The Dragon's Blade_The Last Guardian

by Michael R. Miller

  Arkus raised his eyebrows. “Both Blades, Darnuir? Do you even need my men to finish this war?”

  “All will be needed before the end,” Darnuir said. “With your leave, we will march to Kar’drun as soon as possible.”

  “How soon?”

  “Tomorrow, if we can.”

  “Done,” Arkus said. “I’ll leave General Adolphus here to consult with you all. I already tire of your company and there is nothing more to say.” Arkus kicked his horse and trotted away, the fifty guards and even Balack following in his wake. A tall, stiff looking man with a blond moustache marched imperiously to Darnuir, yet offered no salute.

  “Just tell me how to work around your legions, and my companies will decimate the enemy,” Adolphus said.

  Darnuir didn’t answer, still watching Arkus’ back and then Balack’s. Was it just his imagination, or did Balack seem less hostile towards him? Was there hope then?

  Adolphus cleared his throat.

  “Of course, General,” Darnuir said, leading him over to Fidelm and Lira. “We saw what just one company could achieve during the recent battle. Having many may well tip the balance in our favour.”

  “I have no doubt,” Adolphus said.

  Darnuir hoped his confidence was well earned. He looked out again to the north, over the ruins of the lower city, over the walls, to the faint outline of the hulking mountain he swore he could see. Perhaps it was only a figment of his fear, but whether real or imagined, it loomed over him, through both wakefulness and sleep, all along that long road north.

  Chapter 34

  A FINAL PROMISE

  “I came here to prepare the hunters against future dragon wars. Doing so almost wills conflict to happen, yet to do nothing is to leave our loved ones vulnerable. Doomed one way and doomed the other.”

  — Elsie the Green, First Captain of the Master Station

  Sonrid – Kar’drun

  SONRID SAT AT the edge of his secret entrance to the mountain with his back against the wall. Zax lay into a curved groove in the rock, looking quite relaxed.

  “You should take a break,” Zax said. “Move around a little.”

  Sonrid eyed him. “I must be here the moment the Three Races arrive.”

  “It’s been nearly two weeks since the red dragons returned,” Zax said. “Perhaps they killed all the Master’s enemies.”

  “No,” Sonrid mused. “Something would have changed if that were so. There were fewer than before. I think they were falling back.”

  “Doesn’t mean the Three Races will come marching here right away. Go stretch your malformed legs for a while.”

  “Won’t you get lonely?” Sonrid jibed.

  “Got plenty of company these days, haven’t I?” Zax said. He faced towards the stairway that led down to the tunnel lit by the twin yellow flames. “Isn’t that right, demons? Come here.”

  A few small demons scurried out of the gloom. “Little Masters,” they said together.

  One came over to Sonrid’s side, while two visited Zax.

  “See, they like me best now,” Zax said. “Go for a stroll, Sonrid. Dukoona’s mission is not your burden alone.”

  Zax was being kind yet Sonrid couldn’t help but feel responsible for the matter. He turned to the demon beside him. It was a touch too close for his liking, perched with its hands on the ground and knees out wide like a frog about to leap. It cocked its head and blinked at him.

  “Have you found more spectres than yesterday?” Sonrid asked. You had to keep the questions and tasks simple. The demon nodded. This could mean they’d found precisely one extra spectre prison or that they’d found a hundred. Either way, more was better. Sonrid couldn’t be picky.

  Zax looked to him. “And you’re certain Dukoona has not been moved?”

  “Last I checked he was in the same place,” Sonrid said. Locating Dukoona would have been impossible were it not for the demons. They were unrivalled at skulking unseen through Kar’drun and having their help had been invaluable.

  “Maybe you ought to go for a walk and make sure?” Zax said.

  Sonrid frowned. “Why are you being so insistent?”

  “You know full well that inactivity only makes it worse for us.”

  Sonrid shrugged and turned to look out over the dusty landscape again.

  “And it would be a shame if you grew so sore you couldn’t make it to Darnuir or, worse still, make a mistake in melding to him and one of his soldiers crushes you like a bug.”

  “I won’t allow my melding to fail. This is too important.”

  “I want you to come back y’know,” Zax said.

  Sonrid croaked a laugh. “I’m touched.”

  Zax fidgeted with his hands. “Been nice having you around, is all. Rather not have to go back to sitting around all day by myself.”

  Sonrid smiled. “I’ll come back. Maybe on our next world, if there is one, we’ll have a better time of it.”

  “Can’t get much worse,” Zax said. He glanced towards the horizon. “Shadows take me, I think that might be them.”

  Sonrid scrambled to his crooked feet, groaning at the terrible stiffness. Zax had been right, damn him. He’d also been correct about the approaching army. Unless Sonrid’s eyes deceived him, those blots against the sky were fairies and below were ranks of dragons and humans.

  “I’ll wait until they have stopped,” Sonrid said. “A camp will grant more shadows. Guard this entrance as best you can.”

  Zax struggled to his feet as well, stepping closer to the ledge. “I’ll round up some more demons. Not sure what good they’ll do but it’s better than me guarding alone.” He placed his one good arm on Sonrid’s back. “Take care out there.” He left, and the demons scampered after him.

  Sonrid watched the armies of the Three Races trudge towards Kar’drun, trying to rally his protesting body for the efforts to come. This would be it. The end of the Master or the end of all else.

  Darnuir – The King’s Pavilion

  Darnuir, Blaine, Fidelm, Lira and Raymond, stood in council before the forward command tent.

  Kar’drun rose beyond sight, swallowed by dark clouds. The ground under foot was dry, cracked and mud-red; a lifeless, barren land. For Darnuir it was lifeless in more ways than one. The Cascade was weak here, or at least it was weak this far from the mountain. It reminded him of events at the Bastion, when the Cascade had vanished, sucked into a great pool of energy by Castallan. As Rectar must surely have need of the Cascade, Darnuir assumed the same had occurred here.

  Tapping into the well of power would mean getting as close to Kar’drun as possible, a feat easier to theorise than achieve.

  “I only know of one entrance,” said Blaine, pointing vaguely to the base of Kar’drun. “The Black Dragons constructed their gates to be invisible to the naked eye. Some even say it wasn’t the Black Dragons who made it, but some ancient race of sentient stone.” Blaine’s tone implied he thought this unlikely. “Whatever the truth, I doubt we shall see the entry point until Rectar sends his army forth.”

  Fidelm’s wings buzzed in anticipation. “And when exactly will that be? What is Rectar waiting for?”

  “Perhaps he knows of Arkus’ anger and hopes we’ll turn on each other first,” Lira said.

  Darnuir sighed and kicked at the ground. “You say that lightly, but—” he bit his lip, the thought of it unbearable. “If Rectar will not make the first move then we shall. The reds are terribly strong but if we close the distance between us and the mountain, there will be less space for them to move in. With their backs to the mountainside, they’ll be at a disadvantage.”

  “So, we’ll box them in and shoot them,” Raymond said. He shrugged with a half-smile. “As good a plan as any.”

  “I feared marching north before,” Darnuir said. “Meeting such an enemy in the open field seemed suicidal. It
still might be, but Arkus’ new weapons have done more to tip the balance than months of training in new formations ever could.”

  “Whatever happens out here, this battle will be decided by your duel,” Blaine said. “All we can achieve in fighting the reds is allowing you to enter the mountain.”

  Lira ran her hands through her hair. “The entrance will be the most heavily guarded section. We’ll have to utterly defeat the red dragons in order to break in.”

  “And we don’t even know what lies beyond,” Darnuir said.

  A cloud passed overhead, casting a much welcome shade over their small company.

  Darnuir’s heightened senses suddenly twinged – a sense he hadn’t known he had. The feeling of being watched made tangible, and as real as smell or sight or sound. Something had moved unseen, heading behind him into the pavilion proper.

  Darnuir looked to his feet and followed the line of the shadow to the flapping entrance of the tent.

  “Excuse me for one moment,” he said.

  Fidelm was striking up further points as Darnuir entered the pavilion. Inside was the usual grand war table, strewn with old maps of the area and of the Forsaken City to the east, as well as wooden figurines, stacks of notes, half-eaten rations. There was no one else in the tent, at least not in their full form.

  “Dukoona?” Darnuir said quietly.

  There came a crash. The table shook and plates fell off the far side with a clatter. A groan followed. Darnuir drew one sword and stepped lightly around to see who was there.

  “Oh, why hello there, Sonrid.”

  Dukoona – In the Depths of Kar’drun

  Rectar floated in the air before him, in his crimson-cloaked form. “They have come.” He sounded happy, playful even.

  Dukoona blinked, straining to look up. His neck had been hunched over for so long it didn’t care for movement.

  “About time,” Dukoona said.

  “Fear may have kept them at bay. Yet they have a great power in their midst. Darnuir now wields two Blades. I can feel him like a hot sun in the cosmos. It’s a surprise they did not do this sooner; then again, the Guardian was always stubborn. My host’s memories tell that much.”

  Was that a touch of nerves in Rectar’s voice? Anything that gave Him pause was a good thing.

  “Does that concern you, Master? Would you prefer I go outside and check for you while you rot down here like you’ve alwa—”

  And then came the pain. Dukoona screamed, as loudly as he possibly could. He’d found that screaming helped, channelling his focus into something else.

  “I have been patient,” Rectar said. “Time has never been a concern for me. Even after Darnuir falls today, I may wait another century if I must, millennia if needed. My army, my true army, must be perfected first before I assault the Others with their own creations.” He vanished, then Dukoona felt a soft breath on his ear. “Pray it does not take me that long. For as long as we remain on this world, you and your people will suffer every day.”

  “Let them go,” Dukoona said. He’d asked so many times, asking again would do no harm. “Let my people go. It was all my scheming. All my decisions. Punish me for eternity if you must but let them leave. Have I not earned at least one favour for sending you so many dragons over the years?”

  His Master reappeared before him, so close that the blond hair tickled his nose. Dukoona’s head was roughly grabbed and bent backwards, forcing him to meet Rectar’s molten eyes.

  “I think the time to put you to use has come. I shall grant you one last chance at favour. I shall let your people go, if you do something for me.”

  “Name it.”

  Rectar smiled. “Should Darnuir enter the mountain, he may come for you, thinking you’re his ally. I’d like you to keep up this pretence. Then kill him.”

  “How can I possibly do that if he has two Blades?”

  “Surprise him,” Rectar said, as though it were obvious.

  Dukoona pondered, then felt revolted that he’d even considered it for a moment. But his will had been grated away by punishment. He wanted it to end. If there was any chance to save his people, he’d have to take it. And two Blades or no, Darnuir’s chances of success were not guaranteed.

  “How can I be sure you’ll keep your word?” Dukoona asked.

  “I shall make this oath under the bond of Master and servant,” said Rectar. He placed a pale hand on Dukoona’s fiery head. “Such bonds cannot be broken. Kill Darnuir and I shall release your people from my service.”

  Dukoona gasped as Rectar worked some magic and the oath that he’d sworn manifested in his mind; solid and immovable. Dukoona had never been more certain about anything. If he fulfilled this task, then Rectar would do as he promised. It could not be broken.

  Rectar shook him. “Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Very well.” He waved his hand and a deafening roar from unseen red dragons filled the dark cavern. “It shall begin.”

  He vanished.

  If spectres could weep, Dukoona might have done so. He felt dishonourable, unclean, unworthy. He wouldn’t have agreed to such a thing months ago before all this pain had chipped away at his resolve.

  Dukoona hung his head. “What have I done?”

  Chapter 35

  THE LAST BATTLE: PART 1

  “The Gods are on the side of the mighty.”

  — Dragon Proverb

  Darnuir – The Front Lines

  THE RED DRAGONS advanced, slower than they had at Aurisha, letting their mighty feet and tails send quakes through the earth. All legions and companies were ready and in position. Darnuir, however, was off to one side by the artillery.

  “Comfortable, Sonrid?”

  “No worse than usual,” Sonrid said. He was on Darnuir’s back, his arms and legs half merged into the slivers of shadows under plates of his armour. Darnuir noticed the aghast stares he got from nearby soldiers for having a demon on his back, but while he twirled two Blades in his hands, no one openly objected.

  “Adolphus,” Darnuir called, looking for the General.

  “Lord?” Adolphus said, turning away from his terrified officers.

  “I’d like you to concentrate all your cannon fire down this line,” Darnuir said, pointing to what he hoped was a clear path to where Sonrid’s secret entrance lay.

  Adolphus coughed. “May I enquire as to why?”

  “I need to reach the mountainside quickly and with as little resistance as possible. I’ll send a pillar of flames as a signal when you can cease firing and shift your focus back to the battle at large.”

  If Adolphus was surprised at these commands, he did not show it. “Won’t we be risking your life through friendly fire?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on clearing me a path and await my signal.”

  “It shall be done.” Adolphus bristled his great moustache once, clapped his hands together, then strode off barking orders with a great energy. The cannon crews began adjusting their positions.

  “You’re certain you can make this climb?” Sonrid asked.

  Darnuir twisted his head so that Sonrid was on the edge of his vision. “Sonrid, a climb will be the least of our worries. I’m more concerned about what happens once I’m inside.”

  “Good. Good. I would hate for my efforts to be wasted.”

  Darnuir laughed, probably too loudly, drawing yet more stares from the humans.

  “Alright. Let’s go free Dukoona and kill a God.”

  He opened the doors in his mind, though sadly only a trickle of Cascade came through. The closer he got to Rectar’s well of energy the more he’d be able to draw upon. Thankfully for now, energy spent on movement was cheap, or else he’d be in real trouble.

  “Fire at will, Adolphus.”

  And then he ran.

  Charging th
e red dragon line reminded him very much of charging the demon line at the Charred Vale. He’d run fast then. He ran faster now. Even in full armour, he tore across the plains of Kar’drun. At the Charred Vale he’d also leapt into the demon ranks, so he’d do that again too. He fed what magic he could gather into his legs, propelling him on.

  Ahead, lead shot hammered into the enemy, spraying up earth, as though giant moles were bursting from the ground.

  As the second round of artillery boomed, Darnuir leapt. Sonrid wailed as they flew, clearly thinking that Darnuir had overestimated his own power. He hit the earth with as much force as any cannonball, knocking aside nearby reds and cutting down stragglers. He sucked in a breath and felt for more magic – it was still only a trickle – and ran on with what reserves he had.

  The bombardment began to have effect as the red dragons moved aside to avoid it.

  Bolder ones didn’t. They tried to step in his way.

  Darnuir swiped left to right with both Blades, spinning around in full turns to cleave most of them from his path. Those he couldn’t reach he side-stepped, determined not to get bogged down in any fighting. To slow down for a second could mean a cannonball in the back.

  More shot hummed through the air, but he could sense their approach, letting him pivot and dive aside as needed. Sonrid screamed with each narrow miss but Darnuir pounded on, legs pumping like a drummer’s sticks.

  It got easier as he approached the mountain. More magic trickled in the closer he got, until he found a slow but steady current, pushing him onto greater heights.

  Before long he was at the sheer black rock face. Learning from the red dragons’ assault on the walls of Aurisha, he jumped and dug both Blades deep into the rock to brace himself. He made the climb this way, cutting his way up one strike at a time.

  Cascade energy flowed easier now. The kick came unexpectedly, and in that moment of joy he almost missed his next cut with the Dragon’s Blade. Arm still flailing, a cannonball hit perilously close overhead, blowing a chunk from the mountain. Chips of rock fell against his eyes, and the impact knocked the Dragon’s Blade from his hand.