Draconic Testament

by Zac Atie

  ”No, no. I'm actually a little excited to learn. It’s just; I usually like competition in my sparring matches. It wasn’t exactly fair.” Bastion said.

  ”It’s alright. Nobody will probably even retell what happened down here. Nobody expected you to win… someday you may, though.” Veronica said “During training, we’ll have sparring matches too.” The thought of fighting a girl, even if it would be even, felt a little off to Bastion, though he didn’t doubt that Veronica would likely wipe the floor with him anyway. “It will be calm now. No more big surprises, or having your head filled with wild tales of Magi.” Veronica said. “Nothing from this point could possibly seem off to you, and there will be plenty of time to take it in.” Bastion smiled at Veronica, and luckily for him, it later seemed to Bastion that she was probably right. Varnis had sent the word out that Bastion was officially a Magi, and most Magi he met greeted him with a warm smile, and treated him like family.

  Chapter Six – The Dreadlord Draynar.

  Draynar the first of Clan Yumerga.

  The town was a smouldering mess of rubble and ash. Draynar overlooked the heaps of rubble and burning trees of one of the most beautiful and historic parks in the Sovereign States of Zolka, named the ‘Amber Fell’. The work of the Domini and the work of Magic. Around 5 of 18 states of Zolka had been taken over and occupied by the Domini, be that Godslayer’s Legion or not. The Godslayer’s legion began 2691 CY, during the DomiCazrian war, and it was comprised of Domini who had followed the Dreadlord Adda’Gorath in the defence of the Zolkan Portal, which connected the half-dead world of Dominion to Cazria. If the portal had been closed, the Domini on Dominion would have been doomed. It was a death sentence, and the only way they could have defended themselves was starting a war. The reason the Zolkan military had done this was because crime rates for Domini were going through the roof, and it was only getting worse. It wasn’t just the Domini, though. When other races saw how easily the Domini escaped after doing such horrific deeds, it wasn’t long before farmers and common folk turned bandit, plundering the once rich and illustrious sovereign states of Zolka. The Domini were violent creatures, though some tried to hide their lust for carnage and lead honest lives. The lust was overwhelming for many of the Domini, as the lust came from the tentacles atop their head, which replaced their hair. They detected Magic, and it would urge the Domini to join in the fight and kill all, indiscriminately. The ones that heeded these urges too much turned insane, and is referred to as ‘the lost’. After the Cazrians had saved them from their world, they had kept their heads low, and rarely fought anyone, however, when the Metholian civil war blew over the Zolka, Adda’Gorath had felt the need to help the Crusaders who had the good will to save their dying world against the dragon’s will. The death had been rampant, and it was forever on the Domini’s minds. Thanks to that war, the Domini had been turned to criminal, their crimes rising after the wars over the years. It got so bad, at one time, that the Zolkan military had made Alienages to lock away any accused Domini of criminal work. Many innocent Domini were locked away from a rather lengthy period of time, men and women both, and the weak were prey for the strong within the Alienages while nobody cared to help them. However, this didn’t last long, about two decades. Then, the Zolkan military tried to take down the portal in direct defiance of Metholi, which sparked the DomiCazrian war, and that had elevated to unstoppable points. It went from defending their lives, to willingly taking away others, and Metholi had come in to stop them. Sancterus put down Adda’Gorath and his family and quelled the Domini’s rage by giving them gifts and things they could work their rage on, namely an Arena in Dominion. However, Sancterus never put down Draynar. Instead, he took him as his apprentice, a young boy at the time. Sancterus had killed Adda’Gorath right in front of his son, Draynar. For that, Draynar returned the favour, and slew Sancterus and his wife, and fled to Zolka, where he riled up the Domini for their second war. However, both Zolka and the Domini were weak from their past war, even though Metholi was not likely to bother with this war. The Domini were slowly taking state by state, but of late, the fighting was starting to die down. Draynar was plotting his next moves, wondering what was next. The state he was in, which was called Northern Cross, was the most recent state that had been taken over. The fight was long, and hard, and lasted years, but like other four states, it eventually fell. Draynar was sitting cross legged upon the ledge on the roof of a skyscraper, looking out at the carnage around the city and beyond with an Arcana in his lap, when his advisor, Glackan, had come to speak with him, approaching from behind. “Dreadlord Draynar.” She said, approaching him.

  “I told you many times to call me Draynar.” Draynar said. “I'm not some high and mighty egotistical Dreadlord like my father. I'm hardly a Dreadlord at all.”

  “How could you say that?” Glackan asked. “Look at what you’ve accomplished.”

  “Burning, dead buildings. The residents we’ve enslaved are being brutalised, against my commands. They just follow me because of my blood.” He said. “It doesn’t bother me though. My ideals will become a reality, either way. This... This won’t matter.” He turned to look at Glackan, a slight smile on his face. That smile had always been there, for as long as Glackan could remember. Glackan used to be Draynar’s wet-nurse during his childhood years, as her breasts were huge and refilled with milk fast, fast enough so that Draynar and her own children could suckle the milk from her teats. When she had attempted to rescue Draynar from Sancterus’ grasp, and nearly gotten herself killed, but Draynar begged for Glackan to be spared. After that, Glackan had raised her own children and kept in contact with Draynar. “Problem, Glackan?” He asked.

  “It’s just... Our people...” Glackan said.

  “You know it won’t matter for the longest time.” Draynar said. “You know it will all be okay in the end. For everyone.”

  “I know... It’s just...”

  “Did you have a twin, Glackan?” Draynar asked.

  “Yeah.” She admitted. “I did.”

  “How long did she last?” Draynar asked. Glackan hesitated.

  “Died at the age of four. A hate crime.” Glackan said.

  “What was her name?” Draynar asked.

  “Polira, 62nd of her name, of Clan Ledger.” Glackan said.

  “So many before her had that name.” Draynar said. “I once heard a Cazrian say he was thankful that the Domini died young, because we usually spurt out twins. Everybody’s twin just... dies very quickly. We keep names and records in our family books, relics that hold records of the pasts, and also relics of a time when we were civilised. A time where we had futures. That was so long ago, so long ago that even our great grandfathers could only wonder what that time was like. Now, what do we have? Death. Constant death. Nobody wants us alive... Sometimes, when I watch the Domini, sometimes I wish I was Cazrian. Sometimes I wished I could just kill the rest of our race.”

  “How can you say that?” Glackan asked, hurt and confused. She was much older than Draynar, and used to tend to him when he was but a child. He had changed so much since that time. “I'm sorry.” Draynar said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t speak my mind so freely. It’s just; I am surrounded by people I can’t stand. I'm surrounded by Domini, who hate Cazrians and wants to kill anything they can get their hands on, or perhaps bleeding hearts who want revenge for their dead, and the townsfolk who I’ve sworn to allow no harm to come to spitting on us freely. I can’t stand it.”

  “I'm not like that.” Glackan said.

  “I know. For that, I'm glad. I’d have just jumped off this skyscraper by now if not for you.” Draynar said.

  “I think it’d just the stress of living in your father’s shadow that hounds you.” Glackan said. “His words haunt you, and his death. Adda’Gorath was a hateful man. He hated everything, and trusted nothing but those of his own seed. He trusted in you, and so far, you’ve conquered more than he could have.”

  “I don't know about that... But thanks, all the same.” Drayna
r said. “I’d just prefer it if the Domini could grow up with their birth twins, instead of being haunted by their deaths.”

  “I hear talk among the men of your heroics.” Glackan said. “Of how reckless you are. Just because you’re strong, it doesn’t mean you should charge ahead and risk your life so nobody else will die. You speak as if you’re hardened and as evil as everyone else, but you’re not. You’re kind, and the men can see that. Just... be careful.”

  “Apologies.” She said. “I'm babbling.”

  “It’s very much like you to babble.” Draynar said. “It comforts me. I used to listen to you forever all that time ago, back in that dreadful excuse for a palace, till I went to sleep, not that you’re boring.”

  “Seems like yesterday...” Glackan said.

  “Does it?” Draynar asked. “Honestly, I can’t remember. I feel like I’ve been sitting up here for years.”

  “You always say things like that.” Glackan said.

  “Guess I'm just bored all the time.” Draynar said.

  “Remember our old friend Torrig?” Glackan asked.

  “No, not really.” Draynar said. “Is that the Warlock girl that Sheol sent to split?”

  “No, that’s Yula.” Glackan said. “I'm talking about the male paragon. He’s really obnoxious.”

  “I don't recall. Continue, anyway.” Draynar commanded.

  “Well... He’s dead.” Glackan said.

  “How unfortunate.” Draynar said sarcastically.

  “He died on Earth. In a human town.” Glackan said.

  “A human killed him?” Draynar asked, catching interest. “That’s... haha! Golden! Are the humans losing their minds over it?”

  “No.” Glackan said. “A human did not kill him, at least, I don't think. His body was burned afterwards, so... It was either a Magi, or...”

  “Or?” Draynar asked, then, he caught an idea. “No, not him! He’s too young to take a Paragon...”

  “I'm sure Torrig would have tried to take him alive, so he wouldn’t have been going full out. Either that, or his Paladin slew Torrig.” Glackan explained.

  “This is... This is good! This is good!” Draynar beamed. “He needs to die, so that Sheol can’t get his hands all over him and become the ‘gods’ of the new race, as like likes to say. Then, our lord can put his faith in us.”

  “Don't we need him?” Glackan asked.

  “We needed Sancterus, and we need Adda’Gorath, but they fell victim to death, and we’re still working towards our goal. We’re still in the shadows, several steps ahead of everyone.” Draynar said. “Plus, we’ve been commissioned to our mission, and Sanctum has been commissioned to theirs, only theirs has paid off! If we let them take the cake, our lord will likely grant them all sorts of blessings, and we’ll be stuck as second-rate fools. I won’t allow them. We need to kill him.”

  “Draynar... Are you... alright?” Glackan asked, disturbed.

  “I’m fine!” Draynar snapped, his tentacles writhing in anger and excitement. Then he caught himself, rubbing his eyes. “I’m fine. This is me talking. This is what we need.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Glackan asked.

  “... I don't know...” Draynar said. “We can’t just search all over the area for him, can we? A bunch of Domini?”

  “No... I suppose we can’t...” Glackan said. “We have to think of something subtle.”

  “Sanctum have Cazrians to blend in the crowds with magic and cloaks, but Domini? We got tentacles that are meatier than hair, and huge tails like a Jackobi! What, do we shove them up our arses?” Draynar moaned. “We do have the girl to do the scouting work.” Glackan said. “What about her?”

  “The girl?” Draynar pondered. “With her teleporting skills, she’d do nicely. But, we can’t have her wandering around, looking for him, the Magi would catch onto her in time... We still need something to go on.”

  “Perhaps I can help you with that.” A voice from behind the two said. Glackan turned around, but Draynar did not need to. He knew who it was. The Philosophical Scientist, Ivorian, the creator Replication and the Demon of Nature. His Infamy knew no bounds, as he had created a device to duplicate a living body, and configure it’s features and genetics. His intelligence was unparalleled in this world, with the exception of Dhym, and perhaps Blight’s Children. However, despite all his intelligence, he was also infamous among the Legion for being obscure, and was rumoured to be completely deranged. There were disturbing rumours surrounding some of his habits and disappearances, something that Draynar was fully aware of. He had not shared what he had seen Ivorian doing with anyone. Despite all Draynar’s claims and ideals, he still had a soft stomach compared to Ivorian’s. Ivorian was an Ispii, with long hair and finely cut robes that would make a nobleman insecure. You couldn’t see his hands because the robes were hanging over them, and he had a mask with a smiley face on it, which was the complete opposite of Ivorian’s personality. He did everything odd. Everything seemed clumsy, and he rarely let anybody into his life as far as friends went. What people feared about Ivorian was what they didn’t know. “How can I help you, Witchdoctor?” Draynar asked. It was a nickname he called Ivorian to evoke some emotion, but he’d never seen any. He was calmer than Draynar. “I have the answer to your troubles.” He said. “The way to overthrow Sanctum and become the Lord’s chosen, if you want it.”

  “Of course I do.” Draynar said.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t.” Glackan said, disillusioned now that Ivorian was involved. “Let’s just go along with the tasks that our lord gave us.”

  “Glackan... What am I to do with you?” Draynar asked. “Constantly worrying over me.”

  “I worry over all of us!” Glackan scolded him.

  “Oh, quit it, fussball.” Draynar said. “Carry on, Ivorian.”

  “I had not informed you of this.” Ivorian said. “A couple of decades back; I was imprisoned by Laer and some woman from the Covenant of Dawn for war crimes on Metholi during the DomiCazrian war. Apparently, my mind was too important to throw away, so they had me kept in some resort prison. It was...” Ivorian trailed off into silence. Glackan shuffled uncomfortably, and warily, becoming rather intimidated, all the rumours she had heard rushing through her head, but Draynar sat patiently. Ivorian carried on, forgetting his last sentence. “After... Void knows how long of suffering and torture, they let me out in order to replicate someone. One last replication and I would be free to rejoin the fight for freedom. So, I did it. I recently found that replication.”

  “Who did you replicate?” Draynar asked.

  “The late head of the house Sylvarin, leaders of Sanctum.” He said.

  “But... Replication is incomplete! It would have killed him, surely!” Glackan exclaimed.

  “It did.” Ivorian scoffed.

  “Continue, please.” Draynar ushered, playing with his tentacle in his right hand.

  “That replication is on earth, and he had been on standby for my orders. He was being groomed into a killing machine to protect the little lord, but after capturing him, and I tortured the information out of him. I recently asked him to send our would-be saviour over to us, so we could use present him to Dhym, but... The boy disappeared, and now I can’t find him. But, I know where Torrig’s killer went. It was a Magi, and she’s going to Koreall. Add two and two together, and...” Ivorian explained.

  “I see...” Draynar said. “Send the girl. I want a sample of his blood in case we need it, to be safe, but she’s no good at combat without attracting a whole load of attention. Ivorian, get that Replica and your sick little mad king, and send him after the boy. We need him dead, or alive, but dead is probably better.”

  “As you say.” Ivorian agreed.

  “King Daviid?” Glackan asked. “This is going to end horribly, I can tell.”

  “If that’s all, Dreadlord, I’ll be leaving to carry out your orders.” Ivorian said, and with that, he left.

  “I... Dislike him, Draynar.” Glackan said.

&
nbsp; “I like him.” Draynar said. “He’s interesting, creative, and infinitely useful! But I don’t trust him. Oh no.”

  “You like him?” Glackan asked, broken hearted.

  “Don’t be like that.” Draynar chuckled. “It’s not what you think. I don’t consider him my friend, just my ally. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumours.”

  “There’s too many.” Glackan said. “But all of them would fit his character.” Draynar shuffled in the spot where he was sitting, wondering how much to tell Glackan. He felt a deep connection to her, but he felt torn between the decision of whether to trust her, or watch her intently due to her reluctance and sense of justice. “Here’s an interesting point for you.” He said. “This is why you should probably try never to get on his bad side. You ready?”

  “Of course.” Glackan said.

  “Well... Back during his days in the DomiCazrian war, he was hounded by two rich bounty hunters from Kirall. He was wanted for grievous war crimes against the Kingdom of Metholi. You see, Metholi are really a bunch of spineless cowards. While it was not true, evidence pointed towards the Kingdom of Cradle all the way in the south for some of his experiments, but they were never called out of it. Well, the two brothers were accompanied by a girl, who was the lover of the eldest. There were squabbles and disagreements between the two brothers about her coming along, and it was no secret that the youngest disliked the poor girl. The elder brother had a love for intense sword fights, and the younger was a more subtle type, using poisons and espionage for his kills. A perfect team. Even so, the two brothers were no match for Ivorian even together, not to mention Ivorian even had mercenaries to take them down, yet, he took a rather malevolent approach.” Draynar snickered.