Defiler

by Isaac Hooke

  Green darts from Mauritania struck the other dragon, and it dropped from view. Malem didn’t bother trying to Break that one—Weyanna’s healing magic couldn’t handle Eldritch magic.

  The remaining two Platinums crashed into Nemertes and threw her to one side. The great Blue flinched in pain, and released her light magic in waves. The bright tendrils curled into the wounds they found on the first Platinum, and created craters of implosion, causing the Platinum to scream in pain. But the second Platinum had no wounds to fester, and the light magic did no harm.

  Malem tried to crush the mind of the injured Platinum, but while he was able to touch its will, he couldn’t get a firm hold.

  Nemertes abruptly changed course, and dove toward the second Platinum. She opened her jaws and ripped into its back, tearing away one of its wings. Screeching, the creature dropped toward the ground.

  Mauritania launched green darts from the back of Weyanna, while Gwenfrieda fired her explosive arrows, and together they took down the first Platinum. Because of the Eldritch magic, once more he abandoned any notions of Breaking the falling Metal.

  That healing you offered earlier? Nemertes said. I’ll take it now.

  Weyanna flew to the great Blue’s side and healed Nemertes. She also healed the damage Solan and Jaasorn had taken. Malem restored Weyanna’s endurance when it was done, and gazed out upon the rapidly thinning Metal ranks.

  With Vorgon’s infinite stamina, he could keep Breaking and Breaking until he had all of the Metals under his control.

  That’s right, Ziatrice sent. Break them all!

  Over the next few minutes, he Broke another three dragons. He injured them, captured them before they could fall, and had Weyanna heal them. He gained another eighteen slots in the process, for a total of seventy.

  If he hadn’t been under Vorgon’s control, he would have never done this. Breaking half dragons against their wills? His old self would have never allowed it. But his new self didn’t care. His new self desired only to serve, and to obtain the power that came with that serving. Yes, he would keep growing his Breaking abilities, to infinity. For Vorgon.

  And for himself.

  The new dragons included one male, and two females. Their names were Gannet, Sylfi, and Brita. The first was a Silver. And the latter two were Chromiums. Sisters, apparently.

  He felt none of the ordinary fatigue he usually did when breaking such powerful creatures, because he continually leeched stamina from Vorgon to renew himself.

  With Vorgon backing us, we truly are invincible.

  He couldn’t help the mad cackle that erupted from his lips.

  When he sent Jaasorn to attack a group of Metals from behind, a big Blue mistakenly swooped down and sliced open Jaasorn’s neck with its claws, killing the dragon instantly. Jaasorn hadn’t offered any resistance—he thought they were on the same side.

  Malem felt the boomerang effect as his connection to the dragon was severed, and he lurched in the saddle. He had to draw stamina from Vorgon to stabilize himself.

  More angry from the loss of slots than anything else, and also by the fact the Blue had just showed him that he wasn’t as invincible as he thought, Malem struck out at the Blue’s mind, but couldn’t touch it.

  He sent Gannet, Sylfi, Brita and Weyanna down upon it, and they began to rip into the creature with their claws and teeth. When its mind became weak enough, Malem finally broke the Blue. Since it was a true dragon, it didn’t grant him an increase in slots. So instead he crushed its will entirely, draining it of its stamina. The dead creature fell away from the four attackers and plummeted to the ground.

  He spotted another Black, and once more steered his Broken companions to attack. When it was wounded enough, he Broke it, and similarly killed it. The stamina drain he received wasn’t much, considering how weak the creature was, so he tapped into Vorgon’s source to replenish what he had lost during the Breaking.

  But the flow of infinite stamina instantly slammed shut.

  Enough! Vorgon sent in his head.

  Malem glanced toward Vorgon below. He realized that the Balor was fully occupied. Metals were attacking it in repeated waves, using the demon’s body to shield them from any attacks from the Eldritch below. Those Eldritch had grown weak, and their magical attacks no longer packed the same punch, the emerald ribbons flimsy and insubstantial.

  Vorgon swung his fiery blue ax about, cutting open Metals as he could. The Balor also unleashed walls of darkness from its chest, steering them toward its airborne enemies. Those Metals that couldn’t dodge in time were hit, and black veins crawled across their scales before they crashed amid the black host below.

  All that fighting and magic use certainly had to be trying on Vorgon’s own stamina. The Balor would soon need to return to that nether world between realms so that it could regenerate.

  Malem had probably been draining that stamina a little too liberally. Hopefully, he wouldn’t be punished for it later.

  He directed Nemertes, and the other dragons under his control, toward Vorgon to help stave off the attacking Metals. And to hopefully get back on Vorgon’s good side.

  The Metal ranks in the skies around him had thinned severely by then. But so had those of the Blues and Blacks.

  As he got closer to Vorgon, he thought he recognized the big Gold dragon leading the airborne assault against Vorgon. But as before, he wasn’t completely certain.

  Abigail, is that your father?

  It is, she replied weakly.

  Kill him, he ordered as they grew near.

  She suddenly fought his control, madly, and Malem was forced to drain her.

  He probably shouldn’t have been surprised she would act this way, considering how he himself had acted when Vorgon had given him a similar order.

  Stupid, he told himself.

  She continued fighting him so that he was forced to drain more and more of her stamina, until at last she couldn’t hold herself aloft.

  She plunged toward the ground.

  Malem drained stamina from Solan, preparing to give it to Abigail instead—he had no intention of letting her die—but then, to his surprise, Agantas swerved away from Vorgon.

  “No!” Agantas shouted. He climbed away from the attack group, ascending toward his plummeting daughter.

  Malem held back on giving the stamina to Abigail… he was interested to see how this would unfold. Abigail had a long way to go before she reached the ground yet.

  Thin ribbons of green magic arose from the Eldritch ranks among Vorgon’s black host below and sought the retreating king, whose flight had brought him into their full view. Some of the ribbons struck Agantas, but the magic was too weak to bring down the great Gold.

  Get him!

  Malem sent Nemertes straight down, and the dragons under his command followed suit. Nemertes tucked in her wings and dropped like a boulder, but Solan was ahead of her and reached Agantas first: the Bronze raked his claws across the king’s back.

  Agantas turned to swat Solan away, exposing the wounds he’d taken in his belly.

  Nemertes promptly unleashed her light magic as she fell, and the bright ribbons struck the wounds.

  Agantas yelled in pain, quickly turning his back to Nemertes. The king dove up and forward with a final burst of energy, and scooped the falling Abigail into his claws. Her weight dragged him down for a few seconds, and for a moment Malem thought the pair were going to crash into the dark host below.

  But Agantas managed to arrest his motion ten yards above the ground. And he began flying away. His flight was slow, lumbering, and he took several hits from the enemy below as he struggled to increase his height.

  Malem called off the dragons to relish in the sight. Agantas was going to be shot down. That much was obvious. But still the king refused to release his daughter.

  Malem had to admire the half dragon for that.

  He reached out experimentally. To his glee, he discovered he could touch the king’s mind without the mental tendrils evaporatin
g. The toll of the wounds Agantas had taken, along with Abigail’s weight, had combined to weaken the king enough for Breaking.

  Malem wrapped his will around the king’s mind and squeezed.

  Agantas’ flapping faltered, and his body dipped. Arrows porcupined his underside from below as night elves let loose. Eldritch magic riddled his underside; while weak, the blows were beginning to add up, further taking a toll.

  Please, Malem! Abigail sent. Not him, too. Don’t do this to my father! He’s only trying to save me. You have me already. Must you take all my family?

  Malem was about to silence her, but something about her voice got to him. Perhaps it was the hurt he sensed in her, and the growing accusation, bordering on hatred. Or maybe it was simply the sheer desperation. He didn’t know, really.

  Either way, he released his mental hold on the king. The strokes of Agantas’ grand wings became stronger, more forceful, and the king pulled away from the army below. Other Metals came forth, and shielded the king with their bodies.

  Malem turned Nemertes toward those Metals, glad for some target other than the king he could attack. He didn’t want it to be completely obvious he was letting Agantas get away.

  The other dragons under his direct control took his directional change as the cue to attack; they streaked past the other Metals, ignoring them to head straight for Agantas.

  Leave him, Malem ordered. Attack the Metals protecting him.

  The dragons under his command immediately turned about to assault the surrounding Metals.

  What are you doing? Nemertes asked as she bit into the side of a defending Silver. These other Metals are worth little in the grand scheme of things. The king is within our reach. If you will not Break him, then at least allow the rest of us to take him.

  The king had pulled beyond the range of the army below now, and was exposed only to the dragons ahead.

  Several Blues approached from the side, traveling on an intercept course with the king.

  Recall your Blues, Malem told Nemertes. Leave the king be. When she didn’t reply, he tightened his will. Do it.

  The dragons turned back.

  Ziatrice’s voice came in his head next. The master will be angry…

  Malem silenced her, along with his own doubting thoughts. Vorgon’s anger seemed preferable to the inevitable hate Abigail would feel for him if he allowed any harm to come to her father. Again, it didn’t make sense to him why that should be the case—why did he care if she, a mere receptacle of his power, hated him? But he did care.

  He told himself that it didn’t matter if the king escaped, not if Khaledonius fell. That Vorgon wouldn’t punish him too severely.

  Your plaything is right, Nemertes sent. Vorgon will kill you for this.

  But Malem said nothing. Maybe he preferred death to infinite servitude.

  No. I am free. I’ve always been free. Thanks to Vorgon.

  He almost turned around, almost reached out in an attempt to crush the will of Agantas again, but somehow held back.

  Agantas continued to put distance between himself and the pursuers. More and more of the Metals joined him, and they fled together. Malem realized most of the Metal army was in full route by then. They were fleeing the city en masse, and heading away to the north. Small pockets of them still fought, holding off the remaining Blues and Blacks so that the others could escape.

  Tell the king to release you, Malem told Abigail.

  But you’ve drained too much of my stamina, Abigail replied. I can’t fly.

  He restored her stamina then, using the amount he had stolen from Solon earlier. He also transferred endurance from Nemertes, since Vorgon still wouldn’t feed him.

  Now you can fly, Malem sent. So tell him to release you. Then return to me.

  But—

  Do it, Malem said. Or I send the dragons back to finish what they started. And your father is mine.

  Agantas continued flying for several moments, no doubt arguing with his daughter, but then he released her at last.

  Abigail fell away, and then promptly swooped around to return.

  Behind her, the king continued retreating, joining his routed army. Agantas swiveled his neck to glance back, his features full of longing; when his eyes alighted on Malem atop Nemertes, his expression hardened. Malem could sense the sheer hatred emanating from the king in that moment. Malem had led the attack against his precious dragon city, and stolen his daughter away from him. Of course there would be no love coming from Agantas.

  The king at last swung his head around and continued on his way. He did not look back again.

  You will say nothing of what happened to Vorgon, do you understand me? Malem sent Nemertes.

  But the Blue didn’t answer him.

  He tightened his will around her. Do you understand?

  Yes.

  Somehow, he doubted she would hold her tongue.

  A green flare launched from the central keep and rose into the sky. It would have been launched by one of the Eldritch mages and was the sign the keep had fallen.

  The vast host below issued a shout of triumph.

  The Blues and Blacks pursued the routed Metals north, and harried the laggards, sometimes dropping them from the sky. Malem didn’t bother to Break any of the injured; Weyanna was too far away to heal them before they struck the ground.

  In the end, the true dragons grew weary of the pursuit, and turned back to join in the victory party. Oraks and dwarves had already reached the walls, thanks to the vine ramps and ladders the earth mages had grown over the mountain’s steep faces, and the invaders streamed into the streets via the access Vorgon had hewed into the golden wall.

  6

  Malem flew over the city as Vorgon retreated south away from Mount Ademan. The Balor summoned a portal to its nether realm to recover its strength, and slowly began to vanish.

  Malem landed Nemertes on the parapet of the main keep. He stepped from the saddle, and slid down the leathery wing onto the ground.

  Ziatrice joined him.

  Two Eldritch approached. They were mages, judging from their robes, and from the jingling ornaments that hung from their horns. The walkway they crossed connected the parapet to a nearby tower. Behind them they hauled along two naked women with ropes tied around their necks. Both had pixieish faces, with short hair to match, and he would have thought them beautiful if it weren’t for their haggard expressions, that and the festering green wounds that marred their lean bellies, marking where the Eldritch magic known as the Green Rot had struck.

  He had seen injuries like these before on Abigail and Weyanna, grievous wounds that had prevented them from transforming out of the human state.

  “A gift for you, High Lord,” one of the Eldritch told him.

  Malem gazed at the weakened dragons. "Come before me."

  The Eldritch mages shoved the women forward, and forced them to kneel in front of him.

  He attempted to wrap his will around them, but with a shock, realized that he had Broken them already. They were the two sisters, Sylfi and Brita. They must have landed ahead of the party.

  “You morons!” Malem drew Balethorn and struck off the Eldritch’s heads.

  Sylfi and Brita gasped at the brutal sight and hugged one another, weeping.

  Malem still held Balethorn in hand. The sword was quiet—it had been sated during the fight. He promptly scabbarded the blade.

  “You don’t have anything to fear from me,” Malem told them. “I am your protector, now.” He tried to send soothing vibes down his connection with them, but it didn’t seem to help.

  He turned toward Mauritania, who had teleported off her perch upon Weyanna. “Summon one of your healers immediately.”

  Mauritania bowed. “It will be done.”

  “And make sure none of the other Eldritch under your command make the same mistake,” he added. “Unless they want to suffer the same fate as these two.”

  He glanced at Weyanna expectantly, but the white dragon shook her head. “I
can do nothing for these women. My healing can’t penetrate Eldritch magic.”

  “Maybe we should let them die,” Ziatrice chimed in. When he gave her an angry glance, she merely shrugged innocently. “What? Less competition.”

  He heard a moan from somewhere beside him. There were several human bodies piled across the parapet, where Nemertes and her team had attacked earlier. He approached the closest pile, and kicked over one of those upon the outskirts. Sure enough, the man moaned again. He wore the beaked helmet of a soldier, and a surcoat bearing a talon aflame. His belly was shredded where a dragon’s claws had found him. He looked up at Malem with pleading eyes.

  His mood still sour, Malem glanced behind him. Abigail had landed on the parapet now, too, and Gwenfrieda had just climbed down.

  “Gwenfrieda, come here,” Malem ordered.

  The green half gobling approached.

  “Kill this thing,” Malem said, gesturing toward the soldier.

  “I can heal—” Weyanna began.

  Malem raised an abrupt fist, silencing the white dragon. “Gwenfrieda?”

  The half gobling gave him a pained look, but she promptly knelt, grabbing a sword that a defender had dropped during the battle. She hefted the blade by the hilt, and walked toward the man to do as Malem asked.

  But Malem intercepted her. He stood in front of her, and kicked her lowered blade so that it bounced toward his chest. He grabbed it, and directed the tip over his heart. He pressed his body forward so that he could feel the sharp tip pricking his skin.

  “What are you doing?” Ziatrice hissed.

  Malem ignored the night elf, and stared into Gwenfrieda’s eyes. “You want to do it. I know you do.”

  Hatred flared in those eyes, along with defiance.

  Malem still had his will squeezed tightly around her, but in that moment he released it, giving her the freedom of choice.

  The hatred gave way to confusion, and then anger. She bit her lower lip, and her grip on the sword tightened so that her knuckles were white. Then she pressed the blade forward, ever so slightly, and Malem flinched at the pain, but otherwise stood his ground.