Malik the Bard: Legend of the Crystal Dragon

by Scott Moore

  Malik looked for Mollie and Embre. Embre had stepped away from her brother Zimbre. Zimbre was the only member of the group who looked relaxed and calm. Maybe he was too stupid to know what was coming next, Malik thought. Even Sweet Tongue had the presence to know that whatever was coming was going to be a nightmare.

  “We have to get the others,” Malik replied to Khris.

  Khris was already stepping forward to gather Embre. Malik looked around again trying to find Mollie. Moments before Mollie had been right beside him, staring at Sweet Tongue and the others.

  Malik scanned the group twice before he saw Mollie crouched down beside Egg’s cage. She was working at the lock, but not having much luck in freeing the creature. Malik swallowed his fear, blocked out the pain in his body, and wedged his way around the mercenaries. None of them commented on his movements. They probably thought he had nowhere to run, or maybe at this point they knew that running was futile anyhow. How many had known they faced the potential threat of a dragon? How much had Sweet Tongue told any one of them? From the looks on their faces, Malik would have ventured to guess it was very little.

  More rocks showered down from the eaves of the hallway. None of them were as big as the one that had broken the mercenary’s back, but some of them were formidable enough to cause cuts and bruises. Malik was only hit with a few palm sized rocks, nothing but a little added pain to an already screaming body. Malik reached down and grabbed one of the rocks into his hand. When he reached Mollie, he bent down beside her with an involuntary moan.

  Mollie flinched a little, ready for the blade or hand of one of the mercenaries. She looked relieved when she saw it was Malik crouched down beside her.

  “We have to free Egg,” she said.

  Malik flicked the rock to his fingertips and handed it to Mollie. “Best I could find to help under the circumstances,” Malik said.

  Mollie smiled. It was a simple rock, but the smile it created was enough to make it mean so much more. Mollie took the rock from his hand and used it to beat at the lock holding the door to Egg’s cage shut. It was loud, but over the shaking of the hallway there was no way anyone could tell the difference. It took her six swings before the wood splintered. Three more strikes and there was a gap large enough for her to pry apart the bars. With the help of Egg, from the inside, they broke enough of the cage for the little monster to escape.

  “Where do you think you are going?” One of the mercenaries had stumbled back from the grate and now saw a victim they were less afraid of than the monster that was coming for them.

  Unfortunately for the mercenary, Egg was out of the cage now, and he was monster enough for one man. Egg jumped up smashing his head into the head of the mercenary. The mercenary stumbled back only a few paces before Egg hit him again in the head. The second hit was enough for the mercenary’s eyes to glaze over and his body to fall to the ground. He was not deadMollie would have frowned upon thatbut he was out of play.

  None of the others looked back. Malik doubted that any of the others cared anymore. They were only a short time away from dying. One woman broke off from the crowd. She dropped her sword and frantically ran back the way they had come. Sweet Tongue’s eyes only wavered for a minute to her.

  “Let her go,” he said, deterring anyone to break away and chase after her. “The prize on the other side of this door is worth more than anything else you will ever do with your life. Remember, not only will it make you a rich man; you will also be a part of the Tempre. It is everything you could possible dream of,” Sweet Tongue said.

  Some of the faces changed to determination, but Malik figured more stayed put because they were rooted by fear of moving.

  Mollie put a hand on his shoulder, “We can go this way,” she said, pointing in the direction opposite of the way they had come.

  “We don’t know what that path holds,” Malik answered.

  Mollie looked down the path and then back toward the grated door. More rocks fell from high above and through the slits in the bars Malik saw the first sign of the noisemaker. Its foot came crashing to the floor, ruining the smooth surface that had been laboriously smoothed by the makers of the cave.

  Malik decided he did not care what was down the other path. Whatever was there, was nothing compared to what was about to rip these men and women to shreds.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Malik said.

  He grabbed Mollie and started down the path. Khris and Embre trailed slightly behind them. Egg clasped onto Mollie’s arm. Malik thought of relieving Mollie from the heavy burden of Egg, but he did not have the strength to carry it. He was doing well to carry himself. With every step, his body rang out in pain and his mind pleaded with him to stop and fall to the ground. The roar from the beast behind him motivated the other part of his mind, the part that wanted to live, to keep going as fast as he could.

  The hallway widened out again just a few hundred yards away from their original stopping place. Here the room took on a new color. It was no longer the drab gray of rock and stone. Someone had taken the time here to paint murals on the wall depicting the Saints, or what Malik assumed were the Saints. The men and women on the walls were much taller than a normal man or woman. Malik figured they were more akin to the stories of giants he had learned as a child. These creatures were at least thirteen feet tall. Their faces were perfect and held a sense of serenity and power. Their handsthe size of Malik’s chestwere held out before them. Something like a white light emitted from their fingertips. All of them stood around in a circle surrounding a raised altar. In the middle of the raised platform was a small box. The box did not look special, but each of the supposed Saints were focused on it with all their intent. Behind them, the room was being overtaken by black veins creeping over the walls and floor. Malik focused on the figures behind the Saints, seeing that they were much smaller than the beings issuing light from their hands. These, he guessed were human worshipers. Their eyes were black, and their hands were starting to turn into almost furry paws.

  As they walked further into the room, Malik could see the other side of the wall. Here the mural depicted those same Saints, but no longer where they the dominant creatures of the room. The humans, who had stood behind them, had grown large. Their heads still looked like humans, but their bodies were now black, furry, and striped with white. Where their hands had been were large claws the size of a man’s arm. Malik’s breath caught in his throat. He did not need to see the further transformation to know what had happened to those humans behind the Saints. Malik’s eyes trailed from the painting down to Egg.

  Egg’s long comical claws no longer seemed so funny. Malik knew what the creature could do with them. His cute features that Malik once saw were far from cute any longer. The creature was a killer. The only thing stopping it from reaching for that goal was Mollie. Malik looked back up to the paintings. It was obvious that the humans had been transformed into the blight that the old man had talked of. However, something had gone wrong for the Saints, or at least the old man had said it had.

  Mollie must have been coming to the same conclusion as Malik. She moved forward touching the wall. She was not tall enough, none of them were, to reach the murals that hung over them. That did not stop her from tracing the curves of the smooth wall.

  “This must have been where it happened,” Mollie said.

  Malik tried to figure out exactly what had happened, but it was too much to process.

  “Egg is one of them,” Khris said from somewhere behind Malik.

  Malik could hear him stepping forward toward the wall as well. Malik moved away. He wanted to see what else was in the room. His curiosity was piqued and for a moment he forgot all about the aches and pains that ran through his body.

  Further on, the veins of black and gray consumed much of the background completely. No longer could you see the shelves embedded into the walls or the trinkets lining them. The veins seemed to be filled with something that made them pulse as if the room were living and not just a cave
at all.

  Malik came to another painting that depicted the humans totally encompassed by the monster’s new skin. They hovered over the once imposing Saints with menace growing in their eyes. The old man had said something frightened the Saints when they had attempted to destroy the humans. It looked like the blight had chosen their real targets and that the Saints were the once who would perish. The scene along the wall changed to show the Saints cowering in fear. They attempted to fight the creatures but several of the Saints were shown dead along the walls.

  “It is painted over black here,” Malik called.

  He had not realized how far he walked away from the others. They were still in the central chamber and he walked into a room that held only a single stone altar. Around him all the walls had been blacked out as if another artist had been offended by the contents on the walls.

  Mollie and the others looked up from their own trances. They were still studying the first round of paintings and had not even seen the ones depicting the final transformation. Egg was behind Mollie roaming around. It was looking up at what would be his ancestors. Malik hoped that it did not awaken some ancient primal instinct in it.

  What had been behind this black paint? He wondered if it showed how the Saints had escaped, or been trapped, or maybe it showed the beast that was hunting Sweet Tongue and his men. Or maybe, by now Sweet Tongue was dead, and they were free from them.

  Malik walked closer to the altar in the center of the room. He was listening to Mollie and the others as they gave small shocked gasps at each new painting they walked past. He could hear their whispers, but he was not sure if they were talking to one another or just to themselves.

  The altar had a single dip in the middle making a cup filled with a clear liquid. The bowl was big enough for Malik to curl up into a ball and sit inside. Inside the cupped bowl was a box. Malik instantly recognized it as the box shown in the paintings surrounding them. This was the box that the Saints had tried to use to end humanity. This is the box that had ended up making the monsters like Egg and its mother.

  Malik wanted to reach out and touch it, but Mollie’s hand stopped him.

  “Wait!” she said.

  She was intently looking at the box and the liquid as well. Mollie shook the altar, but it was planted steadfast into the ground. She slapped at the surface of the altar closest to the liquid without touching it. The liquid did not ripple or move. Malik looked harder and realized that the liquid was more like a gel and not a liquid at all. He could see the texture in it between the layers, even if it was barely discernable.

  “I am not sure we should touch that,” Mollie said.

  Khris and Embre stepped up to the altar as well. They both examined the substance but did not make comment on it. Egg pulled at Mollie’s pants. Egg was growing larger by the day, but it was still not tall enough to see into the cupped altar. Mollie reached down and hoisted it into her arms. Egg crawled up onto the altar.

  Egg bent down, getting close enough for its reflection to bounce off the substance. Mollie went to reach for the creature, but Malik held his hand out.

  “Let’s see what Egg does,” he urged.

  Mollie looked reluctantly at Egg, but she did not try to remove it from the altar.

  Egg sniffed at the substance with great, heaving breaths. Satisfied, Egg took one claw and ran it across the surface. The liquid, gel did not ripple or move, but some of it did scrape away under Egg’s long claw. Egg held that small amount up to its nose and smelled again. Then Egg threw the gel to the side and scooped another bit from the bowl. Egg did this several times moving quicker with each scoop. After several scoops, Egg reached its hand into the gel and touched the box. At first the box did not react, but as Egg pulled it from the gel, it began to glow the same color as Mollie’s sword. Egg held it eye level and watched as it moved from the warm glow of purple into blue and finally red.

  “What is it doing?” Embre asked.

  Everyone was leaning in as close as they dared to come to both Egg and the glowing box. Egg turned to Mollie and held the box out toward her chest.

  “I am not sure that is a good idea,” Malik said before she could grab it.

  Mollie did look to Malik with curiosity in her eyes. Then she looked back to Egg, who still stood with the cube held out before its chest.

  “I trust Egg,” Mollie said and began to reach out for the cube.

  Just before her fingers could reach the box and take it from Egg’s claws, Malik heard the last voice he wanted to hear.

  “Thank you for finding it for me,” Sweet Tongue said.

  Everyone in the room, including Egg, turned to see Sweet Tongue standing alone in the archway leading to the black painted room. Sweet Tongue was bloody, and a few new scars were added to his repertoire, but he was very much breathing and alive.

  Chapter 35

  Sweet Tongue

  Sweet Tongue still had Mollie’s sword out in front of him. Malik’s heart sank to depths that he figured it would never rise from. Malik had really hoped the monster would take care of Sweet Tongue. Malik had let every hope of happiness ride on the idea that Sweet Tongue was dead, or somewhere slowly dying.

  That was not the case. The fact remained that Sweet Tongue was very much alive.

  “What happened to your friends?” Malik asked.

  It was moments like these that he wondered where his mouth received permission to talk.

  Sweet Tongue laughed. “They are a little held up, but you should not have to worry about them,” he said.

  Sweet Tongue showed no remorse for the mercenaries dying for him. He only had one goal in mind and that was to get the relic that Egg was holding. Malik still had no idea what Sweet Tongue could do with such a piece of history, but after seeing the paintings, he wanted him to have it even less than before.

  “All you have to worry about is handing that box over to me. After that, you can all peacefully die. I was going to keep you around for a while. A consolation prize for Malum taking Abrie, but I don’t have the time or the patience for you anymore,” Sweet Tongue stepped forward.

  Malik and the others did not have weapons to fight Sweet Tongue with. Malik lost his bow when they were first captured. Mollie’s sword was being held by Sweet Tongue. Embre and Khris were not fighters and would not be of any help even if they did have weapons to use.

  Their last hope had been that monster guarding the cave. It had failed and now Sweet Tongue was not only a Tempre, but he was also a dragon slayer.

  Egg tucked the box behind its back. It was still a beacon that drew everyone’s eyes. The color pulsed with each breath that Egg took. Even Sweet Tongue was quiet a moment as he processed what he was seeing.

  Malik tried to think of the best way out of this situation. He knew that giving the box to Sweet Tongue meant everyone in the room’s death and everyone outside the room’s death potentially. He was also aware that not giving the cube to Sweet Tongue also meant death for everyone; two really bad options and no really good solution.

  Sweet Tongue took another step forward. He was not afraid of Malik, Embre, or Khris. Sweet Tongue’s eyes darted from Mollie, who he had seen kill Egg’s mother, and then to Egg who held the cube, but also had giant claws hanging from his hands.

  “Would be over nice and easy if you just took that from the little creature and handed it to me,” Sweet Tongue said to Mollie.

  “You will have to kill us first,” Mollie replied.

  Malik figured Sweet Tongue intended to do just that. If he could kill a dragon, then he could kill four defenseless humans and a small monster.

  “You know Abrie would have been proud to know his pupils did not run away like he did. At the first chance, Abrie tucked his tail and ran into the night,” Sweet Tongue’s eyes did glance to Malik.

  Malik wanted to ignore the words again, but they itched at him.

  “You know nothing about Abrie,” Malik felt the frustration of the situation rising in him. It was a combination of everything he had
gone through since the first time he had seen one of those monsters.

  “Don’t I?” Sweet Tongue stopped coming forward again.

  Malik knew Sweet Tongue was not giving them time. Sweet Tongue was trying to provide himself an opportunity to strike.

  “Not if you believe him a coward,” Malik replied.

  Sweet Tongue never lowered the sword he held in his hands. He would be ready to strike with the briefest of movements and Malik knew their lives were hanging on a thread.

  “I know him to be a coward. You know him to be a Saint like bard, but he is no Saint. Abrie was worse than I ever imagined becoming. How do you imagine I became who I am? Without his help, I would still be just like you.” Sweet Tongue was looking directly into Malik’s eyes now.

  Malik knew that Sweet Tongue had been hinting at Abrie teaching him something, but Malik could not imagine what it was. Had Sweet Tongue been a bard in the past? Did he abandon Abrie to become a Tempre Warrior?

  “What did you do to betray him?” Malik asked.

  Malik was trying to press the conversation. Maybe if he could draw Sweet Tongue’s full attention then Mollie and Egg would be able to come up with something to get them out of this mess. It was small, but it was that pesky glimmer of hope.

  “What did I do to betray him? How much do you know, child?” Sweet Tongue was fully focused on Malik now.

  Malik felt the familiar shiver run up his spine. He would have rather been anywhere else in the world than here under Sweet Tongue’s scrutinizing gaze. Here he was though, and he had no choice but to try to keep the focus on him long enough; or it would not matter.

  “I know enough to know that you are a liar and a murderer,” Malik said.

  Sweet Tongue nodded his head. “That much is true, but what do you actually know of your best friend, Abrie?” he asked.