She yelled down to us, ‘State your name and business here!’
Timor stepped forward. ‘Nydel! It’s me, Timor!’
‘Our elven eyes spotted you before you even left the forest,’ Nydel answered. ‘But this time, you bring guests and forgive us, but we’re a bit wary of beings we don’t know these days.’
‘It’s Aidan and Iskandor!’ Timor called.
There was a silence.
‘Aidan and Iskandor?’
Timor nodded.
Another silence, then the elf yelled something in elvish. The elves on the mountains lowered their bows.
The female elf approached and scrutinized us closely. ‘It really is them, isn’t it?’
I glanced at Iskandor, whose expression was neutral.
Nydel nodded, understanding. She then looked at me with a scrutinizing gaze. ‘And you are Aidan…from Delmar?’
I frowned a little, trying to figure out where her tone of wonder was coming from — then I remembered my altered appearance. ‘I am.’
The elf’s wide-eyed gaze of awe shifted to a slight frown of puzzlement. ‘You look nothing like him. And yet, that scar…’ She was quiet for a moment. ‘That means they can save our world!’
I had to get a handle on the anger that swelled inside me. Boy, Timor could be quite presumptuous, couldn’t he?
Suddenly, we heard what sounded like a stampede, coming from the northwest.
Appearing suddenly through the fog, a group of men charged through the clearing toward us — though none like I had ever seen before. Their skin was black — not the dark brown of the people of the islands, but black like obsidian. I noticed their eyes were even stranger than mine: blood red. The entire eye was that sickening color of red, not just the irises and the pupils. Most were armed, with swords and axes, and some wielded shields.
I yanked my swords from their sheaths, heard Timor chanting to my right, heard Iskandor let out a low growl. I ran right out in front, the lust of battle overtaking me. Finally, something I could fight against, something I could take out my anger and aggression on!
The first of the wave came at me, and I was in motion. I ducked as the swing of a battle axe sailed over my head, and responded with a double horizontal swipe from my right, taking down the first. Behind me, I could hear Timor and Iskandor using their magic, along with screams of defeated foes. I could hear the elves firing arrows.
Another of the mob swung a sword from over his shoulder, intending to slice me in half. I blocked the swing with the sword in my left hand, and stabbed him through the abdomen with the sword in my right. He fell, and behind him came another, swinging an axe in each hand. I prepared to counter, but something was tugging at my leg.
I looked down, and the first foe I had taken down wasn’t dead. He had both arms around my ankles, trying to drag me down to the ground. It appeared that these new foes would not be put down with simple slashes and stabs.
Damn!
I reacted on instinct. I tossed the blade in my right hand and caught it with blade facing down, and stabbed the man right down through his neck. His grasp on my leg immediately loosened, and I jumped backward.
When I say I ‘jumped’, I mean that’s what I attempted to do. The more appropriate term is probably flew. It seemed my newfound powers had also enhanced my natural abilities. I found that my jumping ability had increased greatly, as I landed some ten yards from where I had originally jumped.
Interesting.
The mob expressed no surprise, nothing except the intent to kill, and kept charging.
I was still surprised by my unexpected flight, so when the man with the two axes reached me and swung his axes from both sides, I blocked them with both swords and kicked him away to buy myself time. He immediately came at me again, attempting to swing both axes diagonally from his right side. I pulled my head back to dodge (usually a fundamental no-no…oops), and stabbed him with both swords as he stumbled past. I kicked him away again to free my swords, and prepared to take on the next foe, when I heard a deafening screech.
From behind me, what could have once been a bird, but was as obsidian black as the foes I was fighting and as large as a dragon. It swooped down through the fog and snatched up Timor in its long talons, and flew away quickly, to the north.
Just as my mind processed that Timor was being taken away, another set of giant claws snatched me away too.
Fighting against the iron grip that made breathing quite a task, I struggled to find a way free, to no avail. A quick look behind me revealed that Iskandor was in dragon form, but was locked in battle with another of the large bird-beasts.
I slashed at the giant bird’s leg with my shortswords that I still gripped tightly, but I had no leverage to get a decent swing and my attempt at breaking free was futile, at best. Timor was trying to cast his magic, but he wasn’t having better luck.
One thing was immediately obvious to me: these birds could have killed us if they wanted to. Both Timor and I were being taken in the same direction (north), so somebody knew we were here in this time and wanted us.
The question was, who?
CHAPTER 4
It seemed like forever that Timor and I were in the clutches of those ghastly birds, flying high over what was once a beautiful landscape. Even from miles above the ground, the entire landscape had the feel of a ghost town; the result of centuries of an impossible war between the free peoples of this continent and an overwhelming, somehow highly-trained Ther-lor army. Large areas of the ground were still blackened from the fires of war. Even the normal land seemed decayed and wilted — as if the land itself had given up on the world.
Although parts of the landscape were seriously altered, I recognized areas of land as we passed them by.
We were heading in the direction of Delmar.
Before I knew it, a very unnerving sight loomed in the distance — an enormous, black void towering over a world still (barely) struggling for its survival. The horrifying structure took up the entire area where the capital of Delmar, Alexia, had once stood — no traces of the old city remained. The base of the structure stretched past the boundaries of the old city, and the top of the structure culminated in a single, narrow spire that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky.
If the entire atmosphere wasn’t so gloomy (and we weren’t apparently being held captive), it might almost have been beautiful, in a haunting sort of way.
Timor and I were flown to the ground in front of the giant black structure, where a crowd of those black-skinned beings waited silently. They grabbed us and dragged us inside, through hall after hall of plain black walls. Every hall was crowded with more of those beings, who paid no attention to us as we passed.
It was surreal, to say the least.
Finally, we were brought to a giant circular room, topped by a domed ceiling some seventy or eighty feet high, and lit by dozens of large torches all over the walls. The room was almost entirely taken up by a huge rectangular platform surrounded by three steps. Like every other room in this wretched place, it was completely black and devoid of decorations.
Our captors dragged Timor and I to a cage standing on the platform and threw us inside, slamming the door shut behind us. For the first time, I felt that hopeless feeling of despair when that door slams shut, and I understood why criminals often banged on the doors and demanded to be released after they were thrown in a cell, knowing full well we just weren’t going to let them out. My instinct screamed at me to do the same.
Timor was chanting beside me. A glimmer of hope swelled inside me. Perhaps he knows a spell?
‘You really don’t think I’d be that foolish, do you?’
Timor stopped chanting, and we both turned in the direction of the voice, which was coming from the other end of the platform. A man in a black hood.
And there, in the distance, I saw the vision of nightmares.
The hooded figure began to walk toward us. I began to feel a small, but tangible sense of dread that intensified as
he got closer. He came to a stop about ten feet away, and removed his hood.
I couldn’t help but recoil in disgust.
The top half of his head was bald and mostly normal, save for black eyes and what appeared to be runes of some type that had been carved into his flesh, all over his scalp. The lower half of his face was anything but normal; most of the flesh on the lower half of his face was missing, exposing the white bone of his jaw.
The man — or whatever he was — seemed amused at my discomfort. Then again, with his jaw exposed like that, I couldn’t help but think he must always look amused.
‘That cage has an enchantment on it that nullifies all magic, Timor. So save your strength.’ The man tilted his head. ‘That wouldn’t be “Aidan of Delmar”, would it?’
I nodded once. ‘It would.’
He nodded in return and spread his arms wide. ‘Welcome to the Dead Citadel! You’re a few thousand years from where you belong, are you not? You look nothing like I remember you…but then, that is the legendary scar.’
‘How do you know of me?’ I asked.
The mysterious man seemed to smile beneath the hood. ‘I know of you because you were considered the biggest threat we would have to deal with when we invaded Delmar. We had plans to take care of you ourselves, but King Baladir did that for us before we had a chance.’ The man let out a small laugh.
I suppressed a small surge of anger and frowned, mentally kicking myself for not having seen it sooner, while reminding myself that the invasion of Delmar happened three thousand years ago.
‘You led the invasion on Delmar?’
The hooded head nodded. ‘I did, though I was not there in physical form.’
‘What does that mean?’ I asked, bewildered.
The man shook his head. ‘Enough about me.’
I couldn’t have agreed more. ‘Indeed. What do you want with us?’
‘Please forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself.’ The grotesque figure bowed. ‘I am Lord Sirak, ruler of this world.’
Finally, I could take a clean shot at him. ‘Love what you’ve done with the place. You must get awful bored though, with no one to talk to and nothing going on, since you control a bunch of mindless drones.’
Sirak was unperturbed. ‘The races of this world were easier to conquer than I imagined. It is not my fault they were all weak.’
‘At least they had their own will,’ I retorted.
Sirak chuckled. ‘And look where that got them. Tell me, do you truly believe your world is a better one than the one I have created?’
‘That supposed to be some kind of trick question?’
Sirak shook his head. ‘Not at all. I can see in your eyes that you have no faith in my world. But here, there is no more war, no more fighting, no more arguments. The world is pure.’
‘Pure garbage,’ I responded, but Sirak didn’t seem to hear me — he was drunk on his own euphoria.
‘I have created a world where there is no turmoil, no political strife, no incessant bickering. Everyone in this world contributes, does their share, and doesn’t argue. They are free of their selfish needs! Together, under my rule, my cult, the Dyn’osi, have created the perfect world!’
‘He’s mad,’ Timor whispered in my ear.
‘Think so?’ I replied, annoyed at his obvious statement. ‘Seems perfectly normal to me.’
Sirak seemed to come down from his little cloud, his shoulders settling as he relaxed. ‘But I must apologize; you asked a question, and rudely, I have yet to answer it.’
‘I agree with the “rude” part, but it has nothing to do with the question,’ I mumbled.
‘Interestingly,’ Sirak continued, ‘it is not you I want to speak to, Aidan. It’s you.’His glare turned to Timor.
‘Me?’ Timor asked, visibly shaking. ‘What could you possibly want with me?’
‘Well, a little backstory first,’ Sirak said.
I sighed. ‘Here we go.’
‘I once belonged to an ancient, dark cult,’ Sirak began, ‘but over time, they didn’t agree with my own method of doing things. One might say that I was too dark, even for them. For my supposed “crimes”, I was banished to the Netherealm.’
‘Netherealm?’ I asked, having never heard that before.
‘Yes,’ Sirak said. ‘It’s not quite what you would consider “hell”, but it is where evil beings get banished as punishment. I was there for a very long time — the result is the decay you see upon my skin now. It is a terrible place, but rather than teach me a lesson, it only fueled my desire to exact revenge upon the world who had wronged me. I still had followers, the Dyn’osi, and they helped me carry out my deed — to create the perfect world. But in order to maintain my appearance in the physical world, I needed the power of souls.’ He gestured behind him to the magical cylinder with the few swirling orbs inside.
‘The power of souls?’ Timor asked, staring across the room at the orbs.
‘Yes,’ Sirak responded. ‘The power of souls is more powerful than all the magic in the world. My purpose was two-fold — to create the perfect race by taking all the souls of the people in a city, and to use those souls to keep myself alive. Alas, the cathedral is running low on souls, so I must resort to drastic measures.’
‘So you’re like any magical tyrant in history,’ I said evenly. ‘That’s nice.’
‘I am not like anyone else in history,’ Sirak growled. ‘I succeeded.’
‘If that’s the term you want to use,’ I answered, looking around.
‘Anyway,’ Sirak continued, ‘As you can see, there are very few souls to take now, so there is no use for the Rod of Therl.’
Well, that confirmed that.
‘As such, I need more assistance to keep myself alive. I need Timor to use his time-traveling abilities to go back in time and retrieve a special artifact for me.’
Timor didn’t respond, so I did.
‘Not happening.’
Sirak glared at me for a moment, and then his face softened. ‘How about a little wager?’
I didn’t like the sound of that. ‘What do you mean?’
Sirak smiled — I guess. ‘You were on your way to becoming one of the greatest fighters who ever lived. If you can defeat one of my best Ther-lor, I will set you both free. But if you lose, you have to help me. Sound like a deal?’
The whole offer reeked of deception — but in the end, what choice did I have?
‘I accept your offer, Sirak.’
‘Lord Sirak.’
I ached to bury him in sarcasm, but I restrained myself. ‘Lord Sirak. My apologies.’
With that, Sirak turned his back on us, seemingly talking to himself.
Timor turned to me immediately. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’
I sighed in exasperation. ‘I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.’
‘You’re going to get killed!’
‘One, thanks for your faith in me. Two, do you have a better idea?’
Timor had no answer for that. Then he said, ‘That magical cylinder — if we destroy it, it will release the souls inside and restore them to their owners.’
‘Good,’ I replied, ‘that’ll save like four people.’
As usual, my sarcasm went straight over Timor’s head. ‘But if we’re able to do this in our own time, it will save the entire city.’
‘How do you know that?’ I asked, intrigued.
‘I’ve read a great deal about necromancy,’ Timor replied. ‘Whenever a soul is taken, if it is not consumed, it can be released back to its owner.’
A Ther-lor came to the cage and unlocked it and handed me my short swords.
‘Thanks,’ I muttered.
‘He won’t answer you,’ Sirak called from the middle of the platform. ‘They only hear my voice, or the voices of my lieutenants.’
For a split second, I questioned Sirak’s wisdom in just letting me out, then I realized that we had nowhere to run — the Citadel was swarming with Ther-lor who would attack immediat
ely at Sirak’s command.
I took a few steps toward Sirak, who gestured to his right. ‘Your opponent will be here in a moment, Aidan. I suggest you prepare yourself.’
I nodded and walked down the steps to my left. This fight didn’t concern me at all; I had already faced down several Ther-lor, fighting just one wasn’t going to be a problem at all.
‘Ah, here he is!’ Sirak exclaimed in his ghastly voice.
Through a door at the far end of the circular room, the Ther-lor walked in; I twirled my swords with confidence as I watched it. At first glance, he was clearly dressed in decayed and rotted Delmar armor, which was of little surprise. He was wielding a longsword and shield. As he got closer, the details became more and more apparent; the helmet he wore was large, with an eagle carved in the front. There was a long lock of hair flowing from the top of the helmet, which might once have been white, but was now a dark grey…
It can’t be…
‘What’s the matter, Aidan?’ Sirak asked in mock confusion. ‘Oh — do you know him or something? There’s a way we could tell for sure. Soldier, remove your helmet!’
The Ther-lor did exactly as he was told, dropping the helmet to the floor. The shoulder-length, silvery hair now hung in random strands, the piercing blue eyes were now blood red — but the one thing that could not be mistaken was the scar. Though the skin was as black as coal, the scar was still visible, running just below the right temple down to the corner of his mouth.
There was no mistaking who this Ther-lor once was.
Garridan.
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘No!’
‘Aidan…’ I heard Timor say.
Sirak cackled with laughter from the platform. ‘We have a deal, Aidan of Delmar. Attack, Sir Garridan!’
Garridan began to advance slowly toward me.
I couldn’t do this. I had to get through to him somehow…
‘Garridan — Garridan, please don’t do this — it’s me — it’s me, Aidan!’
The Roar of a Dragon Page 14