by M. L. Brown
This dragon was much bigger than the last. I don’t know whether it was quite fifty feet long, as Regis had estimated the largest dragons to be; it was too dark to tell. The dragon blew great billows of fire that lit up everything for an instant like bolts of lightning. It was a terrifying sight, but my terror didn’t keep me from noticing how stiffly the dragon moved. In fact, it was moving like—dash it all, it was moving just like a puppet.
“It’s Necromancy,” I hissed. “Maldos is controlling the dragon.”
“Do not move,” said Kana. “Do not speak. It may not notice us in the dark.”
There were more billows of flame, and then the crackling sound of something burning. Thick smoke covered us. I started coughing. Fire blossomed from the ground nearby.
“We have to move,” I said, pulling Kana by the arm. “It set the field on fire.”
We tumbled into the remains of the watermelon field as the cornstalks dissolved into flame. Kana lay next to me. I shook him. “Come on, we need to find another field.”
He didn’t move.
I began to curse under my breath, tears gathering in my eyes, and checked for a pulse. He was alive. I stopped cursing. Whether he had bumped his head or passed out from smoke inhalation I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. I was alone.
As I turned Kana over on his back, I felt a hard lump in one of his pockets. It was a metal case. I opened it and felt a hysterical urge to laugh. It was full of shuriken.
The dragon crashed through the blazing cornfield, scattering cinders like thousands of fireflies. I took the shuriken and ran, waving my arms and shouting, hoping to draw the dragon away from Kana.
My friend, I hope you see how profoundly I was affected by this adventure. Three months before, I would not have dreamed of confronting a dragon, let alone trying to draw its attention to myself. My time in Gea had changed me. Rather, to be more precise, my time with my friends had changed me. It was impossible to spend time with people like Tsurugi and Regis without some of their selflessness rubbing off on me, I suppose.
The dragon was quick to notice the paltry human hurling insults at it. It lunged forward. Then something odd occurred. It checked itself and drew back, as though it had suddenly remembered that humans were high in cholesterol or saturated fat. It wavered for a moment, then shook itself and lumbered toward me.
The human mind is an amazing thing. I was dizzy with fear, blinded by bright flashes of flame and choking on thick smoke, yet I found myself analyzing the situation with a logic and clarity that would have made Sherlock Holmes proud.
If Maldos was controlling the dragon, it wouldn’t kill me. The Necromancer needed me alive to open a passage between Gea and Terra. The dragon, however, seemed intent on roasting me. This could only mean one thing. It had shaken off the controlling influence of Maldos. The dragon was now a beast in search of food.
I threw a shuriken at the dragon. It missed completely. Cursing fluently, I carefully took aim with another shuriken and sent it whizzing toward the dragon’s face. It lodged in the scales above its eye. The dragon gave a roar and reared up on its hind legs.
Then I remembered everything I had ever read about dragons. In the stories, they always had soft underbellies. I threw another shuriken. It struck the dragon’s abdomen and fell to the ground. So much for that idea. The dragon dropped onto its forelegs, opened its mouth and spit out a blast of fire. I could feel my clothes burning as I rolled out of the way.
I circled the dragon, throwing shuriken after shuriken, trying desperately to find some weak point. It was difficult to take aim in the dark. The dragon continued to breathe out fire. Its tail, which bristled with spikes, whipped round once and nearly pinned me to the ground.
An idea occurred to me. It was dangerous—suicidal may be a more appropriate word—but it was all I had. I was exhausted. My eyes stung from the smoke. I couldn’t stop coughing. I had nothing to lose, and yet, as I have already noted, when we have nothing to lose is often when we win.
I stopped running.
The dragon crashed toward me, stopped about twenty feet away and regarded me with crazed yellow eyes. It was close, close enough for me to see its scales shining as it snorted spurts of flame. For that moment I was no longer aware of Kana’s body, the death of Tsurugi or anything else in all creation. All my attention was fixed on the dragon.
At last, when I thought I could stand it no longer, it opened its mouth. It was like looking into a furnace. The dragon inhaled, preparing to spew forth a torrent of flame, and I threw a shuriken.
It passed through the roof of the dragon’s mouth and into its head. The dragon faltered, blew out a brief spurt of fire and fell over on its side. One of its legs twitched. Then it lay still.
My friend, we have known each other for many years. In all our long friendship, I bet you never suspected I once equaled old Saint George and slew a dragon.
Casting aside the shuriken case, I ran back to the field where I had left Kana. I couldn’t find him. The Darkness was too thick. I shouted, and was on the verge of tears when I heard a faint reply. Before long I had found him.
“Where is the dragon?” he asked, holding his head.
“It’s dead,” I said. “I borrowed your shuriken.”
He laughed. I joined him, and for a minute our mirth rang loud and clear against the diabolical cackle of the Darkness.
We resumed our trudge toward the farmhouse. In spite of my exhaustion and sorrow, I couldn’t help chuckling, “Just wait until Regis hears about this.”
17
LANCE ELIOT AND THE REUNION
WE REACHED THE FARMHOUSE and retrieved Kana’s pack.
“Maldos must know we’re here,” I groaned. “We can’t stay. Hang it, I’m so hungry.”
“Perhaps we could delay our departure until we have had a meal,” said Kana. “Before we do anything, I must apologize.”
“Whatever for?”
“Lance Eliot, I am so sorry. None of this should ever have happened. Our problems were never your affair. We should never have dragged you into it. Your sufferings are entirely our fault.”
“Forget it,” I said, smiling in the dark. “Just a mistake, and even the best of us make mistakes. Believe me. I know.”
We had a small meal, though it was a feast as far as I was concerned. There was bread (stale but edible) and dried meat and fresh water.
Kana and I took turns talking during the meal. I was eager to find out how he had escaped the destruction of Faurum.
“The story is shortly told,” he said. “The Nomen destroyed the villages around the city and built war machines with timbers torn from the ruins. The siege began. They pressed against the wall every night, leaving us to number our dead as day broke. Almost all of our soldiers were killed or wounded. The Nomen poured into Faurum like a flood, only to discover that by that time the city was almost empty.
“When we saw the war machines, we knew we could not withstand the assault forever. For a few hours we despaired, and then an inspiration came to the governor. You may not know this, but the foundations of Faurum are pierced by a network of sewer tunnels.”
“I remember the sewers,” I exclaimed. “In my first few days in Rovenia, I was taken aback at the lack of indoor plumbing. It took me a while to get comfortable with the idea of outhouses.”
“When the battle turned against us, the governor of Faurum remembered the sewers and suggested evacuation. Several sewer channels passed beneath the city walls. We blocked all but one and quickly evacuated the citizens of the city through the remaining tunnel.
“Some of the citizens did not escape. Many were too old and infirm. A few chose to stay in the city in order not to hinder the evacuation. The governor himself remained. However, the greater number of citizens fled through the tunnel, guarded by the police. The police were the only soldiers left alive in the city.”
“What about Aidan and Tarkka?”
“Tarkka died, though he fought valiantly to the end. Aidan, the old fool, joi
ned the battle on the wall. I forbade him to do any such thing—he was too old to fight!—but he slipped out the instant my back was turned. I did not witness his death, but I was told the Nomen paid dearly for it.”
“What happened to the people who escaped through the sewers?”
“We sealed the tunnel behind us to prevent pursuit. When night had fallen, we emerged and began our exodus northward toward the city of Roque. The Nomen did not pursue us, yet it was a wretched journey. Our supplies were quickly exhausted. The weather turned foul and it began to snow. Dozens died of sickness and exposure. Our dear friend Tamu Baba was among them. More than any other, his death crushed my heart with sorrow.
“At last, under El’s grace and Pelea’s guidance, we arrived in Roque. I met with the city’s governor to warn him of the Nomen. He prepared the city for siege and pledged to care for the refugees of Faurum. My next thought was to travel to Riku to make sure you had been safely returned to Terra. I was devastated to learn from the governor of Roque that Riku had been destroyed.”
“What did you do next?”
“My intention was to travel to Valdelaus to re-create the Resistance. The governor of Roque supplied hunds, provisions and a small escort, and so I set out for the capital. On the way, I met a member of the Resistance who staggered me with an impossible tale. He told me that you were alive. He told me that Regis was alive. My astonishment was completed when he told me that you and Regis were the founders of a new Resistance!
“Most significantly, he told me that you and Tsurugi had departed to Akrabbim, causing no small stir among the other members of the Resistance. I did not know why you had chosen to enter the Darkness, but as the one responsible for bringing you to Gea, I knew it was my responsibility to ensure your safety. So I sent my escort back to Roque, replenished my supplies and hurried to Akrabbim in the hope of finding you. And here we are.”
“How the deuce did you get into Akrabbim unnoticed? You surely didn’t waltz in through the entrance.”
“That is exactly what I did, supposing the keeper of Akrabbim would not expect visitors. Who would be foolish enough to enter the Darkness, let alone travel to its very heart? His overconfidence was our salvation. Now, Lance Eliot, I am very curious. What brought you to Akrabbim? Tell me everything.”
I told him everything.
“Your story brings together the pieces of the puzzle,” he said when I had finished. “It is too unlikely a coincidence for the kingdom to be corroded within and besieged on every side without. I believe that Maldos has long planned the downfall of Rovenia, but I cannot believe the rest.”
“What do you mean?”
“He claimed—”
“It claimed,” I corrected.
Kana frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Maldos is not a man,” I declared. “I don’t know what the devil it is or where the devil it came from, but Maldos is not a man. Whatever it is, I refuse to dignify it with a refined pronoun like he.”
“Very well, it claimed to have brought you to Gea by controlling Maia. The corrupted heart can be swayed by the wicked, surely, but the pure of heart are beyond their reach. Maldos could not force Maia to bring you to Gea any more than I can resurrect her to send you back. The other claims are ridiculous. Even a Necromancer cannot control the flight of feathers in the wind.”
“Then how did it know about these things? Are you suggesting it read my mind?”
“Lance Eliot, there are forces at work that go beyond what can be seen. I cannot say how Maldos knew all it knew, but I can assure you of one thing. However terrible its power, in one way the Necromancer is the mere equal of a naughty child. It is a liar. Truth does not belong to the darkness, but to the light. No, the feathers that saved you were not sent by Maldos. Regardless, I believe they were sent.”
We didn’t linger after our meal. Night was only a few hours away and we wanted to be as far away as possible from Akrabbim when it fell. We found a hiding place in another cornfield four or five miles away. All night we heard the sound of footsteps around us, but when day broke there wasn’t a creature in sight.
There isn’t much to write about our trip back to Valdelaus. It was much like my journey to Akrabbim, with one crucial difference: I was traveling out of the Darkness, not deeper into it. I couldn’t have asked for a better companion than Kana. He was a great comfort, patient and kind, willing to talk or be silent according to my mood. I continued to hear noises and see visions. The memory of Tsurugi’s death was played out again and again before my eyes.
We traveled by day and hid ourselves by night. Almost every night, we heard footsteps pattering through the dark. Apart from the shuriken I had lost, Kana had brought only a katana and a wakizashi. If attacked, our only choice would be to stand our ground and defend ourselves.
After a week and a half of travel, we reached the place where Tsurugi and I had first entered the Darkness. For as far as we could see (not very far) there was no end to the dark.
“The Darkness continues to spread,” said Kana. “At least another day of travel lies before us.”
A day went by. We hurried along as quickly as we could, desperate to escape the Darkness. I could hardly believe our torment was almost at an end. It seemed too good to be true. The black wall of the mountains loomed before us. Beyond them I thought I could see the faintest glimmer of light.
“We mustn’t be caught here when night falls,” I panted as we climbed a slope. “There’s no place to hide.”
“If we can reach the top, we might take refuge among the rocks,” wheezed Kana.
We reached the foot of the nearest mountain just as the dark began to deepen. I had hoped to find a cave in which to hide, but in the end we could only cower among the boulders and hope for the best. I offered to stay awake for as long as I could, then wake Kana and let him keep watch.
Gripping his katana in my hand—I hadn’t the slightest idea of how to use it—I sat next to my companion. The dark was much blacker than pitch. I couldn’t see anything. All I could hear was the dreadful cacophony of the Darkness. When I couldn’t stay awake any longer, I awoke Kana, handed him the katana and stretched myself out on the ground. The blankets were still warm. I fell asleep.
A shout jerked me back to consciousness. Before I knew what was happening, I had been pulled to my feet and felt the wakizashi pushed into my hands.
“They have found us,” said Kana. “Have courage. Dawn is coming.”
We stood back to back, staring into the dark, listening. From all around us came the sound of footsteps.
I felt Kana make a sudden motion and heard the sound of his sword hitting something. I clutched my own sword, feeling fainthearted. A sound came from a few feet away. I swung my sword like a baseball bat and felt it connect with something solid. Whatever it was fell to the ground. There was silence for a moment. The footsteps resumed.
We fought for a long time. Three times I felt a cold hand take hold of me and struggled out of its grip. My arms were sore. My fingers ached. At last, when time seemed to have stopped altogether, the darkness became a little less dark. I could now see the dim shapes of the Necromancer’s puppets among the boulders all around us. They slipped away as day broke.
“Well done, Lance Eliot,” said Kana, taking the wakizashi from my stiff hands. “You continue to astound me. I had not imagined you were a man of such courage.”
“I don’t have much courage,” I said, dropping to the ground. “What little I have is buried very, very deep. Thank God that’s over with. If I ever make it through this, I’m never putting out a light again.”
We emerged from the Darkness about an hour later, right at the summit of the saddle that ran along the gap in the mountains. It was incredible. Words hardly do it justice. One moment we stood in the dark, surrounded by ashen desolation. The next we were bathed in sunshine, green grass beneath our feet and a gentle breeze cooling our faces.
I immediately shut my eyes against the glare and sneezed a half a dozen times.
When I could see again, I looked behind us and saw the land fade from green to gray to black. I looked before us. Vast fields lay ahead, drenched in dew and sparkling like emeralds in the morning light.
“Spring,” I said, and laughed. “By Jove, it’s spring! While we were suffering in there, spring arrived.”
“Every winter gives way to spring; every darkness has a dawn.” said Kana. “Let us move away from here,” he added prosaically. “We must not lose time.”
The rest of the journey was a pleasant dream. We passed through lush vales at the feet of the mountains, coming to farms and villages. It was strange to see people again. I had spent no more than a month in the Darkness, yet I felt like a prisoner released from years of solitary confinement. I had to restrain myself from embracing every passerby.
We stopped in a village to purchase supplies and hunds. As I settled into our room at the inn and enjoyed the long-denied pleasures of a warm fire and a hot bath, Kana made a visit to the mayor’s office. He meant to warn him of the Darkness. The mayor refused to listen. In the end, the mayor’s men picked up Kana and threw him into the street like a common drunk.
If I had been in Kana’s place, I would have stormed in and knocked out the mayor’s teeth. Kana had much more sense. He bought some parchment and ink, wrote a brief warning and nailed the document in the center of the notice board in the town square.
He found me roasting an apple over the fire in our room. When he told me of the mayor’s response, I dropped the apple and jumped to my feet, ready to start a riot, oust the mayor and evacuate the town.
“We have done all we can,” said Kana. “The best way to help these people is to overthrow Senshu quickly. Then these villages can be evacuated.”
We reached Valdelaus at last. The sight of the city moved me almost to tears. It was like coming home. When we came to the gate, the surly guard with the black beard tried to delay our entry. Kana glared at him like Medusa until he swallowed his objections and let us into the city.
The snow had melted. A few brave crocuses were struggling through the soil, and tiny green buds had appeared on the trees. There was something in the air, a sort of freshness that was more bracing than champagne. For a few minutes my fears were forgotten. It seemed like the start of a new and better world.