“Sir!” cried a ranger. Woven looked up to see the man waving frantically to get his attention. “There’s something in the forest to the south,” the ranger cried in panic. The man was covered in blood and dirt. Woven noticed that his arm hung loosely at his side, no doubt broken by the siege weapons impact.
Woven shook his head to try and clear it. He ordered his men to once again brace the gate before staggering through an archway and up a flight of stone steps which led to the top of the wall.
Once at the top of the wall he gasped as he saw dozens of light sources moving quickly through the nearby woods. He narrowed his eyes and could make that the shapes were people clad in black.
“Nightblades...it can’t be...” he muttered to himself a sense of hope springing in his heart. His guess was realised when the first figures leapt from the trees to fall upon the rear of the attacking legion. Tourmaline blades swung, cutting down a number of legionaries.
“Get to the walls and help the knights,” Woven yelled at his men. The legion would be kept busy by the Nightblades and now he could free his men to aid the beleaguered defenders on the wall.
The rangers and Eclin soldiers under his command ran toward the walls a sense of renewed determination in their ranks. Help had arrived, not all was lost.
*
Ferran ducked under the steel sword of a legionnaire and lashed out with his own. The magic blade punched deep in the man’s armour to lodge into his heart. All around him his fellow Nightblades were taking the fight to the legion. He frowned as he pulled his sword from the dead man’s chest. The soldier hadn’t screamed in pain, in fact none of the legionaries were making any noise at all. They fought but they did so in an eerie silence.
Another legionary ran towards him. Ferran stepped backwards lithely bringing his blade down to parry his attackers. Again the man attacking him did so in silence, a blank expression on his face. He dodged another attack. He raised his spare hand, sending the legionary sprawling with a blast of telekinesis. He followed through by kicking the dazed legionary’s weapon out of his grasp and pulled off his helmet.
The legionary stared at him. Ferran stepped back in shock. The man’s eyes were black; the whites could not be seen at all.
A deafening boom caused him to look away. The sky above the city looked as though it was on fire. A tear was forming, pulling it apart.
The legionary saw his opportunity. Pulling a dagger from his belt he lunged. The steel blade stabbed deeply into Ferrans leg. The Nightblade cried out collapsing into a heap as pain lanced its way up his thigh. The legionnaire staggered to his feet and raised his blood soaked dagger high.
Ferran shut his eyes tightly expecting death.
It didn’t come.
He opened his eyes to see the legionnaire lying in a smouldering heap, behind him stood Yepert. The lad had steam pouring from his hands.
The boy ran over to Ferran and offered him a hand up. Ferran took it a grin on his face.
“I never thought you’d save me lad,” he said roughing up Yepert’s hair affectionately.
“I figured I owed you one. If it weren’t for you that Banshee would have sent me to the void,” Yepert replied.
As Ferran was about to reply the ground shook sending Nightblades and legionary’s sprawling to the ground. Ferran leant on Yepert to stay upright.
The tear in the sky was wider. Lightning flashed out of the tear and the night sky turned a fiery red. Two blindingly bright flashes caused them to look away. A shard of light lanced downwards towards the horde at Echlin’s walls, another shot off far to the south.
“What was that?” Yepert cried.
Ferran’s answer was drowned out by a deafening roar. Three massive black shapes emerged from the tear. Instead of falling they unfurled huge leathery wings. Their long necks swayed from side to side and fire poured from their mouths.
“Niveren save us!” Ferran cried.
“What are they?” Yepert asked his voice cracking in panic.
“Dragons, those are gods damned dragons,” Ferran answered in disbelief.
The battle had been forgotten as all eyes stared at the now soaring beasts. The biggest of the three soared high into the sky before diving down towards the ravaged city. It opened its cavernous mouth and dragon’s fire poured forth to set Eclin ablaze.
***
41.
Panicked screams drifted into his consciousness stirring him. He felt as though he had been gone for years, like he was returning to his body after a long terrible dream. The screams were the first thing he was aware of, adding to his confusion. The next sensation to come was the heat. Dry and yet comforting it made him feel safe. So why the screams?
Luxon opened his eyes slowly. He was in a bed of soft feathers and sheep wool. The room was round, the walls made of mud brick and on the reed strewn floor was a simple red and gold rug. Various pots and urns of a design that he did not recognise were stood against the far wall.
More shouts and cries could be heard coming from outside. He pulled back the thin blanket which covered his body and swung his legs out of the comfy bed. To his surprise he was wearing a simple brown robe. He looked about and saw his blue mages robe hung on a wooden peg next to the rooms arched doorway. His boots, trousers and shirt were laid neatly next to it on the floor.
Cautiously he crept to the doorway and peeked around it. A larger open room lay beyond. A simple mud brick fire pit lay at the centre deep in the floor; large cushions were arrayed in a circle around the fire. A long wooden pipe was propped up against a wall. Luxon walked over to it and ran his fingers down its length. Small holes ran down the side. It was an instrument of some kind he realised.
The sound of someone running into the house caused him to spin around. He raised his hands to defend himself. Was he still in the void? Was he dead?
A young girl stood before him. She wore a dress of a style not of Delfinnia. Her skin was dark and her hair was tied up in a long braid. Her large brown eyes widened as she saw him.
She began to speak but Luxon didn’t recognise the words. He held up his hands to try and put the girl at ease as her voice grew increasingly panicked. More shouts came from outside.
“Where am I? What is this place?” Luxon asked slowly. The girl screamed.
“Delifn! Delfin!” She yelled turning and fleeing the room. Luxon rushed after her. He pushed a curtain out of the way to find himself outside. He had to shut his eyes as the glare from a staggeringly bright sun blinded him. Heat struck him; it felt like he was in a furnace.
He held a hand up to shield his eyes.
The sky was blue!
He was home, but where. He looked around to see that he was in some kind of village. A dozen mud brick houses were arrayed in an oval pattern but the most surprising thing was the hot sand that covered everything. He was in a desert. He wracked his mind. To his knowledge only the land of Yundol had deserts. Was he so far from Delfinnia?
The girl that had screamed was stood a few feet from him a group of men covered in long robes and tribal clothes standing protectively at her side. Each brandished a long spear which they pointed at the house menacingly.
A shout came from somewhere out of view causing the men to glance nervously in that direction. Luxon looked that way too and laughed. Standing tall and powerful on a nearby dune was Umbaroth. The mighty silver dragon had his wings spread wide. Around him were a hundred or so Yundol warriors, unsure how to deal with such a massive beast.
“You know of this beast?”
Luxon spun back to face the girl and the ever growing group of scared villagers. An elderly man with dark skin and a long silver beard pushed his way to the front. He spoke Delfin with a fragmented tone.
The old man stood before Luxon. As the man got closer he could see that the old man had kindly blue eyes and skin so weathered and worn it looked like old parchment. He could see in the way the old man stood that decades of living under the harsh sun had made him tough and proud. His head was held high d
espite the slight hunch of his old shoulders.
“I do. He means you no harm, and neither do I,” Luxon said, trying his best to sound friendly.
The old man frowned for a moment as he looked over the strange young man.
“For someone so young your eyes look so old,” the old man said in wonder. He reached out and ran his rough hands over the lads face.
“I am Suabei, elder of this village. You have been a great mystery to us ever since Sasa my granddaughter’, the elder explained gesturing towards the girl who had been in the house, ‘found you on the beach. She thought you had come from the gods. Instead you are one of the white folk from across the sea,” he continued almost sounding disappointed.
“I am Luxon and that,’ he said pointing to the dragon which had sat on its haunches, ‘is Umbaroth. He is a dragon.”
Suabei’s eyes widened.
“A dragon? Were they not sent to the void long ago...’ his eyes grew even wider as a realisation struck him. He stepped back and made a strange sign with his hands, no doubt a way to ward off evil.
“You are from the void. The bright light that fell here was your spirit returning...you were found weeks ago,” Suabei muttered. He looked at the strange boy in a new light, and felt pity.
“That is why your eyes are so old. I am sorry,” he said with a bow.
Luxon scratched his chin unsure what to say. To him it felt like a bad dream.
“I have to get to Delfinnia Suabei. I have friends who are in grave danger. Danon has returned.” Luxon explained.
Suabei made the sign yet again.
“And you are sent by the god of balance to stop him, you and your dragon?”
“I don’t know about that, but I know I have to try,”
*
Luxon was once again dressed in his normal clothes and blue mages cloak. He felt weary as his reserves of magical energy had been drained by Danon. Even so he had to try and to stop him. A crowd of Yundol had come out to watch him leave. Learning that Umbaroth was not to be feared the villagers had given the dragon gifts of food and gold. Children clambered over his huge claws; one even climbed as high his snout. The dragon had then carefully plucked the giggling child off in his talons to lower it gently back to the ground. Luxon couldn’t help but smile at the joy evident in Umbaroth’s eyes. The great beast had waited since the dawn of man to return to the world.
The girl Sasa stepped forward and looked at Luxon shyly. In her arms was a long stick capped with the figure of a dragon. She held it out for him and smiled. Luxon took the stick and looked it over. He hefted the weight and marvelled at the detail of the figure and the runes engraved along its length.
“It is a staff. I recognised the blue robes of a mage and told her that you must be one,” Suabei said as he put an arm around the girl. “She spent the weeks whilst you slept carving it. I think she has taken a shine to you,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.
Luxon blushed. He bowed to Sasa. “Thank you; it truly is a thing of beauty.” He felt around inside his cloak for something to give her in return. His pockets were empty save for the dagger that Grandmaster Thanos had given to him. ‘Won’t do me much good against Danon’ he thought. He pulled the weapon from his cloak and held it out to the girl handle first. The blade was Deflin steel, far superior to the iron weapons many of the Yundol warriors carried, it would fetch a tidy sum of gold.
Sasa took the dagger and smiled. She bowed in thanks before scurrying off to show her gift to her friends. Suabei placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Good luck. May Niveren guide you. You and your dragon are always welcome here.”
Luxon bowed in thanks. The kindness shown by the Yundol’s warmed his heart. The Delfin people and the Yundols had been enemies for centuries, ever since the days of King Marcus and the founding of the kingdom of Delfinnia.
With a wave goodbye, Luxon walked away from the village towards Umbaroth who had retaken his place on top of the nearby dunes. The dragon raised his head to point at the staff in Luxon’s hands.
“A staff? You truly are a wizard,” Umbaroth chuckled. “Although you’re not much of one with no magic,” he added.
Luxon shot the dragon a look of annoyance.
“I have to try Umbaroth. We both do. Those other dragons are no doubt free and wreaking havoc.’ He snapped. He sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I guess I should be thanking you, I assume you saved me at Danon’s tower?”
The dragon lowered his head to rest it on the ground.
“I did. I saw you fall and heard your summons. I caught you and flew through the tear. There was a bright light and we ended up here. You back in your body and me in the sand. I am sorry too my young friend. Now is not the time for jokes or snide remarks. I can help you if you would allow me too. Stand before me,” Umbaroth said.
Luxon raised an eyebrow before stepping in front of the dragon.
“Close your eyes. This may tickle a bit,” Umbaroth explained.
Luxon did as he was told and closed his eyes. Umbaroth rose to his fall height. He opened his mouth and breathed. Instead of fire, pure magic came out. The energy flowed from the dragon into Luxon who gasped as he could feel power and strength return to his body.
He opened his eyes and smiled. He felt fantastic, the tiredness was gone.
“What did you do?” he asked. He looked at a nearby stone and focused causing it to rise into the air. He made a fist which caused the stone to explode into dust.
“I cast a spell which has bound us together. My strength is yours and vice versa. This is a sacred bond and one that is only usually done between dragons. Place your staff into the sand over there,” Umbaroth said solemnly.
Luxon took the staff and plunged into the sand.
“Step back,” the dragon commanded. Luxon did so, curious as to what would happen.
Once again Umbaroth stood at his full height. He took a deep breath. His stomach lit up and light flowed up his body into his neck until finally fire poured forth to envelope the staff.
As the dragon fire struck, the staff blackened and the surrounding sand turned to glass, steam erupted from the ground almost blinding Luxon.
After a few moments the steam cleared to reveal the staff. To Luxon’s amazement the wood hadn’t turned to ash but stood tall and strong. An aura of pure magic radiated around it sparkling in the desert sunlight.
“Take it. It will be quite cool. I have enchanted the staff with dragons fire. It will make a mighty weapon for a wizard,” Umbaroth said with pride.
Luxon gazed at the staff in awe.
Cautiously he approached it. The carbonised ground crunched as he walked but no heat save from the sun and sands could be felt through his boots.
He gripped the staff expecting it to be hot. Instead it was just warm. With a grunt he pulled it from the ground and cried out as he felt power shoot from the staff and into his body.
“I will call it Dragasdal. The Dragons fire,”
***
42.
Elena held the prince close to her chest as she watched in horror at the firestorm sweeping through Eclin’s streets. From her vantage point in Baron Lido’s castle she had seen the dragons emerge from the tumultuous sky which fizzed and sparked with an unearthly power. She stifled a cry as the biggest of the dragons had dived down over the city, its cavernous mouth spewing deadly flame.
“It’s over,” a tired voice came from behind her. She jumped at the unexpected intrusion.
She held the prince tighter as she slowly turned to face whoever had come into the room. There stood before her was the baron. His face was white and haggard and his eyes were bleary due to the influence of alcohol. His once regal clothes were stained with wine, in his hand he held a half empty bottle whilst in the other was his sword which scraped upon the floor.
“My ancestors kept this city safe for centuries; my own grandfather died protecting it, and now I will share his fate. Only this time there will be nothing to survive me,” Lido sobbed.
Elena felt pity for the man. His spirit was broken. What chance had he had against such evil?
Now as the city burned and monsters from myth were raining death from above she too felt the stirrings of despair. Only her love of the small child in her arms kept her from giving up. She frowned and firmed her lips. She would not let them die here. The baron had failed, he could wallow in his own self pity if he wished but she would live, and she would make sure the prince would too.
Cries of the dying were carried on the smoke filled air. Panicked shouts and screams from the terrified refugees hiding inside the castle walls added to the sound of apocalypse and in the distance was the steady rhythm of the ghouls marching steadily through the cities streets.
Cautiously she stepped past the baron and with a last look of pity left the room. Quickly she hurried down the stone walled corridor and passed through an inner courtyard.
A terrifying roar caused her to find shelter in the shadow of an archway as the massive black dragon flew over the castle. Archers loosed their arrows with no effect. The beast would return and the castles fate would be sealed.
Panicked men and women ran past her all heading for the cellars and the escape tunnels that Woven had mentioned before he had headed back out into the battle raging outside.
Elena pushed her way through the crowd until she found some room. The dark cool cellar was filling up fast and soon it would turn into a tomb. The grate that Woven had shown her hung loose as people ripped it off of its hinges. Eclin soldiers tasked of defending the grate were pushed aside by the crowd, some even downed their spears and joined the rout, each desperate to escape the burning city and the dragons.
Elena cried out as she saw a man pushing his way through the crowd. He was trying to get inside rather than flee. Finally he broke free. It was Woven. The left side of his face was burnt terribly from his temple to his chin and his clothes were blackened and singed. He staggered a few steps before collapsing onto the cold stone floor as the weight of the crowd gave way.
Heir to the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga) Page 27