Dragon Scepter

by Angelique Anderson

  Then, like a scene out of a dream, a head of blue rose from the waves. The sapphire hair visible before Astrid could even make out the shape of the youngest member of her family.

  Hekla was running full speed toward them, eyes wide with fear, face scrunched tightly as she ran for her life.

  Then in almost dream sequence, Aequorans rose behind her. Only, they weren’t the adorned soldiers who had emerged before. Their flesh was dark, rotting, Astrid could almost see it falling off as they angrily marched forward. This is what she had been warned about.

  “Hurry, Hekla!” Astrid motioned for her sister to get behind her, as she began loosing her arrows. Her arm making the motions, pulling the bowstring, depending on Aronus’s magic to keep up. The arrows met their mark, barely making a dent in the undead that had begun emerging from the waves.

  “There are so many of them!” Astrid yelled.

  “Hold tight!” Quimby yelled from overhead.

  Wings pounded harder above Astrid’s head, and the Sky Ethereals got in formation. Suddenly, the sky was raining rocks and arrows. The amount of undead was nearly apocalyptical, and at first, it seemed futile to attack such a force, but as the rocks and arrows continued to fall from the sky, and from the Caelestans and Aequorans behind her, the undead began to fall. They fell onto the shore and into the water, lifeless once more. The waves washed their bodies back into shore, and some of them got right back up and began to fight. It caused Astrid to shudder, only she couldn’t let herself lose focus.

  “Advance, soldiers! They must not reach land!”

  “Haaaaa!” the Caelestan army yelled, pushing forward.

  The recovering Aequorans followed close behind the Caelestans, swords and shields drawn. Ready to fight. Ready for battle. Ready to die.

  Snarling and tearing flesh surged into the air, making Astrid’s ears flare up. Caelestan blades rose high, diving deep into their undead counter parts. Screaming echoed loudly around Astrid as the creatures died, and as the soldiers fought for their lives. The undead didn’t have weapons, but they weren’t ill equipped for battle either. Their strength was beyond any Caelestan or Aequoran. When they didn’t succumb to blade, spear, or arrow, and they made it to a soldier, their fierce strength was enough to make quick work of any opponent. Astrid watched in horror as the creatures tore Caelestan and Aequoran alike limb from limb. She cringed at the sight, but they had to continue on. They had to fight.

  Astrid tried to turn her head to see the status of her people on her other side, but time would not allow it. Three undead closed in quickly, mouths agape, foul-smelling flesh dangling by thinly remaining muscles. Sunken eyes watched her maliciously. She shivered at the sight.

  She could feel their desire for her death, as if it was what drove them. As if it was the only thing that drove them. They growled and snarled as they approached, their movements stunted. They ran like newly mobile children who hadn’t figured out how to use their legs. This allowed her the advantage as she loosed arrow after arrow. Even as her arrows took off their extremities, their decaying flesh falling away with each precise arrow loosed, they kept advancing.

  “On your left!” screamed a voice from the sky.

  Her attention diverted in the direction of the shout. One of the undead was nearly on her. She loosed two quick arrows on it to no avail.

  “I could use a little help over here!” she yelled.

  “Get down!” someone screamed overhead, and she dropped to the ground, just as more rocks and arrows came raining down.

  The creatures that had come after her, fell to the ground, groaning and gargling, as they stopped moving. She used the opportunity to stand up and refocus her attention, running toward the Caelestan and Aequoran armies that were under attack. Her feet nearly slipped from underneath her as she picked up speed. She’s always felt in control with her bow, prepared for any enemy that would come after her. Only this was the kind of battle that required a blade. As she loosed her arrow, one after the other, and they landed in the flesh of the grotesque beings that ripped and tore at any individual in sight, she saw them continuing on.

  It seemed that only by beheading them, were they stopped completely. The four that had fallen only moments before, were back up, and headed in her direction.

  “Aronus! I need more!”

  “Just keep loosing your arrows, as quick as you can!” he shouted back.

  She did as she was told but felt as if it was in vain.

  Hekla was already moving through the crowd, hard at work with her scepter, waving it over the bodies of those who had been torn down by the flesh-eaters.

  A feeling of hopelessness settled in her stomach, just as the flapping of great wings sounded overhead, diverting the attention of the decaying creatures that advanced on her. She was surrounded. They were all surrounded.

  A Sky Ethereal descended, and from its back, Cayden slid over the side, dropping to the ground. The feathered animal cried out, and then rose up, disappearing into the sky. The soft metal clang of a blade being unsheathed cut through the air.

  Cayden had not hesitated for a second, advancing hard and heavy against the creatures. His blade sliced through necks, causing heads to roll. Blood splattered, and the sound of flesh sending shivers through the bodies of those nearby. Before Astrid could blink, Cayden had successful decapitated seven of the undead creatures surrounding her.

  A spray of blood cascaded over the left side of Astrid’s body. The foul scent causing her to gag. She hurried away from the advancing creatures, and Cayden stepped forward, swinging his sword with expert grace. As if he and the metal were one and the same. As more flesh tore, and more heads went flying, the roar of the creatures increased.

  It was like they could feel their demise at the hands of the Cayden, who was relentless in his fighting. A surge of gratitude surged through her. He had saved her. Again. Her arrows, no matter how fast she loosed them, had not been enough.

  “My arrows,” Astrid shouted over the sound of battle, “are useless. They will not defeat these creatures. They won’t stop until their head is removed.”

  Cayden frowned as he turned to look at her. He spun his head back forward, where he ducked a swipe of one of the undead creature’s hand. Putting his knee on the ground, he rotated his body around to stab his sword into the creature’s abdomen. The undead creature, who appeared to have once been a Caelestan, grunted in response and tried to back off of the blade. Cayden let him, but once he was free, Cayden swung his sword at the creature’s neck, lopping his head off of his body.

  Cayden glanced over at Astrid, his face still frowning at her defeated expression. “Your arrows are magical, are they not?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “They penetrate flesh?”

  Astrid pursed her lips as she nodded, wondering what he was getting at.

  “I’ve seen you loose your arrows. You’re fast. I’ve never seen any archer release arrows as fast as you. Have you tried aiming for their neck?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Of course.”

  Cayden tilted his head. “How many arrows? One or two?” He shook his head. “No, I’m suggesting that you release a lot more than that. Five—ten? I don’t know. However, many it takes to tear the flesh of the creatures’ necks from their shoulders. A straight line of arrows.”

  Her eyes bulged at his idea. Astrid parted her mouth, like she wanted to respond, but Cayden had already turned away from her and fought against more incoming undead. She bit her lip, steadied her bow as she pulled another arrow from the tail of Aronus.

  She released.

  Astrid nocked another arrow and loosed again. Another. Another. It took six arrows—one after another, aiming from left to right on one of the creature’s necks, until the last arrow broke the flesh off of its shoulders. The creature fell to the ground and moved no more.

  Astrid grinned. She no longer felt useless. It wasn’t as easy as slicing a head from an opponent’s shoulders, but neither was it hopeless.

&n
bsp; Side by side they fought, Astrid dropping back at times to provide defense for the weaker fighters who were new at wielding their blades. The Aequorans had recovered and were in full battle form, blades and shields drawn. They followed Cayden’s lead, decapitating the undead, as quickly as they could. None who fought were immune to the smell of decaying flesh, soldiers fell back as they were overwhelmed and vomited.

  Nonetheless, the numbers of the undead slowly, but steadily decreased.

  They were winning.

  As less and less creatures rose from the depths of the sea, the soldiers grew more and more emboldened in their actions. Blades moved quicker, and the undead body count rose. Then, sweating and tired, the sun setting in the horizon, they saw no more rising from the sea.

  Astrid took a long, deep breath.

  “We won!” she yelled jubilantly.

  In a daze, the mix of Caelestans and Aequorans glanced around. Their scrunched faces relaxing as they realized they were no longer under attack.

  Cayden, panting heavily, slid his sword back into its scabbard, and smiling wide, ran toward Astrid wrapping her in a tight hug and squeezing her to himself.

  “We did it! You were brilliant,” he said, spinning her around.

  “Stop!” she said, laughing.

  Her laughter stopped at the sudden sound of more crashing waves. Cayden set her back on the ground and they turned their attention to the body of water. To their dismay, a beast emerged from the waves, larger than any they had ever seen. His scales black as the night that threatened upon them, long sharpened teeth glistening, its massive jaws opening wide. The dragon’s eyes dripped solid menace, its body seemed to radiate hatred and rage.

  It emanated off of him, and a collective shudder rose from those that stood stationed on the shore watching the beast’s movements. Then, after a single inhaling of breath, hundreds more of the undead creatures rose from the depths of the sea.

  They hadn’t won, they were just beginning.

  45

  Svana

  We all must start from humble beginnings. From the poorest to the most powerful, for it is from ashes that flames will rise, and Phoenixes will be born. It is those Phoenixes that will save us all. Whether it be leader, soldier or kings and queens.

  King Martin the Truthful, Third King of Aequoris, 493 A.V.

  The once promising hallway of plush carpets, and elegant artistry hung high on the walls had grown dark. Svana’s heart could feel the heaviness as they walked, heads down.

  “Svana?”

  Her head popped up, as a familiar face greeted her with a tired, wrinkled grin. The smell of rum faint in the air around him.

  “Branwin!” Her eyes lit up, as she realized who it was. “I thought something had happened to you?”

  “No, I’m well, lass. Took on a job here, trying ta stay outta trouble.” He smoothed back his hair, looking sheepish as he looked to the ground.

  “Your hair is shorter, and you cut your beard?” She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his slightly rotund form, comforted by the soft smell of alcohol. “Still enjoying the brew, I see?”

  Branwin winked at her, and softly started to sing.

  “Watch out for the lady, watch out for the lass,

  She'll skin ya, and eat ya' and do it with class.

  For ne'er a man who could steal her away,

  For he's sure to be dead by the end of the day…”

  Svana laughed. “Hard to believe that you can remember that! You reeked of rum!”

  Branwin nodded. “Well, I’m not proud of that fact, but I won’t forget our first days together. Finest captain of the guard I’ve ever had the privilege to serve. I’m still here to fight alongside you, in fact, that’s why I’m here.”

  Svana smiled wide. “You’re coming to join us?”

  He nodded. “Those bells only mean one thing: battle. I’d gladly fight anywhere you’ll be.”

  “Then we’d best hurry,” she urged him.

  “Indeed, I’ve been instructed to lead you to the armory; Guards!” Branwin called loudly, calling to those who roamed the hallways. “Ready the king’s men, as many as are willing to head into battle. Alert all who show for the bells that we are going into the fight of our lives. We will need any and all who are willing.”

  They nodded silently, as Branwin took lead in front of Svana and Jakobe. Somber faced, the three of them walked along the richly carpeted hallway, silently. The guards hurried off to do as they were bid, while Branwin used his keys to unlock the armory, where he moved quickly to hand Jakobe armor, and a sword. When he tried to do the same for Svana, she shook her head.

  “The blade I carry is enough, and the armor I wear has suited me well my entire journey.”

  “Very well,” Branwin said with a furrow of his brow, concern etched in his wrinkle lines. He then equipped his armor before the three of them exited and headed to the stables. There was a team of armored soldiers already waiting. Svana tried to shake off the feeling that there were some not ready for such a fight, too many young faces, too much fear. She tried to catch their attention, hoping to warn them away with a look.

  Some couldn’t have been older than teenagers, soft skinned faces and the absence of facial hair alluding to their age. They whispered to their friends, eyes on her, occasionally punching each other in the arms playfully as they teased and joked. Svana could feel her heart breaking. She knew that not all of them would be returning home, and in her mind, she begged the Unseen Ones to have mercy on the young.

  Only they were too intent on what lay ahead, too focused on the man who was leading horses out of the barn and telling them to mount up.

  “Prepare yourselves, men and women,” Branwin said as he gave Svana a stern look. “What lies ahead is unknown, but King Armand insists that it could mean life and death for every kingdom. We will ride hard to the water’s edge. Prepare yourselves. Today is the day that will determine what the future holds for us.”

  “Hear, hear!” Strong, affirmative shouts rang out, as the sound of horse hooves against dirt sounded in the air.

  “And King Armand?” Svana called out.

  “I assure you, milady, that he is on his way,” Branwin replied.

  Svana nodded her head, as he led a rust-hued stallion to her, handing over the lead as he secured the saddle.

  “Ever rode a horse before?”

  “I think I can handle it,” she answered.

  Miffed that he hadn’t asked the question of anyone else. Svana gently dug her heels into the side of the beast, feeling the warmth of its sides under her legs as it breathed in and out. It let out a small kick and took off in a slow gallop. Digging her heels in harder, the horse sped up. Svana led the horse to the outer edge of the group that was already on its way toward the water, then pulled up tight in front of them to secure the lead.

  She would do whatever it took to protect the lives of those who had put themselves out there for Telluris.

  “Stay close!” she yelled out, withdrawing her blade and pointing it in the air as they galloped toward the trees, the uncertainty of what lay ahead nagging at the back of her mind.

  Svana would not show weakness, not now, not ever. Whatever happened in the moments to come, the people were going to need her. Horses galloped on all sides of her, and the constant pounding of hooves on the ground comforted her. At least this time she wouldn’t be marching into battle alone. She had the support of the Tellurian soldiers—men who were willing to give their lives to see all of Verdil restored.

  Svana had the help of a magical dragon, who even though weak, was strong enough to give her magic. A magic that gave her an advantage against her opponents. That would have to be enough for now. They broke through the trees, to the most unusual sight she had ever seen. Decomposing bodies of Aequorans lay, beheaded, flesh falling from their extremities even as they remained unmoving.

  “That stench is horrendous!” Svana cried out as they approached.

  A loud roar shook the atmosphere all
around her, causing the ground beneath her feet to rumble. In unison, the army of Tellurians turned their attention toward the water, and from the crashing waves, a dragon emerged from the sea, his body seemingly suspended atop the water’s surface.

  Tellurians and Aequorans alike, screamed out. Even as the sound of blades against scabbards could be heard. The people were preparing to fight.

  “Is that a …”

  “Dragon,” Svana finished.

  The dragon’s eyes were piercing with rage, lips curled over its pearlescent teeth. There was nothing inviting or friendly about the beast, and Svana knew they had a fight on their hands. More than that—she could feel a presence in the atmosphere… a darkness that caused her to shiver.

  “Svana!” a familiar voice called out.

  Clearly having heard the soft gallop of horse hooves, Hekla rushed to Svana’s side, and Astrid was quick to follow.

  “My sisters,” Svana said, sliding to the right of the saddle, her feet coming to rest on the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the dragon beast which had not moved since shaking itself from the water. He seemed suspended in time, not far from the shore.

  “Svana! It’s so good to see you, but I’m afraid we don’t have time for pleasantries. This dragon—I don’t know why he hesitates, but he’s in charge of the dark magic behind the undead that attacked earlier.” Hekla motioned to the decaying corpses that lay scattered like fallen leaves across the shoreline where they had battled earlier.

  “I’ve never heard of such black magic,” Svana said, matter of fact, her eyes steady on the dragon for any sign of movement.

  “Nor I,” Astrid agreed.

  The beast emitted a loud roar that thundered across the waters, causing waves to rise and crash against the shore. After a moment’s pause, his form began its approach.

  “No more time to waste, attack!” Astrid gave the order, and immediately everyone on the waterfront began to take formation with soldiers from all kingdoms raising their weapons and shields to form a line of warriors along the shoreline.