When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  They shook their heads.

  “This is the Abyss,” he said. “In its uttermost depths is a singularity, a space of such dense weight that even light falls inside it. It is here where Athra cast Malahkma, and it is around its periphery that Klrain discovered the beginnings of Dis, encrusted around its ring-pass-not.”

  “Ring-pass-not?” Arda shook her head, not understanding.

  “Event horizon,” Tal Harun stated. “The point at which you cannot escape its pull. Klrain took what was on its edge and built… this place.”

  “If cutting Dis off from the world means severing the Abyss, keeping Malahkma bound forever, then you must do it,” Arda told him.

  He still hesitated. “You’ll be stuck here with me.”

  Anuit placed her black hand on his shoulder. “It is better for Ahmbren. We will fight for Dis and make it our own. At least we have each other.” She glanced at Arda when she said that.

  Tal Harun nodded. “You’re right, I’ve fought too long for this. The Black Dragon’s remnant too will be imprisoned. The time is now.”

  He opened his hand flat, and the cube slowly levitated and floated out over the open expanse. The wizard uttered two magical phrases, and the eldritch script in the engraved squares on the cube’s six sides flared to life. It spun, faster and faster, until sparks of light jumped out and fell into the darkness.

  Tal Harun uttered the final word of the spell that would send the cube plunging into the singularity of the Abyss below.

  The cube stopped. It froze, no longer spinning. Its script still glowed, but all movement ceased.

  Tal Harun gasped. “No!” he cried out. “It must work!” There was no demon that could stop that spell, no demon—

  A quiet laughter rose from their left.

  They turned, and saw a human man, dressed in black.

  “You’re right,” the Man in Black said softly, eyes glittering at Tal Harun. “No demon could stop that spell.”

  Tal Harun readied his staff and took a step back. A dozen spells flitted through his mind, the best of hundreds that could be used to attack, or immobilize, or sweep his companions to safety. He narrowed his eyes and brought the magical flows around this man into focus, seeing their patterns as they eddied around him.

  The demons in the hall had stopped fighting. More had flooded onto the ring pathway around the void, having found other entrances, but they too stopped when the Man in Black appeared.

  “Yamosh,” Tal Harun stated. No. The King of Dis… the wizard wasn’t ready. “My spell should have worked,” he muttered aloud.

  Yamosh raised an eyebrow. “I’m a god. I am beyond magic.”

  Tal Harun pondered this statement. From what Arda had told him, the gods were formed by the Kairantheum, and the Kairantheum had been created by sidhe magic. How could a god, then, be beyond magic? Either he lied… or there was something still they didn’t understand.

  Yamosh studied each of them. Like Tal Harun, the others were hesitant to make the first move against a god.

  Yamosh turned his gaze to the cube. He raised an eyebrow. “You thought to trap me with this,” he mused. “Very clever, Tal Harun. It would not have been enough, but for the rest of Dis… it might.”

  Then he turned to Anuit. “You have achieved equilibrium in the Dark, a feat which no other mortal has attained.” And finally, he addressed Arda. “And the Seal of Light. What an unlikely grouping. Athaym is in Dis as well—even now he approaches.”

  The god cocked his head to the side. “And Malahkma roils below, ever seeking to break the bonds of her singularity.” A grin spread over his face. He threw back his head and laughed. “Very well, I concede Dis to you!” His eyes twinkled in dark mirth. “Lock yourselves all up here; I care not for this place, and my focus is demanded elsewhere. I think my sister would be quite pleased with all of you out of the way.”

  He stepped over the Abyss, walking suspended by invisible forces over the expanse. He placed a single finger on the cube, and it began to spin once more.

  Before he vanished, he turned his head to look over his shoulder. “Anuit, I bequeath this place to you. You are the sovereign Queen of Dis, and I relinquish all rights to its throne.” A smile. “Good luck!” And then he was gone.

  The cube spun, faster and faster, until its light exploded throughout the many layers of the Demon City, touching all corners of the infernal realm.

  Tal Harun breathed a sigh of relief.

  It was done. The watchtowers had been erected, and Dis existed in its own space, separate from the rest of the universe. He had imprisoned the Black Dragon and his demons, sealing them away forever. He had saved Ahmbren. Now they fought for Dis.

  There was no time to rest. The demons drew close. Arda, Anuit, and Tal Harun drew together. He prepared to translocate them away, but the timing had not yet aligned correctly… just a few seconds more…

  And then it slipped away.

  The whole alignment of Dis just went… wrong.

  Beyond the throng of demon hosts, a dark presence moved among their midst. Tal Harun’s heart fell, and he turned to face the Black Dragon.

  The dark seelie elf and little seelie girl emerged from the crowd. Demons of all factions moved—no, they were pushed—away from their path.

  “Klrain!” he said.

  At that name, Arda and Anuit turned away from the demons facing them towards the oncoming elf.

  “Athaym!” Arda exclaimed. “What did you do with Aradma!”

  The little girl beside him sucked in a breath. “How do you know my mother?” she blurted.

  Arda started. Anuit shuddered. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Arda breathed so softly that Tal Harun suspected the girl did not hear her. “Kaldor’s daughter.” Arda’s crystalline eyes fixated on Athaym, blazing in fury.

  Tal Harun stared at the girl. Kaldor’s daughter… then she’s my descendent too.

  Athaym locked eyes with the paladin, and his face relaxed, lips parting in surprise. “The Light!” he exclaimed. “The Seal of Light! Archurion’s heir!” He reached for her.

  Anuit’s wings burst wide, and shadowy energy shot from her body. She launched herself at the evil light elf, channeling streams of Dark fury down upon him.

  Unaffected by her onslaught, Athaym caught her forehead in his hand and threw her back. She fell out of her demonic countenance and crumpled to the ground as an unconscious human woman.

  No, Tal Harun’s mind reeled. It will all be for nothing! He is Klrain! Anger twisted Tal Harun’s gut. This was the creature who had destroyed his people. This was the one who had tempted Artalon’s Circle of Thirteen to sorcery. This was the one who had created the darkling race and then one by one had them fall to despair and sacrifice themselves so that he might grow his demonic armies in Dis.

  “Seal of Light!” Athaym called out. “I have need of you!” And then he was beside Arda, right next to Tal Harun. As an afterthought, he threw the wizard aside, and Tal Harun crumpled to the floor. He lost his grip on his staff, and the wooden rod scattered across the ledge, falling into the Abyss.

  Athaym held Arda by the neck, her feet hanging inches over the ground. She struggled, her hands trying to peel his fingers away but to no avail. Behind them the little elf girl watched in glee.

  Shadowy fingers flowed from Athaym’s arm into Arda. Through her crystalline skin, Tal Harun saw the inky energy encircle and cut her heart off from the Light. Suddenly, the swirling constellation that was Arda faded, and she was once more an ordinary darkling woman, struggling naked in Athaym’s grasp.

  The watchtowers, Tal Harun thought. They will prevent him from leaving. Dis is cut off—

  Athaym looked at Tal Harun briefly and then turned his attention to the sky. He clenched his free hand into a fist, and the Dark flowed through the land at his command. A deep THRUM sounded, and Tal Harun felt his watchtowers shatter into smoke and dust.

  All for nothing! Ten thousand years…

  Athaym paused for one more second. “Kill her,”
he told the elf girl, indicating Anuit, “and then bring me the hosts of Dis!”

  He disappeared with Arda.

  “NO!” Tal Harun shouted.

  The elf girl regarded him with a feral grin. “You first,” she said, raising black-scale-covered hands. What a strange skin-suit she wears…

  Demons closed in around them. The wizard knew he didn’t have enough magic to fight them off. If only he could get away…

  He felt Dis shift, and suddenly the twinge in his heart that told him Sanctuary was ready to receive him again settled.

  But without his staff! His spells were limited. No, there was no way out for him. He could only save one of them…

  The elf girl drew close, eyes blazing, lips peeled wide, teeth snarling. Her fingers clenched, and dark shadows dripped from them.

  Only seconds…

  Tal Harun turned and knew what he must do. All his waking life he had fought against the King of Dis, first Klrain and then Yamosh. Now, he fought to protect Dis’s sovereign, her new queen. He outstretched his arms, uttering the eldritch words, and then Anuit’s unconscious body fell into a brightly lit rift.

  The rift closed.

  There, he thought in satisfaction. She is safe in Sanctuary. For now…

  His mind flipped through catalogues of prepared spells, discarding the ones that required his staff, and then he turned to face his adversaries.

  Fire blazed from his fingers and lightning blazed from his eyes, and he slew many demons.

  But the little elf girl, his descendent, channeled the power of the Underworld, backed by the malice of five troglodyte tower-mothers.

  * * *

  Tal Harun fell on that day, if day it could be called in Dis. Even without his staff, there in the heart of darkness he destroyed hosts of Dis’s armies before he fell to her power.

  Naiadne thrust her fingers into the wizard’s chest and channeled all her Dark might through his body. He shuddered, and the light in his eyes died. His body withered and crumbled, and she tossed it over the Abyss’s edge to be devoured in Malahkma’s singularity.

  Naiadne smiled as the hellhounds and terror knights moved quietly around her in deference. All she needed to do was find this last remaining sorceress, and Dis would be hers.

  30 - Choices

  Father and daughter stood side by side in Castle Windbowl’s crypts as they watched Queen Aiella’s body lying in the stone coffin. They stood back away from the crowd of people against the cold stone wall beneath a burning sconce. The Church’s priest said the final rites, invoking both Athra as the Lady of Civilization and Lorum as the God of Magic and Learning. Aiella had been a beloved ruler, as much as the old Duke Montevin had been.

  “I’m sad,” Fernwalker said.

  Odoune put his arm around her. “I know, my heart,” he affirmed. “I am too.”

  “Not just for her,” Fernwalker replied. She felt sad all the time, and this was only one more thing that added to a sad world. “For Seredith too,” she murmured. “She was Mom’s friend. I can’t believe she turned on everyone here.”

  Odoune regarded her for a moment. “I don’t understand it either,” he agreed. “Perhaps it was because she was unnatural. Perhaps the longer she lived, the greater the tension between her and the living world.”

  “Mom never held that against her.”

  Odoune sighed. “Aradma saw things most of us never will,” he said. “She saw the truth of people.” He frowned. “She saw the truth of Seredith. Maybe Seredith changed.”

  “She changed,” Fernwalker confirmed softly. “I saw the truth of her soul. She was not the Seredith of my youth. She’d grown detached.”

  Odoune nodded. “You have your mother’s sight.”

  “I hear a life’s music,” she said, “just as I can evoke it.” She fidgeted with her plant-grown sleeves and tugged a flower out of the hem, adding one more fray to the edge of her gown. “I killed her.”

  “I wonder… she’s cheated death once already…” Odoune’s voice trailed off.

  The priest finished his benediction. Captain Kaern and his honor guard pushed the stone lid closed. Fernwalker watched the slab slide over to finally cover the dead queen’s face. The last thing she saw was the queen’s crown, buried with her, it’s golden citrine glinting in the torchlight.

  Now covered, the sarcophagus’s carved likeness of the resting queen was how Aiella would be remembered. They had buried her next to the statue of Duke Montevin, whose body they had not been able to bury—he had been infected with the vampire contagion in years past, and burned.

  Captain Kaern had insisted on burning Seredith’s body too. She was no vampire, but no one trusted the revenant’s magic. Seredith’s ashes had been scattered from her tower window, thrown into the wind over Wet Fields.

  And yet Odoune’s thoughtful words haunted Fernwalker. She never knew her dad to have a baseless hunch.

  * * *

  Tiberan and Keira sat together in the Faerieholm cave. Their sons played in the warm, bubbling spring pool, fascinated at the idea of being able to take their clothes off in the harsh April cold. They frolicked with the other Glavlunder children and splashed each other, and Glavlunder adults joined them as well, also bathing nude. Tiberan smiled at these moments of joy shared throughout the tribe, happy his children were part of it.

  Those who had finished with the water sat under thick blankets around a fire, drying off with faerie witchcraft and the warmth of each other’s company. They shared food and drink and relaxed in the ambient heat, feeling free from the winter furs they had worn for many months.

  Tiberan sat together with Keira off to the side, still in their furs. They had not yet joined the frivolity, but instead knelt in front of each other with the half-burnt magic candle set on the ground between them. He rubbed his face once, trying to douse his drowsiness. He had not slept well. The dreams had returned, more intensely, and even Keira’s sleeping embrace was starting to no longer be enough to stave them off.

  Tiberan watched Keira light the candle and wait for the tiny flicker to catch and find its balance. The flame stabilized and cast a pink glow about them.

  The image of Tallindra appeared. “Keira, Tiberan!” she said warmly when the magical link was established. Despite her tone, the familiar worried look creased her brow. “How are you?”

  “Very well,” Keira said, smiling. “It’s been a many years. Our sons are growing.”

  “Sons?” Tallindra asked. “You had another!” She smiled.

  Keira beamed. “And you?”

  Tallindra sighed. “My people have made an absolute mess of it. The stalemate in Artalon hasn’t changed. If only Tindron hadn’t destroyed that damned tower. We should be working with the Hammerfoldians and the dwarves of Farstkeld against Athra’s invasion. Instead, we’re beset on all sides, all factions.” She shook her head in frustration. “My people have always been too arrogant, too unable to work with other races.” She glanced meaningfully at Tiberan’s horns. “But I suspect you didn’t contact me to hear about problems in the south.”

  “No,” Tiberan said. From what he had heard about the sidhe through Tallindra, he realized she was exceptional for her people in her ability to see other points of view. He was glad he’d never sought out a living sidhe community—he wondered if he too might have been caught up in their sense of superiority. “There is something that troubles me,” he began. “We’ve reclaimed our ancient home of Faerieholm—”

  “Our,” Tallindra commented. “You speak as one of them.”

  “I am one of them,” he inclined his head. Well, she was still sidhe after all.

  She nodded. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect. Please, continue.”

  “Troglodytes had taken it from us after we secured the dragon eggs,” he told her. “We’ve returned, and shortly into the fighting—too soon, I fear—they withdrew. They came to the surface with purpose, and they left guided by purpose. I suspect we have not seen the last of them.”

  “What d
o you mean?” the elven woman asked. Her face flickered for a moment in the fire and then stabilized.

  “Think on whom they used to serve,” Tiberan stated. “I think they prepare to move on Artalon. From what you’ve said, everyone else has.”

  Tallindra’s image remained silent, considering his words. Then: “If that’s the case, we’re doomed if we’re fighting ourselves. I must try to unite the factions.”

  Tiberan glanced at Keira for a moment and then turned back to the flame. “There is someone you might try contacting,” he said. “Surely Kaldor and Aradma are there with the Hammerfoldians. They will see the wisdom in uniting.” Actually, Tiberan now thought, if they’re fighting, why is it the sidhe, and not Kaldor and Aradma, who control Artalon?

  There was a long pause in the flame. Tiberan noticed that Keira was staring at him too. He knew she still feared what might happen if he and Aradma met once more. She had nothing to worry about. Aradma had moved on, and so had he. Tiberan would never betray his love for Keira.

  “I know those names,” Tallindra finally said, “but neither of them have been seen in this war.”

  Tiberan frowned. Odd.

  “My sources tell me that both of them are dead,” Tallindra added. “I don’t know much beyond that.”

  Tiberan felt as if a log had slammed against the gut. He coughed and exhaled. “Dead?” he asked incredulously.

  Keira seemed shaken as well. Despite her fear that she might lose Tiberan, she had still held affection for Aradma.

  “I’m sorry,” Tallindra said. “They said you knew them.”

  “Just Aradma,” Tiberan murmured absently.

  “I’ll take my leave,” Tallindra stated. “I should get to work with the factions. Before I go, how are the dragons?”

  Tiberan pulled his attention back to the conversation. “Growing,” he responded. “They will be ready when the troglodytes return. If you need us, contact me.”

  Tallindra nodded. “I will,” she promised, “but not before there is peace between the races. They must not know about the dragons while they are fighting each other.”