World's End

by Will Elliott

  ‘Of course you do, I remember. You visited me when I was captured. And? Out with it, have you seen something to bother you? Have the half-giants left their post?’

  ‘No, Aziel. They make so much noise it disturbs the lower staff. But it’s … Invia, Aziel.’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Lots have been flying around. Around and around. Lots! A cloud was thick with them. They descended. And … we thought there was with them … something … bigger.’

  ‘Everything is so frightening to you. You probably saw a storm cloud.’

  ‘It had wings, Aziel. It flew around, wheeling as a bird would, then went south with great haste! So terribly large.’

  ‘A dragon?’ she laughed. ‘It couldn’t have been a dragon. Shilen shall forewarn me when they are coming down. Unless it was her that you saw. Was the dragon white?’

  But Ghost had departed from the window as if something had frightened it away. Something moved behind her in the window’s reflection. She screamed, turned. Nothing was there. For a brief instant she’d have sworn her father stood behind her. Vous. She remembered so clearly now his blazing eyes full of hate, his bared teeth. But of course he wasn’t there.

  Something softly brushed her cheek. A pink-white flower petal fell at her feet. A small rain of them poured down, caressing her hair and upturned face with gentle touches. She looked for the source of them, but the little shower ceased as quickly as it began.

  38

  RIVAL LORDS

  Eric had begun to think of himself as Shadow. Why not choose his own name? He was free. Had he really, truly mourned his nine-to-five life? His sitcom existence, making half-witted wisecracks as if expecting a laugh track to play in response? How much like slavery that life appeared, looking back on it from the skies aboard his drake. The lands and cities before him seemed a majestic sculpture, one he no longer had a desire to leave.

  For now the wars had ended and a strange silent inertia replaced them. The roads seemed safe from brigandry, even though there were no roadblocks and patrols. People no longer moved about with secrecy – strangers on the road greeted each other, shared food with one another, and tales. Wherever Eric went people seemed to know him, and to love him. Hard men looked at him as if he were like them, as though he’d seen all the war they’d seen. He began to believe it too.

  People asked him of Otherworld, along with many other questions. The sort of questions one might ask a god. He amused himself with creative answers for a time.

  But soon the questions began to bother him, and he was unsure why. With time he discovered a kind of contempt for these people. Most of them were wiser than he, more virtuous, harder working, braver. Yet in a moment they handed their trust to him, and pinned their hopes on him, someone no better than a stranger. They read wisdom he’d not intended in every remark he made.

  The sky now and then sent shivers down through its far-flung walls to shake the ground. It spat down lightstone pieces: little pebbles or fist-sized rocks. With more pressing concerns at hand – food in bellies, roofs overhead, rebuilding – no one paid much heed to it.

  One day Eric thought that the country beneath him, of cliffs and natural pillars, looked familiar. He’d seen before that line of strange, rib-like mountains and that shimmering river threading through them. He knew where they were – these were the same skies the war mage had carried him through. Elvury City was not far, the last place in Levaal still infested with Tormentors. Or so tavern talk claimed.

  He spoke into the drake’s ear. Case wheeled to the south.

  Below them now was the pass, littered with broken skeletons in armour and castle colours. Birds still picked through the mess, their calls echoing up the sheer cliff walls. Eric remembered watching this slaughter, filled with numbing horror.

  Case came to rest atop the city’s high gate. Here he’d shot the war mage so eager to serve him. There below, sure enough, stood a widely scattered group of Tormentors, no more than a dozen of them. Now and then the occasional sweep of their spiked arms shifted them to a new pose of their strange slow dance. Many buildings were half burned down, the ash scattered, but there were no fires burning in the city now. Distantly through the buildings one or two huge Tormentors could be seen standing motionless along the river.

  Case sighed as if deeply saddened by all this. He rested his head on his forelegs and slept. His snores softly growled like an idling motor. Eric patted his neck then gazed down at the dead city. Why did I come here? he thought, and it was something he couldn’t answer. He felt a pang of peculiar nostalgia for those times when this world was so new and horrifying to him. How he wanted to reach a reassuring hand back through time and say, It will be all right. It will be better than you’d ever guess.

  Case needed rest, so Eric stayed awhile gazing out at the city which Shilen would have him believe he and Aziel now owned, or at least controlled. Silent tears filled his eyes. An hour or more passed, the day fading to evening, the stillness only broken by the shivering rumble of dragons in the skies pushing against their cage … a sound which could easily pass for distant thunder. Somewhere there would be a rain of broken lightstone; maybe great slabs of it were beginning to come down. But although pieces littered the city and valley, none fell here now.

  Wheeling into Eric’s line of sight across the eastern sky was a shape his eyes took at first to be a bird. But it was too large for a bird. A rider’s silhouette could be made out against the grey-white sky behind.

  Case stirred in his sleep. Eric knew then that what flew over Elvury was not another drake, but a dragon. Its tail fluttered like a streamer behind it; its wings were held still and at an angle. With suddenness Eric found alarming, the dragon swooped down to the city below, down and up again in a fast long arc. Many times it dived. Eric found his hand closing about Hauf’s amulet.

  Nearer the dragon swooped, till its rider’s cries could be heard. And the voice was familiar. Why Eric should laugh to recognize Kiown, he didn’t know. But he did laugh, just as though he’d found an old friend.

  Kiown and his mount were now close. They swept down to the area called the siege grounds, the dives so fast they were a blur. Each time the dragon came up from its arc, the falling pieces of a shattered Tormentor had not yet hit the pavement. Before long all those Tormentors visible below had been broken to pieces. All the while Kiown cried out and whooped in joy.

  Eric called out to him. Shocked to hear a voice, Kiown stared around. When he recognised Eric, his laugh echoed and clattered through the city’s emptiness. ‘Lord Eric!’ he cried. Dyan swept a circle in the air above him.

  ‘My name is Shadow.’

  ‘Lord Eric, inn-finder. World-stumbler-inner. Um … drake-rider? What else can we call you? What other feats of great renown have you to your name now?’

  ‘Vous is a god now,’ Eric called. ‘The change has happened.’

  That got Kiown’s attention. He landed Dyan on the gate some distance away, spoke quiet words to the dragon. It peered at Eric with curiosity and amusement, then went still as a statue, eyes closed. Case woke up, bounded over to it and fawned before it. The dragon opened one eye to peer at him then shut it again.

  Kiown marched over, twirling a chained piece of jewellery on his finger. ‘Do you like my steed?’ he said. ‘Never in history has a dragon like this been a man’s steed or servant. They’ve banished him. He serves whoever holds this amulet. Dyan doesn’t care, he was sure the big ones were going to eat him. A supply of human women and he’s content. You’re looking well, Eric. Not lordly by any measure. Fed, at least. Met any dragons yourself?’

  ‘I have. Just one, Shilen.’

  ‘Ah, yes, I know her.’

  Eric was taken aback. ‘How? She said she was my advisor. Has she been going back and forth between us?’

  ‘Sure has. I doubt she thought we’d meet up and speak like this. She knew we were opponents in the past. She also knows how men usually behave when thrones are at stake. Dragons are sometimes surpri
sed, Eric, by how much a human can break out of what they consider typical behaviour. We are not as predictable as they think us to be.’

  ‘So you’re my rival lord of the south that she spoke about. The one who’ll claim my throne, if he’s more “worthy” of it. Have it, if you want. It’s yours.’

  ‘If you’re giving it away I don’t want it,’ said Kiown. He leaned his forearms on the wall and gazed down at the steep cliffs fencing in the valley filled with skeletons and carrion birds. ‘Since you’re here, I’ve got to ask you something. Why did you spare me that day, on the tower top? You know, when you claimed Nightmare reached down to touch you.’

  ‘I’ve asked myself that too. I still don’t know.’

  ‘Consider the favour returned here and now.’

  Eric reached for his gun. ‘Don’t be so sure of that.’

  Kiown laughed. Then he moved, fast. Eric found he was upside down, the blood rushing to his head, the pavement directly beneath him. Case growled, but with a look the dragon held him there. ‘How about now? Am I sure yet?’ said Kiown. ‘You spared me, I’ve spared you. Do you agree?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Eric pressed the gun into his chest to keep it from falling, clutched tight to the charm in his other hand. Bits and pieces fell from his pockets.

  ‘We, my friend, are now even. And since I have your attention, let’s negotiate. Dyan and I shall clean up this city. We slay the Tormentors, even the big ones. Then I get to keep it. You and your squad of half-giants don’t seem inclined to tromp over here to clean it up. So, Elvury’s mine. It’s my capital, my base of operations. Got it? In a few years I’ll allow you to put agents here, but I say who comes and goes. No fighting over it. It’s a trading centre. My house, my rules. Understood? The rest of the map we’ll discuss another time.’

  Eric could hardly think with the blood in his head. Kiown’s grip on his shins was firm. ‘Talk to Aziel.’

  ‘Fuck Aziel. Assert yourself!’

  ‘Fine, take it.’

  ‘This city’s not where I’ll live, understand. The haiyens will build me a tower. They found a way to kill dragons. Even the big ones. Have you noticed the lightstone falling? The haiyens will help us with that minor problem. Say nothing to Shilen about it.’

  ‘Kiown, let me up, would you?’

  ‘Soon. You have something to say?’

  ‘We have a chance to make a new world. At least until the big dragons come down and probably kill us all.’

  Kiown hefted him back up, set him on his backside. Eric allowed a minute for his spinning head to ease, then said, ‘Why do you want to play the part of villain, just because Shilen asked you to? They’re using us both. We’re doing a job for them.’

  ‘Here’s the beautiful part.’ Kiown crouched down beside him, made his voice a whisper to hide it from Dyan. ‘I can’t do a job for them.’ Kiown showed Eric his amulet. ‘Giving this to me was a big mistake. I am loyal to Vous. Even now. Even though I know it’s mind-control. All my life I never knew it was mind-control. Now I know, but it hasn’t changed things. You saw him? Is what’s said about him true? Does he dance and toss flowers?’

  ‘Apparently. Loup said he may be the god of beauty.’

  ‘Whatever you call him, he’s Vous. He is a god. I therefore work for the gods, not the dragons. Eric, here is the gist of it: Shilen wants us – humanity – divided into two competing empires. I can play along. She told me the same thing she probably told you, that this power is mine to use as I like, freely. What if I want to use it to help rid the world of dragons? There’s a way to do it. The haiyens of the far south said so.’

  Eric looked at him, startled. ‘I think we have the same idea. Shilen said I rule freely, but she told me to stop them from waking Inferno. I’m going to let them do it, if they haven’t already. See how free we really are.’

  Kiown winked. ‘Send word to your queen or lady or whatever you call her. This city’s mine. I mean it. No one comes here until I’m ready, not unless they want to fight Dyan and the army I’ll soon bring here. War benefits neither of us right now. Don’t tell Shilen we spoke.’

  ‘Will Dyan keep your secrets to himself?’

  ‘He won’t tell her. He’s got no friends now among the dragons; they hate him. He came here to do a job for them but frolicked instead. Humans are all he has left. We’ll talk later about the other cities, who gets what. And remember, don’t ever take all this too seriously. Whatever messages I send you in the future, even if it’s a declaration of war, always remember this: we play the game as co-operating opponents, with agreed rules. Never as true enemies.’ Kiown stood, yawned, stretched.

  ‘I don’t want any wars in the game,’ Eric said. He pointed down at the valley full of skeletons. ‘We’re not creating that. I don’t want that on my head for any reason.’

  ‘So you just handed me your throne again.’ Kiown sighed. ‘Listen. Blain’s right about some things. Power is a game. Life is too. Serious games. But there’s no reason they can’t be fun. Look at those skeletons down there. None of them were mind-controlled like I was. Every one of those men could have dropped his sword in the dirt, refused to fight. Had all of them done it: no war, no lords. A world instantly born without such things. This is what those dead men wanted. They marched into this valley because they wanted to, whether for money or loyalty to a lord or for their own glory. I can’t promise you we won’t ever war. If we do fight, it will be a show for Shilen’s benefit, not mine or yours.

  ‘But that might not matter. Keep an eye on the dragons. There may be something we can do about them. Sooner or later they’re coming down here, Eric. And it could be sooner.’ As if to demonstrate, there was again a thunderous rumble, a faint shiver which they felt in their feet. Pieces of lightstone – no more than a few handfuls – rained down into the valley and into the city, clattering on rooftops and cobblestones.

  Kiown went back to Dyan and climbed aboard. ‘Till next we meet, O Eric the Dangled. If ever. We never spoke today. We hate each other’s guts, understood? You never quite know when she’s watching either of us. She usually doesn’t bother, but I think she checks in now and then. There are some advantages in being considered an insect and beneath notice. Am I right, Dyan?’

  Dyan did not answer. His scales glittered. He leaped skywards then they dived so fast he was only a blur of colour.

  39

  CLAIMING THE CITY

  It took another two days to find and slay the last of the smaller Tormentors. A few perhaps remained underground, though they seemed to prefer the extra stimulus of the surface world. There’d been no sign of people other than a small gang of treasure hunters who came through the south gate the previous day, perhaps former citizens of this place come to seek prized possessions, theirs and others’. The fight had been nothing special. They’d barely got their amazed gobs shut on sight of a dragon before Dyan had dealt with them. Their flesh would prove useful.

  Dyan landed now on a luxury home’s rooftop: the compound below was replete with gardens and fountains which still tossed trickles of water around. Someone important had lived here. They had a good view of the river and of the massive Tormentors standing motionless along its banks. Dyan wanted a rest before attempting combat with them. He sat with his neck arched back regally, long tail curled around him, gazing with narrowed eyes towards the river.

  ‘What’s the difficulty?’ Kiown asked him.

  ‘Their time play pulls at me,’ the dragon replied. His voice held a hypnotic rumble. He’d lately fashioned it to sound like that of a cultured elderly man.

  ‘You’ve only fought the small ones so far. Was it the same with them?’

  ‘For them, it’s easily overcome. The large ones will have more pull. It is unusual magic. More a mistake of reality than actual spell craft. You had better not fly with me for these battles. There is risk.’ Dyan’s scales bled through several colours as he eyed his prey, considering strategies.

  Kiown sighed; the thrill of riding at those enormous spiked dem
on-things was something he’d long been anticipating. He said, ‘Do be careful.’ Dyan was a priceless gift, perhaps the greatest gift any human had ever owned. For a so-called Minor personality his magic was versatile and potent; and he flew faster than any of the other dragons. His speed was the main reason they’d sent him down to do their work, as the first free dragon. Kiown said, ‘Do you dragons have a fondness for jokes?’

  Dyan pondered his question at length. ‘No.’

  ‘What, never? You never laugh at one another?’

  ‘I have heard no laughter among the Eight, not with the kind of humour familiar to you.’

  ‘I just wondered. Because the dragons picked Eric to be my opponent in this system they’re devising. It’s a gift.’

  ‘Why did you not slay your rival?’

  Kiown laughed. ‘You jest. Eric’s a fool, an idiot. Sentimental for starters. Why would I kill a rival like that? May he live long and prosper. He gave me this city.’

  ‘Are his words binding?’

  ‘With a little help from us, they shall be.’

  He twirled the precious amulet on its chain. Dyan enjoyed gazing at it as much as he did, conscious of its power over him but intrigued by it regardless. Most of the object’s other powers Kiown was still discovering. Certain situations seemed to unlock them: conversing with the haiyens in their high tower, for instance, his knowledge at times had elevated well beyond its norm. He’d understood at a glance the nuances of their body language, had known the meanings of the symbols adorning their homes and garments.

  It had been quite a sight for them to see Dyan wheeling through their skies. Long generations had passed with no sign or hint of dragonkind. But landing there in their home city with no forewarning had been a mistake. Delicately the haiyen assigned to speak with him had made the point: Kiown had come exceedingly close to a quiet, uneventful death. Every haiyen he’d seen in those high levels could have slain him with a thought while he was still in the sky.