by P D Ceanneir
Velnour and Verkin had found shields also and started throwing spears too. Nevertheless, they had no effect on the hard hide of the beast. Whyteman, and Sir Colby, both with borrowed swords, were intent on staying next to the women to protect them and urging them out of the ballroom. Dolment was throwing chunks of broken stonework at the thing, but all he was doing was annoying it more.
The king intervened and used the wind element to pick up the creatures fallen weapon and bring it to his hand at which the Drakken roared in anger and charged. King Vanduke and Lord Ness stood their ground and hit the thing with Fireballs that sent it reeling backwards and mewing in pain.
‘Rawn Fire hurts it,’ informed the king with glee.
They stopped; the Drakken had crouched as it was being pummelled by flame. Its scaly skin burned and blistered, sending up the smell of charred leather. However, as they watched, it healed rapidly. It stood newly mended and roared again.
‘Bugger!’ cursed the king.
‘I don’t remember them being as strong as this before,’ said the Ri.
They attacked it again with flame and it screeched with the pain. It suddenly rushed forward into the onslaught and slammed its fists into the floor sending a violent tremor through the oak board and split the planks so they buckled. The floor exploded so high, that it lifted the King and Lord Ness off their feet and hurtling onto their back at the other side of the room.
Flames had bounced off the monsters body during the Rawns attack and set fire to the hanging drapes and tapestries. The wooden arches caught fire also, and the flames licked upwards to the domed glass roof. If the civilians did not get out soon, then they would all be trapped inside the ballroom with a terrifying monster and a blazing inferno to deal with.
Halfway down the stairs, the Blacksword saw the corridor clogged with panicking guests. The way was blocked. So he looked for an alternative. He went back to the top of the stairs again and found Bleudwed there watching him.
‘You must stay safe,’ he said as he rushed by her, ‘that is what he wants.’ He ran off down to the other side of the corridor.
‘Where are you going, it’s that way?’ she implored.
‘There are other ways to make an exit.’
He stopped at the tall stain glass windows that faced west on one wall with a view of Carras Isle and north overlooking the ballrooms glass dome roof. Under the ballroom dome, he could see bright orange flames.
‘This will do nicely,’ he said.
The king and Lord Ness were not finished; they helped each other up from the ground and resumed the attack on the Drakken. Verkin, Velnour, Dolment, Sir Colby, and Whyteman helped in whatever way they could, but the opportunity to attack was lost to them because of the hot flames that spun around the monster as it burnt, and it burnt badly. However, it also healed instantly; its energy was boundless.
Then the Drakken decided to end the attack and breathed in. Sucking a huge lungful of hot air in one great gulp. The whooshing sound it made was like wind squeezing through a narrow mountain pass.
Lord Ness knew what it was going to do and rushed forward with hands raised to protect the others.
‘EVERYONE GET DOWN!’ he shouted.
Then the thing breathed out.
The orange black flame that emitted from its mouth consumed the Ri as he stepped into its path. Lord Ness used up his depleted energies to disperse the huge Fireball as it crackled and spat around him. The others did as the Ri ordered and ducked, allowing the flame to pass overhead, all except Verkin, still holding an unconscious Velnour, who watched the fire as if hypnotised. The wounded Brynd came out of nowhere and knocked both Verkin and Velnour to the ground but a large portion of the Fireballs shockwave hit Brynd full on as they fell. He was sent high in the air and crashing amongst the rubble of the vestibule stairwell.
Wyrmfire, as dragon flame is known, is a combination of flammable chemicals’ that spreads as a hot sticky gloop. Difficult to extinguish and can burn anything, stories of the past tell of it being seen burning on the surface of oceans as ships came under attack by the dragons of old. Though the Drakken Wyrmfire was of a weaker type used by the great dragons, it was still powerful enough to kill everyone in the ballroom. The heat and flame dissipated around the Ri as he used the Arts to nullify the destructive energy. He collapsed to the ground with smoke leaching from his shoulders. He felt weak, he had used up the last of his energies to disperse the heat from the blast of flame and in doing so had succeeded in keeping the others alive for now, but he had only bought them some time. The Drakken grinned at the white robed figure on the ground and breathed in another lungful of air.
Just then, part of the glass dome above them shattered, and something dark descended to the floor.
Chapter 25
There will be Deaths
Shards of glass rained down onto the ruin that was once the Great Ballroom of Aln-Tiss Palace. A falling black figure was, for an instant, silhouetted against the burning tapestries and arches that belched out thick smoke towards the now open domed ceiling. The Drakken instinctively raised its arms to protect itself from the larger pieces of falling panes; the instinctive act of defending itself was pointless, no matter how sharp the glass was it would not be able to penetrate its tough scaly skin.
The Blacksword landed lightly just in front of the Dragonstalker. He spun round on his left heel and kicked the eight-foot beast square in the chest with his right foot. The violent force of the strike crushed the Drakken’s solar plexus against its lungs and lifted the beast through the air, hurtling it backwards at extreme speed. One of the supporting pillars at the north end of the ballroom did a poor job of slowing the creatures velocity as its back slammed into it, shattering the pillar into thousands of marble blocks, it landed among the debris at the rear of the room. The arched oak roof beams, weakened by the fire, fell on top of the behemoth, covering it in brick and burning wood.
The Blacksword stood still and surveyed the devastation. Bodies lay among the debris, some of them were Havoc’s officers, but he sensed they were alive. As he looked around he found out he was not alone.
The shock and trauma of the malicious attack by a fire breathing giant monster seemed dulled by the timely arrival of the prophesised Blacksword. Everyone that remained in the room stared in disbelief at the extremely tall black cloaked figure that stood before them. The Blacksword’s head turned as he recognised the familiar face of Bellthua as one of the slave prisoners from Cosshead. She was helping a pale Mad-gellan up from the floor. Blood soaked one side of his jacket and a piece of wood protruded from his shoulder; however, both of them looked at him in wonder. He inclined his head slightly as he looked at them through the darkness of his cowl. Then he noticed a beautiful girl with blond hair and a yellow dress. For some odd reason she seemed familiar to him. He reached out a hand to her, but then thought better of it as if listening to someone telling him not to. A sound behind him made him turn. Prince Magnus walked across the rubble strewn floor, slightly unsteady on his feet. He had a half-closed eye and a bloody nose, but he never took his gaze from the Blacksword as he stood in front of Eleana to protect her and silently backed her away from the menacing cloaked arrival.
The remaining men and women watched the Blacksword with a mixture of awe and apprehension. They seemed to be rooted to the spot. Whyteman and Dolment held their sword in front of them with both hands, getting ready to fight. Sir Colby just watched open mouthed. The king did not take his eyes off the Blacksword as he helped Lord Ness off the floor. It was General Elkin, suffering concussion from a knock to the back of the head, who broke the tense silence.
‘Thank the gods you’re here!’ he said.
‘Yes, but how did he get here?’ asked the king, ‘this is the Blacksword we are looking at, is not it?’
The Blacksword ignored them. He stopped his panoramic sweep of the room when he caught sight of Verkin as he held a half-unconscious Velnour with one arm around his waist to keep him on his feet.
&n
bsp; ‘The Queen of the Ravens told me you would come,’ whispered Verkin to the Blacksword, ‘but you are still in danger.’
Just then, at the north end of the ballroom, the pile of burning oak beams and masonry moved. A deep growl rumbled through the floor. Flames licked around the walls bathing everyone in dancing shadows and intolerable heat.
‘Damn it! Does that thing not know how to die?’ growled the king.
The Blacksword had not turned to look. He ignored the Drakken’s journey back into consciousness. He stared intently at Verkin for a few more seconds, and then slowly looked over towards the north wall where the growl of the monster got louder. He turned back again and looked at the king.
The voice of the Blacksword was a cold whisper and it sent shivers down everyone’s spine.
‘GET... OUT!’ he said so forcibly that it was almost a shout.
The king did not need to hear the command twice, he ordered everyone to leave, quickly. They used the main entrance and the west vestibule. Dolment picked up the unconscious Lord Rett on the king’s orders, and the other Raider officers either lifted or dragged their friends out of the burning ballroom. They avoided getting too close to the Blacksword as he walked slowly towards the sounds of the Drakken, which was pushing itself out of the burning debris that had fallen on it. The Blacksword found the monster axe-staff and deftly slipped his toe under the shaft and flicked it up to his hand with his foot.
‘Blacksword!’ shouted Lord Ness leaning against the king. The Blacksword turned to him; ‘the Drakken can be burnt by Rawn Fire, but not effectively. Pyromantic fire is your only hope.’ Vanduke flinched at his Consuls words. He looked from the Ri then to the Blacksword then back again. Lord Ness did not give him the opportunity to question his statement he turned and staggered out of the ballroom.
The Drakken screeched with rage and lifted the last of the heavy beams that covered him and threw them to one side with a horrendous crash. Its scarred and burnt body healed in front of the Blacksword’s eyes and it walked out of the remains of its possible tomb. The regeneration capabilities of the monster astounded him. Not even a powerful Rawn Master or a Ri could heal that fast.
The Blacksword nonchalantly threw the axe-staff towards the creature; it caught it and swung it around his body before adopting a defensive pose.
‘Are you my enemy?’ the Blacksword hissed.
His only answer was the Drakken inhaling a mass of smoky air and expelling a flame that headed towards its opponent. The Blacksword stood his ground and crossed his arms in front of his face, allowing the fire to surround him. He then flung his arms to the sides and the Fireball disappeared into glowing embers.
‘I take it the answer is, yes,’ he said and took some satisfaction in seeing the beasts face fill with surprise.
Verkin watched as he helped to drag Brynd and an unconscious Powyss away from the fire that had spread around the south walls. He saw the creature run forward and attack with malevolent rage; saw the Blacksword move with surprisingly sharp, precise, and quick movements that made him look like a blur. The Drakken’s skill with his weapon was also quick for a clumsy looking brute he swung the staff tightly around his body, defending his front and back simultaneously as the Blacksword danced around him.
However, the Blacksword found openings in the fiends counter-attack and defence. Therefore, he used them accordingly, slipping through when he saw an opportunity and slicing long gashes in the monsters back and legs. The thing roared in pain. Its tough hide was no match for a sword that could cut through anything and soon gouts of his black sticky blood splashed on the floor and steamed where it landed to form stinking puddles that bubbled and seeped, scarring the marble flooring.
Nevertheless, the instantaneous healing ability of the Drakken continued to shock the Blacksword; the thing was unstoppable. He tried a different tactic and stepped back from the creature’s weapon, letting the half moon axe blade slash past his ear and allowing the Drakken to overreach his lunge. He brought SinDex down on the arm cleaving it from the monsters body at the shoulder.
Not all of the prince’s friends had left the burning room, some had stayed to watch the fight and the Blacksword heard Magnus give a loud ‘Yes!’ as he hacked off the limb.
The Drakken blinked down at his twitching arm, which still held the axe-staff firmly in its claw.
‘Pick up the weapon,’ said the Blacksword stepping back, ‘let’s see how well you fight with one arm.’
The fire around them cast orange glints on the green scales of the Drakken as he reached down and picked up his arm. He held it by the shoulder and moved it up to the stump that SinDex had cut so neatly. For one brief moment, the Blacksword thought that the inane fiend was too stupid to realise that his arm was gone and it could not fit back on.
He was wrong.
Filaments of veins and arteries’, tissue and tendons, moved of their own accord on the shoulder stump and on the limb, they whipped about like writhing snakes searching around for the correct body part to latch onto. When they did, they merged and blood flowed through to the rest of the arm the other areas of flesh fused together and there was a sickening crunch as the bones fused and slotting into their proper places. All that remained was for the scaly skin to knit together around the wound. The whole process did not even leave a scar.
‘Oh shit!’ said the Blacksword.
The beast moved quickly, it swung its newly mended arm upwards and slammed its fist into the Blacksword chest sending him careering into the north end of the ballroom where most of the burning debris lay. The rubble and flame wreathed wood exploded when the body of the Blacksword’s smashed into it. Loose masonry broke from the archway and rained down on him.
The Drakken grunted with satisfaction, then fished into his belt pocket and pulled out his Lobe Stone which looked small in his claws. It was flashing faster than the usual steady pulse it normally emitted. The creature looked around, his big head turning on his thick muscled neck, the sinews rippled under the scales. Then the orb stopped flashing and produced a steady white light. The Drakken looked up through the smashed panes of the glass dome roof straight into the eyes of Bleudwed who had been watching the fight from above as she stood in the third floor corridor window.
Verkin took that moment to attack.
His friends called him back as he ran towards the beast and delivered a hard whack to the side of the things head with the sharp end of his sword, which broke in two on impact. The monster roared, because half of his ear was gone.
The Drakken whirled round with his axe-staff and Verkin moved back from the swing, but the creature hooked one end of his weapon onto Verkin’s back and he used it to throw him over to the other side of the room where he landed like a broken doll. A wet patch of blood bloomed through his jacket where the axe blade had cut into his shoulder.
The Drakken looked up again, through the glass roof and into the smashed stainless window that the Blacksword had jumped through to get to the dome. Bleudwed was rooted to the spot, her heart pounding. She caught the grin of the beast through the black smoke that issued through the hole in the roof. The orb in its hand was a bright white now and so was the one in her hand.
‘It’s not just a communicator,’ she said as the horror of the answer dawned on her, ‘it’s a locator.’
Then the Dragonstalker, still gripping the Lobe Stone, jumped through the ballroom roof. It was a gargantuan leap; his powerful legs gave him the needed lift for him to sail through the smashed dome.
At the same time, the wreckage covering the Blacksword disintegrated around him with a wave of his arms. The flames separated and he forced them away from him to give him a view of his opponent and he glimpsed the Drakken looking up through the roof. He only just noticed Mulvend behind the smoke screen when the monster jumped.
The Blacksword quickly sheathed the Sword that Rules and summoned the wind element to give him the lift he needed, and he shot into the air after his foe. The young countess stepped back from the edge
of the broken window as the fiend rose upwards; its eyes never left hers as it came straight towards her. She screamed.
The Drakken with his large clawed hands held outwards and aiming for her neck was just about to reach the low windowsill when the Blacksword collided with his midriff sending the monster into a different direction. The Blacksword’s momentum sent both of them crashing through the brick wall of the adjacent corridor, several feet from the countess, and then into one of the palaces guest rooms.
