One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  “Enough!” called Delvion.

  Briet got to his feet and stood back, surveying his handy work. A familiar grin returned to the Quagman’s face.

  It was too painful for Magnus to breathe so he stopped and waited as the healing heat took over his body, searing through him and attacking his wounds. Magnus grasped the hilt of Briet’s sword. It was hot and getting hotter. He peered down as the sword began to glow red. Briet stepped away, watching in awe as the blade glowed brighter and brighter, turning brilliant amber before igniting and crumbling to molten ash that fell to the ground.

  Magnus gasped as his breath returned and his heart pumped hard and fast. He stood and looked at Briet, knowing his long-kept secret was no longer.

  “What are you?” Briet asked, recoiling, a look of incredulity across his face. Magnus reclaimed the fire-sword, pointing it at Briet. He let all his fear and rage turn to heat that coursed through his body and funnelled into his left arm. Magnus glanced at his clenched fist. As the heat peaked, small flames oozed from the pores in his skin. They quickly grew, merged, and formed an eddy of flames that swirled around his fist and up his forearm. The flames picked up speed, spiralling down the length of the sword and burst out toward Briet, engulfing him in flames. The large Quagman screamed and ran to and fro in abject madness. The flames seemed to have a mind of their own, dancing around Briet’s body until eventually, the screams ceased and he fell to the ground—charred and smouldering.

  Briet was dead.

  SORCERER

  The first reaction to Magnus’s fire display came from the crowd. A woman let out a blood-curdling scream that tore through the silence, giving rise to a chorus of similar responses. Some of the crowd tried to flee but most remained frozen and wide-eyed.

  The flames around Magnus’s arm dispersed. He backed away from Briet’s corpse and turned to the main entrance, where Crugion stood, staring in shock. Magnus lifted his gaze to the southern tower. Delvion was on his feet, staring down at Magnus, shaking in anger. Magnus knew retribution would come swiftly.

  A dreadful screech from behind made Magnus twist his body about. He caught a glimpse of a wyvern just as it landed, knocking him flat on his back. The fire-sword slipped from his grasp and clattered away out of reach. The wyvern came over to him as if walking on all fours with its spiked wing tips clattering across the hard ground.

  Magnus reached for one of the blades hidden in his grieves and pulled at it. It was stuck. He reached out an arm, trying to muster a ball of fire, but quickly retreated when the wyvern snapped at it. It screamed directly at Magnus. Heat and saliva whipped at his face and the smell of its breath almost made him pass out. Then the mental attack came, just as it did when he fended off the wyvern that attacked Lucas.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  The wyvern was trying to tear his mind to pieces with its barbarous thoughts. Magnus looked into the wyvern’s sickly yellow eyes. Its pupils shifted furiously. Then the heat came, just as it did to heal his wounds, only it bathed his mind, holding the wyvern’s pounding thoughts at bay. The black beast’s eyes dilated furiously and Magnus got the upper hand, forcing his way into the knotted, twisted depths of the wyvern’s mind. It was pure hatred. There was not a hint of rationality to reason with. But then, as quick as a flash, a change seemed to come out of nowhere and the wyvern projected absolute terror. Magnus pulled his mind free, not wanting to be a part of it. A moment later the wyvern slumped to the ground—dead.

  Magnus shoved the beast’s leathery head off his leg and saw in the sun the silhouette of someone standing on the wyvern’s back. Twisting his head to the side he saw who it was…

  “Catanya?”

  Catanya pulled her lance from the base of the dead wyvern’s skull.

  “Aye.” She jumped to the ground and took Magnus’s hand, pulling him to his feet. Without thinking he gave her a firm kiss. Catanya seemed to choke on it, a surprised expression on her face.

  Magnus drank in the vision of her. Unlike the robed priest she was last night, Catanya was dressed in a Ferustir suit that revealed her lithe, muscular body. He was speechless.

  Catanya looked herself over, frowning, then smirked at Magnus. “You scared me half to death before,” she said. “I thought that Quagman had killed you.”

  “Briet—because of him I may not get the chance to swear fealty to Delvion.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “It crossed my mind.” Magnus thought of his father and Ganister.

  More screams from the stadium made them both look about. Several more wyverns had landed among the crowd, flinging bodies out of their way as they crawled down through the rows of abandoned seats toward the arena. Their eyes were locked on Magnus.

  “How did you get in here?” Magnus asked Catanya, still looking at the wyverns, wondering which would approach first, yet still astounded Catanya was in the arena.

  “People were coming into the city in droves.” She spoke frantically. “All talking about the “Mighty Balgur” and the battle you were to fight.” Magnus looked at her. “And so I just walked back in—blending with the crowd. Not a question was asked.”

  “You’re amazing,” Magnus said.

  “Where’s Delvion?” Catanya asked, stepping back toward the centre of the arena.

  They both looked up to the heights of the arena. Delvion was gone. Magnus turned to Crugion who was shouting at one of the guards near the entrance of the armoury. The guard opened the door and two men were shoved out into the arena. They both stumbled and caught their footing. They were not Quagmen, wore no armour and their beards and hair were as dishevelled as Magnus’s only greyer. They each carried a sword and shield from the dismal armoury selection. The two men walked tentatively, shielding their faces from the morning sun, seemingly at a loss as to why they were there. Magnus would never have recognised them were it not for the remnants of familiar clothing they were wearing when last he saw them.

  Father! Ganister! Forgetting the wyverns, Magnus ran to them. Both men turned toward him and readied their swords for an impending attack. Magnus stopped short. “Father!”

  Bonstaph froze and stared at his son. Ganister moved around Magnus, still ready to fight.

  “Magnus?” Bonstaph said. “Magnus, is that you?”

  Ganister lowered his sword and shield, shaking his head. “No, it cannot be.”

  “Father—it’s me!”

  Bonstaph stared in disbelief and Ganister wore a broad smile. Bonstaph reached Magnus and they embraced. Magnus held his father tight through the convulsions of his father’s tears, as though all problems of the moment could vanish with that one embrace.

  “My son… my son…” Bonstaph sobbed as he held Magnus.

  Ganister came behind Magnus and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him excitedly,

  “Magnus!” Catanya shouted, appearing at his side.

  The three wyverns leapt into the arena, pushing two guards at the perimeter aside. The rest of the guards shifted about aimlessly, unsure what to do in the confusion. The wyverns however, were still focussed on Magnus and his accomplices. The smallest of the three made a lunge for them. Catanya skipped toward it, twisting alongside the black creature and avoiding a strike of its barbed tail. Ganister followed her, shouting at the wyvern to distract it, giving Catanya the chance to sink her lance deep into its neck. The creature wailed in pain.

  Two Quagmen appeared from behind the wounded wyvern and intercepted Ganister before he reached Catanya.

  “No!” Magnus shouted. He knew Ganister was a powerful man but his enslavement had worn him—or so Magnus thought.

  Ganister charged hard and fast as the Quagmen raised their swords. Magnus and Bonstaph both ran to join him but they were still a distance away when the Quag swords fell upon him. One splintered Ganister’s sword to pieces, the other shattered his shield in two. Ganister fell to his knees as the Quagman came at him again.

  Magnus was twenty paces out. In his left hand he gripped the fire-sword, his r
ight hand cast out before him. Instinctively, a jolt of fire leapt from the palm of his hand, striking the nearest Quagman in the chest. His burnt carcass launched backward across the stone floor of the arena, where it landed beside Briet’s.

  Magnus continued forward, flames still dancing around his hand. The second Quagman turned from Ganister to Magnus. Bonstaph was upon him before Magnus and attacked him with all his resolve.

  Magnus had never seen his father fight before, but even with his dull sword he pummelled the bewildered Quagman until he fell. His attack was relentless, his swordsmanship unforgotten. Ganister retrieved the burnt Quagman’s swords and threw one to Bonstaph, who caught it and finished off the second Quagman.

  Magnus ran to Catanya, who withdrew her lance from the now-dead wyvern. Together they regrouped with Bonstaph and Ganister, standing with their backs to one another. The two remaining wyverns paced about with their backs arched, cautious after seeing their brethren slain by a Ferustir. Some of the perimeter guards were fleeing and those remaining were as apprehensive as the wyverns.

  With a moment’s reprieve, Bonstaph took the opportunity to talk. “Magnus. How in all of Allumbreve did this happen?”

  “It’s the longest of stories, Father!”

  “It is beyond your call to Knighthood—that much I know!” Ganister laughed.

  “I’m no Knight of Allumbreve, father,” Magnus said.

  “No,” Bonstaph replied. “You are far more than that!”

  “So you know then why we are here?” Catanya said. “You know why Magnus must survive this?”

  “Aye, young priest. But I see no need for any of us to die this day,” Ganister said.

  “If we are to die it will not be to this wretched lot, in this wretched place,” Bonstaph added.

  “There is more to fear than Quagmen and their beasts,” Catanya countered.

  Magnus did not know what she was talking about, but before he had a chance to ask, the main gates groaned and the chains started to move, opening them once more. Magnus swallowed hard. There was something scratching and pounding at the door from the far side—some impatient beast trying to get in. A dreadful screeching sound, all too familiar to Magnus, came from beyond it.

  “What darkness lurks behind those doors?” Bonstaph asked.

  The gates had just opened enough for Delvion’s immense wyvern to push its head through. It shouldered the door, tearing it from its iron hinges. Behind Delvion sat a hooded companion.

  “Kill them!” Delvion commanded the perimeter guards with ferocity in his voice. “Bring this heinous man before me,” Delvion screamed, pointing at Magnus. “I want him dead! I want his blood!”

  The guards regrouped and moved toward Magnus and his companions.

  Magnus turned a hand upright and allowed a ball of flame to form in his palm. He threw it at Delvion, who watched him, unperturbed by the threat. Moments before it hit him, the cloaked man behind him raised an arm, sending forth a syrupy cloud of black matter that absorbed the flames, protecting Delvion.

  A sorcerer? Magnus wondered.

  Delvion held firmly to the wyvern’s leash and commanded it to move forward. His face held a look of absolute fury. The guards surrounded Magnus, Catanya, Bonstaph and Ganister, none of whom took their eyes off Delvion, the most deadly of his company.

  I must kill Delvion… no matter what happens, Magnus promised himself.

  He pointed his sword toward several guards closest to him. Flames started to spin about his hand. Noticing this, the guards stopped in their tracks. Further back, a pair of dark robed figures dropped into the arena from the crowd above. They advanced toward them, removed their robes and drew lances, igniting them as Catanya had. More priests! Magnus felt relieved at their presence.

  The two Ferustirs reached the nearest guards and attacked with more skill than Magnus ever knew possible. Their feet hardly touched the ground as they spun and twirled their lances, forcing the ring of guards to break. Magnus stood beside his father and put the fire-sword to good use again, slaying a guard who came too close.

  The priests continued to slay man after man and soon stood beside Magnus and his father.

  “Austagia!” Bonstaph shouted to one of the priests. Recognising the name, Magnus turned to look at the priest whom he had hated so much in the days after losing Catanya to the priesthood. The tall priest greeted Bonstaph with a nod and looked at Magnus, nodding to him also. Magnus looked to the other priest and saw it was a woman with hair and outfit similar to Catanya’s.

  Magnus caught sight of Catanya who, with Ganister’s help, was dealing with two more guards with as much efficiency as the other priests. Her attention however, seemed focussed on the other two priests. Once finished with the guards, Catanya stopped to confront Austagia.

  “Austagia… Jael… What are your intentions?” she demanded.

  “We come before the storm, Semsame. We must get him out of Ba’rrat immediately.” Austagia pointed at Magnus.

  “You are here to support us?” Catanya demanded.

  Magnus wondered why Catanya questioned her uncle’s objectives. Austagia saw Magnus watching and spoke gently to his mind.

  “You carry the blood of fire. We are with you, not against you.” Magnus could feel the priest’s conflicting thoughts and worry over their predicament. Magnus looked to the priestess beside him, whom Catanya had called Jael. She eyed him with equal curiosity.

  Suddenly, an ear splitting roar echoed around the arena and shook the ground beneath their feet. That was no wyvern, Magnus thought. A large fire dragon, its wings extended to their full span, landed on the highest precipice of the arena’s northern grandstand. A second dragon landed upon the western tower and a third to the east. Each in turn announced their arrival with equally terrifying roars. Each carried a priest upon its back. Magnus caught his breath. The crowd was hysterical, fleeing in every direction. Some simply fell to their knees in fear.

  The first dragon to arrive leapt from its tower into the arena and landed heavily, sending splinters of granite spinning across the floor. It released a torrent of flames that incinerated half the remaining guards on the arena’s floor. Those left stopped their attack and fled for the main gates.

  The two smaller wyverns sprang at the dragon. A brawl ensued and all who remained in the arena stopped to watch as the three beasts tumbled over the ground violently. Magnus cringed at the sound of bones breaking under the clench of powerful dragon jaws and the screech of wyvern claws against the dragon’s armour-plated scales.

  The wyverns were cunning and worked together to try to best the dragon. As one of them pulled free of the scramble, it paced around directly in front of Magnus—its attention solely on the dragon. Magnus loosened one of the blades from his grieves and threw it at the wyvern’s head, where it sank into its jaw. The black beast reeled away and screamed, alerting the dragon to its whereabouts. Turning from the other wyvern it blew a jet of flames over the injured beast, scalding its leathery skin.

  Seizing the opportunity, one of the priests ran at the injured wyvern. Magnus saw it was Jael. She jumped upon the wyvern’s back and plunged her lance into the base of its thick neck. Magnus was awestruck by her tenacity. She did not stop until the wyvern sank to the ground, dead. Meanwhile, the dragon continued its battle with the other wyvern as the priest who rode it alighted, walking toward Jael with his lance drawn. To Magnus’s surprise, Jael reignited her lance and stood her ground, apparently waiting for her kin to attack.

  Magnus suddenly felt a firm grip upon his right upper arm. He turned—it was his father.

  “Let’s take advantage of this chaos, Magnus. We can escape this place.” Ganister was with him, keen to make a move. Catanya however, was not. She ran to support the other priestess.

  “Catanya!” Magnus shouted. She could not hear him over the screaming chaos that had consumed the arena. The crowd were reduced to half their numbers, wailing and shouting as they toppled over one another in their attempts to escape.

&n
bsp; The arena’s floor held the remains of dead guards, Quagmen and burning piles of rubble. It was all but consumed with smoke. As the dragon in the arena finished off the second wyvern, tearing it limb from limb, Catanya and Jael were arguing with the newly arrived priest. Looking like they were about to fight, the hulking black beast carrying Delvion and the sorcerer lunged through the smoke screen, grabbing the rogue priest and running him through with its enormous fangs, killing him. Delvion then instructed the wyvern to attack the priest’s dragon while he and the sorcerer leapt from its back and made their way toward Magnus.

  “Come, Magnus,” Bonstaph insisted.

  “We have to kill Delvion,” Magnus insisted. “We have to end this.”

  Delvion’s wyvern threw itself at the fire dragon. They collided with a thud that sent shock waves across the arena, twisting and cracking the stone ground. A ghastly gnashing of teeth and scales commenced. The two other fire dragons glided into the arena to join in the conflict, their priest-riders leaping free to join the fight.

  Is this the storm Austagia spoke of? Catanya said there was more to fear than Quagmen…

  Three more wyverns entered the arena and joined the fight of beasts. Magnus however, was more concerned with Delvion and his accomplice.

  Turning his head quickly to take stock of those who were still present, Magnus saw Austagia moving in to confront the other two priests. Jael turned and stared briefly at Magnus with intense eyes before continuing on to support Austagia. Catanya was coming around to support Magnus and they stood once again with Bonstaph and Ganister. From the main gates, Crugion came running to support his father. To Delvion’s other side was the cloaked sorcerer.

  “Who is that?” Bonstaph asked.

  “You did not see? It is a sorcerer,” Ganister warned.

  The sight of Delvion with his two companions was all-too-familiar to Magnus. “It cannot be,” Magnus spoke aloud. It cannot be Lucas.

  “What is it Magnus?” Catanya asked.

  “The sorcerer, it cannot be him.”