by Ben Wolf
Then he thought of the Crimson Flame cultists, and he swung. Of the wyvern knights who’d sided against him, and he swung. Of the lives he’d taken because he’d had to take them, and he swung.
A network of fissures filled the scorallite crystal now. Mehta and Lord Valdis continued their fracas, and Aeron saw blood pooling underneath them. There was no time.
He glanced up at Kallie and the dragon, both of whom trembled in the orange light, drifting somewhere between sleep and waking. If Aeron did this, he’d be releasing that dragon, too. Even if they managed to defeat Lord Valdis, they couldn’t hope to kill the dragon, too—not in the sorry condition they were in.
But maybe they could buy Kallie enough time to get out, at least. That would have to be enough.
Aeron thought of his father. He resurrected all of his memories of the cruel things Pa had said and did, of the way he’d treated Aeron over the years, of how Aeron had never measured up to Pa’s impossible standards. He gathered all of that angst into one final effort.
And he swung.
The scorallite shattered in a flash of green light.
When the final scorallite crystal went down, Mehta released his death grip on Lord Valdis. He’d latched onto him, digging his ice-forged knives into Lord Valdis’s body wherever he could, forcing them through his shadow armor when possible.
In return, Lord Valdis’s shadow knives had raked across Mehta’s arms, chest, and even his face, leaving several bleeding lacerations, some of them serious. Pain was his world, now, but it had been worth it. Aeron had destroyed the final crystal.
Lord Valdis shoved away from Mehta and made it to his feet, covered in blood as well. He stood there, staring at the shafts of orange light as they faded to nothing, clenching his shadow knives in his fists. Then the torches around the chamber reignited, filling the space with soft, golden light.
“You fools,” Lord Valdis uttered. “Do you realize what you’ve done?”
Mehta watched, unwilling to move as the dragon and Kallie both fell to the floor, dazed but very much alive. Neither showed any interest in or even awareness of their surroundings. Meanwhile, Aeron dropped Garrick’s hammer and hurried over to Kallie.
Lord Valdis turned back to face Mehta and Aeron. “You have accomplished nothing beyond inconveniencing me yet again. You stopped the ritual, but you could not overcome me. All that remains now is to try again in a month, on the next new moon. And next time, none of you will be around to stop me.”
Mehta’s eyes widened. Was Lord Valdis telling the truth? Had they really only succeeded in forcing him to try again?
Mehta didn’t know what to believe. All he knew was that Kallie was very much alive, and Aeron was tending to her. Mehta had held Lord Valdis at bay long enough to accomplish that much, at least.
The dragon stirred and shook its head at about the same time that Kallie stirred and shook hers.
Mehta noticed it and found it odd, but then again, the ritual had functioned, in part, to bond them together. It made sense on that level, at least.
But Lord Valdis’s claims troubled Mehta the most. Though he didn’t feel he could manage it, he pushed himself up to his knees and then slowly rose to his feet. Blood trickled from his plethora of wounds, and he felt lightheaded and weak, but he gripped his ice-forged knives tightly in his hands and faced Lord Valdis yet again.
Mehta didn’t know what condition Kent was in, Garrick was down and possibly dead, and Aeron couldn’t stop Lord Valdis alone. Mehta had to try to help.
Lord Valdis looked him over. “You really are something to behold, Xyonate. I sincerely wish we had met under different circumstances. With all that you are capable of, I could’ve made you rich.”
Mehta wanted to respond that he never would’ve worked for someone like Lord Valdis, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. As a Xyonate, he would’ve blindly followed orders whether there was coin involved or not.
So instead, Mehta just motioned Lord Valdis forward, hoping he’d find a way to bring him down.
Lord Valdis just laughed and shook his head. “You really don’t understand, do you? You’ll never win. It’s impossible.”
As Mehta watched, the icy blue slits and cuts and punctures along Lord Valdis’s armor sealed up, replaced by perfect, black shadow. Then that shadow armor abandoned Lord Valdis’s body entirely, revealing the same black robe he’d worn earlier.
There wasn’t a scratch on him.
They’d done all that, and accomplished nothing, as Lord Valdis had said. Either he had healed himself, or the only blood in their altercation had been Mehta’s.
Defeat filled Mehta’s chest. Lord Valdis was right. He had failed. They all had.
His legs weakened, his arms slumped, and he crumpled to the floor, just breathing. There was no way to win, and nothing he did mattered.
Mehta’s thirst assaulted his mind, cursing him for giving up, for quitting. But it wasn’t giving up if there had never been any chance for success to begin with.
He reached into the top of his tunic and pulled out the triangle-shaped pendant from Ferne. He wouldn’t be able to keep his promise to her after all. He prayed she would find a way to forgive him.
Mehta’s limbs went limp, and he lay there, on his side, watching as Lord Valdis turned toward Aeron and Kallie, unable to intervene.
Aeron couldn’t believe it. Everything he’d fought for, all the trials and struggles he’d endured, all the battles he’d fought, and all the men he’d killed to save his sister had amounted to nothing. He’d once again freed Kallie from Lord Valdis’s grasp only to prove himself totally incapable of keeping her from slipping back into his possession.
She was going to die a month from now, in the same ritual, and Lord Valdis would still gain unspeakable power. All Aeron and the other Blood Mercs had done was delay it at the cost of their own lives.
Lord Valdis strolled toward Aeron with a devilish grin on his face, and a familiar blade made of glowing violet magic extended from his right hand.
“Aeron?” Kallie’s voice filled his ears.
He looked at her. She was in good shape, overall—not malnourished, not injured or wounded. Her big blue eyes gleamed with recognition, then they shifted to terror as they searched the chamber around them. When she noticed Aeron’s bleeding shoulder, her gaze fixed on it.
“Your shoulder…”
“I’m fine, Kallie,” Aeron said.
Lord Valdis drew ever closer.
“Kallie, we don’t have much time together.” Aeron tried to resist the tears that stung at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t. They streamed down his cheeks as he told her, “I tried, Kallie. Gods, how I tried. If you only knew…”
She cupped his face, and tears stained her cheeks as well. “I know, big brother. I know.”
“…but I failed you,” Aeron continued. He struggled to maintain his composure. “I… I couldn’t save you.”
Kallie stared at him, her face contorted with sadness just like his. “It’s alright, Aeron.”
“I’m sorry.” Aeron sniffled and cleared his throat. “I guess I get to die for you after all.”
Lord Valdis stopped before them, still wielding the glowing violet blade. “If it’s any consolation, you may take comfort in knowing that you will walk the path of shadows together. Your essences will be forever joined in service of my ambitions.”
Aeron’s tears stopped, and he glared up at Lord Valdis. His voice flat, he said, “It’s really not.”
Lord Valdis shrugged. “Too bad.”
“You can’t hurt him.” Kallie pulled Aeron back and positioned herself in front of him. “I won’t let you hurt him.”
Next to Aeron and Kallie, the dragon twitched and moved. It was waking up, too. Aeron briefly considered it might be better to let the dragon kill him instead of Lord Valdis. At least it would make for a more epic death.
But when Aeron glanced over and met the dragon’s red-eyed gaze, he reconsidered. The sight of the dragon rega
ining its cognition terrified him, and he decided that dying by Lord Valdis’s blade was preferable after all.
“That isn’t up to you,” Lord Valdis countered. “Now move aside, or I will move you.”
“I said,” Kallie’s voice took on a dark tone, “I won’t let you hurt him.”
“And I said, move.”
Something dark and black and huge shifted in Aeron’s periphery. He didn’t dare glance over again. Gods, what have I awakened?
“No,” Kallie replied, her voice as hard as dragon scales.
Lord Valdis snarled and bent down and reached for her with his left hand.
Then the dragon lunged, and Aeron couldn’t help but watch his own death coming.
But rather than attacking Aeron, the dragon snatched Lord Valdis into its massive jaws instead.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lord Valdis tried to resist the dragon’s jaws. He flared with green flames, he jabbed at it with his violet blade, and he hurled red barbs at it from his free hand. But he was already in the dragon’s mouth, and it was already too late.
The dragon chomped down on Lord Valdis again, and blood squirted from his torso and splattered along the floor. He shrieked as his bones snapped.
Still lying on the floor, weak and fighting to stay conscious, Mehta watched as the dragon devoured Lord Valdis in three bites—the first bite where it had snatched him away from Kallie, one to break his body once and for all, and then one more to ferry Lord Valdis to the Underworld via its stomach.
When the bottoms of Lord Valdis’s boots disappeared down the dragon’s throat, Mehta smiled wider than he’d ever smiled before. But when the dragon roared afterward, his smile vanished.
Then the dragon rumbled around violently, shaking the floor and the walls in a fit of rage.
Aeron and Kallie scrambled away as the dragon slammed its meaty paws onto the floor. It arched its serpentine neck and belched a stream of fire at the lofted ceiling.
Was Lord Valdis somehow doing this? Was he alive and trying to break out of the dragon’s gut?
Or was it something else?
Mehta’s relief at Lord Valdis’s demise vanished, replaced by an ancient fear ingrained in every human soul—the fear of an alpha predator seeking prey.
And they were all prey.
Aeron led Kallie across the chamber, and together they helped Mehta to his feet and over to Kent, who was still alive but not faring well.
“Where is Garrick?” Kent clutched at his chest.
“Dead, maybe,” Aeron replied. “I don’t know for sure. It didn’t look good.”
“Lord Valdis is dead,” Mehta replied.
“Yes, I saw.” Kent winced as he sat up, gingerly. He nodded toward the dragon. “Though our predicament does not seem to have improved.”
“I’m sorry…” Kallie said. “I thought I could control it.”
Aeron stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“The dragon. We’re bonded… sort of.” Kallie touched the mark on the back of her neck. “I can feel it, and it can feel me. Our essence is shared now.”
Aeron marveled at her. Lord Valdis had been telling the truth about that much, at least. But did that mean… “So you told the dragon to eat Lord Valdis?”
Kallie nodded. “I’m sorry. There was nothing else I could do.”
“Don’t be sorry!” Aeron grabbed her by her shoulders. “You saved us both.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I made everything worse. So much worse.”
Aeron looked past her at the dragon. It had noticed Garrick’s body and was nudging it with its snout. Garrick wasn’t responding, and the sight of it sickened Aeron.
“You have to kill it,” Kallie said.
Aeron blinked at her. “How?”
“Fjorst’s cannon,” Kent replied. “We must put that bolt of ice right through its black heart.”
Aeron glanced between Kent and Kallie. “But if we kill the dragon, does that mean…?”
Kallie didn’t respond, nor did Kent or Mehta.
Aeron shook his head. “No. Lord Valdis is dead. He’s gone. I’m not letting you die, too.”
“It must be done,” Kent said.
“I’ll get the cannon.” Mehta forced himself upright and staggered toward where it lay on the floor, near one of the walls.
As Mehta moved, the dragon abandoned its study of Garrick’s limp form. Instead, it approached the nearest wall with a window, reared up on its hind legs, and slammed against it with its paws. The entire tower shook again, and the wall gave way by at least a foot.
Aeron’s shoulder ached, and his back pain threatened to resurge as well. But he would deal with all the pain in the world if only it meant there was another way.
“Kallie, I can’t let this happen.” Aeron’s voice shook with emotion once again. “You don’t know what I did to try to save you.”
“I know, Aeron. I know you moved mountains and slew great beasts and risked everything for me, even if I don’t know the specifics, yeah?” Kallie gave him a big, crooked-toothed smile, and Aeron realized how much he’d missed seeing it. “I know. I promise you, I know, and it means everything to me that you did it.”
Mehta returned with the cannon and passed it off to Kent, who had managed to get back up to his feet and now leaned up against a wall with the cannon atop his shoulder. He aimed it at the dragon.
“Wait,” Aeron said. “Stop. We’re not doing this. We’ll find another way.”
The dragon rammed its paws against the wall again, and the stones gave even more. One of them dropped out of sight from near the window.
Kallie shook her head. “There is no other way. If that dragon escapes, it’ll torch the entire continent. I can’t control it, so we have to stop it, and we need to do it now.”
“No.” Aeron clenched his fists and looked at Kallie. “I’m not letting this happen. I swore I would save you, even if it cost me my life. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work.”
Kallie took Aeron’s face in her hands again, and she planted a kiss on his cheek like she always did. “Aeron, big brother… Don’t give your life for me. You’ve already done that. I want you to live your life for me instead.”
Once again, tears streamed down Aeron’s face. How could he let his little sister, eleven years younger than him, give so much more than he ever could?
Even trying to stand was hard for Mehta. He no longer trusted his legs, especially with the dragon slamming against the floor and the walls. Between the blood loss and the commotion, he barely managed to stay upright.
As the discussion about what to do continued, he touched the pendant Ferne had given him again. If Kent could kill that dragon with the cannon, Mehta may yet get to see her again—if he survived the trip home.
But Kallie—she’d be gone forever.
The dragon pounded on the wall again, and it shuddered but still didn’t break.
Aletian craftsmanship and architecture, Mehta mused.
It didn’t sit well with Mehta what they would have to do, but the thought of never seeing Kallie again bothered him the most. He’d wasted so many opportunities to talk to her, to let her know what he felt. Now it was too late.
Almost too late.
There was still time. Kent and Aeron were still arguing about what to do. This was Mehta’s chance—his final chance—to do what he feared most.
He swallowed the lump in his throat, faced her, and said, “Kallie?”
She looked at him with sadness in her eyes, and it nearly killed him to see her that way.
Worse yet, Kent and Aeron stopped their fight and turned toward him as well.
Mehta almost gave up right then and there, but he didn’t. He ignored them and kept his focus on Kallie.
“I just want to say…” He’d thought about his words for a month. Rehearsed them. Fine-tuned them. Sharpened them.
And now, of course, he couldn’t remember any of them. But Xyonates—and former Xyonates—were good at thinking on their
feet, so he improvised.
“I’m sorry I never talked to you,” he said. “I always wanted to, but I was afraid. I wish I hadn’t waited so long. I would’ve liked to get to know you better.”
The sadness in Kallie’s gaze brightened with a shock of hope, and she smiled her beautiful crooked smile at him. “I would’ve liked that, too. Maybe in the next life.”
Mehta’s weak heart thrummed to life, and he smiled back at her. “Maybe.”
On the far side of the room, the dragon changed tactics and blasted the wall with fire, as if reminding them it was still there.
“Aeron,” Kent adjusted the cannon on his shoulder, “we have no other choice.”
The dragon slammed its paws into the wall again where it had just breathed its fire, and this time it knocked a huge section out the stones. They had to act now, or it would be too late.
“Do it,” Aeron said. He immediately regretted saying it, but they were all right. It had to be done.
“I do not have a clear shot,” Kent said. “Can you get it to turn around? Someone?”
Mehta’s shuriken sliced through the air and carved small lacerations in the dragon’s scales. It gave a short, higher-pitched roar, and it turned back as Mehta’s shuriken returned to him.
Then it lowered its head and charged toward them with its wings flared out.
Aeron tensed, and he took hold of Kallie’s hand. “Take the shot, Kent.”
The dragon hurtled toward them, growing larger with each hammering step. It opened its mouth wide in a deafening bellow, and its molten throat glowed orange and yellow. The floor quaked with each of its heavy footsteps.
Aeron cursed. “Take the shot, Kent!”
Stark white light gleamed from the cannon, and then a bolt of brilliant blue streamed forth. It shot past the dragon’s head and struck the center of its torso.
The dragon screeched and immediately crashed to the floor. It skidded to a halt no more than twenty feet from the Blood Mercs’ position, then it exhaled a final breath of smoke and went still.