“All right,” Kazen answered from the shadows, “close the shadowgate and surrender yourself! That should ease my suffering well enough!”
Scull chuckled. “I must admit, of all your reincarnations, I think I like this one the best. This day does not have to end in your death. After all, your fight was with Gregore. You and I have no quarrel. You would find that my most loyal servants are richly rewarded.”
“There are none loyal to you. Even the most sordid men in your ranks would abandon you if not for the black water you have poisoned them with. You are alone in your madness.”
“Very well.” The dragon scowled bitterly. “If it is suffering you so desire, then I shall deliver it!”
Whipping his long tail over his shoulder, Scull shattered a row of statues, hurtling shards of rock and marble through the air, and crumbling the monuments to mounds of rubble and dust.
Caught across the chin by a jagged chunk of rock, Kazen huddled farther back behind a tall pedestal. He peered through the forest of statues at the immense dragon pacing impatiently just beyond the break of stone and marble. What kind of cruel fates would send a Flame Weaver to face a dragon? Still, he had to do something. If he could only escape from this room and find his way to the shadowgate, perhaps he could find a way to close it, give his friends a fighting chance.
“You have brought shame to your clan,” he hollered, trying desperately to buy himself time as he slinked his way nearer the only door in the room. “If there is any goodness left in your heart, you may be saddened to know that your king is dead!”
“Saddened?” Scull chortled. “The only thing that saddens me is that I was not there to witness the old fool’s dying breath myself.”
Kazen slumped against a golden pedestal, shaking his head. “It was you all along. You murdered your own brother! Traitor!”
“Traitor?” Scull scoffed indignantly. “I am no traitor! I am a revolutionary, rising up against an ancient monarchy long overdue for change! The dragons were once the most powerful and feared creatures to walk these lands! It was Valduron who forced us into seclusion! Instead of reveling in the great power we possessed, he feared it. Denying us the taste of flesh, and swearing all dragons to an oath of humble existence, he reduced us to librarians, logging the mundane history of this world. Hiding away, always watching, never doing, for centuries we have watched the world unfold without our influence. I ask you, what kind of existence is that for such noble creatures as dragons?”
“And what promise do you offer the dragons? Because of you the dragons are at war! By the end they will have killed each other off! You bring death to them all!”
“Not all. The strongest will survive. And I will offer them the same choice I offered you, death or servitude.”
“And then what?” Kazen asked, quietly slipping past another row of statues. “When the shadow crushes the last living thing, what will you have left to rule over? Even your dragons will waste away to nothing once the sun has been forgotten. You will be alone, king of a dead world.”
“For a time, perhaps.” Scull shrugged. “But what is time to a being who cannot die? Eventually, when the demons have finished gorging themselves, they will grow bored of this world and leave it. The sun will return to the sky, and the rain will fall. Life will find its way back. And when it does, I will be here to nurture it! It will be a glorious new world, where all living things bow down to one master!”
“You underestimate the mortals of the west.” Kazen stalled, clinging to the last row of statues nearest the door. “Even now, vast armies are mounting against you! The world will not sit idly by and watch you spread your darkness.”
“The world will do exactly what I will it to do!” Scull snarled, smashing down another sculpture with a swat of his claw. “Within the hour, the sea of shadow will pass over the Pale Mountains, and the lands beyond will fall as easily as all the others. I command the shadows and the demons that dwell within it! There is no living creature that can withstand my will! Even you, the great Flame Weaver, the mightiest of all mortals, lives only for my own amusement! Or did you really think you made it this far on your own?”
Crouching behind the marble likeness of a sandaled foot, Kazen tried to ignore Scull’s poisoned words and concentrate on his escape.
“That’s right,” Scull crooned. “I have watched your every move through the eyes of shadow. Did you think it was just your good fortune that you were able to travel so far over bare lands without being discovered? It was I who kept the demons at bay and allowed you passage to Rassadoth. I was a bit disappointed by how easily you were deceived by one of your own kind, but I must admit, I was most impressed by your diligence once that whole mess had been sorted out. I mean surviving those icy waters, and wallowing through human waste to gain entrance into the stronghold! I must give you credit for that, most men would have been far too proud to lower themselves to such degradation. But your quest has finally come to an end, and I find your company to be less than enthralling. So let us put an end to the days of the Flame Weaver, and bring forth the days of darkness and eternal life!”
Peeking out from the shadows, Kazen watched curiously as Scull retreated gleefully to the far corner of the room and returned with something clutched between his scaly claws.
“Come, Flame Weaver!” Scull chuckled darkly, raising the thing proudly over his head. “Behold the power I hold over you without using even a whisper of magic or a puff of dragonfire!” With a casual flick of his talon, he tossed the limp thing through the air.
Smacking into the base of a shattered statue, the strange thing slid to the ground in a crumpled heap. Peering over the rubble, Kazen could not tell at first what it was he was looking at. Keeping a cautious eye on Scull, he tiptoed through the shadows, nearing closer until finally he saw the sheen of bloodied flesh. Choking back a gasp, he staggered forward, weaving through the maze of statues, muttering and pleading under his trembling breath. Beneath the glow of firelight, the form began to take shape. A deafening ringing filled Kazen’s ears as he saw the first glimpse of shredded black pants. His legs melting beneath him, he clutched his arms to his aching chest as he looked on a head of white hair, stained with blood.
“No!” he shrieked, forcing himself to his feet and barreling through the break of statues.
Stumbling to his knees, he groaned in disbelief as he looked down at Ilagon’s broken body. Bruised and battered, his bare chest was scarred by countless shallow gashes. His face had been marred by demon claws, and his eyes were black and swollen. A puddle of blood pooled under his still head, flowing from a deep wound hidden beneath his hair. Weak, crackling breaths were all that escaped his blistered lips.
His arms quaking at his sides, Kazen was hesitant to touch him, afraid that even the slightest touch could break his fragile body in two. “Ilagon,” he whispered, finally laying a gentle hand on his uncle’s head. “Please, open your eyes. I don’t know what to do.” Staring down at Ilagon’s motionless body, he at last broke down into sobs. “Forgive me,” he choked. “It was not supposed to be like this. I’m just . . . I’m just not strong enough.”
“Oh, enough already,” Scull grunted. “I thought seeing you being brought to your knees would be entertaining, but now you’re just embarrassing yourself.”
A growl of rage rumbled from Kazen’s throat as he slowly stood and turned to face the smug dragon. Fire burned in his chest, growing and seething with vengeful ire. His magic swelling, he knew he should temper his flame with his wizard song, but conscience and consequence were lost to fury.
“What’s this?” Scull chortled. “You’re not actually thinking of challenging me, are you?”
With a single potent word, which shook the walls as it passed through his tightened lips, Kazen unleashed a rage of fire. Arms stretched to his sides, his body trembling under the strain, a surge of flames passed through his body like wind through a tree. White and yellow flames engulfed the dragon, washing over his silver scales like a river over rocks. St
one blackened beneath the dragon’s clawed toes, and gray smoke rose from lapping flames until finally Kazen could sustain the assault no longer. Collapsing to the floor onto his hands and knees, he kept an angry snarl upon his face as he lifted his weary head.
Chapter 30
Silence gripped the vast hall while smoke billowed from the blackened heap that remained in the dragon’s stead. Statues stared on indifferently as Kazen staggered to his feet, wiping the sweat that dripped from his brow. His arms and legs tingled and throbbed, and his chest felt hollow and numb. Looking down at himself, he saw that his clothes had been almost completely burned away, with only a few shreds of cloth still clinging to his body. Pulling the sword from his back, he took a weak step toward the smoldering mass before him.
A rumbling chuckle rose from the ashes, and with a flash of silver the great dragon erupted in a flurry of flapping wings and gleaming scales. Stretching his vast wings to his sides, he ascended from the ashes. Clouds of soot and cinder wafted through the room, falling like black snow and settling on shoulders of the tall sculptures. Green eyes glared down from behind the sooty haze, and a toothy grin peeled across the dragon’s face.
“Most impressive,” Scull jeered. “Flames hot enough to singe even dragon scales!” Brushing off his immaculate scales, he nodded with satisfaction. “But as you can see, I am more god these days than I am dragon. Now, what was it we were discussing? Ah, yes, I was explaining to you how I was going to make you suffer.” With a sudden swipe of his claw, he batted Kazen across the room, slamming him hard into a marble pedestal, cracking it down the middle. “There really is nothing sweeter than the smell of roasting wizard, wouldn’t you agree?”
Gasping for breath, Kazen labored to his knees, watching in horror as Scull stomped toward Ilagon. “No!” he pleaded, hauling himself to his feet as the dragon drew in his fiery breath. Dragging a twisted ankle behind him, he limped across the room with all the haste he could manage. With a desperate howl of wizard song, he conjured a pitiful ball of fire and hurled it at Scull’s head.
His head abruptly tossed aside by the fireball, Scull inadvertently swallowed his own dragonfire. Choking down the scathing bile, his face contorted into a terrible grimace while coughing up puffs of black smoke. “What part of perpetual immortality do you not understand?” he growled, still clearing his throat.
Hobbling over a pile of stone rubble, Kazen hurried to Ilagon’s side.
“Very well.” Scull sighed. “If it means so very much to you, you may die together.”
Kneeling protectively over Ilagon, Kazen cringed as Scull drew in his crackling breath. With a bone-shaking roar, a torrent of fire flooded from the dragon’s jaws. Kazen raised his hands over his head, and summoning his last bit of strength, he leapt to his feet, fighting back the dragonfire with his own shield of flame. The dark room was ignited in a blaze of firelight. Brilliant orange dragonfire beat down on the Flame Weaver’s faltering yellow flame.
Kazen was instantly driven back down to his knees by the force of the dragonfire. He felt as though he was being crushed beneath a great weight. His magic waning and his strength failing, it was only his will that kept the dragon at bay. The heat from the mingled flames was scorching. He could see his hands blackening before his eyes, and tiny blisters bubbling and bursting down the length of his arms. His legs quaked beneath him, and whatever magic flame that burned within him began to flicker its last breath.
As Scull’s fiery breath finally expired, so did Kazen’s strength. He collapsed on the floor beside Ilagon’s still form, tucking his scorched arms up to his chest.
“A hero to the end.” Scull chuckled. “I suppose I should have expected as much. But let’s be honest, what’s it all for? You know you’re going to die, and no one is here to witness your last heroic act. For all the world knows, you died a coward. So why put yourself through the pain? There’s no love for an unsung hero, especially for who one has failed. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? Your magic is spent, your pain is nearly at its end.”
Ignoring Scull’s mockery, Kazen turned his head to look at Ilagon once more. Sorrowful tears filled his eyes as he placed a hand on the chest of his friend and father. “I am sorry,” he whispered, though a selfish part of him was glad to have Ilagon with him, here at the end.
The slow crackle of Scull’s inhale filled Kazen’s ears as he gazed numbly across the room at Gregore’s shriveled frame, slumped in his wooden chair. Wisps of shadow emerged from his chest again and again, and each time Gregore’s body writhed and convulsed in silent suffering.
What a strange thing, Kazen thought, watching with growing curiosity the shadows passing from Gregore’s chest. In fact, what a strange place all together, this chamber. There were no archways, no balconies, not even a single window, only a small wooden door. A small door no dragon could have ever passed through. So how did such an enormous creature come to be in such a tightly sealed room? It was as though the chamber had been built around the dragon, but why? Why would a dragon with no fear of death choose to imprison himself in such a dismal place? Unless . . . Kazen pondered, a sudden grin stretching across his lip. Unless he was protecting something very important.
“Wait!” he hollered, his defeated heart thumping back to life.
“What is it now!” Scull grumbled, once again choking back his flame. “If this is a plea for your pathetic life, I will save you the humiliation.”
“No,” Kazen said, scooping up his sword from the floor and rising weakly to his feet. “I would not insult you by begging.”
“But you do insult me.” Scull laughed, eyeing the sword behind Kazen’s back. “A sword against a dragon’s armor? I don’t think you’ve really thought this through.”
“Do you want to know what your brother’s last words to me were?” Kazen asked, tightening his charred fingers around his sword.
“Dying words?” Scull gaped with an amused chuckle. “How typically dramatic of the old fool! Do tell. His final rantings will make an excellent etching upon the foot of my throne.”
His brow tightening and his lip curling into a snarl, Kazen raised his sword over his head. “He told me to remember why I was here.”
With a heave of his arms, Kazen hurled his sword through the air, sending it tumbling hilt over tip across the room. Sailing over the shoulder of the silver dragon, it hummed as it sliced through the air, finally coming to rest in the chest of the crippled wizard, Gregore.
“What?!” Scull shrieked in a sudden rage, his thunderous bellow shaking the stoic statues. His head darting back and forth between Gregore and Kazen, he finally erupted in a fiery roar. “Do you know what you’ve done?” he growled, flames spilling from the corners of his mouth as he snapped his jaw shut just in front of Kazen’s face.
“What I was always meant to do!” Kazen bellowed back defiantly. “Destroy Gregore!”
A sudden cracking noise, like rock breaking away from a mountain, echoed through the chamber. Behind it came a faint rumble. Rolling in like a nearing storm, it grew louder and louder, its deep growl shaking Kazen to his very core.
“You never had the power to open the shadowgate!” Kazen hollered over the loudening rumble. “Only Gregore knew the secret! It is his magic that keeps the gate open! He is the key! That is why you have kept him alive!”
A gust of ghostly wind howled through the room, knocking Kazen to the ground with its icy breath. As the floor began to tremble, both he and Scull turned their attention back to Gregore, still slumped in his chair, the shining sword embedded deep in his chest. Beneath his crippled feet, the floor began to tremble, the legs of his wooden chair danced and tapped upon the quaking stone. From the wound in his chest shot out a beam of colorless light, black as a raven’s feather yet blinding to behold. The beam grew wider and wider, consuming half of his chest. Soon, tiny blisters began to bubble across his face and neck, and from these, new rays of black light pierced his skin. A jagged fissure sliced down the length of his torso, splitting his body in
two and revealing a hole into darkness. As the yawning fissure grew, Gregore was completely swallowed by the blackness, returning once again to the shadows to serve out his sentence.
Another concussive crash of thunder resounded through the hall, crumbling rows of tall statues to the ground. The cold wind whipped recklessly through the chamber, punishing the struggling torchlight and howling like a banshee as it was sucked into the newly born black hole.
“You think you’ve ruined me?” Scull roared, pouncing on Kazen and pinning him beneath his massive claws.
“You think you’ve won? I am still ever living! I do not need the powers of shadow to rule this world! I will crush it one mortal at a time! And I will start with you, Flame Weaver!”
Squirming beneath Scull’s heavy talons, Kazen cried out in pain as the dragon pressed his weight down on top of him. The breath crushed from his lungs, he had just begun to fade into darkness when Scull was abruptly shoved back by the force of the growing wind. Coughing and wheezing, Kazen scrambled to his feet, only to find himself face-to-face with the infuriated dragon. With flames in his eyes and a terrible roar, Scull raised his powerful claw above his head.
Kazen had barely even time to cringe when the ceiling of the chamber suddenly exploded. Crashing to the floor in a hail of stone, a great winged demon plummeted through the roof, flapping its wings and shrieking in a panic. Compelled by whatever forces of shadow that possessed it, the beast was sucked into the gaping black hole, melting into shadow as it passed through the gate.
Dashing for cover behind a ruined sculpture, Kazen peered out, watching the invulnerable Scull as he rose from beneath the fallen debris, shaking the dust and gravel from his back. The darkness swirled over the dragon’s head, churning like an angry storm. The clouds of shadow funneled down into the chamber, quickly forming into a howling vortex, which writhed rebelliously as it was drawn into the shadowgate.
Vicious wind ripped through the room, battering Kazen with bits of stone and debris. The tall statues creaked and cracked, threatening to crumble to the swelling tempest. Seeing Ilagon still lying unconscious at the foot of the teetering statues, Kazen darted back out into the open. Skidding to his knees, he scooped Ilagon’s head into his arms, wiping the gravel and dirt from his eyes and mouth.
The Flame Weaver Page 39
