“I’m not a fool, Meriel, I take precautions.”
Ahna was engulfed in a prism vision of her brother, who had just lodged a quūora fang into her throat.
A magic suppressor. She could no longer use her magic, and she could not pull the needle out.
“How?” she murmured, her hand clenched her brother’s shoulder.
“I own this kingdom, Ahna. I know everything.”
He shoved her away so she would fall to the ground. He then motioned for his guard to fetch her. “Take her to the tomb. Let my brethren rip each other apart!” He came to kneel one last time next to his sister who writhed on the cold floor. “I gave you a chance, Meriel. Give my regards to Thamias.”
And Xandor let the guards take his sister’s inert body away.
10
Dragonborn
The guards were to throw her into a pit deep below the castle of Bravoure. They carried her down the unending spiral stairs. They raised the portcullis at the end of a dark tunnel and left her on the other side. They then headed back to the surface.
Ahna opened her eyes.
She laid sprawled out, her face in the ground, her stiff neck as cold as ice. She pushed herself up slightly and felt around her throat. The adorned and bejeweled head of the quūora fang stuck out of her windpipe. The pain when she attempted to remove it was eviscerating, like the edge of a sword had pierced through her lungs, and she could not stir it. If she did not touch it, she just felt as though a smothering force was cast on her neck. There was no blood, just a sense of absolute powerlessness. She had to cough. The more she coughed, the more the pain returned. She stood up but fell again. She crawled until she reached the tunnel’s wall and pulled herself back up.
Ahna turned around to dissect her surroundings. No light but the torch’s glimmer behind the portcullis. The tunnel seemed to veer left. She held herself to the wall while she limped her way as far as she could see. It was damp. She had trouble breathing, also because of the heaviness of the air. The wall felt cold, but the air felt…warm. As she followed the curve, she looked beyond and saw the tunnel mute into a large unlit cavern.
As she staggered to the edge of the tunnel, she saw a faint glow in the distance. A cerulean blue shimmer that, for a minute, reminded her of the light in Cedric’s eyes. Cedric…Their bond was gone. She wanted to call for him, but was left with a sole feeling of loneliness. She ambled toward the glow, slowly moving in the absolute darkness.
Suddenly, her foot slid off the soil, and she collapsed to her knees. Beside her, she heard a few detached rocks plunge into the emptiness. She could not hear the second these rocks hit the ground. She did not dare to move further, afraid of sinking into the void herself. Though she could see the shimmer draw closer. She felt for the ground in front of her with a hesitant hand. She tapped on the cold and muddy surface. When she felt ground, she crawled in that direction. She crawled further until she reached the foot of a stone pedestal upon which the shimmer rested. She shifted her weight up and was able to stand over the blue light. The glow came from engraved writings upon what turned out to be a tombstone, which she examined closely.
“Here rests Ghydra, the Protector of Peace.”
Next to the inscription was the single imprint of the mortal dragon’s symbol. As Ahna softly pronounced the written words, she heard a screech from below.
A shriek straight out of a legend.
The ground shook beneath her. She held the pedestal so tight, afraid to fall. The shriek turned into a loud, devastating roar. The sound of slashes through the wind echoed in the dark cavern. As they grew closer, Ahna braced for what would come next.
The bright halo of golden wings blinded her. She had to hold her hand in front of her eyes. A loud roar almost tore through the walls of the cavern once again. Scales as bright as an endless flame flickered in the darkness as the winged creature sunk its talons into the dirt. He laid his glowing and intense ember eyes on the elf, who trembled in fear as any would in the presence of a reborn dragon.
He stretched his neck high and let out the most crushing roar. Ahna could now see the entire cavern lit in the blaze of his teeth. She stood on a small platform rested above the emptiness. A bridge dug into the soil stretched from the tunnel to the tombstone. And below was an endless pit where the dragon had slept all these years.
He beat his wings majestically as to keep his balance. He was aggressive. His wild stare and roar were fueled with an old fury that had been buried all these years.
“Thamias,” Ahna called desperately. “Thamias, stop!”
The dragon did not heed her plea. Instead, he folded his serpentine neck backwards. His eyes reddened from the heat that propagated from his heart to his nostrils. In a tilt of the head forward, a gust of fire burst out of his mouth and raged onward. Ahna rolled to the side and curled up behind the pedestal. She pressed herself as thin as she could. She felt the burning sensation of the flames brush against her shoulders. When the infinite scorch ended, she carefully turned to the golden dragon.
The beautiful beast howled at her.
In the darkness lit, she saw the large shackles around his feet, and she noticed the encrusted scars of decades of captivity. The dragon roared fiercely again.
“Thamias, stop!”
Her voice had ended in a loud cough. The quūora fang pierced further through her throat. She was forced to bend forward in pain. She toppled and landed on all fours in the ground. As the dragon prepared its next destructive fire, Ahna slowly crawled to him. She called again, multiple times, and hoped to spark some appeasement in the mind of her crazed brother.
But Thamias only roared again.
His claws crashed into the ground before her. She thought the soil bridge would collapse. She closed her eyes in terror, afraid of what would come next.
“Thamias,” she cried. “It’s me, Meriel...”
She raised her eyes to his smoldering gaze. The embers in his eyes flickered with wrath.
For a brief moment, she focused on her brother’s beating heart. She did not hear the rapid beating of rage, but the arrhythmic pace of pain. She contemplated what her brother may have endured, trapped in the Tomb of Ghydra in his draconic form, for half a century. Thamias had lost more than she had. His freedom. But most of all, he had lost the memory of himself.
She slowly brought herself up and faced her long lost brother. “Thamias, it’s you,” she softly murmured. Her broken voice shredded to whispers.
The dragon stretched his neck back.
“You’re Thamias!” she shouted with all she had. “Thamias, my brother!” She collapsed to the ground.
To her surprise, the dragon had fallen silent to the mention of the word brother. She suddenly had a glimmer of hope. “You’re my brother!” she cried as her tears crashed around her.
Thamias’ eyes dimmed. His roar became a deep, long growl.
“Remember Mother? Her voice...the way she sang the songs of Mal.”
The dragon tilted his head and serpented closer to Ahna. She looked at him and plunged her clouded gaze into his amber eyes. Her voice, the voice of his sister, it soothed the lost dragon.
“Yes!” she said with a soft smile. “You’re Thamias, and you’re my brother. Remember? Do you remember Bravoure?” She smiled some more as Thamias became calmer. “Do you remember the brave soldiers you fought with,” she asked calmly in silence. “Think of them, Thamias, the honest Bravan soldiers. Think of their bravery, Thamias.”
She stretched her arm toward the muzzle of the calmed dragon. She could almost reach it. She could almost touch her long lost brother.
Thamias opened his eyes wide as a sudden beam pierced through the scales of his chest. Another ray pierced through his back, then through his wings, bursts of light engulfed the dragon whole. He raised his head to the sky and howled a dying note.
The radiance dimmed. The dragon disappeared. Ahna saw the figure of her brother curled up on the cold ground. He shivered, cried, and trembled from the shock o
f his long-awaited transformation. Ahna crawled slowly to him and covered him under her cloak. She came closer to him, plunged her face in his thick, untrimmed silver hair, and she wrapped her arms around him and finally closed her eyes.
The shrike captain stood ready to plunge his blade in the Despot’s heart. Jules had seen the tranced captain stand up and brandish his shortsword as he prepared to strike. But in the blink of an eye, Cedric suddenly dropped his weapon and collapsed to his knees. He called for Ahna, multiple times. Jules wanted to calm him down but did not dare step into the circle of salt.
“Ahna!” Cedric shouted once again. He quickly turned to Jules. “One minute I’m there, one minute I’m back here.”
Jules, confused, spoke softly to appease him. “What’s going on, Cedric? You were so far gone. What happened?”
Cedric took a long deep breath, trying to recollect his thoughts. Sharr’s words, Ahna’s words, everything spiralled in his head. He picked up his sword, stood up and focused quietly. Something had happened to Ahna.
Lord Sharr, her brother? The Dragonborn, still alive?
It did not matter what he had seen or heard, he was way beyond that by now. He had felt what Ahna had felt. He had seen what Ahna had seen. He had been in her head and right now, only the idea of saving her was in his.
Their connection had abruptly been broken. The elf could be in terrible danger. Cedric had heard Xandor speak of a tomb. Could it be the tomb of Ghydra, the one from the legends?
In any case, he needed to get to Ahna as fast as he could. Something in his heart rallied him to.
He paused for a moment then stared at the salt circle. “She said there were two spells, right?”
“Yes,” Jules stuttered hesitantly. “Something binding you together, and something binding this circle to...”
“The Abstract Plane, yes,” Cedric completed the lieutenant’s sentence.
The shrike captain thought for a second. Ahna was somewhere in Sharr’s grasp. He could feel a faint glimmer as though she was just out of reach. His next best guess was the dungeon underneath the castle.
“By the entrance, to the left,” Cedric thought out loud. “Down the stairway, and down and down, through the hallway, right...”
“What are you doing, Captain?”
Cedric signaled for him to stop. “I was a mercenary then a spy. I’ve been in this castle a dozen times. I’m picturing where the dungeons are.” He frowned as he focused. “She said I just needed to...will it, right?”
“To fade? Yes.”
Cedric clenched a fist and looked up apprehensively. “Well, here we go!”
The shrike captain closed his eyes.
Ahna held her little brother close. She smelled the scent of his hair, kissed his cold skin. He shivered as he sat up straight. She was crying, and so was he. Thamias looked to his sister in the darkness.
“Meriel...” he murmured. “Meriel, I’m so sorry. I failed.” Ahna kept him close. She softly shushed him to soothe his cries. “How long has it been?”
His sister sighed. “Too long.”
The chains that had shackled his feet had fallen at the bottom of the cavern. They were engulfed by the deep, glooming darkness. Thamias dried his tears with his sister’s cloak.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” Ahna promised him. “Xandor took you from me once, I won’t let him take you again.”
Thamias still shivered. His sister held him close.
“There are so many things I want to say,” Ahna cried as she hugged her brother tight.
“Ahna, I had something to tell you. I can’t remember...”
They heard the portcullis suddenly be raised.
Two dark figures surged out of the darkness with torches in their hands. Behind them marched the Dark Lord, Xandor Kun Sharr. He scowled at them with a glare filled with disdain.
“Good to see you as your old self, little brother, now you’re easier to move!” Lord Sharr held a long pause. “Meriel, I had a presentiment that things would go this way. Thank you, sister, you’ve played your part.”
He motioned for his guards to take Ahna. The two sturdy men seized her by the arms and dragged her away.
“Meriel!” Thamias cried.
“Thamias!” she called in response. “I’m going to get you out of here, I promise!”
Thamias tried to hold on to her arms, but the guards hauled her away by force. He yelled out again, begged for Xandor to let her go.
As Ahna was dragged into the tunnel, Lord Sharr finally turned to Thamias. “You’d better transform at my command. I’m going to need you very soon.”
The guards locked the gate of her cell in front of her. Behind the hatch, Ahna heard Xandor speak to the guards. He instructed them not to talk to her, not to let her near the gate, and not to let her pull that needle from her throat. Before leaving, he looked at her through the hatch.
“I’ll keep you here so you can watch me crush the Resistance,” he declared.
Ahna, weakened by the previous tumultuous events, spoke softly. “You’ll never succeed, Xandor. You may strike the Resistance now, but more will rise up to destroy you and eventually, they will prevail.”
Lord Sharr chuckled uncontrollably. His laughter reverberated like a strident howl against the dungeon walls. “It’s all over Meriel, the Resistance is dead.” Ahna looked in the eyes of her tormented brother. He pursued his twisted laughter. “I am coming to Orgna, Meriel!” he screeched as he marched away. “It’s all over!”
Down and down, through the hallway, right and further down.
Cedric opened his eyes.
He stood between two walls in a dark corridor lit by a series of torches. He looked around. Prison cells. He was in the right place.
He shook his head to recollect his thought. He was positively surprised by the little effect the whole teleportation thing had on him. He brushed his messy hair with his hand.
He needed to find Ahna.
The shrike walked on the very edge of the aisle, listening carefully to any sound. He passed an intersection. That is when he saw Him, the Dark Lord, and three of his guards, walking up the stairway to the throne room.
Cedric then took a gamble. He veered in the direction they had come from.
Shit!
The guard at the edge of the hallway had seen him. The silversteel armored man charged without hesitation and Cedric held his sword firmly. Before the guard could swing his weapon at him, the shrike bent forward and swiped his blade horizontally. He cut through the dokkalfar’s flesh like a steel knife through fresh meat. The wounded guard fell to the ground, and Cedric jerked his sword down his throat, severing his windpipe. A set of keys hung from the dead guard’s belt. Cedric grabbed them quickly and moved further down the hallway.
As he almost reached the next staircase down, the glimpse of a human shadow in a nearby cell dragged his gaze away. He came closer to the barred door and looked inside.
“Jade...”
The frail woman laid on a rug on the cold ground. Cedric opened his mouth agape. He seized the keys and tried all of them, almost at once, to open the door.
By the fourth one, he had it.
Cedric rushed inside to tend to Jade. He dropped his sword and knelt beside her. Her body appeared mangled. She was in critical shape. There were cuts along her arms and legs, bruises around her neck, on her cheeks, blood around her mouth. She could barely breathe.
“Jade, what happened?” Cedric asked, stroking her head rested on his thighs.
She exhaled a few inaudible words. Her tunic was spoiled, and there was blood between her legs. Her soiled feet appeared to have been crushed, and not much of her toes remained. Cedric was utterly horrified.
“By the gods, Jade,” he murmured. “What did they do to you?”
The councilor gripped onto his collar with the little strength she had left.
“Cedric,” she whispered with difficulty.
He came closer to her.
“I betrayed the Resis
tance.” Her voice faded away. Cedric shook his head, holding her closer. “I told him of Orgna, Cedric. I told him of Ahna. He had my father, please forgive me.”
She pleaded desperately, begged him several times. The shrike would not hear any of it. He wanted to lift her up and get her out of here, but she stopped him.
“You need to kill me, Cedric,” she begged. “And you need to run. He’s coming to Orgna. He has an army ready, and he’s coming to Orgna!”
A tear ran along her cheek. In her eyes, Cedric distinguished the most profound remorse. He had no words, only anguish.
“Please kill me, Cedric,” she begged again.
The shrike pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He clenched his jaw and seized the pommel of his sword. After a painful minute, he brought the edge of the steel beneath Jade’s chest. He cast a grave look over her, and she nodded slowly in regretful approbation.
“This is my absolution,” she whispered as Cedric sunk his blade through her heart.
Her trembling voice died with her. The leader of the Shrike Wing closed her eyes, and her subordinate rested a moment by her side.
The angered marksman descended lower into the dungeon. He came across more guards, which he cut through like tall grass in a wild field. There was so much fury in his heart. His mind was focused on but one thing: find Ahna.
The next guard attempted to swing a warhammer at him. Cedric sliced through his arm and ripped it off with his sheer strength. While the guard bled out on the cold stone floor, Cedric seized the additional set of keys that hung from his belt.
On his path, he saw other prisoners, some dead in their cells, some rotting away. Some did not even beg for their freedom, and some just stared distantly at the shrike.
When he came to a final turn, he saw a reinforced door guarded by two of Sharr’s men. The first one charged him and ended with pieces of his brain dripping off Cedric’s sword. The other fled.
Tempest of Bravoure: Kingdom Ascent Page 14
