Emperor

by Isaac Hooke

  The buzzing sound faded from Malem’s mind.

  He slumped in Sylfi’s hold.

  The Darkness, he sent her. I escaped it. This can’t be possible.

  Banvil is on your side now, isn’t he? Sylfi asked. You’ve Broken him.

  I thought I did, Malem said.

  What if it’s not Banvil? she asked.

  He didn’t have an answer for that.

  Nemertes appeared ahead, along with four Black dragons. The huge blue sent him a mental message. So, what did I miss?

  4

  Malem stood amid the smoldering wreckage of the inn. It was late evening, and the night elves and goblings had arrived to take their expected shift. They carried torches to light the night.

  Weyanna and Mauritania’s royal healer had used magic to mend the injuries Malem and his main companions had suffered during the fighting. Malem had summoned other healers to the city from his dark army that camped in the Midweald to the west. These healers, mostly night elves and oraks, had used their magic to tend to the critically wounded Eldritch and orak fighters. There weren’t enough healers to go around, however, and those with less serious injuries had been transferred to a nearby inn, where night elf nurses bandaged and treated them with unguent. They would remain there at least overnight, until the healers had recovered enough to help them with magic.

  Malem was dressed in his dragonscale armor, as was Gwen. Timlir wore his chain mail. Mauritania had collected the different armor sets, tossing them into separate sacks when she escaped the burning inn.

  In front of him, Sylfi, in dragon form, stood next to the ruins of the building; she used her jaws to remove beams and other heavy objects for the oraks, who sifted through the rubble.

  Malem glanced at the long line of bodies that rested on the side of the road. The larger oraks looked formidable even in death, clad as they were in that multicolored armor with the bronze horns stamped into the chest pieces.

  He turned to Mauritania. “You say their armor is no longer magic resistant?”

  She turned toward the closest body, and launched darts of green magic. The darts struck the armor, and melted right through the chest area and into the dead flesh underneath.

  “Too bad,” Malem said. “I was looking forward to taking that armor for myself.”

  Gwen wrinkled her nose. “Donning armor worn by an orak? Gross. I can smell them from here.”

  “Any theories as to how the magic resistant properties of that armor work?” he asked Mauritania.

  “The oraks probably received some kind of resistance buff before they entered the portal to our realm,” Mauritania said. “I’ve received reports from my Eldritch that the buff began to wear off shortly after the wagon portals closed.”

  “Well, at least no further attacks came after that,” Abigail commented. In human form again, she had donned a dress from the belongings she’d saved.

  Malem nodded. He had been expecting more attacks, given the loss of his couriers—Frank and Garter—but no further attacks came from the forest. For all Malem knew, the killing of the two oraks might not have been related to the ambush in the city at all. It could have been bandits, rogue goblings, or even citizens of Redbridge—there were many who hated oraks and would slay them. Then again, the most likely culprits were the red dragons.

  The Reds… Abigail still seemed a little shaken from the attack, more-so than the rest of them. She had almost died out there in the forest after all, pinned by wind elementals.

  I should have warned her that Frank and Garter were gone. That there might be trouble in the forest. To fly higher. But in the midst of battle, with the Darkness chasing me…

  Yes, it had been his fault. And if Abigail had died, he would have never been able to forgive himself.

  Then again, maybe he was being too hard on himself.

  “Found something,” Ziatrice announced.

  She approached from further down the street, where she had been supervising the night elves responsible for sorting through the bodies of the oraks that had fallen next to the wagons.

  “This was discovered in the grip of an orak,” she said. “Probably a mage, though he was garbed like the others.”

  She offered the item to Malem.

  He accepted. It was a scepter of some kind—cylindrical in shape, and made of silver, with strange glyphs engraved on its side. The tip formed four claws that gripped a small ball of dark crystal—currently cracked open.

  Brita came forward. She had returned to human form like Abigail and was dressed in a tight green top and leggings. She extended a hand.

  “I have some skill in reading items…” she said.

  Malem gave the scepter to her.

  She frowned. “It was definitely enchanted before it was destroyed. Useless now, though.” She stared at it intently. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say it was responsible for the anti-dragon debuff. It seems to have a range ability… the mage could probably designate an area remotely, such as our inn, and create a no-transform zone around it.”

  “You got all that from a touch?” Gwen said. “Nice.”

  “That’s great, but what I’d like to know is: who gave it to the orak?” Malem asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Sylfi replied.

  “Could one of the former Black Swords be behind this attack?” Ziatrice asked. “Maybe now you’ll listen to me, when I tell you to execute them.”

  “If it was, then how do you explain the Darkness?” Malem said. “No Black Sword could summon that, even when they had the full power of Vorgon behind them.”

  “Before the battle, one of you asked if we knew anyone who could create anti-dragon debuffs,” Timlir commented. “You said ‘nobody,’ but that isn’t entirely true. We have in fact met such an individual. In the Black Realm.”

  Malem nodded. “Denfidal.” He glanced at Goldenthall, who stood with a dazed expression nearby. “Goldenthall. Is Banvil ready to talk yet?”

  When Malem had returned, the first person he had sought out was Goldenthall, but the man had refused to answer him. The former king merely stared at the bodies, muttering quietly to himself. Malem had reached out to the Darkness inside of him and sent a message to Banvil, imploring the demon to answer through the vessel of the former king, but it hadn’t helped.

  But this time, Goldenthall glanced up. “Banvil?”

  “Yes,” Malem said. “Is the demon ready to talk?”

  The former king’s eyes glazed over and darkened. Black mist flowed from them.

  “Who was responsible for this?” Malem said.

  “The attacker was not Denfidal,” Goldenthall said with the deep voice of a Balor.

  “Then who?” Malem asked.

  The former king didn’t answer.

  “Was the Darkness yours?” Malem pressed.

  Goldenthall’s head slowly turned toward him. “Not mine.” He smiled. “It was Vorgon.”

  “Vorgon?” Malem said. “Impossible!”

  “Vorgon has returned,” Banvil, speaking through Goldenthall, insisted. “It was his Darkness that pursued you. I sensed his malevolent intellect in its making.”

  “I always thought it would be centuries before Vorgon would even be able to take form,” Malem said. “Let alone create a Darkness capable of leaving the nether realm. The Paragon told me the demon was trapped there.”

  “Apparently, Vorgon has found a way out,” Banvil said.

  “That buzzing I heard in my head…” Malem said. “It was exactly the same as the droning that once accompanied your Darkness.”

  “Yes,” Banvil agreed.

  Malem frowned. “How can Vorgon hunt me with the same Darkness, if the two of us are not linked, as you and I?”

  “Vorgon has marked you, as I once did,” Banvil said. “All it takes is a touch, and the Balor will be able to sense wherever you are in this world. Did Vorgon touch you before you banished him?”

  Malem nodded. “He hoisted me into the air, intending to devour me.”
/>   “Then you can expect the Darkness to return whenever Vorgon recovers from the current sending,” Banvil said.

  “Great,” Gwen said sarcastically. “You escaped one demon, only to be trapped by the next.”

  Malem rubbed his chin. “If I let the Darkness take me, maybe I can beat Vorgon. Maybe I can Break the demon, just as I did you.” He glanced at the former king.

  “No,” Banvil said. “Not this time. You can only have one Balor in your mind at once. Vorgon has touched you, so he can hunt you, but you have no sway over him, because I am the one who is in your mind at the moment, giving you your powers. Not Vorgon.”

  “Too bad,” Malem said. “Though I do have one question: why didn’t Vorgon use the Darkness right away? Why wait until so late in the fight? If the demon had sent the Darkness while I was holed up in the inn, it would have been a hell of lot harder to escape.”

  “I cannot say what the Balor was thinking,” Banvil said. “Though I can tell you it would have been draining to hold so many portals open at once. Perhaps Vorgon assumed the oraks would not fail; when they did, he opened the final portal for the Darkness, driving you to his dragon allies.”

  “Maybe Vorgon wanted to capture you alive,” Gwen suggested.

  “From the way those dragons fought, I doubt it,” Malem said. “Plus, if the Darkness ever touched me, given that I’m not linked to Vorgon anymore, it’s highly unlikely I’d survive the experience.”

  Banvil nodded. “While the dark tendrils might very well convey you to the Black Realm still living, what arrived on the other side wouldn’t last for very long.”

  “So Vorgon has returned to the Black Realm then?” Malem asked.

  “That’s the only place where you would find oraks like these,” Banvil replied, nodding toward the large orak bodies lined up in a neat row on the street. “Uraks, Vorgon’s particular brand of the species. Bred from special stock only Vorgon has. Or used to have, before he fell.”

  Malem stared at those urak bodies. “There has to be a way to beat him.”

  “Get our hands on another Light Pearl,” Wendolin said, coming to his side. “That’ll do the trick quite nicely.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find another one?” he asked.

  “There are only a few left in this realm,” she replied. “I only know of two. I had one, and the Metals had the other.”

  Malem glanced at Abigail, who shook her head.

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it,” she said.

  “If your father the king knew of such a pearl, I’m sure he would have used it during the war,” Malem said. “But the fact he didn’t tells me everything I need to know.”

  “Maybe the Metals didn’t know what it was capable of,” Xaxia suggested.

  Once more Malem glanced at Abigail.

  “We dragons have heard of Light Pearls before, so if we had one, we’d know what it did,” she said. “More likely it was lost somewhere through the ages. Although I suppose it’s possible it was buried somewhere deep in the castle, maybe at the bottom of the treasury.”

  “The dark army looted everything of value from the Metals,” Malem said. “We’re going to have to interview the soldiers one by one, and search their belongings. Find out if any remember spotting such a pearl.”

  “I’ll arrange it,” Ziatrice said.

  Malem nodded. “Even if we do find a Light Pearl, and use it, what’s to stop Vorgon from coming back? Someone is obviously helping the creature.” He glanced at Goldenthall.

  The possessed king nodded. “The evidence would seem to point that way.”

  “Denfidal?” Malem asked.

  “Potentially,” Banvil replied. “Given the nature of the attacks, and the anti-dragon magic you have discovered—Denfidal is naturally gifted in debuff assaults and enchantments. And as Vorgon’s neighbor, Denfidal would have taken the demon’s territory and belongings when Vorgon fell. Including his uraks. Still, it is highly unusual for a Balor to aid another demon. Denfidal wouldn’t help Vorgon unless there was great benefit to himself.”

  “All right then,” Malem said. “Denfidal is also a target. So then… to take them both out, we’re going to need Light Pearls. Unless you know of anything more powerful?”

  Banvil shook the king’s possessed head. “A Light Pearl is the most effective weapon a mortal can use against a Balor. It is the weapon of choice for most immortals as well.”

  “Yeah, but as you already alluded to, you used a Light Pearl on Vorgon…” Ziatrice told Malem. “It doesn’t kill the demons fully. Eventually, they’ll come back.”

  Malem nodded. “I probably should have asked the Paragon to hunt down the Balor and eradicate its essence.”

  “She wouldn’t have done it,” Wendolin said. “The Paragons are happy with the current balance of power between Balors. They don’t want to see the demon numbers reduced any further, which would have the effect of making the surviving Balors that much stronger.”

  “Then we don’t use the Light Pearl right away,” Malem said. “First, we defeat the creature physically, just as Vorgon did Banvil by chopping off the latter’s head. When I discovered Banvil in the cave of the Black Realm, if I had used the Light Pearl then, it would have destroyed him, I’m certain of this.” He glanced at Goldenthall. “Right?”

  Banvil, as Goldenthall, nodded. “In that state, the pearl would have destroyed me utterly. There would now be eleven Balors in the Black Realm, not twelve.”

  “But I thought you just said the Paragons are happy with the current balance of power,” Xaxia told Wendolin. “What if the Paragon decided not to appear when the Light Pearl was thrown?”

  “It would have no choice,” Wendolin said. “It would form fully, and its presence would burn away the remnants of the Balor. However, the Paragon might be a little pissed after finding out.”

  “We’d have to fight the Paragon?” Malem asked her.

  “Potentially,” Wendolin replied. “At least until its anger cooled”

  Malem nodded. “So we have a plan. Physically destroy Vorgon, and perhaps Denfidal as well, and then use the Light Pearl to destroy their remnants in the Black Realm.”

  “If you can find those remnants,” Wendolin said.

  Malem glanced at Goldenthall.

  “Defeated Balors will usually retreat to a cave or other underground location within their territory,” Banvil said. “As I did. We will find them eventually.”

  “It’s too bad you’re not strong enough to fight for us,” Malem said. “We could retrieve your sword, and then you could be the one to physically defeat Vorgon and Denfidal.”

  “As much as I’d love to do that, it’s not possible,” Banvil said. “Even if I were strong enough to assume my Balor form, while I have a chance against Vorgon, I have none at all against Denfidal.”

  “Then how do we have a chance?” Xaxia said. “If a Balor does not?”

  “Maybe we’ll concentrate on destroying Vorgon alone for now,” Malem said. “And leave the other Balor be.”

  “Remember, by destroying Vorgon, you only make Denfidal stronger in the long run,” Wendolin said.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” Malem said. “But if Vorgon’s going to insist on coming back to this world and hunting me and those I love, I don’t see that we have a choice. Besides, I suspect Denfidal already had a chance to destroy Vorgon to increase its power, but the demon chose not to. This tells me that keeping Vorgon alive is even more advantageous to Denfidal, which is all the more reason for us to wipe Vorgon off the map entirely. So then, we need a Light Pearl.” He glanced at Wendolin. “You’re sure you don’t know where any other pearls are?”

  “No,” Wendolin said. “The tree elves had one. The Metals the other.”

  Malem glanced at the group that had gathered around him. “If Ziatrice isn’t able to find the pearl among our ranks, then we’re going to be paying a visit to the Metal dragons.”

  5

  Malem and his entourage rented out th
e next closest available inn for the night. The mayor didn’t offer to pay this time. Malem suspected the man was pissed about the damage to his city. He didn’t blame him, and in fact expected to receive a bill for all damages in the morning.

  Good thing we’ll all be gone before first light.

  He invited Abigail to his room that night.

  When she arrived, he was seated next to the fireplace on a bench, warming his hands.

  “Your room has a fireplace,” Abigail stated.

  “Oh yes,” Malem said. “You sound jealous.”

  “Of course I’m jealous,” she said, scooting down beside him so that their thighs touched. “I was a princess, once. Used to having the best of the best. I was my father’s favorite. No one had a room better than me.”

  “Well, just because I have a fireplace, doesn’t mean my room is the better than yours,” Malem said. He had changed out of his armor, and was wearing only a thin tunic and breeches. He readily felt the press of her warm leg through the thin fabric of her crimson dress. “You always wear red.”

  “The color of passion,” she said, gazing into his eyes, her voice becoming raspy. “The color of love.” She paused, and titled her head mischievously. She pulled her shoulders back, straightened, and puffed out her chest—the overall effect was to accentuate her breasts, which looked very nice indeed beneath that lace-fringed bosom. “Tell me… who do you love best among us?”

  He pressed his lips together when he heard that word, “love,” and looked away, his mood suddenly spoiling.

  She posed that question every time they were alone and about to make love. He always told her she was the one he loved best.

  But today, he found himself unable to do so.

  “What is it?” she said.

  He looked down, and gazed at his hands, which rested between his thighs. “Nothing.”

  She slid a hand onto his knee. “Tell me.”

  He sighed. “The Darkness. I thought I’d escaped it. I thought I’d finally defeated it. And then, this had to happen. I nearly lost you out there today. If something had happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”