Jundag

by Chris A. Jackson

  Propelled by momentum, he plunged onto the open balcony, crushing stonework and enemies alike as he tumbled across the broad platform. He thrashed madly, tearing at the net to free himself.

  Pain lanced his flank, and Phlegothax craned his neck to see a dark-armored warrior plunge a smoldering black sword into his side. The blade stabbed again and again, piercing the flint-hard scales as if they were parchment.

  Phlegothax roared in agony and rage, and lunged forward to snap the man up in his jaws, but the webs held him tight. But a dragon’s mind is as much a weapon as fire, teeth and claws, and Phlegothax thought quickly. As the armored figure raised his foul blade to strike again, the dragon shifted his vast bulk and rolled over him. The heavy armor resisted the crushing weight for a brief moment, then crumpled like the carapace of a cockroach underfoot. The warrior's screams died in a gush of crimson blood.

  With a thrash of his tail, Phlegothax swept away the few foes who had not yet fled, then righted himself. Bit by bit, he tore at the webs around his head and neck until he could open his jaws, then snapped at the strands binding his wings. In moments he was free, and he looked around, assessing the situation.

  He was injured, but not gravely; his wings were intact, and he was not greatly weakened by his wounds. The drakoll fought viciously, though nearly a third of their number had perished. But Pytt was their home plane; if they died here, Draco would instantly reforge their spirits into physical bodies once again. Phlegothax wasn’t sure what his own fate might be, and for the first time in his long life, he wondered if he might be judged worthy by the god of dragons.

  Unfortunately, there seemed no end to their foes, and the fortress itself was little damaged. His companions had obviously failed to disrupt the flow of Void essence; the torrent continued to flow, continued to destroy his world. He breathed a heavy sigh of annoyance. It was up to him.

  Phlegothax clamped his talons onto a huge piece of broken pillar and launched himself into the air. Flapping his great wings laboriously, he circled the spires, climbing ever closer to The Void. The air roared in and out of his lungs as he built up speed.

  When he could go no faster, he banked and released his heavy load, craning his neck to watch it crash into the black stone of the spire. The spire cracked, and shards of stone rained down onto the fortress. Some of the runes etched onto the stone sparked and flashed, then faded as their magic was disrupted, but thousands remained, and still the spire stood.

  His furious roar shook the air as he banked hard and flew toward the cracked spire. As he soared past, he lashed the fracture with his heavy tail, and another chunk of stone fell. Black lightning crackled overhead, a flash of blinding darkness.

  Phlegothax screamed as pain lanced through his wing. A glance confirmed that he had been struck by the discharge of Void essence. His wing was a withered black husk; he would never fly again.

  He roared in anguish as he fell into the core of the fortress. Lashing out with his claws and tail, he tried desperately to seize hold of something—anything!—but the stone was too smooth and the etched runes too shallow. Refusing to give up, he fought to keep from falling into the swirling pit of blackness that awaited him below.

  The enraged roar swelled until Yenjil’s ears rang. Then, amid a rain of falling stone, a massive shape—crimson scales tinted garish green in the runes' glow—flashed past...and stopped. Phlegothax clung to the balcony, its saber-like talons scratching sparks as they skittered across the stone. When Yenjil looked the dragon in the eye he saw rage and frustration, but neither fear nor defeat. Then, the stone fractured and peeled away, and with a roar that shivered the air, the dragon fell. The roar faded.

  Before Yenjil could draw a breath, a spider web of fissures spread across the balcony. Calmarel, her hand still outstretched toward Avari, stared in shock, and panic flashed across her face as the stone shifted beneath her feet. Off balance, she waved her free arm wildly while clutching her child closer, but she was already falling.

  "No!" Avari cried as she lunged, reaching out toward Calmarel in desperation.

  Yenjil leapt forward to grab her, but a bolt of silver shot past him. Gaulengil impaled Calmarel just below her sternum, and hung in the air, preventing her fall. Avari stood wide-eyed, her empty hands outstretched toward Calmarel, her gaze fixed on the enchanted weapon. Slowly, reluctantly, she wrapped her fingers firmly wrapped around the sword’s hilt. Calmarel sagged on the blade, staring in horror at the razor-edged steel as it absorbed the blood that seeped through her robes. Yenjil saw her face twist into an expression of pure hatred as she looked at Avari.

  “Your...word!” she gasped.

  Avari shook her head slowly and held out her free hand out to Calmarel. “I...I didn’t—"

  “Kill me," Calmarel continued with great effort, “and you kill Jundag’s child.” She held the crying baby out from her side, but kept her eyes on Avari’s.

  “Avari didn’t do it, Calmarel,” Yenjil called as he scrambled across the splintered stone toward them. He glimpsed the rest of their companions picking themselves up off of the ground. Shay and Brok knelt by Voncellia, who seemed to have been injured by the dragon’s violent passage, while Feldspar edged toward the shattered parapet. “We can heal you!” But the woman seemed not to hear him, so focused was she on Avari.

  "Give your baby a chance, Calmarel," Avari begged as she stretched her hand farther, grasping for the swaddled child. “For Jundag! He loves her!”

  "Jundag...loved me...more!" Calmarel sneered before spitting bloody phlegm onto Avari's outstretched palm. Then, with a cruel smile, she purposefully released her hold on the bundle in her arm, letting the soft fabric slip through her fingers. The baby fell.

  "NOOOO!!" Avari howled. She raised Gaulengil, and Calmarel slid down the blade, jerking to a stop on the hilt. Avari snatched the woman’s throat with her free hand, then ripped Gaulengil free, cleaving the body and tossing it from her with disgust. Movement caught Yenjil’s eye; a grey-cloaked figure wavered on the edge of the balcony...and fell.

  "Feldspar!" Voncellia screamed as she scrambled away from Shay and Brok toward the crumbling precipice. Hufferrrerrr grasped her shoulders and pulled her back, careful not to disturb the cracked stonework.

  Not a word was spoken as the companions stared into the core. Yenjil’s heart ached with the loss: Phlegothax, Feldspar, Jundag...the baby. He looked at Avari and was unnerved by the empty expression on her face; even after her darkest dreams, she had not looked so distraught. He opened his mouth to speak and hesitated, unsure what to say.

  Hufferrrerrr growled, breaking the pensive silence, and started to pace along the ledge. "Well," the leotaur said, "we are all quite in the being of knee deepness in the excrement of dragons now, are we not?"

  Yenjil looked into the hazy depths of the core. Feldspar had carried the Starstone, their only way home. He saw Lynthalsea sag into Brok’s embrace, while Voncellia hung her head. Avari merely stared at the sword in her hand with an expression of anguished betrayal. Both Shay and Hufferrrerrr started to move toward Avari, then stopped and looked at him. Yenjil nodded and approached, startling her with a gentle touch on her arm.

  “It was not your fault, Avari,” he said softly.

  “I...gave my word,” she whispered.

  “And you kept it,” he insisted as he turned her face so she looked him in the eye. “Gaulengil acted on its own; there was nothing you could have done. And considering that Calmarel was already falling, perhaps it was the only thing to do. She had the chance to save both her baby’s life and her own, and she chose not to.

  What matters now,” he continued, “is that, without the Starstone, we're all about to die. But before we do, I have to tell you something!"

  "You love me," she said, the corners of her mouth quirking upward just a trifle.

  "Yes, but that's not it." He held her face between his hands and looked deep into her eyes, those beautiful green eyes that he had missed so much. "I want to say that...I'm an idiot!"
/>   She coughed out a reluctant laugh.

  "I don't care if you're a horse-farmer, a warrior or a street trollop. I haven't the right to dictate how you live your life. I know I was to blame for you leaving, but I missed you more every day you were gone."

  Briefly her eyes went hard and she stiffened, and Yenjil felt a stab of remorse; was his apology too late? But Avari gave her head an impatient little shake and smiled, then pulled him roughly to her and kissed him hard. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back, soundly and passionately. For the first time in nearly a year, his heart was light. If they were to die, so be it, but right now there was no place he would rather be.

  Jundag knew it would happen eventually, but it took far less time than he had hoped. Above the hammering he heard a rattle, and turned his head to see a shower of small stones falling from the wall beside the open doors. More hammering, and a tiny hole opened in the wall. It would not be long now.

  He eased himself to the floor next to the cloak upon which the cornerstones were arrayed. He smudged the pentagram Shay had carefully drawn, but it did not matter; his foes had long ago given up their attempts to pass through the doors, and would not know that the wards had been voided.

  Jundag glanced down at the ivory feather-blossom medallion that hung around his neck. He removed the medallion and kissed it tenderly, then placed it in the center of the cornerstones. Ever so carefully, he gathered the four corners of Shay's cloak and twisted them into an easily gripped wad of cloth. Glancing up, he saw that the hole was considerably larger now, nearly wide enough to allow a slim person to squeeze through.

  "It is time," he decided. He looked at the gems and marveled at the thought that he, who so feared and mistrusted magic during his life, now depended on it for his death. “But now, at least, my destiny is in my own hands.

  "Be well, my daughter," he prayed as a larger piece of stone fell away from the hole in the wall. “Grow strong and live long.”

  A slave was shoved through the hole. The poor creature cringed but did not burn away; it darted off into the depths of the temple amid shouts from the crowd gathered outside. Jundag spied Druellae and Grimlord Gorgoneye gazing at him in triumph. He smiled back, and was pleased to see their exultant expressions falter. But their faces were not the vision he wanted to carry to the afterlife. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, then whispered his last words as he lifted the corners of the cloak high.

  “I love you, Avari...my friend."

  "Holy Mother of Beauty!"

  Brok's cry drew their attention, and Avari looked up. A huge, ugly bird flapped awkwardly to the parapet and dropped a dark bundle onto the stone, then landed nearby. An indignant squall rose from the bundle, and Avari’s heart leapt. She disentangled herself from Yen’s embrace and raced to it.

  "Feldspar!" Voncellia cried as she rushed toward the bird, which flailed its great white wings and squawked irritably, nearly pecking her eyes out with its long beak. Then the animal collapsed inward, the wings shortening and losing their feathers, the beak curving and melting into Feldspar’s long, thin nose. The plumage smoothed into robes, and the scaly yellow feet fused to form his boots. The elderly wizard nearly collapsed, but Brok and Hufferrrerrr caught his arms and held him upright.

  Avari stooped and snatched up the bundle, then gently folded back the blanket. Abruptly, the baby stopped crying. Sky-blue eyes fringed in dark, wet lashes stared up at her, melting her heart. The babe’s little pink lips pursed in what Avari thought was a smile, but was apparently gas, considering the burp that rocked the tiny body. But her tryst with the little one didn’t last long.

  "What are you all waiting for?" Feldspar bellowed as he dug in his pocket, then held up the Starstone. “Get over here and hang on! Can’t you feel the energy? The cornerstones!”

  Yen grabbed Avari’s arm with one hand and Feldspar’s sleeve with the other, while the rest held on to whatever they could reach. Feldspar spat out the word of activation, and before Avari could even catch her breath, the dark citadel vanished in an explosion of light and sound.

  CHAPTER 37

  Fire!” DoHeney bellowed. He squinted to see the flight of arrows arch overhead, desperately praying that at least some would find their target. But the flying beast screeched and loosed the boulder it clutched in its talons. Free of the heavy weight, it banked and pumped its wings to soar above the deadly onslaught.

  "Damn it all ta the Nine Hells!" he swore savagely. Several of the creatures had been downed during their initial attack, but they had quickly learned to avoid the dwarven missiles by flying high and changing course erratically. Now they attacked from high above, dropping boulders that smashed sharply against the deck of DoHeney's Dream. The dwarves and humans dodged and ducked, but the debris that accumulated on the deck made footing treacherous, and well-placed strikes chipped and cracked the stone of the ship’s hull. The rigging was ravaged, and the ship moved sluggishly.

  “Bring some o' that rubble over here!” called UrMae without looking up from where she crouched over a wide crack through which water poured. Clerics, wizards and troops alike scurried about the deck, gathering pieces of stone and dumping them next to the dwarven priestess. UrMae’s lips moved as she appealed to the Earth Mother, and her hands skillfully molded the bits of stone into the hull to stem the flood. Slowly, the flow became a trickle, then ceased entirely. UrMae sat back on her haunches and blew stray hairs from her eyes.

  “Good work, lads and lasses!” she encouraged. “Let’s keep that water where it belongs—outside the boat. No stinkin’ cave bats are gonna git the better o’ my shipbuildin’!”

  Her light words elicited a cheer, but DoHeney watched her wince as she levered herself to her feet. Although the other priests and priestesses assisted as they could, none had skills equal to those of the high priestess, and she was running herself ragged to keep up with the repairs. This did not bode well; if UrMae’s legendary vigor was flagging, if she could no longer repair the ship, they were doomed.

  “Ware above!” cried someone, and DoHeney craned his neck back. From high overhead, near the ceiling of the cavern, sparks cascaded and light flashed. He struggled to discern what was happening, then exhaled sharply.

  “By the Delver’s dirty toenails, git this ship movin’!” he yelled.

  Another flash of light, then a tremendous crack that was not thunder, but a portent of doom. A piece of the bug-glittered ceiling fell. DoHeney’s eyes widened and his heart sank as he watched the huge stalactite plunge toward the ship. He heard the wizards and clerics calling out spells and invocations, trying to move the ship by any means possible, but it was too late. The great cone of rock would hit them dead in the center of the middle hull, and he did not know how the battered ship would survive the impact. As everyone scattered to the outer hulls, he noticed a red-clad figure moving against the fleeing tide.

  "Prael!" DoHeney yelled above the din. "What're ye doin'?"

  The mage paid him no attention as he positioned himself directly beneath the plummeting rock. Raising his arms, he began chanting and weaving intricate designs in the air with his fingers. His tattered robes, shredded by attacks that had sliced through the cloth but passed harmlessly through his cursed flesh, fluttered in the wind the other wizards conjured to fill the torn sails.

  DoHeney watched helplessly, whispering a prayer and despairing of his failed leadership, when he spied a shimmer above Prael’s outstretched hands. The wizard never looked away as the rock fell right at him. Then, with a crack like a thunderclap, the stalactite hit the protective shield that Prael had erected above the ship. DoHeney felt a sharp sting in his cheek as shards of stone flew in every direction. But the bulk of the stalactite slid along the angled shield and into the water. The ship rocked with the wake of its passing, but the attack had failed; there was no damage. Cheers rang out, and crowds rushed to aid Prael, who sagged against the center mast, his features creased with exhaustion.

  DoHeney grinned and shook his head in wonder. "I
'll be a pointy-eared sonofa―" A deep rumble rolled across the water, interrupting his thoughts. The entire cavern shook, the mirror-smooth water rippling with a thousand wavelets.

  "What the―"

  Concentric waves ripped across the surface of the water, quickly building until the ship was buffeted by great frothy breakers. DoHeney braced himself against the hull and looked in the direction from which the waves derived: toward the city of the children of the Dark Gods.

  A sudden light flashed through the windows that honeycombed the lower half of the great structure, giving the impression of an hourglass full of glowing sand when time has run out. The light was immediately followed by fire and molten rock, as if hell itself burst forth. Sharp cracks rent the air as the great stone structure fractured, whole sections melting and sagging into slag.

  As DoHeney watched, the lower half of the city fell in upon itself, broke free from the upper half of the huge column and collapsed into the lake, raising an enormous cloud of steam.

  Then he saw the wave.

  It emerged from the steam like an impossibly mobile hill, already thirty feet tall and growing. Thundering toward DoHeney's Dream, it engulfed the smaller enemy vessels, leaving only debris in its wake. DoHeney glanced up at the tattered sails of the dwarven ship; there was no way they could outrun this behemoth.

  "Turn toward the wave!" DoHeney bellowed. Cries of alarm came from the dwarves at this seemingly counterintuitive command, but several of the wizards and priests had been to sea, and they quickly complied. Ponderously, the ship turned until the three hulls faced directly into the wave. DoHeney had just enough time to yell “Hang on!” before it was upon them.

  With a roar like an enormous waterfall, the wave lifted the bows up and up and up, while her crew clung for dear life. DoHeney looked back at the steeply angled deck and the yawning space behind them, and immediately regretted it. Turning his gaze forward again, he spied the spume-spattered wave crest, then lost it as the ship reached the peak. For an unsettling moment, DoHeney's Dream teetered atop the prominence before reversing its angle and plunging down the backside of the wave. Water cascaded over the bows, threatening to wash all overboard. DoHeney prayed as he had never prayed before, and from behind him, he thought he heard similar supplications in languages both dwarven and human. Just before he thought his lungs might burst from holding his breath, or his fingers break from clenching the hull side, the ship leveled out, and the roar of the wave diminished behind them.