by J D Bowens
Consus kept running with Leiwyn and tucked the Pilgrim Stone tighter under his arm. They found their way back to the familiar veranda where they had split from his brothers. “There, that’s the stairwell we took,” he said. As he pointed with his staff, several soldiers emerged from the stairs and charged towards them. Consus gulped and went to hand the Pilgrim Stone to Leiwyn. “Here hold this for a moment-”
She did not heed him. Leiwyn stepped forward as the soldiers came closer and closer. She whispered an unintelligible phrase and swatted the air in front of her as if slapping an unseen face. The wall beside the soldiers slammed outward. It shoved them over the edge of the veranda to the courtyard below. Screams filled the air as they plummeted to the ground and Consus heard them muted by a resounding splat.
The wall moved back into position, and the veranda leading to the staircase was empty once more. “Where to from here?” Leiwyn asked.
Consus tucked the Pilgrim Stone back under his arm. “Down the stairs until we reach the prison. My brothers should meet us there.” They ran down the stairs, their boot heels clicking against the steps. Consus halted when they came to a section of the stairwell stained in rusty brown. Corpses, limbs, and pieces of armor littered the steps. He and Leiwyn tread carefully down the stairs slicked with blood. To his left the wall gave way to a gaping hole that opened to a throne room, a mess of stone and blood polluted the floor.
“What happened here?” he asked.
There was no time for an answer. The next set of stairs were damaged and crumbled. They bounded the cracked stairs with as light a step as possible. As they descended the final steps, Consus heard a familiar bird call whistle up the stairs. He paused himself and Leiwyn for a moment.
It’s a Grenloch Swallow. He whistled back on a high note.
“You need to work on your bird calls,” Kyran said.
Consus raced down the stairs and met his brothers on the final steps. Kyran, Ewan, and Altin stood with Milo in the dungeon. They looked tired and covered with sweat. A wave of relief overcame Consus when they collided in a clumsy hug. He fumbled with the staff and the Stone in his hands.
“Altin, what are you doing here?” Consus asked.
“Well, I really should ask you the same,” Altin replied. “I thought I might be able to leave you alone without you all getting into trouble.”
Kyran pointed at the orb under Consus’ arm. “Is that the Pilgrim Stone then?” he asked.
Consus hefted it in his hand. “Yes, but we have to go. There’s an army headed this way.”
“Where is Karinne?” Kyran asked.
Consus shook his head. “Zamari killed her. I couldn’t save her,” he said. Leiwyn said nothing but he saw her eyes were red with anger and sorrow.
“Gods, I’m sorry,” Kyran said. “She was a great warrior. We wouldn’t have been able to do this without her.”
Voices echoed from the stairwell above, and Consus could hear footsteps beating against the steps. “Let’s get out of here,” Ewan said.
Consus needed no greater encouragement. Together they raced down the dungeon hall to the door of the great cavern. Ewan crashed into the door, and it burst open. The Crimson Throne was still fixed in the center of the room. Though they were in a great hurry, Ewan led them along the wall to avoid the throne. Consus eyed the chair with suspicion as he came to the end of the cavern. He noticed that Altin was no longer beside him. He looked around the cavern and found Altin facing one of the walls of the cavern.
Altin murmured to the wall and drew several symbols on the wall. The symbols twinkled with an orange light before disappearing into the wall. Altin quickly walked to another end of the cavern and did the same thing.
“Altin,” Consus hissed, “What are you doing?”
“I came here to destroy the throne,” he said without distraction. He finished the spell and then joined Consus, jogging down the tunnel with him. “I prepared several explosive runes this morning. Hopefully, that will be enough.”
They arrived at a river where Kyran and Ewan were already pushing the boat into the water. Leiwyn and Milo sat inside. Consus waded through the water, placed the Stone in the boat and climbed inside as they held it steady. With everyone inside, they rowed out of the cave and into the main river.
“Where are we going?” Consus asked.
Kyran steered the boat down the river and avoided the large rocks along the banks. “Denipoor,” he replied. “We’ll be safe there. And we need to warn the king.”
Consus kept a wary eye on the sky above, watching for wounded dragons. “They might see us,” he said.
Leiwyn looked to the sky and appeared to understand his concern. “Not for long,” she said. She drew a symbol on the open palm of her hand. A small ball of white light appeared. She held it up to her face and blew against it. The light refracted into luminous multicolored rays of light that wrapped themselves around the brothers, Milo, Leiwyn and the boat. They shimmered for a moment and then disappeared. “Now if they look for us they will only see the water beneath us,” she explained.
Chapter 55
Synara knelt next to Zamari’s burned body. There was an enormous hole in her chest from where the lightning struck her. The flesh around it was burned, and Synara could see the charred internal organs. “Please,” Synara whispered. “Please come back, Mistress.” She cradled Zamari’s head in her hands, her skin cold to the touch.
She had been too overwhelmed with grief to stop Consus and the elf. They had escaped with the Pilgrim Stone. Even if I had stopped them, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t know how to use the Crimson Throne.
“Wake up, Mistress,” Synara begged. “This can’t all be for nothing.”
“Synara,” a voice called. She turned to see Dromedus standing at the top of the staircase. He rushed over and knelt beside Zamari. “What happened to her?”
Synara noted that he smelled of burnt flesh and his once polished armor was grimy and black. “They killed her,” she said as she covered her nose. “The boy killed her.” She sniffled and tried to pull herself together. “What happened to you? Where were you?” It sounded like an accusation, and she regretted saying it.
Dromedus did not appear offended. “It was the mage,” he replied. “He set my men and me on fire. I only just recovered.”
Amazing. He was struck by Mage Fire and did not die. Perhaps there is still some hope-
Zamari’s body lurched up from the ground. She groaned and wheezed. Synara squealed and fell back in surprise. Dromedus jumped up from the ground and reached for his sword.
Synara watched the hole in Zamari’s chest heal itself. The charred organs regained their color, and the flesh came back to life. The skin stretched and wove itself back together, sealing the hole. Zamari’s eyes opened as she gasped for air.
Synara crawled to her side and helped Zamari stand up. “Praise Nemoth,” she said. “I thought you were dead.”
“I was,” Zamari coughed. “But it is not my first time.” She waved Synara away as she balanced herself. Her face was without expression for a moment as she smoothed her dress, but a scowl overtook her when she looked down to the courtyard. “My babies,” she whimpered. “He killed my babies. Where is that insolent bastard now?”
Synara’s joy was replaced with fear. “Mistress, he escaped with the Pilgrim Stone.”
Zamari glowered at her. “You let him escape with the orb?”
“Forgive me, Mistress,” she stuttered. “I was overwhelmed. I didn’t think you’d recover. I didn’t know.”
Dromedus coughed and stepped forward. “It is I who failed you, Mistress,” he said. Synara felt a little relieved he had come to her defense. “I let my guard down for a moment, and they got passed me with the mage. It will not happen again. I have sent men after them through the tunnels-”
A thunderous explosion ripped through the air. Fire shot up from the well in the courtyard and blew it apart. Stone and clods of dirt flew into the air before it collapsed and sunk into the hol
e below. The Crimson Throne. It will be crushed by the collapsing earth.
For several moments there was only silence. Synara was too frightened to speak, afraid she might draw Zamari’s misplaced retribution. The army Zamari had gathered marched through the gates of the keep just in time to watch the dirt settle.
Zamari began to chuckle.
“Mistress, are you alright?” Synara asked.
Her chuckle became a howling laugh. Her laugh turned into an inhuman scream of rage, a roar that tore through the night sky. Synara felt her heart stop a moment and she covered her ears with her hands. She saw Dromedus do the same and backed away from Zamari. Synara also began to back away terrified of what her immortal Mistress might do next.
Zamari continued to scream and fell to her knees, precariously close to the edge of the keep. What is happening to her? Synara wondered. Has she been cursed? The silence was sudden and almost as jarring as Zamari’s screams.
“Captain,” Zamari said, “Take some men and dig out the throne.”
Synara and Dromedus exchanged a baffled look. “The Crimson Throne, Mistress?” he asked. “How can you be sure it’s intact?”
Zamari regarded him with a stiff laugh. “The throne is made of enchanted obsidian and dragon bone,” Zamari explained. “It can’t be destroyed so easily, you fool.”
“Yes, mistress. I’ll set some men to start digging immediately.” Dromedus began to walk down the stairs.
“Hold a moment.” Zamari turned to Dromedus. She pointed to the gathering soldiers below. “How long will it take you to organize these men from Moredei and Gairun?”
“At least a few days, m’lady.”
“Do it in three. We will march to Denipoor. I am sure that is where those fools are headed to now. They’ll inform the king. I can’t have the kingdom unite against us. We need the Pilgrim Stone to create an invincible army.”
Synara beamed as an idea came to mind. “We have friends in Denipoor that could stop them,” she said. “Agents in the Temple of Serun and swords in the palace.”
Zamari smiled, walked over and cradled Synara’s chin in her hands. “Yes, we do, child. Send word to our brothers and sisters lying in wait at the temple. Dromedus, inform our agents close to the king that now is the time to strike. Perhaps they can stop the brothers before they arrive.”
“M’lady, perhaps you should reconsider,” Dromedus interjected. “Our forces are not tested or strong enough to bring down the walls of the citadel. They could outlast us in a siege, never mind what the allied realms of the Northern Kingdom could do to us.”
Zamari spun and slapped Dromedus across the face. “Do not question my judgement, human.” Synara cringed as he stumbled back from the force of the blow. “Have some faith in the power of the god we follow. Do you think walls will hold me back when death itself cannot? Behold me.”
Synara watched as Zamari’s body contorted itself. Her limbs twisted in grotesque jerks and swelled. Bones and tendons snapped and popped to become massive reptilian legs. Zamari’s hands and feet grew into large claws with talons almost as large as any man.
Her fine smooth skin turned to rough rosy scales. Her beautiful unmarred face elongated outward and became a gaping maw with rows of sharp teeth. Small black bumps poked out from beneath her golden hair and became great black horns that curled behind her head. A tail took form at her back and stretched to the floor.
Zamari’s body continued to transform and grow even after there was nothing left of her. Even her robes twisted and gave way to enormous wings that stretched out behind her shoulders.
When she had finally stopped, Synara was breathless. “M-Mistress, you’re a dragon,” she said. She was uncertain though. Zamari was several times larger than any of the others she had seen. She occupied more than half of the roof of the keep with her body. Her smallest talon was as big as Dromedus. “I didn’t know that it was possible. That a person could be turned into a dragon.”
“It is a gift from Nemoth,” Zamari said. She spoke to Synara with her mind. “Know that our god is near and his power grows, or this would not be possible.” Synara knelt and bowed her head. She noticed Dromedus do the same. “Rise up and do what I have commanded. I must go collect my children.”
Zamari leapt into the night; the wind from her wings almost knocked Synara off her feet. She climbed into the sky and roared so that the soldiers below looked up in wonder and fear. She disappeared in the distance, becoming a shadow against the stars.
Synara beamed in amazement. “How marvelous. Did you know she could do that?”
Dromedus shook his head, his face filled with genuine shock. “I had no idea. This must be a sign. We shall overtake Denipoor with steel and fire,” he declared with renewed zeal.
Synara noticed the violent gleam in his eyes again. She did not like it, but she supposed this new attitude was from Nemoth. Confidence swelled within her as she followed him down from the roof, her faith restored. Nemoth, bless us.
THE END
About the Author
J.D. Bowens is a Fantasy Novelist from New England. He is the author of The Pilgrim Stone, The Fires of War, and Through the Veil - the first three books in Adventures in Amarant series.
When he's not writing epic fantasies, JD Bowens enjoys his time at the gym, summer trips with his wife, playing with his cat, the occasional D&D game, and training for the zombie apocalypse.
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