"What's he doing down there?" Render asked, unwilling to fly out before knowing.
"It's..." Branson's eyes lit up in a mixture of joy and fear. He leaned over to take a look over the edge. "Why, it's..."
"What, Branson? What is it?" Ahndien said.
"He's fighting Mooregaard, but something's wrong. We've got to help." Branson stretched his neck again and almost fell over the edge.
Render caught him by the collar and pulled him back. "Once and for all, who or what is fighting Mooregaard?"
Branson's lip quivered. "My father!"
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
“Traitor!" cried the tall and imposing knight as Render, Branson and Ahndien descended quietly to the ground and hid behind a rock. Clad in shining silver armour, a crimson shield in hand, he thrust his sword forward at Lord Mooregaard, who stood in human form.
From the sword, a stream of fire blasted straight at the black knight but he simply waved his hand and snuffed it out with a mighty wind. It threw his opponent back two steps. "Ah, Lord Agon," Mooregaard said, with alarming calm and an unnerving smile. "Thou shewest thy true colors. I have always suspected you to be a Sojourner."
Render looked to Branson and whispered, "You're the son of a Sojourner."
Agon pointed his sword at Mooregaard and glared. "You know nothing but treachery! You've betrayed your people, blamed every atrocity on the last of our people. But it was you and Volfoncé behind it all!" He sent forth another fireblast.
Unimpressed, Mooregaard held up a hand and deflected it back.
Agon held up his shield.
"Where is Volfoncé, anyway?" Mooregaard asked himself pensively gazing past Agon.
"No doubt reaping the rewards of her betrayal, if there is any justice!" Another blast of fire. This one came a bit closer to its target before Mooregaard once again extinguished it.
"Out of my way, fool! Cease your annoying ranting and I will make your death quick."
Branson almost leapt out. Render caught his arm and prevented him. "Spring too soon, and you'll lose the element of surprise."
"We have to help him!"
"And so we shall, but at the precise moment, when Mooregaard is vulnerable." Render loosened his grip when Branson seemed to understand. Ahndien put her arm around the boy's shoulders.
"Just as Mooregaard transforms, we'll strike," Render said.
Mooregaard stepped forward, annoyed at being cornered in the rockface. With a wave of his hand, he threw a blast of wind at Branson's father and knocked him off his feet. He dropped and landed with his knee pressed into Agon's breastplate. From Mooregaard's sleeve, a dagger slipped out and fell into his hand. He pressed the point into Lord Agon's throat.
Branson hissed. "He's not going to transform."
"Wait!"
But Render was too late to stop him.
Branson leapt into the air and shouted with more ferocity than anyone could have imagined.
At the sound of it, Mooregaard turned and glanced around. "What was that?"
From about fifty feet in the air, Branson crashed down onto his shoulders with all his might. This knocked him to the ground and off of Lord Agon's chest. The dagger tumbled and sunk tip-down into the sand.
Branson sat on the ground kicking Mooregaard repeatedly in the head.
"Branson!" His father cried.
"I've got him, father!" He continued to kick with such rapid force, Mooregaard could not even get to his feet. Every time he tried, Branson kicked him down. In vain, the black knight groped for the dagger, but each time he did, Branson kicked him, pushing him just out of reach.
Though it seemed to weaken him significantly, Mooregaard, prideful to the end, only laughed with each blow.
Render and Ahndien flew forward calling for Branson. Even his father shouted for him to stop and escape. But Branson refused. The frenzied state that besieged him would not permit him. He punctuated each kick with a word:
"You vile!...Piece!...Of!...Dung!"
Mooregaard stopped struggling. Even as his fingers wrapped around the dagger's handle, his body went limp.
"Die...traitor!"
And finally, Mooregaard ceased moving altogether.
Branson stopped kicking and looked at Mooregaard's still body, his head turned to the side revealing open, lifeless eyes.
"Ha!" Momentarily, Branson's own eyes glowed a venomous green hue. "Ha-ha!"
Render took a step forward. "Branson, come away from him. Carefully."
"You're dead, Mooregaard! Dead, dead, dead!"
"Son..." Agon approached cautiously. He seemed disturbed by the display of unmitigated hatred from his child.
But the anger in Branson's eyes soon became tears. "Father...I obeyed your command...went to the mountains...I never knew we were—"
"Son, look out!" Agon rushed forward, threw his son behind him.
Sooner than Render, Ahndien or Lord Agon could react, Mooregaard grasped the dagger which lit up in a deadly green glow, and hurled it straight into Agon's chest. With a sickening clank, it penetrated the silver plating and sunk straight into his heart.
Still reaching forward with his sword, Agon fell to his knees. A fiery blast flew from his weapon, but as soon as it dropped from his hand, the fire died.
"Father, no!" Branson shouted and tried to leap into the air. But Mooregaard caught him by the foot, stood up and threw him aside like a cover-worn book. He grunted as he landed in the sand and skidded to a halt.
Render drew his sword.
Ahndien did the same.
Something from within—an impulse from perhaps the swords themselves—caused them to cross blades. In an instant, a stream of fire and lightning shot at Mooregaard.
He dodged it by leaning slightly to one side. The surprise on his countenance betrayed him for a moment. But the malignance and haughty look quickly returned. "So you are the Great Deliverer?"
Right away, the same accusing doubt that confronted him at the Pool of Madness and in the Shrine of the Ancients returned. Before he could steel up his nerves it sapped his strength.
The blades separated.
While Ahndien continued to hurl fireballs with her left hand and columns of fire with her sword, Render's sword flickered and returned to its natural state.
Mooregaard extinguished Ahndien's attacks with the fingers of his left hand and stepped forward menacingly. "Render? The slave boy? The little whelp of the very dead Sir Edwyn? Thou art neither a deliverer nor great!"
Mooregaard's words sunk into his soul. His legs softened like unbaked dough. He could not even take a step back.
Ahndien blasted twice as much fire at Mooregaard, but now, with the twist of his wrist, a vortex formed in the air and sucked up every bit of air and fire. "Render, fly!"
"I can't...move!" Render's teeth chattered as they had on those frigid winter nights in Bobbington's cottage. The vacuum and frigid air immobilized him as it had the human troops.
"Thou art nothing." Mooregaard locked his gaze upon Render's eyes like a serpent mesmerizing its prey. "Thou hast been deceived to think thou wast anything but a lowly slave!"
With a feral cry, Branson leapt in the air and came down at Mooregaard. But the black knight lifted his right hand, made a circle in the air, which caught Branson like a noose.
Branson strained, clawed at the invisible cord that wrapped around his neck as he hung suspended in the air.
"I can't continue..." Ahndien screamed, "Oh! Render!"
Then Mooregaard cut off her words by hanging her up in the air like Branson, by the neck with an invisible cord of air current.
"Nothing, do you hear? You have delivered nothing but the pitiful mortals of both kingdoms into my hands. Their unbelief makes them more pleasing a sacrifice to Malakandor. And your death will prove to my new dominion that faith in Valhandra is futile. None shall testify to any of these wonders they will all be dead! Generations of mindless, faithless people will be mine to rule. And all because THOU ART NOTHING!"
// NEV
ER MIND US, RENDER. GET AWAY IF YOU CAN! //
Render ignored Ahndien's thoughts and lifted his eyes to Mooregaard's. "Yes." He nodded, his eyes glancing up to his beloved and to Branson, gasping for breath, powerless to escape.
Even His name has power.
"On my own strength, I am nothing." He then trained his thoughts like an arrow, and aimed straight for Mooregaard's skull.
// BUT I AM AS VALHANDRA SAYS! //
Render's entire body exploded with lightning. From every particle of air, he sensed the energy rushing into his body, lending its power.
Accumulating in force.
The sky turned black, just above them.
Every hair on his body stood on end.
Mooregaard's smile faded.
He took a step back tentatively. The black knight's form began to change.
But Render focused all the energy flowing through his body into his hands. He could move one arm. Then the other.
Then Mooregaard took his demonic form. First the wings, then the deadly beak. He rose up to the size of an elephant and began to flap. The wind came as a torrent.
Ahndien and Branson dropped to the ground.
And just before Render discharged the lightning surging within him Mooregaard flew into the air. This would be his most powerful blast ever, he could tell.
But then, just before he released the bolt at the hideous vulture, something rose up into the sky behind it.
Something which made the vulture seem insignificant in size and dread.
Something more terrifying than anything he'd ever imagined.
The power drained from Render's body as he stared in terror.
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
From behind the great vulture, a dark figure many times its size fell upon it. Its words were clear as speech in his mind, and no doubt, to all who were present.
// MOOREGAARD! you have EXPENDED MALAKANDOR'S PATIENCE. HE has SENT ME TO PERFECT THAT WHICH YOU HAVE LEFT UNFINISHED //
Astonished, the vulture turned to find a massive black dragon (similar, yet many times more horrific than the one Render defeated.) It clutched the vulture's throat with the talons of its foreclaws. It appeared as shadow-like as the demon warriors, but its effect on Mooregaard's vulture-form was palpable.
"I pray thee mercy, Ashtoreth!" Mooregaard cowered in his human words, which blended hideously with a vulture's screech. "Behold...I have prepared the...the sacrifice!"
// YOU HAVE SUFFERED THE SOJOURNERS TO RISE AGAIN! MALAKANDOR PERMITS NO SLUGGARD TO LIVE, MUCH LESS REIGN //
And with that the black dragon shot fire and tore the burning Mooregaard to shreds. It devoured his vulture body as he screamed in agony. Bits of smoldering flesh, blood, and black feathers fell to the ground all around Render, Ahndien and Branson. The nauseating fetor and gurgling screams afforded them a moment to run to Lord Agon.
While the ghastly feeding frenzy took place above them, Branson crawled over to his father, whose chest rose and fell rapidly. Render had seen this in the last gasps of his brother Kaine. It brought back such sorrow, he could barely look on.
"Father," Branson sobbed. "I'm so...sorry."
The Lord Agon, now fallen, his life pouring out like wine from a broken flagon, put his hand on his son's face. "Be strong, my son. And forgive thy father for withholding too much...Truly...I have never...left you..."
Branson took his father's hand. "I...Father, I have always believed you...forgive my doubt and impatience!"
Gently, Agon pulled him down to his chest and kissed the top of head. "Do not fear, my son. For you have only begun to see the truth."
He turned to Render, who knelt at his right hand. Then, taking his arm, "I have fought the good fight, O Great Deliverer. With kindness, pray remember my son, when...when...."
Render put his hand on Agon's shoulder. "I shall, My Lord."
And then, after one final gasp, The Lord Agon breathed his last. The tightness in his brow relented. A look of peace, like he'd seen the end from the beginning washed over his face. His eyes shut as though in a sweet slumber.
"Father!" Branson wept, pressing his face against his beard, baptizing it with his tears.
"I'm sorry, Branson." Render said, still aware of the horror that continued above them. He turned to Ahndien who already knew what they both needed to do. Then back to Branson. "Stay here with your father."
Still holding his father's hand, Branson nodded.
Sun light flooded the ground as the shadow dragon's form dropped a single claw—the last remains of Mooregaard—to the ground, and looked to the valley for Malakandor's sacrifice.
Ashtoreth let out a hideous shriek and turned her head just slightly to stare at Render with a malignant vermilion eye.
// I SHALL SAVE you FOR A CONFECTION //
As it flew off, the demonic dragon's cackling laugh echoed throughout the alluvial hills, sending a chill through Render's blood. Had Ahndien perceived its threat? Regardless, he must do everything in his power to stop Ashtoreth.
Render leapt into the air and hovered above. But Ahndien hesitated. He could see the fear in her eyes. "Stay here with Branson."
She too flew up to his side. "We have not yet fulfilled our calling. Let us go now."
Somehow, he knew. She must be by his side, though it pained him to see her apprehension. Against his own heart he agreed, took her hand, and raced to stop the demon dragon.
Ashtoreth blasted a stream of fire at the humans and the Sojourners guarding them. It snuffed out the protective wall of fire suddenly, and formed yet another fiery ring even more frightful than Mooregaard and Volfoncé had done. This was a warning shot, something to terrorize them before Ashtoreth scorched and consumed them. At the sound and glow of the blast, all the demon warriors in the front line flew up over the heads of the Sojourners like a cloud of locusts to the ever tightening fire ring.
The flames climbed so high Render could not see over them.
Ahndien pointed to the hills on the Tianese side of the range. "We can approach from the East."
As they flew behind the summits of the Handara range, Render's entire body began to tingle at the sight. It was as familiar now as it was when he first painted it back in Castle Mitelvald.
The fire cast a red and orange glow over the peaks. Like the sun setting over the Eastern Mountains. Yet they faced the West, where the sun should rise. This was the very scene he'd painted while under Sir Edwyn's tutelage.
Now, out of Ashtoreth's line of sight, Render and Ahndien flew straight to the fire trap.
"They're closing in!" Ahndien pointed to the black demon swarm following Ashtoreth. A few of them shot straight through the fire untouched and fell upon a line of Tianese archers. As the archers fell, their arrows flew lamely into the air, some striking their fellow soldiers. The ensuing sound of the demon hordes tearing flesh from bone was even more horrific than Mooregaard's demise.
Render shut his eyes momentarily.
// GRANT US SUCCESS, VALAHANDRA //
With all his concentration, he conjured up a mighty bolt in both hands. "Distance, Ahndien."
She backed away.
Then, striking his hands together, he sent a broad wave of lightning straight over the oncoming demon horde. A roaring thunderclap followed drawing all eyes below up to him.
To Render's surprise the wave covered the horde. Crackling like embers in a fire, webs of white light crawling over their bodies like flashing insect legs, the demons toppled and fell to the feet of the Sojourners.
"Finish them!" Mikhal commanded.
As the demons fell, their bodies became pale and solid. He caught sight of some, their eyes wide with fear as the Sojourner warriors routed them with spears, swords, fire, and Valhandra only knew what other powers they possessed.
"You've done it!" Ahndien grasped his arm and for the first time today, a hopeful smile escaped the confines of her rueful countenance. But that hope was short-lived. For at that very moment, a very irate Ashtoreth turned her furious eyes
towards them and roared.
Even from a distance of several hundred yards, she seemed as large as a battle ship, her head the prow, her wings like its tattered sails. Render could feel the heat of her anger as she flew straight at them.
Her shadow covered dozens of human soldiers, cowering as her accursed fire ring constricted. Those unfortunate enough to be standing at the edge were charred immediately and fell to a blackened heap as the fire passed through them.
Heart pounding, chest tightening, Render turned to Ahndien. She hovered by his side and gripped his arm intensely. "Get to safety, now!"
"I won't leave you!"
The heavy percussion of Ashtoreth's wings beating the air felt like waves crashing against a rocky shore. It made his ears pop. "There's no sense in both of us dying! Now go!"
But Ahndien would not release him. "Think of something else. I am staying!"
"Why are girls so stubborn!" Render gasped as the heat of Ashtoreth's fire blast flew over their heads. "Fine. Let's give her two targets, then!"
At that, they flew in opposite directions just as Ashtoreth's next blast hissed through the space they had just vacated. Even through his leather vest and shirt, the heat burned his skin.
Render threw a bolt of lightning at the colossal demon dragon. But in his panic he could only muster a short burst. The bolt bounced straight off of her inky scales.
Wings flapping up a wind storm in all directions, Ashtoreth turned her massive head and bore blood-stained fangs. She blew out another column of fire. Render flew up and managed to escape it. But the heel of his shoe was burned straight through exposing just a small part of his flesh. It hurt worse than he thought possible.
Higher he flew, one hand pointed down and eyes locked on the demonic dragon.
Ashtoreth pursued upwards.
Good.
When they leveled off, she stared and her neck bobbed repeatedly. By her fangs and eyes, Render could see she was laughing. She hovered there for a while, the way a cat crouches just before it pounces on its prey. Which was exactly what Render wanted her to do. Anything to draw her away from Ahndien and the people they were charged to unite.
Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga) Page 30