Vosper's Revenge

by Kristian Alva

  “Vosper is a madman,” said Islar. “He’ll do anything to destroy the dragon riders. He’s been trying to find you and kill you. Aren’t you the least bit worried?”

  Elias shrugged. “Worrying doesn’t solve anything. If this is my destiny, I’m not going to shrink from it. I learned that from Thorin. He was my friend, and he was always so calm and positive about everything. We were in so many close scrapes together, and I don’t remember him ever being overly troubled about anything. In the end, he died a hero. He gave his life saving someone else. I can’t think of a greater sacrifice than that. If that’s the way I have to die, then so be it. At least I know I would have died trying to defend the people and country that I love.”

  “I wish I had your courage,” said Islar quietly.

  “Give yourself some credit. You escaped Morholt without help from family or friends, faced off against two necromancers—and survived! And you saved Sela’s life. That’s pretty impressive if you ask me.”

  Islar smiled. “I guess I did pretty good, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you acted with bravery and honor, which is more than I can say for some people.” Elias glanced at Hanko and was going to mention something about his cowardice, but decided to let it go. “I’m proud to have you fighting by my side.”

  Islar’s eyes shone with tears. “Thanks. No one’s ever said anything to me like that, especially during my mage training. I was constantly punished for my mistakes, and praise was rare.” For the first time in his adult life, Islar felt valued and respected. “I promise I’ll do my best.”

  “I would expect nothing less,” said Elias.

  They continued in silence, following behind the others until they reached Ravenwood.

  Sisren contacted Elias telepathically. “We’re right at the forest’s edge. The sun will rise soon. Now would be a good time to stop and rest.”

  “Agreed,” said Elias, and the group swooped down into a wooded area. Ravenwood was exactly as he remembered, dark and mysterious. He recalled his travels with Thorin through this ancient forest. The pale, predawn light filtered through the trees, casting irregular shadows on the ground. In the distance, they heard the sound of animals fighting. First a growl and then howling, followed by a whimper.

  “I’ll go scout the immediate area,” said Sisren. “Don’t attempt to build a fire until I return.” She left, moving silently through the trees.

  “I feel like something is watching us,” said Hanko. “It’s making my skin crawl.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a yellow light crystal. “Liuhath!” he said, and the crystal glowed brightly.

  “You have nothing to fear,” said Elias “Ravenwood is safe, as long as you’re watchful. The animals here are nocturnal, so they’ll settle down as soon as the sun rises.”

  “How do you know so much about this place?” Hanko asked.

  “Thorin and I traveled through this forest while we were trying to escape Vosper’s bounty hunters. Sisren tracked us, and eventually captured us near the northern border. That’s how Thorin and I ended up in Miklagard.” Elias said it without anger or an accusing tone, but Hanko flinched slightly when Elias mentioned Miklagard. Elias knew that Hanko was remembering the attack in the catacombs when he tried to kill him. Hanko nearly succeeded, except Tallin intervened at the last minute.

  Hanko turned away, embarrassed. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his betrayal.

  Sisren returned a few minutes later. “The area is clear. I suggest we rest here a few hours and then continue on. We shouldn’t stay in one place for very long. It’s too risky.”

  “We should formulate a plan before we reach Morholt,” said Rali. “How are we going to enter the city unnoticed? Vosper has bounties on all our heads.”

  “Morholt is a fortress. There’s only one way in and out of the city: the front gate. The dragons could stay outside the city, and we could disguise ourselves,” said Sisren. “I’m fairly certain I could sneak us in that way.”

  I will not leave Elias’ side, said Nydeired. We cannot hope to defeat Vosper unless all of us stay together.

  “Well, what do you suggest?” said Sisren. “Fly into the city using a concealment spell? The noise from the dragons’ wings will give us away. And concealment spells don’t hide shadows, sounds, or smells.”

  “Actually, I know a protection spell that masks all those things,” said Islar. “I learned it during my training. It’s harder to maintain than other concealment spells because it’s elvish.”

  “Elvish spells were part of your training in Morholt?” asked Rali disbelievingly.

  “Yes, but I only know a few. Vosper’s personal grimoire included elvish and dwarvish spells.”

  “Let’s see the concealment spell,” said Sisren.

  “Okay,” said Islar. “I can’t hold it very long. Grifla-nei-la-rei!” he said, and promptly disappeared from view.

  He’s gone, said Charlight. I can’t smell him at all. It’s as if he truly disappeared.

  “There’s no sound and no shadow,” said Elias. “Impressive.”

  The air shimmered, and Islar reappeared, breathing heavily. “Did it work?”

  “Like a charm,” said Rali. “Could you teach it to us?”

  “Sure,” said Islar. “But, like I said, it’s exhausting to maintain. In fact, all elvish spells are exhausting. I practiced this one for months, and I can scarcely hold it for fifteen minutes. It’s even harder if you’re trying to conceal an additional person. I can’t imagine trying to conceal a dragon, especially one as large as Nydeired. It would be too difficult.”

  “The majority of Vosper’s troops have moved to Mount Velik to support the siege of the mountain. He won’t be expecting a direct attack on the city,” said Rali.

  “Are you advocating that we just fly into Morholt in broad daylight and attack?” said Sisren.

  “No, I’m not,” said Elias, “but Rali makes a good point. Vosper is a necromancer now. His powers are weaker during the day. He’s probably expecting a nighttime assault, if he’s expecting one at all. Instead of trying to enter the city in secret, we could fly right in and strike when Vosper is at his weakest.”

  “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! What you’re proposing is insane,” said Sisren.

  “It’s a suicide mission,” said Hanko.

  “Necromancers rest during the day,” said Islar. “They’re weakest when the sun is the highest in the sky, at noon. That would be the best time to strike. We can’t wait until nightfall. After the sun sets, Vosper becomes almost invincible. Not to mention that we still have two other necromancers to deal with.”

  “How do we kill them?” said Hanko, kicking a stump absently with his foot.

  “The only sure way to slay a necromancer is decapitation, dismemberment, or complete immolation,” said Sisren. “Even after a decapitation, it’s best to burn the body. Necromancers can survive grievous wounds.”

  “You killed Ionela by removing her head,” said Hanko. “If all of us worked together, couldn’t we do the same to Vosper? Surely our combined powers are strong enough.”

  “It’s doubtful,” said Elias. “Ionela tried to capture me alive. That’s the only reason I was able to get close to her. I cast a spell that paralyzed her, and Sisren cut her neck with an enchanted dagger.” Elias’ hand drifted instinctively to his belt, where he had tucked the precious dagger before leaving.

  “Elias and I got lucky in the desert,” said Sisren. “Ionela almost killed us both. Her power was beyond belief, and you can bet that Vosper is even stronger. The emperor won’t be pulling any punches with us.” Sisren crossed her arms over her chest and leaned up against a nearby tree.

  A gust of icy air swept through the trees, and several of them shivered against the cold. The trees bent in the wind, and dark clouds became visible in the morning sky. A fine mist started to fall, and Elias drew a heavy cloak out of his rucksack. The others followed suit, putting on warmer clothing as the skies darkened even further. The su
nrise would not bring any warmth today.

  “We have to catch him by surprise,” said Elias, “while he’s separated from the other two necromancers. Otherwise, we won’t have a chance. Vosper is our primary target. We shouldn’t risk engaging Uldreiyn and Uevareth unless absolutely necessary.”

  “Perhaps we can create a diversion and draw them out of the castle,” said Islar. “Sometimes Vosper sends his necromancers down to the market to snoop on his merchants. If we could instigate a fight or an explosion, then we might be able to coax Uldreiyn and Uevareth into the city and out of the palace.”

  “It’s worth a try,” said Elias. “My grandmother’s spellbook contains a number of illusions. They’re easy to perform. The illusions won’t fool a trained spellcaster, but they’re convincing enough for common folk. I could conjure a raging bull, a pack of rabid dogs, or anything else that would cause widespread panic. It only has to last for a short while.”

  “It’s settled then,” said Sisren. “We’ll attack Morholt at midday, after isolating the emperor. It’s not much of a strategy.”

  “It’ll work,” said Elias. “It has to.”

  “I hope you’re right,” said Sisren. “Because this is our only chance.”

  The Sapphire Blade

  Tallin heard two voices behind the wall: both female.

  “Please don’t hit me again,” came a whimpered plea. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked!”

  Tallin recognized the voice—it was Bolrakei, begging for her life. He heard a slap, and another, and then another. Bolrakei cried out in pain.

  “You worthless, puling, wretched dwarf. The boy was supposed to come here, not go to the Elder Willow! It was your job to lure him to Mount Velik. Twice he’s eluded us. Now he’s beyond our reach. Even Rali is gone. Where are my targets? What’s left? A bunch of dwarves and a few miserable elves! There’s no one here even worth killing! This trip was a complete waste of my time.”

  Tallin knew that Skera-Kina would kill Bolrakei if he didn’t hurry. He ran his fingers along the surface of the wall, desperately trying to find an entrance to the room, but there was nothing—no switch, no markings to indicate an opening. The wall was as smooth as a duck’s egg. How do I get in?

  “I tried my best, I swear it!” said Bolrakei. Another slap, and Bolrakei wailed.

  “You’ve made a giant mess of everything. I should have killed you months ago,” said Skera-Kina.

  “Please don’t!” Bolrakei screamed.

  Tallin stepped back, checking the floor for something—anything—that would indicate a secret entrance. In a corner of the room, he finally found a broken tile with a loop of copper wire underneath it. He pulled the wire, and the wall rolled away, revealing a tiny room that was obviously designed for torture.

  A chain and pulley system dangled from the ceiling, with weights attached at the bottom. There was a stretching bed, where a victim could be pulled apart. A series of barbed whips hung on the wall, ranging in thickness from fine wire all the way to heavy cable.

  In the center of the room, Bolrakei sat tied to a chair, her face purple and swollen. A rivulet of bright red blood ran from her nose. Her mouth hung open, and bloody drool ran from her lower lip. Several teeth were missing. She was still alive, but unconscious.

  Tallin didn’t step inside. The only sound was Bolrakei’s labored breathing. He dropped his concealment spell.

  “I know you’re here, Skera-Kina. Show yourself!” said Tallin.

  “So, you found me,” she said, materializing behind Bolrakei’s chair. “That’s a shame; I was saving you for last. All these others have been such tedious kills. Killing these dwarves has been child’s play—no more difficult than pulling a carrot out of the ground. Even the elf was easy to subdue.” She licked her lips. “I do enjoy a challenge, you know.”

  “Surrender now, Skera-Kina. You can’t hope to defeat me here.”

  “Surrender? You can’t be serious.” The sound of her throaty laughter filled the room. “I never yield. There is only victory—or death.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” said Tallin. He stepped back and drew his falchion.

  Skera-Kina smiled and placed her foot on the back of Bolrakei’s chair, near the small of her back. “Catch this!” she said gleefully, kicking the unconscious dwarf in Tallin’s direction. Despite Bolrakei’s substantial bulk, Skera-Kina managed to launch her high into the air, and Tallin was forced to either catch Bolrakei or step aside and let her come crashing to the floor. It was a smart play—if Tallin caught her, then he would be vulnerable long enough for Skera-Kina to strike.

  “Rhond-risa!” he said, while stepping out of the way. A shield came up, and Bolrakei bounced off it and then fell to the floor. She hit the ground, still tied to the chair, and groaned.

  “Nice job,” said Skera-Kina, stepping out of the torture room. She held a barbed whip in one hand and a spiked mace in the other. “Let’s see how well you fight without help from that overgrown lizard of yours.”

  Tallin ignored the insult and maintained his guard. Skera-Kina advanced slowly. She stepped over Bolrakei’s body as if it was a piece of trash. Without looking down, Skera-Kina stomped Bolrakei’s leg. Tallin heard a loud crack as her femur shattered. Skera-Kina smiled. “Mmmm… I never get tired of hearing that sound.”

  Bolrakei shuddered, but did not awaken.

  Tallin clenched his fist and swung, aiming for the assassin’s chin while simultaneously lashing out with his right foot. Skera-Kina hopped back, easily avoiding the attack.

  “Nice try, dwarf,” she said, raising her mace. She brought it down in a high arc, aiming for Tallin’s neck. He blocked the blow with his sword. With her other hand, she swung the whip at his legs. Tallin jumped back, but not before one of the wires struck his left leg, tearing open his pants and the back of his calf.

  “First blood is mine,” she said.

  Tallin felt the warm liquid running down his leg and into his boot. “Hekklaa!” he said. There was a loud boom, and Skera-Kina was thrown backward. She crashed into the wall with a thud, and then sprawled onto the floor. She shot back up, her face livid.

  “I’m sure that didn’t felt good,” said Tallin. He smiled at her and was rewarded with a furious stare. So… Skera-Kina doesn’t like being mocked, he thought. He decided to use the knowledge to his advantage.

  “Laugh while you can, half-ling. You won’t defeat me this time. I’ve removed my runestone. You’ve lost your advantage.”

  Tallin knew she was telling the truth. The black energy that he felt last time they fought was gone. “You underestimate me, blood-dog. I don’t need a runestone to defeat you.”

  “I doubt it. Let’s dispense with formalities, shall we?” said Skera-Kina, dropping her weapons. “Binvigi!” she said, and something hit Tallin with the force of a battering ram, sending him lurching backwards. His injured leg buckled, and Skera-Kina struck again. “Binvigi!”

  This time, Tallin was ready with a counterspell. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Traustt!” he said, and the attack spell dissipated in a shimmer. “Is that the best you can do?”

  Skera-Kina growled and threw a hail of fireballs in Tallin’s direction. He raised a shield and deflected them easily. Tallin returned fire, and she jumped out of the way.

  Skera-Kina paused, rubbing her fingers against the wall. “You’ve been a worthy adversary, dwarf. But as much as I’ve enjoyed playing with you, I think it’s time to end this. Did you want to know how I subdued Hanko and stole his dragon stone?”

  Tallin’s jaw clenched. “Not particularly, no.”

  “Our priests learned something. A dragon stone becomes a physical part of the rider, almost like another body part. That’s why you riders become such blubbering fools when your stones are removed. ”

  “You’re not telling me anything new,” said Tallin. “Aren’t you tired of listening to your own voice?”

  Skera-Kina smiled and drew a plain knife from her belt. The knife looked ordinary en
ough, with a simple wooden handle, except the blade was a brilliant blue. “Do you recognize this?”

  “Another poisoned blade? You Balborites are getting lazier and lazier. Are you going to use kudu oil for everything?”

  “No—it’s not poison. This knife is different. It’s a sapphire blade,” said Skera-Kina, lunging for Tallin. Her first swing missed.

  “You can’t harm me with a tiny knife like that. Even if it’s enchanted,” said Tallin, mockingly. Expecting another magical attack, Tallin raised a shield, leaving his left leg exposed.

  Skera-Kina buried the blade deep into Tallin’s thigh. Agony ripped through his body, so fierce and sudden that he lost control of body. He convulsed and fell to one knee. Skera-Kina grabbed his shoulder and shoved him down to the floor. She sat on his chest, while twisting the knife deeper and deeper into his leg.

  “Didn’t expect that, did you?” she whispered. “A dragon stone is a living gem; the stone doesn’t function away from its owner. In a way, the stone acts a bit like a drug… or a parasite. And it won’t tolerate the existence of another stone inside the body.”

  Tallin had no voice to speak. He had no strength to pull out the blade. The room spun; his body felt trapped inside a barrel rolling downhill. He could barely breathe.

  “Do you feel it? Your dragon stone is attacking the sapphire blade with all its strength; too bad the knife’s stuck in your thigh. As long as it’s inside your body, you’re powerless. Have you ever felt such pain in your life?”

  Tallin could feel darkness at the edge of his consciousness. He was defenseless. Skera-Kina reached down and tore the implant from Tallin’s chest. Tallin howled in agony as the stone left his body for only the second time in his life. Skera-Kina raised her hand in triumph, shouting her victory.

  Her triumph was short-lived.

  Carnesîr ran into the narrow room and hit Skera-Kina full-force, a crushing blow to the spine that sent her flying through the air. Tallin heard her muffled scream when her body hit the opposite wall. Her contorted body dropped to the floor, her spine broken. The dragon stone fell from her hand and slid across the room.