The Dragon's Oath: A Dark Fantasy Romance Adventure

by Eden Redd

  Fire swords swung at the monstrous horde and the smell of burning flesh sparked across the area. Heads and limbs were lopped off as Strum’s men kept formation through the carnage. Grisly work ensued as soldiers struck down howling dead. Grunts rose up but the line held. Shield men moved up and took to the side of sword bearers. Monsters clashed into the shields and flaming swords cut at necks, faces and chests. Shield bearers stopped up weak points as swordsmen focused on their work. Movements calculated and maximum damage dealt. For a brief moment, no further lives were lost. Strum took another step forward and so did his men. They pushed back at the monsters as they slammed into shields and burned from flaming sword strikes.

  Behind the line, formations waited to fill the gaps while others opened holes along the side streets to let people slip in and make their way to the castle. The counter attack was neat and orderly as the line hacked at the undisciplined monsters.

  A soldier slashed and cleaved shadow elves until the horde shifted. Sword whipping out, he slashed across an exposed neck and his eyes went wide. The blank gaze of a citizen filled the soldier’s eyes and he recognized a cousin. Their jaw was slack and flesh missing in patches but it was them. The fire sword burned as the thing reached out, grabbing hold of the soldier’s armor and pulling him to them. The stunned soldier tried to regain his wits when teeth sank into his face, blood spurting. Gargled screams rose up as the dead relative gnawed at his nose and then his eye. The line faltered as the dead pierced its ranks. A moment later, the dead established a toe hold and ripped into the soldiers.

  Strum glanced to his right as the line began to break. Shouting orders, men from behind pushed at the breaking line to fill the gap. Flaming swords hacked at bodies but the horde surged. The fighting lost some of its power as dead citizens joined the undead shadow elf ranks.

  “They are no longer our people! Slay them with fire and retribution!” Strum shouted over the carnage.

  Despite the General’s orders, some soldiers lost their will as people they once knew began charging. Attacks slowed and the dead capitalized on it. The smell of burning flesh turned to a sickening stench of death as the monsters clawed and grabbed soldiers. The line cracked and men screamed as they fought for their lives. Strum rammed his shoulder into a shadow elf and became a man possessed. Knowing his men were losing morale, he unleashed his skills with a sword, pressing into the dark horde. Where others fell back from the tide, he pushed on, hacking and driving his sword into anything in front of him. The line pushed back but Strum became a whirlwind.

  Soldiers caught sight amid the monsters as their General hacked at the horde. Shouts of solidarity rose up and a new fire brewed. Growls and grunts rose up as men fought to regain losing ground and fight by their General’s side. The dead continued their assault, indifferent of all except the siren call of their master. A new song played and withered mouths opened, a voice filling their dead hearts.

  “Vvvvvoooooonnnnnnnnggggoooouuuullllllllll!” moaned the undead horde as they pressed their attack.

  Shadow elves and dead citizens joined in the chorus as they surged once again. Soldier’s eyes widened as they fought on. A chill seeped into their hearts when they heard the name of the very monster who sent assassins to kill their beloved Lord Harris Lockwood six years ago.

  Strum felt the vibration cascade amongst his soldiers. Even in his own heart, it stabbed with an icy chill. Again, the line began to crumble as herd panic ate away at discipline. Strum pulled back as he hacked at several shadows elves, sending their limbs back into the horde. The shadow elf monster was dead. He and Dorian saw the severed head presented on a silver platter. They witnessed the burning of his tower of horrors as Jyda’s father asked for no further bloodshed.

  “Voooooonnnnnnggggoooooouuuuulllllll!!!” the dead moaned once again.

  ***

  Dorian stared down at his city as a cold wind whipped at him. From his vantage point, he could see the outer homes where citizens and shadow elves crawled out. Some emerged from the sewers while many shambled forward. The main street of the kingdom filled with fire, shouts, screams, soldiers and dark bodies. Fleeing citizens fell one by one as the horde savaged their bodies. The chaos had bloomed to encompass the whole city; the main street running through it was the only beacon of safety.

  Dorian spotted the white hair of General Strum, “Drop me down at the line!”

  Nypha looked down and shook her serpentine head, “The line is going to be overwhelmed at any moment.”

  Dorian’s heart clenched in his chest, “Nypha, I must help my people!”

  The dragon turned an eye to her rider, “We will help our people.”

  Dorian nodded and hugged her neck as the dragon dived. Wings folded back, she speared downward. The lord clung for dear life and just as it seemed they were going to crash into the crowd, wings spread out and the dragon soared over rooftops. Eyes turned up to see the green and black dragon soar overhead, hearts lifting.

  Nypha’s snout opened with a greenish fire gurgling up her throat. The dragon’s eyes slitted as she observed the men fighting along the street. Slitted pupils widened as the need to expel the fire in her throat quickened.

  Strum slashed with his flaming sword but the horde pressed against him and his men. The white-haired general shouted in defiance when something dark flew overhead, fire pouring forth like a stream after a storm. The General looked up and shouted in triumph as greenish fire struck the thick horde.

  Dead shadow elves and citizens turned to ash in a blink of an eye. Nypha roared a stream of dragon fire, cleansing the streets of undead filth. Wings out, she caught the wind and soared up again. The dragon huffed as she tried to regain her breath. Nypha knew she could only spit a stream out like that a few times before she exhausted her breath. Turning, she flew over the buildings and prepared to make another run as dead poured down the blackened street.

  Dorian held on, watching the spectacle unfold. Nypha gurgled up greenish flames once again and a stream of fire surged forth. The incoming dead turned to ash in a flash. The dragon swept her head left to right, flames flooding side streets and alleys, burning the dead into nothing. After a long moment, the stream faltered and the dragon closed her jaw.

  Nypha took a deep inhale, unsure if she could do that a third time. Turning sideways, she let a ball of fire form in her throat, ready for a precise strike.

  Dorian’s eye caught a glimmer of light among the black horde. “Nypha!” he shouted.

  The dragon turned but a stream of lightning blasted from the street. The tip blazed upwards and struck the dragon at the delicate joint of her wing. Nypha cried out and her fireball struck a building, blasting it to stone shards. Spiraling, lord and dragon braced themselves before crashing down a street.

  Nypha’s body slid across the cobblestone street but she kept herself on her belly, fearing Dorian would be crushed. When she slid to a halt, the dragon groaned. Dorian let go and rolled off the dragon and onto his feet. Drawing Splitter, the lord moved to Nypha’s head and knelt down.

  “My love,” Dorian whispered, fearing the worst.

  Nypha raised her snout to him. “I’m okay,” she said with a wince.

  Dorian looked to her wing. The joint of the leathery wing blackened and blood dripped. “Can you change to your half dragon form? We have to make it to the line before the dead fill these streets.”

  Nypha rose up, “I will not be as effective as I am now.”

  Dorian looked around to see they landed in one of the larger squares of the city. A fountain filled the middle and abandoned carts lay scattered with pieces of bodies strewn about. The lord turned his back to Nypha, noticing the lengthening shadows coming toward them down every street. Sword up, the young lord prepared himself by taking a fighting stance.

  “Nypha, we need to retreat to Strum’s position before we are….”Dorian didn’t finish his sentence.

  Shadows shambled to the edge of the empty square. A figure appeared at the square edge, bodies tightly packed
behind them. Lit torches in the square cast a dim light in every direction and when the figure stepped into the light, a cold smile appeared on their dark lips.

  “My, you have grown,” the shadow elf said with a sinister smirk.

  Nypha was on all fours while Dorian stood before her. The figure moved into view, a shadow elf with long white hair, thin dark face and a black robe covering his body. Behind him, dead shadow elves and humanoid slimes emerged from the shadows, a primal gaze in their eyes.

  “Vongoul,” Nypha said with a cold gaze.

  Seventeen

  Vongoul stepped further ahead of his horde, pale red eyes on Dorian and Nypha behind him. The air took on a chill and Dorian exhaled with smoky breath. From several streets, the dead lurched into view but did not attack. Instead, they stood their ground as Vongoul stepped further out and stopped by the edge of the fountain.

  “I watched you through my assassin’s eyes. I watched as they murdered your father and then came for you. I still remember your face as you contemplated jumping from the tower,” Vongoul said with a sardonic smile.

  Nypha craned her neck and glared at the shadow elf, “Do you remember me when I ripped your men to shreds.”

  The shadow elf spoke but kept his eyes on Dorian, “How could I forget such a beautiful creature with such dreadful power. You managed to stop my designs and for that I must say, well done.”

  Dorian stared at the shadow elf as rage bubbled from his heart. A vibration took hold of the fabric of his very being as the monster that set this all into motion stood a mere ten feet from him.

  Vongoul’s gaze never wavered as he spoke, “I know what you feel. Take heed, by a simple thought, I can unleash my horde in an instant. They will devour you before your army and people can reach you.”

  “You….took him…from me…” Dorian said with a growl.

  Vongoul nodded, “I will not mince words. I did take your father. A small price to pay for everything he took.”

  The shadow elf’s face melted into mild disgust, “Your people’s foul stench still haunts my lands. Did you know, after your father’s many victories, he and his men would rape my people? How they enjoyed fucking our women and spilling their human seed in their bellies.”

  Vongoul’s eyes grew distant to a long-ago memory, “It was I who talked those affected into slaying the half breeds as they were born. My people only wished to explore but your people would not open your borders. My people wanted to leave the lands beyond the passes but your people murdered us on sight.

  “My people began to understand what I proposed. They fought for me, knowing full well the only course of action was to cripple your people before slaying them all.”

  “You lie!” Dorian spat.

  Vongoul gave a gentle chuckle, “No one wishes to hear the truth unless it is their truth. Your father was hero to your people but a demon to ours. He slew every man and child before taking out his perversions on our women. He tried to breed us out but I would not stand for it. If not for your dragon, your kingdom would already be in ruins.”

  Dorian gave the shadow elf an evil grin, “You speak lies. You cannot be the true Vongoul. I saw your head on a silver platter and your tower burned to a husk.”

  The shadow elf tilted his head forward, shadows covering his eyes, “My people know many magical secrets. You think I would begin my crusade if I did not take precautions. Death is not the end, for I stand here before you. My spirit grew a new, stronger body. My death only allowed me to dwell in the lands of lichdom. You cannot kill something that has no more life to give.”

  Dorian’s eyes narrowed, “Why do you tell me all of this? What do you have to gain….”

  The young lord turned his attention to an empty street. Something big moved along the cobblestones. Nypha turned her attention and her sensitive eyes pierced the shadows, a cold chill filling her dragon heart.

  A creature lumbered along, pale serpent eyes on the green and black dragon. Blue scales trembled like hairs on the back of an agitated cat. Patches of exposed bone shined in the dim light as the monster came into view at the edge of the square. Nypha and Dorian watched as Yypith appeared in the torchlight, the sides of his mouth exposed with torn edges and forming a permanent grin on his snout.

  Vongoul lifted his head, shadows melting away, “A dragon stopped my crusade, so I thought I would bring my own.”

  Dorian gripped Splitter as light appeared to his right. Glancing over, the young lord saw Strum leading his men to the edge of the square in formation. Their ranks were a little battered but they marched stoically to a stop. Strum stood with fire sword in hand and looking to his lord.

  “Thank you for joining us my lord. I was afraid you would miss the celebration of destroying this foul monster,” Strum said with a smirk.

  “And let you have all the glory, I think not,” Dorian smiled.

  Vongoul turned his gaze from Dorian to Strum and then back to Dorian, “The play is nearly complete.”

  Dorian turned his head slightly and talked out the side of his mouth to the dragon at his side, “Nypha, do you still have that journal?”

  “I do,” Nypha said as she continued to clutch the leather book in hand.

  “Can you find the last word to unlock Splitter’s final ability?”

  Nypha eyed Yypith as the dragon leered in her direction, “I don’t think I will have enough time.”

  Dorian kept his gaze on Vongoul, “Then we fight to the bitter end.”

  Nypha put the journal down on the street and turned her eyes to Yypith, “Dorian, I love you.”

  The young lord nodded, “I love you. Stay close and we may survive this.”

  Vongoul eyed his enemies. With a simple tilt of his head, the horde behind him howled with rage and surged forward like a flood. Dorian and Strum shouted and rushed the incoming horde, the city guards and soldiers following their leaders into battle. Both sides raced along until they clashed in a maelstrom of flaming swords, bodies and decayed hands.

  Dorian whispered the mystic word, Goll, and slashed sideways. A ghostly streak fanned out, cutting a dozen dead shadow elves and decaying citizens across their bellies. Foul ichor spilled as their bodies fell, more of their kind rushing over them. The young lord bent his legs and threw himself into the fray, Splitter slashing around and cutting through necks like a hot knife through butter. The young lord unleashed his rage and hatred, channeling it down his arms and legs and moving like a contained storm.

  Yypith roared before spitting a stream of blue fire. Nypha curved her body, dodging the stream. Greenish fire spilled from her maw and she unleashed a torrent of her own fire breath. Yypith advanced as the flames struck him. The dragon’s pale eyes showed no pain as it pressed on against the living flame. Decayed skin and scales melted slightly as the undead dragon turned his breath again at Nypha.

  The green and black dragon took a step back when a stream of blue flames struck her shoulder. Nypha cried out as the flames sent a numbing chill through her body. Arm not responding, it slumped to her side as she tried to pull away from the blazing stream. With a deep breath, she screamed a fireball at the undead dragon. Yypith took the full brunt of the blast, its body lifting and slamming into a building edge. The building cracked as the dragon slumped to the street. Head craning up, blue fire spilled from the dragon’s mouth, preparing another blast.

  Nypha struggled to regain feeling in her arm. The flames Yypith used were not living fire. She knew if he struck her a few more times, she would be paralyzed. The square lit up as the green and black dragon returned her own fireball after fireball.

  Dorian’s body moved like a dancer, slicing and dodging the dead. Anything that was too close lost an arm, leg or head in the process. Years of learning to fight led to this moment. Body moving to the rhythm of battle, he cut a wide swath around him as the dead fell in pieces.

  The young lord whispered “Goll” once again and a crescent slash of energy cut through the dead in a blink of an eye. It was then, a pain stabbed
into Dorian’s heart. It was slight but it was enough for him to take note. The young lord continued to slice and slash at the horde with a memory rising at the back of his mind. He recalled his father speaking in hushed tones with General Strum of the weariness he felt when he used Splitter too often. Had his father kept the price of using the magical blade a secret? Is that why he didn’t tell him about its other abilities?

  Strum and his men formed a defensive line and hacked at the incoming dead. Vongoul took notice of the flame-sword wielding men and whispered arcane words only the dead could hear. In the blink of an eye, the dead grappled with the soldiers, some pulling the flaming swords from the very men they fought and hacking downward with them. Men screamed as fiery swords cut at them. The tide shifted as the dead used tactics, grouping and grabbing at soldier’s weapons, even if they burnt a limb off trying.

  Strum pressed on, slamming his sword into the trunk of a shadow elf with putrid blood spraying against his armor. Senses alive, he could see that the enemy was rearming themselves with the corpses of his fallen soldiers. The dead moved with flaming blades, assaulting the line with depraved indifference. Men screeched and grunted as they fell. The dead moved with purpose as their master pulled on unseen strings.

  The line began to buckle once more and Strum pressed on until a sword strike flashed against his armor. Flames licked at his face as he turned away, whipping his sword back and forth. Eyes dazzled, he couldn’t regain his balance and stumbled into a soldier as one of the undead plunged a sword into him. The soldier cried out as he fell, taking Strum with him. The General pushed off and was back to his feet when white heat flashed again and one of his eyeballs sizzled in his head. Strum brought his blade up, knocking the sword point touching his eye socket and backed off. With one eye, he regained his balance and watched a shadow elf strode toward him, sword up.