His relief was quickly replaced by anger. These majestic creatures did not belong here. Not in this forsaken land. They should be free. And if he could, he would see that they were.
“They must have been a wondrous sight to behold.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere.
Reflexively, his sword was in his hand. The sound of footsteps at his back had him spinning around, ready to face his enemy – whoever that might be.
There stood a robed figure, his face hidden beneath a deep hood, his hands folded at his waist. “Hello, old friend,” he said.
Akiri regarded the man for a long moment. “Who are you?” he demanded.
“Don’t you recognize my voice? Has it really been so long?”
Realization struck him like a fist to the gullet. “Cammaric.”
He pulled back his hood. “You seem surprised, Akiri.” His face was as colorless as the rest of this realm. But unlike the last time Akiri saw him, he did not bear the twisted scars and lifeless eyes of the undead.
Akiri shook his head. “Yarrow. What has he done to you?” The thought of his valiant sword brother consigned to an existence in this cursed place sent fury boiling through his veins.
“The same thing he has done to countless others, my friend. The same thing he will do to you and all who oppose him, should his plan succeed.”
“The heart of the Elder Dragon,” said Akiri. “That’s what he wants.”
“Yes. And he must never be allowed to have it.”
“But he holds your son. Should I not–”
“Giving Yarrow the heart will only doom him,” said Cammaric, cutting him short. “Whatever he has promised, he will not release his hold on Seyla. Nor will he allow the dragon to live. He needs her spirit to achieve his goal. Her essence will enable Yarrow to take on true human form. Seyla is the vessel he has chosen. All he needs now is the heart.”
Akiri could see the torment carved into his expression. “If I cannot give him the heart, how do I defeat him? Would you have me allow your son to die?”
“No.” His voice was a whisper. “But I cannot allow Yarrow to succeed. I’m sorry, Akiri. I should have been stronger. I was deceived into calling for you. And for that, I have paid dearly. It should have ended with me. I should have…” His voice caught in his throat.
“It would have meant allowing your son to become one of his,” said Akiri. “I am not a father. And I have not your kind heart. But I can understand protecting one’s blood. You are not to blame. You only did what you thought you had to do to keep him safe.”
A colorless tear spilled down his cheek. “Yet I failed to do so. My wife. My precious daughter. And now my son. All gone.”
“I cannot bring back your wife and daughter. But Seyla still lives. I will find a way to save him. I will find a way to kill Yarrow.”
“I dearly wish that was possible. But Yarrow’s life is bound to the Elder Dragon. He cannot die.”
“All things can die, old friend. Not even the gods are truly immortal.”
“What will you do?”
“First I need to find the heart. From there… I guess we’ll have to see what happens next.”
Cammaric smiled. “Some things never change. You are still a child of fate. Shunning and cursing the gods, yet trusting they will save you.”
Akiri smiled in return, remembering their often heated debates about faith and destiny. “No. I suppose I am the same man I have always been.”
“I wouldn’t say that. The commander of the Dul’Buhar would have never risked so much on a doomed quest. You may have lost your command and your home, Akiri. But you have kept your honor. And you have grown… as a friend, and as a man. Whatever happens, I am happy to see what you have become. It is so much more than what you were.” He paused and regarded his old friend for a long moment. “There is one thing I would ask of you: should you fail to kill Yarrow, do not allow him Seyla’s body.”
A chill ran through him. Akiri knew what he meant, even without being told explicitly. He nodded his agreement.
“Thank you. I will never forget you.”
Akiri gazed upon his friend and sword brother. He could still see him in his black leather armor, sword in hand, ready for battle. Ready to give his life for his country… and his fellow Dul’Buhar.
“You should go,” said Cammaric.
There were no more words which needed to be spoken. Not between them. Slowly his form became translucent. His sword brother raised a hand in a final farewell, and then faded entirely.
Akiri bowed his head in reverence. If any being deserved death, it was Yarrow. Now more than ever, he was determined to deliver it. He looked back to where the light still pulsed, the picture of Cammaric in his mind fueling his rage and lust for vengeance. As he moved toward it, he noticed a sound slowly building all around him. It was little more than a faint hiss at first, lost in the deeper silence, a background noise without meaning. But gradually it began to take on substance, growing louder and more defined.
The baleful cry of the rising wind mingled with the crash of waves hurling themselves against rocks. The light ceased to pulse, prompting Akiri to halt. It then grew brighter and brighter until he could no longer look upon it. He shielded his eyes, sword arm held defensively in front of him.
When the light dwindled, Akiri found himself standing near the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The sky was filled with massive thunderheads, a great tempest swirling at the heart of the storm. He moved to the edge, long gray grass around his ankles, and gazed out upon the maelstrom. The ocean roiled and churned, spewing mist above the precipice, but Akiri could not feel the moisture as it fell over him. Frothing caps that should have been white were gray stain on the black water.
An all-powerful roar descended from the clouds – so mighty and jarring that it caused Akiri to take several steps back before he could steady himself. Just above the surface, a great mass of black ichor appeared, spinning like a diseased whirlpool, bubbling and spitting as it turned.
From within the heart of the storm, a gargantuan shadow appeared. Akiri caught his breath. The Elder Dragon. Never had he beheld such beauty, such raw majesty. None of the tales came close to describing her. He wanted to reach out, as he did with Kyra, to touch her mind, her heart, her spirit. The urge was overwhelming. But something was wrong. She was falling freely, her wings tucked in tight. Flames started to dance from her flawless scales and spread over her entire body. It was then he noticed, gripped in her talons, the tiny figure of a man. He was flailing and pounding his fists uselessly against her hide. In seconds, both were cloaked in fire streaking toward the blackness below. Akiri cried out. But there was nothing he could do but watch as they vanished into the darkness.
He felt as if he would weep. His heart ached to have witnessed this tragic loss. A jewel of the world had been stolen. It was as if he were a child and had witnessed his mother dying. He somehow knew that it was his bond with Kyra causing these strong emotions, but knowing the reason was no salve.
“And thus, I died.”
The voice was strong yet distinctly feminine. But so distraught was Akiri that it took him several seconds to realize someone was there. And even when he did, it took a moment longer for him to react.
Standing a few yards to his left staring out over the sea was a woman. She was tall – as tall as Akiri – and wore black armor made from a metal that carried with it an unnatural shimmer, as if it were not crafted from earthly material. Her dark brown skin and black hair reminded Akiri of the people of the far east, beyond the desert kingdoms. In her hand, she carried a blade of simple make. Yet, like the armor, the steel radiated an inner light.
Akiri forced himself back into the moment, shoving aside his grief. “Who are you?” He knew the answer. But his mind could not comprehend the truth of it.
“I can see why she bonded with you.” The woman turned and smiled. She was beautiful, and powerful in a way that reminded him of Rena. In her eyes, he could see that she held great wisdo
m and knowledge that could only come with a life spanning many ages.
“If you are… she, why are you…”
“In human form?” She laughed softly. “Like everything else here, I am but a spirit. A specter. I appear as you choose to see me. My body has not existed for a long time.” She looked down at herself and nodded. “I must admit, I am pleased at the form you have chosen. Most see me as a man.”
“Others have come before me?”
“Many others. Yarrow has been trying to escape since the moment he arrived.”
“Yarrow has escaped,” said Akiri.
“No. He is still here, caught between worlds. I had hoped that bringing him into this empty realm would be enough to contain his evil. But I was only partly successful.”
“Empty?”
“Xarbaal is trapped in his prison, placed there by Mishna herself. If he were here, you could have never made it this far. Your soul would have been burned to cinders the moment you arrived.” She looked over her shoulder and gestured behind them. The barren wastes he had crossed were now visible, the bones of the dragons rising up from the ground. “This is the resting place of the damned, Akiri; those poor souls whom Yarrow has corrupted. Forever cursed to wander. Separated from hope.”
“Can’t you help them?” His thoughts turned to Cammaric.
“I have done all that I can,” she replied, with a mournful sigh. “I prevent Yarrow from tormenting them once they reach this place. But my power has limits here.”
“What if Yarrow is destroyed?”
“If only you knew how many times I have been asked that question. Yarrow cannot be destroyed. His life is bound to mine. And I am afraid that I cannot die willingly. To kill Yarrow, you must kill me. And not even one such as you can do so.” She approached Akiri and placed her hand on his cheek. Her flesh was hot almost to the point of pain, yet gentle and comforting. “You are strong, Akiri. I know what you are willing to sacrifice. But you must turn back. Yarrow’s evil must be contained. He can take all the bodies he wants. Eventually he will become weak. He will be forced to return here to gather his strength.”
Akiri thought he understood. “But will he not try again?”
“He will. And he will fail again. Not even the spirit of… what is it you have named her?”
“Kyra.”
This drew an approving smile. “Yes. Not even Kyra’s spirit will sustain him. It will merely delay the inevitable. His only hope is to bring my heart into the mortal world. Should that happen, he would gain what he has sought all his life. And the mortal world will be cursed to an endless cycle of death – a never-ending storm to feed his hunger.”
Akiri finally grasped what Yarrow truly wanted. He could see past the lies.
As if reading his thoughts, the Elder Dragon stepped away and met his eyes. “Now you see. The son of your friend is to be his vessel, made immeasurably stronger by Kyra’s spirit. And with my heart, he would be immortal. Because he cannot take it himself, he sends you.” Her expression darkened. “So, I tell you again: turn back. You cannot save your friends. But you can save yourself.”
“I cannot.”
She lowered her head. “Very well. Like the others, you are brave. And like the others, you will not be deterred. Know that I will take no joy in your death.”
A light appeared in the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a thin white pedestal atop of which rested a blood-red gem. Its innumerable facets captured the light, reflecting it in an array of splendor that sharply contrasted with the dull gray surroundings. The heart. It was as large as a man’s fist; too large to simply shove into his pocket or inside his shirt. Which meant he must first defeat the Elder Dragon before taking it.
She stood motionless, her eyes downcast, sword held loosely at her side; waiting. Akiri knew that this was a foe unlike any other. He had faced men and demons and creatures of such power as to freeze the courage of the most hardened warrior. He had felt overmatched before. But never like this. This was no mere woman wielding a blade; no mortal foe of sinew and flesh. Doubt crept in. Not from fear. But he knew that regardless of the outcome, it would be a tragedy. Should he do as she told him and turn back? No. If there was even the slightest chance to save Kyra and the others, he must take it.
He touched the flat of his blade to his brow and imagined the gods watching the spectacle from some lofty perch. His hatred for them matched that which he held for Yarrow. Surely, they could intervene. But they chose to do nothing. No prayer could sway them to act. They would allow the Elder Dragon to languish in desolation for all eternity. They would allow the souls of the brave and the innocent to wander a realm of death in hopeless sorrow.
Akiri charged, bringing up his sword in a sweeping strike. It wasn’t until the very last moment that the Elder Dragon moved to block the blade with her own. Akiri leaned back to avoid her counter. Still, the tip dug deeply into his chest. Ignoring the pain, he thrust hard, twisting his torso and throwing out his left leg. The heel of his boot made firm contact with her ankle. It was like he had kicked solid granite. She stumbled back, a look of surprise on her face.
Akiri rushed in, attempting to use this to his advantage, but her surprise was short lived. She stepped to the side, avoiding being skewered, and parried with a blistering series of strikes. Akiri was only able to deflect the first few before one found its target, leaving another deep cut on his right shoulder.
Rather than let himself be driven back again, he ducked low and stabbed at the Elder Dragon’s feet. An old trick, but effective. She leapt away, just as Akiri’s blade buried itself in the ground. But her upper body leaned awkwardly forward. Akiri planted his shoulder into her gullet and pushed with all of his strength. He grunted under her weight, which was far greater than her form suggested and dangerously slowed his movement. A blow to the back of his skull nearly sent him into unconsciousness. But he still managed to lift her from her feet, and together they slammed hard to the ground. The pressure of his shoulder should have robbed her of breath, but she appeared unaffected, and released a savage punch to his temple that sent him rolling away, dazed.
He sprang up and spun, arm extended. The Elder Dragon was just where he knew she would be. Her speed was enough to save her from serious injury, but as she ducked under the deadly steel, Akiri could feel the impact to her scalp through the sword’s hilt. A glancing blow, but enough to draw blood.
The Elder Dragon rolled out of reach and took several steps back. She touched the wound and rubbed the blood between her fingers. Her lips curled into a vicious snarl and her eyes glowed bright yellow, like twin suns. A flood of rage poured into Akiri. At first he did not understand. It felt much like when Kyra conveyed her feelings through their connection. But this was not coming from Kyra. It came from the Elder Dragon. The sheer force of her mind burned into his skull like a thousand hot needles.
The Elder Dragon’s expression changed from one of fury to one of utter shock and alarm. “I… I feel you. How is that possible?”
Akiri let out a primal scream as her thoughts penetrated him completely. Thousands of years of memory raged through him all at once. Pain, joy, loss, triumph, age upon age of experience. Then burning. Falling. Dying.
“No!” Akiri’s voice thundered like a dragon’s roar.
The Elder Dragon looked confused and afraid. “I cannot… I must not… you are... the one who will… Akiri!”
Akiri tore at his skull, ripping free handfuls of hair and staggering from side to side, desperate for the pain to stop. All the wounds received, all the tortures endured, were pleasures compared to this. He tried to draw back, but there was no escape.
Neither of them saw the light flickering near the pedestal.
The Elder Dragon dropped her weapon. “I cannot fight you.”
The blast of fell lightning struck her in the center of her chest, hurling her body more than twenty feet. Three more blasts followed in rapid succession, shoving her again and again, her body digging a shallow trench in the earth.
> Yarrow walked up to Akiri with easy strides and lifted him to his feet. The pain was fading and his senses slowly returning.
Yarrow had form now. His face and body were that of an old man, bent and weak. But the strength in his grip told a different tale. He flashed Akiri a grin, then moved toward the Elder Dragon. He thrust out his arm, and more lightning leapt from his fingertips. The Elder Dragon wailed and screamed, raising her hands in front of her face.
“It’s over, beast,” shouted Yarrow, with utter triumph. “I have won. Surrender.”
She struggled to her knees, her face a mask of defiance and hatred. “Never.”
Yarrow looked over to Akiri. “Take the heart. While she is weak. Do it now. Hurry.” He returned his attention to the dragon and renewed his assault. Her human body shimmered with each attack, growing and transforming until her true form was revealed – a dragon of such size and power that even the gods would weep at her magnificence.
The horror of what had just happened tore at Akiri’s soul. He had been sent to weaken her. A distraction, nothing more. Those who came before him had fought to take the heart. But Akiri had the one thing they did not: a link to Kyra. Through this, he had touched the Elder Dragon’s spirit. Never before had she experienced such a bond. And for good reason; the connection had nearly ripped Akiri apart. She was far too powerful; too ancient. When it happened, it had confused her. And when Akiri’s essence was a part of her own, she could not bring herself to kill him. In that moment, she had become vulnerable. Yarrow had been waiting – ready to strike.
Akiri could still feel their connection, albeit faintly. Yarrow was now laughing at her pain, relishing every moment of his victory. A portal opened just beyond the pedestal where the heart still rested.
“Take it!” Yarrow commanded. “Save your friends. It’s the only way.”
Akiri: Dragonbane Page 25
