Emperor

by Isaac Hooke

  Sylfi and Brita abruptly returned through the black portal. They were breathing hard, as if they had run a marathon. They’d also exchanged outfits—Sylfi was wearing the blue pullover dress, and Brita the red, which told him they had transformed inside, as expected.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “We’re good.”

  Mauritania, Weyanna, Solan and Gannet emerged from the dark portal next.

  “You made it,” Malem told them.

  Mauritania nodded. “Our journey was relatively uneventful.”

  “That’s a good thing,” he said.

  “I suppose. Though I was hoping for at least a few foes to whet my blades.” She glanced at Ziatrice. “You might want to enlarge the gate.”

  Ziatrice didn’t answer at first, and Malem had to repeat the command. Then the night elf allowed more dark mist to flow into the sphere, and the portal grew.

  Basilisks, hill giants, and ghrips emerged—the latter tucked in all their tentacles to squeeze through—and took up their designated positions behind the dragons.

  “The army wasn’t far,” Sylfi said. “I did a quick sweep and found them a short ways to the south, circling the area, waiting for us.”

  “You really had no trouble from any of the dark denizens?” Malem asked Mauritania. “Or my army itself?”

  “None,” the half Eldritch commented. “They behaved like a well-oiled machine. Though I think the fear imbued by being in the Black Realm helped ensure they obeyed me to the letter—none of them wanted to be stranded in that terrible place.”

  “I was worried Denfidal and Vorgon would spot the army,” he told her. “And for a while there I convinced myself the demon was hunting you down. I almost opened the gate early to look for you.”

  “Probably a good thing you didn’t,” she said. “Because you might have walked right into the Balors. We actually spotted the demons before we arrived, and kept well away from them. We mirrored their advance for a short distance, until their armies reached the borders of Manu’s territory and left the Black Realm. We stopped at the periphery of the territory ourselves, deciding to wait for Sylfi and Brita there.”

  The procession of monsters through the portal switched to the smaller, man-sized types, and Ziatrice allowed the gate to diminish in size once more. Night elves emerged first, and they assumed their places in their respective brigades, spreading out across the plain between the dragons behind him.

  Malem gazed into the distance. “Vorgon’s almost out of view.”

  “That’s not good,” Abigail said, still in dragon form. “I thought we wanted Corinne to fight them both.”

  “We do,” he told her. “Weyanna, Sylfi, lead some dragons to Vorgon. See if you can bait them into following you.”

  “Why don’t you simply try removing that instead,” Goldenthall said, pointing at Malem’s throat.

  Malem touched the amulet at his neck.

  “Remove that, and you’ll become like a beacon to Vorgon, lighting up in the night sky,” Goldenthall said.

  “But it’s not night,” Xaxia said.

  “Not yet, no, but he’ll still draw the demon like a moth to the flames!” Goldenthall told her with a cackle.

  Malem shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

  He fingered the amulet at his neck, but didn’t yet remove it.

  “Well?” Weyanna said.

  “I want more of the army to arrive first,” Malem said.

  “So you don’t want us to bait Vorgon anymore?” she pressed.

  He shook his head.

  He waited twenty minutes. By then, the night elves had entered completely, as did all the Eldritch, men and dwarves. The oraks were only beginning to arrive.

  Vorgon had vanished beyond the southeastern horizon, while Denfidal was barely in view to the northeast.

  Malem waited for more oraks to enter, and when he judged that eighty percent of his army had arrived, he slid the amulet off his throat.

  He heard a roar in the far distance. “My beast sense tells me Vorgon and his host are approaching. Fast.”

  “Now you’ve done it boy!” Goldenthall said.

  “But you told him to!” Timlir said.

  “Oh, I know!” Goldenthall said, giggling.

  Malem heard a buzzing in his head, and quickly lowered the amulet around his throat. The droning vanished.

  In the distance, he saw Vorgon reappear, rampaging over the horizon. The demon’s dragon companions had darted ahead, and were headed straight toward him.

  “Uh-oh,” Weyanna said. “You were right to wait.”

  Malem glanced at Ziatrice, who was yet maintaining the portal. He had to lead those dragons, and Vorgon’s host away from her until the rest of his army arrived. Ideally, he wanted to draw Vorgon right to Denfidal, so that Corinne could vanquish them and all of this could end.

  He supposed it was about time to fight anyway.

  “All right,” he said, gazing at his companions. “The moment we have been waiting for has come to pass: we bring doom to the Balors.”

  36

  Malem ordered several oraks down from their Blues so that his companions could take their mounts, and instructed the stranded monsters to guard Ziatrice, who of course had to remain behind. The oraks obeyed, and formed a protective circle around the night elf.

  You want some night elves among your guards? he asked Ziatrice

  Hell no! she said. I can’t trust that one of them won’t try to stab me in the back to take my position as Black Sword. I prefer oraks. They fear me.

  I’d kill any night elf that touched you, he said.

  She smiled fiercely. Yes, but I’d already be dead by then.

  Good point, he told her. Oraks it is.

  He turned toward his companions. His Black Swords. “Relay the order to your lieutenants: the divisions are to begin the march to Denfidal immediately. March in the assigned formations. The dragons will lead the way, and the ground divisions are to join us as soon as they are able.”

  His companions quickly dispatched the orders to their lieutenants, and then mounted the Blues that had been evacuated by the oraks.

  As Ziatrice was presently occupied, Mauritania handled the night elf’s lieutenant.

  “Ensure her orak guards instruct the others to follow as they emerge,” she told the elf in question, as Ziatrice was responsible for not just the night elves, but also the oraks and goblings.

  “It will be done,” the elf said.

  Mauritania nodded, and then mounted a Blue.

  None of them rode the Metals, even though Sylfi and the others had already transformed back into dragon form: Malem wasn’t going to take any chances. Denfidal specialized in anti-dragon debuffs, which the party had learned, to their detriment, during their previous encounter with the demon in the Black Realm. And who could say how many mages among the enemy were equipped with debuff scepters, of the kind the agent of Vorgon had used during the attack on the inn?

  No, it wasn’t safe to ride the half dragons. The Metals had in fact donned their saddles, but only so that they could retrieve their gear if they were forced back into human form. They planned to fly close to the ground, so that if they did unceremoniously turn back, they wouldn’t take too much damage in the fall.

  Malem clambered up Hastor’s wing with Grendel, and sat in the saddle the dragon bore. He removed his backpack, grabbing a waist harness from within before shoving the pack into one of the saddlebags. Grendel approached, and hiked up her dress to take her place behind him. The saddle was too small to fit two people, so she sat on the rear lip. He tightened the waist harness around the two of them to secure her in place, and only spared the most fleeting of glances at her bare thighs. Which were certainly looking very nice today.

  “Wish me luck,” she said, sounding so very sad.

  “Luck won’t be needed,” he told her.

  “If Corinne dies, I die,” she said.

  “Oh,” he said. “That I didn’t kno
w.”

  “We’re linked now,” she said.

  Malem nodded. “Then we’ll just have to make sure Corinne doesn’t die.”

  Like the other Blue and Black dragons, Hastor was trained to respond to foot and leg pressure, changing course based on the intensity and angle of said pressure, however Malem preferred a more direct communications line. Thus, he reached into Hastor’s mind, and the Black surrendered to him, allowing Malem to Break it without too much effort: monsters he had previously Broken at some point never drained him as severely as newly broken foes.

  It’s good to be in your service once again, Master, Hastor said.

  It’s good to have you, Malem agreed.

  To the southeast, Vorgon was still incoming, with the demon’s red dragons taking the lead.

  “Into the air!” Malem ordered.

  The dragon army took flight. They hovered in the air, waiting for Nemertes, who was slow to rise. Malem fed her stamina, and she ascended a little faster, joining the others.

  Forward! He ordered Nemertes.

  Yes, yes, she sent. It’s time to fly to my death.

  Don’t be so dour, he told her. You’re the one most likely to survive.

  Am I now? she asked. I’m the only one with a Balor’s sword strapped to my back! That kind of makes me a target, I would think.

  We’ll be around you at all times, he promised.

  She advanced, and the dragons assumed a spherical formation around her and matched her speed as they proceeded forward. Malem drew Hastor close to her, so that Nemertes was lumbering along just below, with that giant Balor sword in full view strapped to her back.

  His core team members remained near, keeping close to him and Nemertes. Abigail and the other riderless Metals. Gwen, Mauritania and the rest, perched upon the backs of different Blues. He gazed past them, at the other dragons accompanying him. That army of Blues and Blacks.

  He thought of all those dragons as his Defilers, because they—and he—would have to channel their inner Defilers if they wanted to win this. But the dragons called themselves the Blue Hornets, a name Nemertes had given them when she formed the brigade.

  “Why hornets?” Hastor had complained. “Hornets are such tiny, insignificant things.”

  “Yes,” Nemertes said. “And yet they pack a mighty sting.”

  “Huh?” Hastor said. “Their sting can’t even penetrate our scales!”

  “Perhaps not, but have you ever accidentally inhaled a hornet’s nest?” Nemertes said. “Not the most pleasant of experiences.”

  “And why Blue?” Hastor complained. “That’s discriminating against us Blacks!”

  “Because I’m the fucking commander!” Nemertes roared. “And I choose the names! Now get out of my face, before I wrap your tail around your neck and turn you into a pom-pom.”

  Malem led them northeast, toward Denfidal. On the Thaadamus plains behind him, the dark army marched at a fast trot in the same direction, maintaining their brigades. As more oraks emerged from the portal, they quickly rushed forward to join the others. The ground troops lagged behind the dragons, of course, and would probably arrive ten to twenty minutes after the airborne units took first blood. The Blue Hornets would have to hold their own until then. Malem still hadn’t decided whether he would wait for the ground troops to join battle before summoning Corinne. It depended on how desperate things became out there.

  To the southeast, three of Vorgon’s red dragons swerved to intercept the airborne unit; the remaining three headed toward Malem’s ground troops. Vorgon seemed to be making for the ground troops as well—the demon wouldn’t know Malem was among the dragons, not with that amulet resting firmly on his throat.

  Malem removed the amulet, and the buzzing came into his head. He quickly replaced it.

  On cue, Vorgon swerved toward him. The Balor shouted something, and the remaining Reds changed course to intercept Malem’s airborne army so that all six headed toward him. Good, that meant he wouldn’t have to leave any of his air units behind to protect the ground troops. Not that he really needed to—with so many Eldritch among his host, if any of Vorgon’s dragons attacked, the airborne foes would be felled in short order by the Green Rot, even if all of them were bigger than Abigail and the other Metals.

  But Denfidal’s dragons were a whole other story, belonging to a class in and of themselves. Because of their massive size, Malem doubted the Green Rot would affect those dragons in any meaningful way, causing more of a scratch than an actual wound. Same thing if used against those Stilt Walkers. Malem wasn’t sure how the army would defeat them when they arrived.

  But he had realized long ago it wasn’t necessary to win against them. His purpose, and the purpose of his entire army, was to serve as a distraction so that the Paragon could fight, and hopefully win. When the Balors fell, Malem and the others would simply have to flee if the enemy host did not break after that.

  Ahead to the northeast, a swarm of gargoyles was breaking away from the main body, and turning back to intercept Malem and the others. Five of the huge black dragons joined them. One of the Stilt Walkers also turned around. Its mouth was at about the same height as the Blue Hornets flying at the lowermost portion of the spherical formation.

  Spread the word, my Defilers! Malem sent to those bound to him. We plow through! Continue toward Denfidal!

  He heard the booming voices of Abigail and the others, announcing his intentions. The word was passed down the ranks to the other dragons in the sphere formation, so that they all understood.

  We’re your Defilers, now, huh? Gwen said.

  I meant Blue Hornets, he said distractedly. His gaze was upon the incoming swarm, and the dragons with them.

  Now that he was closer, he realized that the Blacks were even bigger than the last time Malem had encountered Denfidal. Their size must have been tied to the demon’s power in some way. The Green Rot would definitely have little effect against them.

  He focused his attention on the gargoyles. He reached out, and was pleasantly surprised to find a few weaker-minded monsters among them. There weren’t as many as he’d find in a similar group of ordinary oraks or goblings, but the sheer number of them insured he would field enough for his purposes.

  He held back on Breaking them for the moment. He needed a way to recoup the stamina drain, first, without tiring those who fought for him…

  Several fire elementals appeared, created by Abigail and other dragons possessing the necessary magic; fireworker mages among the riders summoned more elementals from the flames of the previous fire entities, so that the creatures seemed to sub-divide, doubling. Most of the elementals accosted the eyes of the five black dragons in an effort to blind them. The remaining intercepted the gargoyles, and attacked with flaming swords and axes, sending the gargoyles falling, sizzling, to the ground below.

  Malem was careful not to look the incoming dragons in the face, lest they paralyze him with their eyes. Before the battle, he had given the other riders similar warnings, and around him, he saw that they, too, were looking away. And not just Gwen and his companions, but the Eldritch, night elf, and other races riding the Blue Hornets.

  With his beast sense, he felt the five black dragons pulling ahead of the gargoyles; those massive wings no doubt imparted incredible speed with each flap.

  He switched to Abigail’s viewpoint to watch the dragons approach through her eyes.

  The five huge dragons bit down on the elementals that assailed their faces, and swallowed them with one gulp.

  So much for blinding them, Abigail commented.

  It was a nice dream, Weyanna agreed.

  In moments, the five dragons were passing through the ranks of Malem’s army. As the closest members of the Blue Hornets passed, they raked their talons across the backs of the enemy dragons. They caused deep wounds, but because the dragons were so big, those wounds were otherwise relatively superficial. The big Blacks in turn lashed out at their foes with their talons, causing debilitating gashes in their sides
. One of the Blacks snapped at a passing Blue, and tore its throat clean away. The Blue died on sight, plunging to its death with its rider.

  Some of the closest Blue Hornets breathed acid and ice at the faces of their foes, trying to blind them; the dragons simply opened their mouths, and devoured the attacks. They breathed acid in turn, often successfully blinding the closer enemies, or melting their riders.

  The enemy dragons also unleashed streams of dark magic. Though the magic wouldn’t harm the intact scales of a dragon, it was lethal to the riders, whom they were apparently targeting—those riding the dragons in front of Abigail were purposely avoiding looking at the enemy, and thus didn’t even notice when black mist hurtled toward them. It struck them, and the riders toppled in their saddles, black veins inching up their faces as it disintegrated the flesh.

  Zig-zag, he ordered Hastor. Don’t let them target Grendel and I!

  The dragon obeyed.

  Malem sent a similar order to the dragons bound to him, and they passed it down the ranks.

  Nemertes sent light magic up at the Blacks in the form of a debuff, in an effort to curtail their dark magic.

  Piss in a beer flagon! Nemertes sent after a moment. It didn’t work. They have strong wills.

  Save your strength, Malem told her. He felt her flagging from the effort, and was forced to feed her stamina, taking from Gwen and Wendolin.

  Ahead, two of the enemy dragons headed straight for Nemertes.

  Dive, Malem ordered Hastor and his companions, including Nemertes.

  The lot of them dove out of the way, and other Blue Hornets meanwhile swooped upward to intercept the incoming dragons. In moments the enemy had passed—Malem and the others had successfully avoided tussling with them.