Emperor

by Isaac Hooke

  They were actually a few miles out, but the conversation was growing a little uncomfortable for his tastes. Xaxia was pressuring Grendel. And while that pressuring might be warranted, how she lived her life was her choice. He’d welcome Grendel if she did stay, of course, but the decision had to be hers and hers alone.

  In half an hour, he could make out the sword towering against the night sky ahead. It wasn’t as difficult to discern as he had thought it would be, considering the night sky was overcast behind it, while the half-moon remained clear above.

  He sensed four dragons circling overhead, and twenty-six more on the ground ahead. The latter group wouldn’t be sleeping: Blacks were most active at night. In Malem’s army, and Vorgon’s, most dragons were forced to rise with the sun to fit in with the schedule of the other troops. But out here in the wild, the dragons would have fallen back into their native cycles. Assuming they were in fact deserters. If not, then they were merely operating on their preexisting cycles.

  He couldn’t see any of them. Black dragons could paralyze their prey when looked in the eye, so maybe that was a good thing. So far, Wendolin’s camouflage seemed to be working, because it appeared the dragons hadn’t spotted his party, either.

  And then, when they were maybe half a mile from the sword, one of the dragons overhead issued a loud, shrieking cry.

  We’ve been spotted! Mauritania said. I know a thing or two about the calls of black dragons, and this one just sounded the alarm.

  But can we be sure it’s us they’ve spotted? Abigail asked. And not some other monster on the plains?

  I’m not detecting any other creatures nearby, Malem said. Except for perhaps a wild boar, near the periphery of my sense. He waited a moment. The airborne dragons are descending toward our position. Rapidly. And other dragons are taking to the skies. We’ve definitely been spotted. Transform!

  The Metal dragons Changed, ripping through the clothing of branches and vines that camouflaged them.

  Corinne was surrounded by a yellow glow, and ribbons of light flowed from her and into the six dragons. She was conferring a speed bonus to the dragons. When she was done, the glow disappeared, and Malem and the others moved away hastily under the cover of darkness and ducked behind a pile of bones: the dragons would be doing most of the fighting here.

  As Abigail and the others leaped into the air, flapping their wings with unnatural speed to intercept the four dragons that were coming down upon them, he sent the mental call to Nemertes.

  Come now, my friend, he sent.

  Oh, so I’m your friend now, huh? Nemertes retorted. Fucker.

  Malem smiled. Ah, dragons.

  He could sense her closing, but it would be some time yet before she arrived. The others would just have to hold off the Blacks until then.

  He continued to share his sense of the enemy dragons with those bound to him so that even if their night vision wasn’t on par with that of their enemies, they would still have some idea of where the Blacks were located around them.

  A glow came from above as Abigail created fire elementals to torment her foes. These creatures concentrated on the eyes of their enemies.

  While the four dragons were thus blinded, the Metals passed by, raking their claws into the backs of the Blacks. Solan scored a lucky hit, his talon tearing the leathery wings of one of the Blacks, and that creature went tumbling down.

  Weyanna, heal that one if you can! he sent.

  He reached out to Break it, but the Black was too close to the ground, and moving with too much speed, and it smashed into the hard surface a moment later. Malem’s sense of the creature vanished completely.

  The other twenty-six dragons began to arrive. From their roars, he knew they weren’t all that happy at this late-night intrusion. He could sense the dragons as they passed the Metals, and from the spikes in pain he felt from the bundles of the latter, he knew they were exchanging midair blows—mostly bites and talon strikes. He also occasionally heard the sickly sound of claws penetrating deep into flesh, followed by shrieks of pain.

  The skies lit up as the Metals breathed fire at their foes—they were aiming at the wounds they’d caused, in order to further aggravate the creatures. Weyanna also launched spears of ice at her enemies, also targeting wounds.

  Malem tried to wrap his will around the injured animals, but none had been weakened enough for him to Break yet. Solan had taken a fairly bad blow to his right foreleg, and he was flying away from the battle.

  I’m out, Solan said. Best of luck to the rest of you.

  That’s right, break a nail, and then you’re done, Ziatrice said. I see how it is.

  He’s broken a little bit more than a nail, Malem said. See you when this is over, Solan.

  Mauritania had crept to a spot well away from where Malem and the others were hiding, and she released several ribbons of Green Rot up at the skies. Two of the dragons were stricken, and they roared in pain, their wounds glowing in the dark. Eldritch magic was one of the few that could penetrate dragon scales, capable of causing debilitating damage to all but the strongest of them. And debilitate it did: the afflicted dragons plunged to the ground a moment later. They fell from too great a height to survive, and died upon impact.

  The others turned to where Mauritania stood, her hands glowing in the night. She released her magic, fading into the darkness, but she did not otherwise move. Though he could not see her from here, he sensed her, standing still.

  But the dragons apparently still saw her, because three blacks raced toward her position. They breathed acid, barely visible in the night.

  Get out of there!

  30

  Malem felt Mauritania’s energy bundle shifting. It moved rapidly, literally jumping to another spot thirty yards away—she had teleported, and was crawling away upon the dirt.

  Meanwhile, the three dragons landed, and scoured the area where they had last spotted her. They smashed their tails into the ground, and threw the skeletons up in the air looking for her.

  “Where did that Eldritch bitch go?” one of the blacks boomed. “It killed my brood mate!”

  “It’s not here,” another thundered. “But I have heard Eldritch can teleport!”

  And then more tendrils of Green Rot launched, revealing Mauritania’s latest position. One of the dragons managed to dodge the glowing ribbons of magic, but the other two were hit, and dropped.

  The remaining dragon roared in outrage, and then leaped at Mauritania.

  She was too weak to teleport, having exhausted herself with that last magic, so Malem frantically fed her stamina, taking from Gwen and himself.

  But before the dragon reached her, it was torn out of the sky by a silver blur—Abigail. She and the dragon landed rolling on the ground, and proceeded to wrestle.

  Where’s Nemertes! Abigail complained.

  On the way, Malem replied.

  Guys, this guy’s tough! Abigail sent. Some help here!

  He saw that the black had her pinned by the neck, and was refusing to let her get up.

  In between fending off the other Blacks, the remaining Metals made dive bombing runs at Abigail; they released streams of flame as they passed, fires that burned persistently upon the Black’s back long after the Metals had gone, irritating the wounds the dragon had taken at Abigail’s hands. Nonetheless, the beast kept her pinned, apparently ignoring the pain.

  The flames the Metals had unleashed had struck not just the dragon, but the ground on either side. And there they continued to burn, despite that there were no plants, illuminating the nearby area.

  Malem and the others kept low behind the pile of bones, not wanting to give away their positions.

  Abigail’s energy bundle was growing weak. Malem fed her stamina, taking liberally from Gwen, Mauritania, Wendolin, and Ziatrice, not daring to leech from the Metals embroiled in the fighting above. He did take some from Solan, since he wasn’t fighting anymore, but not too much as the Bronze was already weak. Still, Abigail was like an endurance sink—n
o matter how much he gave her, he was barely maintaining her current level.

  “Can you reach the Black with your ribbons of light from here?” Malem asked Grendel quietly.

  “No,” the light mage replied. “I’ll have to get closer. A lot closer.”

  It’s killing her, Malem said. Wendolin, can you help her?

  No, she said. Even if I had the strength, unfortunately she landed in no man’s land. There are no plants around.

  Mauritania? Malem asked. What about you?

  Sure, if you return some of the stamina you took, she sent.

  He checked her energy bundle. Yes, she was very weak. She must have teleported again, shortly after launching her latest Green Rot attack—she probably realized too late that Abigail had saved her.

  Malem had already drained too much from the others with him to risk more. And he was loath to take from the Metals above him, who were struggling for their very lives, doing their best to keep the other dragons away from Abigail while protecting themselves. But it looked like he was going to have to.

  There was another option…

  He gave Mauritania as much stamina as he could spare, and then clambered to his feet.

  It’s not enough, Mauritania said.

  You’ll get more in a sec, he replied, wishing he had given the stamina to Abigail instead.

  He made his way toward the pinned silver dragon, moving quickly across the bones.

  Xaxia appeared at his side. As did Timlir and Grendel. Goldenthall remained conspicuously behind.

  Where are you going? Ziatrice asked from where she lay exhausted on the ground behind him.

  To help her, of course, Malem replied. Stay there.

  Like I have a choice, she said. Given how much you just drained.

  I’m not done yet, unfortunately, he said.

  He drained Ziatrice and Gwen further, as much as he dared, and also took small amounts from the other Metals, and gave it to Abigail, who was no longer conscious.

  As he got closer, he realized just how enormous the dragon that had Abigail was. It was at least twice as large as Abigail. He could understand why she had struggled.

  It still had her in a chokehold. He realized it was trying to bite her head right off. And it would succeed in moments.

  Malem drew his sword and broke into a run. It was time to feed Balethorn.

  The blade didn’t hum or fight him in any way. It was calm and content, as a Broken blade should be. Completely unlike himself.

  He howled in rage as he grew near, and he stabbed the point of his blade into the dragon’s leg.

  The beast shrieked, releasing Abigail, and kicked outward.

  Malem flew backwards and landed several yards away, but endurance flooded him from the sword. He fed much of it to Abigail, and a good portion of the remainder to Mauritania.

  The dragon turned around to face him.

  Malem scrambled to his feet, averting his gaze. But it was too late. He had caught the dragon’s eye, and its black paralyzing magic had taken hold.

  He stood there, motionless, completely illuminated by the flames that yet burned on the ground around him. He tried to wrap his will around the creature, but Balethorn hadn’t weakened it sufficiently.

  “Why, it’s the Breaker!” the dragon hissed. “My old commander. Well, well, little Breaker, you’ve come to hunt us down for deserting, have you? Well then, the best of luck to you!”

  It reared its head, and gills on the side of its neck glowed green as it prepared to release a stream of acid.

  But then another glow came from behind the dragon, this one a bright yellow. Burning whips of light wrapped around the dragon’s head, pulling it back.

  “What?” the dragon thundered.

  Timlir raced forward, and slammed Hamstringer into the dragon’s already injured foreleg. Xaxia attacked too, also concentrating on the wound Malem had opened.

  The dragon screamed, kicking outward and sending the bandit and the dwarf hurtling backward. It limped toward Grendel, but she wrapped more whips of light around its neck, and hurried to the side, drawing its head well behind its body. The creature struggled to reposition its legs to catch up with her. It breathed a stream of acid, hitting the empty ground beside Grendel.

  “It burns,” the dragon said.

  Malem was still frozen, but he reached out, and was relieved when he found that he could wrap his will around the dragon’s. He squeezed, tight, and it fought him, but the stamina Balethorn had granted Malem allowed him to prevail, and he Broke the creature.

  Release me from your paralyzing magic, Beast. Malem commanded.

  Yes, Master, the dragon responded.

  Malem staggered when he was free. The Breaking had cost him.

  What is your name? he asked.

  Jaggon, the dragon replied.

  “Grendel,” he shouted. “Release it! The dragon is mine!”

  Go, Jaggon, and fight your comrades, Malem commanded.

  The dragon wasn’t so weak that it could not yet fly, and it took to the air easily. It intercepted the three dragons that were coming in to make a strafing run.

  Weyanna, down here! Malem sent. Abigail needs your healing!

  Weyanna arrived, with four Black dragons hot on her tail.

  But then Nemertes swooped down from above, and crashed into two of the dragons, which had lined up in a neat vertical row.

  She tore into the flesh of the first one, and tossed it aside, and then ripped out the throat of the one below. The last two turned to face her, but she unleashed ribbons of light into the wounds the dragons had taken in their scales, causing the tissue underneath to cave, forming craters in the flesh.

  The enemy dragons screamed.

  “Now that’s what I call light magic,” Grendel commented.

  Nemertes turned away from the injured dragons. A gift for you, Breaker.

  Malem reached out, and Broke the first one. He was too weak after that to Break the second one, so he commanded the first to finish off the second. His Black surprised its comrade, biting a huge chunk out if its belly, and the dragon fell to the ground, dying upon impact. Then the dragon swooped into the air to join Nemertes, Jaggon, and the other Metals in the fight.

  Weyanna, meanwhile, had landed and she healed Abigail enough so that the silver dragon returned to consciousness.

  “Did we win?” Abigail asked when she opened her eyes; the surrounding flames flickered in her large irises.

  “Almost,” he told her.

  He tapped into the viewpoint of Nemertes; she moved quickly among the enemy, guided by her night vision, the dark bodies of the Blacks gleaming beneath the half-moon like beacons to her eyes. He shared his beast sense with her, and his awareness helped her sense the Blacks that came at her from her blind spots, so that she could avoid them before they surprised her with an attack from above, or behind.

  The battle ended relatively quickly after her arrival. Already the Blacks were weakened from harrying the Metals, who had put up an extremely good fight, whereas Nemertes was completely rested. She used all of her attacks: breathing ice, spitting venom, launching sticky silk from the spinnerets in her tail, releasing more ribbons of light to crater the wounds of her enemies.

  Soon, the Blacks were broken and routed, with the survivors fleeing the scene.

  “The treasure is yours!” one of them shouted. “Take it!”

  “That’s right, run, Bitch,” Nemertes boomed in reply. “And yes, I’ll be happy to take your treasure. I’m going to shit all over it.”

  When they were gone, Nemertes landed next to Abigail. “She going to be all right?”

  “Yes, no thanks to you,” Malem said.

  “You sound ungrateful,” Nemertes said.

  “You took your sweet time coming here,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I’m a heavy dragon. I don’t fly very fast. Your little light mage’s speed boost wore off well before you summoned me.” She glanced at the two Blacks that had landed nearby. “How come you di
dn’t crush more of their wills? You’re losing your touch, Breaker.”

  “Too weak,” he replied. “Besides, you and the Metals had the situation under control.”

  “Just me,” Nemertes said. “Not the Metals.”

  “We pulled our weight,” Sylfi said angrily.

  Nemertes shrugged. “You survived. Where’s Solan by the way? Don’t tell me he’s fallen. He was the only dragon I really liked among you.”

  Solan, come back, Malem sent. If you can.

  I can, Solan replied. I’ll be right there.

  “He’s fine,” Malem said. “Though he’ll need some attention from Weyanna when he returns.”

  “If I were still sexually active, I’d probably choose Solan as a mate,” Nemertes said.

  Gannet laughed. “But he wouldn’t choose you!”

  Nemertes glanced at the male silver and arched an eyebrow. “He wouldn’t have a choice. Trust me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I’ll make you my mate.”

  “But you’re not sexually active,” Gannet said, sounding nervous as he stepped back.

  “Just because I’m not sexually active doesn’t mean I can’t actually engage in the sex act,” Nemertes said. “Who knows, it might be fun to subjugate you. And while it might not be physically stimulating to do so, it will certainly be satisfying mentally.”

  Gannet took another few steps back, and stumbled on a large rock in the no man’s land. He straightened, suddenly aware that all eyes were upon him.

  “Just kidding, Fuck,” Nemertes said.

  Gannet slumped visibly.

  When Solan arrived, Malem drained stamina from Nemertes—she glared at him for doing so—and gave it to Weyanna so that she could heal him. Then Weyanna treated the injuries of the others which, thankfully, were mostly minor in comparison to Abigail and Solan.

  “Jaggon,” Malem said.

  The Black dragon stood to attention.

  “Am I correct in assuming that the two of you are deserters from my army?” he asked.

  Jaggon bowed its head in shame. “Yes, Dread Lord.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Malem said. “Well, I’ve just drafted you back into my service. You are to return to my army in the Midweald, and warn those serving beneath the Black Swords to have my troops ready to march upon the morrow.”