Knight Fire

by Brad Clark

  With a gentleness that seemed odd for handling weapons of war, Glaerion took the swords and set them upon the table.

  Glaerion continued, “The power of the Web of Magic comes in many forms. One form is in the release of its power through a spell that is invoked by the spellcaster. We can also create simple illusions that continually draw from the Web of Magic to project an image that the spellcaster wishes others to see. Like the door that protects the king’s chamber.”

  “Or the wall that hid the Ark of Life in the castle at South Karmon.”

  “Right. Also, the power of magic can be drawn forth and intertwined permanently with matter. That is what we are about to do.”

  “If you are to fight dragons, then you will need a weapon that can slice through their scales. No Human weapon can do such a thing. And they are immune to magic, as you are.”

  “Dragons are immune to magic? But Glaerion, you cast a spell on it when we were fighting it?”

  Glaerion shook his head. “The spell was not directly upon the dragon. I cast a shield spell that turned the air in front of it as hard as a rock. The spell temporarily changed the physical properties of the air but did not directly affect the dragon. They are immune to magic directly attacking it, but it is not immune to those things that magic affected. Like your sword. This spell is an old spell of war that our ancestors cast upon their weapons to make them stronger and sharper. If the spell holds, with these swords, you will truly be the greatest swordsman who ever lived. No creature of this earth, or beyond, would be safe from its edge.”

  “If it holds? What does that mean?”

  Glaerion glanced at Hallendrielle, who was looking down at her feet. “If the spell does not hold, then it will be because the spellcasters failed.”

  “Failed?” Elissa asked, seeing the solemn look on Hallendrielle’s face.

  “It will kill us if we fail.”

  “Maybe we should find another way,” Elissa said, fear clearly on her face.

  King Illichian shook his head. “If it is you who are fighting dragons and the minions of the Deceiver, then you must have the weapons to defeat them. This is the only option available.” He stepped up to the table and looked over the swords. After a deep breath, he held out his hands. “Glaerion, Hallendrielle, take my hands. I will recite the words of the spell. You will both direct your energy through me.”

  “My king,” Glaerion said. “That is the most dangerous part of this casting. It should be me that recites the spell. I am stronger.”

  King Illichian glanced at Glaerion. “That may be true, but it is I that will take the risk. Let us begin.”

  Conner took Elissa’s hand and stood behind the three Elves. Fear came over him. The fear wasn’t for his own safety or his own life, but for that of his friends. It didn’t matter much to him that if they failed it would make it nearly impossible for them to defeat the Deceiver. It meant that his new friends would be dead.

  The words of the spell poured out of the king’s mouth. Unlike most recitations of spells that were but mere whispers, this incantation was loud. As the king spoke in Elvish, Conner did not understand anything that was being said. The words were mysterious but musical. It was almost as if the king was singing the incantation of the spell instead of speaking it.

  Hallendrielle suddenly shouted and dropped to one knee. Her eyes were squeezed closed as she forced the energy of the Web of Magic through her body and into the king’s. Glaerion stood stoically, his eyes closed and his jaw firmly clenched. While he still held onto their hands, the king reached his hands forward and touched the swords. A red and yellow light flashed as he touched the metal, temporarily blinding Conner. When his vision came back, the bright light had faded, but he could still see a dull, fuzzy spot directly in front of him. The king drew his hands along the blade, and the light, which had changed to a pulsating red light, followed. Hallendrielle, still holding onto the king’s hand dropped to her other knee. Sweat poured down Glaerion’s face, drenching his back. When he started to grunt, Conner became nervous.

  With painful slowness, the king pulled the red light down to the tip of the blade and back. Conner wanted to urge him on to be faster, as he could see Hallendrielle starting to fade out and Glaerion was not far behind.

  Suddenly, the king released their hands and stumbled backward right into Conner’s arms. Conner tried to stand him up, but his eyes were closed. Gently, he laid him down onto the hard ground.

  Glaerion looked back at Hallendrielle. Breathing heavily, he stepped over to her to be sure she was okay. With a sharp nod of her head, she dropped down from her knees and landed on her bottom. She put her head in her hands while she caught her breath.

  “Is he breathing?” Glaerion asked Conner.

  Conner touched the king’s chest and could feel it move up and down. He nodded his head.

  With careful reverence, they carried the king to his bed.

  Elissa pulled the bed’s covers over him and touched his forehead. “He is burning up.”

  “He went right to the brink,” Glaerion said. “Since the cast did not kill him, he will recover. But it will take some time.”

  “Did it work?” Conner asked.

  To answer, Glaerion walked around the clutter of the room until he found an iron bar as long as his arm. He set it on the table.

  “Try a sword on that. Cut through it.”

  “If it doesn’t break the blade, it will certainly dull the edge,” Conner said. “And it certainly won’t cut through it.”

  “Try.”

  Conner took one of the swords in a two-handed grip and stepped back away from the table to take careful aim. He gave Glaerion one last look before he struck at the iron bar.

  A bright white light flashed as he struck the iron. He expected a sharp sting when the sword struck the iron bar, but he hardly felt anything. The blade became embedded deep into the table. The iron bar was sliced in two pieces. The surprise caused him to leave the sword blade stuck in the table, and he took a step back.

  Glaerion took the sword by the handle and rocked it back and forth until it was freed. He ran his finger across the blade, which easily sliced through skin, drawing blood.

  “It worked,” Glaerion said. “Tomorrow we will rest and the day after we will go to the ship to take us back to your kingdom. We may not have an army to fight with us, but we have a weapon.”

  Conner took the sword from Glaerion and looked it over closely as well. There was not even the hint of damage to the blade. The fear that he felt did not go away. It stayed because he knew that the fate of the world was going to rest on his shoulders and those of his friends.

  Chapter Nine

  Farrus walked up to the dragon. It lurched for him, but the Stone Ogres had a firm grasp on the chains that bound the dragon. The great flying beast was pulled back down to the ground and yanked backward as the Stone Ogres gave a simultaneous pull on their chains. A collar had been locked around the dragon’s neck, and a band of iron was wrapped around the beast’s belly, which also held in its wings. Attached to the collar were four chains. Each of these chains was threaded through a loop attached to the belly band and then fanned out to either side of the dragon. The two Stone Ogres stood on either side, holding a chain in each hand. As the dragon thrust and bucked, they simply pulled harder, their large arms straining, but holding the dragon down.

  “You can fight all you want, but my ogres will hold you tight. I do not fear your golden-eyed friend, so if I kill you, and she seeks vengeance, I will be ready.”

  The green eyes of the dragon narrowed and it let out a low growl.

  “I care not for your life, but having your friend doing my bidding is helpful. I know that once you are dead, it will turn against me. But by then, my power will be unstoppable, and I will be able to crush her neck with but a snap of my fingers.”

  Farrus stepped backward. The dragon had been dragged through the city until they reached the site of the castle. Rubble from the city’s walls had been added to
the rubble from the castle, making large piles of rock. The lower floors of the original castle had collapsed, sending much of the rock falling down below ground level. It actually worked to his benefit, as it would provide a better foundation for his new tower.

  Standing where the castle’s outwalls once stood, Farrus closed his eyes and lifted his hands into the air. He did not need a book to read from, as he only needed the power of the Ark of Life. Even though he did not have access to the full potential of the ancient relic, the power that he could tap into was immense. Gripping the Ark with one hand, the words of the spell flowed from his lips as they came into his mind.

  The air around the Stone Ogres and dragon started to move and swirl, building up a large cloud of dust and fine debris. Then the larger stones and rocks started to move. The force of the winds started to pull on him, but he was far enough away that he wasn’t pulled into the spinning vortex. Everything else within the castle’s former courtyard was pulled into it until it became a spinning wall of stone. With each revolution, the larger rocks were crushed and pulverized into a fine dust. Within moments, he could no longer see the ogres or the dragon.

  A handful of curious goblins who helped forge the dragon’s collar got too close and were pulled screaming into the vortex. Their screams only lasted a moment before their bodies were pulverized into dust.

  He could feel the moment when the spinning dust cloud was ready. He did not know why or how, nor did he care. He just knew it was time. More words came from his lips, and the vortex moved upwards towards the sky. As it moved upward, it left a circular stone wall. Piece-by-tiny-piece, the tower was built from the ground up. Forged together from the most basic parts of matter, the tower grew up into the air as one solid piece of stone. Stronger than any stonemason could make, it would survive any assault by any means. Even a dragon’s breath could not penetrate the stone of the tower.

  As the tower was built up from the outside, the inside was constructed as well. Its innermost chamber would be open all the way to the top, but around the outside of that chamber would be many stories of rooms. In time, he would find ways to furnish it, but first, he needed it constructed. Luxuries would be for later when he ruled over the world.

  Two hundred feet above him, higher than any castle had ever been built, he capped the top of the tower with a smooth, flat roof. As the roof was put in place, the spinning vortex dissipated, leaving him weak and out of breath. Even using the power of the Ark, he was drained. Anger grew inside as he knew that he should not be feeling this way. If he had the full power of the Ark, he could move right into the next step of his plan. Instead, he would have to rest and recover.

  With a smile of success, Farrus looked up to see his tower in all its glory. Soon, the city around him would be flattened and made into a sanctuary to worship him. Or it would be an altar upon which he would sacrifice the people of this world. He did not care either way. His only concern was ultimate rule. Finally, he would have his victory over the Creator. It would be a small victory, but it would be the first one. And it would be the first of many.

  A goblin tribal leader ambled up to him. With one leg significantly longer than the other, he rocked back and forth as he walked. Farrus had been told his name once, but he did not care. They were expendable creatures that all looked the same to him.

  “Goblin!” Farrus called out sharply.

  “Yes your Eminence,” the goblin said, dropping to a knee and bowing his head. His hands shook.

  “You are commander of a tribe of soldiers, are you not? Have you come to report?”

  “My tribe, the Jimmar tribe, and the Hak tribe are ready to march west. We number fifty-three thousand.”

  “Then march.”

  The goblin did not move. He glanced up, saw Farrus looking at him, then quickly glanced down.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Your Eminence,” the goblin started with a stammer. His thin lips quivered, and his hands shook. “Our numbers are many, but the creatures we fight do not fall so easily. They use strong and sharp steel. And they kill many with their arrows.”

  “You fight Humans,” Farrus snapped back. “They are weak and frail. You have sharp teeth and sharp claws. Do those not do you any good?”

  The goblin furiously nodded his head. “Yes, of course. But only if we get close enough. For every one of them we kill, many tens of us fall.”

  Farrus walked over to the goblin and grasped him around the neck. The words of a spell were spoken, and blisters started to appear on the goblin’s face. An instant later, he started to scream, scratching and clawing at his face. Farrus held onto the neck tightly, but not too tightly. He wanted it to feel as much pain and agony as possible. The goblin’s eyes bulged out as the screams grew and the blisters grew. Soon, the blisters bubbled and started to pop, spitting out pus and blood. The goblin fought harder, kicking and scratching at Farrus. With a sharp squeeze, he crushed the goblin’s neck and released it to fall on the ground, writhing in its final death throws.

  With his eyes looking down at the goblin’s body, he whispered, “It is time I called forth my generals to lead my army. I need soldiers who are willing to sacrifice for me and not give me excuses.”

  He said nothing more, nor did he give the dead goblin another thought. His mind reached out to three small Stone Ogres who were wandering the city. They answered the call of the master and came running, ignoring anything in their path. Several goblins were crushed under their feet because they were too slow getting out of the way.

  Farrus followed the ogres into his new tower. The larger ogres would not have fit through the open archway, but the small ones ducked and squeezed in. If they had a brain that could process surprise or any emotion, they might have been shocked to see a dragon chained in the middle of the tower. Two larger ogres, who would never be able to get out of the tower, stood on either side of the dragon, holding firmly onto large chains.

  “Hold it down,” Farrus said. They might have heard him, but they did not know what his words meant. But when his thoughts were given to them, they stepped forward, following Farrus’ commands. Farrus pulled out a long dagger from under the folds of his robe.

  The dragon didn't flinch or move as the ogres moved towards it, but its eyes held firmly onto Farrus.

  Farrus smiled at it and said, “Do not worry. This will only hurt for a moment.”

  The large ogres pulled even tighter on the chain to keep the dragon from moving or fighting back while the three small ogres ambled up to the large beast. Each took hold of one of the dragon’s back legs. The dragon tried to kick itself free, but the stone grasp of the ogres would not be broken.

  Farrus, dagger held out in front of him, smiled as he approached. Two of the smaller ogres held the back leg still. Long, thin scales protected the dragon’s skin. Unlike the thick, ridged scales of the body, these scales were malleable. He ran his razor sharp dagger across one, and it didn’t even leave a mark. Their flexibility did not diminish their strength.

  Again, the dragon struggled to kick its leg free, but the ogres held it still.

  “We can do this the hard way,” Farrus said to the dragon. “I can just chop off your leg and get what I need. Is that what you want? Or you can just relax and let me take what I need without doing permanent damage. Well, at least not much.”

  Farrus was unsure that the dragon understood him until it turned its head away. Without hesitation, he worked quickly. The scales were layered across one another and attached to the underlying skin. He slid his dagger underneath the scale, slicing the membrane that connected scale to skin. The dragon flinched at the pain, but it did not fight back. He sliced all around the scale until it came loose, exposing its pink skin.

  “Now, this might hurt,” Farrus said. He sliced the dagger across the exposed skin.

  The dragon flinched at the pain and kicked, but the ogres continued to firmly hold the leg. It turned its head to look back at him and let out a low growl. Farrus ignored it. The large ogres yanked
on the chains to pull the dragon’s head away.

  The dark red blood of the dragon oozed out of the wound. Not wanting to waste one drop, he quickly put a small glass jar underneath the wound to catch all the blood he could.

  ***

  The wind was strong atop the tower, whipping his black robe around his body. A light misty rain had started to fall, but he hardly noticed. Around him, he had drawn a circle with the dragon’s blood. If the rain became any harder, it might disrupt the circle making it impossible for him to complete the spell and call forth his generals. Fortunately, because the dragon’s blood was thick, it would take a hard downpour to wash it away.

  The other issue with it being thick was that it took the entire jar of blood to complete the circle.

  As the circle was being drawn, Farrus had begun to think that there wasn't going to be enough. The dragon had fought hard and continued to fight after the wound was sealed up. It had tried vainly to break from the ogre's grasp, but it was too strong. Even if it did break from the ogre's grasp, his tower was imbued with magic that would make the stone stronger than the dragon. It would not have escaped, but it would have been quite a fight to bind it back into its chains.

  Farrus took in a deep breath and stepped towards the center of the circle. He had drawn it around him, making sure that he stayed inside of it the entire time. In one hand he gripped the Ark, squeezing it as hard as he could. As the spell left his lips, he could feel the gem heat up. With each passing instant, the aura of electricity grew until all his hairs stood up on end. His hands began to shake, and a light-headedness started to overcome him. He knew what was happening, but there was nothing that he could do about it. If he had the full power of the Ark, it would take no effort to open the portal to his realm. But with only half the Ark, his body might not be able to handle the full flow of magic. The irony of his possible failure crossed his mind for a brief moment. He needed his generals to help him conquer the world and find the rest of the Ark. But to call all his generals here, he really needed to have both parts.