Nightfall

by Den Patrick

  ‘What have you done to me?’ roared the Emperor.

  Did you never wonder why I chose this, Volkan? Silverdust tapped his mirror mask with one finger. It seems you still have much to learn. Allow me to provide a lesson. Silverdust flung his hands forward and two painfully bright motes drifted forward. The Emperor dived behind the throne to avoid the searing light.

  ‘There is much that I have learned while you were on the island, Serebryanyy!’

  Steiner looked on in horror as the corpses surrounding the throne twitched and jerked. One by one they dragged themselves to their feet. Silverdust immolated one with a fiery blast from his outstretched palm. The undead husk staggered on, until the flesh was burned away and the bones came undone and collapsed.

  Steiner, be careful!

  Another husk lurched forward but Steiner was already swinging. The sledgehammer removed the jaw from one husk before slamming into the shoulder of another, shattering bones. Steiner lashed out with a kick to open some space between himself and the jawless husk, before unleashing his backswing. The husk’s skull caved in and was sundered from the body altogether.

  ‘This I can do,’ muttered Steiner as the husks surrounded them. The Emperor had shifted his attention to Felgenhauer, attempting to petrify her with his stony gaze, but the former Matriarch-Commissar was far from defenceless. She reached out to the sundered body parts using the arcane, and flung them at the Emperor, breaking his concentration. The Emperor flinched with every shattered limb, and blinked as each burned appendage slammed into him.

  Steiner was swinging hard. He smashed husks in the face with his elbows when his attackers drew too close, buying himself the extra moment he needed to line up his next strike with the sledgehammer. Beside him Silverdust was strangling the unlife out of the undead with hands that burned white hot.

  This is not my teaching, Volkan! This is an abomination!

  ‘Abomination!’ shouted the Emperor. ‘Let me show you abomination!’ The doors behind the throne opened and more husks trudged forward, bony claws outstretched.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Kimi

  In the end, for all of his talk about dominance, Bittervinge adopted the tactics of his enemies. He adopted the idea of taking allies.

  – From the memoir of Drakina Tveit, Lead Librarian of Midtenjord Province

  The skies above Khlystburg sounded with a thunderous commotion of scaled bodies, vast wings, and scything claws. Kimi experienced a brief moment of excruciating terror as Namarii flew straight towards the father of dragons. Her every limb tensed and she hunkered low against Namarii’s neck. Bittervinge approached, his wounded, partially petrified face snarling.

  Ready the Ashen Blade. Namarii’s voice was loud inside Kimi’s head. Now!

  Bittervinge reached out with taloned feet to grasp Namarii and rend him into pieces, but Namarii folded his wings. For a moment they dropped from the sky and Kimi’s stomach lurched. She drew the enchanted blade from the sheath and stabbed upwards just as Namarii flared his wings and surged forward. The Ashen Blade opened a long and jagged scratch along Bittervinge’s underside; flecks of grey ash trailed after the dagger. Kimi’s arm rattled and shook as the blade scored a winding line of atrophy a dozen feet long. Bittervinge contracted around the source of his pain, coiling so hard his tail whipped past Kimi’s head, nearly dismounting her.

  Did you cut him?

  ‘No more than a scratch,’ shouted Kimi above Bittervinge’s deafening roar. ‘But it seemed to do something …’ Her vision swam for a moment, and the city below her appeared shockingly intricate. Namarii’s scales burned with all the colours of autumn, irresistible yellows and fiery reds. Even the air tasted better, intoxicating as it filled her lungs.

  It was enough. Namarii performed a sharp turn and sped back towards his prey. If we can land a telling strike, a piercing strike, we will prevail!

  ‘Take me closer!’ bellowed Kimi, almost delirious with enthusiasm. The Ashen Blade thrummed in her hand, calling out for blood.

  Tief and Stonvind collided with a young dragon with silver scales. Tief was shunted forward in the saddle, but he’d tensed his thighs and threw up an arm as the sky was filled with buffeting wings and coiling tails. Somehow he managed to hold on to his sword. Talons swiped and jaws snapped on both sides. Smears of red flicked through the sky, blood on the wind as battle was met. The silver dragon was more slender than Stonvind, but had a wiry strength all the same. The monstrous reptiles were locked together, their wings beating furiously lest they plunge to the ground. Each wrestled and strained against the other for the better position. The silver dragon huffed down a great lungful of air and the scales near her throat shimmered with a ruddy light.

  ‘Själsstyrka?’ shouted Tief, remembering the dragon that had helped Steiner escape back on Vladibogdan. ‘Is that you?’ The young dragon hesitated, allowing Stonvind to grasp her by the throat and turn the full force of his arcane gaze upon the creature. Silver scales turned to grey and then fractured and split as the dragon shook violently, desperate to be free of Stonvind’s grasp.

  ‘Själsstyrka? You’re on the wrong side!’

  A silver tail whipped around and Tief ducked beneath it, but the sinuous appendage slapped Stonvind across one eye, breaking the dragon’s concentration and his grasp.

  Själsstyrka! That was what the Cinderfell boy called me! The silver dragon retreated. But I am no man’s pet.

  ‘I’m not asking you to be a pet!’ shouted Tief. ‘I’m just saying you’re on the wrong side, you big idiot.’

  Själsstyrka continued to put some distance between herself and Stonvind before coming about and gaining some height. It was clear the silver dragon would strike again.

  ‘So much for diplomacy,’ muttered Tief.

  Big idiot? replied Stonvind. You call that diplomacy? He beat his wings hard to match Själsstyrka’s altitude.

  ‘Let’s teach this shiny runt a lesson,’ grunted Tief.

  Flodvind dived to one side, avoiding the onrushing dragon that approached with bared teeth and outstretched claws. It was a dark shadow made in the image of the father of dragons. Taiga thought she saw the same maddened gleam in its pale yellow eyes.

  Witless fool! Flodvind made her thoughts about serving Bittervinge clear as her opponent raked her with obsidian-coloured talons. The azure dragon shuddered in agony and Taiga held on to the saddle as hard she could. The younger, black-scaled dragon attempted to gain some altitude and escape a riposte, but Flodvind was already turning. Her head lashed forward and she caught the younger dragon’s tail between her jaws.

  ‘Steady now!’ warned Taiga, clinging on to the saddle. Flodvind shook her head from side to side like a wolfhound dragging its prey, gaining height all the while. Taiga leaned from the saddle and cut down with the sickle, missing a wing but scoring a deep cut in the younger dragon’s tail. The impact of such a strike jolted the curved blade from Taiga’s hand and the weapon tumbled away.

  ‘No!’ she shrieked. Flodvind snatched the weapon from the air with one of her rear feet and broke away from the young black dragon; streamers of blood filled the sky as its tail was almost ripped off entirely. Fiery breath surged after them and Flodvind rolled so the torrent of flame washed over her underside, shielding Taiga in the process.

  ‘Oh goddess,’ breathed Taiga as she looked to one side and saw the ruined city hundreds of feet below. Flodvind righted herself in the air, speeding forward with deft beats of her wings, then came about in a long graceful curve.

  ‘Shouldn’t we stay focused on that one?’ shouted Taiga.

  They are but distractions.

  Taiga opened her mouth to object when the vast bulk of Bittervinge appeared before them, shaking and coiling in the air as if scalded or burned. Flodvind clamped on to the father of dragon’s back with three taloned feet, then unleashed her fiery breath towards a ragged and infected wing. Bittervinge howled so loudly Taiga wondered if the sound might carry back to Sundra in Shanisrond.

&
nbsp; Kimi was leaning forward in the saddle, shaking with exhilaration. She watched as Flodvind latched on to the back of the father of dragons. Her senses were alive in a way they had never been before. She saw every scale on the pair of dragons, obsidian black and stunning blue; could count every ripping talon. And the smells! Scorched flesh, the iron tang of blood, nervous sweat, and beneath everything the rotting stench of a dead city.

  ‘I must kill Bittervinge,’ she hissed.

  Hold on, Your Highness! Namarii launched himself towards the larger dragon just as Flodvind breathed fire over a wounded black-scaled wing. The father of dragons snapped his great jaws at Flodvind, but he had not taken his eye from Kimi and the Ashen Blade.

  ‘He knows we can finish him!’ shouted Kimi ecstatically. Bittervinge swiped with his talons at Namarii, but it was a feint. The father of dragon’s tail followed the initial strike and slapped hard against Namarii’s flank. Kimi was shunted from her seat, slipping past the powerful draconic shoulders until she hanging from the front of the saddle by one hand, unwilling to let go of the Ashen Blade.

  ‘Kimi!’ shouted Taiga from no more than two dozen feet away. Kimi could only gasp as she struggled to hold on. Flodvind bit into the base of Bittervinge’s skull and the father of dragons lurched away from Namarii. An awful breathless moment passed and Namarii rolled on one side so Kimi could remount the saddle. The muscles in her arms burned with the effort.

  ‘Again!’ she shouted. The elation she had felt after using the Ashen Blade against Bittervinge had faded, leaving her hungry for another chance to score a wound. ‘Again!’

  ‘Can’t believe this little arsehole sided with Bittervinge,’ complained Tief as Själsstyrka dived at them from above. Stonvind banked to one side, avoiding the rending claws that sliced through the air.

  She is faster than I am. Stonvind gave chase all the same.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ shouted Tief. ‘Just more agile.’ They trailed the silver dragon by a hundred feet, the ground below rising up to meet them with horrifying speed, weather vanes and the pointed rooftops of towers promising to impale the unwary.

  ‘Use the buildings against her,’ urged Tief. ‘Use the stone!’

  Själsstyrka pulled up out of her dive just as the side of a bell tower came apart. The silver dragon was pelted with dozens of dark grey stones at Stonvind’s bidding.

  ‘That’s it!’ said Tief. Stonvind had already begun to slow her descent, changing course to intercept the flailing silver dragon.

  What is this? Själsstyrka’s voice was an outraged scream in their minds.

  This is the true power of dragons. Stonvind landed on the silver dragon from above, shredding wings and biting deep at the base of Själsstyrka’s neck. The cobbles in the street below were exploding upwards, pelting Själsstyrka’s soft underside mercilessly. This is the power of the arcane.

  How? Själsstyrka was losing height, barely staying above the rooftops of Khlystburg.

  Am I not called Stonvind? The dark grey dragon extended both wings and slowed quickly. Momentum carried the silver dragon onward as the shredded wings failed. A taller building shifted sideways and collapsed on Själsstyrka as she tried to pass by. Stonvind and Tief watched as a huge cloud of stone dust filled air, obscuring everything.

  ‘You dropped an entire building on her,’ said Tief, eyes wide with shock.

  Själsstyrka’s wings are broken but she is not dead. She will trouble us no more. Stonvind circled around and began the laborious task of gaining enough height to get back in the fighting.

  Taiga was holding on to the saddle as Flodvind harassed the father of dragons. Something flickered in the corner of her vision, a dark shape approaching quickly.

  ‘The smaller one is back!’ shouted Taiga. Flodvind kicked off from Bittervinge, trying to gain some height. The younger black dragon banked slightly and came on, powering itself through the sky with wings of night, though it trailed blood as it approached. Taiga could feel Flodvind trying to respond to this new threat but the exchange with Bittervinge had cost her and she bled from a score of minor wounds.

  ‘Flodvind, bank left!’ Too late. The younger black dragon had no intention of scoring Flodvind’s flesh with its talons, it simply folded its wings and slammed bodily into the azure dragon. Flodvind flipped in the air and began to plummet as Taiga slipped loose from the saddle and began her own descent. Flodvind looked at Taiga as they fell and though the dragon communicated nothing Taiga felt a strange calm. Her sickle, which until now had been grasped in Flodvind’s back claw, floated to her hand, guided by Flodvind’s mastery of the arcane.

  ‘No! Wait!’ Taiga cried as she spotted Stonvind and Tief, coming up fast from below. Flodvind turned her head towards the ground and flared the scorched and ragged remains of her wings. One moment Flodvind was in the air before Taiga, and the next Stonvind was beneath her. Tief grabbed her by the collar and pulled her tight to the saddle.

  ‘Flodvind!’ she screamed after the blue dragon.

  ‘She’ll be fine!’ shouted Tief, but the expression on his face changed as he watched Flodvind try to pull up from the dive. The azure dragon clipped a roof top in one street, only to collide with a building in the next. Her tail coiled in the air lazily, before she crashed to the ground.

  ‘Frøya save me, no, no, no!’ whispered Taiga, even as the younger black dragon approached Stonvind.

  Bittervinge was fleeing. The silver dragon, whom Kimi recognized from Vladibogdan, had crashed in the streets below, followed soon after by Flodvind.

  We must go to her aid! Namarii almost turned away from his pursuit of the father of dragons, but Kimi kicked her heels against the sides of his neck, as she might do while on horseback.

  ‘No! We almost have him.’

  As you wish, Your Highness. Kimi thought she heard a little of the old Namarii arrogance in the dragon’s tone, but she didn’t care.

  ‘Get above him.’ Bittervinge was heading for the centre of the city and descending quickly. Namarii, who was both faster and more agile than his larger kin, followed with ease. ‘Right above him! shouted Kimi, the Ashen Blade clutched in one fist.

  Kimi! You cannot be thinking to attack him in such a way. It is madness!

  But she had already swung one leg over the side of Namarii’s neck, riding side-saddle. A second later she had jumped clear, falling towards the father of dragons.

  Stonvind was tiring, wings beating more slowly; he was finding it harder to react in time. The younger black dragon suffered no such enervation, descending like a shadow from nightmare.

  ‘NO!’ screamed Taiga, holding up the holy sickle and the knife of her goddess. A chime sounded through the air and the young black dragon flinched as if it had been struck. It turned away and Stonvind turned his petrifying gaze on their attacker’s extremities.

  They cannot fly with wings of stone. But the young black dragon was fast, and slipped away from Stonvind, past the range of the arcane gaze. It wasn’t long before their attacker was above them, seemingly impervious to exhaustion. The young black dragon descended once more, jaws bared. Stonvind could do little but roll to one side in order to keep his human riders safe. The young black dragon clamped his cruel teeth around Stonvind’s throat and Taiga screamed.

  ‘He’s killing him!’

  Tief leaned out of the saddle and slashed at the young black dragon, but his sword made no impression on the glittering black scales.

  Stonvind, now! The rest of you, hold on! Somehow they heard Namarii’s voice in their heads above the din and panic.

  Stonvind slashed upwards with both front feet, raking the soft flesh of the young black dragon’s underside. Their attacker lost focus for a moment and released Stonvind as Namarii slammed into the young black dragon from above, driving him down to the ground with all of his considerable weight.

  ‘Namarii?’ Tief called out. There was no way either of the dragons would pull out of such a descent. A moment later and Namarii piled the young black dragon f
ace first into a building, which crumpled like paper under their combined weight. Stone and dust exploded upwards in a grey cloud. Stonvind glided closer, circling the scene of the collision. Nothing moved.

  ‘Namarii?’ shouted Tief. ‘Kimi?’

  ‘Oh no, oh Frøya, please no,’ mumbled Taiga, disconsolate and frantic.

  Kimi had fallen through the sky like a maddened comet, the Ashen Blade held out before her. Bittervinge, the burned, petrified, gouged and bleeding father of dragons, jolted once as the blade sank between his shoulder blades. Kimi hit the black scales so hard she was certain something must have broken. She clung on with gritted teeth, her fist clenched around the hilt of the Ashen Blade.

  What have you done? Bittervinge convulsed in the air. The blade!

  Kimi had no answer; she was breathless with the arcane energies coursing through her. Bittervinge’s many wounds began to worsen; his scales turned pale grey and peeled loose.

  Remove the blade, else we both die.

  Bittervinge was no longer beating his wings, merely gliding, momentum speeding them towards their death. Kimi realized she was smiling, tears streaming down her face as hysterical laughter escaped her. She had never felt so strong, so invincible, so alive. If Tsen could see her now!

  Impetuous fool! You have doomed us both!

  Bittervinge turned his head so he could see the Yamal princess who had undone him. Teeth slipped free of his black lips in a rictus grin as his eyes clouded with rheum. Kimi watched every detail of his sickening atrophy with fascination. It was all too beautiful. The sky rushed by overhead as the Imperial Palace rose up to meet them.

  You fool.

  Kimi grinned and twisted the hilt of Ashen Blade.

  ‘But a fool who slays dragons,’ replied Kimi as the Imperial Palace filled her vision.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Steiner

  To this day people still avoid the palace grounds, as if the entire place were a locus of death and suffering.

  – From the memoir of Drakina Tveit, Lead Librarian of Midtenjord Province