by Isaac Hooke
To me, it is, Malem said, hoping to put an end to the discussion.
Gwen didn’t counter him, thankfully. He didn’t need her sowing disharmony among the group, for the past actions of one of their members. He was guilty of far worse things, as were some of the other members of his party, but his rule had been, once someone joined him, no matter what they had done, their past was forgotten. They started off with a blank slate, and what they did going forward was the sole determination of how he would treat them.
Malem watched the sky behind him the whole time to confirm the dragons didn’t pursue. He ordered the Metals to land when the sword vanished beneath the horizon, and the Blacks were out of view.
He chose a spot past the trenches that bordered the no man’s land, where grass still grew.
After Nemertes landed, Wendolin released him, and he stood in the saddle to untie Grendel.
“Those Black dragons are yours?” Grendel asked. Her eyes had returned to normal, as had her voice. Corinne was gone, at least for the moment.
“No,” Malem said. “We’re going to have to fight them.”
He slid down the wing, and Wendolin and Grendel followed behind him. Grendel was a little clumsy in her slide, having never done it before, and Malem caught her as she reached the bottom.
She felt so light and delicate in his arms, as if she would be crushed by the slightest of blows. Her face was almost right in front of his so that he could smell her breath, a mixture of mint and lavender. For the briefest of instants, he thought he saw unbridled desire there, in her gaze. A hunger for the touch of a man, something she hadn’t experienced in perhaps decades.
His eyes involuntarily drifted to her lips…
She shoved him away curtly as if angry at his touch. All desire had faded from her eyes, replaced by a steely glint.
“You asked if those dragons were mine,” Malem said, trying to pretend nothing had just transpired between them, though he couldn’t deny the desire he had seen. “I suppose it is possible they’re deserters from my army.” He glanced at the great blue dragon. “Without Nemertes to keep the peace…”
Nemertes shrugged. “I left a dragon named Hastor in charge. He’s reliable enough. A strict disciplinarian.”
“Hastor,” Malem said in wonder. “Yes, I know this dragon. He was the first dragon I ever Broke.”
“I know,” Nemertes said. “He told me this. Why do you think I put him in charge? I figured you’d approve.”
Malem nodded. “I do. I hadn’t heard from him in a while, so I guess I just assumed Hastor had fallen in battle at some point. I’m glad that’s not the case.”
Abigail and the others remained in dragon form, and they formed a circular huddle around Nemertes. Their riders meanwhile gathered next to Malem.
“I’m sure you’re happy your old pet is in charge back home, but what are we going to do about these Blacks?” Abigail asked.
Xaxia gazed up at the ancient Blue dragon beside her. “Nemertes could probably take them all herself.”
“While I appreciate the vote of confidence, even I would have trouble against thirty black dragons,” Nemertes said. “Even with six Metals backing me, it’s not going to be easy. Especially if the dragons concentrate on me while a few keep the rest of you occupied.”
“I have a question,” Gwen said. “Why are the dragons here?”
“The black blade draws them,” Ziatrice said. “Its dark magic can be felt for miles around. I feel it, certainly.”
“As do I,” Goldenthall said. “My old blade. It would be good to hold it again.”
“Yours, or Banvil’s?” Gwen asked.
“I don’t know anymore!” Goldenthall said with a giggle.
Xaxia tapped her chin. “If its dark magic can be felt for miles, that would explain how the night elves found it so easily.”
Wendolin glanced at her questioningly.
“When I came here to retrieve the Dark Eye from the pommel, I arrived to find it stolen, in the hands of night elves who were using an abandoned city nearby as their hideout,” Xaxia explained.
“So these dragons have decided to make this sword the centerpiece of their new hoard?” Timlir asked.
Abigail nodded her silver head. “Balor swords such as these are prized by dragons for their hoards. The fact that thirty dragons are sharing it should tell you a lot.”
“It’s likely drawn in most of the roaming black dragons in the region,” Ziatrice said. “Not to mention other dark users. Though dragons are top of the food chain, as you can see from all the bones piled beneath.”
“There were no dragons here when I visited not that long ago…” Xaxia said. “Nor other dark creatures.”
“I’m sure curious dark users did in fact come,” Ziatrice said. “But then left, like the night elves you mentioned, when they realized what it was that had drawn them. As for the dragons, I can only speculate… most Blacks would have been part of Vorgon’s army at the time. Once the Breaker took over, there were several deserters, which lends credence to the theory that these once belonged to him.”
“If Balor weapons are prized by dragons,” Timlir said. “Maybe we should just return to the Khroma mountains and loot a few more dragon hoards until we find one.”
“No thanks,” Gwen said. “We already know where to find a sword. It could take weeks or months to find another in the mountains, considering we don’t know where all the dragon dens are.”
“They’re not too hard to spot,” Timlir said. “But you’re right, it will take time.”
“Something we don’t have,” Malem said. “In a week’s time, Denfidal might defeat all remaining Balors. No, this is the sword we’re taking.”
“And what do we do when it’s ours?” Ziatrice said. “We can’t just carry it out of here. If the Blacks could lift it, they would have moved it by now to a more secure location. Somewhere more defensible, like a cave.”
“These dragons can’t, maybe,” Malem said. “Nor even our Metals. But we do possess one among us whose strength is as formidable as her size.” He glanced at Nemertes, who towered above all the rest.
“Fuck you,” the ancient blue dragon said. “I’m not carrying that.”
“You have to,” Malem said. “We have no one else.”
She closed her eyes and laid her head down on the ground. “Oh look. It’s sleep time. Good night.”
“You can’t just shirk this duty so easily, Nemertes,” Malem said. “The fate of the world rests in your hands. Or paws, as it were.”
“Talons,” Nemertes said, opening one eye. “Cats have paws. Dragons have talons.”
“Of course,” Malem agreed. “So. Can you carry the blade, or are you to weak?”
She sighed. “I’m not weak. So yes, I can carry it. I mean, probably. But I’ll have to take frequent rests. And I won’t carry it in my talons, that will be far too tiring. You’ll have to strap it to my back, once I knock it over.”
“If she carries the sword on her back, where will we sit?” Wendolin asked.
“We won’t,” Malem told her. “When we’re done here, the other Metals will have to carry us. We’ve ridden two per back before, without saddles. It’s just a matter of using extra ropes to secure ourselves.”
“So, let’s say we get this sword,” Gannet asked. “How are we going to find Denfidal and Vorgon, for the Paragon to use this weapon?”
“I can help with that,” Goldenthall said.
Everyone looked at the former king.
“Or Banvil can, I mean,” Goldenthall finished. His eyes rolled up, and turned black. He spoke with the Balor’s deep voice. “Once Denfidal defeats Quartenan, he will head east, to the territory of the next closest Balor: Manu.”
“Denfidal isn’t attacking the weakest Balors first?” Grendel asked.
“He chose Quartenan as his first target,” the possessed king said. “And that Balor is hardly the weakest.”
“Maybe Denfidal was headed toward the territory of another, weaker
Balor further north, beyond Quartenan’s lands,” Solan suggested.
“There are no further Balors,” Goldenthall said. “Trust me, he is targeting the closest first. He wants to beat these other Balors as quickly as possible, before they can come up with a means to counter this new strategy. And that won’t be difficult, given his ability to circumvent all the elaborate defenses they have made for themselves. Most Balors in a one on one fight with Denfidal will lose. I would.” He glanced at Grendel. “Your Paragon probably will.”
“We’ll see,” Grendel said.
“You can guide us to the territory of this Manu?” Malem asked.
“Of course,” Goldenthall replied. “In this world, it lies to the northeast, beyond the tree elf kingdom of Dothloron.”
“And what about Vorgon?” Gwen said.
“When we find Denfidal, Vorgon won’t be far, I’m sure,” Malem said. “Denfidal needs Vorgon to enter this world, after all.”
“You’re sure Vorgon hasn’t given Denfidal that ability?” Gwen asked.
“Yes,” Malem replied. “Because if Vorgon did that, the demon’s usefulness to Denfidal would have ended shortly thereafter, no doubt along with Vorgon’s life. So then, about the sword…” He turned his gaze south, toward the horizon.
“Maybe we should just call in reinforcements?” Mauritania said. “A hundred Blues and Blacks would make short work of those thirty dragons.”
“This is something we can handle ourselves,” Malem said. “Consider it practice for the fight against Vorgon and Denfidal. Besides, as I mentioned, we don’t have time to dawdle. Denfidal has likely already returned to the Black Realm, and is destroying Quartenan as we speak.” He glanced at the distant horizon to the south, beyond which lay the sword.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Malem said.
29
Beneath the cover of darkness, Malem and his small band wended their way alongside the trenches that bordered the no man’s land. The half-moon shone overhead, its light both a blessing, and a curse: it guided them, but it would also make their enemies see them even more readily—black dragons had very good night vision.
To that end, Wendolin had garbed the Metals in clothes formed of branches and vines, allowing them to blend in with their surroundings. They were naked underneath: they planned to transform into dragons shortly after arriving, ripping the plant garments away entirely. The Metals would return to the camp and fetch their clothes when this was done.
Malem and the non-dragons were similarly camouflaged, though the plants surrounded the armor and dresses they wore. Malem had several leaves and branches in his hair, and they itched constantly. He sensed similar irritation from the others.
Well, that itching would be forgotten when the time for battle came. Though it wouldn’t be for a while yet: they still had several miles to go before they reached their destination. Malem could sense the dragons ahead, just out of view. He shared that sense with those bound to him, so that they had some idea of how far they had to go.
Grendel remained close to his side, as did Xaxia. As the two full humans in his party, their night vision was the worst, and he warned them if there were any obstacles in their paths like a fallen branch or unexpected recess.
Goldenthall, while human, was possessed by Banvil, which Malem suspected gave him night vision close to his own. Malem had confirmed as much when the man had avoided a log on his own, this while the moon was temporarily covered in clouds.
“I’m afraid,” Grendel said softly.
“Of the dragons?” Malem said. “And the coming fight?”
“That,” she said. “But even more-so of what comes after. I’m afraid I will lose myself. I can feel her in my mind. The Paragon. I’m not sure where she ends, and I begin.”
“That’s exactly how I feel,” Goldenthall said, turning around in the dim light. He giggled suddenly. “Sometimes, I’m not sure I’m still sane!”
Grendel sighed. “See? This is my fate.”
Malem paused to grab her by the shoulders and turn her toward him. “It’s not your fate. You make your own. We all do.”
“Do I really?” she said. “I’m not so sure.”
“You do,” he said. “It was your choice to close yourself up inside that house in Dark Wood. Just as it was your choice to leave that thankless life behind, and join us.”
“I regret that choice,” Grendel said. “That’s all it took, one moment of weakness on my part, one moment where I lowered my guard, and I consented to something I should have never agreed to. Allowing a Paragon inside of me as its vessel…”
Xaxia was waiting on the other side of him, as were the other party members, and so Malem gently shoved Grendel forward. She shrugged out of his grasp, and continued on her own.
“You made the right choice,” Malem said. “No matter what happens, the world owes you.”
“Yes,” she said. “Except the world can’t pay me back if I lose myself or die, now, can it? I miss my home. I want to be in my forest. I want to be left alone.”
“When this is done, you can return to your woods,” he told her. “I promise you. If that’s what you want.”
“Of course it is,” she said. “I can’t stay with you… misfits.”
“Misfits!” Xaxia said. “Is that what you think of us?”
“Well, yes,” Grendel said. “You’re all misfits. Don’t get me wrong. I am, too.”
“Yes, most of us are social outcasts, to some degree,” Malem said. “You’d have to be, if you were a queen, or a princess, used to others following your every command and order, used to the lavish, disingenuous praise they heaped on for every little thing you did. Or a man like myself, who once preferred the company of animals to humans. But that’s why we make such a good team. Us misfits, we have to stick together.”
“So you, too, once preferred the company of animals to humans,” Grendel said. “That makes me feel a little better. Less alone in this world. But I even gave up that small comfort, at one point. I suffered the loss of too many pets, outliving even my animal friends.” She shook her head, and was silent for a long moment. Then she glanced at the silhouettes of the party members behind her. “Is it true that you’ve Broken them all? At least, I assume you have, based on how deferential they behave around you.”
“He hasn’t Broken me,” Xaxia said. “And I hardly act deferentially.”
“Nor me,” Timlir added. “And I echo the latter sentiment.”
“The humans and the dwarf, I cannot Break,” Malem said. “I can only Break monsters and animals. And of course, half monsters.”
“I used to think Breaking would be a terrible burden,” Weyanna said. “A loss of freedom. But I was wrong. It’s the opposite. I’m more free now than ever before. If I want to communicate with my sisters and brothers, I don’t even need to be in the same room. I can issue a thought, and the Breaker’s brain will reroute it to another. And then there’s the pleasure. Don’t even get me started on that.”
“Oh, of course,” Xaxia said. “She always has to brag about the pleasure, to make me feel left out.”
“The pleasure?” Grendel asked, her interest piqued.
“It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt,” Weyanna told her.
“I almost feel bad that I’m human,” she said.
“Don’t,” Xaxia said. “You’re not missing much. When you hear a bunch of panting and moaning coming from the tents around you in the middle of the night, you’ll understand why.”
“Sounds a little gross, actually,” Grendel said.
“It is!” Xaxia said. She turned toward the silhouettes of the other party members. “See, someone understands.”
“So wait, I thought Breakers were in complete control of the minds they conquered,” Grendel said.
“It doesn’t work that way for us,” Weyanna said. “He can force us to compliance, this is true, by draining us of stamina, but he never does that. Because he knows he needs us just as badly as we need him. We grant
him his power, you see. We are free to leave whenever we want. So far, no one has.”
“Probably because of the pleasure you mentioned?” Grendel asked.
“That,” Weyanna agreed. “Plus, something more. The sense of camaraderie that’s developed among us. The sense that together, we’re more powerful than alone. We don’t have the Breaker’s powers, but we don’t need them—we have our own set of skills we bring to the table. We all play an integral role against whatever adversaries we face. It’s that sense of belonging, of purpose, I suppose, that keeps us together, more than anything else.”
Grendel nodded. “That definitely makes sense. And it sounds like everything I’ve been lacking in my life. And yet I know, even if I were to join you, that one day you’d all die, leaving me alone again. I don’t think I could bear it.”
“I think you’re missing the point,” Xaxia said. “Yes, we will die. But it’s the time you spend with us before then that matters. Have you ever heard the phrase: it’s the journey that matters, not the destination? Or the cliché: it’s better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all? Yes, most of us will die. But if you choose instead to seal yourself away from the world, locking your doors, and keeping your windows and their curtains forever closed, you’ll never experience the great adventures this life still has to offer.”
“It sounds like you’re trying to convince her to join us,” Ziatrice said. “When we haven’t even decided if we want her to stay when this is done.”
“I won’t stay,” Grendel said. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Good,” Ziatrice said.
“You were always good at spoiling the mood,” Gwen commented to Ziatrice.
“Thanks,” Ziatrice said. “I’m actually doing you a favor, though. Less competition.”
“I’m not trying to pressure you into staying with us in particular,” Xaxia told Grendel. “I only want you to live your life. Choose whatever path you wish when this is done. Go to the city. Take up a profession. Just don’t return to your life alone in the woods. Stop living in memories.”
“Okay, we’re getting close,” Malem said. “Let’s get some quiet, please.”
