Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon)

by Appleton, Scott

  Something snapped behind him and he turned, just in time to jump out of the way as a green portal funneled past him. The portal lingered there as he hefted the shield over his back and walked farther into the city.

  For a long while he searched for Escentra, until the city structures turned into heaps of rubble. He stopped and studied the lay of the land. The structures in this area were in far worse shape than those in the city he had already passed through. Everything appeared to have been through a war, except for one structure built into the wall of the cavern.

  A white stone cathedral rose there, with pillars across its face and broad double doors. A stone patio fronted it, and a strange pedestal stood atop it, for the pedestal glowed with a blue shell of energy. And inside that shell hovered a gold skeleton key wreathed in flames.

  He had found it.

  Striding up the steps, he let the shield clatter to the patio as he touched the energy dome. Soft and warm, it caressed his hand with the undulating rise of its shield. It did not resist as he lowered his hand, fingers stretching toward the key. A dragon had been formed along its shaft, spewing the Living Fire from its mouth. It was magnificent.

  He drew the key out and held it forth, marveling that he had secured it. Then a purple staff flashed across his vision, and a delicate hand snatched the key from his fingers. Escentra vaulted the steps and landed amid the rubble and an empty suit of armor. She cackled as the Living Fire receded from his body and his sword, sucked toward and into the key.

  “It is all as my master declared it would be. I am sorry, Ilfedo, but this day power has passed to me.”

  He darted toward her, but she raced into the city and fled faster than he was able to follow.

  Climbing yet another hill, Specter again tried to close the distance between him and Auron. Since exiting the ice tunnel into an unknown land on the border of a cold lake, the traitor ran as if hellfire burned in his wake. He didn’t stop once, not even for food or sleep, though he did swim across a river and drank some water on the way.

  The starry sky seemed to watch in grim anticipation of the coming confrontation. But not long thereafter a tree of gargantuan proportions eclipsed half the sky. Specter raced into the clearing just as Auron’s ice armor flashed with harsh flames. He burned with the fervor of a torch, screaming all the while. Flames ripped across the ancient ruins as Auron walked up the steps and the portal flashed open, swallowing him.

  Specter jumped the remaining distance. In midair the portal caught him. His shoulders stiffened; something squeezed his head, then his shoulders, all the way to his feet. A current swept him through light and shadows in utter silence.

  28

  WHEN FOES MET

  When Specter emerged on the other side of the portal, his knees thumped on stone. He rolled, then got to his feet. Before him rose the city that had been hidden from the world—hidden by the prophets, according to legend.

  A cathedral of immense size stood down the highway before him. The rest of the city sprawled in crumbling ruin, yet the cathedral was magnificent. To his right he could see a wall of pillars far down the road. He stepped forward, and a young woman ran headlong into his chest. She fell, and a gold key flew out of her fingers.

  Specter caught it and smiled as the Living Fire tickled his hand. This must be the key . . . and this must be the witch, the same one of whom Albino had spoken. The key must not be allowed to fall into the hands of any wizard or witch, for then the sword of the dragon would lose its power.

  He sighted Auron stumbling toward the cathedral. The light of a thousand portals glinted off his ice armor as it melted off his body.

  Ilfedo glanced between the new arrivals, but when the hooded man held up the key, Ilfedo charged him. The man stepped out of his path and kicked him in the back. Ilfedo stumbled into a heap of rubble and turned, spraying flames out of his sword at the man.

  “Peace, Lord Ilfedo; we are brothers in this struggle.”

  “I don’t know you,” Ilfedo said.

  “Ah, but Oganna does. For it was I who slew the Grim Reaper on the ramp to Ar’lenon.”

  Ilfedo narrowed his eyes and pointed his blade at the man’s chest as he got to his feet. “Tell me whom you serve, for I have already been deceived by this witch, and I will not fall so easily again.”

  “I serve the great white dragon, the prophet whose blood ran through your wife’s veins and therefore her child’s. I am Specter and I have no quarrel with you, but do not stand between me and him.” Specter pointed to the other man who was now scaling the cathedral’s face. “Here, the key is yours.” He laid the key in Ilfedo’s hand and turned his back to him, then ran toward the cathedral.

  What appeared to be ice melted off the other man’s body. The man climbed the cathedral. Flames sprang from the darkness overhead as a thousand or more torches shed more light upon the ancient stone columns and ruined city. They were underground. No wonder this place was called the Hidden Realm. Above the spires of the magnificent cathedral a host of men and one black dragon hung as if suspended from the cavern’s dark ceiling. Veils covered the bodies of the men and the dragon.

  As the man climbed the cathedral he shouted, “Awaken, master of winged serpents! Awaken! Let thy sleep come to an end; let your army arise as you lead them in conquest.” Something groaned amid the mass of bodies, and Ilfedo froze as the veil fell off the black scaled dragon and its sharp tail slapped the cavern roof, raining stones on the pedestal where the key had been held.

  Escentra screamed, and her staff caught him in the midriff. He gasped, grabbed for his chest—and the key fell to the floor. As it landed, it flashed with light and vanished! But the pedestal atop the cathedral steps flashed too, and the key again floated in its shield.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” Escentra struck him on the shoulder, on the leg, her staff raining blows until he could not breathe.

  The sword of the dragon jolted his body with fire, and he parried her next attack, then kicked her in the stomach. As she rolled away from him, the sword spat fire in her wake.

  Bodies hung from the ceiling of the cavern in which the city lay. In the midst of those that slept, above Specter’s head, there hung a large scaled black beast. Auron held himself halfway up the building’s face and threw his broken staff toward the creature. Its orb shattered on the dragon’s snout, and Auron fell to the ground.

  A smile crept over Specter’s face as he stepped in a puddle of water and rendered himself invisible. With a growl, the black dragon Valorian dropped from the ceiling. But from the water Specter formed a hand of ice and a scythe to match. He vaulted a house stone and ran toward the cathedral, slowing his pace as he neared and twirling the scythe in his hands. Both of his enemies stood on their feet, unaware of his presence. It had been so long since that awful day. Valorian had been more than a match for him on the ancient field of battle. In those days age had hindered his speed. But now, over a thousand years later, Providence had restored Specter’s youth and bestowed on him these gifts to enhance his abilities. It was time to end this, time to bring the traitor and the perpetrator to a just end.

  Auron fell prostrate before Valorian, and the dragon shook its head as it rose. “What sort of trickery be this? Who art thou and how camest thee here?”

  “Mighty wizard, it is I, Auron. Over a thousand years have passed since the great battle wherein your master was slain. The world is a new place, but I have come to awaken thee to reap retribution on your enemies. And, if thou art willing, I place myself in thy service.”

  The dragon’s body rippled like an uncoiling snake. Its tail lashed dangerously close to Specter, smashing a stone. It gazed around the dark ruins, and its eyes glanced down the steps at Ilfedo and the witch. “If a new world has arisen, then where, pray tell, is my servant the Reaper?”

  “Slain, mighty one—”

  “What’s this? Slain by whom?” It scraped its claws along the stones.

  Rendering himself visible, Specter stepped up to face the dragon and the
traitor. “Slain by me, Valorian.”

  The creature growled, though a smiling sneer played across its oily face. “Then I welcome thee, Xavion. I welcome thee to thy final hour.” It roared, and the steps of the cathedral cracked. “The white dragon is not here to save thee from me.” Then its wings spread, eclipsing the citadel spires, even as its dark eyes glinted with life restored. “I am!” the creature roared. It seemed to claw the air, walking upon it. It plummeted to the earth. It speared into the stony ground, eagerly digging its way under the stones and into the soil. Its serpentine head buried in the soil; its muscle-ridden arms pulled it as a rodent into its hole.

  Dropping to his knees in front of the hole, the traitor cried out, “It is I that has awakened you, mighty wizard. I am humble before you, begging indeed for your favor.”

  The key still glowed atop the pedestal, but the pedestal vibrated as if shaken at its base. The stone floor rose and fell beneath Auron, yet the man maintained his kneeling position.

  Specter ran toward the pedestal even as the ground rose closer to it. Valorian was going for it. He was going to try to take the key—or maybe destroy it. Destroy it would be more likely. Specter grimaced and pushed his legs to speed. Valorian hated the key. He hated all that it had been, all of the prophet’s power that it represented.

  The dragon rose through the stones. A volcano of dirt rose around his head, and Specter saw glee in the dragon’s face as it reached its sharp claws for the key. But its claws glanced off the shield, and the creature growled. “The end, the end, the end for all is near,” the creature hissed. “It is I who comes to destroy you.” It reached yet again for the key.

  Specter ascended the steps, stumbled on an upturned stone, and then stood straight beside the pedestal. He sensed the dragon’s hesitation.

  “Xavion? Thou desirest to stop me. Ah, at last I can deal with your thorny head—”

  Specter chose to ignore the beast. He reached his real hand into the shield. His skin tickled upon contact, and he smiled. Grasping the key, he held it before him. The burning thing was so beautiful, deceptively small. It was the center of such conflict, horrible and far-reaching.

  Over the desolation, amid the ancient stonework and broken buildings, Ilfedo subdued the woman. She knelt before him, breaking her staff across her knees. Specter was reminded of a young man on another battlefield. Young Brian broke his white-bladed scimitar. Although, thinking back, it was not in defeat. It was an act of strength and pure intent. Perhaps this young woman’s evil could be stopped by this man of honor. Perhaps he would turn her from corruption to serve the Creator. The Living Fire burned upon Ilfedo’s blade, and he stood tall and strong, a warrior rivaling Specter himself. No, Specter told himself, Ilfedo is stronger than I.

  “Give thou the key to me, Xavion,” Valorian hissed.

  The dragon raked its claws forward, and Specter rolled to the side and stabbed his ice blade into the creature’s hand. The dragon roared and swatted him. Specter flew through the air, the wind knocked from his lungs. He held on to the key, all his focus bent on it as he landed in stones and dirt. As dust settled around him, he looked at the dragon. He had not the strength to rise and fight.

  The creature formed a cage around Auron with its claws. Black lightning shot from its hand, sizzling along Auron’s body. The traitor screamed with agony and twisted and thrashed against the claws, seeking escape from a destiny he had brought upon himself. Auron’s flesh burned, but the dragon smiled. “Rise anew, my Grim Reaper. From ashes only canst thou be born. Death, Death is now thy name!” Black smoke obscured the traitor from Specter’s eyes, but the dragon pulled away its mighty claws, and the Grim Reaper stepped out of the smoke to kneel before Valorian.

  No, this could not happen. Specter ran toward the pair. He would kill Auron. The man must not perpetuate the evil he had begun. “It is time to pay for your sins, Auron.”

  Auron faced him, but it was not the man Specter had known. He didn’t even look like the traitor. His face was a blackened skull, and his hands were skeletal. The traitor had become the accursed Reaper.

  As a tear formed in Specter’s eye, the traitor floated toward him and crossed his serrated scythe blade with Specter’s ice one.

  Valorian roared and leaped to the ceiling. “Awaken now, all my servants. The world shall fall under me. Awaken and serve me!” Dark energy sizzled from the dragon’s claws as it held itself upside down on the cavern ceiling. The energy dispersed to all the bodies suspended above Specter, and one by one, black-scale-clad warriors dropped to the ground and stood with swords in hand.

  “Ilfedo,” Specter shouted with all his might, “get out of this place! I will hold them off.”

  But Escentra had surrendered, and Ilfedo had spared her. Ordering her to wait for him, he advanced as the dragon’s army awoke, rising with swords and shields. Beyond the lines of scale-clad warriors he glimpsed the Grim Reaper. The evil being swung its scythe at the man who safeguarded the key. It drove back the brave but foolish man. It slashed across his forehead, drawing blood.

  The black dragon dropped from the ceiling, taking powerful steps toward the duelists.

  The scale-clad warriors flooded towards Ilfedo, and he met them alone. Thrusting at one man, he dropped him to the ground and stole his sword, stabbing it into another. Living Fire danced along the sword of the dragon’s blade, consuming those who drew near. He stood atop the bodies and threw himself into the horde, hacking and cutting his way until bodies padded the ground behind him.

  Someone smote him in the back of his leg, and he fell to his knee, turned, and thrust the man through. But the warriors did not heed the danger to themselves. They poured upon him, fearless and unrelenting.

  “You blind and vile men, do you think I will be stopped?” Ilfedo frowned and hefted his sword yet again. “I will prevail!” Side to side he wove, upswing, downswing. His sword slew all within his reach.

  The dragon’s horde flooded around Ilfedo. Those who did not fall to his sword marched into the city. Escentra screamed, and Ilfedo turned as several warriors drew their swords and veered out of the main army to face her. She picked through a suit of armor laid upon the ground and took a sword. She flailed at the men, but they parried her blows, and one of them smote her with his fist. As the fist landed on her head, her eyes closed and she slumped to the ground.

  “Ilfedo, get her out of here!” Specter stared at Ilfedo. The man was standing there, as if split between coming to Specter’s aid or helping the girl. “Fool, can you not see that we will all die here?”

  “I will not die,” Ilfedo shouted back. “But you will if I don’t help you.” He struck down another dragon-scale-covered warrior.

  Specter screamed his rage, and the anger fed him as he turned against Auron. “I am going to die today,” he said. “But so will you.” The admission of defeat left him strangely free. He pocketed the key as the specter of death approached.

  Auron swung his serrated blade, and Specter stepped into it. The blade stabbed his leg below the knee. The pain was great, but he chose to ignore it. He stabbed his ice blade into Auron’s side, released his hold on the weapon, and grabbed the traitor’s neck with his ice hand. He formed the ice around Auron’s skeletal head, and the Reaper’s mouth opened in a silent scream as it dropped the serrated scythe.

  Specter’s leg, now bleeding, collapsed under him. He pulled Auron to the ground with him. He had left himself open, and the traitor had fallen into his trap. The ice held the Reaper’s head, though its hands clawed Specter’s back. Specter reached his free hand under the traitor’s tattered cloak and pulled the skeleton arm away from the body, tossing it across the stone landing.

  Auron’s remaining hand somehow slipped the key out of Specter’s pocket, but Specter kicked it away. The key flashed with fire, then reappeared under the energy dome atop the pedestal.

  Specter glanced at the Reaper’s face. Beneath the ice covering, the face of Auron reformed. The look on his face was one of terror and pain bey
ond endurance. The man’s eyes froze open, and the body turned to dust in Specter’s hands. Auron the traitor was dead.

  At that moment something soothing touched Specter’s leg. He glanced at it only to find Ilfedo leaning over him with the sword of the dragon in his hand. The man’s body blazed with Living Fire, and his face radiated glorious determination. He stood and hefted the body of the young woman over his shoulder with one arm, then stabbed behind his back. Crying out, one of Valorian’s warriors fell beside Ilfedo.

  The black dragon dropped from the cavern ceiling with a thud that shook everything except the mighty cathedral. His warriors awakened around him, a throng that multiplied into a thousand strong. They marched out into the city beneath the vast cavern ceiling. They threw themselves against the columns, the wall that divided Valorian from his goal: the Tomb of the Ancients, his one path out of this place.

  “Awaken! Awaken from sleep.” The dragon drooled thick spittle on the ground. “Thy day and mine is here. The prophets thought to hide me here; they thought to destroy me, but today I rise to rid the world of all that would oppose me.”

  Valorian raced into the city. His mighty claws stabbed into the ground, pulling wrapped bodies from the dirt. He threw off their veils, and they stood with him. Not a single warrior spoke. They surged around him, turning down the city streets, marching over the rubble and between standing structures. Their swords and shields broke upon the pillar wall, but they sacrificed their lives to attack it. They pummeled it with weapons until the weapons broke, then smote it with their fists until they could do so no longer.

  The black dragon raised his serpentine head and turned to the cathedral. The building rose as if taunting him with the little key that still glowed atop the pedestal. The little key that held raw power. The same power that had imprisoned him in this Hidden Realm. With mighty steps the dragon advanced, then stabbed his head into the stony ground and burrowed out of sight. He would come up under the pedestal and steal the power of Living Fire for his own use.