War Dragons

by C. K. Rieke

  Lilaci jumped and fell onto Kera, trying to smother her, sheltering her from the fire with Lilaci’s own body. The eruption of dragon fires was too much for Lilaci to be able to find her magic. But as Lilaci opened her eyes she saw a stray, white flame singe the sand just under Kera’s hair and right ear. Lilaci could feel the intense heat from the flame already and dropped her left shoulder to try to extinguish it, but the searing heat proved too much, and she was forced to pull back. She watched helplessly as the flame fell on the unseen side of Kera’s face.

  Kera screamed like Lilaci had never heard before, and Lilaci felt as weak as she ever had, watching her little girl in pain.

  “Get up!” she heard as gripping hands grabbed onto both of her shoulders, lifting her. Veranor’s words seemed distant, as she watched Kera crying as Lilaci was trying to keep her safe but failing. “Lilaci, get up! We have to move!”

  He overpowered her and lifted her forcefully back to her feet, as she lifted a limp Kera up from the sand.

  “Come on, run,” he said, ripping Kera from Lilaci’s weakened grasp, and as Lilaci watched Veranor carry Kera off, cradled limply in his arms, she began to run after. The fires of the dragons continued on behind, the heat was building to an unfathomable temperature, it was if the sun had arrived here in Scindír, for the greatest battle ever fought within its walls.

  Kera... I couldn’t save her...

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The two dragonfires gradually died down behind Lilaci as she ran, breathing heavily not only from the sheer heat behind, or the speed of her sprinting, but for her frantic worry for Kera. Veranor ran quickly, with Kera still bobbing limply in his arms, and as he peered over his shoulder to the two dragons behind them, he slowed, and lowered Kera’s body to the black-scorched ground. Lilaci nearly shoved him to the ground to reach Kera, and she paused as the Dragon’s Breath’s skin was paler than normal, and she was breathing, slowly and shallowly.

  “Kera,” Lilaci said with a hand over her mouth. Kera’s head was turned to the side, still hiding her right cheek that had been burned by Obsidrox’s fire. Behind them a furious battle was raging, with the black dragon letting out fearsome roars, snarling and biting at its attackers. The Aridons’ growling sounded like a beast from another world, they were so ferocious and vicious that any other monster in this world would tremble at them, all but the dragons.

  Lilaci reached down and gently touched Kera’s chin, and reluctantly, she began to move Kera’s head to inspect the other side of her face. She worried she was going to find a black face free of skin, with an eye missing; burned away. And tears came to her eyes when she found the girl’s head free of all blemishes.

  “The stones protect her,” Veranor said from over her shoulder.

  Lilaci smiled. “Wake up Kera, wake up.”

  Kera was dazed, but opened her eyes slowly, and vaguely focused on Lilaci. “Help her.”

  “Help who?” Lilaci asked.

  “My dragon, she needs help.”

  The dragons fought behind her, and she saw Obsidrox had Herradax pinned down with her lumbering wing, as Herradax writhed to break free, but was unable to. Lilaci didn’t look back at Kera but rose to her feet.

  “Watch Kera,” she said, and the tears and panic she’d felt only seconds before welled themselves into a deep focus. The Sanzoral had returned to her. Her head was clear, and her focus driven upon the black dragon.

  Without hesitation, Lilaci let the fires rip through her, and they shot out at astonishing speed and fury. They inched their way toward Obsidrox, who seemed startled by the unseen attack, and moved back and away from the fires, lifting its wings to repel the flames of the Sanzoral as it blasted onto the wing. Lilaci took solid strides forward, pushing the flames harder and stronger against the dragon.

  Obsidrox hardly flinched or moved back, as the fires seemed to deflect against the thick dragonscale upon the creature’s wing.

  “Lilaci,” she heard Veranor’s voice say from just behind her.

  “I told you to stay with her,” she said to him, still sending out the gushing flames.

  “Lilaci, Kera heard Herradax’s voice in her mind. She told her she thinks the dragon has a weak spot just where the bottom of her jaw meets the tip of her neck. Herradax says there is a rotten smell there, like a speck that hasn’t recovered and grown like the rest of its body.”

  Lilaci let her fires die down after only another second, but she continued to let the flames burn in her hands. Obsidrox let down his wing, and heaved its tail once again, brushing away many of the Knights of the Whiteblade, and crushing others. Herradax was beginning to regain her strength, but instead of flying back up to attack the black dragon, she began to walk toward Lilaci, looking into her eyes, as if trying to speak to her through the gaze.

  “I heard you, Herradax,” Lilaci said, and with another burst of fire from her arms, pushing through the vibrant pain in the entirety of her body, she sent the violet, burning flames of the Sanzoral at the dragon once more. The fires didn’t burn in great plumes like before, now they were two solid, cylindrical fires that intertwined to one, and shot out toward the dragon’s neck.

  Obsidrox moved its head away and to the side once it noticed the flames, but her fires shot to the side, keeping on track to strike the dragon’s neck, and as the dragon tried to move once again to evade the flames, Lilaci pushed forward with great intensity, and the flames plunged to the spot Herradax had smelled the rot.

  The black dragon’s eyes shot open wide, and its great maw opened too, with its slithering tongue writhing around in the air. Hints of white flames sparked from the dragon’s mouth in short sparks. The attack had worked, whatever that spot was, the dragon was in real pain for the first time, and looking down at the dragon’s body, she saw Fewn hard at work on that same spot on its leg.

  “That’s it,” Veranor said behind her. “Harder. Deeper!”

  Lilaci roared, sending out a vibrant, violet light that illuminated the whole battle, and she sensed the Whiteblades had paused their attack to view the spectacle.

  Obsidrox moved its head from side to side, trying to free itself of the attack, but Lilaci sent the flames wherever it moved, following that one spot, just below the dragon’s jaw. It roared and screeched, trying to lift its wings to fly away, they both fell loosely to its sides. As Lilaci pressed on, pushing the flames more intently at the spot, the burning in her arms, elbow, shoulders and chest felt as if they were going to cause her to erupt into flames. The pain was too much, and she let her fires die, dropping to a knee in exhaustion, Veranor caught her before she fell completely over.

  The dragon continued to bark out and roar, writhing in pain even with Lilaci’s fires hounding the wound. But it did seem to regather its wits and with an energetic burst of effort, it lifted its wings high into the air, and clapped them down thunderously. The dragon’s legs were lifted from the ground then, and the gust of air sent the army of men below clinging to the ground, not to be swept away.

  Another giant clap of the wings lifted the dragon higher, still roaring loudly, with streaks of white flames crackling from its mouth as it flew up. Fewn had removed her sword and was falling now, a full fifteen feet down to the flat ground. And as the dragon turned to make its way back to the northern sky, the Aridons and Kôrran continued their attack, scraping, tearing, and biting.

  Lilaci breathed in deep breaths, trying to recover from what felt like being incinerated from the inside. Kera had gotten to her feet and made her way over to wrap her arms around Lilaci’s neck and the giant dragon flew off into the black sky, still glowing in the light of the blaze of the city below.

  “We did it,” Kera said, running her hand over Lilaci’s head and coarse, gray hairs. “We won.”

  Herradax suddenly collapsed to her side, letting a plume of soft sand raise up around her.

  Kera gasped, and ran over to the dragon, whose head and neck were limp against the ground, and her eyes were shut.

  Lilaci managed to s
tand with the help of Veranor. Gogenanth, Ezmerelda and Fewn were making their way over, running as quickly as they could.

  Kera got to the dragon first, and she ran her hands over the dragon’s scales on its head and neck. Herradax was breathing softly, almost as if dreaming.

  “Is she hurt?” Ezmerelda asked, holding her hand to her cheek. Behind her the army of the Knights of the Whiteblade had begun their cheers over the victory.

  “I don’t know,” Kera said, her eyes moving over the dragon’s body, frantically scanning for any evidence of injury.

  The dragon’s eyes opened to tight slivers, and she looked up at Kera, still not lifting her head.

  “What’s wrong, girl?” Kera asked, then her eyes glassed over. For a full minute they all stood around watching as neither Kera, nor anyone spoke, but Kera was motionless, staring blankly. After that minute, the dragon’s eyes closed, and the light in Kera’s silver eyes returned. None had to ask what had happened, as they already knew.

  “What did she say?” Lilaci asked, laying a hand gently on Kera’s back.

  “She—she said,” Kera said, while choking up with tears, barely able to speak, “she said, she’s pregnant... pregnant.” Her face fell into her hands when she said that.

  There was a heavy silence that lingered thick in the air as Kera wept.

  “Why are you crying?” Fewn asked, “that’s good news. There will be more dragons now.”

  “No,” Kera said, lifting her head and looking remorsefully at her. “No, you don’t understand. She thinks she... she thinks she lost the baby. Herradax’s heart is breaking. She told me she wants to die herself.”

  “Oh, Herradax...” Lilaci said, covering her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

  “She was crushed under the weight of Obsidrox,” Kera said, “and her insides feel like they are broken. Her soul was crushed, and she fears the dragon egg inside of her was killed.” Kera brought both hands up to her eyes again and cried.

  I should have been quicker, I could have kept the dragon away from her. I should have saved her, I could have saved the baby.

  Just then, Kôrran swept down from out of the sky next to Herradax. He sniffed and nudged her with his red snout, and as his nose made its way to her chest and stomach, the magical intensity of the dragon vanished, and the fire in his eyes diminished as he lay next to her, lifting his red wing over her side, and laying his neck over hers as she lay still. Kôrran let out thin, wheezing breaths of air.

  As the dragon whimpered, Veranor said in a soft voice, “He’s the father.”

  Kera went over and spread out her arms wide onto his wing, consoling him as he grieved for his unborn offspring. Lilaci walked over slowly and lay a hand on the wing, feeling Herradax’s slow breathing beneath, then she wrapped her arms around Kera and the dragons. Then Fewn went over and did the same, trying to console the dragons, and then Ezmerelda went over weeping to do the same. Gogenanth and Veranor then went over and lay one of their hands on Kôrran’s wing, lowering their heads.

  Kôrran lifted his head and let out a single screech that echoed out, rippling through the courtyard. It was a soul-reaching roar that sent chills through Lilaci as she wept. The Whiteblades’ cheering halted, as they watched Lilaci and her friends console the dragons.

  All that was heard throughout the city of Scindír at that moment was the slow burn of flames burning the city, and the grieving roar of a dragon who’d just lost his first baby.

  Part VI

  Whispers of the Past

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The white Palace of Āsobôr stood high at the city-center, more like a tomb now than a gleaming ancient palace. Scindír had fallen victim to the worst attack of its history in thousands of years. Thin trails of gray smoke still rose to the reddening sky like the city had holes in it and the fumes of the Undersands were being expelled.

  There was a quiet bustle around the city as the soldiers of Scindír, and the survivors struggled to put out the deadly dragon fires. All throughout the night the city wept, they wept to grieve their families lost. So many had died in the dragon’s attack, and there were so many gone without a trace.

  As the Knights of the Whiteblade flowed out of the courtyard where the last battle with the dragon took place, they had to walk past the skeletons of their fallen comrades, burnt black and some even still in the same position they were in when the white dragonfire swept into them. The Whiteblades were a tenacious army, full of hardened men and soldiers, but they were still human, and many wept at the sight of their friends, murdered by the dragon. Some of the fallen left nothing to even bury them.

  Near the center of the courtyard still lay Herradax, with Kôrran next to her, and Kera asleep next to them. Kôrran’s whimpering had died down over the course of the night as he finally found sleep.

  “She hasn’t moved all night,” Fewn said, over by the others, thirty yards from the dragons. She was removing the armor from her shoulders, and once she flung it to the ground she arched her back to stretch, then she popped her neck. “Herradax does seem to have lost her spark. I hope her soul’s not truly broken.”

  “I don’t know,” Ezmerelda said, sitting cross-legged on the ground, leaning back, her fingers were twiddling a single blue flower that sprouted up out of the base of one of the many fountains. “Once you’ve lost a child... you never forget it.”

  Lilaci, who had been scuffing the black, burn marks from her boots, shot her gaze to her in surprise. But she didn’t say anything.

  “Ezmerelda?” Gogenanth asked, as he was just walking by, shirtless, looking for a place to clean his clothing. His eyebrow sprung up. “Are you speaking out of... personal experience?”

  She nodded. “Sadly yes.” The fingers on her right hand came up to her mouth, perhaps to steady her lips. “I think about it every day. It’s not something you can just forget.”

  He went over, knelt and placed her hand in his. “I’m sorry, my love... I didn’t know.”

  “Well,” she said, with a smile quickly growing across her face, “you didn’t think you were the only one I ever slept with, right?” She let out a hearty laugh, as if trying to force the sadness from her mind.

  A half-hearted smile went across his face, but Lilaci could see the sadness in his eyes, as she’d seen before, over a decade ago, when he was just a boy.

  “It happened years ago.” She stood up then, brushing off her rear, then clapping the ash off her hands. “And Herradax is young, she will have another. Oh look, Burr and Alveron are approaching.”

  Gogenanth seemed to want to keep the conversation going, as he surely had many more questions but Burr and Alveron came over quickly. Burr had removed his hood and cloak, and had only a sleeveless, fresh green shirt on, showing the many scars on his aged, yet sleek-muscled arms. Alveron had seemed to just have shaved his head clean, letting the dark skin on his head attain a red hue from the sky, his white beard was also freshly cleaned.

  “Lilaci,” Alveron said with a serious look in his eyes, but then bowed his head to her. He extended a hand to her. “Well fought.”

  She reached out and took his hand, as he shook it firmly. She bowed her head, but only slightly.

  “We won because of you,” he said, then with a strange hint of a smile. “That was like nothing I have ever seen.”

  “Well it wasn’t the first time she’s killed a dragon,” Burr said, winking at her with his one eye.

  Was that a wink, or just a blink? She giggled.

  “Aye,” Alveron said, “but that was surely the biggest, and the most monstrous I’d have to wager.”

  “I should have fought harder,” she said grimly, “I am heartbroken for your losses. Your men fought with tenacity, their souls will be welcomed as well-remembered warriors in the Great Realm in the Sky.”

  “Yes, we lost many,” Burr said, “but it could have been all of us had it not been for you. You all, actually. Kera too, is she still sleeping with her dragons? Poor child must be exhausted. War is no place for ch
ildren, but she’s no ordinary normal girl, eh?”

  “I think we’ll need to give her some time to grieve, and rest,” Lilaci said. “Then we will be back on our way.”

  “I’m sure there’s a bed with fresh linens ready for her to rest her head upon,” Veranor said, looking up to the high white tips of the palace. “There’s a grateful king up there who’d like to reward a city’s saviors I’d wager.”

  “Yes, we’ll make our way to the palace soon,” Lilaci said, inhaling deeply, and smelling some sort of meat roasting over a fire. “First we need to replenish our strength and find a place to lay our own heads.”

  “It always comes as a surprise how hungry we are after winning a battle,” Fewn said, smacking her lips. “It’s as if the stomach knows when it’s time to celebrate too.”

  “Aye,” Alveron said, “tis true. Our soldiers will have their fun today, and their bellies will find all the ale, wine and filling food they wish. It's not often such a victory comes about, this truly is a good day. He looked up at the rising sun as the red-colored ribbons of clouds were now glowing a soft, heavenly yellow glow, and a handful of blue, chirping birds fluttered by overhead.

  “Are you coming to celebrate with us?” Fewn asked Burr.

  “I will stop by and share a mug with you at some point,” he replied, “but there will not be time to celebrate for us this day. We still have much to plan and decide on our way forward.”

  “What’s there to decide?” Fewn laughed, “we’re going to the home of the gods themselves. Kera’s going to help us kill them.”

  Burr had an uncertain look on his face, one that Lilaci hadn’t seen often.

  “Yes,” Alveron said, “that’s the plan. We must figure out the best way forward. Sailing the seas is no trifling matter, it’s much more unforgiving than the sands. A storm at sea leaves you with nothing to cling to if the boat fails.”