by Ravek Hunter
Black spiders were everywhere. Some floated in the water around him, full of arrows, and many others were falling on them from above. The thwang of Aelrindel’s bowstring was no longer distinct, just a constant hum of vibration, he loosed his arrows with such speed. From behind, Havacian was sending liquid jets of water into the spiders nearly as quickly, piercing their bodies like daggers and at the same time sending walls of water at the Old Haig to disrupt her spell casting. Qel knew they couldn’t keep this up forever and decided that he had to do something about the Old Haig if they were going to survive.
Qel worked to dispatch the nearest spiders with flames from his hands until they were no longer any near him. Aelrindel was out of arrows and was fending off the spiders with his spinning sword while Havacian focused his full attention on keeping the waves of water exploding on the Old Haig. But something had changed. Two large shapes emerged from the depths of the mire ahead of the witch, disrupting the walls of water and allowing her to move her arms dramatically with gestures, as if she pulled the creatures up as they grew in front of her.
Qel sent flames into them, but nothing happened. They looked strange, he thought, generally humanoid with thick arms and legs and a featureless, faceless head covered in rotting vines and leaves. When they reached their final height, taller than even he, they began to move toward them. Qel sent more flames into them. Still nothing, and Havacian’s water walls didn’t have enough power to affect them. One came close to Aelrindel, and he swiped at its arm. His sword stuck in it like he had thrust it into mud. He barely pulled it free and dove away before the thing struck him with its other massive arm. In the meantime, the Old Haig was waving her arms again.
“Havacian!” Qel cried as he maneuvered his way away from a mud monster. “Can you extract the moisture from them?”
“I can try!”
Qel looked around wildly. The spiders were all dead, and Aelrindel was hacking ineffectively around the slow-moving mud creature on his side of the room. He looked back at the Old Haig just in time to see a cloud of projectiles hurled his way. There was nowhere to go, so he dropped to the water in front of the mud creature nearest him. The heavy collision of numerous dart-like objects hitting the mud creature from behind was satisfying until he felt the pain of one impacting his side. It burned deep in his right hip, but he had no time to agonize over it before he felt a blow impact his chest, sending him tumbling through the air in the direction of Havacian. He couldn’t breathe, the breath knocked out of him, and he lay gasping. Above him, Havacian had his arms in the air, and what looked like a fast-moving mist flowed all around him.
Seconds later, Aelrindel was next to Qel, pulling him away from Havacian. He tried to stumble to his feet while the elf swatted at the mud creatures, keeping their attention away from the Atlanteans. The Old Haig was preparing another cast when Aelrindel tossed a dagger that lodged in her midsection, interrupting her. She screamed something that sounded like a curse and pulled at the blade to dislodge it. Qel was amazed at the pure skill of the elf to almost single-handedly keep them alive, and he resolved to recover himself and get back into the fight.
Qel was confident that Aelrindel could kite the mud creatures around the room and away from him and Havacian as long as Qel could keep the Old Haig’s attention. She had just managed to remove Aelrindel’s dagger from her abdomen, and where it pierced her, Qel saw a greenish-brown liquid oozing from the wound. The smell of it reached him almost as quickly, and he gaged involuntarily. It was far more putrid than the water in the room. The water. Just then he realized there was no more water on the ground, and even his feet felt dry in his boots. Risking a quick glance, he looked over at Havacian. He was exactly as he was before. Then Qel’s attention was back on the Old Haig.
Ignoring her wound, she had her hands on the mass of branches that grew out of her back and stretched around the rest of the room from the wall behind her. She was chanting. Qel cast a sheet of flames, engulfing the Old Haig and the wall of branches around her. She screamed in pain, but the damage was minimal. Qel surmised that she must still be saturated with water. Then the branches around them flashed blue, and the next second he was on the ground writhing in pain. He could hear the screams of Aelrindel and Havacian echo his own. When it finally ended, he stood unsteadily and attacked the Old Haig with more flames. She screamed again, but there was no more visible damage than the last time. He looked around. Aelrindel somehow just managed to stay a step ahead of the mud creatures despite the lightning attack, and Havacian was attempting to resume whatever he was doing to dry out the room. Odd, Qel thought absently, the chamber seemed smaller than it was before.
Qel scanned the branches around the room. They appeared brittle and dry farther away from the Old Haig, and there was a distinct creaking sound that came from all around him that he had not noticed before, as if the branches were contracting. Aelrindel was much closer now, moving in a zigzag pattern at the edge of the room, which was smaller than a moment before. The mud creatures, no longer wading through water, looked dry and cracked, leaving thin patches of crumbled earth on the ground behind them. The creaking continued, and Qel realized what was happening. He ran over to Havacian, who was slowly being forced toward the center of the room by the branches behind him.
“Havacian! The Old Haig is contracting the branches to bring us all within reach of the mud creatures. I need you to focus on removing the water from them, not the entire room.” Qel was feeling desperate. The room was a quarter the size that it was when they first entered, and the Old Haig was unreachable behind the branches on the wall she occupied. “Hurry, Havacian, or they will crush us!”
Qel could no longer feel his right leg, and he collapsed on the ground in front of Havacian. With all the adrenaline flowing through him, he had forgotten about the wound in his hip. He reached down and found the head of the missile lodged there and pulled it out. He gasped at the pain, and blood began flowing freely. He glanced at the projectile that he removed from his flesh, realized it was a colossal thorn, and threw it to the side. Conjuring a small ball of flame, he shoved it into the open wound to cauterize it. His scream nearly outdid that of the Old Haig, and he passed out.
“Qel!” Someone was kicking him. “Qel, wake up!” Qel opened his eyes. Havacian was standing over him, conjuring his power toward the mud creatures that were closer than ever. “Put some fire into them!” Havacian implored.
Qel was groggy and exhausted from pain. He tried to stand and fell back to the ground after an explosion of pain from the wound in his hip. He rotated his body to face the direction of the mud creatures and sent a column of fire plunging into them. Large chunks of dried mud and foliage fell from their bodies, yet they shambled on closer and closer to Aelrindel, who was nearly out of room to maneuver. So close were the enclosing branches that the dry ones ignited into flames.
Aelrindel was now not only barely avoiding the pummeling of the mud creatures, but was dodging the flaming branches above him at the same time. “Damn the flames! Finish these monsters!” By the look of the haggard elf, he was nearly exhausted and would fall soon if Qel didn’t act quickly.
Flames poured from his hands in thick jets conjured not just for the power of their flames but for the force of their impact. The first blast sent a mud creature’s arm exploding into a million pieces; the next one shattered a leg, and another evaporated one’s head. Still, they came, and the branches around them had become a flaming cage. Qel began to fear that even if they destroyed the mud creatures, they would all die by flames of his own making.
The Old Haig was shrieking, purifying pain reflected in her agony, the pain of flame that they too soon would be experiencing. Shoving those thoughts aside, Qel was quick about his business, blasting parts and pieces of the mud creatures until they could no longer threaten. When it was over, Aelrindel and Havacian huddled with him, sweating from the heat, near collapse from the smoke, under the flaming canopy that would soon be collapsing upon them, entertained only by the serenade of
death sung by the shrieking Old Haig.
It might have been a dream, a vision, or a delusion, Qel couldn’t be sure, and he didn’t care. In his last moments of consciousness, he was sure he felt the fresh, cold, wet, and beautiful patter of rain cascading down upon his face. And if anyone ever found his remains, with his friends around him, they would find him with death mask that included a mysterious smile.
Chapter 21
Belthagore
The black shade could sense it drawing closer, the powerful magic that it was seeking . . . that it craved. The shade glided through the air unaffected by the chill, the wind, or any other physical influence of this world, for it was not of this world. Its home was once the Infernal Planes, a hellish dimension created by the old gods as a prison for its kind and for some far more powerful. But no longer; it was free now. It didn’t know how or by what method it and the others won release. When the cracks in their prison appeared, they burst through and never looked back to question why.
The dark mass was aware of the thickly forested mountainous region below, in the heart of what the inhabitants of this world called the Wilds. The lure of power was close, very close. It could almost feel the power within its grasp. The enticement was overwhelming, and once he sensed it, the shade was drawn to it with relentless abandon. In the distance, it “saw” a wide crack in the face of a high, sheer cliffside. That was its destination. That’s where it would find the creature that wielded the power it so desperately wanted.
Entering the break in the rock, the shade flew swiftly down the winding, rough-hewn passage that led into the darkest depths of the mountain until it widened into a massive cavern with several smaller caverns around the perimeter. Pausing at the brink of the vast expanse, it observed a darker shape than even the impenetrable darkness that surrounded it. The shade was not afraid, nor did it harbor any doubts, even if the outcome of this encounter was far from certain. It was driven by a singular motivation for power, and if it prevailed in the struggle that was to come, then it would wield more power and influence than it had at any time during its entire existence. The dark shape below was dreaming, and the shade plunged into those dreams effortlessly.
Stirred from a deep slumber by an ancient instinct for danger, the great beast reacted with sudden violence. Fire erupted through the cavern, briefly illuminating the creature’s huge shape, and the flash of light glistened off scales black as the starless night. Broad wings beat ferociously at the stale air, while a long, flexible tail tipped with piercing spikes whipped back and forth, seeking satisfaction. And the claws, sharp as daggers, rent the air below a long serpentine neck that supported a huge spiked head that flailed angrily back and forth, snapping relentlessly between the bursts of flame from its sharp-fanged maw.
Inside the creature’s consciousness, the shade began to take control. The first thing it discovered was that the beast’s name was Belthagore, and he was an ancient Black Dragon furious that his long hibernation was interrupted by a presence invading his mind.
The dark shade understood the Black Dragon’s mind, his thoughts, and his memories. It had successfully ambushed the ancient beast and could sense the distress and confusion of being awakened like this. This Dragon was a powerful opponent fully equipped to defend itself with magic and considerable psionic ability. Even as surprised as the Dragon was, the shade knew that it would not be easy to dominate this one’s mind. The shade’s own psionic strength and pure evil desire were unparalleled and fueled by anger and aggression—but would it be enough to overcome the venerable Dragon? It could sense Belthagore’s struggle to gain clarity in his own mind and banish his unwelcome invader, but it was not going well for him, as the shade spun barrier after barrier in the Dragon’s mind to wear down his defenses.
For many days the silent conflict raged back and forth on an invisible, mental battlefield. The shade could sense that Belthagore was not prepared for a struggle of this magnitude, and the Dragon began to fail a little at a time. This great worm was used to combat of a physical nature, rarely using his considerable psionic ability to gain the advantage. It was hardly necessary for a creature that chased down forest animals and occasionally terrorized the pathetic humans that populated this world. The poor beast had not had a serious challenge since the Breaking of the Tuatha De, and if the shade could have felt compassion, it would have understood that its advantage was not because of its own power, but the despair of a creature with barely a will to live.
In the last moments, before the Dragon Belthagore lost his identity forever, the shade sensed a final parting thought, What does it matter? Then the venerable worm slipped into oblivion. The shade, no longer just a shade, now possessed the form and abilities of a formidable, three-thousand-year-old Black Dragon, a commanding host that could challenge the gods themselves! With the Dragon within his control, the shade known as Tephras, Greater Demon of Anger, would be ready for any challenge.
The Demon searched Belthagore’s memories to find out more about this creature under his control, its history, and its potent capabilities. He learned that Dragons were once fairly common before the age of humanoids, so many millennia ago. They were not magical creatures then, and they were physically smaller. They lived together in clans and hunted in pairs or groups and in those days stalked prey like any predator with claw, tooth, and instinct, living typical life spans of about forty years.
Their lives changed forever when the first primitive humans appeared.
At first, they were a natural source of food, but their populations grew very quickly, and they began to expand farther and farther into the Dragons’ ancient territories. In only a few hundred years, humans developed the use of advanced weapons like powerful longbows and protective armor, machines that threw great bolts or boulders, and they were no longer so easily hunted. Instead, the humans hunted the Dragons, and thousands of the creatures died. No longer safe to live in clans or hunt in groups, Dragons fled to remote areas away from human habitation. They became solitary creatures that jealously defended territories
Then the Tuatha De appeared from somewhere to the north.
They were a magical race of humanoids, not the same as the humans, and they took a particular interest in Dragon-kind. Hundreds were captured and compelled to breed new generations of Dragons, altered by the dark magic of the Tuatha De. These new Dragons had magic-like abilities themselves and higher intellect. The goal of the Tuatha De was to utilize them for transportation, labor, and eventually war. For hundreds of years, the Dragons’ evolution progressed, and they were split into several species typically identified by their color, and they developed high-functioning abilities that rivaled their masters’. In the end, the experiment was interrupted by civil war between factions of the Tuatha De that became known as the Breaking. The Dragons fought for and against the Tuatha De until they realized that they didn’t need to be slaves of these humanoids any longer, and many of them escaped. Those who stayed behind were ultimately banished to Fomoire with thousands of other Tuatha De “experiments.”
Over the span of the next three millennia, the Dragons’ magic abilities evolved with their environment and intellect. Their instinctual need for survival forced them to remain solitary creatures, perfecting their craft, and those with the ability to transform lived among men. The Dragons’ lonely existence was counterproductive to their populations, and very few were born over the subsequent years. Yet, it didn’t seem to matter, considering that the Tuatha De had increased their natural lifespans by over a hundredfold. Even still, their populations declined further as the most powerful fought among themselves for dominance and humans, especially the ones who clothed themselves in metal, found it great sport to hunt them.
Only the most intellectual and skilled Dragons remained today, and Belthagore had been one of them. Now Tephras was in control and eager to test the abilities of his new host. Belthagore’s own memories betrayed a mundane, listless existence that induced him to frequent, decades-long hibernation. The Black Dragon had
left himself vulnerable to one such as Tephras, and the Demon was thrilled to find him. He would terrorize lands into submission, lead vast armies in conquest, and exact terror from these pitiful humans unlike the world had ever seen. Tephras’s mental grin reflected itself on the lips of the Dragon. Empires would fall to his tyranny.
Belthagore, wholly subjugated by Tephras, roared with brief satisfaction. Seething with anger and hunger, he flew from his lair into the night sky and looked for prey to eat or merely kill indiscriminately for the pure satisfaction of it.
~~~
Tephras had a very successful night. Apparently, the inhabitants of the region around Belthagore’s lair either forgot or did not realize that they lived in the shadow of a mighty ancient Dragon residing in the peaks above them. The Demon found nothing more satisfying than feeding his anger with the killing of man, animal, or beast. Over the past few hours he found his satisfaction in all three—first, a griffon flying nearby, then several deer standing sedately in an open glen, and finally a merchant camped in the forest with a retinue of at least twenty guards and servants. All died horribly, and some satiated his host’s need for food.
The Dragon consumed far more than he needed for the next several days, but Tephras would be out again the next evening killing for the joy of it. He never felt such power from a host before. This ancient Dragon was strong, with unexpected magical abilities the Demon discovered with every day that passed. The havoc he could wreak among the nearby kingdoms would substantially spread his particular brand of terror, and it gave the Demon confidence to think that for once he could project his power far beyond the immediate area of Belthagore’s lair.
