The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga

by Josh VanBrakle

  Iren hauled himself back to his feet. “Fine, so let’s deal with the Quodivar and come back for her afterward.”

  “We don’t have time! Every second she stays outside Ziorsecth, she gets closer and closer to death. You need to take her immediately!”

  Rondel still couldn’t bring herself to look Iren in the face, but his unwavering posture showed his answer. The old Maantec fumed, her fists shaking. She needed a different tactic. With a great will, she softened her face and said, trying her best to sound genuinely pleading, “Please, Iren, do this for me. I told you of your past, of the Maantecs. I told you about the Muryozaki, Divinion, and the Dragon Knights. Please, save this woman for me. Only you can. Take one of these horses and ride hard. They’re quality animals, and all of them are well-provisioned for a lengthy trip. Any one of them can get you across Lodia in a week. If you go due west, you’ll hit Ziorsecth Forest, guaranteed. I’ll open the fort’s gate for you; it should be nearby.”

  Iren didn’t reply initially. His body shifted slowly, turning from Rondel to the Kodama and back again. Just when Rondel felt he would refuse her, he said, “I wanted revenge with my own hands. I hope you know what I’m giving up here. I won’t get another chance to avenge my parents.”

  Rondel couldn’t help herself. She laughed and replied, “Karma isn’t always so simple. Now move!”

  Iren cut the cords lashing the Kodama to the stable wall. As he hefted her onto his shoulders, her scent, the fresh aroma of autumn leaves, wafted over Rondel. A deep, longing nostalgia struck her, but she pushed it back with a great effort.

  Approaching the finest charger of the bunch, a sleek black stallion, Iren whispered in the horse’s ear the words Rondel had used in Haldessa, “Kuylet, trempiot.” The majestic stallion nodded his head once in response to Iren’s words, then allowed Iren to climb into the saddle with the Kodama seated in front of him. Despite herself, Rondel grinned slyly. The boy definitely needed to work on his listening skills, but on the rare occasions when he actually paid attention, he learned fast.

  Just as they reached the stable door, however, the structure burst into flames. They had no warning; the whole building spontaneously combusted all at once. The horses reared and panicked in their stalls, and Iren’s mighty warhorse shot through the open door, heedless of his rider’s attempted commands.

  As soon as Iren disappeared, Rondel’s will hardened. Now came the critical moment. Clutching her dagger, she exited the collapsing building as calmly as though leaving her home in the morning. Her eyes sparked, and in the burning light she saw that the fires engulfed not only the stable but the entire fort. She couldn’t locate Iren, but already large holes had appeared where portions of the stockade had burned. Maybe he had already escaped.

  Or maybe he was already dead.

  She had little time to dwell on it as the opponent she’d known was waiting for her stepped from the shadows. She cursed as she took him in. He looked just like the Yokai she’d faced earlier, but he stood well over three times their size. The Oni arched its back and issued a roar of challenge that echoed even over the howling flames. He wore no armor, and his only weapon was a short, fat, rectangular sword that glowed red, like it had freshly emerged from a forge.

  Rondel steeled herself. Oni on their own made for dangerous opponents, but the cave had changed her mind about this monster. Lodia wasn’t volcanic. No natural force carved those obsidian tubes or triggered the detonation that caused the cave-in. The fort’s sudden combustion only provided more proof. Yokai possessed magic, but not at this level. Their casters traditionally focused on enchantments, carving spells into a weapon that could enhance its destructive power without requiring much magic to wield.

  She shuddered, trying to remain calm and knowing she was failing. A thousand years had passed since she’d last seen it. Even then, in her prime, its strength had terrified her. The war should have destroyed it. The war did destroy it, or so she’d always believed. Yet here it was, right in front of her, in the hands of an Oni: the Fire Dragon Sword, Karyozaki.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Vengeance

  ���Whoa! Stop! Halt! Enough already!”

  The panicked stallion couldn’t care less about Iren’s shouts as it raced through the forest. Only a few minutes had passed since fleeing the burning stable, and already numerous low-hanging spruce limbs had sliced up both Iren’s and the Kodama’s bodies. The horse broke the bigger ones, but the smaller, springier branches had an annoying habit of bending as the horse hit them and then whipping back at high speed.

  Through the impacts, Iren struggled to keep hold of both the reins and the Kodama. He should have strapped her in, but it was far too late for that. Instead, he held the reins with one hand and kept her body pressed against his with the other. This close, her scent overwhelmed him. He didn’t know what the smell compared to, yet it invigorated him and pressed him to continue.

  “Ow!” he couldn’t help but cry as a particularly nasty limb left a brutal welt on his arm. Even though it wasn’t really the animal’s fault, he still yelled, “Hey, watch it!”

  His protestation went unheeded. The horse ran on and on, though Iren had the distinct impression the creature was running in circles. Despite the beast’s impressive speed, the burning fort didn’t look any further away.

  “Kuylet, trempiot!” he roared in desperation.

  The horse stopped so suddenly Iren was thrown forward, rolling over the Kodama’s unconscious form. He fell hard on his face. Spitting out a mix of muddy slush and spruce needles, he heaved himself to his feet and glared at the stallion. “Perhaps a little gentler next time?” he asked.

  The animal whickered and tossed his head noncommittally, his attention elsewhere. Iren crossed his arms, but the charger acted as though the boy didn’t exist.

  “Don’t be so upset,” a bass voice with a drawling accent said. Iren spun around to face it, and then he took an involuntary step backward. From the shadows of the forest emerged a giant man, over seven feet tall and so muscular he could probably snap an Oni’s neck between his fingers. The fires from the fort lit up his countenance, revealing that he had dark brown skin and jet black hair, the look of a Tacumsah islander. Plate armor covered his chest and legs, and chain mail protected his arms and head. On the man’s back hung a massive blade as long as the man was tall and over a foot wide at its base. It had to weigh an absurd amount. If all that armor and weaponry burdened the giant in the least, however, he didn’t show it.

  The islander smirked. “Nightraid never listens to anyone save the leader of the Quodivar.”

  Iren’s eyes flicked to the horse. The stallion’s focus had clearly shifted to the man. Both of his ears pointed directly at the giant, and it didn’t react in the slightest to the sounds or sights of the fort burning in the distance.

  Gulping, Iren returned his gaze to the armored man. “That means you’re Zuberi.” He spat the name, trying to keep his voice from quivering. It didn’t help that he had to crane his neck upward to look at the Tacumsahen’s face.

  Zuberi nodded. “And you are Iren Saitosan, a Left.”

  Iren stopped dead. How could the Quodivar leader know his name?

  An explosion from within the fort distracted them both. The dark-skinned man bellowed in a deep laugh, the forest quaking from the force of it. “Looks like Hezna is enjoying himself. He has all the fun.” Zuberi paused a moment, then stretched out his right hand, offering it to Iren. “Well, shall we go?”

  Iren feared for Rondel, but amid the flames he could see no sign of her. He put his left hand to the Muryozaki’s hilt. “I won’t go anywhere with you.”

  Zuberi maintained his arrogant sneer. “No doubt Rondel told you all about Maantecs. You know what Lodia has done to them.”

  The young man blinked twice. Something was very wrong here. He hadn’t expected the Quodivar leader to know about him, much less the old hag and Maantecs.

  “We can remake Lodia into a place of tolerance, where Maantecs ne
ed not live in fear,” Zuberi continued, ignoring Iren’s bewilderment. “Join me in overthrowing this miserable country. Maantec battle prowess is legendary. If you fight by my side, together with the Yokai, what enemy could stand against us?”

  White rage welled in Iren. “Fight by your side?” he shouted. “How many Lodians lay dead because of you and your Quodivar?”

  Zuberi brushed off Iren’s question. “Their deaths are necessary. Besides, you have no reason to defend Lodia. Its people consider you a child of the devil! We of the Quodivar will not scorn you. Quite the contrary, we will celebrate and reward you for your abilities.”

  Acid filled Iren’s reply, “I’ve heard enough.” He didn’t care how Zuberi knew about him, Rondel, or Maantecs. Only one thing mattered. The man he’d risked his life to meet, the reason he’d abandoned Haldessa Castle and left behind everything he’d ever known, stood before him.

  The Muryozaki sang as Iren drew it from its sheath. “The first one is for Veliaf,” he growled. “The last one is for my parents.”

  The giant seemed genuinely disappointed. “I feared you would answer that way. No matter, I’ll take over this country regardless.” Reaching behind him, he unclasped the gigantic sword and held it easily before him in one hand. Then he charged. Iren anticipated Zuberi’s heavy armor and weapon slowing him, but that guess proved wrong. The Maantec barely had time to dodge as the first blow struck down, landing inches from Nightraid. The thick blade sent chunks of earth skyward, leaving a crater in the ground. The impact’s force pushed the air away from it so that although Iren evaded the blade, the wind current caught him and tossed him into a tree trunk.

  Zuberi raised his behemoth blade and grinned, utterly unfazed as he initiated a relentless assault. The Quodivar leader wielded his ridiculously heavy sword as though it were as dainty as Rondel’s dagger. With each insane swing, he pushed Iren farther and farther back.

  Even Akaku’s mighty spruces didn’t impede Zuberi. His slashes cut through their trunks in a single pass. Soon Iren not only had to dodge the blade, but the old growth timbers crashing to the ground all around him.

  The young Maantec grimaced. Unlike the Yokai, Zuberi neither slowed nor tired. Adding to the problem, the Quodivar leader battled fully rested, while Iren had fought twice already this morning. His natural Maantec abilities did little to compensate.

  His size disadvantage didn’t help much either. With Zuberi’s long arms and even longer sword, he could strike at Iren with impunity. More than once Iren tried getting in close, where the massive blade’s size would work against his foe. That strategy failed, however, because Zuberi could swing so fast that Iren never had time between blows to maneuver for a counterattack.

  As the fight went from bad to worse, Iren tripped over a fallen tree and fell on his back. Before he could stand again, the Quodivar leader’s sword filled his vision. To Iren’s surprise, instead of delivering the lethal blow, Zuberi said, “I offered you power. I offered you acceptance. No one has ever lasted this long against me. Why turn me down? Why die meaninglessly here?”

  Even in defeat, Iren remained defiant. “Join you? You killed my parents!”

  Zuberi let out his bellowing laugh again. “Afraid you’ll have to be a little more specific. I’ve killed a lot of people’s parents.”

  Iren gritted his teeth, trying to figure out how he could escape. He gripped the Muryozaki, intending to knock Zuberi’s weapon aside. The Quodivar leader must have deciphered his plan, though, because with a swift kick, Zuberi knocked the katana out of Iren’s hand.

  The young Maantec panted frantically. He had no weapon, and without the Muryozaki, he couldn’t access Divinion’s magic. Not that healing would do much good against a direct hit from Zuberi. Stalling for time, he shouted, “Seventeen years ago, in Tropos Village, you slew my parents in the night! They were just simple farmers, yet you murdered them! What had they ever done to you? You claim you want acceptance for Maantecs, but you don’t mean it. You killed them in cold blood!”

  For the first time, Zuberi hesitated. Wrinkling his brow, he answered, “Well, if that’s your reason, it’s a poor one. Seventeen years ago in Tropos Village? At that time, I was no older than you are now. I was a brand new Tacumsahen pirate, as green as they get, setting sail to glory. I never even stepped foot on Lodian soil until ten years ago.”

  “You’re lying!”

  The giant shrugged. “Believe what you want. You won’t live long enough to decide anyway.” He raised his sword, but the death blow never came. A blue spark suddenly jumped across the blade, arcing up its length and striking Zuberi in the chest. The impact threw the Quodivar leader back thirty feet, rolling in the dirt.

  Iren stumbled to his feet and glanced to his right. Rondel stood among the trees, her hair and outfit smoldering.

  She didn’t look at all like the Rondel he remembered. After the fights in the cave, she hadn’t lost her breath or appeared tired in the slightest. Now she gasped for air, and her right hand braced against a nearby spruce for support. Even her Lightning Sight had faded.

  “I told you to get moving, slacker,” she wheezed. “What on Raa are you still doing here?”

  Iren scowled and opened his mouth for a sarcastic comeback, but he didn’t have time. Behind Rondel, a burst of flame erupted within the forest. From the center of the inferno, the Oni, Hezna as Iren recalled Zuberi calling him, emerged. The monster’s yellow eyes and red hair danced in the foul light. His sword glowed like a poker.

  Beside Hezna, Zuberi rose, using his sword to balance himself. The pair squared off against Rondel, who positioned herself between her foes and Iren.

  “Hurry!” she called, not bothering to turn around. She held her tiny dagger aloft. It looked pathetic compared with Hezna’s and Zuberi’s weapons. “Get out of here!”

  Iren’s breathing halted as he realized what she was doing. In her condition, she couldn’t defeat both enemies. He couldn’t let her fight alone! He took a few steps toward the Muryozaki. Dizziness took him, and he dropped to his knees.

  Rondel glanced over her shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”

  The momentary distraction was enough. Zuberi and Hezna charged her. Rondel leapt aside, but just barely. She moved remarkably slower than when she’d fought the Quodivar in Veliaf. More unsettling, though, was how nothing of her former confident, smirking attitude remained. Instead, she looked haggard and worn.

  The battle ended in an instant. A sideswipe from Zuberi’s blade forced her to jump away, and as she landed, the Oni reached her. He struck her in the face with his elbow, and she collapsed. As she fell, her dagger dropped from her grip and rolled down a small incline, stopping at the Oni’s feet. He picked it up, all but invisible in his clawed fist. Laughing cruelly, Zuberi walked over and gave her limp form a swift kick, sending her flying through the air and landing just a few yards from where Iren still knelt.

  Iren stared in shock at Rondel’s motionless body. He crawled to her, feeling for any sign of a pulse. He found none. Her eyes stared emptily into the canopy, unblinking.

  No. No. No. The word repeated itself endlessly in his head. Soon he started saying it aloud, faster and faster, a constant chant of anguish and disbelief. Tears fell freely from his face. He’d never cried for another person in his whole life. Now he couldn’t stop.

  A pair of shadows enveloped him. Looking up, he saw Zuberi and Hezna silhouetted by the fire behind them. They looked at him with unrepentant glee, and then as one, their swords crashed down to end his life just as they had the old hag’s.

  A foot from his face, however, their weapons stopped short as a blinding light surrounded Iren. Barely conscious of what he was doing, Iren got to his feet, fists clenched, all hint of tiredness gone. His eyes burned bright white. With fear in their faces, the pair of murderers stumbled backwards.

  Iren cocked his left arm as though about to punch, his hand glowing just like his eyes. As he threw his fist forward, a shining beam of white light lanced out of it. Th
e attack struck Hezna a glancing blow, knocking the Oni sideways and into a tree. Zuberi wasn’t as fortunate. The beam hit him at full force, and as it did, it took the form of a great reptilian mouth. It clamped down on Zuberi’s body, crushing his armor, lifting him off the ground, and sending him rocketing through the forest, snapping tree trunks as easily as dried twigs. When the beam at last dissipated, the Quodivar leader crumpled to the ground and did not rise again.

  Iren placed his hands on his knees, chest heaving. He had no idea what had just happened. Still, he knew one thing clearly. He’d gotten his revenge.

  He had little time to celebrate as he fell forward next to Rondel, utterly spent. All feeling left his body. In a distant corner of his mind, he wondered about the beam. He didn’t have the Muryozaki, and Rondel had said the sword connected him to Divinion. It was impossible to unleash the dragon’s magic without holding the katana, yet he’d just done exactly that.

  He would have to remember to ask her about it, when he saw her shortly in the next life.

  As the seconds passed, though, he remained in the living world. A pressure rubbed against his face, and through the firelight he saw Nightraid’s muzzle. He managed a faint smile. “What, now you feel like listening?” The horse whinnied softly and nuzzled him harder. By a great force of will, Iren clasped a stirrup with his right hand.

  “West,” he murmured, but that single word sapped his last reserves. He closed his eyes and remembered no more.

  * * *