Knocking the tip aside, he ripped it from the Dromoorai’s grasp. The hilt fit his palm perfectly, filling him with a sense of completion. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the power of the sword. With his eyes closed he swung it with all his might. It clanged against the Dromoorai’s metal helmet, passing through as if it were made of card.
He opened his eyes in time to see the blade slide through thick black iron leaving a thin red line of heat where it sliced. It eased through a red eye that flickered and went dark, through the nose-bridge and then cheek, the sound of metal scouring metal only just reaching him. The metal on the other side of the helmet bent outwards as his blade exited. Watery black blood spewed. The top of the Dromoorai’s head slid sideways and then fell, slamming to the floor. Its body toppled and the dismembered thing writhed and screamed furiously, the noise shaking the walls, and then it was dead.
Time sped up. The priests and priestesses fell back from him, looks of horror spreading on their bloodstained faces now illuminated by his light. They turned to run, like the true cowards they were, feeding on the weak and innocent. Their time was over. Asaph had to act fast, he could not let them get away; not with their crimes nor with the knowledge of what he was.
He called the Sun Fire within him and let it explode through the tip of his sword. Golden flames burst from it all around him, striking every priest and priestess, even those furthest away by the exit. The light consumed them and their screams were deafening. They did not so much burn as become engulfed in the golden light which turned their bodies to dust and winked them from existence.
Silence fell. The Sun Fire within him withdrew. The sword, which he realised had been throbbing the whole time, stilled. Calm descended. Justice had occurred. Prophecy had been fulfilled. The sword had found its master and was bound to him. He was complete. The Recollection receded and he felt a thousand dragons yawn and stretch before it closed fully.
Asaph rolled back his shoulders, lowered his sword, and realised he was naked. He glanced back at Leaper, the only one who would have seen it all. There was a look of awe and incredulity on the man’s face.
‘No one touches this sword but me,’ said Asaph, struggling to find the words to explain something he felt was very complicated.
Leaper nodded, gulped, closed and then reopened his mouth. ‘Anything you s-say. Uh, l-look, your c-cuts have h-healed,’ he stammered.
Asaph looked down. Sure enough, his foot, though covered in blood, was no longer bleeding and didn’t hurt. His bloodied chest, where the sword had pierced, was healed and painless. The Sun Fire, what was that? He tried to remember how he had called it but his mind was blank. He still couldn’t use magic in his human form. Perhaps it had been Feygriene.
People moaning caught his attention. Leaper’s face was pale and he held his head in his hands as if he were too weak to hold it up without the help. The others were listless, hunched. Not one of them dared to look his way even though the sacrificers were gone. Drugged and close to death, Asaph thought. He had to help them. Not knowing what else to do, he hunted around for some water.
Near one of the exit tunnels that led into darkness, there was a large pail of water along with rows of white priesthood robes hanging up. He stared at the robes. So they got changed down here to hide what they were doing. All of the priests and priestesses had been adults, yet the Order of the Goddess took in novices of all ages, even children. Not everyone could be part of the disgusting sacrificial rites, maybe only a select few corrupt people were.
He slipped on a white robe and picked up the pail, struggling under its weight with increasing fatigue. He set it down in front of Leaper’s cell. Metal sacrificial cups were strewn around the chamber, discarded in the fleeing priesthood’s terror. Grabbing one, he rinsed out the blood in disgust then tried the water. It tasted fine. Forcing himself to trust it, he downed a cup, then hunted around for some keys—there had to be some somewhere.
Kicking at the piles of ash on the floor, all that remained of a priest or priestess after his Sun Fire, his foot clanged against a ring of black keys. Grimacing, he picked them out of the ash, along with a sickle knife, and opened Leaper’s cell. Even after Asaph released his chains and bindings, the man couldn’t stand on his own so Asaph passed him cups of water. It was awful to see such a fighter in this pitiful state. Leaper gulped down the water then pushed the cup away.
‘Make sure everyone gets some,’ he said, leaning his head back, his voice stronger.
Asaph unlocked the other prison doors and helped the people, giving them white robes and cups of water. There were twenty people in all, men, women and children of all ages, and he had to get them out.
Even after water, only a young woman and middle-aged man were able to stand, but the others and all seven children were far too weak. They huddled against each other, trembling, too traumatised to speak. What if more sacrificers came? What if there were other sacrificial chambers beyond this one? Where were the harpies who had come with the Dromoorai, and when would the Dromoorai’s Dread Dragon return? It would have felt the death of its rider.
Asaph didn’t like any of these questions. He licked his lips nervously. From what he had seen outside, the temple guard were involved, or at least ordered to guard the temple against any outsiders. Whether they knew what was going on inside was another matter.
He turned to the man and woman who were able to stand. The woman’s face was bruised and she had trouble meeting his eyes as she clutched at the neck of her robe. The man leant against the wall rubbing his eyes.
‘Collect all the sickle knives and any weapons you can find, give them out to everyone.’ Hopefully a task would keep their minds busy. ‘Leaper, take the Dromoorai’s sword. I’ll go scout the place to find a way out. I won’t go far but do what you can to protect yourselves should you need to.’
Grabbing one of the red lanterns, Asaph turned away and walked towards a tunnel that led to a solid wall. It must be a hidden door like the one the priestess had opened on the outside of the temple, but without magic, he couldn’t open it. He turned and went back.
Beyond the chamber where the robes had been hanging up, another tunnel stretched into the darkness. He made his way slowly along it using the light of the red lantern that glistened off the slick walls. It led a long way. There might have been other magical doors, but if there were, he couldn’t tell. From the length of this tunnel, he assumed there certainly would be.
As he walked, he decided he must have left the grounds of the temple by now. There would certainly be secret passageways into the temple itself, wouldn’t there? Surely walking blindly along a tunnel created by the enemy was stupid. He slowed, wondering what to do. He didn’t want to leave the others on their own. Although he was weak from hunger, he was the only one still able to put up a fight.
It was with some surprise that he came to a door on his left. It was simple, made of old planks roughly nailed together, like the door of a farmer’s shed, with a plain iron handle and a wooden bolt across it. It certainly wasn’t strong enough to keep prisoners inside.
He held his ear against it. There was no sound. Tucking his sword inside his robe, he pulled up his hood to cover his face and knocked, his heart pounding in his chest. Nothing happened. He knocked again. Nothing. Carefully, he lifted the bolt and turned the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Either it was very stiff or locked on the other side.
After a few seconds pause for thought, Asaph took a step back then threw his shoulder against it. The old door groaned and splintered under his weight. He fell through it into a room lit by a shard of light falling from the ceiling high above. Coughing in the dust he looked up at the eddies swirling in the light. Desperate for some form of normality, Asaph imagined it to be the light of day. Somewhere up there was a world lit by the sun.
Groaning and the sound of rattling chains came from somewhere out of his sight. Asaph froze, peering into the gloom. Slowly, he held the lantern up into the darkness and gasped. The room he wa
s in was square and not that big. One wall was empty, but chained around the others were nine naked men. Their arms were tied above their heads to the wall and their feet to the floor. They hung limply on their chains, their heads flopping forwards through their arms. They were anything from twenty to fifty years old, fit, and of fighting age.
Two made slight groaning noises, but the rest were silent. For a horrible moment, Asaph’s eyes rested on a man who looked completely grey. He went closer, lifting the lantern up. The man had a chiselled jaw and straight nose and would have been handsome under other circumstances.
Tentatively, Asaph lifted the man’s deathly cold chin. His eye sockets were empty holes covered in gouges and dried blood. With a horrified yelp, Asaph dropped the man’s chin. Mercifully, he was dead.
He looked around, glad to note that the others weren’t grey—bruised and bloodied, yes, but not dead. Not yet. All had a raw, swollen mark branded on their chests. Three mountains; the mark of Maphrax. They were drugged and weak, just like he had been. He saw something on the floor and reached down to pick up a long, slick, brown feather—too big to belong to any bird. Harpies! He dropped it in disgust.
‘Wake up!’ Asaph commanded.
Two of the men groaned and lifted their heads. He ran to the first and struck his sword upon the chains. Sparks illuminated the chamber as the manacles splintered. Asaph caught the man as he fell and helped him to the floor where he lay moaning. He struck the chains from his feet then went to help the other man.
The second man had more life and blinked up at Asaph as he lay him down. Perhaps he was newer here. His head was shaved—all the men’s heads were—and though he was bruised, his toned body was clean and there was a subtle scent on him. Prepared for harpies, Asaph grimaced.
‘What’s going on here?’ Asaph asked, cradling the man’s head. His eyes were glazed and he struggled to focus.
‘Harpies,’ the man said. ‘They’ve drained our blood to give to the Maphraxies and make us weak. With their magic, they’ve raped our seed.’
Asaph felt sick, made worse in his famished state.
‘What’s your name?’ asked Asaph.
‘Danny.’
Hearing human voices, two more men stirred. They tried to lift their lolling heads as Asaph rose and sliced his sword through their chains in another shower of sparks, again amazed that no metal could withstand the blade of the Sword of Binding. By the time he had helped them to the floor, the first two men were on their knees and trying to stand.
‘How do we get out?’ asked Asaph.
Danny shook his head. ‘I woke up here, I don’t remember how I got here. In the beginning, I saw dark dwarves. I think they made the tunnels. The harpies use magic to make us forget who we are. When they return, they use magic to open the wall. I think they come from somewhere else outside of Frayon, but I don’t know for sure.’
‘Come, I can take you to clean water,’ said Asaph. ‘There are others here who were to be sacrificed; women and children too. I was amongst them but got free and killed all the priests and priestesses. When others find out, we’ll all be killed. The temple guard are patrolling everywhere above ground, but we have a chance to escape in daylight. Are there any more rooms like this, with people trapped?’
‘I don’t know.’ Danny shook his head. ‘But the harpies will return when the light fades. Two will die this very night when they have finished with them. They always leave one of the dead chained here to remind us who owns us. In the end, we will all die.’
Asaph had no idea how much daylight was left so they had to get out now. He stood and cut the chains of the dead man, laying his body down respectfully.
‘Why did they do that to his eyes?’ Asaph asked, flinching back from the man’s bloody, sunken lids.
‘When they can’t give them their seed, the harpies take their eyes,’ said Danny, closing his own and swallowing.
‘It’s frenzied, the worst thing I have ever seen,’ said the other man in a cracked voice. ‘But it doesn’t happen very often, this inability to perform. Harpy magic is powerful.’
Asaph took a deep breath. How many men had been sacrificed here when they could be fighting alongside the Feylint Halanoi? No wonder the army was dwindling.
‘Let’s go back to the others,’ he said, breathing hard against his rage. ‘We’re safer in numbers. Help me carry them. We’ll have to return for those who can’t walk.’ He indicated to the other two men who were getting to their knees.
‘I’m Asaph,’ he introduced himself.
‘Jekk,’ said the second man, taking Asaph’s hand as he helped him to his feet.
Jekk and Danny moved to the others. One of the men was well over six feet tall and covered in muscle, so Asaph helped Danny lift him, dragging an arm each over their shoulders. Jekk helped the smaller man but all of them struggled.
‘Go right,’ Asaph instructed as Jekk paused to peer outside the door. He passed him their only lantern.
A low humming noise began.
‘Oh no, the wall!’ Danny wailed. ‘Harpies are returning.’
Asaph glanced behind them. On the wall about waist height, an apple-sized ball of white and black light swirled and rapidly grew.
‘Let’s go,’ Asaph growled and hurried forwards. ‘Take him if you can. I’ll try to get another.’ He let Danny take the big man who was becoming more responsive and trying to take his own weight.
‘Go!’ he yelled when Danny paused. The man staggered after Jekk.
Asaph bent to help another man. He was lifeless and Asaph struggled to pull his arm over his shoulder. The ball of light grew brighter and now the whole wall was swirling. He dragged the man to the door and staggered. He tried again and almost fell. Cursing he let the man down. He was too weak to carry a dead weight and save himself.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, feeling sick with hopelessness. He had to leave him.
Asaph stepped out of the door, raised his sword and struck at the doorframe. Sparks flew as stone cracked. He fell back as the doorway and part of the roof collapsed, blocking the exit into the tunnel. It would buy them time, nothing more. He hurried after the others and helped Danny with the big man, glancing back all the way.
‘Leaper, it’s me. There’s trouble coming,’ Asaph shouted ahead before they reached the sacrificial chamber.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Leaper, setting the Dromoorai sword down to help the men. He gave them water and robes as Asaph spoke.
‘A tunnel that goes on and on,’ Asaph sighed and slumped against the wall, leaning his back against it. ‘There is no way out apart from that tunnel, wherever it leads. Harpies will be here soon.’
‘Great,’ sighed Leaper stroking back his hair.
Asaph looked at them all and almost laughed. There were at least eight fit fighting men here armed with knives and swords and all of them were weak as kittens. Screeching echoed from a distance. Asaph pulled himself to his feet, cold determination steeling his nerves.
They put the children by the wall and the weak and old in front of them. The rest all brandished sickle knives, their faces a mix of fear and grim resolve. The screeching came closer. Asaph turned to face the tunnel, Leaper, Danny and Jekk clustered by his sides. They each had a wild, savage look in their eyes, along with a desperate need for vengeance.
Shouting sounded along the tunnel, men and women’s voices mixed with harpy cackles. More priests and priestesses? Asaph’s heart fell when he heard the sound of swords being drawn. The temple guards were here too.
Harpies burst into the chamber first. The bird women leapt onto the sacrificial altar, took a moment to survey the scene, then lunged at Asaph. He jumped to meet them, swinging his sword so fast the first harpy didn’t even see it as her head flew off. The second took his return arc, the tip slicing down through her shoulder, severing a wing. He took one more down before the guards, more harpies and red-robed priests and priestesses poured in.
Screaming, screeching, shouting and the clang of w
eapons echoed deafeningly around the chamber. Leaper plunged his huge claymore first through a harpy, then a guard. Jekk and Danny took down a priest and priestess and their howls of pain made the Order hesitate and fall back.
Pressure built in the air and a clap of thunder sent everyone to their knees, temple guards and priests as well. His senses scattered by harpy magic, Asaph failed to lift his sword in time as a harpy jumped on him. Her talons tore into his arms. The burning itch of poison filled his wounds and he felt his energy draining. The dragon blood in his veins fought the harpy infection, driving back the weakness.
With a roar, he stabbed his sword through the harpy’s chest and laughed as he heaved himself up with the harpy still writhing on his sword.
‘Stupid bird,’ he roared. ‘Harpy poison is useless against dragon-kind!’ He twisted and wrenched his sword free. The harpy fell, twitching.
Looking up at the number of harpies and guards filling the room, he realised the hopelessness of their situation. Well, he’d got this far and he wasn’t about to go down without a fight. He placed himself as best he could in front of the others, determined to protect every one of them until he fell.
A priest lunged for him with a short sword, Asaph feinted and slashed. The priest fell. Two harpies came in, chanting a spell. He ran at them fast before they could cast it, taking one down and badly wounding the other.
Beyond the din of the vicious battle, there came another deafening sound. Asaph was too busy hacking and stabbing to focus on it at first until the sound of rocks cracking and falling grew too loud to ignore. The chamber trembled. Both friend and foe stepped back and looked around, weapons still raised. Suddenly, the wall behind the children cracked and started to crumble. The adults grabbed the children away as the entire wall collapsed outwards.
A giant, ice-blue claw appeared through the rubble and scraped back the bricks and boulders. Everyone stared open-mouthed, too shocked to be afraid. Two talons appeared, scraping back more rubble, then blinding daylight spilled down onto them. Asaph shielded his eyes and blinked up into the enormous golden eyes of a dragon.
Dragons of the Dawn Bringer: The Goddess Prophecies Fantasy Series Book 5 Page 31