Akiri: Dragonbane

by Brian D. Anderson

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The voice sounded familiar. All too familiar. As Akiri ascended the stairs with Rena, he hoped he was wrong. But as the archway came into full view, he knew he was not. It was Seyla. His pose was eerily reminiscent of how they had first met on the mountain outside the boy’s village. Akiri thought to call to him, to ask if he was all right. But the sinister look on his tiny face and the casual smile he wore said that this was not Seyla standing before him.

  “Welcome, Akiri,” the boy said. “And I see you brought the lovely Rena. I saw the two of you fighting together. It was truly a sight to behold. When I think about the offspring you could bear… Such children could conquer the world.”

  Yarrow laughed. To hear the vile evil issuing forth from one so young was unnerving. Akiri could have closed the gap and killed him with a single blow. But surely Yarrow was aware of this. Likely all he would accomplish was Seyla’s death. Wherever Yarrow’s true body was, he would need to find it before he acted. That was, assuming the necromancer had a body to kill.

  “I see that you met with some of my” – he paused for a moment, as if searching for the right word – “children,” he offered eventually. “A pity you acted rashly. They would have lived on for centuries within the ice had you not intervened. I might have even found a use for them at some point. Now, alas, they are gone forever.”

  “I did not come to discuss your abominations,” said Akiri.

  “Of course not,” Yarrow agreed. “You have come for the boy and the dragon. Am I right?”

  “What have you done with Kyra?” Akiri demanded.

  A wisp a black smoke drifted from the boy’s mouth. “Such a fierce creature.” This time the voice did not come from Seyla; rather it emanated from all directions at once. The smoke curled and twisted until it coiled around his entire body.

  “Leave him!” Akiri shouted.

  The smoke expanded, slowly coalescing into a more defined shape. “And if I do not? What will you do?”

  The smoke slithered to the floor. Gradually it expanded, taking on the form of a cowled figure, its arms folded and head bent. There was nothing discernible to either its face or clothing, as though it had no real substance, only a shadow of form.

  “Where is Kyra?” Akiri was losing patience. “What have you done with her?”

  “The dragon is quite safe, I assure you. For now.” He allowed his last words to hang in the air for a moment. “How long she remains so, however, is entirely up to you.”

  Seyla was listless and dead-eyed as the specter reached out with a formless hand and brushed it against the boy’s cheek. “Such a good lad. Strong, like his father. It’s why I chose him.”

  “Enough games,” snapped Akiri. “What is it you want?”

  Seyla turned toward the temple and began a slow methodical walk. Yarrow moved in behind him, gliding across the stone floor, wisps of his essence wrapping themselves around the boy’s torso.

  “Come,” said Yarrow. “There is something I think you should see.”

  Akiri and Rena followed, keeping a comfortable distance from the apparition. The plan to find Yarrow’s physical form seemed hopeless. If he had one, he had no intention of revealing it. In all probability, he didn’t. And if that were the case, how do you kill something without substance? Killing Seyla was not a thing he was willing to consider, and it likely would do nothing to harm Yarrow anyway. There must be a way; a weakness. Even demon spirits could be killed by using celestial weapons. For the first time since meeting Hagrik and Vazhta, he actually wished they had come. Perhaps they knew of a way. But they had been conspicuously absent of late.

  The moment he crossed the threshold of the temple, he felt the familiar voice of Kyra in his mind. He nearly shouted with joy. It was weak, but it was there.

  The interior of the temple was stark and unadorned, its treasures raided long ago. Tall columns climbed to the high ceiling where thick chains hung almost to the ground, each holding a brass brazier. Several arched doorways led to other parts of the complex along either side. Twenty-foot tall statues of Xarbaal stood toward the rear of the massive chamber, a black altar placed between them. Atop this, curled up into a ball, was Kyra, eyes closed and growling softly. Her head rested on one of her front legs.

  Akiri could no longer restrain himself and broke into a run. Rena reached out to stop him, but he would not be deterred.

  Ignoring all else, Akiri spanned the distance and placed his hands gently on her neck. Kyra stirred, but her eyes remained shut.

  “What have you done to her?” Akiri spun, freeing his sword from its sheath, teeth bared.

  “Nothing that cannot be undone,” replied Yarrow. “But I wanted you to understand how helpless your situation is.”

  “Release her!” He took a menacing step forward.

  Yarrow laughed. “Why would I do that? She might fly away. And I do so enjoy looking at her. So fierce and filled with life. A true wonder of the world, wouldn’t you say? But as I have no desire to harm such a magnificent creature, I think I shall…what is the phrase? Ah yes, raise the stakes.”

  The shadow moved suddenly. It drew back, contracting into a thin stream, and moved through the air, rippling and churning. Before Akiri could react to give warning, it descended upon Rena, wrapping itself around her like a ghostly cloak. Eyes wide, she flailed her arms wildly in a desperate attempt to free herself from Yarrow’s suffocating embrace. But it was like trying to remove mist from the air.

  “Leave her, Yarrow. She is nothing to you. She has no part in this.”

  “Does she not? Then why is she here? Certainly not because of feelings she harbors for you. And she has no attachment to the boy. She is here for reasons she has yet to reveal to you.” Akiri creased his brow. “You didn’t really think a woman like her was without secrets, did you?”

  The shadow shrank around Rena, growing tighter and tighter until it was as a second skin. The sheath of smoke darkened until it was impossible to make out her features. She reached for her throat, gasping and choking as if being strangled. Akiri was helpless to do anything as she fell to her knees and then crumpled to the floor, motionless.

  The smoke drifted away, returning to the form of Yarrow. Akiri rushed to Rena’s side and lifted her head, cradling it in his arm. Her flesh was cold to the touch and her breathing barely detectable. A blemish appeared on her forearm. Slowly it darkened, becoming more pronounced until the mark of Yarrow was clearly visible.

  Yarrow let out a satisfied grunt. “Now that all the pieces are in place, I can tell you why I brought you here.”

  “I weary of your games and petty cruelties.” Akiri gently placed Rena’s head on the floor and rose to his feet.

  “The mark does not have to be permanent,” Yarrow promised. “I can remove it easily enough. Whether or not I will is up to you.”

  “Release Kyra, the boy, and Rena, and I will do whatever it is you want me to do.”

  “I will free them once I am assured my prize. And only then.”

  Akiri knew that he was beaten, at least for now. But he refused to surrender to despair. He knew from experience that losing a battle could often lead you to what you needed to win the war. There was nothing he could do to fight Yarrow. But it was clear that despite all his power, he needed Akiri for something. That gave him time. But time to do what? There was no guarantee that once Yarrow had his prize – whatever it was – that he would honor their bargain. But as it stood, Akiri had little choice. And perhaps the prize itself was the key.

  Akiri nodded. “Very well.”

  “Excellent. I knew you would see reason. Your task is quite simple, actually. All I want you to do is collect something for me. Something I won in battle long ago that is now in the possession of my enemy. Do this, and you shall have earned your reward.”

  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He could almost see the face of King Zemel, madness twisting his features, his lust for the power of Xarbaal driving him relentlessly. A voice in the
recesses of his mind told him that, as had been the case with the king, this necromancer sought something he should never be allowed to possess. And like before, hard choices would have to be made. He looked to Kyra, then to Seyla and Rena. This time the choice would be much harder to make.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Yarrow remained in his shadow form as he led Akiri through the labyrinth of passageways deep within the temple. Like the main gallery, the rest had been stripped of its wealth. Only a few carvings in the ancient language told whom this temple had once served.

  They descended a series of winding stairwells. Soon the air grew warm, and a slow hiss carried through the narrow corridors. After several more minutes, they entered a massive chamber, nearly as large as the main gallery. At the far end stood another altar, though this one was five times the size with a set of stairs carved in the center. A great statue of Xarbaal stood directly behind in full armor, its hands extended and head downturned to face the daïs.

  “Can you feel it, Akiri? The sacrifices. The blood. The lives. All stained into the heart of the stone itself. Behold the House of Xarbaal. Beyond the doorway is his domain. And there you must go.”

  “I see no doorway,” Akiri said.

  Yarrow’s laugh was soft. “You will soon enough.”

  “Why send me? Why go through all this trouble to bring me here? Why not go yourself? Or send a servant?

  “My power loses its hold in his realm. There, he is master, not I. My servants would be beyond my control, weak and afraid. I needed someone to go willingly. Someone strong. Someone without fear. Someone who could face the splendor of his realm and not go mad. I needed you, Akiri.”

  “So all this was to get me here?”

  “Of course not. I was to use the boy’s father. His courage and strength matched your own. But his defiance and guile were greater than I had anticipated. I offered him his son’s life in exchange for his obedience. But he was certain you would come and help him. He tried to deceive me, to make me think he had agreed. But I saw into his heart. I saw through his schemes. It was then, I saw you, Akiri.” His voice boomed. “And once I learned who you were, I knew that it was the will of Xarbaal guiding my hand.” His form lifted high above Akiri’s head, his arm spread wide. “Don’t you see? I was drawn to the boy by the power in his blood; power passed on to him by his father. The one man who could call on you for aid. A man of blood and death. A man bonded to a dragon.” His laughter thundered like a maniacal tempest.

  “And what of Rena?”

  “The girl? A happy coincidence. But proof nonetheless that Xarbaal was guiding you to me. She sought me out to avenge her sister. It was her determination to find me that attracted my attention. And when I peered into her soul, I saw your face staring back at me. She knew you.”

  The bounty, thought Akiri. Was that even true? Was she here for the same reason he was? Revenge? It didn’t matter. If he didn’t find a way to kill Yarrow, he would never learn the answer.

  “What is it I’m looking for?”

  Yarrow’s form drifted back to the floor. “I seek the heart of the Elder Dragon.”

  Akiri stiffened. He had heard the stories of the Elder Dragon. Kyra’s kind was a shadow compared to the power she had possessed. If this was what Yarrow sought, it could possibly be as dangerous as had been King Zemel’s desire for the Scepter.

  “And if I retrieve it for you?”

  “Once I have it, I have no further need of you or your companions. You will all be free to leave. You have my word.”

  “Then show me where I must go,” said Akiri.

  There was every chance Yarrow was lying; In fact, it seemed likely. Hopefully, within the realm of the dead, a solution would present itself. It was not much of a plan. But what else was there?

  Yarrow pointed to the altar. Akiri steeled his wits and crossed the chamber. As he walked up the stairs, a flash of blue light appeared, forming a door-shaped portal. Literally a door to the underworld, he thought.

  “The Elder Dragon will not give up her heart willingly,” warned Yarrow. “And she is cunning. Do not be deceived by her soft words. If you falter or show weakness, she will kill you.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “Only that you should move with speed. Where you go is no place for the living. Remain too long and you could become lost for all eternity.”

  Akiri had no intention of lingering in the realm of Xarbaal a second longer than he must. And there was no doubt the Elder Dragon would not simply hand over her heart. He stepped forward until he was but inches from the door. He reached out for Kyra one last time. I will return. He took a deep breath and stepped through.

  The world turned dark as a rush of wind roared in his ears. As it slowly died, it gave way to a dull gray light. A bitter chill, much colder than on the mountain, bit into his flesh with icy fangs. The furs he wore were almost no protection at all.

  The landscape gradually revealed itself to him. There was no color, only infinite shades of sickly gray and black shadows. It was as though all traces of life had been leeched away, leaving behind an empty husk.

  This was definitely the realm of Xarbaal, he thought.

  Yarrow had been absolutely correct. The living did not belong here.

  He turned to look back. The door was gone. A sensation of intense fear washed over him, one he was almost unable to control – so strong that he felt the urge to burst into tears. There was no joy; no kindness; only evil and pain.

  Akiri dropped to his knees, his hands trembling. I am lost. Forever. No one can help me. The light of the world shall never find me again. Eternal cold. Eternal death.

  A spark in the back of his mind penetrated his despair, and he latched onto it frantically. Kyra. He must save Kyra. He imagined her lying on the altar, looking at him, begging to be released. Gradually he fought his way back. He realized it was this place, this hell, imposing its will on his spirit. His hands steadied, and he pushed himself to his feet. Though still there was no color, the cold had lessened, and his mind was his own.

  “I will not be so easily beaten,” he muttered. “I will not succumb to fear.” His words were a command, one given to himself as if he were a mere recruit about to fight his first battle. He took a deep breath and peered into the gray. Where all had been formless, his surroundings now came into focus.

  Where the door had stood loomed a sheer cliff face that seemed to rise and rise endlessly up into swirling gray clouds set against the grayer firmament above. He ran his fingers over the rough stone, all signs of the doorway gone. A renewed sense of despair threatened to return.

  “He would not have sent me if I could not bring back his prize,” he told himself, as convincingly as he could.

  The height of the cliff made his choice of direction simple enough. The landscape ahead was a vast expanse of flat gravel, peppered with jagged rock formations that crept up into sinister talons. His boots crunched with each step, stirring up tiny clouds of dust that drifted up a few inches and then hung in the air, motionless, as if frozen in time to mark his passage. Thunder rumbled, the vibrations reverberating in his chest. But he knew there would be no rain. Not a drop of moister would ever fall here.

  Akiri plodded on. After a while, he tried to gauge how long he had walked. The land was unchanged, each rock he passed looking no different than the one before. Only a few minutes, he thought. No longer than that. Or had it been hours? He was beginning to lose focus again. The despair was seeping back in.

  “It isn’t real,” he said. “None of this. It’s all in your mind.” He closed his eyes and centered his thoughts on Kyra. She was his strength; the tether that kept him bound to the world of the living. He opened his eyes. Ahead he saw a faint blue light, pulsing evenly, as if its rhythm was set to a heartbeat.

  Akiri walked in a straight line towards the beacon, its color against a colorless background lifting his spirits and renewing his determination. This had to be what he was looking for. Akiri held tightly to
that thought as if it was his final hope.

  His heart pounded in his ears, the sound of his breathing like the rush of a gale wind. Even sounds in this place were unnatural. He stomped his boot into the loose earth. It boomed as if he had struck an enormous drum; impossibly deep, echoing again and again, fading away, then returning twice as loud as before. Then, like a candle flame in a breeze, it died in an instant. There was no time to dwell on these strange aspects of this cursed place. Still, he found that only with great effort could he tear his mind away from these oddities and focus on his task.

  It’s trying to trap you, he thought. The land itself seeks to keep you lost.

  The light drew nearer. But he could not recall renewing his advance toward it. Every second he spent here was robbing him of his mind, stripping even recent memories away. Another stray thought occurred… against his will.

  If this is the land of the dead, then why am I here alone? Surely, there should be others? Where are the damned?

  The light was only a few hundred yards away now. Had he come so far? Surely he had only seconds ago left the temple. How had he gotten here?

  Akiri began to discern peculiar shapes protruding from the ground, curved and much lighter than their surroundings. At first it was difficult to look at them, as if something was insisting that he not see. Akiri shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. No. He was still in control. He looked again. Where at first they had seemed small and insignificant, now they were towering and monstrous. Hundreds of skeletal remains. He recognized what they were at once: dragons. But of such a size that he could scarcely believe they had existed in life. Scattered chaotically among the barren land, their once-mighty forms had been reduced to a memory; ghosts.

  How long Akiri gazed upon them he did not know. It felt like minutes, but it could have been hours. He imagined them in flight, streaking across a cloudless sky, their wings pounding the air with power the like of which would make the gods tremble. He could feel their spirits surrounding him, their souls brushing against his own. As if a veil had been lifted, all his senses returned. He was whole. Even in death, they held great power. Instinctively, he knew that it was his bond to Kyra that enabled them to cleanse his spirit from the corruption of this place.