by C. K. Rieke
“How long now, you think?” Fewn whispered to Lilaci.
“Don’t know,” she replied, still holding onto Fewn’s hand. She felt Fewn grip a little tighter. “You could ask Veranor if you wish.”
“We both know it’ll be over any horizon,” Fewn said. “Does it worry you to know neither of us has been to the Oasis of Azgobinadan? So we’ll be at a stark disadvantage fighting another one of them.”
“A city is a city,” Lilaci said, “we just need to find a clearing, another courtyard. We can do this.” Lilaci caught a strange look Fewn gave down at their hands holding one another, and one of her eyebrows was raised. Lilaci looked down and Fewn looked away quickly. She saw her hand was shaking.
She released their grip, and Lilaci took her other hand and hid the shaking hand beneath it.
“Don’t worry about that,” Lilaci said, rubbing her hand. “That’s only just a little tremble that’s been happening, mostly when I have too many thoughts rumbling around in my head.”
“When don’t we have bad thoughts anymore?” Fewn laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
“We have plenty of food and water for her while she travels,” Lilaci said, “it’s nice to not have to eat cactus every day.”
“Yuck,” Fewn said, slipping her tongue out of her mouth in a gagging gesture. “I never want to eat that slimy stuff ever again! Even the thought of it makes my stomach turn, it’s enough to make you miss Sorock.”
“I think I’ll just settle for a couple of wagons with fresh water and—” Lilaci noticed a murmuring was beginning over the ranks of the Knights of the Whiteblade. It seemed to be happening like a wave from the head of the caravan, and Lilaci noticed something ahead on the horizon.
The sky seems... warm over the next set of dunes. Like... fire. It's unmistakable, Scindír is over the horizon, and it's still ablaze from the dragon. That means either the dragon’s attack has lasted for... days, or the dragon is still there.
Then, to what first sounded like thunder in the distance, came the dragon’s call. It was muted and far off. But Lilaci knew then what the dragon truly was—a monster. It must be even bigger than Tirilin, and it’s had time to wreak its havoc. I hope there are still some alive. So many live atop that oasis. How could you Dânoz? How could you be fine with so many lost? Is there no soul in any of you gods?
“You ready for this?” Fewn asked Lilaci, but then Lilaci looked over to see Kera leaping down off the front of the wagon.
“She needs to stay out here,” Lilaci said to Fewn, so that Kera couldn’t hear.
“You know she won’t,” she replied. “You know deep down that she’s not any safer out here. She is better off with us, wherever we go now.” Lilaci knew she was right, and slightly regretted her instinctual comment, but she always wanted more than anything to keep her safe from harm, but harm is exactly where they were going—to Arralyn, but now, a mad dragon lay between them and their destination.
A hardened focus rose in Lilaci there as Kera ran up and began to walk next to her. The dragon is either going to flee from the onslaught we are about to unleash upon it, or it is going to die. There is no other option. Nothing will keep us from our destiny.
Every passing minute the tension grew, like tightly winding thread around a spool, wrapping tighter and tighter; the thread ready to snap at any second, unraveling into chaos. Kera walked silently, and Lilaci worked on focusing the pain away, clearing her mind for the full strength of the Sanzoral. The soldiers ran past, from the head to the rear, spreading information, although none stopped to inform Lilaci and the others. But she didn’t pull any aside, she knew what lay ahead. They all did, especially after their last dragon battle in Voru.
With every step closer the sky before them grew more orange and redder, with thick, black smoke billowing up to add to the dark-formed clouds that hung ominously above. The great dragon ahead roared again, so loud and so ferocious it seemed to make the ground beneath their feet crack and break. Then, they saw it. Silhouetted in the rising fires rose a massive dragon, fire erupting out of its maw, spewing death upon any below. Its wings reached far across the sky as it glided across the tips of the highest points in the city, which were now coming into view.
At the center of the madness crept up the high white towers of the Palace of Āsobôr, home to King Garrond. The city sprawled out as wide as Voru. All of it was releasing black smoke up into the sky. The dragon let out another great screech that immediately silenced the bustling Knights of the Whiteblade, drawing all eyes to the monster that soared the skies before them, as it drifted back to the ground, disappearing.
An eerie tension shot through the ranks of the Whiteblades. The Reevins were powerful and vicious wizards, but the Whiteblades were able to attack them from the shadows—take them by surprise. There would be no surprising this dragon, it would sense them from miles off, and would swords and spears even be useful against such a foe? Or were its dragonscales too thick for anything to pierce through?
Then another dragon roar was heard, but not as distant as the one before, and not as mighty. Lilaci looked overhead to see a pair of dragons with their wings out wide, flying over Kera. Many of the Whiteblade let out yells of excitement, as they now had dragons again at their backs for the first time since the Great Serpentine Wars. They threw up their helmets and empty mugs.
Lilaci realized the roar hadn’t come from Herradax, but Kôrran. It was much louder than she’d ever heard from him.
“He’s grown,” Veranor said from behind Lilaci in a calm voice.
“Yes.” Kera used her hand to cover her eyes as she looked to the sky and her dragons. “They both have, haven’t they? Herradax looks almost full-grown now.”
“Not nearly the size of the dragon in the city,” Fewn said. “But yes, she is larger, and I dare say at full strength again. We have a chance with them.”
Lilaci knew the fight wouldn’t be easy, their two dragons together wouldn’t even match half the size of the dragon laying the siege on Scindír.
“When it comes to dragons size matters,” Veranor said. “Their scales are thicker, their teeth sharper, their fire burns hotter.” His gaze shot to Lilaci. “Are you ready for this battle? I will call the Aridons, but I believe this fight will rest heavily on your shoulders. You can do this.”
All eyes were on her, even many of the soldiers around. Kera’s eyes were soft and gentle, but eager for a strong answer, something to not only give her confidence in the fight ahead, but perhaps also to know that Lilaci could protect her dragons—her babies.
Lilaci looked eastward again, to the burning city and the sky that looked like a volcano had erupted.
“I’m ready,” she said, brushing away the pain in her hand, gripping the hilt of her sword, and Herradax let out a screeching roar above. The Knights of the Whiteblade let out a mighty battle-cry with the dragon.
The dragon in the city seemed to hear Herradax’s call, and returned its own ferocious roar, it was so powerful, even at its distance, Herradax didn’t return a roar of her own, and the Whiteblades silenced themselves at the might of the dragon ahead.
Lilaci said she was ready, but when is any living person ever ready to fight a dragon? If there was one alive in all of the Arr with the strength to do so, she knew it was her, and her alone.
Part V
Obsidrox
Chapter Twenty-Five
Black smoke poured into the sky, thick and layered like a dark mountain rising out of the desert itself. Overhead there was nothing but the dark clouds that shielded the light of the moon and the stars from the city. The only light came from the unmistakable glow of dragonfire. It had become a haunting sight once again in these lands, it was a dark-glowing, and long-lasting fire that held a dark-auburn light wrapped around the white flames of the interior of the fire. And the smell... It was a musty, old smell, like walking into a wet, dank cave with a fire burning with hay within. There was another smell mixed with that aroma of dragonfire that almost seemed to go hand in
hand with it—the smell of death—flesh seared off bodies in a second, vaporized, and the smell of smoldering human bones. Many of the Knights of the Whiteblade became sick once entering the city. Lilaci worried that she was getting used to the smell.
They entered the western gates of the city, a high-rising white, pearly entrance with two turrets reaching thirty feet up, where soldiers would almost certainly be stationed. The thick-wooden doors with silver hinges would be locked and guarded at this time of night, but now they were hanging open... outward.
The thing that perplexed Lilaci most was what Kera asked her then as they walked through the gate. “Why is the dragon not attacking us?”
Lilaci looked up as Herradax leaped over the gate with a single flap of her wings, and Kôrran followed her, both landing elegantly on the other side, although it rattled the ground at their feet.
“I don’t know,” Lilaci said, scratching her chin.
“It's gone mad,” Gogenanth said, clutching his large scimitar in his hand, not bothering to use his magic to shield them, as they were ready for a fight. “It only thirsts for more destruction.”
They looked out in the distance at the great dragon, gliding across the sky, its dark wings breaking the red glow from the city burning below, its long tail lined with spikes flowing behind it. It let out another furious spew of dragonfire upon the city, followed by a great roar that echoed throughout the city. The dragon was far off in the north-eastern part of the city, as it fell back to the ground, miles off, possibly to feed, Lilaci worried.
Her gaze then went to the pearly-white tower at the center of the city, off to the right of the dragon’s current attack. The Palace of Āsobôr was unlike the Erodoran in almost all respects. Āsobôr was an ancient structure, as old-looking as the Arr itself. As Erodoran in Voru was a golden pyramid with six sides and an uncountable number of slender windows with golden statues at each of its sides, Āsobôr looked more like a mountain, if anything else. It grew slowly, in rows of almost stalagmite-looking chambers, it resembled walking into an old cave with water dripping slowly down, over millions of years forming an unworldly landscape. At the center of the rows of high-growing white pillars was the palace itself—a fortress that looked more like a white mountain with spikes of rock rising in and around it, yet it also seemed elegant to Lilaci. It looked more like some divine, ancient creature had erected the unstained palace, rather than man. It had stood seemingly unburnt by dragonfire, untarnished by magics and not marked by a single sword’s blade. Āsobôr perhaps was one of those few, magical structures designed to stand there... forever.
As they strode out into the city, the army of the Knights of the Whiteblade became almost inundated by the populous of the city. They clawed at the knights, begging and pleading for help. The army was thousands strong, but the people of Scindír were so distraught and desperate for help that the sight of a fresh army entering into their city must have been like a beacon of light out on the sea if stuck out alone in a violent storm. They swam toward the army in droves.
Lilaci clutched onto Kera tightly, wrapping her up in both arms. Fewn huddled into them as the citizens of the city ran past them, not noticing them as much as the army behind. Lilaci looked over to see Gogenanth standing at least a head above everyone else, holding Ezmerelda into him. She began to wonder if he would begin his spell to hide them from the rushing mob. Veranor... Where is Veranor?
Just as she thought that, she sensed something close to her right ear, and she turned her head to hear his voice.
“Now is our chance,” Veranor whispered. “Let’s be off at once.” He motioned to Gogenanth to come to them, and he and Ezmerelda agreed, walking over toward them.
“No,” Lilaci said, still holding in Kera.
“This is just the distraction we need,” he said, with his eyes wide and eager.
Lilaci looked down at Kera, who only looked like a frightened child now in the middle of the madness ensuing around them. As Gogenanth came over to them, Veranor was already making his way to Gogenanth’s ear. She looked around quickly, trying to catch a glimpse of Burr, which she found after a few moments, as he was shouting and pushing back at the mob that was moving now through his army’s ranks. She waved a hand toward him, and with a glance of his one eye, he seemed to think a moment, then nodded and began to head over. Veranor noticed this quickly and left Gogenanth’s ear. Gogenanth looked deep in contemplation.
Demetrius came over to stand in front of Lilaci. “Everyone all right?” he asked, still looking around at the confusion.
“What should we do?” Lilaci asked, “I feel we should just make for the palace, your army is pinned down, but we can move now. You can meet us there when you’re free.”
Burr looked up toward the palace that lay only a couple of miles ahead, he must have known it would take his army a handful of times longer to reach the palace than their smaller party. He nodded. “I’ll send you along with a small battalion,” he said.”
Veranor scoffed.
“You’ve something to add?” Burr said, furrowing his brow and glaring at him.
“We’ve no need for soldiers,” Veranor said, his gaze going over to the two dragons ahead of them, both standing on the hard ground, looking forward toward the great dragon ravishing the city.
Burr seemed heavy in thought.
“We will be fine,” Lilaci said, running her hand over Kera’s silky black hair. “You are needed with your men. Meet us when you can at the palace. If the dragon comes for us, you’ll know.”
He nodded, but the corners of his mouth were curled down. She could tell he didn’t like the idea of leaving them, but his ranks were being scattered and confused by the scared citizens. “Hurry off then, we’ll meet each other soon at Āsobôr.”
Lilaci nodded with a grateful smile, and they were off quickly. Gogenanth lifted his mighty hands above his head and chanted in a low voice. From his hands came down the magical blue wisps of smoke that ran down forming a great orb around them, and once that smoke hit the ground Lilaci knew they were hidden from sight. Yet she knew they would not be safe from the dragon.
They found one of the main roads quickly that seemed to create a straight path to the palace, with its sharp, white stalagmite-spikes glowing in an ominous orange haze from the fires below. The road was filled with more people; terrified and desperate. The dragon in the distance was only a few miles off itself and could be upon them in mere minutes if it pleased, but its mind was bent on fire. They made their way to the palace quickly, with even the two dragons hidden beneath the dome that Gogenanth had created. Lilaci worried how the citizens would react if the spell were to be interrupted, and suddenly two more dragons were in their city. But then she wondered if some of the people had heard of the girl with her dragons that had defeated the great dragon that attacked Voru. Maybe they would welcome the sight of Herradax and Kôrran.
A crowd of thousands surrounded the front gates of the palace, which were tightly shut, and even with the people pounding upon them, they didn’t sway or budge. Standing behind the crowd, Lilaci had not the patience to stroll through the crowd, and they needed to speak with the king at once. “Gogenanth,” she said, nodding her head slowly and waving a hand toward her side. “It’s time they know we are here.”
His hands fell to his sides, and then the screams began. Lilaci and the others stood there behind the mob of thousands, the dragons were now in plain view of any that were willing to lay their eyes upon them. Lilaci released her grip from Kera’s hand, who didn’t want to relinquish the safety of Lilaci’s touch, but she looked down at the girl and smiled. “It’s OK, stay with Fewn.”
Then the violet flames shot into Lilaci again, and her eyes and hands were alight in the fires of the Sanzoral. She brought up enough sand to create a circular platform with a diameter wide enough for both of her boots to fit securely upon, and she rose from the ground.
The citizens, now in a state of shock at the sight of a woman who appeared to be flying, and on fir
e, had seemingly forgotten about the pair of dragons.
“People of Scindír,” Lilaci said in a voice that resembled one of the gods themselves. “We have come to your aid; will you welcome us to speak with your king?” Her eyes went up to the high peaks of the palace. King Garrond Warrgon, we must speak at once!”
Lilaci floated forward, and the others and the dragons followed slowly. The crowd was almost silent, as they started to separate to make way for the group. Small murmurs floated through the crowd, Lilaci hoped the word had spread to them of what happened back in Voru. And to her pleasant surprise, a handful of people began to clap their hands slowly. As they moved forward, the applause erupted to a loud, thunderous roar. They were even cheering. Lilaci looked down to see a wide grin on Kera’s face.
Such a strange feeling. We’ve been out hiding in the desert so long, I’m not used to being welcome, well... anywhere. As they almost made their way through the crowd, the heavy, dark metal doors full of rivets and bolts swung outward. The kingdoms and the people now welcome us, they even applaud our arrival. The world truly is at war now. We are these people’s only chance. I do wonder, will they still welcome us? Or cast us back out into the shadows?
Her boots fell back to the stone ground, as it flickered in the light of the great torches that surrounded the gate on both sides, and what Lilaci assumed was an emissary appeared on the other side of the door. He was draped in long, pale green robes of silk with white trim. His face was wrinkled, as if the face hadn’t worn a smile in too many years. His eyes were a dull blue under his bald, dark-skinned head.