The Fall of Neverdark

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  41

  Dragorn Unbound

  Alijah’s head shot up from the library desk with a sheet of parchment stuck to his face. The disorientation quickly faded when a pair of young Dragorn offered him bemused smiles. The half-elf peeled the parchment from his face and smiled with them, wondering all the while how long he had been asleep.

  The Dragorn library was a windowless pocket dimension that prevented any of its readers from even guessing the time of day outside.

  On the adjacent table, the two Dragorn Gideon had brought in for extra eyes were studiously scouring through book after book, showing no sign of fatigue. Alijah looked at the pile of books on his table, ashamed that he hadn’t read nearly as many as they had. He decided that his search for anything about the orcs had been in more detail…

  “Good evening,” Gideon greeted from behind, making the rogue jump out of his skin.

  “Is that what it is?” Alijah replied quietly.

  “Come and look at this,” the Master Dragorn said, gesturing to the table behind them. “Get some rest you two.” He dismissed the younger Dragorn.

  “How long was I asleep?’ Alijah asked, dragging his chair back.

  “You’ve been combing through these books for two days, Alijah; don’t worry about how much sleep you’ve had.”

  “What have you been doing?” Alijah asked curiously.

  “Gathering ingredients…” he replied cryptically.

  The table used by Gideon had the two ancient prophecies laid out side by side. They were surrounded by mixing bowls, some filled with pastes while others housed fine powder. Other herbs and plant life had been discarded here and there and two sticks of incense gave off a trail of smoke into the air. If Alijah had to guess, he would say Gideon had been attempting multiple spells.

  The Master Dragorn gestured to the scroll on the left. “The prophecy you found.” He gestured to the prophecy on the right. “The Echoes of Fate.”

  Alijah’s head was still a little fuzzy and he silently thanked Gideon for explaining everything as simply as possible. He also noticed that the cuts and bruises had disappeared from the Master Dragorn’s face and hands now; a miraculous recovery.

  Side by side, the prophecies were easily distinguished by their conditions. Found a thousand years ago by Alijah’s grandfather, the disgraced and exiled king of elves, The Echoes of Fate had been kept in perfect condition over the millennia, its every verse legible. By comparison, the scroll found recently by Alijah was ruined from top to bottom, its every verse damaged in some way.

  “I had been staring at them for hours when I started to see the similarities,” Gideon explained. “I finally had cause to use an old spell I was taught in Korkanath,” he added happily.

  “What have you found?” Alijah asked, glad to be looking at anything that wasn’t a book or connected to The Great War.

  “A few things,” Gideon replied with a wry smile. “The first thing I noticed was the calligraphy. They were both written by the same person.” The Master Dragorn stopped there, adding a dramatic pause to the revelation.

  “You’re sure?” the rogue questioned, looking closely at the two scrolls.

  “I wasn’t until I used a spell to confirm it. They’re a perfect match. As are the hand prints.”

  “They were written at the same time then,” Alijah said, failing to see how this would help them with anything.

  “Yes,” Gideon confirmed. “I used another spell to date the parchment, or skin rather. Both were scribed around ten thousand years ago.”

  Alijah tapped the edge of the ruined prophecy. “But this one was placed under a protection spell after it was damaged.”

  Gideon smiled knowingly. The Master Dragorn flicked his fingers and cast a small destructive spell. The flames hit The Echoes of Fate and rolled over the parchment until they extinguished, leaving the prophecy entirely unharmed.

  Alijah’s heart skipped a beat, horrified for a moment that such a relic was about to be destroyed. “They’re both protected…”

  “Indeed,” Gideon answered. “I suppose no one ever thought to test The Echoes of Fate prophecy, too concerned with keeping something so ancient intact.”

  Alijah was amazed. “So you hit it with a fire spell!” he said incredulously.

  Gideon chewed his lip. “Not exactly. I may have accidentally knocked a candle over. But, all the best things are discovered by accident!”

  Alijah was beginning to wonder if he should have been the one to examine the scrolls. “So, they were both written by the same person and they’re both under a protection spell,” he concluded.

  Gideon turned to the rogue. “Would you like to see who wrote them?”

  Alijah couldn’t stop his face crumpling into confusion. “You can’t be talking about what I think you’re talking about.”

  Gideon gestured to the mixing bowl beside the ruined scroll. Alijah noted the fine blue powder inside.

  “You have Krayt dust.”

  Gideon took the bowl in hand. “It’s not impossible to come by. The spell, on the other hand, takes some practice.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Alijah protested, familiar with the spell’s parameters. “The scrolls weren’t written here. You would have to use the dust wherever they were originally scribed to see into the past. Even then, no one has ever looked back ten thousand years!”

  Gideon nodded along. “That’s all true enough. The scrolls, however, are imbued with magic, magic placed upon them by the one who scribed them. That works as a tether, forever connecting them. Also, that isn’t your usual Krayt powder,” Gideon added with a hint of mischievousness about him.

  For just a moment, Alijah glimpsed a much younger Gideon Thorn, a young man who gave his teachers at Korkanath hell.

  “Why is it different?” he inquired.

  “Because I made it,” Gideon replied confidently. “This library is full of wonders. There’s a whole section on the top floor devoted to spells rather than history. I’ve been itching to use this spell since I discovered it a few years ago,” he insisted. “Though it took me some time to gather the extra ingredients.”

  Alijah was keen to see the spell in action. He had only ever witnessed Hadavad use it, almost four years ago. They had been investigating a recently abandoned dwelling of The Black Hand and the old mage had wanted to see if The Crow had been present. Once the blue powder took flight, it rained down inside the room and gave shape to the dark mages who had been inside. It was a spectacle to watch, glimpsing into the past.

  Gideon poured a small handful of the Krayt powder into his palm and uttered the spell. Alijah paid special attention to the words and enunciations, committing them to memory.

  The spell completed, Gideon waved his hand through the air and released the blue powder. As it had done with Hadavad, the powder rained down over the scrolls, glistening in the firelight. As the powder descended, it clung to an invisible body, giving shape to a man who crouched over both scrolls, as he had done ten thousand years ago. The more powder that clung to the forms the more detail became apparent.

  “Incredible…” Alijah whispered, moving around the table to better see the duplicated man.

  The two forms were certainly the same person; a bald man, skinny by his build. A delicate hand scribed over both scrolls, their movements almost in time.

  “He looks young,” Gideon commented.

  “But who is he?” Alijah asked, his curiosity burning like a flame inside of him.

  “A priest of The Echoes, perhaps?” Gideon suggested, his eyes fixed on the scriber’s hand as he wrote words that couldn’t be seen on the ruined prophecy.

  “It’s hard to say,” Alijah replied. “Both prophecies were found in The Wild Moores, which suggests The First Kingdom had already been destroyed by the dragons of the time. Then there’s the black hand printed on both, which suggests The Echoes might have been replaced by The Black Hand we know today when these were scribed.”

  Alijah had wondered for years how The
Echoes, the dominant religion in The First Kingdom, had evolved into The Black Hand. Both worshipped Kaliban, yet one showed all the hallmarks of an ordinary, if powerful religion, while the other practised necromancy and other dark magic.

  It was a time in history when the humans of Illian had taken refuge in The Wild Moores, hiding from the dragons. As they grew to be as wild as the forest they inhabited, their historical notes faded away, leaving only questions.

  “Look!” Gideon pointed to the scribing of the ruined prophecy.

  The bald man sat back after finishing, perhaps marvelling at his foretelling. Then he lifted a wand from within his powdery robes. He placed it to the scroll and the blue powder imitated the damage seen on the real scroll on the table.

  “He ruined it deliberately,” Alijah said, his eyes as fixed as Gideon’s.

  The bald man proceeded to wave his wand around, over the scroll, and the blue powder glistened here and there.

  “He’s placing the protection spell over it,” Gideon observed. “The other one’s doing the same.”

  Alijah froze. Outlined in blue powder, the invisible man working on the ruined prophecy slowly looked up and tilted his head. He was looking directly at the half-elf.

  “Gideon…” he whispered.

  The Master Dragorn followed the figure’s gaze to Alijah. “He must have been looking at some—”

  The blue figure whipped his head around and looked directly at Gideon. The Master Dragorn took a step back. The bald man regarded Alijah briefly again before turning back to Gideon, his gaze intense.

  “Is he… He can’t really see us, can he?”

  Gideon shook his head. “The spell doesn’t work both ways. He’s dead, long dead in fact. We’re just seeing an echo.” As the Master Dragorn moved around the table, the blue powdered man followed him with eerie precision.

  The truth of what was happening hit Alijah, filling him with dread. “Unless he could see into the future.” His words garnered the bald man’s attention again. “If he was looking into the future ten thousand years ago, he could see us doing this now, looking at him in the past.”

  Gideon moved to end the spell but the bald man flourished his wand and the blue powder fell from his form and that of his twin. The spell had been broken from his end…

  “What just happened, Gideon?” Alijah knew the answer to his own question; he just couldn’t accept that someone could really see into the future.

  “I think your doubts about seeing the future have just been answered,” Gideon replied, cupping his trimmed beard. He sounded collected and calm, but his body language betrayed his grave concern.

  “Why would he destroy only part of the prophecy?” Alijah asked, inspecting the damaged scroll.

  The library door opened above them, ending any further discussion. A Dragorn somewhere between Alijah’s and Gideon’s age walked in, alarm etched across his dark features.

  “Master Thorn.” He bowed his head.

  “Corrigan,” Gideon greeted. “Do we know anything about those massive quakes?”

  “Yes, Master. We’ve just received word from Roddick and Alessandra in Calmardra. It would seem a volcanic eruption has taken place in The Undying Mountains, a massive one.”

  “Volcanic?” Gideon repeated, his focus growing distant.

  “Yes, Master. They can see it all the way from Calmardra. They say the skies are turning black with ash and smoke.”

  “Have them set up relays across the realm,” Gideon ordered. “I want Dragorn situated with just enough distance to stay in mental communication with each other. Have them pull back from The Arid Lands and start patrolling cities and towns that have yet to be targeted by the orcs.”

  “Yes, Master.” Corrigan bowed again and hurried from the library with his commands.

  Gideon folded his arms and ran a thumb over his lips, lost to his thoughts.

  “You are concerned by this volcano,” Alijah stated.

  Gideon paused, dragging himself from the depths of his mind. “I’m concerned about a northerly wind…”

  Alijah followed the Master Dragorn’s thinking and found himself faced with the same concern. “The orcs,” he said. “They couldn’t have known the volcano was going to erupt.”

  “No,” Gideon agreed. “But an ally who can see the future could.”

  Alijah was shaking his head. “All of this…” The half-elf gestured to the prophecy, though he was referring to everything that had happened since The Black Hand found Asher’s bones. “It would take a level of orchestration that couldn’t be achieved if it was conceived ten thousand years ago. It’s too long. Too many variables stand in the way.”

  Gideon sighed. “Yet here we are.”

  Alijah opened his mouth to further his protests when a burning jolt of pain shot through his gut and threw him over the table. Parchments and herbs followed him over, creating a loud clatter and a mess.

  “Alijah!” Gideon skipped over the table with the grace of a cat and landed by the rogue’s side.

  Alijah tried to get up as another searing bolt gripped his left elbow, causing his hand to go into spasm. He cried out, rolling his head against the cold floor.

  “It’s Malliath…” he groaned. “He’s in pain…”

  Gideon turned away as if someone was speaking to him. “It’s Korkanath! Malliath’s attacking the school!”

  Alijah gritted his teeth and found the strength to stand. “We need to go to him.”

  Gideon didn’t look convinced.

  “You said it yourself,” Alijah continued. “I need to strengthen my bond with him. Maybe my presence will weaken his bond with Asher.”

  Again, Gideon looked away, listening to Ilargo no doubt. There was a sense of urgency about him as the dragon relayed the devastation Malliath was causing.

  The Master Dragorn picked up Mournblade in its sheath. “Grab your bow.”

  Under the stars, Ilargo led the way, trailed by six other dragons, five of whom possessed riders. Gideon could feel all of them in his mind as they relayed their thoughts through the minds of their dragons.

  He could feel their trepidation as they flew over The Adean, crossing the short distance to the island of Korkanath. None of them had ever fought another dragon before, but fighting Malliath was perhaps the worst dragon to fight.

  We are still here, Ilargo reminded him, bolstering his resolve.

  I don’t think our fight with Malliath and Asher has filled anyone with courage, Ilargo. We nearly died in Lirian…

  Careful, the green dragon warned. Our thoughts are not entirely guarded.

  Gideon turned to his right, where three Dragorn were hugging closely to their companions’ scales. He could sense their anticipation through the bond, worried for the first time that they might not survive the next hour.

  You need to say something, Ilargo insisted. Before they see him…

  Gideon considered his words before reaching out to acquire permission to enter everyone’s mind at once. It was a jarring experience to speak to so many in such an intimate way, each Dragorn and dragon attempting to guard their most personal thoughts.

  When we reach Korkanath, split into two teams. One to help any survivors and put out fires, the other to help me drive Malliath away. Figorax, it’s probably best you help me with Malliath and leave Korkanath to dragons with riders.

  Figorax, the only dragon without a Dragorn, roared into the sky in agreement.

  Ilargo’s voice sounded deep in Gideon’s mind, where the others couldn’t hear him. Perhaps something a little more rousing?

  Gideon sighed. He’d never had cause to give any speeches before a battle, yet he couldn’t deny the fear he felt through the bond.

  We outnumber Malliath six to one, he began. Ilargo and I will serve as his main distraction, flying low. That will give the rest of you a chance to come at him from above; height is the key. Go for his wings and neck.

  Gideon… Ilargo’s warning tone was accompanied by an image of Alijah, who was currently
behind the Master Dragorn and holding onto the dragon’s spine horns.

  We can’t kill Malliath, he said, addressing the others again. Or Asher for that matter. Both have been forced to act against their will. Our task is to drive them away from Korkanath. If possible, separate Malliath from Asher.

  A mumble of agreements came back at him through the bond, most still unsure how to engage in aerial combat, let alone figure out how to separate dragon from rider.

  Ilargo cut off the bond, speaking directly to Gideon. We’ll work on your motivational speeches…

  Gideon sighed. Just get Alijah down on the island as fast as possible.

  They soared through the night’s sky, over the island nation of Dragorn and across the small stretch of ocean. Korkanath was a beacon on the dark horizon. Malliath’s distant roars told of anguish and retribution to those who understood dragon-kind.

  “Is that Korkanath?” Alijah shouted over the wind.

  Gideon didn’t want to say yes, but the flaming inferno was none other. The school for mages burnt, a towering tornado of flames and smoke. The massive shadow of Malliath swooped down here and there, adding more fire to the wreckage.

  Gideon, Ilargo called softly, no one could survive that, not even mages…

  Gideon thought of the hundreds of children inside. Malliath’s capacity to murder hundreds, if not thousands, in a matter of minutes was unthinkable. The Master Dragorn was instantly torn between his anger and the safety of Alijah. Everything they did to the black dragon would be shared with the half-elf.

  He’s leaving! Ilargo declared, sharing his sight with the others.

  Where’s he heading? Gideon asked, struggling to spot the dragon outside of the inferno’s light.

  He’s heading west. Ilargo paused and Gideon could feel the tension in the dragon’s muscles. He’s heading towards Velia…

  Gideon looked from the empty blackness in the west to the blazing island in front of him. Korkanath was lost. Velia had twenty times its population.

  Go after him, Ilargo.

  The green dragon banked to the left and headed west. The other dragons followed his lead and banked with him, perfectly in time.