower grew in size dramatically until they were close enough to see the terrified faces of the savages. Ilargo spat, as any human would, and let loose his devastating breath with a blazing ball of fire. The top of the tower exploded in a shower of splinters and charred body parts.

  Ilargo’s momentum hurtled them both into the thick of the city, where the dragon wreaked fiery hell. Banking left, then right, to avoid the fresh bolts and arrows from below, Gideon shifted his body with Ilargo’s and witnessed death on a scale he had never imagined before. When the dragon ceased to spit fireballs at the towers, he turned his attention to the sprawling streets with a torrent of flames. Everything burned. A stray arrow bounced off of Ilargo’s scales an inch above the Dragorn’s thigh, and he ducked to avoid the barrage from the rooftops.

  One flap of his wings had Ilargo taking off into the sky, but the dragon deliberately dropped his tail to split the nearest roof in half, killing all those situated on top. Gaining height was truly required to see all of Malaysai beneath them. The city was bigger than any in Illian and almost as cramped as the island city of Dragorn.

  L
ike ants from a disturbed nest, the Darkakin emerged from every hole in the conglomerate of shanty towns. Despite having a clear warrior caste, the savages of south Ayda were all killers and familiar with a variety of weapons. Ilargo continued to dip here and there, allowing his wicked tail to reduce the buildings to nothing but debris, but still, the iron bolts flew across the city, skimming the rooftops in a bid to find their mark. Gideon could see the deadly bolt to their left and was about to shout a warning when Ilargo stretched out his wings and brought them to a complete halt in the air.

  I see it!

  The bolt cut through the air harmlessly and the green dragon dropped onto the collection of rooftops below. Using his four powerful legs, Ilargo charged over the brittle buildings, collapsing most in the process, and jumped down into the street. Their arrival was met with screams from most and anger from those who tried to replace their fear with something that would stop them from freezing on the spot. Ilargo ducked his head, bringing his maw level with the Darkakin that ran towards them. The jet of fire took no prisoners and peeled the flesh from their muscles with ease. Gideon tried not to think of those who were still screaming before their bodies hit the ground.

  Ilargo roared and pounded his front feet into the ground, emptying the streets of all those who survived the inferno. Frustration emanated from the dragon, only this time the emotion was translated perfectly in Gideon’s mind. Ilargo was capable of so much more in the air, but not with the mage holding on for dear life. The Dragorn could see the manoeuvres clearly in Ilargo’s mind and knew well that he wasn't ready to execute them yet.

  In time… Ilargo assured.

  Gideon knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, but he said it anyway. Just be safe.

  Our lives are now linked; we must both be safe, or both will perish.

  Gideon slowly nodded his head, feeling even more responsibility than before. He had to live or Ilargo would die with him. The Dragorn quickly slipped down the scales and walked into Malaysai’s streets. The burning pyramid was easy to find in the distance, with its tower of black smoke against the blue sky.

  Don't forget to use the sword. It’s more powerful than you know…

  Gideon looked over his shoulder at the red and gold hilt of Mournblade. The sword was currently tucked away between the straps of the sheath which housed his shortened staff. He had already cut the red leather of his jacket sliding it into place and was loath to pull it free. At the last second, he reached for his staff instead and mentally commanded the haft to grow to its full length. He was simply more comfortable with the staff and the elven scimitar still felt foreign in his grip, as all swords would, he mused.

  Ilargo squatted down and took off with more force than Gideon would have been able to handle, his wings and tail kicking up the sand in a great plume. More bolts cut across the sky, but the dragon weaved between them and disappeared over the cityscape. Gideon waved the sand from his eyes and wasted no more time; he had to reach the pyramid.

  The streets were chaotic, filled with slaves murdering their masters and neighbors slitting each other's throats, taking advantage of the madness to exact revenge against grievances or simply to steal. What none of them realised, Gideon thought, was that there would be nothing left of Malaysai or even their civilisation when Ilargo was finished burning it to the ground. Using the attack to elevate their own status was ultimately pointless when dragon’s fire awaited them all.

  Four Darkakin ran out of an alleyway and pointed at Gideon, an obvious foreigner, and yelled in their native language. They weren't afraid of him, and judging by the weapons they brandished, they were ready for a fight. The Dragorn had no time to reconsider his route, as the next street would take him directly to the base of the pyramid.

  There are more coming your way, from the east!

  The Darkakin sneered and began to spread out, intending to surround Gideon and overwhelm him. They were all hunters by their very nature.

  Can you redirect them? Gideon asked, taking the measure of his opponents.

  Ilargo’s answer was easy to determine, as a wall of flames tore through the streets to the mage’s left, licking the tops of the crude houses. The screams of pain were short-lived and drowned out by Ilargo’s beating wings, before he took off over the city again.

  Gideon twirled his staff, getting a feel for the balance. He had fought with the magical tool many times and knew how to use it as both a ranged weapon and in close quarters. Unlike in his training, however, the Darkakin came at him as one, the perfect pack.

  Adapting, the mage thrust the tip of the staff behind him with enough force to knock the first Darkakin back to the ground, before thrusting forward with a destructive spell on the edge of his lips. The magic that burst forth broke every rib in the second Darkakin’s chest and sent him careening over a broken cart. A quick pivot and flick of the staff broke the jaw of the third, but Gideon continued his fluid spin of the staff and planted it into the ground, allowing him to jump up and kick the last savage in the face. The kick was swift but it wasn't enough to keep the man down. The Dragorn finished the fight with an arching sweep of his staff, adding a touch of telekinetic magic to the flourish. The savage was flung into the air and sent spinning through the nearest door.

  Normally, Gideon would have admired his technique and taken a moment to congratulate his form, but those days were gone, replaced with days of action and responsibility. Instead, the Dragorn sprinted down the dusty street, jumping over the small fires and charred bodies, while pushing through the growing mob of terrified Darkakin.

  Rounding the corner presented Gideon with more problems, lots of problems in fact. With the dragon back in the air, the streets were quickly growing crowded again; there were Darkakin running wild in every direction, seeking shelter from the shadow that swooped over the ground.

  You couldn't have dropped me a little closer?

  As you wish. Ilargo replied. The next time we make a frontal assault on a city of barbaric savages, you can choose where I drop you… but I will choose the height.

  Gideon almost laughed at the dragon’s tone, but the spectacle in front of him robbed the mage of any response. Ilargo glided down into the main street with all the grace of a boulder and smashed into the throng of Darkakin. His magnificent wings sliced through the crowds, dropping men and women, until the dragon took off again with a savage in each claw. The four helpless Darkakin were taken high into the air before returning to Verda’s unyielding embrace. Their cries for help were brought to a sudden stop when they hit the ground.

  Normally, Gideon would have winced at the sights and sounds, but the connection he now shared with Ilargo gave the young man an edge. A predatory side of the dragon’s personality, combined with Gideon’s instinct to survive, took charge of his senses.

  Broken and bloody Darkakin crawled through the streets, their limbs twisted into unnatural positions, while others were simply missing them. Ilargo wasn't even a fully grown dragon, yet the ruin he could bring down on man’s world was beyond compare.

  Gideon ran down the long, main street that cut through the city, his staff in hand. As he drew closer to the pyramid, its size began to dominate the horizon; he had forgotten how big it was since he and Galanӧr had last fought inside its halls. Tall spikes adorned the edge of the giant structure, each the resting place of some poor soul who had slighted The Goddess.

  How am I going to find them in there?

  Follow the bodies...

  Gideon had to agree with Ilargo’s suggestion. Galanӧr’s skill with a blade couldn't be matched by the savages, not to mention his speed and strength. The mage ran for the opening at the base, but his senses were knocked from him when a mob of Darkakin exploded from an alley in a fit of screams and terror. The Dragorn was jostled and pushed about as the men and women scattered into the street and ran in every direction.

  Gideon managed to break free from the group and get a better look at his surroundings. Ilargo, you’re forcing them towards the pyramid!

&nb
sp; More and more Darkakin were heading towards the pyramid from all over the city. With a dragon delivering death from above, it was clearly the safest place to be. The swelling numbers made it hard for Gideon to distinguish friend from foe, with many ignoring him in the hopes of reaching the pyramid. A quick swing of his staff put down one Darkakin who took too much notice of him, but the altercation attracted more of his violent kin.

  Ilargo!

  I’m a little busy!

  The strain in Ilargo’s response gave Gideon pause. So powerful was the dragon that the mage continued to forget that Ilargo had never done anything like this before. The memories passed onto him from Rainael, his mother, would offer him tactics, but even the queen of the dragons had always been helped by others during the First War and the Dragon War.

  Ilargo get out. You got me here, now leave.

  It took a moment for Ilargo to respond. If one of us dies, we both die. We will fight together, Gideon, it’s our best chance.

  There was no time to respond before the Dragorn was tackled to the dusty ground. His head bounced off the solid slab, disorientating the mage for a moment and offering the Darkakin enough time to wrap his hands around Gideon’s throat. By the time his senses returned, his face had gone red and his eyes had filled with tears, while the savage drooled over him with glee.

  Gideon!

  The idea that Ilargo was experiencing his pain only angered Gideon. His hand darted out to the side and patted the area where his staff had fallen, but only the tips of his fingers touched the wood, pushing it further away. His lungs were beginning to burn now and the blood pooling under his cheeks began to sting. Punching the Darkakin was useless, as the savage took every hit with a wicked smile. Gideon’s survival instincts kicked in, simplifying his thoughts, while searching for a way to be rid of the Darkakin. His right hand shot back in and clasped Abigail’s wand, holstered on his thigh. There was barely enough room to point the wand at the savage’s belly, but the tip of the wood poked into the man’s ribcage and expelled a blast of destructive magic.