by Mark Tyson
Naneden blocked the blackfire with a shield of essence, but his robes still caught on fire. He patted them out while twirling around. He, too, unleashed blackfire back at Gondrial. Dorenn watched helplessly as Gondrial took the full force of the hit. He started to draw in essence to help him, but Lady Shey grabbed his arm.
“It’s not your fight. Neither man would ever forgive your interference. This fight has been coming for a long, long time. Gondrial can shield himself the same as I did.”
Dorenn backed down. “What if Gondrial loses?”
Shey smiled wickedly. “Then we both have a reason to join the fight.”
Gondrial and Naneden stalked each other around in a circle, neither taking his eyes off the other.
“You evil bastard. You are so self-destructively committed to just being mad and evil that you are blind. How pathetic is that? How do you sustain your mental function for more than a few weeks?” Gondrial taunted.
“You are a simpleton, my old friend. Your assessment of me shows both a lack of maturity and a lack of imagination. Any child could say I am melodramatic, stupid, and committed to being evil for the sake of being evil. You must be capable of delving deeper to truly understand. Clearly, you are not.”
“Who would want to delve deeper?” Gondrial said as he unleashed another round of blackfire. The walls of the throne room creaked as the attack struck Naneden despite his desperate attempt to avoid the blast.
“I was never the architect of this war, Gondrial. I simply played my role.”
“What do you want, Naneden? Forgiveness?”
Naneden had backtracked behind a pillar after the last blast and rounded behind Gondrial. “Not from you!” He hit Gondrial at point blank with another blast, and Gondrial went down. Naneden went in for the kill.
Dorenn kissed Lady Shey’s forehead so he could whisper to her. “He will just have to never forgive me, then.” He pushed Lady Shey’s arms back before she could grab him, and he drew in so much essence that it made the building quake and Naneden spin from his attack. Dorenn unleased torrents of white hot flame, one after the other, at the stunned Naneden.
Naneden tried to use blackfire to offset the attack and failed as Dorenn’s white fire extinguished Naneden’s blackfire on impact. Gondrial pulled himself up and rebounded from Naneden’s attack in time to throw a bolt of fire at the unprepared Naneden. The madman burned in white-hot heat too quickly to scream. The backlash of being so close to the attack sent Gondrial cascading backward on fire. Dorenn yanked down one of the tapestries and tossed it over Gondrial to put out the flame.
Lady Shey went to him and removed the tapestry. She began to use dragon magic to heal him.
Gondrial weakly gestured for Dorenn to come closer so he could hear him. When he leaned down close enough, Gondrial grabbed his tunic. “You bloody showoff,” he said.
“I wasn’t trying to show off, my friend. I was trying to save your life.”
Gondrial let go of his tunic and leaned back. “I had him.”
Dorenn looked at Lady Shey, and he saw a tear roll down her cheek. “My lady?”
She wiped the tear from her face. “I’ll be all right. Something evil had ahold of him. He is free now.”
Gondrial, obviously feeling better now, reached up and kissed Lady Shey hard on the lips. She pushed him back down. “Now you want to make a move! Now!” She pushed him away and went running to Morgoran.
“It seemed like the right time,” he said to Dorenn.
“Not so much, Gondrial. You did just help kill her husband.”
“What? Come on! They have not been husband and wife for a thousand seasons!”
Ianthill and Rennon came running from the corridor into the throne room. “He wasn’t lying. The portal is destroyed.” Ianthill saw the dead Drasmyd Duil and no Naneden. “Where did he go?”
Morgoran was still in an embrace with Lady Shey. He pushed her back and looked in her eyes. “Will you be all right?” She nodded. “Good. Ianthill, get the scepter, and Dorenn, you get that parchment and quill from your bag. We need to write down that spell.”
“What about the dragons coming?” Shey asked.
“There is a secret tunnel from the palace to the White Tower. Only Enowene and I know about it. It’s how she used to smuggle spies through the palace. We can use it to escape. The dragons can destroy whatever they want.”
Dorenn rummaged through his pack. “I have the parchment and quill.”
“Quickly, we have to get that spell,” Morgoran said as they moved to where Ianthill and Rennon were finishing putting the scepter and gem together. Morgoran took the scepter and held it up to the wall. A whispered spell and the gem glowed blue, illuminating the spell on the throne room wall. Dorenn copied it down exactly. When he was finished, he handed it to Morgoran, who checked it against the original. “All right, I will lead us through the tunnel now.”
A crash behind them and fire billowing in through the broken plate glass window told them the dragons had arrived. Dorenn stopped to look at the fire coming through the window.
“Come on, Dorenn,” Gondrial said. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at this throne room one last time. In a few moments, it will be gone forever.” He followed Gondrial into a dark corridor illuminated dimly by the gem in the scepter Morgoran carried. “This way, hurry!” Dorenn heard Gondrial say.
Fayne snuggled close to Vesperin, trying to ward off the cold. “I’m not so sure we are doing the right thing anymore,” she said.
“How can you say that? Loracia came to us last night and proved to us we were being deceived without a doubt. Morgoran had also gone after Dorenn, trying to stop him from fulfilling the will of his god, Fawlsbane Vex. There is no reason to believe the same thing isn’t happening to me now.”
“Me?”
“Well, us. You know what I meant.”
Jot and Aela followed the tunnel to the tomb of the Oracle where Vesperin and Fayne were huddled in a corner just before the entrance to the tomb. The tunnel entrance was hidden from the world above, but Loracia had shown Vesperin the way. The ground above, where the entrance was located, appeared as flat and desolate as the rest of the Sacred Land. Jot examined the door to the tomb and then saw Vesperin and Fayne.
“There you are. Are you ready to cleanse the Sacred Land in the name of Loracia?”
“It will be to her glory,” Vesperin said. “Loracia will triumph where all others have failed.”
Jot took out a piece of parchment, and so did Vesperin.
“We need to all recite the spell for it to open the tomb,” Jot said.
Together they recited the spell, and as they did, white light swirled around them and through the doorway. At last, the spell was read and the door began to move. It opened up to a fairly good-sized room with a single sarcophagus at the center and nothing else, not even an inscription on the walls. They all walked to the sarcophagus. It was plain stone, no writings, no carvings.
“Before we open it,” Vesperin said, “what is the first principle of Loracia, Jot?”
Jot stared at him in disbelief. “You want to quote the oaths of Loracia now?”
“You do not dress like a cleric of Loracia, you do not act like a cleric of Loracia, yet you would have me believe that you are of Loracia and that opening this sarcophagus and bringing back the Oracle will be the glory and crowning achievement. I want to make sure you are who you say before I help restore a life long ago extinguished.”
“The first principle is all life is precious, all life is sacred. Restoration of life is only for the divine.” He put one hand on the sarcophagus. “We are unworthy, I know. That’s why the Oracle can only be brought back by Loracia’s will, right?”
Vesperin watched Jot for a long moment. “I feel something is not quite right here. I won’t do this until I talk to Loracia again for guidance.” He heard Fayne breathe a sigh of relief. She wanted to consult with Loracia one last time as well.
Jot took out a smoking pipe and b
egan to stuff it with tabac.
“I don’t think this is an appropriate time for that,” Vesperin said.
Jot lit the pipe. “If we are not going to finish the ritual, I thought I might have a smoke. Why don’t you join me? Here.” He handed Vesperin a pipe. Vesperin had not smoked a pipe but once in his life, but he took the pipe and tabac. A few moments later and he, too, was smoking. Fayne and Aela watched with euphoric smiles. “Now, what were you saying about the will of Loracia?” Jot asked.
“It is the will of Loracia to cleanse the Sacred Land. I believe that was what I was saying.’ Vesperin felt a nagging at the back of his head, but suddenly, everything was clear. He knew what he needed to do, so he ignored the feeling of danger.
They each went to a different corner of the sarcophagus and placed their hands on the lid. It glowed with an unearthly light as it lifted into the air. They let go of the lid, and it floated to the ground. Inside the sarcophagus was not a body but a small platform with an idol of a dragon sitting on top of it. Each one of them extended their forefinger and touched the idol. The entire room descended straight downward into an enormous cavern. They traveled down until they stopped at ground level before a great gold-scaled dragon.
“Behold,” Jot said, “the great Golvashala, Oracle of the Realm.”
Something whispered inside Vesperin’s head that if they resurrected the dragon, they would no longer be needed. After the dragon was alive again, he and Fayne would be killed. Vesperin, I am your true goddess. You have a strong will. Fight!
He saw Jot and Aela each produce a staff similar to his and Fayne’s. Fayne also produced her staff. Vesperin looked down to see he already had his in his hands.
“It’s time, brother and sisters,” Jot said. “It’s time for Loracia’s glory.” He held his staff out, and Aela and Fayne did the same. Vesperin looked at his staff and abruptly pointed it at Jot and let loose a bolt of pure light. Jot recoiled from it and hissed. When he recovered, his face had changed into a hideous, malformed mess. He looked like part man, part ram. Fayne snapped out of her trance and fired a similar bolt of light at Aela before the other could fully react. Aela also recoiled and showed her true face, the face of a woman but with curved ram’s horns. Immediately after Fayne revealed Aela, Vesperin put up a shield of light, anticipating an attack. It came swiftly. Black needles punctured the shield and struck him and Fayne. Vesperin let the useless shield drop and healed his wounds and Fayne’s. Fayne let down a wall of light on the two clerics of death, and they both dispelled it easily.
“We are too evenly matched. We need to separate them from their staves if we want to win this,” Vesperin told Fayne. She nodded.
Vesperin and Fayne began targeting their attacks directly at Jot’s staff. As soon as their attack struck his staff, everyone was thrown back away from each other.
Vesperin picked himself up and then helped Fayne up. “One staff cannot destroy the other.”
They positioned themselves for another attack when they were surprised to see a tall figure decend to the platform from above. He simply floated down.
“I have seen enough!” the man said. “Now that you are all here, I don’t need your free will.” He held up yet another staff and projected four beams of light, one for each cleric. The beam of light grabbed ahold of Vesperin and the rest with an iron grip. The man raised them up into the air and came forward, revealing his face. It was Toborne.
“I want to give you all one more chance before I force you to do my will. I will speak with you one at a time.” He let Jot and Aela fall to the side, but he kept them in a suspended state. He walked to Vesperin. “I know you have been told that I am evil and that I cannot be trusted, but remember, I have the Silver Drake and she is working with me. We need to raise Golvashala so that I can use the power of the Silver Drake to destroy him once and for all. I need him fully recuperated to complete my goals. He has to be awakened so that I can know and stop all his machinations. I don’t have time to explain it all to you. Just suffice it to say I need him alive to destroy him.”
“Not a chance, evil-doer. Not an iota of a chance will I trust you,” Vesperin said.
Toborne nodded and left to talk to the other group. He came back after a few moments and raised them all into the air again. “Well, I really only need one of each of you.”
He began crushing Aela and Fayne’s entire bodies with his magic grip. “Resurrect Golvashala or your companions die.” He said to Vesperin and Jot.
Jot immediately started the ritual, but Vesperin did not. “I am so sorry, Fayne. I can’t do it.” His heart wrenched as he heard the screams of Fayne, but he held fast. He was determined to let Fayne die rather than let Toborne win. Fayne’s screams were agonizing.
Seeing that his tactic wasn’t going to work. Toborne dropped the spell on Fayne. Vesperin was relieved.
“I see,” Toborne said. “I had it backwards.” He magically grasped Vesperin and started to crush him. Before he was unable to speak, Vesperin tried to tell Fayne not to give in, to let him die. The crushing pain was unbearable, but he tried not to cry out. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he struggled against the spell. If he didn’t cry out, maybe Fayne would not give in. Then he reached the point where the grip was so tight he couldn’t scream. He was just about to pass out when the spell released. Fayne and Jot were performing the resurrection. He tried to cry out, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.
As soon as the ritual was completed, Fayne ran to Vesperin. “Forgive me, Vesperin, but I am not as strong as you. I couldn’t take it.”
“It’s all right, Fayne. We will have to find another way now, that’s all.” He looked to the platform. “Come on, help me get to the platform. We have to get out of here.”
Fayne and Vesperin limped to the platform as Toborne, Jot, and Aela watched Golvashala slowly animate back to life. As the platform raised to the tomb above, it looked as though Jot wanted to stop them. He pointed to them and Toborne dismissed him. He was no longer interested in what happened to Vesperin or Fayne.
“I made a terrible mistake, Fayne. I was so sure that was Loracia talking to us. We should have stayed with Ianthill and the others.”
“We have to get far from here, if we can. There is no time to worry about what has already passed.”
They left the tomb and traveled through the tunnel and out onto the Sacred Land where they were surrounded by a horde of black and red dragons. Toborne had brought along a dragon army. Vesperin kissed Fayne firmly on the lips. “I should have gotten to know you better.”
“At least I die knowing that you wanted me,” Fayne said.
A woman with dark hair and sapphire blue eyes appeared before them. She looked remarkably like Lady Shey. She palmed a stone into Vesperin’s hand and winked at him. “The White Tower,” she whispered, and Vesperin and Fayne found themselves outside the White Tower in Old Symbor. Vesperin opened his hand. On his palm was a good-sized silver stone, Sylvalora’s personal Lora Daine.
Chapter 13: Lord of Dragons
Bhavare made his way up the crumbling stone stairway. The entrance to the black city was rumored to be hidden within the Citadel of the Moon, an ancient Ishrakian military academy devoted to the art of combat. In days of old, one had to prove his worth by climbing the mountain to find the stairway to the grounds. Bhavare was used to climbing mountains. He was raised in the highlands of Scarovia, at the base of the Jagged Mountains, in a village called Witchmoor. Climbing the Mountains of Madness came naturally to him, and he found them a distant second in difficulty to the mountains of his youth. He also suspected that his expertise allowed him to survive the harsh climate where others might falter, get lost, or even die.
His long journey from the fields of the Sacred Land to the black city was finally coming to an end. He had left his mistress Kimala to travel with her daughter, Fayne, in pursuit of the archer, Trendan, with great reluctance, but he would never go against the wishes of his mistress.
He approached th
e top of the decaying stairs with trepidation. His last encounter with Dravenclaw was tumultuous. The great black dragon had eaten Bhavare’s brother Braful and threatened to eat him as well. The last he saw of the dragon was when the beast left him and his mistress within walking distance of Brightonhold Keep. He hoped the dragon remembered him and his promise not to harm him, although he was not sure that promise held indefinitely.
Bhavare entered the citadel and found a stone dais with what looked to be a Lora Daine embedded on a stone pedestal at the center. He walked up to the stone and put his hand on it. When he looked up, he was inside the black city of Kragodor. Two dragons disguised as men took him to the throne room where Dravenclaw waited. The enormous dragon lay sprawled out before a normal-sized throne. When he spotted the hapless visitor, he transformed into the semblance of a man. He was tall and dark, with olive skin and black eyes. He wore a black tunic and trousers.
“Have you brought news from the witch?” he bellowed.
“I have, Your Grace.”
“Well, out with it, then.”
“My mistress wishes to report that the treacherous Toborne is still stealing your precious dragon eggs for his experiments. She wishes for you to know that he is creating an army of Dramyds and Drasmyd Duil.”
The dragon leaned forward. “I know all of this. We are allied. He will make our kind the dominant species of dragon. Whatever alliance we pretend to have with the likes of men will be a ruse. Your kind will fall in the end by our talons. No alliance will be honored when the blessed Oracle returns to Symboria.
Bhavare, stunned by this proclamation, turned to run. He must warn Kimala of the return of the Oracle. The dragon leader beat him to the door, now back as the terrible dragon he was, and he burned Bhavare alive with his dragon’s fire.
As soon as they exited the tunnel from the palace in Old Symbor into the White Tower, Dorenn asked Bren for Tatrice’s Lora Daine.
