Swords of the Six

by Scott Appleton

  The warriors attacked and Brian begged Xavion to release him. “You can’t face them alone! Not like this! Please, Master, let us fight together!”

  Xavion looked down at him, held his gaze. Brian knew that the captain could read rage in his eyes.

  As Xavion released him, Brian swung around, letting loose his whip and cracking it in Hestor’s face. The warrior’s face cracked open and he covered it with both hands, dropping his sword.

  Xavion bellowed at Letrias as the man thrust his sword at Brian. He battered back the handsome, thinner man with his sword and punched him in the chest, sending him panting to the ground.

  Clavius and Auron converged on Brian. Expertly they thrust and parried, staying ahead of his sword maneuvers. He dropped his whip. It would do him no good in close combat. His already tired body refused to move quickly and his white blade faltered against the crystalline ones wielded by the two warriors.

  “This is madness! Why? Why are you doing this?” He saw Xavion stumble under Letrias’s fresh attack. “Why?” the old warrior repeated. And blood ran from his eyes instead of tears. “Why?”

  “Oh, please.” Letrias spat on the ground, stood back to catch his breath, and brushed the dirt from his garb. “Isn’t it obvious old man? The time of the white dragon is drawing to a close. A new era is coming and we want to be part of it.” He smiled sardonically and gestured to Kesla. “And now watch your prize pupil show you what he is learning.

  “Kill him, Kesla!” Letrias laughed. “Do this deed or the agreement my master offered you is nullified. Kill the captain!”

  Brian dropped to the ground as Clavius and Auron struck at him with their swords. He rolled to the side, picking his whip off the ground and then standing. Without hesitation he loosened it and snaked it around Letrias’s legs. The man fell, weightless. Brian pivoted on his foot, snapped the whip. Letrias flew through the air like a rag doll and struck a boulder before sliding down its face, landing on the hard ground with a dazed expression on his face.

  He turned, looking for Xavion.

  Tears ran down Kesla’s face. He had engaged in a duel with Xavion. Their movements were blinding fast and their blades rang against each other again and again. The sun rose in the east. Its first rays glinted off a brass ring on Kesla’s finger.

  Auron and Clavius rushed into the fray and Hestor, snarling through his bleeding face, struck Xavion from behind. Even as the aged man fought for his own life he pleaded with them to spare the prince’s.

  “Cowards! What have you become? Why are you doing this?” Soon sobs rocked his shoulders.

  Dropping his whip, Brian rushed to Xavion’s aid. He slashed his white blade everywhere the traitors’ crystal ones appeared. He gazed into the faces of the men, their blades poising to kill. Dark-featured Auron had once fought with him in battle against the wizards. Hestor and Clavius? They’d been brothers and uncles who’d taught and defended him. Now they wanted to kill him and Xavion.

  Why? Why? Why? He felt the tears fill his eyes and heard himself repeating the question aloud over and over again. “Why? Why? Why?”

  “Stop it,” Kesla sobbed. “Stop it! I can’t stand this anymore!” He swung his blade, Brian parried and his eyes locked for a moment with the traitor’s. In that instant Brian saw regret, anger, and confusion in the man’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Kesla choked out.

  Somehow Brian believed him. Perhaps it was because he needed to, and because he wanted to. During that moment he found the courage to forgive Kesla for the ghastly crime he was committing, even as he fell under the weight of Kesla’s swing … and felt his back split open, his insides twisted, another crystal sword of the Six impaling him.

  He saw Letrias stumble up to Xavion from behind and grasp his charred shoulder. “You’ve failed, old man!” Letrias drew back his sword arm and thrust his captain through his back. The sword’s point protruded through Xavion’s chest.

  Xavion fell to his knees, sliding off the blade. His blood, on Letrias’s sword, spread from the point all the way up to its handle, then drained off, leaving rust in its wake. Hestor and Clavius gasped and dropped their weapons. The swords sank into the crimson pool forming around Xavion. The blood covered their weapons as it had Letrias’s, leaving them covered in rust.

  Choking on his own blood, Brian fought for air. He could hear Auron laughing, as if this were all a joke, but the sensation of the blade sliding painfully out of his back proved that it was not.

  The white-bladed scimitar slipped from Brian’s fingers and he fell forward in a kneeling position. He knew now … he knew that death was coming, but he smiled to himself in spite of it. What was death but a threshold; the threshold to eternity with his Creator.

  “My poor boy, please … please forgive me.” He heard Kesla’s voice plead into his fogging mind. He tried to reply that yes, he was forgiven—but he could not. Blood had flooded his lungs and clogged his throat.

  A roar filled his ears. With his last strength he pulled his sword toward himself and broke it, broadside, across his knee. The enemy would never use it.

  The ground shook violently and, as his vision darkened, he saw a flash of white dragon scales dispelling the darkness and knew that salvation had come … too late.

  SHIZAR PALACE

  Albino the dragon took another powerful stride and the marble floor trembled beneath him. Nearly one thousand years had passed since the fall of his famed and beloved Six; the warriors in whom he had placed utmost confidence. But only one had stayed true. He felt a growl build in this throat. “It may have been better if I had killed Letrias, too.” He dipped his head beneath one of the white arches supporting the vaulted ceiling and his horns merely grazed it.

  The white-bearded man alongside the dragon shook his head. “That would have solved nothing. The roots of wizardry had already spread too far.” He tapped his hooked shepherd’s staff on the shiny floor and straightened his hooded, white robe. “If Letrias had fallen, another man would have risen to take his place, leaving Subterran no better off than it is now.”

  The dragon turned and his claws sparked against the palace floor. “You are right, Patient. But ever since that fateful day when the Six fell …” He sighed. “I wonder how things would have turned out if I had done things differently.”

  “Albino, my friend.” The shepherd’s ocean blue eyes looked up at him with naked honesty. “The past is passed. Let it remain so.”

  “Yes … the past is behind us.” Albino’s claws scraped the marble. He flared his nostrils. “But the future has not been written. Letrias will pay for his treachery … in time.”

  Gesturing with one clawed hand at an opening in the wall, Albino waited for Patient to precede him through the large doorway. The shepherd’s sandals whispered over the floor, his white robe draped comfortably around his shoulders as he took long strides into the spacious room.

  The man turned his head ever so slightly to gaze around the room. Patient bore himself with the sureness of a king.

  The dragon flexed his white wings. His palace was in no way small to other beings, but for his nearly seventy-foot-length it sometimes felt cramped. He pulled himself through the doorway. He stood to the side of the oval room, curling his bone-hard tail around his legs, leaving the rest of the room’s marble floor clear for Patient.

  Sunlight filtered through stained glass windows set high in the chamber walls. Rays of light streamed down, warming six eggs against the back wall, surrounded by fresh-cut, golden straw. The smell of the straw was pleasant, clean. It filled the air with a dry, grassy scent reminiscent of a warm spring day.

  Casting a silent, questioning glance at the dragon, the shepherd crossed the room and laid his hand on the egg closest to him. The white, reflective shell speckled with blue, stood level with his chest. Slowly he looked back at the dragon. “May I assume that these eggs are the reason you brought up the fall of the Six?”

  Albino growled. “War is brewing. Out of distant lands the wizard, Letrias, gathers followe
rs. Corrupt men, and a few women. I have seen the might he will wield and he will soon bring it to bear on the lands of the dragons, the lands of Venom-fier.”

  “Yes, I too have seen it.” Patient pulled his hand away from the egg. He fixed his undeniable gaze on each of the remaining eggs. “Letrias has grown powerful,” he said, his eyes pausing on the egg farthest from where he stood. “But you and I cannot intervene. You know the consequences if we do.

  “War is harsh, but I would rather its cruel lash strike Venom-fier than that he become less of a dragon than he is.” His sandals stirred small clouds of dust as he walked through the straw, approaching the egg farthest from him. He glanced up at the dragon. “We cannot interfere this time, my friend.”

  Clenching his jaws together, Albino rumbled deep in his throat. “We cannot afford to do nothing.”

  “I love peace as much as you do,” Patient said. “But we must look to our own lands and let a new history be written.” The shepherd reached out and touched the last egg, also blue speckled, but only waist-high. “Dragons and men, and all intelligent creatures of the world must learn that life is a gift to be protected and not taken for granted.

  “Let the war come. Let humankind and dragonkind learn to love the good and hate the evil.”

  The dragon relaxed his jaw. For a moment he had thought that the shepherd might oppose his plan. It was a bold one, conceived of not long after Letrias’s treachery. “Then let us think as one, my friend; for, a hero must rise among humanity in the days to come, or there will be no one to whom they can look for guidance. Dragonkind has the war-like Venom-fier and his wisdom to guide them in the days ahead, but humankind has no one.”

  Leaning over the egg, Patient put his ear to its shell. A smile deepened the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth. “I take it you have a hero in mind?”

  Albino gave a stiff nod of his elegant, horned head. “I have not directly chosen who that hero will be. I trust the Creator to show me at the appropriate time. But for the moment I have chosen the tool that will bring him when the time is right.”

  Stretching his neck, the dragon nuzzled the smallest egg. “I have poured all of my energy into this undertaking,” he said softly, turning his pink eyes toward the other five. “Each of these eggs holds one of my offspring. And one of my offspring has the power within her to bring about the wizard’s end, though not through war, nor by her own hand. Her role is vital. She will be special.”

  Patient again leaned toward the smallest egg, and Albino pulled away, his gaze locked on that egg.

  Closing his eyes, the old shepherd again placed his hand on the shell. “Special—yes, my friend—and she will be beautiful, strong through your blood, though not strong enough to win the war.” His eyes startled open, returned Albino’s gaze. Holding up his hand with fingers splayed, he closed it into a fist. “Letrias would crush her in a heartbeat.”

  “As I told you,” the dragon said. “She does not have it within herself to win the war, nor will the deed be executed by her own hand.” He focused on the smaller egg. “She is not the one to bring down the wizard. She is a means of bringing about his end.”

  “How?” The shepherd held up his hand as soon as the question left his lips. He faced the egg and closed his eyes while replacing his hand on its surface. After a long moment, his countenance brightened. “There are subtle differences between this child and her siblings. Playful, vivacious even. A lover?”

  Dipping his head in a slight bow, Albino rumbled satisfaction. “Among the six offspring I have created, she alone has the ability to bring about the salvation of humankind.”

  Withdrawing his hand, the shepherd looked up at the dragon. “I see no savior, no man able to turn the tide.”

  “That is because he is beyond your sight. The Creator will provide him when the time is right and I will know him. But he will come, nevertheless, and I will guide him into Subterran at a time I deem appropriate.”

  “Ah!” The shepherd smiled. “You plan to use the sword.”

  “Yes. It also is a tool to bring about Letrias’s end.”

  A shadow passed through Patient’s eyes. They half-closed. He seemed to listen to an inaudible voice, his head inclined toward his chest. Then he again stared at the egg. His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Have you seen this, my friend? Have you seen the future?”

  “Of what do you speak?”

  “Death; I see death. There is a dark path down which she must walk. One out of which I see no light—Wait! I was mistaken.”

  The dragon pointed at the egg with his claw. “You see, don’t you? You see with greater clarity?”

  “She will be born of both races,” the shepherd said in hushed tones. “And she will be gifted with physical beauty and fierce strength.”

  “A tool,” the dragon interposed. And he was pleased to see his friend frown in puzzlement.

  “Another tool? But what of the savior you mentioned?”

  “You will see, my friend.” The dragon set his foot back on the hard floor. “You will see.”

  Albino led the shepherd down the hall for a little distance, then faced the wall. He turned right and then to his left, searching. But not a soul was in sight.

  “Inner sanctum, open to me!” Immediately the wall turned to ice, the stones changed composition until they appeared semi-transparent and crystalline. Inclining his head, he indicated that Patient should proceed first. The shepherd stepped through the wall and it swallowed him out of sight, crackling behind him like a thawing cube of ice.

  And Albino followed. The wall felt cool on his scales, but not frigid as one might have expected. His snout broke through the wall first, then his head slid free and he pulled his body into moist, warm air.

  His muscles relaxed as he strode forward. The room he had entered was enormous, larger than any other in Shizar Palace … and more magnificent.

  Beneath his feet spread a floor made from a sheet of glass thick enough to bear his weight without cracking. A gentle river of water flowed under the glass. It reached only a couple feet deep and a bed of innumerable sapphire jewels glowed with radiant, rich blue light through the water and into the room.

  A gold altar rose from the center of the room on a pillar of gray stone. Encircling it stood a line of white dogwood trees. Engraved forms of children and women and men kneeling in prayer, graced the walls of the altar. The image of a winged dragon with head bowed in obeisance was etched into each of the four corners of the altar. Delicate white petals wafted down through the still air from the tree branches, covering the smooth floor.

  Albino delicately moved forward.

  Patient knelt before the altar and slid the hood off his head. And he remained silent for a time.

  The familiar high, black walls surrounded them. A stairway of stones, nearly twenty feet broad, curved up from the floor, ascending to the palace roof.

  Above him the ceiling was transparent. The clear blue sky could be seen through it, and a white cloud fled the wind.

  “Albino,” the shepherd said, rising to his feet and turning to look up at him, “my stay with you will be short. The flocks and herds of my mountains require my attention. In this season most of all.”

  Returning the man’s gaze, Albino let a flame escape his nostril. “The birth of my children is paramount, Patient. Your flocks and herds can do without your attention for a short while. I want you to witness this event.”

  “And I do not want to miss it.” Patient stepped away from the altar as a ray of sunlight angled through the ceiling and glared off the gold.

  “But you wish to leave?” Albino narrowed his eyes. “Why, my friend?”

  Stepping closer, Patient looked across the glass floor, his eyes seeming to follow the flow of the glowing water to the various plants growing along the walls.

  “It is nothing problematic,” the shepherd assured the dragon. “But I had to leave Corbaius and Melvin in charge during my absence. And … they have been at odds lately.”

  Wi
th a gentle shake of his head, Albino moved toward the altar. “Corbaius, I trust completely. His heart is pure.

  “But sometimes Melvin’s spirit feels”—he clutched for the right word—“elusive.”

  “He is a restless one, but harmless,” Patient said, following the dragon back to the altar.

  “I hope you are right.” Albino looked down at the altar, feeling the sunlight warm his bony crest. Upon the altar’s flat lid had been engraved: ‘To the one and only God and Creator.’

  “It is not always easy to discern the will of God, my friend. The powers I have been given must be used to further His will.”

  “And do you believe that your decision to create offspring, with the powers He’s given you, falls within His will?”

  “Yes.” Albino growled. A wisp of smoke curled from between his razor teeth. “I will raise them in the fear and love of Creator God. They will walk in His commands.” He let a long silence endure. “And evil will fear them as it fears me!”

  The dragon’s thoughts turned inward. He remembered the desecration Hermenuedis wrought upon a holy altar. A sacrifice of human blood made where a sacrifice of prayer had once been offered. Evil spirits spread their roots in that wizard’s soul and made their dwelling in the temple he’d erected for his mistress.

  “Let us pray that what you say will come to pass,” the shepherd said.

  “Come, my friend,” the dragon said, his claws clicking on the glass floor as his four legs ate the distance to the room’s wall. “I sense my children are preparing to arrive.”

  The black wall crystallized before him as he approached. He forced his head through the cool surface, buried his body in it, and emerged into Shizar Palace’s main hallway.

  A popping, cracking sound preceded Patient’s staff into the hallway. Then he stepped out, materializing beside the dragon and smiled up at him. “Of this I have no doubt, my friend: that your children will walk in the light.”