“It's just so damned frustrating!” Loric fumed, pacing up and down. “I bet if Eilidh were here, she could tell us in a second how to get through. She’d probably be having a good laugh at the pair of us, too!”
Calandra, stood calm and still in her pristine, if slightly sand blown, white robes. She raised an eyebrow and gave a crooked half-smile as she paused in her prayers for guidance.
“Indeed, child, neither of us are experts in magical matters. Perhaps-”
She was unable to complete her thoughts as Loric pointed to the sky with his sword and shouted, “Look!”
Approaching fast - impossibly fast - was a red dragon. Such was its speed that the two onlookers did not need to be magic experts to recognise a Haste spell in force.
“It would seem there is something faster than a silver, after all,” Loric teased. “Oh please!” Calandra said, rolling her eyes and somehow managing to control her rising panic. “Every silver nestling learns the Haste spell almost as soon as they can fly! Ah...a silver dragon under the power of Haste...now that's fast, but it's cheating. You can draw lines in the sky with vapour trails, but that's all it's good for, really. Fine for flying in a straight line, but who wants to do that? It's so boring. Takes about half an hour to stop, too!”
Loric had no time to wonder at the clearly `Silver Callie` mode of speech being used by `Revered Daughter Calandra` as he latched onto something she'd just said. “Hang on...that's no vapour trail it’s leaving in its wake...that's smoke!”
“Smoke? How can it possibly...hey that looks wrong...that looks very, very wrong!” Calandra shivered. “Its tail is on fire! But that's impossible!” There were three sets of five species of dragon on Majaos. Each of those five was born with a magical breath weapon. Obsidian dragons such as Loric, along with black and brass dragons could spit corrosive acid, while silvers like Callie, plus blues and sapphires could send forth a bolt of lightning at will. Golds, rubies and reds, however, possessed the most destructive weapon of all - they could breathe fire. Another quirk of magic was that dragons were immune to anything related to their own breath weapon. Early human scholars reasoned that this natural trait made sense; otherwise a dragon might accidentally kill themselves with a sneeze. Callie was therefore immune to electrical storms. This was useful given a silver's natural habitat of high places in hot, steaming rainforests where thunder and lightning were commonplace events. While most dragons would be all but grounded by such weather, silvers along with their chromatic and jewelled counterparts, had nothing to fear from being struck by lightning. In fact they would be energised by it. This phenomenon also explained why otherwise weaker, ice-and-frost-spitting white dragons thrived in the far north, such as around the city of Avidon: they were not simply immune to the cold, they thrived in it - a distinct advantage for a reptile. By the same token, then, fire-breathing gold and ruby dragons were completely impervious to all forms of heat and fire...and so were reds. By all known laws, for a living red dragon to be on fire was, as Calandra rightly said, impossible.
“Impossible,” Loric agreed, gruffly. “But then again, so is the concept of a dragon predator.”
Calandra didn't like that connection at all. The red was now close enough to identify as a mature male, sporting ugly gashes along its flanks, blood mingling with the smoke. His manner suggested Loric could be correct in his implication. Clearly terrified, the red dragon was straining every sinew in addition to his Haste spell Calandra thought he was getting remarkably close to some of her own speed records. This dragon was normally a vicious hunter– now he was prey.
Suddenly, the air shimmered on the ground just behind the dragon and a huge reptilian form materialised into existence. It was something like a dragon, yet clearly not. Loric was big by dragon standards, but this creature was at least two-and-a-half times his size. Its body was proportionally leaner than a dragon's would be at that size, but its front appendages were jointed differently, more like arms than forelegs. Its sandy-coloured scales were smaller than dragon scales and appeared to lie flat like a honeycomb, where a dragon's scales interlocked three dimensionally so that they were raised up in the direction of the tail. Sharp spines formed a double row down its back, either side of its central backbone. When they reached the tail, they merged into a single row and became gradually smaller down to the very tip. The great lizard's head was a round, bony scalp that gave way to a kind of beak, lined with hook-like teeth designed for tearing and rending flesh rather than chomping great chunks of meat from an animal's hide in dragon style. That was consistent with Calandra's observations of the dragon corpses. The creature had wings, which were not designed for flight, but would allow it to glide through the air and cover dozens of dragon lengths with a single springing step. The hind legs were perfect for cushioning the impact of its landing, as well as naturally taking the animal into its next jump without loss of momentum. In this way, it could effortlessly achieve great speeds over long distances. And, apparently, it could become invisible.
Loric threw himself at Calandra, knocking them both to the ground and covering them with sand. The giant lizard leaped up at the red dragon, only to be foiled when the dragon winked out and reappeared a few dragon lengths back. Red dragons were intelligent and highly gifted in dragon magic. The Spatial Displacement spell was extremely difficult to pull off accurately, but whether by skill or good fortune, he got it spot on, timing it just right to rake his claws along the creature's back as he flew on. The giant lizard let out an ear-splitting shriek as spines snapped and blood spilled from its wounds. It could do nothing about the attack because its wings were only capable of smoothing its descent - it could not fly up higher to get at its intended prey or change direction to avoid the onslaught. The dragon was flying more slowly than he had been, since it was impossible to maintain a Haste spell through the Spatial Displacement, but again the intelligent red used that to his own advantage. The instant the predator sprang at him once more, he recast Haste on himself and shot forward. Even so, as it glided after the fleeing dragon, it managed to bite at his sensitive, flaming tail. Red scales rained down upon the desert sands as the dragon bellowed in pain and fury. With a combination of cunning, speed and magic, the red might have escaped, but it was obviously unfamiliar with the territory, as it flew headlong into the magical shield.
There was a sickening thud and a crackling of energy as the dragon's magically enhanced momentum was brought to an instantaneous halt. The red was lucky not to break his neck...or then again perhaps he would have considered himself lucky if he had. The predator folded its wings and dropped almost vertically to land on top of the struggling dragon, crushing it once more against the shield. Dazed, the dragon fell to the ground, struggling to clear his head and get to his feet. He had no chance.
Wasting no time, the predator started ripping and tearing at the red with its front claws and tried to bite his neck. The red fought instinctively - all thought of magic or cunning vanished from his panicked mind. He unleashed a huge and powerful jet of flame from his jaws, but the fire faltered before it touched the giant lizard, as if it had thrown up some kind of protective shield. But it was more than that. This strange force changed the fire and flung it back at the red dragon, searing his face. His bellow of agony was unlike anything either of the onlookers had ever heard from another dragon. His cry cracked and bubbled as his scaly skin melted in the intense heat. Blinded and driven wild by his pain, the once proud and arrogant red's resistance faded into feeble thrashings. The predator's jaws clamped around his neck, compressing his windpipe. The red dragon thrashed once more...twice...then faltered...and finally he lay still.
An immortal red dragon - the most powerful creature, the most feared living sentient being in all the world, the top predator - had been hunted down and killed. Now it was nothing more than food. For the first time in his long life, Loric - the famed Black Dragon of Avidon - was terrified. Normally so quick to the fight, here he was considering flight...Flight! That’s it!
Focuss
ing on his idea helped Loric to hold back the terror. With a clear run, a fast natural flyer with a Haste spell could surely outpace even this monstrosity, especially with a head start. “Callie, listen,” he whispered. “You weren't exaggerating about your flying speed, were you?”
“Certainly not!” She hissed back, indignantly. “Why-?”
“Shhh! I hope not, because I'm about to put you to the test.”
“What-?” “Callie, you were right. I’ve put you in danger and I’m sorry. You've got to get out of here. Your only chance is to fly. Fly as hard and as fast as you can - and then some - with the best Haste spell you can conjure up. Fly to Shakaran - the mortals there were well prepared for battle and the Knights have strong barracks with their silver and blue dragonriders. This thing can't fight an entire city.”
Calandra wasn't so sure. “But what about you?”
“Didn’t you see? It can't get through the shield! All I have to do is move a couple of dragon lengths to my right and I'm fine.”
“But as soon as I change to dragon form,” Calandra objected, “that thing could be on me before I even get in the air and then it's going to take a bit of time for me to get to full speed!” “I know. That's why I'm going to buy you some time. I'll bet it's never fought an obsidian dragon before. No fancy tricks of magic, just my powerful muscles, my sharpened claws and my razor-like teeth. You think the Black Dragon of Avidon is famous now? Just wait 'til they hear about this fight!”
“I don't like this!” Callie complained. “You can't fight this creature even as a distraction - you don't know what it can do!”
“It doesn't know what I can do!” “No, Loric, don't do this. You have to do what you came here for - the power of the Elder Dragons. Then you might have a chance, but not here, not now. I beg of you, please, think about what you're doing.”
“There is no other way,” Loric insisted. Without another pause for breath, he sprang from his hiding place and transformed to his dragon form. It was Calandra, not Callie, who stood, and called out, “Yes, child, there is another way - just one!” With her hand on her clerical symbol, she prayed with all her strength. Hold Creature was the name of the prayer and Patrelaux answered her. Loric was paralysed.
The giant lizard had been initially quite startled at Loric's sudden appearance. It glared and sniffed the air. Perhaps, as Loric had said, it had never seen a dragon of Loric's colour before and was trying to decide for sure whether he was a dragon at all. That momentary pause was all-too-brief, before it screeched and leaped for the immobilised Loric. It was fast, but Callie was faster. The flash of her silver scales as she shape-shifted seemed to blind the creature, causing it to miss its target by a few hundred feet. Skimming the ground with her flight, Callie crashed headlong into Loric and her momentum carried both dragons forward, tumbling through the shield. Callie struck her head, the impact jarring her neck painfully and transmitting through her body. From the pain, she was sure something vital had snapped. She slid to a stop at a strange, awkward angle. She couldn't fly away; she couldn't even stand. There was no point anyway, that abomination of nature would be upon her at any moment once it realised the shield was passable at ground level. But it didn't matter. It could only get at her; it couldn't go where Loric had gone, teleported away to the realm of the Elder Dragon of Fire. It had been the right thing to do. Her life must be sacrificed so that Loric could gain the power to kill this thing.
Only one last thing to do, as her world went mercifully black: she prayed that her All-Loving Father would accept her soul into His Eternal Embrace in Paradise.
Chapter 8
Phaer's first indication that he had crossed the boundary into dark elf territory came as he was suddenly surrounded by a dozen elven guards, each with an arrow pointed at him. There was no way for him to resist even if he'd had the energy to try, which he didn't. He had managed to stop the bleeding, but he was still very weak.
Their cousins in the ancestral forests called them dark elves, for they had given themselves over to Darkness and had therefore been expelled from the Light. Most people of non-elven race confused the term dark elf with those such as the Supreme War Master, Drizdar, and other elves who embraced the magic and worship of Divine Mortress. In other words, a dark elf was an elf who was aligned with the Dark.
The way elves used that term, however, was quite different. Young forest elves were encouraged to travel all over Mythallen, making friends and associations with people of other races, and discover their own path for themselves. Not only did it help their youth to grow in maturity and experience, but it also served to create the bonds that reflected and strengthened the more formal ambassadorial and diplomatic relations of their elders. While it was true that most forest elves were aligned to the Light, there were those who followed other paths and that was part of the natural order. Most forest elves firmly believed that `Light was Right` but to try to enforce that would be to create conflict.
As a rule, the forest elves abhorred conflict and violence, although that did not stop them being prepared for war. Their defences remained strong, ever ready to repel any invader. It was simply that they did not go out into the world to seek out and destroy all their potential enemies.
The dark elves were altogether different. Even Drizdar, the most prominent and powerful of forest elf servants of the Mistress of Death, hated and cursed them. Drizdar was well known for his penchant for vaporising anyone who referred to him as a dark elf.
Dark elves believed their path was the One True Way. They believed that it was fundamentally impossible for different races to live in peace with all their differences. Therefore the only way to achieve a lasting peace was for the Master Race to rule over all others. Their law, their world, their way. And one day, they believed, they would have it. In Ancient times they had been beaten back and forced to retreat - through duplicity and betrayal, of course, not due to any failing on their part. But one day they would rise up and take the world and reshape it according to their design.
The dark elves had long ago rejected the social order, setting themselves above nature, above the world. They believed that elves were superior to all other races. In fact, they believed themselves to be the only truly sentient race in creation. The other native races of Majaos were little more than cattle and as for humans, well, the dark elves considered them more like a disease, a cancer that had infected the world. The only thing that was arguably worse than a human was a half-elf. Half-breeds in general were an abomination. Still, with other races, such degeneracy was only to be expected. Elves really ought to know better.
If humans were a disease, then human-elf couplings were the equivalent of people deliberately infecting themselves. These individuals were obviously insane and under dark elf law, the elf concerned would be slaughtered along with the human partner and any half-breed offspring.
The dark elves had created their own religion, dedicated to `returning the world to its original, and intended state`. In other words, back to when elves were the only people, the only race on Majaos. Of course, in reality, even that far back in history, there were dragons, too, but when they were the rulers of this world, there were things that could be done about dragons.
This is what caused the forest elves to banish their dark elf cousins in legendary times. To act so violently against the natural evolution of Majaos was beyond shocking. This was not merely a different philosophy, but something much darker and far more dangerous. It was a desire for destruction on an unparalleled scale. Not only destruction of life and culture, but of nature. They wanted to reverse all the progress that had been made and once they had achieved their ideal world made in their own image, they intended to bring about status quo. Absolute, eternal stagnation. Even the wisest forest elves knew not what the result would be.
In the days of powerful chronomagi, the ones called prophets tried to use their Temporal magic to simulate possible futures for the world. One of great academic interest was the path the dark elves would choose. The mages sa
w many terrible things down that path, setting them down in the form of prophecy but what about after the dark elves achieved their goals? What did magic see then? Prophets were much feared in their day, but their answer was the most frightening thing ever to be heard from their lips.
“We see nothing.” By this, they did not simply mean that they could not see what was there. Nor did they simply see a gap. What exactly they did mean, no-one ever understood - not even the prophets themselves. What they saw was real, tangible. They could almost touch it as one can touch the wind. But it was not wind. It was nothing. It existed, yet it was nothing. The paradox was never explained.
The dark elves clung still to the traditional elven belief that they were all merely following the path of destiny. They were just pebbles in a great river, but according to their forest cousins, dark elves had forfeited their right to exist in the world, precisely because they had taken themselves out of that great river. Still, they would not press for the destruction of the dark elves, for that, too, would be against the natural order of the world. So in the end, they approached their dark elf cousins in the same way as any other potential threat: they prepared and they waited, hoping that the battle would never come.
* * * * * An elf whom Phaer had once known all too well, stepped within the circle of guards. It was T'lar, one of the most important members of the House of the Fountain. In theory, T'lar answered to the Sovereign, but in practice, he was more-or-less in sole charge of the day-to-day affairs of not only his House but the entire dark elf city.
“Well, cousin,” T'lar said. He spat the word `cousin` as a curse. “It is so...good to see you again.” The look on his face said otherwise. If they were human, Phaer was sure T'lar would have struck him. But they were not human, they were elves and elves did not touch those without honour. Those such as Phaer. It wasn't a question of what Phaer had done to lose honour - he had been born without honour; he had been born, that was crime enough.
Consequences (Majaos Book 2) Page 8
