by Isaac Hooke
The army of dragons left the forest behind, and traveled over the plains beyond. The dragons blackened the sky with their bodies, casting the land below in shadow wherever they went. Herds of wild beasts fled across the plains when the dragons appeared; the sudden movements only aroused the hunting instincts of the Blacks and Blues, who promptly departed on temporary food runs.
Despite matching Nemertes’ slower speed, the army still made good time. Soon, the plains gave way to rolling hills, and the hills in turn ceded to the shoulders of the Harken mountain range. As the army crossed those mountains, Malem could see Mount Ademan squatting on the eastern horizon.
Maybe we should stop by Khaledonius, and ask the Metals for a hand, Abigail suggested.
I can’t set foot in Khaledonius again, he told her. Not unless I want to be forced into marrying you.
You’re strong-willed enough to resist father’s pressure, she sent. You’re a king and emperor in your own right.
Not in his domain, I’m not, he said.
Then why not just do it? she asked. If it meant bolstering our ranks by another hundred dragons? All the other women would know the marriage for the sham it was.
Because another hundred dragons won’t be enough, Malem sent.
But surely you’d agree, we can use all the help we can get? she sent. Every dragon we take with us is another dragon that will distract the Balors.
Let’s be honest, Malem said. The Metals can’t really help us. Distract perhaps, but no more. Look, I’m doing them a favor. They’ve already done enough. We’ve taken much of their treasure. Destroyed their homes. He shook his head. And they already gave enough lives during the original war against Vorgon, when they joined the Alliance. So no, I will not ask Agantas to do this. This is my fight, for once. A battle for my army alone. Besides, I kind of think of this as a proving ground for my men. Their first major engagement after leaving Vorgon’s power, in a battle against their former master.
And you say Nemertes has her work cut out for her… Abigail commented.
Malem fed Nemertes stamina along the way, but as soon as the army had crossed the Harken mountains, the blue asked for a rest, so he landed the army on the Wilden plains below.
Sylfi deposited a dead wildebeest at Nemertes’ feet.
“Well thank you, aren’t you a dear,” Nemertes said, before tearing into the animal.
When Nemertes had recovered, the army took to the skies again. Soon they flew past the outskirts of the Dothweald forest, where the entrance to the realm of the tree elves existed. The elves had made great strides in restoring the forest: when Vorgon had invaded previously, the demon had attempted to burn down the Dothweald in order to drive out the elves. But Malem could hardly tell that the forest had ever taken fire damage. There were a few scorched sections with blackened, dead trees, but otherwise the green branches extended to the northwest horizon.
I might be able to convince the elves to join us, Wendolin sent suddenly.
Again, Malem found himself reluctant to commit. We don’t have time to dawdle. Denfidal could be marching across our world even now, preparing to enter the Black Realm to defeat the next Balor.
It won’t take long, Wendolin said.
Sorry, no, he sent.
Stubborn ass, Wendolin said. You’re going to insist on doing this yourself, with your own army, to the detriment of the world! You just have to do this yourself. Completely. You’re afraid to admit you need help.
It’s not so much I’m afraid, he said. As I’m reluctant to owe anyone anything. Especially when I believe my army can do this on its own. I’m paying them a fortune to fight for me, after all. But what will I pay the elves with? I have nothing. You can’t tell me the elves won’t expect something in return? Oh wait, let me guess… they’ll want me to marry you?
She snorted mentally. Nothing of the sort, believe me. But sure, they’d expect preferential treatment in any trade agreements you drafted with other nations, once our kingdom is up and running. Things like that.
There you go, he said. I don’t want to owe them anything. Besides, where we’re going, there aren’t many trees. Their magic will be useless.
Not so useless, she said. There are certain magic items tree elves can bring to the table. Seed Stalks, for example.
Seed Stalks?
We used them to bind up your dragons when you first attacked, if you’ll recall, she sent.
I do, he said. But again, useless against the blades of a Balor. So no, no tree elves.
I can go on my own, Wendolin said. It wouldn’t delay you. Let me take this dragon—
No, I forbid it, he said. And that’s final.
She didn’t say a word more, but he could feel her stewing in his head. She definitely wasn’t happy.
It was late evening by the time they reached their destination, the barren plains of Thaadamus. The land was rocky and treeless. It reminded him of the Black Realm. He searched the four horizons, but couldn’t see any sign of the Balors or their dark hosts.
Nemertes, on the ground.
Relieved, the great blue landed to rest.
He fed her stamina, hoping it would help her rejuvenate faster.
Then he deployed scouts in every direction. He ordered Sylfi seven miles to the north, and Brita the same distance to the south, with orders to assume a holding pattern when they reached their respective destinations. He didn’t expect them to travel exactly seven miles in either direction, of course, but dragons did seem to have an almost uncanny sense of distance. Abigail had revealed the trick to him: they relied upon landmarks to check off the miles in their heads.
Meanwhile, he had Abigail fly east another seven miles. That left him in communications range with Sylfi and Brita, along with Nemertes, who remained behind with the main army. If Sylfi or Brita spotted anything, or scouts relayed sightings to Nemertes, any one of them could send him a message. In turn, he would be able to do the same on his side.
And so there he waited upon Abigail’s back, circling like a vulture, spying the horizons on all sides. He reached out with his beast sense, but there were only a few rodents and their predators scouring the rocks for food below.
Because of the time dilation caused by the Black Realm, the infantry portion of his army, though they marched far slower than the dragons flew, would be arriving at about the same time. They might even be in the area already.
He was going to have to retrieve them if Vorgon and Denfidal didn’t show soon, because he didn’t want to leave his army vulnerable to attack by the denizens of the Black Realm. He also worried they might run into Denfidal: maybe the Balor was chasing them at this very moment, and they were looking for the portal back, but couldn’t find it because it didn’t yet exist.
He had to balance the fact that he wanted to open the portal as close as possible to Denfidal’s eventual location, with the gnawing fear that the infantry portion of his army was currently engaged in a fight for their very lives. He almost told Ziatrice, who was back at the main army with Nemertes, to fly to him so she could open a second portal.
But he held back.
Mauritania, Weyanna, Solan and Gannet can take care of themselves, he told himself. They’re all right. I know they are.
At least, he prayed that was true.
It’s going to be dark in a few hours, Abigail said over the mental link he shared with his companions. Apparently, she sensed his impatience, and perhaps was feeding upon it.
We’ll wait here as long as it takes, Malem returned.
What if Denfidal has chosen not to strike at Manu next after all? she pressed. What if Goldenthal… Banvil… is wrong?
Then we try again somewhere else, Malem replied. And we keep trying, until we finally track the demon down.
But Denfidal will grow in power with each Balor that falls, Wendolin chimed in from closer to Nemertes. And soon Corinne will not be able to defeat him.
You forget, she isn’t alone, he said. We’ll find a way. You and I defeated Vorgon, after
all, when the odds seemed hopeless. We will prevail.
She had nothing to say to that. No one did.
And so he kept up his search of the far horizons.
And then, finally, his beast sense went off.
He turned his attention to the southeast and spotted them on the horizon.
His heart began to race.
They’re here, Malem announced. Denfidal and Vorgon have arrived.
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Retreat, Malem told Abigail. And fly lower. Make sure they don’t spot us.
You got it, she said, swooping down to skim above the rocky landscape.
Malem spoke directly to Nemertes. It’s time, old friend.
Old friend? Nemertes said. When I’m potentially about to fly to my death, suddenly I’m “old friend.”
Malem sighed. Come, Dragon. Bring my army.
Shit, Nemertes said.
He sensed fatigue from her, along with a good deal of reluctance to take to the air again, and so he drained stamina from the others, granting Nemertes a good amount.
He waited. Still she didn’t budge.
Nemertes… he sent.
She issued a huge sigh through their mental link.
Finally, her energy bundle began to close. She was on her way, as was Ziatrice and the other companions he had left with the main army. The dragons were coming to meet their fate. He sensed Sylfi and Brita approaching from the northwest and southwest respectively, as well.
Malem kept an eye on Denfidal the whole time. The demon’s dark body was silhouetted in green flames, and it carried its fiery halberd over one shoulder, the blade lodged against one of the vestigial wings upon its back. It held its tail above the ground as it walked, that metal-covered tip hovering menacingly above the dark host below. Upon its brow was a circlet, resting above the horns—it seemed to be fashioned of rib bones. Malem knew there was no other creature those bones could have come from, save for another Balor—they were far too massive. That meant Quartenan was dead.
When Banvil had died in this world, the demon’s body had disintegrated, its essence retreating to the Black Realm. But apparently when a Balor died in the Black Realm, that wasn’t the case, considering the bones…
That host seemed even larger than the last time Malem had spotted the Balor: by destroying Quartenan, Denfidal had probably inherited its rival’s army. Not to mention whatever boosts in power Quartenan’s death gave Denfidal.
Seven towering Stilt Walkers accompanied the Balor; they were just as tall as the demon, and their suction-shaped mouths swept back and forth in search of prey.
Oraks follow alongside on the ground below, blackening the gray rocks. They were joined by herds of four-legged reptiles with tentacled heads. There were also what could best be described as mini-Balors: smaller demons, about twice the size of the oraks, that resembled Denfidal to a T, minus the wings. Quartenan’s troops, perhaps, since Malem hadn’t seen them the last time.
The sky was quite literally black with gargoyles. They formed a huge swarm in the air above Denfidal, the further among them looking like a plague of locusts because of the distance. Twenty huge Black dragons accompanied them. Some were of a size almost comparable to Nemertes.
Vorgon, meanwhile, resided farther away to the south, surrounded by blue flames, ax in hand. Vorgon’s host seemed roughly the same size as before: despite however many had been lost in the dungeons beneath the Khroma mountains, the demon still had hundreds of uraks, no doubt as part of whatever deal Vorgon had made with Denfidal.
Above the Balor, six Reds circled. They seemed small compared to the dragons Denfidal kept, but the least of them was still twice as big as Abigail’s silver.
Vorgon departed south with its army. That was all the evidence Malem needed that the amulet at his throat was actually working, because if it was not, Vorgon would have been able to sense his location and would have been charging straight for him in that moment. At least, Malem assumed as much.
Doesn’t look good, Abigail commented.
It’s not going to be easy defeating them, Malem agreed.
Though on the plus side, Vorgon doesn’t seem to be aware of you, she said. The amulet must be working.
I was just thinking the same thing myself, he said.
I wonder if we can arrange it so that we fight them separately… she suggested.
I’m not sure that’s a good idea, he told her. Corinne hinted that her time here would be limited. If we fight them separately, we’ll probably only defeat one of them, while the other goes free.
I see your point, Abigail sent.
The silver dragon continued to skim close to that rocky terrain, moving away from both Denfidal and Vorgon. When Malem judged both armies far enough away, he ordered her to land, and waited for the others to arrive.
I hate this part, Abigail sent.
What part? he asked.
The time before battle, she replied. The tension can become… unbearable. I just want to start the fighting, and let it all the fuck out.
Don’t blame you, he said. I want this, too. If only to meet my fate head on.
Your fate… she told him. Did you ever imagine, when you were a child fleeing the Darkness, that one day, you would lead armies to destroy its source?
No, he said. I knew I was different, but I didn’t think that difference would make me a leader. I always thought I was meant to be an outcast. And before I met you, I was living that life to the fullest. The life of a nomadic outcast.
Funny how we can shape our own destinies, based upon the preexisting beliefs we have about ourselves, she commented. These beliefs can limit some of us. Trap us in prisons of the mind.
Maybe, Malem told her. But sometimes, I think I was far happier when I was a prisoner in my own mind.
You miss being a nomad… she said.
Good guess, he told her.
Maybe, when this is done, a vacation is in order, she said.
Malem could have laughed. That I will never disagree with.
He gazed at the Balors to gauge their progress. Vorgon was continuing south, Denfidal to the north. Actually, no, Vorgon was moving to the southeast, not due south, judging from the demon’s latest position. No doubt Vorgon was looking to circumnavigate the Harken mountain range to attack the human cities beyond.
Fly east again, he said. Get closer.
She took to the air.
He wanted to keep both Balors in range, but that would be tricky, as the two were moving in opposite directions. It helped that their respective advances were relatively slow and ponderous… he knew they were capable of much faster speeds, but he suspected they were conserving energy for the planned attacks.
Malem hoped to deploy his army as close to the Balors as possible, giving time for his ground troops to arrive in their entirety before the battle. The last thing he wanted was for Ziatrice to have to maintain a portal to the Black Realm while under attack: she’d be the main target of the enemy, who would try to mow her down if only to stop the flow of his army from the dark land.
When Abigail was close enough for his tastes, he had her land again. So far, it appeared the enemy still hadn’t detected them. His beast sense reported no other monsters for miles around, save for the dragons coming in from the west. He still sensed the usual rodents beneath the soil, but those would of course be of no help in the coming fight.
Sylfi and Brita arrived from their scouting positions to the north and south ahead of the main group: they flew at full speed, whereas the other dragons would have had to adjust their pace to account for the slower flight of Nemertes. The two of them lowered their riders to the ground—Xaxia and Timlir—and transformed back into humans to shrug off their large saddles. Though Sylfi and Brita were both naked, Malem spared either of them only the most minimal of glances: he was too distracted to be concerned with matters of the flesh. The pair retrieved pullover dresses from the saddlebags and quickly donned them. Sylfi took the red one, Brita the blue. They didn’t bother to equip their usual w
eapons and armor.
Ziatrice arrived next, atop the back of a Blue that had pulled ahead of the others. She landed next to Malem and dismounted. More Blues landed, and lowered the rest of his companions, along with several orak mages.
Abigail lowered a wing so that Malem could join the night elf on the ground.
When he arrived, Ziatrice held out an empty hand expectantly.
Her Dark Eye would still be recharging of course: Ziatrice couldn’t use it to open another gateway until a full twenty-four hours had passed since the release of the first portal.
But Malem had another.
From his backpack he produced the second Dark Eye, retrieved from the depths of the dungeon beneath the Khroma mountains. He placed it firmly in Ziatrice’s palm.
Without looking at it, she set down the item on the ground in front of her and sat down, cross-legged, beside it. Dark mist arose from her eyes and flowed into the sphere of infinite blackness. Behind it, a portal opened.
Malem glanced at Sylfi and Brita, and nodded.
The pair dashed into the gate and vanished within the darkness.
Timlir and several oraks followed after them, as did Goldenthall.
Ziatrice continued to maintain the gate with her dark magic while they were gone.
Dragons continued to land around him, including Nemertes, until finally the entirety of the dragon army had arrived.
“How close do you need me to bring you?” Malem asked Grendel, who had come to stand at his side, along with the other companions.
“As close as possible,” Grendel said. “The sword, too. Ideally, we want Corinne to be able to pick it up as soon as she appears.”
Malem nodded. “We’ll bring you right to Denfidal’s feet.”
“That’ll do perfectly,” Grendel said.
“What if you die before you arrive?” Xaxia asked.
Grendel smiled peevishly at her. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Xaxia shrugged. “Hey, it’s entirely possible.”
“If I die, then you’re all screwed,” Grendel said.
“Sounds about right.” Malem glanced at the Balors in the distance. Neither had given any sign that they noticed the gathering army to the west. Denfidal had glanced this way once, and for a moment Malem had been sure the demon had spotted them, but then it continued onward as if nothing had changed. Either it hadn’t seen him and his dragon army, or it didn’t care—to Denfidal, Malem and the dragons were like ants gathering on an anthill: an interesting sight, perhaps, but no threat whatsoever.
