by Isaac Hooke
And then, just like that, she withdrew the blade, and swung it in a wide arc that was no doubt meant for his head. But the angle of that arc changed at the last moment, swinging downward, so that instead the blade plunged toward the stones that composed the parapet walkway.
“Oof!" a voice said.
Malem glanced downward.
Gwenfrieda had impaled the man instead. He let out his last breath, and died.
She turned her back on him, leaving the blade protruding from the dead body. As she walked away, he realized she was weeping.
He wasn’t sure why he had done that. Perhaps it was partly out of anger at himself for having bargained so fiercely for her life in front of Vorgon earlier. He wanted to be sure she was worth it. And yet, even that wasn’t a viable excuse. The truth was, he had wanted to die in that moment.
Wanted to die for what he had become.
And what better way than at the hands of one of his own women?
No. I’ve become greater than I ever have, thanks to Vorgon. I can’t die now, not while I’m at my most powerful.
And yet, that power came at great cost.
He shook his head violently.
There is no cost. Vorgon saved me. Set me free from the Darkness of Banvil.
And yet, if that were true, then why did the thought seem so wrong to him?
He knew the answer almost immediately: he had merely traded one Darkness for another. This was not freedom.
This was slavery.
There were moments, such as now, that came when Vorgon went away to that nether realm and the demon’s hold over him weakened. Moments when Malem became fully aware of the terrible extent of his plight.
But those moments were few and far between. Probably a good thing, because when they came, he realized there was no escape.
How could there be? He was surrounded by an army of Vorgon’s most devoted servants. Black Swords. Night Elves. Dwarves. Oraks, and other creatures of the night.
These moments were too fleeting for him to plan anything. Far too fleeting.
Already, the moment of lucidity was passing.
What was I just thinking about?
Mauritania’s healer arrived, and proceeded to mend Sylfi and Brita. Malem ordered the healer to escort the sisters inside so that they could find some proper clothes. The healer was to inform any Eldritch or other members of the dark army he encountered along the way that the women belonged to the Defiler, Vorgon’s top lieutenant.
The other new members of Malem’s team remained on the parapet, close to his side and under his watchful eye. Nemertes had already notified the Blues and Blacks of their presence, so they need not fear an attack from that vector. The creatures were too busy ravaging the surrounding buildings anyway.
Nemertes departed a moment later to join in the fun.
Malem swept his gaze across the dragon keep, and the city beyond. The looting was in full swing. Dark troops continued to flow inside Vorgon’s breach in the city wall. Their numbers spread out across the diamond-paved streets. Oraks used daggers to pry gems away from the emerald and gold exteriors of the towers. Night elves threw chunks of broken gold into big pots, melting the precious metal into ingots. Dwarves used pick-axes to wring diamonds from the roads.
Somewhere in this city the Metals had kept Malem’s two former pets for safekeeping. Felipe, and Bounder. He smiled fondly at the dear memories those names brought to mind, but the grin quickly fled his lips: the animals were very likely dead now.
In truth, Malem didn’t really care.
He turned away from the city in time to see Weyanna and Abigail returning to human form. Ordinarily the mere sight of their naked bodies would have him struggling to contain his urges, but today he hardly noticed. They slid out of the oversized saddles that now wrapped their entire bodies, and retrieved the slip-on dresses and boots they had stowed in the side pockets earlier. After quickly donning the clothing, they came to him.
“I’d like to barricade the royal quarters,” Abigail told him. “To protect my things, and those of the king.”
Malem waved her away. “Go ahead.”
She ran off with Weyanna toward the main keep. He spotted a pair of Eldritch loitering nearby, members of the infiltration group that had taken over the keep.
“Go with them,” he told the group. “Make sure the looters don’t give them trouble.”
Not that he was worried all that much. In human form, Abigail was a formidable fire mage, while Weyanna was a powerful ice magician to boot.
Mauritania came to his side, joining Ziatrice. She watched the final two Broken dragons, Solan and Gannet, return to human form. In only a few seconds two muscular, naked men stood before them.
Mauritania licked her lips. “Mmm.”
Malem suppressed a sudden pang of jealousy. He felt like killing those two half dragons right then, completely understanding Ziatrice’s earlier comment about competition. They were far handsomer than he was. But he was unwilling to lose the twelve slots those two dragons provided him with. Besides, he offered so much more than just good looks to his women.
I don’t need to worry about competition.
“Kneel,” Malem said anyway, wanting to exert his will over the men, and show the women who was boss.
Solan and Gannet dropped to their knees immediately. Mauritania seemed to lose interest at that point, turning her back. Ziatrice, meanwhile, suppressed a yawn.
“Get some clothes,” Malem said. “And then come back here and keep watch on the parapets with the women.” He glanced at two more idling Eldritch. “You two, escort them, and see that they remain out of trouble.”
“Yes, master,” Solan said.
Gannet said nothing, keeping his head bowed.
He didn’t call me master.
Malem decided not to make an example of him. Not yet.
“You’re dismissed,” Malem said. The two rose to their feet and were joined by the two Eldritch. Malem returned his attention to Mauritania and Ziatrice.
Mauritania was looking at Gwenfrieda, who stood nearby, gazing out across the city.
“Why did you test her like that?” Mauritania asked.
“I don’t know,” Malem said. “Something compelled me.”
She nodded. “You know, when I was bound by Vorgon, there were times when I was myself. Very short moments, when all I wanted to do was die to escape. Once, I set a sword down on the ground, wedging it between two cobblestones, and knelt before it. I pressed my weight against the blade… it was magical sword, a Drainer, and it whined loudly for my blood. I almost obliged it. Almost. But I couldn’t do it. When I stood, I was back in Vorgon’s control entirely, and I destroyed the hungry blade with my powers.”
“You would have done the world a good thing if you had gone through with it,” Ziatrice commented, bearing her sharp teeth in a rictus.
Mauritania scowled at her. “You should talk, Bitch.”
Ziatrice shrugged. “I meant it in the kindest way.”
“Of course you did,” Mauritania said.
“We’ve all done our fair share of damage to the world,” Malem said. “But it’s for a good cause.”
“Is it?” Ziatrice said. “I’d agree, if that army was doing this in your name. But they’re not. They fight for Vorgon, not you.”
“Careful,” Malem said. “I won’t tolerate much more traitorous talk from you, Woman. Vorgon is our master now. Don’t you forget it.”
Ziatrice bowed her head. “Sorry, my lord.”
All of a sudden she thrust out one hand, and from it dark mist erupted. The tendrils of darkness were headed toward his body.
Mauritania threw a net comprised of Eldritch magic in its path, and the bright green web trapped the darkness before falling to the walkway stones. Both magics dissipated upon contact.
Malem squeezed his will tightly around Ziatrice so that she could no longer move, and he angrily drew Balethorn. The sated blade still remained silent.
“Told you sh
e’s a bitch,” Mauritania said. “We can’t trust her.”
Malem released Ziatrice’s lips so that she could talk.
The night elf smiled widely. “Just testing you! I wasn’t going to let the magic hit you, of course.”
Malem stared at her, not amused.
“Breaker?” Ziatrice said, her smile faltering. “Let me go?” When he didn’t answer, she tried using his preferred name: “Defiler?”
He sighed, and released her. She sagged, physically exhausted by the mental hold.
“Go loot the keep or something,” he told her.
Her face lit up, and she ran across the parapet to do his bidding.
He glanced at Mauritania.
“Alone at last,” the statuesque woman said, giving him a sly look.
“What, you want to fuck right here?” Malem said.
She shrugged. “Why not?”
Malem glanced around at the lingering Eldritch, who pretended not to be paying any attention.
He pursed his lips. “Why not indeed.”
“It’s more fun in public,” she said.
He nodded. “And there’s nothing like a good battle to get one’s blood boiling.”
“I’ll show you something that will get your blood boiling…” Mauritania said, reaching toward her bosom.
Defiler, Vorgon’s voice interrupted in his head.
Malem straightened, turning away from Mauritania. Master. You have returned already?
Soon, Vorgon said. Meet me in an hour in the caverns below the keep. We have something to discuss.
Malem glanced at Mauritania. “Sorry, I have to go.”
“Why?” she whined.
He was already running across the walkway. He glanced over his shoulder at her: “Duty calls!”
“Duty can wait!” she shouted at his back.
“Not this time.”
Malem sought out Abigail, and found her in her chambers.
“I need a map,” Malem told her.
She retrieved a roll of parchment from one of her cupboards, and unfurled it on a cherrywood table. “Is there any place in particular you are looking for?”
“The caverns under the keep,” Malem said. “Vorgon wants to talk to me alone.”
“That can’t be good,” Abigail said.
“Probably not,” Malem agreed.
She showed him the route to follow, and folded up the map, giving it to him. He thanked her before taking his leave.
She called out when he stepped through the door. “Breaker!”
He gave her an impatient look.
“Thank you for letting my father go,” she said.
He nodded slowly. “I’m about to pay the price for that, I think.”
“Let me go with you, then,” she said.
“No,” Malem said. “The punishment must be mine alone. I will bear full responsibility for my actions. ”
“Be careful,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
He took mercy on her, and turned around and left without a word more.
7
Malem made his way down the keep’s central staircase until he reached the basement level. Using the map, he found the entrance that led to the caverns below. Two half dragons in full scale armor lay slumped near the entrance. Their chests were slit open. Eldritch warriors stood watch above them, their swords bloody.
One of the warriors nodded respectfully. “Defiler.”
Malem gazed between the two dragons, and the Eldritch, and then clenched his fists, suppressing the sudden urge to slay them.
Why do I always want to kill everything in sight these days?
He walked past them without a word, and into the darkness beyond.
“Do you need light?” a warrior called after him.
Malem ignored the man, continuing into the murk. It was bright enough for his night vision to guide him. That, and the occasional torch that flickered in its bracket allowed him to pick his way through the dungeon-like corridors. The map was unfortunately unreadable, but he had memorized the route he needed. He folded up the parchment and tucked it into his belt.
He found more bodies along the way, these of both half dragons and Eldritch, as if the latter had died shortly after killing the dragons. The passage was big enough only to fit the dragons in human form.
The brick-walled corridors ceded to raw stone, and he made his way through the jagged tunnel carved into the mountain beyond. He ignored passages that branched off to either flank, and continued until the tunnel opened into an expansive cavern.
He stood in a cavern held aloft by pillars that were wider at the plinths and apexes than at the middles, pillars that had crystallized naturally beneath the mountain. Some of them hadn’t joined at the middle, and instead formed sharp stalagmites and stalactites that reminded him of teeth.
There were more torches here, set into different brackets along the walls and pillars, and they illuminated the vast quantities of gold and silver coins that steeped the chamber. Set amid the many piles of drachmae were chandeliers, chairs, vases, weapons, scabbards, satchels, and other valuable items, all made of gold or silver, and sometimes inlaid with diamonds and similarly expensive gems.
The hoarded gold and gems that composed the treasury of Khaledonius.
The marvelous sight was ruined by the corpses of the two huge dragons sprawled across the treasure between the stalagmites and pillars. The first, a Gold, lay near the center of the cavern; dried blood caked its open mouth and nostrils. Its eye gazed lifelessly at him, their irises glazed over. The second Metal, a Silver, had its lips curled back in a rictus of pain; below the chin, its neck was torn open.
Half dragons didn’t always transform back into humans when they died. These two were proof of that. Seeing the once majestic creatures draped lifelessly across the treasure like that made him feel strangely poignant.
Such is the end that awaits us all, no matter how beautiful we once were, no matter how strong.
Malem warily advanced, surveying his surroundings for any potential ambushes. He kept his hand on his sword hilt. He didn’t want to draw the weapon outright, lest he offend Vorgon.
Speaking of swords, his gaze was caught by different bladed weapons set amid the glittering piles. Scimitars with extravagantly detailed, gem-inlaid hilts. Axes whose blades themselves contained diamonds that caught the light in hypnotic patterns. Several of those weapons had to be magical, and he was sorely tempted to loot them. Surely Vorgon wouldn’t miss one absent sword? But he resisted the urge.
All of this belongs to Vorgon now.
“That’s right,” Vorgon boomed from somewhere in the room.
Malem glanced about, searching for his master, but he could not see the Balor.
“You should feel honored,” Vorgon said. “As of yet I have allowed no others of my army to set foot in this place and live. I have executed those who discovered it.”
That explained the Eldritch bodies he’d seen on the way here.
“I am honored, Master,” Malem said.
“The treasure that these greedy dragons hoarded will be used to pay my armies,” Vorgon told him. “Let it not be said I am not a kind master.”
“You are kind, as you are merciful,” Malem said.
“Ah, merciful,” Vorgon said, the Balor’s voice assuming an ironic tone. “You sense why I have summoned you. Good.”
The chamber shook, and the huge demon stepped out from behind one of the pillars. It towered over him, the blue flames that burned along its silhouette adding to the general illumination of the chamber. Its big ax hung from one arm, glinting wickedly in the torchlight.
Malem wasn’t sure how the Balor had fit inside this place in the first place. Perhaps Vorgon had entered it directly via the intermediary realm the Balor used to recuperate.
Vorgon regarded him uncertainly a moment. Malem didn’t like it when the Balor looked at him that way.
“Why didn’t you Break King Agantas when you had the chance?” Vorgon asked.
“You are bad at this,” Vorgon said.
“Bad at what?” Malem asked warily.
“Lying,” Vorgon replied menacingly.
Malem swallowed. What did the Balor know?
“Nemertes told me you let the king get away,” Vorgon said.
Ah.
He would have to have a word with the dragon later.
“Agantas was fleeing,” Malem said, thinking fast. “I tried to Break him, but he struggled. It’s possible I would’ve been able to succeed, even without your stamina, but I noticed a group of nearby Metals preparing a concerted attack against you, and I realized the king was acting only as a diversion. I recalled my companions and struck at the Metals from behind, scattering them before they could assault you. By the time I turned back, the king was gone.”
Vorgon didn’t answer for a long moment. And then came that deep, eerie, booming laugh. “Ah, my Defiler. I know you released him for the sake of one of your playthings. The female dragon. His daughter.”
Malem was very careful to keep his mind empty.
“That’s right, try to mask your thoughts from me,” Vorgon said. “But I already know the truth.” The Balor shrugged its great shoulders. “I don’t really care. Agantas’ army is decimated, the remnants scattered to the four winds, and quite useless. No further threat to me. He can rule his tiny remnant, hiding away in a small cave somewhere while we destroy the world. Agantas, king of thirty dragons. In fact, it even pleases me that you have Broken his daughter, and that she fights for us. Agantas has to live, knowing this, haunted by the memory of what you have done to his child. Yes, that pleases me greatly.” He paused, then sighed. It was like the rasp of a whetstone upon a blade. “Still, I feel I should punish you for this. What punishment would you suggest, Defiler?”
“I don’t know,” Male said. “Whatever the master desires.”
“Shall I kill one of your playthings?” Vorgon asked.
Malem felt a sudden panic inside of him. He tried to suppress it before Vorgon could notice, but was too late.
“Ah yes,” Vorgon said, smiling. The flames formed a wreath around its lips. “I feel the spike in fear. Which plaything should I take? The one you name Mauritania? Weyanna perhaps. Or maybe Gwenfrieda?”