by Isaac Hooke
Finally, Malem sent the dragon.
“Who wants to be my snack?” Hastor boomed. “You?” The dragon snatched an orak from the crowd below with its maw and chewed. Malem heard the snap of breaking bones and armor. “Like cracking nuts in their shell.”
Malem felt Balethorn’s thirst for the dragon, but ignored it.
Hastor swallowed its tasty treat and then paralyzed a group of oraks with its gaze, allowing Malem to rapidly slay them.
A rock elemental erupted from the cobblestone next to the dragon’s perch.
“Oh goodie, a toy.” Hastor reached down, scooped up the rock elemental, and tore off the upper body with its jaws. Then it crushed the rest of the entity in its talons.
Hastor sought out the gray-robed mage responsible: an orak surrounded by a group of armored guards near the far side of the street. Hastor launched several dark streaks of magic their way.
The streaks struck the oraks, including the mage, and black veins crawled up their skin as they fell.
“Who’s next?” Hastor asked.
Chains of dark mist enveloped Hastor from the side and unceremoniously tore the dragon from the rooftop, slamming the black creature into the cobble and dragging it across the street until it lay in a pile before a small blue woman. Behind the dragon lay all the dead oraks Hastor had crushed along the way.
The woman was dressed in a green and purple corset with a skirt of black blades. The chains of mist were wrapped around her left hand, while in her right she held a long halberd that seemed too big for such a small woman to carry, especially one-handed. The blade edge of the weapon glowed purple, like her eyes.
“That would be me, traitor,” the woman said.
Ziatrice had arrived.
40
Malem stared at the woman who stood on the opposite side of the street across from him, unsure of what to do. He glanced at the keep behind her, but the defenders remained sheltered inside their broken walls. No help was coming from that quarter.
Dark mist curled from the eyes of Ziatrice as she raised the halberd to strike off Hastor’s head.
A stream of dragon flame hit her from the left side. An invisible shield deflected the flames in an elliptical pattern around her body. Another stream joined the first, coming in from the right. Again, it was averted by the unseen force that surrounded the night elf. More flames came from all sides as the surviving Metals clambered onto the rooftops and unleashed their terrible breaths.
But Ziatrice merely stood at the center of the attack, and merely laughed.
She swung the halberd about herself, and the blade wrapped around the flames as if they had physical form, and she gathered them into a twisted knot around its haft. Then she pulled, and the dragons were physically yanked forward, as if dragged by their flames, and crashed headfirst into the street below as the blaze dissipated.
Fire elementals appeared in front of Ziatrice, six of them, but she swung her halberd and cut them in half; the severed elementals screamed and vanished. A shell of ice materialized around her body as the very air froze and encased her. At least one Metal among them was an ice mage, then.
The ground began to shake, and cracks formed in the ice shell. Abruptly it shattered.
Malem commanded Hastor to strike. The black arose and swatted a forepaw at her tiny form. But his paw struck that invisible shield. Hastor tried to pull away the limb, but it seemed physically glued to the unseen force.
Ziatrice swung her halberd down and severed Hastor’s trapped limb. The dragon screamed, and retreated at a limp, the blood pouring from its wound in torrents. It flapped its wings halfheartedly, unable to summon the energy to fly. The poor creature was moaning terribly.
Ziatrice, meanwhile, was laughing.
Abigail leaped onto her next.
No! Malem sent.
She too became glued to the invisible shield that protected Ziatrice.
He shoved past the oraks in front of him who had paused to watch the attack. That woke them from their hypnotic gawking, and they promptly attacked. He was forced to defend.
Gwen! he sent. Help Abigail.
He flooded Abigail with stamina, but she was unable to break free.
From a nearby rooftop, arrows assailed the night elf, courtesy of Gwen. They launched in such rapid succession that they formed a dashed line visible to the eye. But they bounced away harmlessly from the invisible shield.
Black dragons, whom the Metals had abandoned in order to attack Ziatrice, had been watching from the rooftops, but they joined the fray now, perhaps obeying some telepathic order from Ziatrice. They leaped onto the Metals that had been dragged into the street, and began grappling them once more.
One of them struck at Gwen, forcing her to leap off the rooftop and into a side street, out of view.
Abigail, meanwhile, remained glued.
Ziatrice swung those chains of mist and wrapped them around Abigail’s head, pulling it close to the ground. The night elf then held the halberd to her bare neck, lining up the weapon for the killing blow. The blade was just wide enough at that particular spot to behead the silver dragon in a single strike.
That halberd rose…
“No!” he shouted as he fought the oraks.
The cobblestone underneath Ziatrice shattered as green vines thrust upward from the soil underneath, traveling within the boundaries of her invisible shield. Those vines wrapped around the night elf and yanked her cleanly underneath the earth, blade and all.
Abigail broke free—the invisible substance that had glued her no longer existed.
Five more Metals swept past overhead. A figure dropped from one of the low-flying dragons and landed on a nearby rooftop. Malem recognized Xaxia in her corset and leggings.
The newcomers landed and attacked the blacks that were assailing the other Metals.
One of the dragons, a great gold, touched down behind Abigail in the cramped street. Fleshy lobes of wattle hung underneath its chin like a beard.
“Daughter,” the gold boomed. “What have you done?”
A black dragon leaped down from a nearby building and attacked the gold. Another took Abigail.
Xaxia fought her way through the oraks to his side.
“Hey, Breaker,” she said. “Miss me?”
He parried an attack and caught the orak in the chest on the riposte. “More than you can ever know, Bandit. I thought your monster fighting days were behind you?”
“I thought so, too.” She ducked an attack and her sword glowed as she split open her opponent’s belly. “But as you know, I’ve always been a sucker for the underdog. You’ll never guess who was waiting for me in the stables to help me pick out a steed: the dragon king himself! But then some flunky named Henry showed up and told him his precious daughter had flown the coop. The king asked me if I had ever ridden a dragon into battle before. I told him no. He responded with, do I want to?”
He shoved an orak back with his shield and shattered the sword of another with Balethorn. “Wait, you rode the king?”
“I couldn’t very well resist a ride from the dragon king, now could I?” she said.
He slew the unarmed orak and deflected another incoming blow with his shield. “Why are there only five of you?”
“Apparently he struck a deal with that council of his.” She kicked an orak in the nards and when it slumped over in pain she separated its head from its body. “If he fails, they can disavow any knowledge of his attack when Vorgon comes knocking. They can say he acted alone. Went rogue.”
“But five isn’t enough!” he exclaimed.
“It was the only way he would come,” she told him.
As he fought, he detected another weak-minded orak nearby and broke it, crushing it completely for its stamina. As usual, he got only a disappointedly small boost.
He checked on Hastor: he sensed that the black had collapsed in a nearby street. It was still bleeding out, but far less so—the dragon was already beginning to heal. Still, with its blood loss, the dragon w
as definitely out of the fight. No amount of stamina Malem could provide would return its lifeblood.
He decided he was going to have to release the creature and Break another dragon closer at hand. He glanced beyond the oraks, toward Abigail and Agantas: the buildings around the Metals were crushed, forming a clearing of sorts in the street, so they had room to fight side by side. Four black dragons surrounded them. Two of the four were wrapped in green vines, and were biting at them, trying to break free, while their claws gripped the surrounding cobblestone, trying to prevent the vines from dragging them under the earth. The other two were swiping at Agantas and Abigail, but mostly keeping their distance, occasionally breathing acid or launching dark magic to irritate existing wounds in their scales.
One of the two blacks was sorely injured and moved with a limp as it circled the pair in the rubble of that clearing. Malem decided that one would be his new dragon.
But before he could do anything, the cobblestone next to Abigail and Agantas exploded.
Ziatrice emerged in all her terrible glory. Black mist flowed around her body, sourced from her glowing purple eyes.
The vines released the other two dragons and withered. Agantas, or whoever was controlling the plants, could probably create only so many at once, and was releasing them so he could concentrate on the night elf.
Sure enough, more of the vines erupted from the ground immediately underneath Ziatrice, attempting to wrap around her once more, but this time the climbing plants sloughed away upon contact.
“Ah, King Agantas,” Ziatrice said. “I thought I sensed your earth magic. No other Metal is as powerful as you in that discipline, after all. I’m pleased, very pleased, that you’ve come. Vorgon wants you to serve as one of his Black Swords, you see. And you will serve.”
She launched those chains of mist from her free hand, wrapping them around both Abigail and Agantas, holding the beautiful dragons fast.
A huge earth elemental thrust from the ground beside her, no doubt courtesy of Agantas. It slammed a thick hand down at the night elf, but struck that invisible shield once more.
Ziatrice laughed, and swiped her halberd three times in rapid succession. Three diagonal slices appeared in the earth elemental’s body, and the big creature slid apart in three sections and collapsed.
Malem was still fighting the press of oraks alongside Xaxia. “Cover me!”
He stepped back a moment while she deflected the brunt of the attacks. He released Hastor and concentrated on the black dragon he had intended to Break. The injured creature was very weak, and Malem easily wrapped his will around its mind. However when he squeezed the dragon instantly fought him, its mind flailing about like a freshly caught pike. Meanwhile its external body froze entirely as its mind counteracted the threat; acid drooled from its open mouth, fountaining onto the street.
And then, just like that, the dragon gave up. Malem allowed its will to expand into the mental slots of his own mind as he took control, and it filled him almost to capacity.
His mental attack had further weakened the black, to the point the dragon could barely stand, so he was forced to grant the creature some of his own stamina, which itself had been reduced from the Breaking process.
Then he sent it toward the night elf.
The black came alongside Ziatrice as if to stand guard, but then it lurched forward, striking down with its open maw. It wrapped its teeth around her, but instead of gripping her body, it instead gripped the empty air of that force field.
Ziatrice glanced up at the dragon’s mouth that was frozen to the invisible shield around her. “Another traitor!”
She promptly swung her halberd about, cutting the head away from her in four quick, gruesome strikes.
Malem instantly felt the blowback as his connection to the dragon severed, and he staggered.
The headless body of the dragon backed away, its neck undulating like a loose water hose as the blood gushed forth, until finally it collapsed.
The night elf turned toward Agantas. “Which one of your subjects is doing this? Ah, not that it matters. They will all be dead, very shortly. Will you serve me?”
“Never,” the king said.
Malem clambered to his feet. Xaxia seemed to be flagging beneath the onslaught of the oraks; her fickle blade, Biter, was no longer granting her energy from the fallen, then. But Gwen returned to the fray, launching a barrage of arrows from a nearby rooftop, striking those oraks that came in from the sides, and would have otherwise slain Xaxia.
He wearily reached out, searching for any weak oraks nearby. Yes… there, a couple of beasts left for dead. He took them and expired them for their stamina, but he had crushed too many of them already and they gave him only a tiny boost.
He tried Breaking the weaker black dragons next, but all of them were too strong for his current vitality levels. He couldn’t even distract them from their attacks against the remaining Metals.
He returned his attention to the night elf.
Keeping the translucent black chains wrapped around both the king and his daughter, Ziatrice had climbed onto Abigail’s back. She thrust her halberd into the base of Abigail’s neck at an angle, and the Metal dragon screamed.
Ziatrice withdrew the blade and struck again at the same angle. Another scream. Blood erupted in spurts, marring her beautiful iridescent skin.
The night elf continued to strike, and in that manner slowly peeled the scales back, away from her body, as if skinning an elk that had already been slaughtered.
Except Abigail was still alive, and fully aware of every blow.
41
Malem sensed incredible agony through his link with the princess. And he felt helpless to help her, separated by a wall of oraks directly in front of him, and black dragons on either side, with his strength flagging.
He decided he was going to try climbing one of the nearby rooftops, then make his way to the rubble of the street near Abigail and her father. He’d summon the energy to fight through any dragons blocking his path, and maybe drain one of them with Balethorn. After that, he’d take Ziatrice.
Somehow.
Great plan. Probably won’t survive it. But hey.
Before he could move, three oraks sneaked past Xaxia’s attacks and Gwen’s arrows to rush him. He was forced to defend.
He was vaguely aware as Abigail tried summoning a last fire elemental, but Ziatrice again hewed through it with ease using her halberd.
“Stop! Stop! I will serve!” Agantas finally said. Tears streamed down the dragon king’s golden cheeks. “I submit to Vorgon’s will!”
“No father!” Abigail said.
But Ziatrice merely grinned and jumped down off of Abigail’s back. She kept her chains tightly wrapped around the pair as she approached Agantas.
More vines erupted from the earth beneath her, but once again they withered upon contact.
“What’s this?” the night elf said as she neared him. “Still you resist? You deceive me, then? Should I return to your daughter’s hide and continue opening her before your eyes?”
“No.” He bowed his head. “I am yours.”
She took a final step forward and laid her right hand, the hand that held the ghostly chains, onto the dragon king’s massive muzzle. “Yes, you are mine.” More chains wrapped around Agantas’ head.
The buzzing in Malem’s mind peaked, and the sun seemed to shine less brightly in the sky, as if obscured behind a hidden cloud.
He grinned widely.
Summoning his strength, he grabbed one of the oraks and threw it into the swirling portal of pure blackness that had materialized behind him. The Darkness eagerly grabbed the orak with hands of nightmarish mist and swallowed it.
Malem dove between the other two oraks and let the Darkness consume them, too, as it followed him. The bodies slowed it down, and he used the opportunity to dart to the side, step onto a collapsed wall, and vault onto a nearby rooftop.
He Broke two more injured oraks behind him and threw them into the p
ath of the Darkness before it could reach the rooftop.
Malem leaped to the adjacent roof, and the next, passing by crouching orak archers that had exhausted their arrow supplies. They started when he passed, and seemed relieved when he left them alone, but the Darkness took them anyway when it passed a moment later.
He reached the last intact rooftop and leaped down into the rubble the dueling dragons had left in their wake. He hastily picked his way across the bricks and other debris that once formed the fallen houses, and weaved between the grappling blacks and Metals. His mind vaguely noted that the Metals had killed off enough blacks so that their ranks were about equal in number now, but it had cost them: the metallic dragons moved wearily, injured and close to exhaustion.
Both sides ignored Malem, this small human darting past. But they couldn’t ignore the swirling mass of pure evil that followed him, and both sides stopped fighting to watch the vortex pass them by.
He dashed past the bound form of Agantas, taking care to ensure the Darkness rounded the dragon king’s prone body before he swerved inward slightly. His current path would take him several paces to the right of Ziatrice.
The night elf spotted him and smirked. “A human? Humans are so short lived. So ephemeral.”
She lifted her right hand, which held the smoke-like restraints, from the king’s head, and flicked it toward Malem. That caused another set of smaller chains to launch at him.
Malem dove to the ground and rolled, moving more nimbly than any dragon ever could, and the chains missed.
Ziatrice was about to hurl another set, but seemed astonished when, rather than bothering to engage, Malem simply continued right on past her. It was only when he was well past her that he veered inward once more, closer to Abigail, so that the pursuing Darkness lined up directly with Ziatrice, sparing the king in the process.
Ziatrice still hadn’t notice that incoming maelstrom, as her amazed gaze was fixed firmly upon Malem. Then the confusion abruptly left the night elf’s face, replaced by raw determination. She pointed her halberd at him, no doubt preparing some malevolent strike of dark magic; it was then that she finally noticed the black shadow stretching over her body as the sun was eaten up by the vortex behind her.
