Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon)

by Appleton, Scott

  A cold shiver ran down her spine. What did the dragon know that she did not? “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

  “Not now. Not here. First, we must finish what we came here for.”

  He wrapped his hand around her shoulders and looked again at Gabel’s burial stone. “Trust me,” he said. “Trust me.”

  She backed away with a bow and smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, Father, I did not mean to doubt you.”

  The dragon grasped the stone with one hand and removed it. Gabel’s linen-wrapped body lay inside, the sword rested upon him, and the crown was over it on his chest. “Hello, my friend.” Albino reached in and picked up the corpse. “Starfire, my daughter, take his weapon and the crown. It is time for us to leave.”

  With great difficulty she dragged out the sword and then hefted the crown. “See you soon,” she said. As she bowed her head to go, his jaw dropped. “Not even a good-bye kiss?”

  She walked up to him, waited as he lowered his elegantly boned head, and kissed him tenderly on his scarred cheek. Then she bowed her head again, and her hair caught fire. The flames spread, instantly covering her body. The city and the dragon vanished around her, and she set her mind on a familiar place.

  A chamber materialized around her, and she gazed past the blue marble pillar at its center to the bodies of the warriors of the past, all wrapped in linen and suspended from the ceiling.

  “Draconis? Are you awake?” She grunted under the weight of the articles she carried.

  From high above a pair of lanterns appeared, and a black form let itself to the floor by means of a thick webbing. A hunching black man stepped to the edge of her circle of light and held up his reptilian arm to shield his ebony eyes from her flaming garment. He wore black armor emblazoned with a white dragon on the breastplate. His curly black hair hung in dreadlocks past his shoulders. The back side of his arms had some sort of scales pointed outward in a vicious line. Gooey webbing dripped from secretion points between the scales. His arms reminded her of a spider, but as he stood and blinked down at her, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by his gentle power. He had to be about eight feet tall when standing straight.

  Draconis clacked his claw fingers together and stooped, grabbing the giant’s sword and then the crown. His gaze darted to the ceiling; he pointed his free arm upward and webbing shot from between the scales, catching on the stones above. He swung himself into the darkness, and soon a new cocoon slid into view.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait here.” She sighed. A series of clicks answered her. “Thank you,” she said and lay next to the pillar. Ilfedo’s face filled her mind and she wept. How she longed to rejoin him. But this life she now lived was no life at all. She’d already died. And the dead could not dwell with the living, or so she’d been told. At least she’d found some solace in meeting her daughter.

  Patient the shepherd had spoken of her curse, but with a twinkle in his eye had added, “God rejoices in giving his children all the desires of their hearts. Do not cease to hope, child. We serve a merciful Creator of love.”

  Dantress Starfire slept.

  As Specter strode down the highway through Netroth, the white dragon loomed out of a tomb with the linen-wrapped body of a giant under its arm. Kneeling, Specter waited. The creature’s footfalls shook the street, and it roared as it approached. When it stood before him, he gazed up into its pink eyes. The creature set the body on a nearby stone.

  “I sense something is wrong.” The dragon slapped its tail on the highway, cracking the stones. “Tell me. Is the traitor dead? Did he turn on us once again?”

  “Yes, my master. Auron turned upon us as soon as he left the city. But he . . .”—Specter clenched his fist—“he escaped.”

  The dragon raised its eyes and cocked its head to the side, returning his gaze. “A traitor who once escaped my justice and was spared it by thee. Tell me where he roams, and I will bring you to him so that you may end his miserable existence.”

  Specter shook his head. The portal into which Auron had passed to that strange land of ice and snow—to his knowledge no such place existed in this world. Either he’d seen an illusion, or some part of the world lay beyond his knowledge. With all the journeys he had taken, he found that hard to accept.

  A warm dragon claw touched the side of his head, and he watched Albino’s eyes close. “A forest—Auron fled there.” Smoke wafted from the dragon’s nostrils. “Underground? No, he went farther—a portal to—” The dragon’s eyes sprang wide open, and he pulled back his claw. He blasted a nearby stone block with flames. Around he paced, smashing huge stones with his scaled fist. Then he roared with such force that the highway seemed to resonate with the sound, and Specter covered his ears.

  For a while longer the dragon fumed. Specter cowered. Never had he seen the mighty creature respond this way to a dredged-up memory.

  “Bring me to him, Master, and I will slay him!”

  Albino growled. “No, Specter, for the place that traitor has entered is far beyond your talents. Auron has escaped, for now.”

  “Then you know that place? The mountains of ice?”

  “Indeed I do. But I fear nothing can pull the traitor from those mountains.” Smoke puffed from his nostrils, and flames played between his teeth. “Ancient are those mountains and deadly powerful is the adversary who dwells therein. But I will not speak of him now.

  “Auron has escaped, and I have a task for Starfire. Letrias, it seems, has learned of a well-guarded secret and has made advances to take advantage of his knowledge.”

  “Letrias!” At last, Specter thought, an opportunity to confront the master traitor.

  “Letrias sent a minion, a sorceress, to an ancient portal. Patient and I had thought only we two knew of its existence, but somehow the sorceress knew, and she used my own flames to open a passage to a hidden realm.”

  Specter stood and frowned.

  The dragon continued. “Long ago a key was forged by the greatest prophet, the Key of Living Fire. Do you know of which prophet I speak?”

  Specter nodded slowly.

  “After I killed Hermenuedis, the dragon Valorian led the remainder of his armies in an assault that destroyed a once-beautiful human city.” The dragon growled. “He wanted the Key of Living Fire but was instead entombed in the city by the power he sought. The prophet placed Valorian and his host in a state of endless sleep from which he is meant never to awaken. All the wizards believe Valorian was killed, but Patient and I know the truth.

  “Besides this, the key controls the power of Living Fire and, should it be taken, the weapon that I gave to Ilfedo Matthaliah will fail him. The sword would be like any other, and he would fall.”

  “What would you have me do?”

  Albino rumbled deep in his throat. “The sorceress must not reach the key. Should she somehow unlock the powers in that realm and deliver the key to Letrias—no, that must not happen. I desire you to again protect my daughter.”

  “If I may ask, Master.” Specter leaned on his scythe handle, grasping it in both hands. “What of Oganna?”

  “It is my will that she not become involved on this mission. She should stay in the Hemmed Land. I have chosen to entrust her father with this task. He will deal with the sorceress.”

  “But she could prove to be a valuable asset on a quest of this nature—”

  “No!” The dragon snapped its enormous mouth within inches of his face. “She must not be part of this mission. Only as a last recourse would I send her there, for she is too valuable. The future of mankind rests with her.”

  With a low bow, Specter stepped away from the dragon.

  The creature sighed and gazed upon him. “You have done well in protecting my offspring, even slaying the specter of Death himself. But you have served me longer than necessary. Come!”

  The dragon grasped the body of the giant in his claws and lumbered up the highway. It roared at the citadel, then shook its head and leaped into the air. Rapidly its wing
s drew it into the sky, then it angled around, fast descending toward him. Each time its membranous wings struck against the wind they clapped like thunder, sending reverberations for miles around. He clutched his cloak tight around his body as the dragon’s foot grasped him. As the creature pulled him into the sky, light gathered to it, the clouds parted, and in a flash it shot away.

  The journey to Emperia took only a short time. Specter’s shoulders ached by the time they shot over the dragon’s white palace. The dragon reached a mountain beyond the palace and struck his wings against his descent. Specter dropped onto the stony ledge and bent his knees to absorb the shock of that fall. Albino landed as lightly as a bird, the sunlight highlighting his membranous wings. Placing the king of Burloi in one wing, it wrapped the body in it and lowered its head. It stepped into the cave beyond the ledge, and its footfalls made the mountain tremble. The dragon’s scales glowed, lighting their path. Specter followed the dragon prophet deep into the mountain, across the bridge that spanned the underground river, and through the stone doorway beyond.

  At last they stood in the familiar chamber, and there by the pillar at the room’s center lay the dragon’s favored daughter. Dantress slept, apparently unaware that her father and former guardian had entered the room.

  Albino set the giant’s linen-wrapped body on the floor and smiled upon Dantress. The cool chamber’s silent darkness drew Specter’s gaze to the many bodies entombed here. He had once rested here, like them. Except for one big difference. “I did not die that day, my master. Did I?”

  With a swift turn, the dragon stared down at him. Its pink eyes roved the capsules, perhaps recalling the identity of each occupant.

  A dark figure descended from the ceiling. Black webbing trailed from its arms.

  Taking a backward jump, Specter brandished his scythe’s blade. “What in Osira is going on in this place? What is that thing?”

  He stepped toward the creature, but the dragon’s hand struck his chest and held him back, gently but firmly.

  The black humanoid wrapped Burloi’s dead king in webs. It held the body up with one arm while gooey webbing was secreted from the other to entwine the carcass. When a thick net covered the body, the humanoid grabbed the hanging webs and spider-climbed into the shadows. As it disappeared, it raised the giant’s body behind it toward the bodies suspended along the walls.

  “Do not fear him,” the dragon rumbled. “As you serve me in secret, so does Draconis. And as you were still alive when I brought you here all those years ago, so too did Draconis preserve you until I had need and awakened you. As you have accurately deduced, you did not die at the traitors’ hands. Rather, a flicker of your life survived just long enough for me to pull you from death.

  The dragon heaved a sigh as it gazed upon Dantress again. “The Creator bestowed a great blessing on you, Specter. You should have died that day. Here in this chamber lie many great warriors, some stronger than you. But every one of them awaits a life of service. A glorious service to be sure, but they have lost the opportunity to live among those they love and participate in that life. You, on the other side, never passed through death.”

  The dragon nuzzled Dantress with its snout, and the young woman stirred.

  3

  AN ANGEL CALLED MORONI

  Specter,” the dragon whispered, “you have a choice to make. You can now leave and begin life anew, if thou so desire. Or”—the creature smiled down at its child—“you can watch over this one, once again—on one final quest—and risk losing your life in defense of her and those she loves.”

  Tempted. Specter did feel tempted to leave. Who wouldn’t? After all these years serving the prophets, serving God, he could lead a life of his own. He could pursue friendships—even love. The moment passed. Inwardly he smiled. But he bowed to the mighty white dragon. Loyalty, peace, selflessness, mercy—these virtues and more flowed through his soul because of this holy one. He would serve—once more. “I made my choice all those years ago to defend the innocent and uphold the righteous.” He smote the stone floor with his scythe’s handle, willing his garment to render him invisible. The cloak shimmered, blended into his surroundings, and he watched as Dantress Starfire stood. He would watch over her as if she were his own daughter. But safeguarding her would be easier if she had no knowledge of his presence.

  “Father,” Dantress said, rubbing her tired eyes. She curtsied before the white dragon, and the creature rumbled deep and long.

  Albino’s pink eyes shone through the mask of light that rose from his facial scales to hide his deformity. He was the picture of raw, natural power held within an equally powerful body. “My child,” the dragon said. “Since the day you lost your earthly life, you have sought to be near your husband at every opportunity. But seeing you would prevent Ilfedo from reaching his potential. His distracted state of mind would ultimately lead to the demise of thy child.”

  Dantress hung her head, and Specter thought he heard a sob escape her lips.

  The dragon raised her chin with the edge of his claw and sighed. “I have a task for you that will be exceedingly difficult, but it must be done. The Key of Living Fire is in jeopardy, and I cannot enter the Hidden Realm. It is my desire to send you there—but this mission must be undertaken by Ilfedo as well. I will send him to join you. Yet you must not reveal yourself to him during your mission.”

  Closing her eyes, the woman shook her head from side to side.

  The dragon growled and lowered its head to gaze into her eyes. “Would you rather I send another? Is this task above thee? Tell me the truth, Daughter.”

  “No, Father.” With a bow Dantress opened her eyes, gazed up at the creature. “I will go and secure the power of Living Fire.”

  “Very well.” Albino summarized his encounter with the witch at the portal. The aura round his face pulsed with white light, then shimmered. When he had finished his tale, the dragon pulled her to his chest in an embrace. His massive scaled hands hid her from view for that moment. “God be with you, my daughter.”

  Dantress stood away from the dragon and bowed. Her hair erupted into flames. Specter, knowing what must come next, stepped close to her. Maybe she heard the rustle of his cloak or felt the air move as he reached to touch her flaming skirt. Her eyes glanced through him, but she shook her head and her visage roiled violent flames. He felt like breathing a relieved sigh that she hadn’t detected his presence, yet he held it in. Starfire held her hand to her cheek and closed her eyes. The flames licked at her and swirled. A tornado of fire surrounded Specter and her.

  The chamber around them seemed to melt like wax. The flames filled the space around them until he floated in a universe of fire. Starfire opened her eyes, and he was startled by the fierce wildness he saw there. Her lips parted and a flame rolled off her tongue. The flame carved a black hole in the wall of fire around them, and the hole expanded until, through it, he saw the ancient forest tree and the ruins wherein lay the portal to the Hidden Realm.

  Into that vision a figure stepped from the fire. A man as brilliant as Yimshi and robed in white stood between Starfire and the ancient ruins. Starfire dropped to one knee and lowered her gaze as the man strode toward her. Specter felt awe overcome him, and he almost bowed beside her. Then he remembered what the other angels had told him, and in his heart he knew that mankind should not pay homage to any angel—only to God himself. The angel’s face dimmed, and he smiled down at Starfire, apparently unaware of Specter standing beside her. He should have seen through Specter’s disguise. Yet he focused his gaze on the dragon’s daughter.

  “Child of the mighty prophet, why do you seek passage to this place? Did God tell you to go here?” He glanced at the portal she had formed, questioning the destination, but perhaps not the journey.

  Starfire glanced up at the angel. “I go to secure the power of Living Fire and find the witch who desires its secret.”

  The angel shook his head. His brilliant countenance hurt Specter’s eyes. He stepped within feet of the drag
on’s daughter and said, “I am Moroni, and I say to you that your true mission lies elsewhere. Turn from this quest and follow me. I will show thee what the Lord would have you do.”

  Starfire stood with a gentle shake of her head. “Though you are an angel, I cannot be swayed from this path. The prophet has set me on this quest. Into the Hidden Realm I will go—because I must.”

  “Because you must.” The angel frowned. “Look into your heart, Dantress. God knows it better than you yourself. Ask yourself, what is your greatest motivation to pass through the portal? You believe you go to serve God’s will and save humanity. You deceive yourself. What other reason drives you more than the love of a man and the hope of seeing him soon? If you go to the Hidden Realm now, at this moment, an innocent life will be lost—a life that I am willing to show thee how to save.”

  Moroni reached into the flames surrounding them. His fingers twirled them until a spot of darkness appeared. The darkness grew, expanding like a window. Through it a forest appeared. Lush green trees spaced wide apart. Heavy rain poured from the lightning-cracked sky.

  “Ah, look closely,” the angel said. He pointed a finger at the forest’s midst, and the image magnified the base of a broad tree. Rivulets of water ran along the grassy ground. Beneath the tree lay a dark-haired woman with a bleeding leg. The fringe of her skirt had gotten torn, and beside her stood a young boy grasping a knife in his tiny hand. Tears flowed from the boy’s eyes. Beside the mother lay a mountain lion, apparently dead. “Without your help—” Moroni lowered his arm and gazed upon Starfire.

  A flame rolled off the dragon daughter’s tongue and burrowed into the new portal. The wall of fire swept away the portal to the clearing with the ancient tree and the gateway to the Hidden Realm. The flames roared around the image of the little boy and his mother. Specter looked upon the wounded mother and the little boy. Without a doubt he would have done the same. The innocent must be saved before they entered the Hidden Realm.