by Isaac Hooke
It was done.
He glanced at the pit. There was no mist there. The last of it had flowed inside him.
He surveyed the room, wondering if some of the Darkness had drifted into a different part of the mountain chamber, but he saw only empty rock.
“Banvil?” Malem asked.
Nothing.
There was no sign of the creature, and he felt no intrusion in his head.
He sought the Darkness inside of himself, as Banvil had taught him after he had first Broken the demon, but found nothing. He wasn’t sure if Banvil had successfully planted himself in his mind, or died in the process.
Maybe Banvil found the death the demon so badly wanted after all.
He scrambled up the slope, and headed for his companions waiting outside.
35
“It’s done,” Malem said when he emerged. He approached his companions, who waited next to the dark reptiles near the path.
“Did you link with Banvil?” Xaxia asked.
“I think so,” he replied.
“What do you mean, you think so?” she said.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. He entered me, but now I feel nothing.” He glanced at Goldenthall. “Any news?”
Goldenthall appeared stunned.
“Don’t talk to him,” Mauritania said. “He’s not coherent.”
“He’s gone,” Goldenthall said. “Gone. Gone. What did you do?”
Malem frowned. Had Banvil died after all?
He smiled wanly. I guess I got my wish in the end.
“Do you still plan to die?” Xaxia asked him.
Malem hesitated. Finally: “No.”
Gwenfrieda slumped in relief.
“What changed your mind?” Xaxia pressed.
“You did.” He glanced at the others. “You all did.”
Apparently no one really knew what to say to that, because relieved smiles filled their faces.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Abigail asked.
Sylfi was the one who answered. “He has to kill Vorgon.”
“I won’t be able to,” Malem said. “But perhaps, just perhaps, I won’t have to. But we’ve been here long enough. It’s time to go meet my doom, head on, with sword raised and back straight. Dragons, it’s time to transform. We return north!”
“Wait,” Brita said. “Aren’t we worried about Denfidal anymore?”
“I’m not sure there’s much the Balor can do at this point,” Malem said. “Even if it spots us, we’ll be well on our way to the north.”
He glanced at Goldenthall for confirmation, but the man’s gaze was distant, his lips moving as he muttered inaudibly to himself.
He was about to give the order for the dragons to transform again when he heard a shout from behind.
It was Timlir, returning on Stridesfast. The pony moved at a gallop across the trail.
Alarmed, Malem searched the land behind the dwarf, as well as the distant horizon, but saw no sign of pursuit. Why was the dwarf in such a hurry then?
“Wait!” Timlir called.
Malem could sense the rising fear in the pony as it approached the larger reptilian mounts, so Malem Broke the animal once again and calmed it.
Timlir pulled up short in front of Malem. “Wait.”
“You’re back!” Xaxia said excitedly.
“I am!” Timlir said. His pony gasped for breath beneath him.
“Wonderful,” Mauritania said, sounding disappointed.
“What about your wife?” Xaxia asked.
“She’s gone,” Timlir replied. “Died years ago. She fell during the First Balor War.”
“But I thought… you said…” Xaxia frowned.
“I know what I said,” the dwarf told her. “But the truth is, I came here to die. When I said I wanted to meet my wife, I meant in the afterlife…” He laughed sadly, shaking his head. “But I’ve decided I don’t want to go through with it. That’s not my path. If I’m going to die, I want it to mean something. I want someone to know about it. I don’t want to die here in this wretched, black place, alone, with the only witness seething oraks who will eat me once I fall. I thought it would be an honorable way to go. But there is no honor here.”
Malem was reminded of something similar he had done once, long ago, when he had fled to the Midweald to die. He’d changed his mind in much the same manner.
Humans and dwarves aren’t so different.
“So I’m going with you now, Woman,” Timlir continued. “You and your Breaker. If he will allow it.”
Malem shrugged. “I’ve never been one to refuse an extra fighting hand.”
“Thank you!” Xaxia said. She tempered her enthusiasm when she realized everyone was giving her an odd look. “I mean, thanks. That’s great.”
“This dwarf obviously means a lot to you,” Malem said. “You’ve fought side-by-side through hell and back again to fetch me this Dark Eye. Of course I wouldn’t separate the two of you, not now.”
“I think the bandit has the hots for the dwarf,” Brita commented.
“Ah, no,” Xaxia said. “There’s only one person I have the hots for here.”
“If you wanted to have sex, I certainly wouldn’t say no,” Timlir said.
Xaxia threw up her arms. “Can you guys transform so we can head back already?”
Malem glanced at Abigail expectantly.
Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Something’s wrong,” Abigail said.
“What?” Malem said.
Weyanna was the one who replied. “I can’t transform.”
“None of us can,” Sylfi said.
“It’s Denfidal,” Malem said. He gazed toward the distant volcano to the south, but still saw nothing.
“He must have laid some sort of debuff region around this area,” Xaxia said. “Kind of like what Nemertes once did to us.”
Abigail lifted her hands: both arms, from the elbows to the palms, became enveloped in flames. “I still have the magic of my human side.”
Weyanna pointed her hand at the ground in a flinging motion, and shards of sharp ice ripped into the ground. “Me too.”
Mauritania’s hands glowed a bright green. “Mine works as well.”
“The debuff must be designed to affect dragons alone,” Brita said. “Or at least, the transformation into dragons.”
“This is your fault,” Sylfi said, turning toward Goldenthall. “You’re the one who told us to change into humans in the first place. And it didn’t matter anyway!”
“The debuff would have forced us back into human form,” Brita told her sister gently. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Oh,” Sylfi said, seeming slightly embarrassed.
“We retreat,” Malem said. “At least until we reach the limits of the debuff! Then we fly!”
“What if there is no limit?” Xaxia asked.
“Then we’re fucked!” Gwenfrieda replied.
Malem mounted his reptile and waited for the others to do the same before he ordered the creatures north along the path. He kept the horses on the main path amid the pumice and obsidian along the shoulder of the mountain, not wanting to cut up the legs of the animals. Meanwhile, he allowed the more resilient reptilian mounts to travel on either side of the trail, as suited them.
Keep trying to transform, Malem told the dragons.
I’ll let you know the instant it works, Abigail said.
I’m sure I’ll realize it, Malem commented dryly.
His beast sense suddenly lit up.
Got an orak war band approaching! he sent the others.
Which way? Abigail asked, looking around.
East! he replied.
East? Gwenfrieda said, sounding confused. That’s where the mountain is.
Sure enough, shortly thereafter hoots and howls erupted from the base of the mountain to the left, where shoulder met rock face. Oraks emerged from hidden caves and paths somewhere farther up the face.
He squeezed down on the rising terror
he felt in the horses and the other mounts, and impelled the creatures to run faster.
Xaxia drew her blade, as did Malem.
Some of those oraks wielded crossbows, and they paused when they emerged from hiding to rain crossbow bolts down upon the party. Malem found himself missing Ziatrice’s magic shield in that moment.
Timlir increased the pace of Stridesfast to run alongside him and Xaxia. He had drawn his great ax, and he swung it in wide arcs beside him. As the bolts came in, they were drawn en masse to that blade. When they hit it, they promptly clattered to the ground.
“Nice weapon!” Sylfi commented.
Gwenfrieda returned fire with her bow, downing three crossbowmen in rapid succession. Abigail also unleashed hell upon the oraks, launching streams of fire that lit up several of the creatures at once. Weyanna fired ice balls, and Mauritania unleashed green magic that disintegrated large swaths of enemy units. If there were mages among the enemy, they weren’t marked with robes.
But then he spotted streams of dark magic emerging from one of the oraks dressed in ordinary armor. It stood next to the crossbowmen. That magic darted toward the team.
Black mage. He guided Mauritania’s gaze to the creature.
She released green magic. The ribbons of Eldritch magic overwhelmed that of the dark, and consumed the black power before continuing on to the mage that launched them. The creature tried to flee, but the Green Rot struck the orak and it screamed, falling.
Conscious of the drain to his stamina, Malem Broke four of the weaker-willed oraks and sent them to sow chaos among the enemy ranks.
A group of foot oraks reached the path ahead and intercepted the party. They held out their bronze pikes, which were designed specifically for impaling mounts, and braced the far end of the shafts against the ground.
Two oraks crouched like that directly in front of Vesuvius and Stridesfast. Malem tried to Break those two oraks, but they proved to be of the stronger-willed variety.
Clear a path for the horses! Malem sent.
Abigail swung around to the north and released her fire magic. The pikemen lit up, their armor covered in flames. The two oraks left the path, flailing about, cooking in their own juices.
“Save some for me!” Xaxia complained.
“And me!” Timlir said.
The other members of the party launched remote attacks at the remaining attackers, but more oraks came to fill in the gaps that formed when monsters fell. They were too many to get them all.
While the horses had a clear path, none of the reptiles did. But these were no ordinary mounts: they leaped right over the oraks and their pikes. Malem leaned down during his own leap, grasping the reptile’s legs so he wouldn’t tumble off, and swung Balethorn in a wide arc that beheaded one of the oraks as he passed overtop.
He landed clear of the oraks, as did the other reptiles, and they continued alongside the horses.
More oraks began to rush over the path ahead, coming hooting and howling from hidden spots in the mountain. They arrived singly, and were easily dispatched by Malem, Xaxia, and Timlir. Arrows and bolts also occasionally harried the party, but Timlir was there to intercept them with his ax.
A rock elemental arose ahead, in the middle of the path, this one composed of the surrounding obsidian. There was an earth mage somewhere among the oraks. No time to ferret out the summoning creature. Nor to fight the rock elemental.
We need to move it out of the way of the horses! Malem said. And fast!
Abigail created several huge fireballs and launched them in a row. The flaming objects flew across the route, and the impacts caused the rock elemental to stumble backward, partially off the path.
Almost!
Weyanna unleashed a similar barrage of ice balls next, but the rock elemental was ready, and stood its ground more readily this time.
If Xaxia and Timlir had to swerve their mounts onto the surrounding jagged rocks to avoid the elemental, the horses would become lame, Malem was certain of it…
Mauritania teleported in a blur of green from her mount. She appeared in front of the rock elemental with blades drawn, and hit it rapidly in several quick blows. When that failed to move the creature, she slid the blades back into their sheaths and clapped her hands together above her, creating a shockwave that sent the entity falling backward.
Smiling, she teleported back to her mount just as it ran by and resumed the ride.
As the party rode past, Mauritania slumped in her saddle, as did Weyanna and Abigail. Malem crushed the wills of the oraks that were bound to him, killing them, and fed it to the trio.
Why didn’t you launch the Green Rot or some other remote magic? Gwenfrieda asked. You just wanted to show off didn’t you?
No, Mauritania said. Sometimes elementals are immune. You saw how it resisted the ice.
More oraks flowed into their path. These ones wielded swords, and came in great numbers. The mounts were forced to slow. There were so many oraks that when Malem swung his sword, there was always an orak for him to hit. His blade droned in disappointment, and fed him no stamina with each strike, wanting instead to drink of dragon blood.
Beside him, Timlir’s ax rose and fell, striking down oraks and lopping off heads little differently than one might hew wood. Xaxia swung Biter in large, sweeping arcs. The blade glowed a bright purple, leaving a scythe-like afterimage across his vision.
Malem instructed the reptiles to lash out at any oraks that got too close. The mounts bashed them with their heads, or ran over any that got too close.
An orak tried to pull Xaxia out of the saddle, but she kicked it, and Malem sliced through its head vertically. Beside him, Gwenfrieda fired her bow at near point-blank range. Sometimes the oraks got close enough to grab the bow, and if that happened she’d kick them away, or strike them with the hard longbow itself.
Unarmed, Sylfi and Brita kicked and punched at any oraks that got too close. Their fists caused more damage than most pugilists Malem had ever seen, caving skulls and collapsing chests. Oraks were always sent reeling away, their faces reduced to a bloody pulp.
Abigail and Weyanna also resorted to using their hands and feet as weapons, too tired to use their magical abilities. Mauritania was in a similar situation, and instead wielded her sword-like daggers, Tiercel and Peregrine, to deadly effect. Goldenthall waved a rusty sword around him like a lunatic, giggling madly as he slit orak throats or gouged eyes. Blood sprayed his ragged cloak, and his exposed flesh, so that Malem couldn’t tell if the man was injured in any way.
Pikes sometimes found their marks, as did swords, but so far, most of those hits were only glancing, or struck armored parts. Malem took a pike to the chest plate for example, but it didn’t pierce his dragonscale armor. Gwenfrieda was hit with a sword in the arm, and Timlir took a blade to the thigh, but once again their armor saved them.
The unarmed mounts however were taking quite the punishment. Cuts and scrapes covered the creatures. The face of Malem’s reptile had become a glistening crimson, due to a gaping wound across the temple area.
Malem was flagging from the effort of wielding the heavy blade, so he Broke more weak-willed oraks around him and crushed them to take the stamina. But the effort required quickly outweighed the gain, with each destroyed orak returning less and less stamina, so that soon he abandoned the practice entirely.
“Why aren’t your mages fighting?” Timlir said.
“Too tired!” Malem replied, knocking aside a pike that was trying to find his face. On the repartee, he struck the responsible orak through the heart.
“Tired?” Xaxia said. “Here!”
She tossed him her blade.
Malem grabbed the hilt of Biter in his free hand, and sheathed Balethorn. He glanced at her in thanks—but she was busy withdrawing a spare dagger from a sheath in her ankle. She held it blade down to strike out at nearby oraks.
He transferred the glowing purple blade to his dominant hand and struck out at the oraks. The blade flared brightly with each impact,
and he felt the stamina flow into him in great waves.
Oraks. Biter’s favorite food.
He fed that stamina to Abigail, Weyanna, and Mauritania.
Abigail sat up straight and launched a veritable wall of fire before her that tore through the orak ranks. Weyanna followed that with an ice shard attack that rained death upon the survivors. Mauritania launched her disintegration magic at the final numbers that blocked their path, and the oraks broke apart as the magic swept past.
That did it. The team broke through the ranks. Their mounts spurred forward, away from the mass of hooting and howling creatures. Timlir brought up the rear, using his ax to absorb any arrows.
“Dark mage!” Timlir shouted.
Malem turned around to glance over his shoulder, but Mauritania was already unleashing the Green Rot. It traveled through the incoming mist, sweeping it up, continuing toward the mage that launched it. That mage abandoned the attack and turned around to flee, but the Green Rot swept him off his feet and he landed with green veins spreading across his now bare thighs.
“Xaxia!” Malem said.
She turned toward him, and saw him beckon with the sword. She sheathed her dagger, and then he tossed her Biter.
“Thank you!” she said.
“No, thank you!” Malem told her, drawing Balethorn again.
He urged the mounts on. He fed some of the fresh stamina he had drained to the creatures, who were slowly bleeding out from their wounds. The horses weren’t too badly injured, but they definitely perked up when he sent stamina their way.
The oraks were fast receding behind them. They howled in disappointment, but it looked like they weren’t going to pursue. This particular war band didn’t seem to possess any mounts. Too bad for them.
He had only just returned his attention to the fore when he heard a terrible roar behind him.
“Uh, don’t tell me that’s what I think it is,” Gwenfrieda said. She peered behind her, a terrified expression on her face.
“A Balor!” Goldenthall giggled. “It’s a Balor!” He still held his sword, the dented and rusty surface well-oiled in the blood of oraks.
Malem turned around.