Defiler

by Isaac Hooke

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll give you fifty drachmae if you can make fire from that ball of ice.”

  “You’re on,” she said. She slid her hands over the surface in a wiping motion. The ice slowly changed shape—he realized she was melting and compressing the material with her body heat. In moments, she had created what looked like a lens, and she held it above the dry grass that grew on the upper banks of the stream, beneath a tree.

  The rays of the sun caught on that lens, and focused into a point on one of the blades of grass. In a few moments, a small plume of smoke erupted from the point, and then the grass ignited.

  She turned toward Malem and smiled widely. “Fire from ice.” She tossed the lens aside. “Now I’ll take my fifty drachmae, please.”

  “Cheater!” He scooped her up in his arms, and she giggled joyously. “You used magic to shape that lens!”

  “Not at all,” she said. “It was all body heat.”

  “How about I show you some body heat shaping of my own?” Malem said slyly. “And we consider that payment in lieu of the fifty drachmae.”

  She gave him a wanton look. “Deal.”

  He was jerked violently in place, and his mind snapped back to the present. Nemertes had just dived beneath the claws of one of the incoming Golds. Its belly was exposed within reach above Malem.

  Balethorn was quite literally yelling in his grasp. He stabbed upward, and the blade bit into the armored underbelly, cutting a long line that caused a good portion of its guts to bulge forth. The scream that the Gold dragon issued was so terrible that Malem almost felt bad for what he had done.

  Almost.

  What’s happening to me?

  He forced himself to focus on the battle. He began chanting the mantra that helped him in times like these.

  I serve Vorgon and no one else. I serve Vorgon and no one else.

  Yes, weakling, Vorgon’s voice came in his head. You serve me.

  Ziatrice activated her shield, extending it around Malem as the stricken dragon’s tail flung down upon the two riders. The tail deflected from the magic, and then the dragon plunged into a nearby building before crashing to the ground.

  Nemertes reached the parapets, where more human mages waited alongside human soldiers. The latter were clad in beaklike helmets and surcoats bearing the symbol of a talon on fire.

  Send in the Eldritch mages and fighters, Malem ordered Nemertes.

  The big dragon relayed the telepathic order, and some of the Blues with her dove toward the parapets. Nemertes cleared the way for them by launching threads of light magic into the fray, magic that looped between the waiting humans, causing them to implode within their armor and robes when it touched. She also used her ice magic, creating a slick layer underneath the feet of the remaining soldiers and mages, causing them to slip. They struck that frozen walkway, and were unable to get up—it was simply too slippery. Nemertes must have also debuffed them, because they launched no magical attacks in return.

  When the Blues with Nemertes grew near, the Eldritch riding them leaped onto the parapet, turning invisible as they fell. Soon after, unseen blades began to impale the human defenders who had survived Nemertes’ attack.

  More human soldiers and mages rushed forth, spilling onto the walkway from nearby barracks.

  Weyanna swooped low, breathing fire at the newcomers. Soldiers and mages yelled in agony as their bodies lit up like torches, and several tumbled over the wall as they blindly flailed about. Mauritania launched big green maelstroms of Eldritch magic that disintegrated humans in clumps, mercifully ending the lives of any who were aflame. That particular disintegration magic worked best on humans, Malem had learned, but not so much dragons.

  As Weyanna passed over the parapet, Mauritania became a green smear that extended toward the walkway below. She rematerialized at the bottom of that smear as she completed her teleportation, and then she drew her two daggers Tiercel and Peregrine—which were equivalent to short swords, given her stature—and used them to skewer the enemies in her path. She moved forward, weaving between her opponents in a blur, striking out with those blades. She towered over her enemies and hewed them down.

  The invisible scimitars of her companions pierced the armor of other soldiers and mages all around Mauritania as she continued her grim dance, and when she had hewn through five opponents, her body became another green smear and she teleported back up to her saddle before Weyanna completed her pass.

  Couldn’t resist, Mauritania sent Malem.

  The invisible blades of the Eldritch continued to strike down the survivors on the parapet.

  Look at the tiny humans, Nemertes said. Are they fighters, or are they orangutans scratching their arses in the middle of taking a dump? Pathetic.

  If you could not see your opponent— Malem began.

  Then I would strike out violently, and randomly, in all directions! Nemertes said. I wouldn’t just stand there like a moron, waiting for a blade to pass though my belly!

  It’s easy to comment on what you’d do, when you’re not actually down there, living it, Malem said.

  In moments there were no humans left standing. The Eldritch would be dispersing now, racing toward the connecting towers. Their mission: to infiltrate the keep while still invisible, and subdue any dragons that remained in human form or otherwise inside, ultimately taking the keep.

  More Metals rushed outside from the nearby towers and took to the air, transforming into dragons as they leaped from the balconies.

  “For the king!” some of them shouted.

  “For Khaledonius!” others screamed.

  Nemertes and the other dragons dealt with these dragons easily—they were nobles, most likely, and unused to war. Their attacks were uncoordinated and weak—they’d rush the invaders one at a time, and succumb to the overwhelming death the Blues and their riders rained down. Perhaps some of those nobles had been driven outside in fear when they had witnessed the unseen blades of the Eldritch hewing through their servants. Or perhaps they thought to die bravely.

  Nemertes and her party were soon forced to turn away from the keep to face the copious number of Metals that had returned to defend their city. Malem counted at least thirty out there.

  We’re always outnumbered, Malem commented.

  Just the way we like it, Ziatrice said, tightening an arm around his waist.

  Outnumbered, perhaps, Nemertes said. But not outmatched.

  Malem steered Nemertes toward the city wall, but the incoming Metals cut them off. Most of the defenders were already injured in some way, their scales littered with bites or talon marks, and so Nemertes spat venom and breathed ice, concentrating on any wounds she saw. The enemy dragons unleashed their flames upon her torn-up back in turn, and he felt the pain rising afresh inside her.

  She shot out light magic after one particularly nasty bout of fire drilled into her. The aim was off, and it reflected from the intact scales of the Metals before her. She tried again, and this time it dug into the wounds of her enemies, causing sickening craters in the flesh as the wounds imploded. The stricken dragons fell, shrieking.

  Malem fed stamina to Nemertes, as well as Weyanna and Abigail. Two more Blues fell before the party was able to break free, and finally they crossed the city walls and rejoined the main battle outside.

  By then the dark army of Vorgon had climbed the shoulder of the mountain so that his vast host stood before the base of Ademan. Earth mages among the host constructed temporary structures with their magic to scale the steep slopes and reach the walls: vines and trees grew in profusion, intertwining among one another to form ramps and ladders. Shouting with bloodlust, oraks led the charge up those structures. Dwarves followed just behind them.

  The dread lord itself stood on the field below. The Balor could not fly, despite the demonic wings that grew from its back—a vestige of some earlier form. Or perhaps Balors could fly in the Black Realm, their native domain.

  Vorgon was tall enough to hit the lower portion of the
city walls on the mountain with its huge, fiery ax. The Balor repeatedly struck the solid gold structure with its weapon, and carved large, gaping dents into the metal.

  At the same time, the Balor also sent up great streams of Darkness from its chest, which flowed up the mountain and over the walls like waves breaking upon a rocky shore. When it crossed into the city beyond, that Darkness would seek out targets in the streets and buildings, weaving to and fro like heat-seeking tendrils of death. The Balor had grown in power since Breaking Malem, and the intensity and range of those Dark streams went far beyond what the armies of the Alliance had seen on the front lines. Vorgon had truly become death embodied.

  There would be no armies marching down the mountain to greet the black host, not just because of the incoming waves of Darkness, but because the dragons didn’t have any ground forces as far as Malem knew. However, some of the Metals did make strafing runs across the black ranks, unleashing flames that lit up long swaths of the enemy. Some of the Metals were hit by green darts of Eldritch magic, and flew unsteadily away from the battle before crashing into the ground.

  Some of the Metals attacked Vorgon himself, swooping down to rake the huge demon’s back with their claws. For some, Vorgon simply adjusted his wings to slough them off; others he swatted away with his tail. Eldritch mages lingering within the ranks of the army below used magic to get rid of the more persistent ones: their green darts ripped into the creatures and forced them to let go. The stricken Metals would often plunge into the thick host below, where they would be summarily butchered.

  Nemertes swerved suddenly and bit into the neck of a Metal that flew past too closely. When Nemertes pulled away, her jaws brought with them a huge chunk out of the enemy’s flesh. The Metal plunged to the shoulder of the mountain far below, where it was promptly beset upon by the dark hosts of Vorgon. The Black that had been chasing it turned away to find another foe.

  A wall of fire struck him, but it did no damage—Ziatrice had raised her shield around them both. He spun toward the source of that fire, and saw a big gold dragon bearing down from above. It swung its fiery breath across the back of Nemertes, scorching the exposed flesh of her wounds.

  She spun about, turning upside down, so that her belly faced the sky. Malem was strapped into the saddle, as was Ziatrice, but she still held on tight to his waist. He could see the ground below, and the dark armies watching expectantly.

  He felt the impact as the Gold struck Nemertes, and heard the gnashing of claws and teeth. He felt the pain spike in Nemertes’ energy bundle, and then a moment later she righted herself. The Gold dragon plunged lifelessly toward the dark host below, and the monsters cleared out of the way. After impact, dire wolves and oraks swarmed the body, chewing and hacking.

  Three more Metals fast approached Nemertes. Three fire elementals appeared on her back, and struck at Malem. Once again Ziatrice created her shield. He could sense the drain that maintaining the shield required, and he quickly transferred stamina to her.

  He tried to Break them, but his will bounced off the minds of the elementals. He wished he was powerful enough to Break the minds of higher-level monsters instantly, but not even Vorgon could do that.

  Nemertes, debuff these assholes! Malem sent, wanting her to dispel the fire elementals.

  I tried, Nemertes said. The Metals responsible have strong wills.

  Green darts rammed into one of the Metals courtesy of Mauritania, and one of the fire elementals winked out. Arrows exploded in the chest cavity of another, thanks to Gwenfrieda, and a second elemental vanished. Weyanna and Abigail created fire elementals of their own, creatures that harried the eyes of the final Metal, a Silver, and then they slammed into their foe, ripping their talons across its belly.

  Malem swung his sword at the fire elemental on Nemertes’ back as it came at him again; his blade passed through Ziatrice’s magic shield, and sliced into the creature, but the sword passed clean through, of course. The elemental slammed into the shield, and Ziatrice gasped at the effort to maintain it. Dark mist erupted from her body, and drilled into the fire, but the magic did no harm as well.

  Malem fed more stamina into Ziatrice, drawing on the well of Vorgon, and then he laughed when the fire elemental rammed into the shield once again.

  “We can do this all day, Fiend,” Malem said, though his voice didn’t carry above the wind.

  And then the creature vanished. He glanced toward Weyanna and Abigail—they had torn the responsible Silver’s neck from its body.

  He shared more stamina from Vorgon with Nemertes, and to all of the women bound to him. Gratitude flowed through their energy bundles in return.

  He looked out among the airborne hordes around him, at the Blues and Blacks fighting the Silvers, Golds and Bronzes, and then reached out with his mind, searching for the weakened among them.

  He had forty slots in total, including the four slots granted him by Vorgon, and the thirty-six from the women. Fifteen of those slots were in use, binding Nemertes to him. He could have released the beast, as it answered to Mauritania, but he preferred having it under his direct control. That left twenty-five slots to do with as he pleased.

  He sensed many weak Blues and Blacks among the combatants. Most true dragons required ten slots, so he could Break two Blues, or Blacks. But he had no real need to control them, not while they were already under the wing of Nemertes. And why bother, when there were so many Metals available? The latter wouldn’t even require slots at all, because of their half human nature, and instead would grant him slots.

  He quickly found two injured Metals with his beast sense. Unfortunately, they weren’t weak enough—which made sense, considering they were still flying. His mental grip evaporated when he touched their minds.

  A great Bronze went down near Weyanna.

  Weyanna, grab that one, quickly! Malem instructed her.

  She obediently swooped down and latched onto the dragon. Malem easily Broke the weakened creature, a male, and then sent Weyanna: Heal it.

  Weyanna obeyed. The strain of healing, combined with the effort required to hold the heavy weight of the creature, was quickly taxing her. Malem transferred copious amounts of stamina from Vorgon to her, and he also revived the Metal. He took a good dollop of stamina for himself to compensate for the drain of Breaking such a powerful creature.

  The Bronze began to struggle in Weyanna’s grip.

  Release the dragon, he told Weyanna.

  The Bronze broke free and scrambled away from Weyanna. It fought against Malem’s mental hold.

  It will go easier for you if you do not fight me, Malem sent that one.

  Fuck off!

  The dragon struggled against him all the more.

  Malem grinned malevolently, and drained stamina from the Bronze until it had trouble flying. A pair of Blacks spotted the dragon and, seeing an easy target, swerved toward it.

  Call off those two, he ordered Nemertes.

  The two Blacks promptly turned away, choosing another target.

  Nemertes swerved to the right, dodging a stream of flame meant for her back, and then sending light magic back upon her attacker.

  Finally the dragon ceased struggling, and Malem secured his grip on the creature. He gave stamina back tentatively, wanting to gauge the Bronze’s response, but it didn’t try to escape again. As expected, the Breaking had used up no slots, due to the half human nature of all Metals, and instead had expanded his mental headroom so that he had six extra slots, giving him a total of forty-six.

  What is your name? he asked the dragon.

  5

  Malem waited, but the dragon did not answer.

  What is your name? he pressed.

  Solan, finally came the reply.

  You are mine now, Solan.

  No answer.

  Come to me, and fight by my side.

  The Bronze turned around and flew toward Nemertes. When a Silver came close, opening its mouth to breath fire at the great Blue, Solan diverted and struck down the sur
prised Metal.

  Good boy, Malem sent.

  He sensed only anger in return. Anger, and resignation, as Solan took up a position next to Nemertes. Malem gave the Bronze extra stamina as reward, but the anger only increased.

  Malem didn’t mind. He knew that anger would only make Solan strike out at his former comrades all the harder, as the dragon sought an outlet for his rage and helplessness.

  He sensed another weak Metal nearby, this one a Platinum. It was injured, but not enough for him to Break entirely.

  He steered Nemertes toward that one, and had her swoop down, using her weight to close with extreme speed. She caught the Platinum by surprise, and struck it from above, digging her talons into its flesh. She wrapped her claws around its neck, and squeezed.

  Malem Broke the Platinum, gaining six more slots. He took stamina from Vorgon to recover from the Breaking.

  Don’t kill him, Malem told Nemertes. Weyanna, come closer. Heal this one.

  Weyanna swerved to the side, and the white bands of her healing magic enveloped the dragon.

  Nemertes released the Platinum so that its wounds could heal. He granted stamina to Weyanna, so that she could recover, and also to the Platinum.

  As expected, the Platinum immediately darted away and tried to fight his control. Once more Malem simply withdrew stamina, and the dragon quickly surrendered to his will. He learned the dragon’s name was Jaasorn. Another male.

  Jaasorn tried to fight him once more when he ordered the Platinum to attack another Metal, but a combination of slamming down with his will, and draining Jaasorn’s stamina, put the half dragon in place. Jaasorn finally attacked the Silver as ordered, and when it returned, winded, he gave the dragon stamina in reward.

  Four huge Platinums suddenly swerved from the main combat, and focused on Nemertes. Jaasorn and Solan attempted to intercept them, but the Platinums batted them aside. They breathed fire, sweeping it across the injured back of Nemertes, and scorching her wounds. Ziatrice raised her magic shield to protect Malem and herself, while at the same time striking out with her dark chains. She wrapped them around one of the dragons, causing the creature to plunge.