by C. K. Rieke
The silence ended with a quick movement by the Major, who raised a hand high into the air, and let it fall hard towards the demon and his dragon. “Loose!” he yelled and a storm of arrows shot towards the two. Riverend didn’t move. The dragon lifted a rotting wing over him, but arrows ripped easily through it.
Zelestiana and Astor were already in motion, running at him. With the flick of Riverend’s wrist, he shot the storm of red tails at the Major, who didn’t react quickly enough. It tore directly into his chest, ripping easily through his armor with the sound of grinding metal. He lurched back in pain. “Fire at will!” he yelled, and a flurry of arrows hit at the scales of the dragon again. It hissed in the direction of the soldier’s and their bows, and ran off towards them, killing everything in its path.
Riverend fought off the attacks of Zelestiana and Astor flawlessly. They continued to lay into him, trying to get him to move back, even an inch. Yet, he was powerful, his arms like iron. With one mighty blow, he knocked both of them back, and swung his whip, which they narrowly evaded.
“He’s strong,” Astor said. “How do you think we beat him?”
“We’re going to cut him in half,” Zelestiana said. “We’ll see if that works.” Beads of sweat were dripping from her head.
“Ready to die, wench?” Riverend sneered, his dragon’s eye gleaming with cruel delight and malice. “I thought you would have posed more of a threat, the way Angela Dragus the Righteous talked about you.”
“You’ll die as she did,” Zelestiana said, with grim intent. “Riverend and his dragons will perish at the hands of mortal men and women.”
With a flash, he drew a hand up to unleash the whip upon her, but with before he could a sword into his hand, and droplets of blood fell to the ground. Riverend’s eyes glowed with rage at the sight of his own blood, and looked up from his hand to see Gar holding the bloody blade.
“Look, he’s no demon. He’s just an old man,” Gar said, as he ran back to Zelestiana’s side, who’d hidden him long enough with her Azulūz, that he was able to creep behind the dragon master.
“Why do you fight, when you know there is no victory for you? The warriors of Armoz are countless, and undying. What purpose does it serve to delay the inevitable? You are all going to die, today or tomorrow, it matters not. Armoz, my King, is coming for you all!”
“In this you are wrong,” Zelestiana said, lowering her sword to her side. “You believe Armoz will save you. But you forget what is coming for you. Ojiin, the Great God Above, is waking. You know I speak the truth. You may not fear us. But you fear him.” She took a step forward. “You know of his power. You know he will kill Armoz for this.”
Riverend sneered and spat at her. “Ojiin is dead. He’s never coming back!”
“You’re wrong again,” a voice said behind Zelestiana, who turned to see Lily standing behind them, no weapon, no armor.
“What are you doing, Lily? Get out of here!” Astor yelled. A strong gust of wind blew at her hair.
“I know that one. My Lord wants her,” Riverend said.
“Then come and get me,” Lily said, her eyes dimly lit by a blue haze.
“Get her!” Riverend yelled at the large, dragon full of teeth and claws. It rushed towards her, and she stood unflinching.
The dragon was almost at her, when she opened her lips and said, “I found someone for you to play with.”
From nowhere, a loud growl was heard, and a giant form jumped over Lily and onto the neck of the dragon, knocking it completely on its back. It bit and cut its claws into the dragon, which hissed in agony.
Astor stood there, watching, trying to discern what beast had entered the battle, and was mauling the giant dragon. His eyes went wide, “It can’t be . . .”
Black stripes lined the back of the red fur in the moonlight, and huge, white antlers protruded from its massive head. It moved ruthlessly and swiftly. Tearing at the dragon as it gasped, and tried to fight back. The sheer size of the beast had the dragon pinned to the ground, as it ripped it apart.
“I don’t believe my eyes,” the Major whispered, “a Tangier, a real Tangier!”
“It’s beautiful as the stories say,” Zelestiana said.
The Tangier removed its jaws from the dragon’s neck. It stood there in the moonlight under the blood red sky. Every dragon not fighting watched it as it killed the largest of the dragons. It stood there, with the body of a tiger, four times the size of a man, and with ivory antlers that dripped with dragon’s blood.
Riverend stood there, motionless, perhaps deep in thought. “I grow weary of these games.” He gave a loud whistle that echoed through the air. Another slender, black dragon came to his side, and he mounted it before any of them could react. “An eye for an eye,” he said, as the dragon lifted him off into the sky. The surrounded dragons flew up after him.
The town of Holdenbrook, now littered with corpses of all varieties, was still. “What did he mean an eye for an eye?” Lily asked.
Riverend began his low, slow laugh as he flew off. “Your world is doomed. Black ash will be your new home. Your heroes will fall. Your homes will burn. You hurt my children, now I will hurt yours.”
Lily’s raised her hand to her mouth in horror, “He’s going to slaughter the children.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
THE air was still. The winds were soft and desperate. Gasping for release. The grass stood tall, and motionless. There was no chirping of birds or scampering of hares.
Creeping low through the grass, Gogenanth’s joints ached and cracked. He didn’t know exactly how long he had been bound in the high reaches of his prison, the city of Barrier Cliff. But, his normally powerful physique ached from malnourished and dehydration. He almost choked the first time they crossed to a fresh water stream, he drank so fast.
Wollen, was even worse for wear. The broad shoulders of Wollen paled in comparison to what they once were. His wild hair had even begun to show hints of grey.
Ezmerelda, on the other hand, was brimming with energy. She wanted to punish the one who made her friend suffer as he did, the Crooked Knight, Xelex. “I’m going to rip his head off his body and shove it down his throat,” she said, with clinched teeth as she walked next to Yule, who was assisting Wollen.
“I don’t think that would work, shoving a head down a throat,” Yule said, his eyes remaining straight ahead. “Because a head is bigger than . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Ezmerelda cut him off. “I was just saying. What if I cut his hands off and shoved them down his throat? Would that fit?” Yule gave her an unsure glance, and shrugged his shoulders.
The sun was high above them as they continued walking through the grassy plains. They now walked straight and tall, as they were far enough from the city that the remaining dragons would no longer see them. They stopped frequently, mainly to let Wollen rest and attend to his wounds.
“Ay girl, thank you and your friend,” Wollen said, as he rubbed tharowroot on his wrists, that were worn from shackles. The tharowroot had a gummy consistency, and turned from brown to white as he rubbed it into his open scabs. “Surely, we would be goners had we stayed chained up there much longer.”
Yule pulled out a pipe, and pinched stale tobacco leaves into it. He handed it to Wollen. Once Wollen put it to his dry, cracked lips, Wollen lit the end. He inhaled deeply, and exhaled in a big puff of air and smoke. He coughed, struggling to keep his composure.
“Gogenanth, come over here,” Wollen said, holding back another cough. Gogenanth went over and kneeled next to him, who sat up against a black stone, pale and a sickly looking.
“Yes, my friend?”
“Are the others alive?” he asked, his eyes sullen, and wet.
“I— I don’t know,” Gogenanth responded.
Wollen choked back a cough, and groaned, “I can’t live knowing any others are in danger from these devils. What happened to Xersha . . . I won’t let happen to anyone else.”
<
br /> Gogenanth smiled. “Well, there’s a chance Zaan is still alive, from what Xelex said. That’s why we are heading East, to Dillengrad. The plan was always to send him there, if anything happened. With any luck, we could get there in time.”
“Dillengrad, huh. Well, what are we waiting for?” he said, as he struggled to get to his feet, and puffed out his chest. Some color appeared to return to his cheeks. He held out an open hand and Gogenanth clapped his hand into it, with a strong embrace. “We have a friend to save.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
“YOU feel that?”
“That what?”
“That chill in the air.”
Tilda studied the air around them. “No.”
“I felt it, well . . . maybe I didn’t.”
“Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you.”
“Or maybe there’s a storm coming,” Zaan said, “and I’m the only one who senses it.”
“Come on, we’ve got to get you back to apply more salve to your wound.” She was half-carrying him as they fell into stride, walking down the busy cobblestone street, leaving the confused crowd behind them.
As they walked, Zaan watched a young girl walking a small puppy along the sidewalk. It struck him that the girl appeared to be walking alone, unsupervised. His black eyebrows curled up as he scanned the area for the parents. He suddenly stopped, and it jarred Tilda and held her back.
“What’s wrong?”
“That girl, she’s alone,” Zaan said. Something’s wrong, I can feel it. The dog began to bark wildly and started to pull at its leash. He watched the dog’s saliva fly from its mouth as it barked loudly, as the girl struggled to hold it from running off.
“It’s okay, Zaan,” Tilda said. “It’s just a puppy.”
Zaan looked down the busy street and saw another dog began barking, and cat ran past him, under his feet. A doorway opened, and a well-dressed woman with short blonde hair yelled for the young girl and the pup to come back inside.
Another cat ran past, and the dogs continued to bark. Tilda looked at him, “What is it, Zaan?”
His shoulder ached in pain, and he could barely lift his arm. Yet, he fought through it the best he could, and began a soft chant, and his eyes grew a soft blue. He closed them, and slowly the blackness of his shut eyes began to turn to a pale blue outline of the street they were on. He saw the dogs barking, as they were outlined by dancing blue smoke.
Looking around, he could sense the tension from the animals around, and looked up to where they were barking. He hadn’t been able to see it in the daylight, but in this shadowy view, he could see it off in the distance, riding through the sky, heading towards them.
“Zaan, what’s wrong?” Tilda asked. “Zaan, look at me, what’s wrong?”
“It’s him,” he struggled to say, and pain overtook him. Zaan’s vision blurred and everything around him turned to a dance of light and shadow. His heart beat raced as the panic set in. He heard Tilda’s voice somewhere in his mind, but he couldn’t quite locate it. He tried to yell out to her, to ask her where she was, to ask her for help. Then the blackness crept in. It was calm, and dark, then it was all-consuming.
***
“Zaan,” Tilda yelled. “Zaan! Wake up.” She jolted his arms with her hands, and even slapped him once, with no response. She looked up to notice the people who had been walking the streets moments ago, were now running past her.
Yelling, and screams of frightened girls, echoed from down the street. Doors slammed shut and lights were extinguished in windows. Tilda looked up to see black, thick clouds rolling in. As she held Zaan in her arms, she looked down towards the main city square, where she heard the bulk of the yelling.
She saw him then, riding low in the sky. Massive wings ripped through the clouds, and she saw the ax of flame the Crooked Knight wielded upon the dragon’s back. It drifted down towards the city. “Wake up, Zaan. I need you now.” The dragon roared loudly as it landed in the market square, and there were screams all around. Suddenly, a bright light shot out, like lightning. Then the fire started.
The flames grew at an unnatural speed. Men ran before them, silhouetted against the great, white flames. Tilda heard screams of pain and terror in the direction of Xelex and the dragon, as it hissed and roared. Then, there, in the heart of the fire, she saw him dismount. The one person she never wished to see again.
She put her hands frantically on Zaan’s face. “Wake up, Zaan. Please wake up.” She shook his shoulder, and yelled for him to snap out of it.
He stood down the road, at the entrance to the city square. He was framed by two towers at each side of him, and the ever-growing flames erupted in the background. Silhouetted by the crackling flames, Xelex had come for them at last.
He held his heavy, metal battle ax at his side. It moved in his hand as if it weighed nothing. His long black, leather cape had small flames nipping at its tails, and his silver armor danced with bright, white light. His crooked back was ever visible as he hunched over to one side. With a clashing of metal on metal, he took a large step towards them.
“Zaan, listen to me, you have to wake up.” She held her face up to his. “Zaan, goddammit, I swear if you don’t wake up . . .” Tilda looked back up to Xelex as he crept closer. Two soldiers ran up to him with swords raised, then both went down with a single arc of his ax. They screamed in pain as the flames burned their flesh from their bones. He continued his stride without interruption.
“Okay, Zaan. I mean it. Wake up!” She slapped him firmly across the cheek. “Zaan!” she yelled once more. Looking up at Xelex as he approached, her wet eyes, glimmered in flames. Softly, she laid Zaan on his back, and she slowly stood. The fires swept around the city, and she unsheathed her long sword from behind her back.
Gripping the sword’s hilt, she felt the leather mesh into the folds of her hands. Blonde hair glided in front of her face, as the heat from the fire rushed past her. She took two steps forward and spread her feet into a strong defensive position, pressing her boots firmly into the stone street. Her sword swaying in front of her as the Crooked Knight approached.
Xelex was now a mere few yards away, his size more massive than last time they’d met on the black, mirror stone of Barrier Cliff.
“That’s far enough, demon!” she yelled out to him, the fire seemed just at his back.
Xelex took his last step, and stood squarely before her. “Out of the way, Tilda. The boy, Zaan Talabard, is mine,” he said with a slow, rumbling tone.
“If you take one more step, I’ll cut you down.” Her hair whipped wildly in front of her face as she yelled out to Xelex.
“Ha, ha, ha,” the Crooked Knight laughed loudly, causing tiny pebbles to fall from the stone walls around them in the long street. The devilish laugh faded. “Do you not see death is upon you? Do you not see your words are futile? I will have my prize. This war does not end with him alive. Out of my way.” He raised his ax high to his side, and took a lumbering step forward.
Tilda’s eyes squinted, and she whispered to herself, “Damn, here we go, Tilda.”
She rushed forward with her sword at her side. She moved in with quick speed, and laid quick, accurate blows on him he managed to deflect. He kept his ax between her sword and him, as his deathly eyes peered into hers.
Sparks flew as her sword grazed his armor, almost laying a solid blow on him. Her adrenaline flowed as she easily ducked from his large ax, and evaded his strikes. Anyone who was watching from their windows would have struggled to keep track of the motions of either of them, as they were a blur of flying metal and sparks. However well she seemed to be doing against Xelex, she couldn’t escape the heat from the fires.
She noticed that his cape was fully lit, and she found herself breathing heavily. With a motion, quick like the blowing wind, she flipped back away from him, to kneel by Zaan’s side, who still lay motionless. “Zaan, now would be a pretty good time to awaken.” Then she heard a voice, not Zaan’s but
another familiar one.
“It won’t do any good.” Tilda heard the voice say. It appeared to be in a dimly lit alleyway to her side. The body of a man began to emerge from the darkness and into the firelight. “His injury is going to take him soon, the injury Xelex caused is going to kill Zaan.” The hooded figure lowered his head and wisps of blue smoke wafted from underneath the figure’s veil, and floated over to Zaan. They floated around his head for a moment, encapsulating his head, like a crown.
Zaan’s eyes shot open with iceberg blue. “Headmaster.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
“THE old man has finally shown himself. Death has finally come for you. There is no hiding this time,” Xelex said as he stood, brandishing his ax, ravishing bright flames roaring from it. “Death is all that will be left of this world when I am done with it.”
Tilda helped Zaan to his feet, and he grabbed his sword on his hip. It shimmered a white light, he walked over to the street and stood squarely against Xelex. Tilda stood at his side.
“I’ve waited for this moment,” Zaan said, anger on his breath. “We will hide no more from you, or anyone. Death is only upon you.”
The Crooked Knight growled a wretched growl, as though dark wheels churned within him. He stepped forward with his massive ax, his cape had burned away to nothing. He was a full two heads taller than Zaan, and lumbered over him. Rushing at Zaan and Tilda, he swung his ax with a great arc. Tilda evaded it, and Zaan jumped back quickly, rolling away as the ax skidded off the street.
Tilda rushed up to him and began to slash at him with her sword as Zaan began chanting. Torches started to fly from their positions along the road and hit Xelex from every angle. It made it all the more tough for Xelex to focus on Tilda, as he became bombarded with every object Zaan could see in the street.