by M. L. Forman
“We have all the time in the world here,” Zain said. “Eventually, you will wither and die of old age, and I will still be as you see me.” Zain circled Alex, his footprints lined with fire. “I suppose I could simply wait and then take the Axe from your cold corpse, but I’ve never had much use for patience.”
Alex moved in a circle as well, always keeping his eyes on Zain.
“I fear I cannot help you,” Whalen murmured to Alex. “Without my power . . . And if I stay here, I know you will try to protect me and that will distract you from this battle that you must not lose.”
“Whalen—” Alex began, but then he felt a gust of wind behind him and knew that Whalen had vanished, moving away to a safer place.
“Do you know how long I have worked and waited for this moment?” Zain said.
“You’ll have to wait even longer,” Alex said. He worked a spell and a ball of ice flew from his fingers, heading straight for Zain’s chest.
Zain’s body suddenly became transparent, like he was a ghost, and the ice flew through Zain’s body, crashing against the stone wall and shattering on impact.
Zain laughed. “As I said: pitiful.” He returned to his more solid form and summoned a cloud of green gas that enveloped Alex. “And useless.”
Alex coughed and gasped as the toxic gas filled his mouth and lungs. His eyes burned. He summoned a rain shower and the gas evaporated with a hiss as the water washed it away.
“Better,” Zain said. “What else can you do, I wonder?”
Alex’s mind raced. Zain was dead, and any weapon or spell he crafted to attack his body wouldn’t work; the ice ball had proven that.
Alex changed tactics. He drew on his magic and created an illusion of himself, multiplying copies of himself until there were a dozen identical versions of Alex holding a dozen identical versions of the Axe. The illusions raced around Zain in a circle, trying to disorient the wizard. When they stopped, Alex had his back to the stone wall. He held his breath, hoping that his trick would work.
Zain shook his head. “As if I could be fooled by something so primitive as an illusion spell. The dead can see more clearly than the living. I know exactly which one is the real you.” His eyes suddenly glowed red and he swung his arm in an overhand throw as if releasing a dagger. But instead of a steel blade, he threw a shaft of red light, sharpened to a point.
It pierced Alex’s shoulder, pinning him to the wall. Alex slumped against the shaft of light; it was the only thing holding him upright. The illusions around him vanished as if they had never existed.
Zain dusted his hands together as if wiping away a layer of dirt. “There is nothing you can do to stop me, so why don’t you just give me the Axe and all of this can be over. You can die and be with your friend Whalen. And I can return to claim the power that is rightfully mine.”
Alex struggled to pull the shaft of light out of his shoulder, but it was wedged tightly into the wall. He couldn’t pull it loose.
Zain stood in front of Alex and smiled. “Gaylan began as my apprentice two thousand years ago. You’ve seen his power. You know what he can do. I am far older and so much more powerful. You will fail, and I will win. Accept it.”
Alex released his grip on the shaft of red light and pulled the Axe from his belt in nearly the same motion. He held it across his chest, blade glowing with a fierce, inner light. Zain was too close for Alex to manage a proper swing, but all Alex needed to do was get the edge of the weapon as close to Zain as possible.
Before Alex could move, Zain lunged forward and wrapped his hands around Alex’s wrists.
Alex struggled to maintain control of the Axe, but Zain had better footing, better positioning, and better leverage. Alex was still pinned to the wall. There was nowhere he could go.
Slowly, Zain pushed forward, twisting Alex’s wrists until he feared they might break.
Sweat beaded on Alex’s forehead. He could feel himself losing ground. The pain in his side was overwhelming, and with one arm pinned to the wall, he was not strong enough. He gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts.
Zain bared his teeth in a grimace and leaned more of his weight forward. He pushed Alex’s arms up as far as they would go until the Axe was past Alex’s chest and head.
Slowly, so slowly, Zain forced the blade of the Axe of Sundering toward the edge of the wall.
Alex gathered all his strength and roared with one last effort to stop Zain.
But it wasn’t enough.
Zain drove the Axe of Sundering into the stones at the top of the wall.
A tremor ran down the shaft of the axe. The weapon quivered in Alex’s hands, and then a blast of white light exploded from the Axe. The earth rumbled beneath Alex. Zain took a step back, triumph in his eyes.
The shaft of red light vanished, and Alex slumped to the ground. He twisted on his knees and saw a crack splitting the wall from top to bottom where the Axe blade touched the wall.
“No,” Alex whispered through numb lips. He looked around, hoping to see Whalen, hoping there was something he could do to stop what was happening.
The crack widened and spread as the stones surrounding it began to crumble to dust.
Zain began to laugh madly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw a dark cloud began to gather. He thought Zain had summoned another storm, but as it drew closer, he saw that the darkness was filled with spirits of the dead. They were pushing forward, racing forward, each one eager to be the first one through the crack in the wall.
“No,” Alex shouted, but his voice was lost in the roar of the oncoming wave of the dead. “Stop!”
If the spirits heard him, they ignored him.
Zain caught Alex’s eye, inclined his head in a nod, and then he stepped through the crack in the wall and was gone.
Alex groaned. How could he have failed so terribly? He had been rash and foolish and angry, and now the wall was broken, Zain was free, and the Brotherhood would soon be in complete control of the known lands. This was not what he had intended, not what he had promised to do, but everything had happened so fast and he had been all alone. On his other adventures, he’d often had his friends with him to help him fight the battles or solve the problems. But this time the burden sat squarely on his shoulders.
He rubbed the sweat from his eyes with his good arm. The one that had been pierced by the shaft of red light hung limp by his side. He coughed, the motion tugging at his broken ribs, and blood filled his mouth. He spat it out and shook his head.
He had failed. There would be no calling back the spirits of the dead. There was no way to mend the wall. He had unleashed a terrible fate into the world of the living.
He was not fit to be a warrior or a wizard, and worst of all, he didn’t feel fit to claim the title of dragon lord. All his training and experience and knowledge had not helped him in the moment when it mattered the most. A single decision—to try to use the Axe of Sundering, even knowing the danger it carried—and all the good he had done had been turned to evil.
“I cannot make this right,” he muttered. “I don’t know how.”
“I have never known you to be a liar, Alex. Not even to yourself,” a deep voice said nearby.
Alex lifted his head and his mouth dropped open in surprise. Salinor stood on the other side of the wall, his true-silver scales shining against the softer gray landscape behind him. He drew himself up to his full height, towering over Alex, who was still crouched by the wall, and snapped open his wings with a sound like a thunderclap.
“Salinor?” Alex asked weakly. “How did you get here? You were hidden away on the Isle of Bones.”
“A dragon may go wherever he is needed, and at this time, I am needed here.” He folded his great wings back against his powerful body. He snaked his head down to Alex’s eye level. “I am here to help you.”
“No one can help me,” Alex muttered. “I have failed you. I have failed Whalen. I have failed myself. I destroyed the wall!” He pointed at the cracked stones around his feet. “I
let Zain back into the world.”
“You know I have no love for Zain or Gaylan or the Brotherhood, but Zain did say one thing that was true.”
“That he will reclaim his power and rule the known lands?” Alex asked bitterly.
“No. That he will never do. Not as long as there is a true-silver dragon drawing breath. Never, so long as the guardians remain.”
“What then? What did he say that was true?”
“That you can take the measure of a man from his failures better than from his successes.”
Alex gestured to the empty shadowlands around him. “Then take my measure, Salinor, because I find I have come up short.”
Salinor shook his head. “Everyone fails at some point. It is what you do next that matters.”
Alex rubbed his hand through his hair. “There is nothing I can do.”
Salinor remained silent. The moment stretched out between them. Then he said, with a kind curiosity, “Do you truly believe that?”
Alex bowed his head. He thought back over his adventures. He had defeated trolls, bandits, and goblins. He had befriended elves, dwarfs, and oracles. He had helped his friends with their problems, sometimes even saving their lives. Even when a situation had seemed hopeless, he had always found a solution. He had been in dark places before and had always managed to find his way to the light.
“Is this really so different?” Salinor asked as if reading Alex’s thoughts. “Your adventures—your choices—have led you to become a man of honor. What would an honorable man do now?”
“He would not give up,” Alex said quietly. “No matter what.”
Salinor nodded solemnly. “Will you give up? Now—when the need is so great?”
Alex reached out to grasp the stone wall. He used it for support as he pulled himself to his feet. He was broken and bloody, but he lifted his eyes to meet Salinor’s piercing gaze. “No. I will never give up.”
Salinor threw back his head and roared in triumph. The silver sheen to his scales grew brighter and brighter until Alex had to shield his eyes from the glare.
“Alexander Taylor,” Salinor said, his voice deep and his tone formal, “you have proven yourself more than a man. More than a wizard, even more than a dragon lord. You are a true-silver dragon and now it is time for you to accept your destiny.”
Alex swayed on his feet, but he forced himself to remain upright. “What must I do?”
“True-silver dragons are guardians—of people, places, ideals. We guard the world and protect it from evil in whatever form it takes.”
“And I am to be one of these guardians? How?”
“You always had the potential to be a guardian, but it was your choices, your successes and your failures, that brought you to this point. At this moment, you are a nameless dragon. If you are willing to take your true dragon name and accept your role as a guardian, you can mend the wall and set things right.”
“I can fix my mistake?” Alex asked, hope filling his heart.
Salinor nodded. “It will not be easy. But yes, it can be done.”
“Then I accept,” Alex said. “Tell me my dragon name, and I will do whatever I must to stop Zain, Gaylan, and the Brotherhood.”
“I cannot tell you your dragon name,” Salinor said. “You must find it within yourself. It is powerful and personal. When you find it, you must keep it a secret because those who know your true dragon name would then have some power over you.”
“I understand,” Alex said. He remembered when Salinor had entrusted him with his true name and the feeling of power that had swept through him. “How will I know when I have found my true name?”
“You will know,” Salinor said.
Alex nodded and closed his eyes. He reached deep into himself, looking for the path that would lead him to his true dragon name.
Alex stood on a path that led through a dark wood. He knew he hadn’t really gone anywhere, that his body was still standing by the wall between life and death, and that what he was seeing was only an illusion, a kind of vision that would help him find what he needed.
Quickly, now, Salinor’s voice said in his head. Stay true.
Alex stepped forward and the trees around him seemed to draw closer, forcing him to stay in the center of the path and narrowing his choices. He walked faster until he was almost running. The path rolled out in front of him, leading him deeper and deeper into the forest. The tall trunks that lined the path rose up and over his head, the branches tangling together and turning it into a tunnel. Still Alex pressed on. He could sense the urgency. He needed to find the name.
He had no other choice but to go forward. He followed the tunnel as it twisted and turned until it eventually led him to a small clearing. A bonfire with true-silver flames burned in the center of the clearing.
Alex stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the fire. He had reached the deepest part of himself, a secret and private place. He looked around. The tunnel had closed behind him. He was alone in the clearing. A great peace settled over him. He couldn’t feel his wounds any more. He had shed his doubts and fears and all that was left was a calm confidence that he was doing the right thing.
“I am Alexander Taylor,” he said to the flames.
They flared at the sound of his voice.
“I am a true-silver dragon, and I have come to accept my destiny as a guardian of the good.”
The flames sparked and twisted.
“I have come to claim my true name.”
The silver flames spread out in thin tendrils along the ground, moving and twisting as though drawn by an invisible hand. They blazed with a white-hot light and then faded in a flash until only a line of coals remained of the bonfire. The glowing lines spelled out a name on the ground.
Alex took a step back.
“Invictus,” he whispered.
As soon as the name passed his lips, he felt power like he had never known before surge through him. It mended his broken ribs and healed his wounds. It filled him with a light so tangible he wondered why it wasn’t seeping through his skin. His true name echoed inside of him, melding into his bones and muscles. He was whole.
Without a thought, he transformed into his truest self: a giant, true-silver dragon. His claws gouged great trenches into the ground beneath him. His tail broke through the tunnel behind him. His wings snapped open and he launched himself into the air. His roar shattered the sky.
Alex opened his eyes, surprised to see he was eye-to-eye with Salinor. He thought his transformation had been part of the vision quest, but now he saw he had changed in reality as well. In his true-silver dragon form, he was nearly as tall and as large as Salinor, the most ancient of all dragons.
Salinor bowed his head. Welcome, brother, he said in Alex’s mind.
Salinor , Alex replied. I would have lost myself today if you had not shown me the truth. Long ago, you trusted me enough to share your name with me. I wish to do the same.
It is not necessary—
It is , Alex said. My name is Invictus.
Salinor bowed his head again. I am honored to meet you, Invictus, darloch est messer. He spread his wings and his shadow fell over Alex. I name you guardian of the wall between the living and the dead.
Alex’s breath left him in a rush. You want me to guard the wall? Even after I cracked it?
It is because you cracked it that you are the only one who can restore it to wholeness. The power is within you. As guardian, you need only reach out and make whole what was broken.
Alex looked down at the crumbling section of the wall. It seemed such a small crack, but it had resulted in great damage. If he could fix it, he would. He had to.
But first , Salinor said, you must return the evil that has escaped to the shadowlands, where it belongs.
How?
Defeat Gaylan. Defeat Zain. Destroy the Brotherhood. Then you will be able to mend the wall.
Alex nodded. I will not fail you, my brother.
Alex gathered all his strength and his dragon magi
c and then sprang into the air, his wings spread wide. He soared over the wall and saw a black streak of ash marking the gray lands below him. Zain had left devastation in his wake, which made it easy for Alex to follow the path toward a distant hilltop, where a speck of light was twinkling like a fallen star.
As Alex drew closer, he saw that the light was actually coming through the open shutters leading into Gaylan’s headquarters. He remembered the two large windows on either side of the room and that the one connected to the gray lands was only one-way. The glass separating the portal had been shattered, blown through by Zain as he crossed over. As Alex flew through the same portal, he transformed from his dragon form back into a man. He landed hard and rolled to his feet, one hand on the axe at his belt, the other stretched out in front of him, a defensive spell tingling in his fingertips.
The spell remained uncast.
The room appeared empty, although Alex knew it was not. Gaylan and Zain had to be hiding somewhere. Shards of glass from the broken portal lay scatted across the floor of the main room. Alex took a step forward, careful not to step on any of the glass. He didn’t want the sound of a crack to alert his enemies of his arrival. A door near the back of the room was ajar, and Alex made his way toward it.
He positioned himself near the entrance, but didn’t enter.
“My lord,” Alex heard Gaylan say. “I am at your service.”
“You have done well,” Zain said. “The Brotherhood has flourished under your leadership and care.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Gaylan said. “I am honored by your trust in me.”
Alex tightened his grip on the axe. Anger rose up in his chest. Gaylan had killed Whalen. Zain had plans to destroy the world. The Brotherhood had brought nothing but misery and evil to the known lands. Every bit of power that Alex possessed screamed at him to rush into the room and put an end to this once and for all. But he waited. He knew from experience that it wasn’t always wise to be led by his anger. It appeared he still had the element of surprise on his side. That was an advantage worth holding on to.
“There is still one more service you can render for me,” Zain said. His voice sounded strange to Alex’s ear. It was thin and whispery, as though Zain was merely a shadow of his former self.
