On three?
Yes. One, two, three! The dragon dropped the shield and simultaneously breathed fire and drew Second-Realm power. Two of the gormons caught alight, their screams reverberating off the stone walls, floor and ceiling. One managed to erect a Second-Realm shield that protected the gormon next to him as well … just in time for her freshly-thrown fireballs to dissipate harmlessly. Before they could retaliate, she created a shield but only around herself—she couldn’t watch the gormons and Elphus at the same time and didn’t want to stop any attack he was in the middle of.
As the gormons burned, Elphus threw fire at Perculus. Perculus lifted his recently elongated arm and yelled, “Stop!” The flames licked up and around his barrier, leaving him unharmed. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want to hurt me, Realmist. And when I’m finished with you, I’ll deliver your king to Kwaad.”
Instead of roaring fire or throwing a missile, Perculus, assuming Elphus would have a Second-Realm shield erected by now, leapt at the realmist. The force knocked him to the ground. Elphus struggled to breathe—added to his own bulk, the weight of the creature was too much. The barrier could protect anything from directly touching him, but weight could still be transferred.
Perculus placed his clawed hands around the realmist’s neck and squeezed.
Edmund watched his friend’s face turn blue, eyes bulging, Perculus astride him grinning manically. Hatred welled up in the king. Elphus had never hurt anyone—none of them had. Damned if he was going to let evil triumph over them this night. He ran, snatching the dagger out of its sheath in his belt as he reached Perculus. “How does it feel to lose? You gormon-loving traitor.” Edmund plunged the dagger into Perculus’s side.
Perculus’s grip loosened, and Elphus sucked in air.
“What did you…?” The beast slid off the realmist and fell onto the floor. As blood leaked out of his veins and sloshed about uselessly inside his body, he curled into a ball, his vertebrae visible through his translucent skin. His groan turned into a gurgle as blood bubbled from his stomach, into his throat and out of his mouth to dribble onto the floor.
Not wanting to take any chances, Edmund raised his sword and sliced down, depriving the dying advisor of his head. Then he kneeled next to Elphus to see how he was.
Behind them, Arcese called out to the dragons above. We’ve been betrayed, and gormons are coming in under the castle. She pushed the blond-haired soldier behind her and stood within her shield. The two remaining gormons watched warily—their dead comrades had taught them a valuable lesson. “Come on then, stupid beasts: what are you waiting for?” Arcese tried to goad them into making a mistake.
The smaller gormon—similar in height to the dragon—advanced on Arcese, its mouth open, dripping acidic saliva. It was the move the dragon was waiting for. She could allow the gormon to attack, let her shield down when he regrouped, and then breathe fire on him—he would be in the way of an attack from the other gormon. But the soldier behind her was trying to squeeze through the gap between her and the wall.
“Stand back.” She moved to block his way. The gormon pushed past her on the other side and ran for Edmund. “No!” Now she was open to an attack from the front, and she couldn’t breathe fire on the gormon as she would surely hit the king and Elphus.
“Watch out, Edmund!” It was all she managed before the soldier rushed out from her protection and threw himself at the gormon who still stood in front of them.
“For Talia!” he cried. The gormon lunged for him, and the soldier swept his sword across, embedding it into the beast’s forearm, where it stuck into the bone with a jarring impact. Pulling with force, he managed to free his blade, but as he positioned to strike again, the gormon shot out his other arm and raked his talons from the soldier’s collarbone to his hip.
Knowing he was as good as dead, Arcese dropped her shield, sucked in the deepest breath she could and opened her mouth. A jet of fire shot out, enveloping the soldier and gormon. Their screams intermingled for a few seconds then the only sound was the crackle of burning flesh.
Drawing Second-Realm power, Arcese turned, ready to throw a shield over Edmund, but she was too late. The gormon had the king under its arm and a massive foot on Elphus’s chest, crushing him.
The dragon princess couldn’t use fire or lightning on the gormon—Edmund would be killed too. Then she had it. Drawing more power than she had in a long time, she cut through the stone at her feet, fashioning a thick icicle-shaped piece of stone that was as long as her arm. The sound of stone grinding against stone filled the small space as it emerged from the floor, rising to rest in her hand.
She drew her arm back and threw, using Second-Realm power to guide and speed the projectile. As it hit its mark—between the gormon’s far-set eyes—Arcese double over in pain, gripping her pregnant belly.
***
Not long after Edmund left, Pernus waited, Aramonius with him. The other three dragons had been sent to different corners of Bayerlon, two stationed with Alaine and Fernis, to make communication easier.
The captain scoured the night sky. He ground his teeth together, one hand on the sword at his hip, the other ready to grab a nearby torch and start lighting arrows. In the still night air, the acrid smoke from the flaming brands hovered around the men and made his eyes water.
His soldiers stood at intervals along the top of the wall, waiting to light arrows for the nearest archers. The gormons’ oily hide would hopefully be their undoing, and with Elphus having done who-knew-what to the arrows with energy from the Second Realm, they would be more accurate and fly farther.
Pernus wiped a sleeve-covered arm to clear his watering eyes and then stared at the horizon—a black expanse in the black distance—and he laughed.
“What is it?” asked Aramonius.
“Nothing. Why am I even looking out for those beasts? I can’t see anything in the blasted dark.”
“Just be ready. I can see a bit better than you, although these flaming brands aren’t helping my night vision.”
“Sorry, but we need them. Maybe they’ll blind the gormons a bit. Apparently they don’t like bright light.”
“They weren’t always like that.” Aramonius kept looking at the sky beyond Bayerlon.
“In what way?”
“Our ancient texts say they were fine in the daylight when they last lived here, but the Third Realm is a bastard of a place—a foggy twilight.”
“Do you feel sorry for them?”
Aramonius laughed. “Not enough to not want to banish them back there.” He leaned forward, eyes focused across Bayerlon, looking to the north. “I think I see something.”
Pernus’s heart beat harder as he waited for the dragon to confirm the sighting. He felt the tension of the soldiers who had been standing close enough to hear the dragon’s words.
“It’s them. The gormons are coming.”
“Let the others know.”
While the dragon sent messages to his fellow Vellonians, Pernus sent his boy racing along the wall. He called out as he ran. “Gormons load! Gormons load!”
Pernus held up a flaming brand and waved it about his head, back and forth three times—the prearranged signal. Over two thousand archers lined the top of Bayerlon’s walls, each holding an arrow and waiting for the next sign.
Within another minute, the gormons became small black shapes in the sky. So many, Pernus thought. It reminded him of a colony of bats. He drew his sword. “Tell me when, Aramonius.”
The dragon spoke quietly to himself. “Closer. Closer. Come on.”
Pernus could hear the sharp intake of breath and swearing as his soldiers sighted the enemy. To stop anyone going into shock at the sight of the monstrosities, Edmund had asked Verity to draw a picture of Kwaad. They had it copied a few times and handed it around. Everyone knew what to expect—although meeting one was not the same as seeing a picture.
They were close enough now that Pernus could see the angles and points of their wings and their ta
ils streaming behind. And was that. . .? What in the Third Realm? Red eyes. The glowing red orbs shone like hot coals in the dark.
“Light them!” Aramonius’s voice carried way down the line, and Pernus raised the torch in the air, waving it about again. Atop Bayerlon’s wall, two thousand arrows were nocked, each miniature blaze a spark of hope for a dead gormon.
The dark mass reached the city, but they flew too high for the arrows to reach, and Pernus refused to give the signal. Craning his neck, he looked up at the ugly creatures. It was like looking through a portal into the Third Realm. The mass formed a circle. Like a toxic whirlpool, they flew faster and faster above Bayerlon.
The men around him stood proud, but fear shone from their eyes almost as brightly as the flames at the end of the arrows.
Where would the gormons choose to strike? They could break from the pack at any time, go in any direction.
“Can you do something with Second-Realm power?” Pernus asked the dragon.
“No. I have knowledge of the power contained within Talia, but I’m not close enough to the source to syphon enough. Only those trained by a realmist can do that.”
“And the gormons?”
“I daresay they have those who are capable and those who are not—like us or your people.”
“Where’s Arcese and Elphus? They would know what to do.”
“I’ll see if I can contact them. But get ready. Let’s hope they’re not too intelligent, and that blood lust causes them to rush together.” Arcese, where are you? We need you up here. The gormons have arrived. She didn’t answer immediately, and Aramonius looked across at the captain. “She’s not answering.”
“Try again.” Pernus kept his sight on the swirling evil above and resisted the urge to run.
Arcese. It’s Aramonius. Are you all right? What’s happened?
Sorry . . . I’m okay. We were attacked. The gormons found a way to enter under the city. We lost both soldiers, and Elphus is hurt. They were trying to take Edmund.
Can you make it up here? The sky is teeming with them.
Yes—if we don’t come across any more. Watch for them coming from below.
Will do. Bye. He cut off the connection. “Pernus, they’re going to try to come up, but the gormons got in under the castle.”
“What in the Thir….” Pernus stopped midsentence as the first gormon broke from the vortex and dove toward the east, and the bottom of the city. One by one, they broke ranks and darted to all ends of Bayerlon. Pernus shouted “fire!” and waved his torch about his head, pieces of ash floating down around him.
The twang of released bowstrings and the whizzing of fire shooting through the air vibrated throughout Bayerlon. It was hard to tell if many had hit their mark, but the archers immediately grabbed another arrow, which was lit by a nearby soldier, nocked and fired. As the second volley arced through the air, some images of success could be seen.
Around the city, forty or more gormons were alight. Viscous gray smoke billowed from the burning creatures. The falling conflagrations reminded Pernus of shooting stars or fireworks—spectacular in their brilliance, but as they neared the ground, they turned into black slag. One body landed on the wall near the captain—the burning heap barely alive. Pernus approached it, ready to slice its head off. Its red eyes dimmed, and it bared its teeth just before the flames snaked up and consumed its head—life in its eyes finally doused.
For every gormon that was shot, many more flew through unscathed—some were too fast, easily avoiding the arrows, and some had been hit, but, Pernus surmised, they must have had Second-Realm shields up because they didn't combust.
Shouts and screams filtered up from the city below. Gormons had started to land on buildings, on the wall and in the streets. The archers picked off the ones they could, but the gormons soon learned to stay out of range.
Pernus heard a noise like a flag whipping in the wind. He spun around. A gormon had its back to him. It grabbed an archer—Donellan—and closed his mouth around his head. One of Bayerlon’s blue-vested soldiers stabbed at the gormon from behind, but the sword slid off, as if meeting ice. The beast ignored the soldier and clamped its jaws shut, severing Donellan’s head from his body.
Not wanting to give up, the soldier continued his assault, hoping he would eventually crack whatever barrier was preventing him from wounding the creature.
“Pest.” The gormon twisted around and grabbed the soldier, Donellan’s blood dripping from his mouth onto the other man.
Aramonius drew what little energy he could from the channels beneath Bayerlon. The problem was that the wall was so much higher than the ground—he had to mine through too much stone before he could reach the source. He mumbled a few words and strode toward the gormon.
“Hey, giant bat, get off my wall.”
It turned its head to stare at the dragon. Aramonius felt the malevolence of a thousand years radiating from those eyes. The gormon opened its maw, ready to breathe acidic fire.
The dragon jumped and spread his wings, using them to lift above the gormon’s head. Just as the fire reached the gormon’s lips, Aramonius, his scales flaring brighter red than before, manifested a large white ball, which was as hard as a dragon’s eggshell. The sphere filled the gormon’s mouth, blocking the deadly flow. Once the ball was wedged in tight, Aramonius pushed harder, the shell cracking on the gormon’s myriad of teeth. Thousands of tomb spiders—the deadliest in all the realms—poured down the gormon’s throat, sinking their fangs in as they scurried.
The soldier, his blue Veresian vest splatted with red, struggled out of the gormon’s grip. The gormon’s shield now gone, the soldier picked up his sword and slid it through the convulsing gormon’s stomach. The point of the blade caught on the gormon’s spine. Twisting his wrist and pushing harder, the warrior was able to work the sword past the obstruction. It made a satisfying pop as it broke through the other side.
All around them, men and gormons died, but too many of the latter still lived. The gormons had a great size advantage and were able to kill three, four or five men at once with their acidic fire. Not content with fighting the soldiers, the gormons were destroying doors to houses. Pernus saw one gormon enter a palatial terrace. The sound of women and children screaming reached his ears, then silence. Exiting the home, saturated in blood that clearly was not his, the gormon looked left then right before choosing where to continue his murdering spree.
Pernus sprinted along the wall, trying to help those who were battling the ghoulish beasts, Aramonius behind him, shouting advice when he could. The odors of battle assaulted Pernus’s senses—burning flesh, the metallic tang of blood and the smell of fear and vomit. Mixed in with these was the unfamiliar sulfuric, swampy stench of the gormons.
“Calen!” The captain ran faster. A gormon held his young errand boy by the ankles, dangling him in the air above his open mouth, like a bunch of juicy grapes. The child flailed his arms and screamed, trying to break free.
“Pernus, I’ll distract it; you try to grab the child. When you grab him, run as fast as you can. I’m going to light that Third-Realm kindling.” When they reached the duo, the dragon breathed a small spurt of fire at the gormon’s feet, but it sputtered out.
“Argh!” The Third-Realm creature fixed the dragon with its red-eyed stare. “You dare interrupt my meal, you Drakon-loving lizard. I’m Embrax, third brother and priest of the great Klazich, soon-to-be co-ruler of Talia. You will bow down to me!”
“Who are you calling a lizard, you slimy excuse for a worm?”
The gormon flung the boy high over his shoulder and advanced on Aramonius.
Pernus watched helplessly as Calen flew through the air, having no hope of getting to him in time. Luckily, a nearby archer broke his fall. The captain heard an angry roar and looked over his shoulder. Embrax was close enough to breathe his deadly fire on the red dragon. Remembering, finally, to get out of the way, Pernus ran toward where Calen had landed and grabbed one of his soldiers on the way, draggi
ng him along.
Aramonius couldn’t hold off any longer without giving the gormon a free shot. He opened his mouth wide and a torrent of flames gushed out. The dragon almost laughed at the comical expression of surprise on Embrax’s face—did he forget dragons could breathe fire, or did he think he was invincible? The dragon fire consumed his face. Once his shield dissipated, the flames galloped along his neck, arms, and down his body, dancing to the sizzle and hiss of blistering skin. Aramonius attacked again and set the gormon’s wings alight. The gormon’s wings shriveled and turned to ash.
As Embrax crumpled to the ground, a mournful wail echoed across Bayerlon. The sound weighed Bayerlon down with its promise of a city doomed. Fighting stopped momentarily as the gormons listened, and the Talians looked around—to see where the threat was coming from or to look for a place to run.
Pernus looked to the south. A gormon, far larger than the one they had just slain, soared toward them, fire raining down from its mouth to the hapless people below. A few of the archers fired burning arrows, but the ones that connected bounced off harmlessly. This gormon was coming for them. Pernus assessed their odds, picked up Calen and sprinted for the stairs. “Run! Regroup downstairs. Now!” As he bolted, he felt the heat of gormon fire at his back.
***
Death was instant—the gormon that Arcese had struck with the stone shaft grunted before it released Edmund and crashed to the floor.
Finally able to breathe again, Elphus coughed and sat up, and the king dry wretched before standing. Edmund looked at Elphus and Arcese, deciding the dragon needed his aid more than the realmist. “Did they stab you? What’s wrong?”
She held her hand up, indicating that he had to wait. Elphus’s gasping breaths sounded thin in the cool expanse of the underground chamber—so quiet now compared to the sound of fighting from moments ago. Edmund waited. Finally, Arcese slowly straightened. “No, I’m okay. It was just a cramp.”
Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3) Page 16