Amora descended the spiral stairs, disappearing into the magical tower, and Kirost turned to see the white dragon getting closer. He wasted no time in pouring the magical vials of oil and gas that he was given days earlier. Their magic was simply in the storage and volume of its contents. The liquid would burn brightly, hot and long, and once poured, the contents of the vials would magically expand a thousand-fold.
Let the white beast be greeted with fire when it, and its cold-loving minions, arrived.
The battle for Moartown was over. Most of the town’s inhabitants now ran to gather water and try to put out the many burning buildings after the departure of their attackers. No one truly understood why the attack ended prematurely, but they weren’t complaining. The fire had served its purpose and kept many of the creatures at bay, especially the ice devils. Several of them were vaporized, turning into steam when thrown, pushed, or otherwise caught in the intense manmade fires.
“It’s a good thing you came for me when you did,” Gabby said, embracing her father after the battle. Lucius had killed the large wolf that had lunged for her and caught it just as its jaws were clamping down around her neck. Gabby still bled slightly from where the fangs pierced her skin, but it could have been worse. A second longer and it would have ripped her throat out, cutting into her jugular and ending her life once and for all.
“Yes,” Lucius answered, using yet another blood-soaked rag to staunch her bleeding. Looking south toward the keep, he shook his head. “I see movement on top of the walls, so at least some of the soldiers survived the attack.”
“Time to find out,” Alexi said, motioning for the pair to follow her.
The fires continued to crackle, but it appeared that half the town would be spared. The middle was a complete loss, and the buildings would burn all day. There was simply too much wood in their construction, as well as flammable goods inside, to stop the greedy flames from devouring everything within it. The task now was to limit the flames from spreading to the other buildings in town.
The march to the small keep was short and quick. When they arrived, they picked their way over the bodies of the brave pikemen who lay where they were slain. A few civilians were there as well, a testament to the cruel effectiveness of the white dragon’s army.
They entered through the shattered front gates; once large and formidable, they were simply a mass of shattered wood and iron strewn about. They could not stand against the devastation of the white dragon.
There was no challenge to their entry, and quickly, the Fist of Astor found the body of the justiciar where it lay against one of the inner walls. He was still alive, barely, and several men and healing women attended to him. When she approached, Corwin nodded, blood spitting out through his lips where he was showing the signs of internal hemorrhaging.
Gabby and Lucius followed close behind. Gabby saw the man’s condition and spoke. “He doesn’t have long.”
Alexi nodded and knelt at the man’s side. “You—”
She was interrupted by Justiciar Corwin as the man coughed and grabbed the front of her plate armor with a bloody hand. “You must evacuate the town. Get them . . . to safety.” He struggled to finish.
“I will,” Alexi promised.
“You must also . . .”—the justiciar coughed again, blood splattering on the Fist’s already crimson red clothing—“bring . . . to justice the mercenary . . .”
Gabby protested. “You saw for yourself the dragon. Eric spoke truthfully.”
Corwin’s eyes grew heavy, his eyelids blinking twice as he seemed to see who was speaking. Instead, he tightened his grip on the Fist. “No matter . . . he stirred the white . . . demon . . . to anger . . .” Another round of coughing before he finished. “He brought this upon us . . . He must pay . . . Justice demands it.”
“Why . . .” Gabby stuttered for words, but Lucius grabbed her and pulled her back. The soldiers were listening, as was the magistrate, who had survived the attack.
In horror, they watched as the justiciar’s hand released its grip and fell to the ground. With his last breath, the man died in front of them.
“You heard the justiciar. Eric Bain has been pronounced guilty of his crimes,” Magistrate Galen pronounced, looking at the few surviving soldiers for confirmation of the man’s words.
Several of them nodded and looked at Gabby with narrow, hate-filled eyes. “Come, time to go,” Lucius said, pulling Gabby back from the scene.
“You are a Fist of Astor.” Galen turned to Alexi. “Your honor demands that you carry out the sentence.”
Alexi stood, still looking at Corwin, who seemed more at peace now. “There was no sentence, only a verdict.”
Galen scoffed and then stammered. “He must face justice, then. Let his sentence follow the verdict.”
Several soldiers murmured in agreement. “Fine,” Alexi said. “I will commandeer the justiciar’s troops as well as your own for the task.”
Galen protested. “We have need of our forces.”
“No,” Alexi corrected the man. “The justiciar’s last pronouncement was the evacuation of your town. Bury your dead, tend to your wounded, and then prepare to leave by sunset.”
“What? Where do you expect us to go?”
“You will go north for now. The pass isn’t safe,” the Fist said, standing over the smaller magistrate with her hand on the bloody hilt of her sword.
Galen shook his head, looking around and seeing no help from anyone who would anger the tall holy warrior. He walked away, headed back to town.
“Gather every capable person who can wield a sword,” Alexi ordered, and the soldiers nearby nodded, spurred into action.
“What are you expecting to do?” Gabby asked from a dozen feet away, restrained by her father.
Alexi walked over to them and sighed, looking around the small courtyard at the death and destruction that was wrought that day. “You must lead the townspeople to Razor Rock and from there north to Rigis. It’s the only way for now.”
“And let you bring Eric in for justice?” Gabby said, mocking the last word.
“I’m bound by honor to follow the justiciar’s orders, even in death,” Alexi said, obviously not pleased to do what she had to do.
“Well, I’m going with you. Someone a bit fairer, and with less bias, should accompany you and explain things to him. He at least deserves that,” Gabby said.
“He can still appeal the decision to the duke,” Alexi said.
“Yes,” Gabby said, starting to formulate a plan. “My father will lead the people north. I will come with you.”
“What?” Lucius found himself objecting now.
Gabby turned to him. “Come now, Father. We both know that you’re not up to climbing those damn mountains over there, and though I appreciate your sword back in town, we both know that your fighting days have long been over.”
Lucius turned to face the Fist, “I’m afraid I agree with her,” Alexi said.
The man shook his head. “My duty is to Eric and The Hunt.”
“Then you can help him by helping the town,” Gabby explained. “Take them to Razor Rock and then find a way to get to Rigis. Helping them will help Eric in front of the duke.”
Lucius understood the plan. Minimizing the damage caused was the first priority, though that was like draining the ocean with a spoon, he thought to himself. “All right, I’ll do it, but only because it could help him in light of what has happened here today.”
“Good,” Alexi said. “Now, we don’t have much time. We must leave within the hour.”
“I’m ready. Where to?” Gabby said, throwing away her rag that she had been using to clean her neck earlier.
Alexi looked at her intently. “We chase the white devil.”
“Oh, joy,” Gabby said. “Let’s get moving. I don’t want to be late for that meeting.”
Lucius wondered if his daughter had hit her head during the battle.
The smoke on the horizon was hardly visible, but there was no doubting that something
huge was burning to their west.
“That is Moartown,” Argos stated simply.
“I don’t know . . .” Eric tried to sound hopeful and looked at Diamedes.
The small historian shook his head. “I’m of the same mind as Master Argos here. I fear that something unwarranted has happened to your town.”
“But Gabby and Lucius would be there by now, no?” Eric said, holding a hand up again to clear the overhead sun and see better.
“Yes, as well as my protector, the Fist Alexi,” Diamedes added. “We should go now.”
“Hmm, you were the one who wanted to climb these stairs and explore. Ready to return so early?” Eric sounded a bit mocking.
“No need for that,” Diamedes said. “The smoke tells us much and answers little.” He walked over to the throne-like chair. “I doubt it would work, but what do you make of this indention?”
Eric watched as the smaller man pointed to the arm of the chair. “What is that?” he asked, walking next to Diamedes.
“Try it,” he said.
Eric took the key and inserted it into the small hole. Suddenly, the base of the chair moved back silently, exposing a cavity underneath it filled only with a simple wooden chest. “What’s this?”
Diamedes bent over to retrieve it.
“Wait,” Argos practically screamed.
The historian looked over at the man in mid-movement, looking rather awkward. “What is it?”
“It could be booby trapped,” Argos said wisely.
Diamedes looked up at Eric, who shrugged. “All right, I’ll take that risk,” Diamedes said, finishing his move and grabbing the small chest and then standing with it.
“Well, that went well,” Eric noted.
“It could have been trapped.” Argos sounded defeated.
“You were correct, but I ventured a guess that this was never intended for us to find,” Diamedes explained. “There is much we don’t know.”
“Shall I?” Eric asked again, waving his key.
“Please do,” Diamedes said, setting the box on the pedestal nearby and stepping back.
Eric opened the box by repeating the same movements with the key. He opened the small chest and looked inside. Diamedes leaned over as well to look inside, while Argos stayed a good distance away, half expecting something to either jump out of the box at them or explode in a life-ending blast. Neither occurred.
“I don’t dare touch that,” Eric said.
“I agree,” Diamedes said, closing the box and reaching for his pack.
“What was it?” Argos asked.
Eric looked at the other man, a tinge of fear and awe in his expression. “I don’t know for sure, but by its markings, I won’t lay a finger on it.”
“I’ll carry it till I can turn it over to the king,” Diamedes said. The historian packed the bulky but lightweight mini chest into his pack and then shouldered it and tested its weight.
“Let’s go,” Eric said, moving toward the stairs, and then stopping, he turned back to the pedestal and inserted the key one last time. The grinding stone moved in the opposite direction and closed, sealing out the light from the mountaintop.
“Why’d you do that?” Argos asked.
“Seems the right thing to do. This place must remained sealed till someone wiser than us decides what to do with it,” Eric said.
“Interesting,” Diamedes said to no one in particular.
“What?” Eric asked.
“I seriously doubt that Master Zokar understood the true nature of that key he gave you,” the historian said, moving to the top of the stairwell.
“He seemed to know that it would open the doors into this place. That would seem enough for me to indicate that he understood what this place was,” Eric said, holding his sword back over his head to illuminate their path.
“He understood enough to know that to get into Ulatha from Kesh, one could use this secret path, though the full extent of this place was either not understood or not deemed necessary,” Diamedes explained.
“What are you two talking about?” Argos said, following them down the stairs with the historian in the lead.
Eric answered, “The dragon’s lair looked familiar when I place my memory of it in the context that I have now.”
“Yes, it would make sense,” Diamedes said.
“What would make sense?” Argos asked another question.
“I think,” Eric said, looking back so that the man could hear him clearly, “I may know a way into the dragon’s lair, a secret way.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” Argos said. “Who would want that?”
“We do,” Eric said.
Chapter 18
Battle
The magic-using humans lit their tower on fire. So typical, thought Artika as she glided overhead, conveniently out of range of their magic spells. Well, actually, the parapet and the base of the fortification burned from some sort of oil or other flammable liquid. The cowardly humans retreated to the relative safety of their creation.
Artika had hit the tower several times with her spiked tail, feeling the impact shudder into her body through her tail. The magical resilience of it was obvious, and she had dealt with Kesh mages before. This would be no different; it simply called for a more patient approach. The one thing her kind could count on when dealing with these magic-using humans was their abundance of hubris. In their pride, they always missed their weaknesses, and she was about to exploit one now.
Swooping low, she hit the base of the tower with her breath weapon three times, while Askia, her protective drone, flew cover overhead with his stinger tail at the ready in case one of the wizards showed himself on top of the structure. The intense cold of her breath managed to extinguish a small section of the raging fire at the base. It wasn’t just any location where the tower sat atop the rocky cliff; it was at the very edge where it overlooked the human town.
She ordered her small ice elementals to attack not the tower itself, but the rock that supported it. The small spirits were a whirl of slashing, razor-sharp ice blades, and for everyone who chipped or broke an entire limb, two more moved into place to take up the task at hand. It would take time, but she would see the odds evened more in her favor. What they were up to she did not know, but she saw only two of the three and felt certain that their numbers had diminished as well.
The sun began to set when the humans from the town approached, trudging over the rocky and snowy ground. She was accustomed to humans chasing her back to her lair after a raid on one of their settlements, but she didn’t expect to see this many. Perhaps her attack on the town had not gone as well as it had first appeared. No matter, she would deal with them once and for all.
Before she could swing around and attack, howls came from down below as a second group of humans swarmed toward the tower from around a deep draw set farther back in the mountain. How they approached without raising an alarm could only have been accomplished with magic. She eyed the tower top with suspiciously and saw the small trapdoor there open as the two magic-using humans popped out to do battle with her and her minions.
Now she understood what they had waited for. The reinforcements would engage her army so that the powerful wizards could deal with her alone, without interference. They may have known about the townspeople as well, or not. No matter, battle was engaged on all sides, and she was sure that their pesky balls of fire would soon bathe her skin. They seemed to have it all planned out and only failed to account for one small detail in their short-lived lives—they were dealing with a dragon.
Screams of death, battle, and pain filled the mountainside air as fire and frost erupted into the twilight. Death had come, yet again, to Agon.
“You’re sure this is the way?” Argos asked, following Eric’s lead as they traveled off their intended path, heading in a northerly direction, if they had any sense of direction at all.
“I’m not sure of anything,” Eric began, “but I feel that the sword is pulling me in this direction. It�
��s as if it knows where to go, and I have a tendency to agree with it.”
“That’s most remarkable,” Diamedes said, huffing from their brutal pace through the mountainside.
“No, that’s crazy. That’s what that is,” Argos said, shaking his head, and only the historian could see the gesture. “Following a magical sword is not my idea of wisdom.”
“What would you know of that?” Eric asked, looking over his shoulder at the raider.
“Enough to stay alive for a day longer,” Argos defended himself.
Diamedes interrupted. “So you say that you weren’t the only group hired to head into the badlands?”
“Who, me?” Argos asked. Eric looked back as well.
“Well, yes,” Diamedes explained. “I meant the raiding parties that were sent after Eric’s group.”
“They never told us, but I heard rumors that there were several mobilized for something big.” Argos turned back and raced forward to catch up to Eric, who had increased his pace.
“Why are you asking?” Eric asked, not looking back this time.
“We only encountered Argos’ group.” Diamedes struggled to talk and walk quickly at the same time. “I would be certain that there are several more groups close by, somehow involved in whatever plans the Kesh are executing.”
Argos never got to ask the historian his question as Eric pulled up, and the three men bumped and jostled into each other. “What is it?” He directed his question at Eric.
“I think we are under the dragon’s lair. This should be the staircase into the upper chambers,” Eric said.
“You sure?” Argos asked.
“Never,” Eric said. “Still, this is what I think. Let’s find out.” Eric began to ascend the long staircase cut into the mountain rock.
“I hope the dragon isn’t home,” Argos said.
Diamedes nodded but disagreed. “I’m thinking it’s not only going to be home, but it’s going to be ready for us.”
“You’re such an optimist,” Eric shot back.
The White Dragon Page 19