by Sever Bronny
He next opened the map and almost gasped, for no less than twenty-one dragon lairs were marked in plain language and spread out over a vast area, balanced to reflect the eight elements in rough circles, with no single element beside another of the same type. Unfortunately, the lairs were nowhere near the pillars, but instead strung about in a much wider perimeter than what they had explored.
“So that’s what you did with your time,” he muttered to himself, still trying to drown out the slashing noises rebounding in his ears. “You were mapping the lairs, waiting for us to come and find them ourselves. And you must have set up a way to track us depending on where we’ve been, probably by enchanting pebbles and branches or whatnot with Object Alarm, using hellhound noses for the final leg of the hunt.”
Only one of the lairs was on this side of the jungle swath—and it belonged to a necromantic dragon. The lair was just inside the swath, closer to the mountains than the vast jungle of pillars. But as he looked closer, he saw five small X’s grouped on the marking, a higher amount than most.
“It must be a family,” he blurted. “A dragon family. I must have killed one and the others came hunting.” Just as he had suspected. “And a family means more captured eggs. So that’s where we’ll be heading to complete our quest.” Assuming he met up with the girls again. He didn’t even want to consider doing it without them.
He did a rough calculation and estimated the lair to be only about two leagues to the north of his position, or about two hours’ walk at a normal pace, three carrying Haylee. This presented quite the conundrum. He could teleport out on his own and try to track down the others. But even if he left Haylee protected with traps, it was only a matter of time until the jungle got her—or the Canterrans tracked her down. Sure, he could make a couple teleport hops and get out through the portal and see if a Leyan would come to their aid, but something told him he might not get that far if the Canterrans were expecting him to do just that—nor was he at all sure a Leyan would even help.
A creature howled not too distantly, perhaps a third of a league in distance.
“Got to find you safe harbor somewhere, Hayles. A cave would do. I could protect you in a cave. What do you think I should do after that though? Go back to look for Leera and the others? ’Port back to the portal, knowing it’d almost certainly be a trap now? Press on to the necromantic dragon lair in hopes of finding a stolen egg? Or should I find us a cave to hunker down and make a plan?”
Haylee merely snoozed on.
“It’s too dangerous to return to the site of the attack right now, isn’t it, Hayles? Leera would have gotten away and I’d be walking right into a trap.” Yeah, keep telling yourself that she’s okay, you do that. She’s dead. Your beloved is lying in a pool of her own—
“Shut up!” he roared at himself, hearing scything noises. “Shut your stupid face! Shut it!” He breathed as he battered his thoughts into submission, still seeking an answer as to what to do.
Another howl went up—and it sounded closer.
“That’s what I thought too,” Augum finally replied. “First we get you into a cave, then we make a plan from there. Let’s muddy up and keep moving.”
* * *
Not long after departing the duel area, an animalistic fight broke out between scavengers over the Canterrans’ remains. Augum, carrying an unconscious Haylee, forced himself to ignore the gruesome noises and continue walking.
He utilized all his senses on the way, stopping frequently to listen to the night. Now that the dragon attack was over, the darkness steadily became more vibrant with the noises of animals and birds and insects. A small pack of hyena-like wolves began stalking him, but he kept them at bay by leaving arcane First Offensive traps that he could hear being sprung behind him.
Luckily, Haylee was a light carry, though he still needed to put her down often, if only to check on her wound. She drifted in and out of consciousness, mumbling incoherently. He kept giving her water and rubbing mud on both of them to minimize their scent. More than once he had to lash out at a curious creature, even killing another ape-like thing when it thought him an early morning snack.
But he was also exhausted from the ordeal and knew that if he didn’t get some rest soon the jungle would catch him off guard and it would all be over.
He searched about for a place to rest, ideally a cave. When none materialized, he improvised by telekinetically moving a gigantic boulder lodged into the side of a hill. He nearly overdrew in the process, for it was the heaviest thing he had ever moved. But it worked—the boulder left a gaping hole with just enough room for two people. He placed Haylee into it, set a series of First Offensive, Confusion, and Fear traps nearby, and then fortified the entrance with sticks, which he locked in with the Seal spell after ducking inside. Only then, when he was confident in his little cave, did he curl up into a ball between Haylee and the entrance and fall asleep clutching Leera’s cracked portrait with one hand, too exhausted to even repair it yet, and the pommel of Burden’s Edge with the other.
He bolted awake to an explosive sizzling crunch and an animalistic howl of pain—one of his First Offensive traps had been triggered. He looked through a crack in the improvised door and saw a tree-sized lizard-like creature with tiny front arms and a monstrous jaw full of teeth limp off into the bush.
It was raining lightly and the air smelled fresh and flowery. Judging by the light, he estimated that it was mid to late morning—he had miraculously slept his fill.
He noticed Haylee had roused and was staring at the cracked portrait clutched in his hand. He promptly slipped it into his pocket. She looked to him with half-lidded eyes. Her hair and face were splattered with dry mud, her usually shiny blonde hair lanky and unkempt, face scratched up like a cat had attacked her. He suspected he looked even worse.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Weak,” she whispered. “But a little bit better. Did it leave us alone?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it big?”
“Nah,” he lied, not wanting to alarm her. “Hungry?”
“Famished.”
He dug into the Canterran provisions, probably pilfered from Leyan stores—though he conceded it was possible that Tyranecron had gifted them. Besides the chocolate, there were strips of salted and dried Leyan beef, journey bread, and a few Leyan apples. He withdrew Burden’s Edge and cut up an apple, taking turns feeding each of them small chunks, for Haylee was too weak to feed herself. Then he drew out the beef and did the same.
“They have chocolate,” Augum said when he finished his share, digging out the linen-wrapped pieces, Burden’s Edge resting on his lap.
Haylee perked up. “Canterran chocolate?”
“Leyan.” He opened the linen for her to choose a few chunks. She could only nod at the one she wanted, too weak to move.
“Unnameables help me,” she said when he placed one into her mouth. “Mmm. Mmm!” She tried to sit up, the energy from the chocolate reinvigorating her, only for Augum to press her back down, telling her to conserve her strength.
Augum bit down on a piece and took in a sharp breath when the taste exploded onto his tongue. He sucked on the chocolate until it dissolved, then savored the rich flavor before taking another bite.
“All right, time to check on your wound,” he said afterward. She groaned in protest. “Got to be done. Flip over, missy.”
“I don’t want to.”
He gave her a pointed look and she relented, though he had to help her turn over. He peeled back the impromptu bandage made from his shirt and winced. It didn’t smell, which was good, but it was probably too soon to tell for sure. Still, she needed Jengo before an infection took root.
“Doing all right,” he reported. “How’s your strength?”
“Still need at least a day or two of recuperation before I can even think about ’porting.” She smiled. “Lee’s got me abbreviating it too.”
Augum gasped as he heard sharp scything noises. You’re never going
to see her again. In fact, they’re all dead. Even Nana is—
“Shut up!” he roared, punching the side of his head. “Shut it.”
Haylee looked to him with fearful eyes, voice trembling. “Aug—? You’re scaring me.”
“Nothing. It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Just … just trying to focus and come up with a plan.”
She only gave a reluctant nod.
He pondered the problem and, with shelter in place, came up with one—he would teleport around and look for the others for no more than an hour before returning. When he told Haylee of his plan, she looked at the entrance and her lip quivered.
“It’ll only be an hour,” he said. “I’ll set more traps.”
She swallowed. “All right. I’ll muster up the strength to reseal the entrance from the inside. I can fend for myself in here. You go on, find the others, then come get me.” She forced a smile.
“I don’t want you casting anything unless you absolutely have to. I’ll seal the other side. It’ll keep the animals out at least.”
She did not argue and he undid his Seal enchantment. Then he cast two more First Offensive traps nearby, careful not to step on the ones he had already laid, and followed up by casting a pair of Object Alarms on two loose sticks he stuck into the ground.
“Good luck,” she said from within the improvised cave.
“See you soon,” he replied, and focused on the nearest pillar across the swath. “Impetus peragro.”
The pillar turned out to be empty of people—as did the next two pillars he checked, with not a single sign of anyone, not even the Canterrans. But after casting Reveal, he discovered multiple Object Alarm enchantments on sticks and pebbles and branches, which confirmed his earlier theory on how the Canterrans had been tracking them. He once more considered teleporting to the portal to Ley to fetch help, but thought better of it, for if he got captured, Haylee would be left alone to fend for herself, and he couldn’t risk that happening. Whatever he decided, he needed to renew some arcane stamina first, and thus took a seat beside a palm and meditated for a bit. But it wasn’t long until the scything noises and a blood-curdling scream poisoned the peace of the meditation, spoiling it. After fighting it for a while, he gave up and simply rested for a quarter of an hour instead.
“Come on, where are you all?” he muttered afterward, glancing at nearby pillars. Out of ideas, he decided to take a calculated risk and closed his eyes, recalling the scenery where they had been attacked. Besides the boulder and view, the only thing that really came to mind was the monkey tree that stood about forty feet away from the point of attack. It should give him enough time to teleport away in case of a trap. And so he readied himself carefully, going over what he’d do and where he’d teleport off to should the enemy be lying in wait.
“Impetus peragro,” he at last incanted, and appeared a moment later behind the monkey tree. With the spell once more on his lips, he peeked out from behind the furry trunk and saw a blood-smeared rocky ground strewn with the detritus of slain beasts and feasting leather-winged vultures.
A thrill of horror zipped up Augum’s spine, for they were feeding on a body. “Get out of here!” he shouted, running at them and waving his arms. They barely moved, forcing him to slap his wrists together and hiss, “Annihilo,” shooting lightning in their midst. They took to the air—only to land on and around the monkey tree behind him.
But Augum’s attention was focused on the figure lying in a bloody mess before him.
“Dragoon Myrymydion,” he gasped, and fell to his knees beside the man—or what remained of him. His stomach was open and his innards hung out. As a Leyan his blood and innards were black in color. His eyes had been pecked out by the vultures, a hand was missing, and a leg was bent back on itself in a gruesome manner. Surrounding him were beastly entrails and various animal remains—he must have been fighting them long after the initial attack before eventually succumbing to exhaustion and allowing the vultures to finish him off.
And then the old Leyan moaned weakly.
“Sir—! You’re alive!” Augum was frantically trying to think of how he could help, but was afraid of even touching the man lest he accidentally kill him.
“Augum …?”
“I’m right here, sir. What can I do? Please, sir, tell me what—”
“I heard them … speaking … thought me … dead. It was … a trap. Portal … trapped … too.”
“They laid traps around the return portal?”
“Yes …”
“But Mrs. Stone can undo those, right?”
“Tyranecron … took … them … took … Anna …”
Augum felt his blood freeze.
“She is cuffed … will feed her … to dragon … become … Path Archon …”
Augum could hardly believe his ears. He had been utterly wrong—Tyranecron didn’t want to become an Unnameable, he wanted to become a Path Archon!
No, it was more than that. He wanted to learn how to summon dragons—he couldn’t care less about Path ideals. The man had to believe gifting Mrs. Stone to a dragon, what with her potent arcanery, would grant him immense favor with that dragon, perhaps much more …
“Where did they take them?” Augum asked, rocking back and forth.
“Know I …”
“And where’s Leera, sir? Where’s Leera?”
“Know I … not.”
“Did you hear them escape? How can I find them? How can I—”
“Thou shall … never … find them …”
Augum was shaking his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t you … don’t you say that, sir. Don’t you say that to me. Don’t you … don’t …”
“Hear me … Tyranecron … attempting … complex … ritual. Will take … two nights. Thou hast … two nights … will bring them … to lair.”
“Sir—”
“Hear me … only way … must learn … Spirit of … the Dragon.”
“Is this all an illusion, sir? An Arcaner test of some sort?”
“No illusion … remember … thy … lessons …”
“Sir, please, how can I help you survive?”
Myrymydion’s voice was but the barest of whispers now. “Leave … me … be. Do … thy … duty. Learn simul … and save them. Save … Sithesia …”
“Sir, wait, please, help me. Please—”
“Alas, hear I the songs … once more. They echo … off the walls … of the Great Hall …”
“Sir, please—”
“Semperis …”
“Sir, no—”
“Vorto …”
Augum shook a sightless Myrymydion. “No, no, no—!”
“Honos …”
“Sir! Sir—!”
But the man had gone still. He had been waiting for Augum, keeping himself alive all night just to impart this precious knowledge.
Augum gaped at the bloody face, at the tattooed mustache, at the awful and final state of a man who had lived for four hundred eighty-seven years … a man who had taken his last breath in Augum’s arms.
Myrymydion had been the last Arcaner of old.
Now it was up to him to bring about a new era—and his fellow Arcaners, if he could find and save them.
Augum let go, hands shaking. “May your soul find the peace that you honorably deserve, Dragoon Myrymydion,” he whispered, lower lip trembling, feeling like those were the right words to say.
He wanted to sit with Myrymydion and mourn him. He wanted to bury the body and protect it. But the vultures kept creeping closer and the enemy could appear at any moment.
Augum gave Myrymydion’s cold hand a squeeze. “I shall see you in the sacred flames of the memorial fire, sir.”
Then he jumped to his feet and glanced about in search of clues. The contents of their rucksacks had been pilfered and lay strewn about, no doubt by the Canterrans in an effort to uncover where the friends would meet. But Mrs. Stone had planned for their possible capture by instructing that if such a thing happened
they were to either continue on their quests or return to Ley—they were not to attempt to save anyone, as it would be suicide.
“And that’s why you dishonorable bastards laid a trap back at the portal after capturing Nana,” Augum murmured as he quickly searched through their stuff. “You know that’s our only way out.” At last he found what he was looking for—his mother’s locket, tangled in the strap of a charred rucksack, the unrecoverable burned remains of the wooden heart with the words special fool, and the birthday necklace of charms. He jammed the locket and birthday necklace into a separate pocket from Leera’s portrait and briefly mourned the loss of the wooden heart. Nothing else was salvageable, having been stolen or burnt beyond recognition.
And then an alarm went off in his head, promptly followed by a second.
Haylee was in trouble.
After swatting away a vulture, he mournfully glanced one last time at the still form of Myrymydion before focusing on the cave location. “Impetus peragro.” The moment he appeared beside the cave, he heard Haylee shrieking in terror as a fat lizard thing the size of a horse snapped its jaws at the doorway—luckily the Seal casting was holding.
Augum slapped his wrists together and spat, “Annihilo bato!” obliterating it on the spot. Two other monster bodies lay nearby in pieces, having sprung his First Offensive traps.
“Thank the Unnameables you came back,” Haylee wheezed as he cleared the bodies, dumping them a ways into the bush, where they would at least serve as a lure away from the cave.
“They came real quick after you left—clever bastards had been waiting. So what’s the news?”
Augum slumped to the ground beside the doorway, hiding his face from her.
“Aug? What happened? Aug—?” Haylee tearfully crawled up to the doorway, groaning from the effort, and grabbed the wooden bars. “Talk to me … please.”
Augum’s throat was dry as he cupped Leera’s portrait in his pocket with one hand, the necklace and locket with the other. His voice was cold and to the point.
“Myrymydion’s dead. They have Nana. Tyranecron is performing a ritual. Wants to feed her to a dragon. Become a Path Archon. Summon dragons like us. There’s a necro lair with four dragons inside. That’s where he’ll take Nana, I think. Oh, and the return portal is a trap. We have two days.”