by Sever Bronny
He turned to see a white-robed body—Gavinius—slowly writhing and gasping on the floor amidst a puddle of dragon vomit. And behind him, amidst a sea of bones from the vanquished necromantic army, loomed the gargantuan body of the necromantic dragon.
Augum unsheathed Burden’s Edge and stumbled toward the man, who managed to flip over. The moment he saw Augum he made a pulling motion at him, hissing, “Deducto sap vitae!”
Augum staggered, sure that Gavinius had beaten him, only to realize that nothing had happened. It seemed that Gavinius, having been ejected from the dragon, had also depleted his arcane stamina.
Augum resumed stumbling toward him.
Gavinius raised a hand in defense. “Don’t you dare—” But Augum speared him in the gut with the blade. Gavinius gasped, mouth opening and closing. Augum leaned into the blade and pushed it all the way in to the crossguard. Gavinius fell back against the ground, hand still raised and opening and closing along with his mouth.
For a moment, Augum wavered where he stood, exhausted beyond all measure. He stared at Gavinius’s hand, recalling taking the hand of a fallen soldier in the Library of Antioc. He recalled washing Gavinius’s feet. He recalled a desert of silent statues staring at a sky filled with brilliant stars.
Without fully knowing why, he took the grasping hand and flopped to a seat beside Gavinius.
For a long moment, the pair of gasping opponents said nothing.
“You were a worthy opponent,” Augum wheezed at last.
Gavinius’s disbelieving eyes settled on Augum. “I … was … stronger.”
“You were.”
“Yet … you have … vanquished … me.”
“We are enemies, Your Highness.”
“You … vanquished … me.”
“Good has a secret evil cannot fathom.”
Gavinius managed a small grin. “Smugness?”
Augum surrendered a light chuckle. “Teamwork.”
“Teamwork …” Gavinius snorted weakly. “Is that … Arinthian?”
“Anna Stone.”
“Your … great-grandmother.”
Augum only nodded, continuing to hold his rival’s hand.
“You have … another … strength …” Gavinius murmured.
“What’s that?”
“You are … were … loved. I … I was never … I was never loved. None of us were.”
“I … I am sorry to hear that, Your Highness.” Yet you made decisions that led to this moment. But Augum refrained from playing judge.
A silence passed during which Augum’s breathing slowly regained equilibrium while Gavinius’s steadily weakened.
“How did you take over the dragon?” Augum asked.
“Necromancy … has its own … strengths.”
Augum recalled being challenged by necromancy spells in times past, the many close calls. “It does indeed.”
“But it was … only … the beginning. So much … potential. Now … all … lost. I … I could have been great.”
“Greatness is more than strength, Your Highness.”
Gavinius struggled to focus on Augum. “Free … my … brother, Lord Stone. Free … him.”
“That I cannot promise.”
“Please … make him … see—”
“I don’t understand—”
“—the finality … of … death.” Gavinius’s eyes were unfocused, voice weak. “Say … the … words … say them now.”
“As His Highness wishes.” Augum squeezed Gavinius’s limp hand. “May your soul find the peace together we could not reach.”
Gavinius released a long final breath, almost like a contented sigh. Then his eyes went sightless.
For a time, Augum stared at the body, still holding Gavinius’s still-warm hand, before placing it on the man’s chest along with the other one. He then closed his eyes for him, conscious that yet again he was shepherding someone to the great beyond.
After a tremulous sigh, he gently withdrew Burden’s Edge, wiped it on a nearby dead creature’s fur, and used it to push himself to his feet.
The necromantic dragon lay still amongst a sea of animal bones, its tail flopped over the lightning dragon’s. The pale crimson eye stared right at Augum yet saw nothing.
Augum tried climbing up the lightning dragon but was far too tired, and so he slid against it, mumbling, “Are you all right? Please tell me you are all right …” He could feel the dragon’s flank rising and falling. The heartbeat was steadily weakening.
“Please live … please live …” he found himself repeating. He was parched and ravenous and wounded and aching for his friends and his beloved. And yet all of that was overshadowed in this moment by the knowledge that this ancient and beautiful beast that had helped him lay dying.
He sat with it, feeling its flanks slowing like a certain mule’s once had when he lay with it in a field. “Don’t leave me alone,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me alone …”
He soon closed his eyes and fell asleep, the fight gone from him.
When he opened them again, he saw another body, that of the old knight, Myrymydion, lying gasping for breath in the same manner as the dragon. Around them, the blue lightning chamber had dulled to a dreamy and violet-hued dusk.
Augum crawled to his side. “Please live,” he whispered, taking Myrymydion’s hand. It was cold and clammy, and the man’s eyes were closed. “Please live …”
“Your … shield …” the man wheezed.
Augum, confused, summoned his shield for him. Myrymydion pawed about in search of it. Augum grabbed his hand and guided it to the shield. The man at last opened his black eyes and smiled.
But he’s not a man, Augum realized. He’s a dragon. “What about your child?” Augum pressed.
“Place … it … in … me …”
“I … I don’t understand.”
The man—the dragon—lovingly caressed the words on the shield. Only then did Augum notice that the shield was not complete, that it was missing the dragon figure atop the castle.
Myrymydion’s hand began to glow.
“Don’t—” Augum blurted. “It’ll kill you.”
“I have … already lived. Rest … before … you go.” The glow strengthened and Myrymydion closed his eyes. “I declare thee,” he began in an emboldened voice, “to have attained the rank of dragon.” The glow passed from the man’s hand onto the shield, where it coalesced. Myrymydion’s hand then fell, only to be caught by Augum, his shield disappearing. He hadn’t even bothered to look at what he had come to claim.
“Please,” Augum whispered. “Please …” He held that hand, squeezing it, willing the life to return, yet knew that the man—the dragon—was gone.
At long last, and just as he had done with Gavinius, he placed the hand beside the other on Myrymydion’s chest. Then he curled up beside the body and closed his eyes. Behind him, the dragons lay as still as the bones, as did the body of his nemesis. A deep and dreamless sleep took him.
He awoke an unknown time later and lit his palm, discovering Myrymydion’s body no longer there. The cavern light had dimmed even further to a soft and pale glow.
He glanced at the nest and whispered, “Place it inside you. I think I understand,” and he walked over to the nest, muscles aching, stomach as hollow as a canyon. He retrieved the egg, climbed atop the dragon, and carefully slipped it into the belly wound. He did not know if the egg would survive, but then he did not know if he would either.
He climbed back down and walked away. At the entrance, he turned around to look back at the two dragon bodies, both enmeshed in death and surrounded by a graveyard of bones. And in their midst lay the relatively tiny body of the heir to the Canterran empire. The lightning vibrance of the chamber continued to fade like a dying star. Gavinius and the dragons would soon be entombed in total darkness.
Augum thought of the egg. “I hope you survive,” he whispered. “And I hope we do too.” Then he flashed his shield and looked over the lip.
Perc
hed atop the castle … was a golden dragon.
Candles in the Dark
Augum walked out of the complex, which gave him time to renew enough stamina to Teleport. Then he realized he should check in on the girls. With lit palm, he summoned his golden shield and incanted, “Summano vaultus arcanus.”
The triple-crested vault appeared with a quiet whoosh—and Augum gasped when he saw a notable change upon its facade. All three crests now shone in golden completeness—the three dots indicating secret-keeper status, the motto, the castle, and now, the dragon perching atop that castle. For a precious moment, he stared with incredulity, comprehension dawning as to their awesome accomplishment.
“We did it,” he whispered. “We’ve made dragon status.” And the girls were alive—they all were. Somehow, they’d done it …
He opened his door and a slew of parchment messages fell to the floor. One was marked URGENT with charcoal. He opened that one first.
Augum—watch out! Gavinius has gone in search of you! We think he took on the form of a dragon, but can’t be sure. Also, Tyranecron finished his ritual and is a Path Archon. They are readying to bring Mrs. Stone, Olaf and Jengo to the same necromantic lair so that they can be properly sacrificed. With Haylee now. We are all right, hope you are too. Come to cave soon as you can.
—Bridget
Blood racing, he gathered up the other letters but didn’t bother opening them. Instead he shoved them into a pocket and snapped, “Vaultus null,” disappearing the vault. Then he focused on a safe spot near Haylee’s cave, only to realize it was at the opposite end of the map. Until he gained more experience with the Teleport spell the distance was too great for him to cross without risking spell failure and thus serious injury—or even death. And it wasn’t like Jengo was around to heal him. He needed a midpoint, and so he focused on the pillar in the very middle.
“Impetus peragro,” and he teleported off with a thwomp, reappearing on Pillar Bridget a moment later amidst a torrential downpour that instantly drenched him. It was dark and stormy, the raindrops as big as thimbles, a stark contrast to the dead silence he had been used to underground. Lightning flashed in the clouds nearby, revealing sheets of rain. Thunder rolled over him, shaking his innards.
He ignored the calamitous weather and repeated the spell, reappearing near Haylee’s cave amidst a jungle alive with rain.
“Shyneo,” he incanted in the near total darkness. His palm lit up a small field of dead animal and monster bodies. Miniature rivers of water raced by from the downpour.
He hurried to the cave, only to find it empty. For a moment he stood there, disbelieving that they’d leave without him. Then it occurred to him to check the other messages. He jumped into the cave, which afforded shelter from the rain, and frantically began reading them.
Hello, my love. I got my full shield! Can you believe it? Can’t wait to tell you all about it. Dragon Leera Jones. Has a heck of a ring to it, eh? And I can’t believe we actually turn INTO a dragon. How incredible is that! Anyway, I’m worried. Came back to see if you two had arrived as well as to check on Haylee. She is much better, but no sign of either of you yet, well except for the fact that Bridget’s vault crest has the full dragon, which means she must have succeeded too! Your crest hasn’t changed though. Will wait and hope for best. Thinking of you. Much love from your girl.
Oh, and Bridget just arrived! Proudly showed each other our shields! She’s upset about Olaf still. We’re only waiting for you now. Please be okay.
We heard noises nearby. Going to investigate. Please please please be okay.
—Leera
Augum was about to bolt off in search of them when he laid eyes on the three stones enchanted with Object Alarm. Knowing which two were the girls’, he touched both, then waited to see if they’d show, empty stomach fluttering with jitters as he wondered how much time had passed since the letters had been written. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a thwomp outside the cave.
It was a mud-streaked Leera, stolen Canterran rucksack slung on her back.
The pair ran at each other and embraced tightly.
“Missed you,” she whispered, kissing him. “Gods, look at you. Get in a fight with a cat or something? Did you get our messages?”
“Missed you too,” he croaked between kisses. “And I got them.” But the pain of his wounds forced him to draw her away, though he kept his hands on her waist under her golden breastplate with its giant scar. She noticed this, but he interrupted her thoughts with a question.
“Where are Bridge and Hayles?”
“They’re watching the necromantic lair. A few of the lesser Canterrans got in a fight with a beast nearby, which prompted us to investigate. Snuck up on them and overheard them yapping, that’s how we found out Gavinius had gone after you, and the rest are going to bring Jengo, Olaf and Mrs. Stone to the lair soon. Once we heard your alarm, I ran as fast as I could to a safe distance before teleporting, in case one of them heard me. Do you remember any location between here and the lair that won’t draw attention?”
Augum searched his mind but he had only truly memorized the lip of the pit itself. “Not really.”
“Then we have to walk it. It’s only a couple leagues anyway. Have you eaten or drunk anything?”
“No. Famished and thirsty. How long has it been?”
“We think two days,” she replied as she withdrew four squishy yellow-skinned fruits from the rucksack and a skin of water. “Here, we’ve been snacking on these. And that’s clean stream water.”
The pair lit up their palms with just enough light to see by and began the trek. Fat raindrops assaulted them as they walked, prompting Leera to snag a huge leaf and hold it over their heads. Augum meanwhile devoured the fruits and drank greedily. When she asked how things had gone with him, he told her about Gavinius.
“So the heir to the empire is dead,” she stated. “And the father can’t get into Ley. If they find out who’s responsible …” Her dark eyes softened with worry.
Augum swallowed. “I know.” They’d destroy the castle and kill everyone in Arinthia, maybe Solia too. He gave her a grave look. “Which means none of them can leave this place.”
She adjusted the huge leaf and nodded. “Maybe Sepherin will croak and the war will go away on its own.”
“Only if our luck changes,” he muttered. “Gavinius took over the form of a necromantic dragon using a powerful necromantic spell of some sort.” He winced from the wounds.
She noticed and stopped under a thick tree that afforded better shelter from the rain, then faced him, searching his eyes. “Let me see.”
“We don’t have time—”
“Let me see, damn it.”
Augum grudgingly lifted his robe. He only had on a pair of linen undergarment pants, having used his shirt to wrap Haylee’s wound.
Leera whimpered and slapped a hand to her mouth upon seeing the wound, then looked up at him fearfully. “Is that the only one?” she asked through her hand. Augum turned around and raised his robe higher. Leera gasped.
Augum felt woozy but was determined to carry on. “It’ll be fine—”
“Shut up. Sit down. Now.”
“Lee—”
She grabbed him by the arm and gave it a firm shake. “I said sit. Down. Keep your palm lit. And take off your robe.”
He sat down by the tree and grudgingly removed it, feeling bony and naked and cold and stinky like a hog. Leera, meanwhile, summoned the vault while grumbling about boys and their ways. She withdrew a fistful of parchments, examined them, and returned some. “These will do.” She withdrew a piece of charcoal from a pocket and wrote a quick note to Bridget, using a stick to stuff the note all the way down to her side, mumbling something about this being the silliest way to communicate ever. Then she had Augum hold the other parchments while she picked up his robe.
“What are you doing?” he asked, feeling dizzy. The wounds were starting to burn.
“You need Jengo,” she said, testing the stren
gth of his robe sleeves. “Those wounds are going to fester in this jungle. Heck, we’re all scratched up, but have you actually looked at that stomach wound? And no, don’t do it now.”
“Not going to,” he muttered, realizing he had been deluding himself earlier. Perhaps he knew they were bad and just hadn’t wanted to face it as he could do little about them.
“You must have received those injuries in dragon form because your robe doesn’t show the damage.” Leera stiffened and flexed. “Virtus vis viray,” and easily tore both arms off his robe as well as a long and thin strip from the bottom hem. Then she tore the sleeves lengthwise once more, creating a total of five strips. “Virtus null,” she said, nullifying the Strength spell. She kneeled before him. “Now hold still,” and began binding his wounds, using parchment as padding. “We need to get you help.”
“Okay.”
“I’m serious here.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t you okay me—”
“Well, what do you want me to say.” He telekinetically lashed out at a foot-long scorpion that had been creeping up on her and flung it deep into the bushes.
She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she finished binding his wounds and sighed. “I’m sorry. You just … you have a tendency to understate how serious things can be.”
He resisted saying okay one more time, recognizing that they were under a lot of stress. Instead, he placed a hand at the nape of her neck and rubbed the back of her head tenderly, croaking, “You look beautiful even when you’re all muddy.”
She scoffed. “I’ve never felt uglier.” Then she sighed. “I feel bad. You fought Gavinius, who controlled a six-barn dragon—and I can’t even imagine how harrowing that must have been—meanwhile I got to sleep the whole time like a princess. I mean, yeah, I was challenged with a dream trial and trained my butt off during that sleep, but still.” She bit her lip. “Although I’ve never felt so rested. Like I had the best sleep of my life.”