Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon)

by Appleton, Scott

  “Yes, I will not be dissuaded. And thank you for letting Seivar stay among you during my absence. That bird has been a faithful companion, but I was instructed to do this alone.”

  “Would you favor me by again reciting the final portion of that letter?”

  “Certainly, to the best of my ability. The letter ended with ‘Come alone to the Tomb of the Ancients in the Megatrath realm, one day hence. I will await you on the other side of the portal (your doorway to an ancient realm). When we meet, your dragon ring will prove that I am the one the great albino dragon has sent. Together, we must find the Key of Living Fire and give it to the prophet for safekeeping.’ ”

  The Megatrath lazily zinged her claws along the wall, the sparks flaring in her eye. “You are long overdue for that appointment. Surely the prophet’s agent, this Starfire person, is long gone by now.”

  “The delay could not be helped.” Ilfedo fingered the baby-soft pommel of his sword. “Nor could the loss of the dragon ring. I am hoping that this sword will lead me to Starfire; otherwise I must find the key on my own.”

  “I still think your trip into the tomb will be fruitless; nevertheless, we have arrived.” The Megatrath knelt, and he knelt beside her as a silver disk rose out of an abyss before them. Both of them lowered their heads, and the stone beneath them glowed pink to form a beautiful rose. “Thank you for keeping your head bowed, Lord Ilfedo,” the Megatrath rumbled. “Your daughter did not keep her eyes lowered—such was the curiosity of her youth—and I feared the ancient spirit would not grant her access.”

  “It is out of respect for your custom and not for this ‘spirit’ that I kneel.”

  “We bow to honor the dead,” the Megatrath continued. “It is good to reverence those who have passed before us into death.”

  Stones grated together, and something slammed behind them. He dared a peek behind. Across the tunnel through which they’d come, a rusted steel door now stood. Beside him the Megatrath stood, and he followed her lead. The silver disc faded until it was no longer visible. On an invisible bridge, Vectra led him over the abyss toward the opposing cavern wall. As he followed, he felt that the glass-like bridge sped him on his way, literally increasing the length of this stride. When he stepped onto the opposite side of the abyss, he walked on a white path that led down to twin doors of glistening steel. Flanking the doors and the path were two pillars that glowed.

  Vectra growled and threw her tremendous bulk against the doors. The doors screeched on their hinges and lazily opened into the cavern wall. Beyond them lay the endless corridor Oganna had told him about. Yet he gaped in astonishment. It was far grander than he had envisioned. Innumerable crystals, placed along the ceiling and the floor, gleamed with unearthly light. Wood beams sagged across the ceiling, crisscrossing high above him. Here and there, gold adornments glinted back at him as he stepped inside. It did rival the splendor of a palace.

  He ignored the urge to explore the many arched doorways, the tombs. Somewhere in this place, somehow, he could access the Hidden Realm. He turned and faced the tall, strong creature.

  “As I told you,” Vectra rumbled, “there is nothing in here besides those who have been long dead.”

  Drawing his sword, he closed his eyes and smiled. Something magnetic drew him down the endless corridor. The sword’s flames, rather than spraying off him in all directions, curved toward the corridor’s heart. “Farewell for this time, Vectra! I will return as soon as this matter is resolved.”

  She started to answer, but her mouth hung open, and her eyes stared over his head down the corridor. He turned, facing a wall of swirling flames. He held the sword before his face, then raised it above his head. The swirling wall gulped in the tongues of fire growing out of his armor and blade. Around him the magnificent Tomb of the Ancients came alive. The walls marched beside him, the floor rolled beneath him, and the fire pulled him down a tunnel of wind, of flames, and swirling blue light. He tried to glance over his shoulder, but the vortex jerked his face back into its long throat.

  At last the vortex ceased. The flames abated. Dimly illuminated around him was a stone wall at least thirty feet high. The wall opened only in one place. He walked through the gap, rounded another wall, and stopped short.

  27

  THE HIDDEN REALM AT LAST

  Far above Ilfedo’s head fizzed a multitude of various colored portals. Their swirling pools of energy flashed, then faded; flashed, then faded. While some pools swirled intense red, others were blue. It reminded him of mixing different colored paints.

  He backtracked to his own portal, but it had vanished. The portal was gone, but the wall of stone was pierced by a tunnel high and wide with a ceiling of crystals. No, this was no tunnel. It was the end of the Tomb of the Ancients. The portal must have sped him down the incredible length of the tomb, which meant that, if one walked deep enough into the tomb, one would enter this realm.

  Turning on his heel, Ilfedo marched out of the opening in the stone wall and crossed his arms. Before him lay a plane of stone and dirt lit by the portals above. He marched up a broad highway and marveled at the smooth stone pyramids rising on either side of him. They rose several hundred feet, and smaller pyramids surrounded them. The highway passed through a triangular opening at the base of a pyramid ahead of him. As he stepped inside, the interior opened before him, as if the entire pyramid were hollow. He gasped and stared at the juncture of the four walls; the peak of the pyramid was dauntingly high.

  “Hello?” It was the soft voice of a woman.

  He glanced at the highway before him. It ran to the center of the pyramid, then turned right. A lone figure stood at the juncture with a tall walking stick in her hand.

  He approached her and smiled. She was blond with blue eyes, and almost as tall as he. Her leggings and blouse were reinforced with metal bands and leather. “Hello there.” He sheathed his sword, and her eyes riveted on it as the flames receded from his body. He bowed. “You must be Starfire. I am Ilfedo. The albino sent me.”

  “Umm, yes.”

  He shook his head and laughed. At last he had found her. “I am sorry it has taken me so long to reach this place. I must confess to being relieved. Your note was specific about when I should meet you, and I was afraid you might have gone after the key on your own.”

  She shook her head, too, and smiled. She was rather young, around Oganna’s age. “I could not reach the key without your help, Warrior,” she said. “So I have waited. But now that you are here, we can be on our way. The enemy of the prophets sent someone this way, too, and we must reach the key first.”

  “Do you know which way will bring us to the key?” He glanced around the interior of the pyramid. “This place is incredible.”

  She looked up and quietly said, “Yes, I had not noticed before. But it is incredible.”

  For a long moment he waited for her to answer his question, but she seemed to have forgotten it. She stared upward, a childlike fascination in her eyes.

  He admired the deep purple staff she carried. It looked strong enough to swing against stone, and its length tapered to a point. If she hadn’t been holding it, he would have assumed this was the end of the staff and not its head.

  She noticed him staring and walked down the highway toward the exit. They walked through the triangular opening and emerged amid the smaller pyramids. “From what I can tell”—she pointed into the distance—“we need to be on the other side of that wall. There is nothing on this side of the wall. I’ve explored everything in reach.”

  Behind several pyramids rose a wall unlike anything he had ever seen. A string of fat pillars rose a hundred feet, supporting a bridge of stone. Checkered arches linked the pillars to one another, and beneath each arch swirled a different colored portal. Beneath the pulsating portals, a fence cut off this part of the Hidden Realm. They walked over the plain of stone toward the pillar wall, but an invisible force stung their faces and threw them back onto the highway.

  Getting to his feet, Ilfedo explor
ed the pillars with his newfound companion keeping close to his side. “I have tried everything I could think of to get to that wall, but it is impossible,” the girl said.

  He smiled down at her. “You haven’t told me your name yet. Surely Starfire is merely a title.”

  “Oh, you want to know?” She wiped a tear from her eye, but she did it so quickly that he thought his eyes might have deceived him.

  He folded his arms across his chest and winked, as he would have done to his daughter. “I could just call you Miss X. Would you prefer that?”

  “My name is Escentra, though I used to have another name.”

  “What was your other name?”

  She frowned and squinted as if it was difficult to answer him. “I cannot remember.”

  “You can’t remember your own name?”

  “Please, can we move on?” She dabbed at her eye. “I am not used to so many questions, and I would prefer to keep moving. This mission must be carried out.”

  He apologized and retraced his steps. She followed as he marched up to the first pillars he’d encountered. He felt sure that these structures, so enormous and strong, were hiding something. Stepping off the highway, he kept close to the pyramid’s base and walked around it. All four of its walls were smooth—too smooth to climb. So he walked to the next and circled it. On the back side, out of sight from the highway, square stones had been used to construct the wall. He pulled himself onto the first level of stones and reached down, helping Escentra climb.

  “We can climb to the top.” He pointed at the pyramid’s pinnacle. “From there we should have a clear view of the surrounding area, and maybe we can find a way to either get to or even past that wall.”

  They ascended the pyramid and stood at its apex. Escentra gazed upon the pyramids below them, but Ilfedo glued his gaze to the distant wall. Over the wall he glimpsed other portals, strewn throughout a ruined human city. He marveled that so much lay buried underground. While he and his people lived on the bright surface, entire cities were miles beneath their feet.

  Escentra turned to look at the pyramids behind her, but her foot caught on something and she crumpled to the stones. He grabbed her by the ankle and waited until she struggled to her knees. “You just saved my life.” She sounded surprised.

  “Do you think I would have let you fall to your death?” He frowned down at her. “You wouldn’t let that happen to me, and I will not let that happen to you. We are in this together.”

  Ilfedo knelt in front of her and touched her ankle. An angry red line grazed her skin. He looked at the pinnacle stone on the pyramid and ran his hand around its base. The first corners were smooth, but a metal string, tightly secured, stretched toward the pinnacle of the largest pyramid. Could it be that the pyramids were connected by this?

  He wrapped his arms around the string, then put his knees over it. Upside down he pulled himself along the string until he rested a third of the way to the other pyramid. Far below the highway promised a quick death should he fall. He dared not look for Escentra as he moved along the string. At last he lowered his feet onto the pinnacle of the largest pyramid. His feet slipped on the steep smooth stones, but he regained his balance and held on to the pinnacle stone.

  “Escentra.” His words echoed across the chasm between them. “It is safe. Wrap your body around it and work your way to me.”

  She did as he said, though it took her longer to reach the other side. When she did, he helped her grab hold of the pyramid’s pinnacle. They lay against the smooth pyramid, and she gaped at the vast distance to the ground.

  But Ilfedo ran his hand along the other side of the pinnacle stone, and finding another string, he smiled. This one angled down toward the wall. He wrapped his arms around it and lowered himself over the invisible barrier that had thrown them back to the highway. The blade-thin barrier became visible as he passed over it. It stretched as far as he could see in both directions, from one cluster of portals to another.

  He reached the ground and stood, looking at the barrier. It was made of stone and glass. Glancing up, he found Escentra already halfway down the string. She put her staff over the string, held onto it with both hands, and streaked to the ground, rolling beside him. When she stood, a black sphere stood atop her staff. It radiated a wave of darkness that clouded his vision, and cold whispers sounded in his mind.

  He drew the sword of the dragon, and the girl’s blue eyes widened. She swung her staff at his head, but he grasped it in his fist, held it back. “Sorceress! Deceiver!” He spat the words, hoping they could reach through her darkness and pull her young heart out of her lies.

  In Ilfedo’s hand the sword blazed as the armor of light and Living Fire covered his body. Escentra screamed and kicked his knee. He stumbled, then grasped her blouse and spun her toward him. He stood behind her, poising the sword across her throat and pulling her back against his chest.

  She struggled against him and screamed, the sound echoing off the wall in front of them. Ilfedo pushed her to her knees and yanked the wizard staff from her hands. As he touched his sword’s blade to the staff, his muscles ached as if he swam in ice water. But he walked around the girl and stared down into her eyes. He felt such sorrow, such deep, deep pity for her. She was a tool of evil, a soul off of which it could leech.

  “How did you come to this, young lady?” He felt as if he were admonishing a daughter. “Do you realize what you are becoming? You will be a plague upon any and all that fear God. Your name will be feared by mothers and children, and you will be hated by all honorable men. And all who seek justice will seek your head for your crimes.” His fury poured into his countenance, and she quailed before him.

  “You do not understand! I serve the wizard. I do as he has taught me. If I do anything else, he will kill my mother—and she is all . . .” Tears streamed from the girl’s eyes. “She is all I have left.”

  The wizard staff trembled in his hand. “To save your mother you would kill mothers. To preserve your family you will destroy others. You are a fool!”

  “I am not a fool!” She snapped her hand toward the staff and pulled it from his grasp. Ducking under his sword, she raced toward the wall.

  He raced after her and screamed, “Escentra, do not let this sorcery consume you. Come back! Be freed of this bondage.”

  But she sprinted toward the wall. Below each portal along the stone structure, a fence of spears and blades rose out of the ground. The girl stabbed her staff into the ground ahead of her and vaulted the obstructions. She landed on the other side and raced down a street between the ruins of ancient buildings.

  He stood on his side of the wall, seething. He had been deceived, and now the wizard’s agent was winning the race to the key—because of him.

  Taking his anger and feeding it into his sword, he unleashed a torrent of flames against the wall of spears and blades, for they were too thick for him to pass through. But the sword’s flames ricocheted off the wall, and the Living Fire died, the flames receding into the sword’s hilt. His armor vanished, and though he closed his eyes to concentrate, the sword’s power was gone.

  “No! This will not happen.” Ilfedo raised his sword and struck at the spears, hoping to break their shafts, but his blade bounced off them.

  For a long while he tried to cut them down, but to no avail. When his arms wearied of the struggle, he sheathed his sword and sat on the ground. Beyond the forest of spears lay a once-grand city. He could see the columns fallen on the ground, the gold strewn across its streets. Portals flashed open and others closed. The portals were everywhere. Some hovered above the ground, others lay upon it like puddles, and others covered the distant cavern walls. By now Escentra was halfway through the ruins.

  He imagined what would happen if he destroyed her staff. Could she be redeemed? He would raise her in his own house, if that would save her soul. She was so young, beautiful, and fearful.

  He stood and pushed his way between the spear shafts. But tiny blades along the shafts exacted the pay
ment for his passage in blood. He felt the blades open his skin. Warm blood ran down his arms, but he filled his mind with Oganna’s face, Dantress’s laughter, and the brutality of Razes. Today must not be an occasion that would allow evil to flourish.

  He had lost so much blood. He struggled just to place one foot in front of the other. The shafts’ blades cut his arms and his legs. His legs lost their strength, and he fell to the ground. But he grasped the shafts with his hands and tried to pull himself up. The blades sliced his palms and he screamed, but turned that energy into rage.

  Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he slashed at the nearest poles and, at last, cut through them. He swung again, hewing the spears at ground level and opening a path to the city. He took another step forward, and tiny flames sparked along his sword blade. Another few steps, and the Living Fire roared out of the blade, burning his body and then soothing it. His cuts healed, and his muscles filled with strength. He cried out for joy and hacked his way out of the spear-and-blade forest.

  When he emerged on the other side, he ran into the streets of the Hidden Realm. Escentra had probably slain Albino’s agent, so he would have to go after the key alone. “So be it.” He ran down the street, flaming sword upheld in his fists.

  “Escentra,” he said as he ran, “surrender, and I will free you of your demons.”

  After running for several huge city blocks, he slowed his pace. The buildings around him were huge, imposing. Yet he noticed for the first time that suits of armor lay in every corner and in every street. He stopped before a set of complete body armor and raised a shield off the ground. As the dust and dirt fell off the object, the figure of a white dragon spewing fire gleamed back at him. A flame pattern entwined the dragon’s legs. Black smoke had been painted to billow around the creature, as if it walked unscathed on a lake of burning oil.