by D. H. Dunn
She could nearly run her fingertips across the curved ceiling as it sped by. She swung the Hero’s sword in a quick strike.
The centuries-long history of the Line led to this moment. All the deaths, all the sacrifices. Val and Reylor. She wielded the sword with hands that were soaked in the blood of the Line, all to bring the one moment into being.
Her blade shattered the crystal, undoing Orami’s work that had stood for millennia. Light poured from the fractured artifact, the air shaking with the thunderous explosion.
All around her the magical, azure chains unraveled, the bound limbs and wings suddenly free and shooting through the air toward the body of Terminus.
One of the wings moved faster than she expected, crashing into her and the Thread and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Landing with a heavy impact that was partially cushioned by the Thread’s bulk, she could feel the tremors as each limb and wing slammed back into the huge body around them.
She ducked just in time to avoid one of Terminus’s heads as it flew through the air past her and onto the torso. The other head soared in from the opposing hallway, large enough to knock a surprised Kater and the Voice down as a pair.
Tanira held her breath, waiting for the sense of the mighty Terminus’s sentience to come into the Helm, her father having warned her many times about the depths of the power she would have to bring under her control.
This pause was interminable, her fingers itched as she gripped the sword. Everything in her cried to move, to act. Yet she waited as she had been taught, listening in her mind for the faint malevolent spark that would denote the great Dragon’s awakening.
She waited as the Thread flopped unsteadily on the ground, injured from its fall. She waited as Kater and the Voice resumed their hostilities, the pair evenly matched.
She waited as the Worm kept the Manad Vhan man pinned to the wall, struggling as he protected the Yeti and Upala behind his shield.
Something was wrong.
Tanira pulled herself to her feet, trying to focus on all the plans, all the studies she had been forced to memorize and recite.
Terminus appeared limp and unmoving, the twin heads and long necks lying useless on the ground. There was a hole in the front of the torso, a part of the beast still unfilled.
What have I forgotten?
Tanira looked at the northern hallway, a short, dark space where she could faintly make out two small figures wrestling with an object. Whatever it was, it was trying to escape their grasp, straining in the direction of the inert Dragon.
There was a glare of white light coming from the forehead one of the two, the Caenolan girl she had seen on the bridge.
She cursed to herself. That meant the other one was Nima.
Tanira limped toward the passage. The only thing left had to be some part of Terminus, and all that stood in her way was the Caenolan girl and Nima.
She drew the Hero’s sword and headed toward them.
The hallway was short, but her progress was slow. It challenged her to keep her focus on the three Dragons she controlled, Kater was testing her limits. Her senses were split, both in the darkened passageway through her eyes, and flying around the chamber, seeing through the Thread’s.
Nima stood at the back of the passage, half covered in shadow. Her stout form crouched, her legs set wide as she struggled with the vibrating object in her arms. The heart of Terminus, desperate to get back to its body.
The Line’s end goal, all her life.
Next to Nima, the Caenolan girl pushed her back against the wall, looking as if she wanted to melt into the shadows. Nima’s eyes locked on Tanira’s, her stare communicating all that had gone between them. Tanira could see the anger there, but it was subdued. She knew Nima did not want to fight, but she also knew Nima was not going to give up the heart.
Her mind brought her back to the cave from her father’s training, cold water rising around her, forcing her closer to decisions she did not want to make.
She took another step closer, taking a moment to direct the Dragons again, trying to flank Kater from behind with the Thread while he dealt with the Voice.
She was unable to gain an upper hand against Kater, but she was managing to keep him busy while still keeping the Voice and the Thread alive.
Another step and Nima was within the reach of her weapon. She raised the Hero’s blade above her head.
A part of Tanira, some tiny fragment of herself, lost in a damp cave her father had sent her into, prayed that Nima would drop the heart. Just drop the heart. Please. Don’t force me to do this.
Yet Nima would not release it. There was no point in asking her to. They were locked in place, her trust in the Line had brought her to this point and left her with no room for any other decision.
She began to bring the sword down when she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. On instinct, she whirled to her left, her arm and sword in motion as she turned. The girl was there, the Caenolan; she was reaching for Tanira, trying to stop her from hurting Nima.
Tanira froze the blade, stopping within a hand’s width of the girl’s neck. A memory flashed into her mind.
She had been here before, on another mountain. In another world, she had cut down another innocent.
A young man who had looked similar to this girl, down to the big, dark eyes with the glowing crystal between them. Someone who was only trying to protect his friend. Her friend.
She whirled the Voice around Kater’s fire, trying to hit him from behind.
She had laid his neck open without a thought, spilled his life and his future on the snow in the name of the Line. Like so many before him. Person after person, each of whom had done nothing to her but get in the way of what she had been taught to do. What she had been taught she must do.
Upala was starting to rouse, adding her strength to the Manad Vhan man’s shield. She sent the Worm into the barrier.
What must she do? Once Terminus was reformed would she use it as she used all her weapons? To kill in the name of an idea, to kill those she had been told to hate? And what if others opposed her? Would she kill them all too? Was that all she did?
Kater pushed back, trying to wrestle free of the Voice’s attack and reach her. She raised the Thread, the injured creature limping back into battle.
She had been hanging from a precipice when Nima came along, her life granted to her by a stranger who said she helped because it was the right thing to do. Who helped her, knowing nothing about her, unaware she was the End of the Line.
With one swing of the sword, she could kill this girl and then Nima, restore Terminus. Use it to wipe out the Manad Vhan. That was the plan. Hundreds of more throats cut, thousands. And when it was done, when there were no more throats . . . what then?
The Worm faltered, the pair pushing their shield back against it.
Tanira’s insides clenched. What is restored?
The Voice flailed out of control as Kater’s fire drove it down.
What will be gained?
The Thread collapsed onto the stone floor of the chamber, unable to press on through the pain.
What is my one life for?
“What have I done?” Tanira dropped the Hero’s sword, the hilt clattering to the ground. She released the Dragons as she dropped to her knees, looking up at Nima. The woman strained to hold on to the pulsing heart of Terminus.
“I-I am so sorry.” Something was happening in the other room, but Tanira could not focus on it. She lost track of the Dragons, of the Manad Vhan, even of the Caenolan. All she could see was Nima, the one person who had been kind to her without reason, and the person she had taken so much from.
“It is . . . it is all right,” Nima said, the strain in her voice clear. Her arms shook, but she maintained her grip on the heart. “We can talk about it. Maybe you can help me understand-”
Tanira was knocked off her feet, crashing into Nima as the Voice suddenly streaked into the room. Tanira saw the heart of Terminus suspended in the air fo
r an eye blink as Nima lost her grip on it, then it blurred out of view as it streaked toward its destination.
“No!” Tanira shouted, twisting and trying to regain her footing. She felt a pulse of power, a fresh wave of invisible energy that tore through her and ripped the strength out of her.
From within the central chamber she saw a growing explosion of ebony mist, a smoke that consumed the light as it filled every inch of the Vault.
Left in complete darkness, Tanira could hear the labored breathing of the Dragon, Nima and the Caenolan behind her. All as frozen as she was. A voice came through the black, a sound that seemed to be part of the shadows themselves, deep with power and malevolence, speaking a single word that echoed like thunder throughout the Vault, the very stone vibrating.
“Reborn.”
Chapter 24
As the rumbling of the voice of Terminus gave way to a silence even more frightening, Nima found she had to focus just to start breathing again.
She peered through the black mist that had filled the hallway, Tanira kneeling on one side of her and Lhamu on the other. The substance felt like wet smoke, it stuck to her and made her feel sweaty and weak. Weaker than she already felt.
The voice that had come out of the smoke could only belong to Terminus. Nima wished she knew more about the Dragons, but she could hear the fear and worry when Terminus was mentioned, even by Kater. She didn’t need to see through the dark vapors to know that danger was there, she wanted to know what else was hidden by the darkness. Who had survived.
She cast a quick look at Tanira. The woman stared straight into the darkness, the helm cradled in her hands. She sobbed slightly, yet she looked angry. Nima supposed she was angry with herself. There was so much she wanted to say to Tanira, she was angry too. Of course, this wasn’t the time.
From inside the mists swirling through the central chamber there were new sounds. A huge, deep vibration that sounded like an avalanche was coming, which Nima came to guess was simply Terminus breathing. There were other sounds, claws on stone. She didn’t think the claws belonged to Terminus, they sounded smaller.
She glanced behind her, remembering the golden, thin Dragon that had collided with her and caused her to drop the heart.
If only I could have held on to it!
The back of the passageway was now empty, the golden Dragon had crawled out as soon as Terminus had awakened.
“Can you sense anyone?” she whispered to Lhamu.
She wasn’t sure if Lhamu could, but the girl closed her eyes. Nima reflexively threw her hands over Lhamu’s crystal just before it blazed with increased intensity. Just because they couldn’t see through the mist didn’t mean Terminus could not.
“The Speaker,” Lhamu said. “He is hurt, he cannot move. He can see Drew and Upala. He thinks they are alive, but they are not moving. All the Dragons are in the center with . . . that thing. They are kneeling to it, he says.”
“The Yeti sees this?” Tanira asked.
Nima nodded, Tanira rubbing her back with her hand and wincing. Nima wondered what had happened to Kater, guessing he might have run down to join Drew, Upala, and the Speaker.
Even lost in the shadows, Terminus had a presence Nima could sense. It reminded her of Sessgrenimath, yet this was angrier and more menacing. Sessgrenimath had seemed vast, but only threatening in a vague sense, like a storm on the horizon.
The threat of Terminus was as clear as the dark vapors all around her.
“Why free this thing?” Nima whispered to Tanira, incredulous. “You had the other Dragons, weren’t they enough?”
“It was the plan of the Line,” Tanira replied back, her tone dripping with regret. “In case I lost control, or, I suspect, if I lost my nerve. The others, they do not hate the way he does. Terminus will destroy the Manad Vhan, revenge against them is all he cares about.”
“But without your control, he won’t care who else he kills,” Nima whispered, glaring at Tanira.
“Look.” Lhamu pointed. “I see something.”
Nima could see nothing for a moment, but Lhamu had already proven her Caenolan eyes were sharper. Then she made out darker shapes forming inside the mist, the vapors transitioning from black to a deeper gray. A huge, dark shape dominated the center of the room, vast wings unfurling to form a second ceiling.
As more detail emerged she could see Terminus’s massive back, a wall of dark crimson scale and muscle that faced them. His long, thick tail curled up and coiled by the entry to the hallway they huddled in.
There were many large shapes gathered around the great Dragon, the beast a mountain surrounded by lesser peaks. She could see the four smaller Dragons with their heads bowed to the floor as well as many large pieces of rubble, destruction caused by the shockwave of Terminus reforming.
“Subjects.”
She could feel the Dragon’s voice in her bones, it made her head ache. She ducked even lower, Lhamu doing the same. She could see Tanira gripping the Helm, her hands shaking.
“Sire.” A new voice, higher and more conflicted. “I speak for the others. We are here to serve your will, your bidding.”
“The Thread,” Tanira whispered, a mixture of anger and respect in her voice.
Terminus let out a grunt, the force of which sent dust and small pebbles falling from the ceiling.
“My bidding? I know your heart, Thread. Your only care is your quest to expand us, to add to the clutch. I tolerate you because you are useful. You tolerate me because you cannot achieve your goals if you are dead.”
Nima froze. Terminus’s back was to them, but if he turned, if he saw Lhamu’s crystal. They would be trapped, with five Dragons coming at them. Her heart pounded, as if she were on a teetering ice pillar in the Khumbu Icefall. There would be one moment, one second where movement might save her, but this was not it.
“We understand each other, sire,” the Thread’s voice came back, echoing through them. Nima guessed the Thread was the Dragon Tanira had spent the most time with, the one that had attacked Drew and charged at Lhamu. It was surprising to hear it so humble. Terminus clearly didn’t like it.
There was a shudder than ran through the stone, Nima just barely able to see the huge front leg of the great Dragon pull one of the lesser ones forward. This one was brown, and wider than the others. She thought she could hear it whimper, it was clearly trembling.
“Weakness, however, I do not need to tolerate. I hear your yammering, Weight. Your fear sickens me and there is no need to tolerate it further.”
“Sire.” The Thread’s voice again. “Perhaps if you would-”
There was a sudden sound unlike any Nima had ever heard, a wet ripping sound. Whatever Dragon Terminus had grabbed, it was torn in two.
Nima watched in horror as one half of the beast dropped onto the floor not far from the entrance to their hallway. Lhamu scampered back at the impact, fluid and entrails flying out of the corpse in every direction.
“Voice, Worm, Thread.”
The voice of Terminus rattled in Nima’s teeth. The fear inside her was growing, yet there was nowhere to go. Nothing they could do. “You three will be sufficient. Once the regional populace has been cleansed, we can restore the others. Those who are worthy.”
“Sire, there are others in this place. Rakhum, Manad Vhan. Here in the Vault, one of them helped free you. I suggest we-”
“You suggest, Thread? Do you wish to join the Weight? You think I have slept so long I have forgotten it was you, Thread, who allowed Orami and Feram to put us in this place? To dismember and imprison me? Do you think my memory so short?”
Lhamu stirred next to Nima, her hands coming to grip around Nima’s arms.
“I know you have not forgotten, sire. Yet there are one or two Manad Vhan here who might-”
Terminus’s response was sudden and so filled with anger Nima nearly jumped.
“I care not for one or two. I crave dozens under my feet, hundreds in my throats, the remains of thousands upon my claws. We will rain ou
rselves down upon those outside the mountain and then. . . when there is nothing but the crows left alive, we will go to the City of Sands and remind the Manad Vhan who made them. Who they dared to rise-”
The Dragon stopped, one of its heads turning around, looking left and right. Nima pushed Lhamu down onto the floor and into the shadows, falling with her and lying flat upon the stone.
“What is that itch in my mind?” Terminus growled. “I know your touch, Thread, it is not your insidious weaving. This is smaller, cruder.” The head that was not speaking continued to twist on its long neck, now angling more toward the hallway in which they hid.
“Lhamu stop,” Nima whispered in a panic. “Whatever you are doing, stop. He can sense you.”
“I’m trying,” Lhamu cried softly. “He’s so big, so hungry for death. It’s like he’s pulling me to him. I can see his mind, he wants to kill… everyone. Manad Vhan. Rakhum. Yeti. Even the other Dragons.”
“I cannot allow this,” Tanira said suddenly, her voice deep even in her whisper. She stood, holding the Helm out in front of her. “This is my doing, the Line’s doing. I must correct this, somehow.”
Nima grabbed her arm, trying to pull Tanira back down.
“Tanira no, you can’t!” She might be angry with the woman, but this would be suicide. Tanira couldn’t possibly control that thing with Kater’s helm, it was too huge, too powerful. “It’ll kill you. You’ll die.”
Tanira wrenched her arm away from Nima, holding the Helm over her head. She looked down at her, Nima seeing the eyes of the woman she had run laughing through the forest with.
“I have been dead most of my life, Nima.” She pulled the Helm over her eyes. “Thank you for the few days I was alive. . . and had a friend.”
The crystal on the center of the Helm blazed to life at Tanira’s command, the twin heads of Terminus turning toward it. Too late, Nima lunged for Tanira, her hand flailing for her cloak but grasping only air.
