Looking at it standing firm against Feng, Iren believed it.
The Heart of Ziorsecth swung one mighty limb and smashed Feng in the head. For the first time, Iren saw the dragon stumble. Flames licked at the Heart’s branches, but their thick bark refused to burn.
“Aim for the sword!” Iren choked out. “That’s his power source!”
Aletas nodded her affirmation, and the Heart focused all its effort on Feng’s chest. It bashed and battered, and finally the dragon fell. The tree swung its largest branch straight down on the Karyozaki, but at the last moment, Feng twisted away. The monster screamed his aggravation. Apparently, he hadn’t expected a plant to outclass him. He closed his wings around himself and tucked his head in, seemingly trying to protect his sole vulnerable spot.
All at once, Feng erupted in a giant mushroom cloud. The explosion knocked Aletas, standing over a mile from its epicenter, to the ground. The Heart of Ziorsecth evaporated.
Iren had a recollection of Minawë’s room. Aletas had spoken of her vision about a firebird and the Heart of Ziorsecth engulfed in flames. It had come to pass.
Before Aletas could rise again, the dragon lunged forward and seized her, lifting her high into the air and beyond the forest. Removed from her source of power and overcome by the exhaustion of using so much magic, Saito’s curse afflicted her in seconds. Through Feng’s grim red light, Iren saw the queen’s hair turn from green to shining white. When the last hair changed, Feng casually tossed her limp body back beside Iren. She fell to the ground without the slightest resistance, her face so withered she made Rondel look youthful. Emptiness and terror filled Aletas’s unblinking eyes. Iren had no doubt.
The queen was dead.
Feng had defeated them. The Kodamas’ bows no longer fired, and first Iren, then Rondel, and even Aletas, with all the might of Ziorsecth behind her, had fallen.
He wanted revenge. He wanted to make Feng suffer. Try as he might, though, Iren couldn’t make his body move. His vision faltered, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
From somewhere in the shadows, he heard a voice call, “Slacker!” He groaned. Rondel had decided to haunt him from beyond the grave. Wonderful.
“If you want to defeat him,” she cried, her words echoing from the past, “then put forth some real effort! You can’t win if you constantly hold yourself back and give up when you find a problem difficult!”
“What do you expect me to do, you brainless old hag?” Iren cried inside his mind. “I can’t move!”
“Remember!” Divinion’s voice, gentle yet with a force to shake all of Raa, boomed from the darkness. “Commit to what’s most important. You did it for Minawë when you brought her to Ziorsecth. You can do it here, too.”
Iren’s anger swelled. “But what’s most important? What good would knowing that even do? I’m about to die, and so are my friends. I can’t do anything—”
He stopped. His friends? Throughout his eighteen-year life, he’d never befriended anyone. He’d lived alone in the Tower of Divinion. People had called him a monster, a Left, and he’d taken out his frustration and sorrow on them until he became the very devil the bigoted Lodians claimed he was.
Divinion, though, had looked at Iren and not seen a monster. He’d seen the lonely boy Iren himself refused to recognize. He’d rescued Iren from the depths of his self-made prison, and thanks to Divinion’s help, Iren had found friends. Flashes of faces came to him. Dirio. Balear. Aletas. Rondel.
Minawë.
“What’s most important?” he’d asked the Holy Dragon.
Now he knew.
His eyes snapped open, and with a surge of effort, he reached out his hand and clasped the Muryozaki. Its healing power washed over him, and he stood and marched onto the plain.
Feng beheld his final enemy and chuckled. “Not dead yet, Iren Saitosan? I’m impressed you can still move. You’ve come for revenge, no doubt.”
Iren met the abomination’s gaze without a trace of fear. “No,” he replied calmly. Though he did not speak loudly, his voice carried across the landscape so that all heard it. The forest itself shook under the weight of his words as he said, “I don’t care if Amroth used me, or if he killed my parents. I don’t care about revenge. Right now, I only care that I have friends depending on me. I swear that I’ll protect them!”
All at once, blinding light erupted from him in a great tempest, engulfing him. It condensed around his body, solidifying into a gleaming full suit of armor, white with blue streaks and made of the same material as the Muryozaki. The brightness then focused on his back, and as Iren yelled defiantly, two radiant wings of light sprouted from either side of his spine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The Wings of Dragons
Rondel tried to stand, but even breathing hurt. She supposed she should feel grateful she could breathe at all. Her three cracked ribs and shattered right arm and leg, however, made it hard to see the bright side of her situation.
She sat with her back against a tree, panting as she frantically tried not to black out. She’d put everything short of her biological magic into that lightning bolt, leaving her helpless against a retaliatory strike. Had she possessed any sense at all, she would have let Feng kill her. Instead, survival had intervened. Instinctively, she’d drawn a miniscule amount more of Okthora’s magic, just enough to grant her a little extra speed.
Using that magic, though, had been more damaging than anything Feng could throw at her. Already she could feel Okthora’s will brushing against her own. If she lapsed, even for a second, he would rip control from her.
��Come now, Rondel,” a tantalizing male voice whispered inside her mind. “Would I really do something like that to you?”
She spat blood. “Yes, you absolutely would, Okthora.”
The dragon’s smooth voice became affronted. “Really, Rondel, you should think better of me. I merely wish to talk. I so long for conversation. After all, the last time we spoke was the Battle of Serona, correct? It’s been a thousand years.”
“Another thousand would have been too soon,” she growled.
A burst of white light filled the plain, interrupting their conversation. Rondel beheld Iren shining with two brilliant wings on his back. Though initially gratified to see the boy alive, her expression quickly darkened.
“No!” she cried. “Iren, you fool!” The boy had used too much of Divinion’s magic. Even if Okthora didn’t take over her body, Raa would soon have two unstoppable monsters to deal with anyway. Their inevitable duel could level the continent.
Inside her mind, Okthora chuckled. “It isn’t quite that bad, you know.”
“What are you talking about? Iren’s turning into a dragon!”
“Actually, the opposite is happening,” the Storm Dragon replied. “Iren isn’t turning into Divinion. Divinion is turning into Iren.”
Rondel scoffed. “Impossible.”
“You know that using my magic requires a contest of wills between us. Draw a small amount, and you easily win. Draw more than you possess, and my will breaks yours and takes over your body. That happened to Amroth, unleashing Feng. But what would happen if you had a will so resolute, so unyielding, that I couldn’t break it, even if you drew more magic than your body could handle?”
Rondel’s breath caught. “The Dragoon . . . no, that’s just a theory. Every Dragon Knight arrogant enough to attempt that transformation failed. Besides, I never spoke of it to Iren; I didn’t want to tempt him. How could he succeed where so many others failed without knowing what he was doing?”
“That I cannot answer,” Okthora conceded. “I can say this much, though. Whatever Iren is fighting for must be very important to him.”
As Okthora spoke, Rondel gazed in wonderment at Iren. Despite the absurdly bright light emanating from him, she didn’t need to shield her eyes. Rather, a great sense of calm flowed from the glow. Iren stood there, toe to toe with Feng, and Rondel knew the young man felt no apprehension. She couldn’t believe it. “Okthor
a,” she asked, “just what is happening to Iren? What does it mean to become the Dragoon? If he isn’t transforming into a dragon, why did his body change at all?”
The Storm Dragon laughed. “No one can channel that much magic without changing. When a knight becomes the Dragoon, their mind remains in control, but they acquire wings, as well as armor forged from the dragon’s scales. The Dragoon is the Dragon Knight perfected. It has all of the dragon’s power without any loss of control.”
At these words, Rondel grew puzzled. “Why are you telling me all this? Had you kept it secret, I might have despaired to the point that you could wrest control from me.”
“I considered that,” the dragon admitted, “but you know my law. Evil must be annihilated. I dislike Kodamas and Maantecs, but I hate Feng. He is a perversion of what the dragons are supposed to be, and he must be punished. The Dragoon is our best chance of stopping him. The boy doesn’t need any distractions from me. Besides, I can already feel the Storm Amethyst tugging at my will. I probably couldn’t overcome you now if I tried. Next time, though, I won’t go so easy.”
Gradually, Okthora’s presence faded from Rondel’s mind. When she was certain he couldn’t take over her body, she turned her full attention to Iren. With the smallest of motions of his right hand, the Dragoon sent a wave of light rippling behind him into the forest. It filled the woods, briefly brightening Ziorsecth’s understory to the level of a desert at noon. It collected on Rondel, and a brief tingling sensation swept her body as her shattered bones knit themselves together.
The young man next stretched his wings to the sky and, with a glance toward the heavens, took flight, shooting into the air at such a pace Rondel could barely track him.
Rondel heaved herself to her feet. As Iren climbed ever higher, she couldn’t help taking a step forward and saying, “That’s the way, Iren. Go; fly on the wings of dragons!”
* * *
Iren didn’t have a clue what had happened to him, but that fact didn’t bother him. Every movement felt natural, no more unusual than walking or speaking. He didn’t concern himself with the knowledge that he could fly, or that he had healed, in an instant, the wounds of every living thing in Ziorsecth within ten miles of his location. All he knew was that he had to protect those important to him, and that meant stopping Feng.
For his part, Feng expressed no concern at Iren’s transformation. No doubt the dragon believed that since he’d swatted this insect once, he’d easily do so again. Without any effort, Feng sent a jet of flame at Iren, engulfing the Maantec. The dragon sneered, “Perfect shot!”
When the smoke cleared, however, Iren remained unfazed, not a scratch or burn on him. His armor absorbed the heat without difficulty, and inside Iren felt perfectly comfortable.
Focusing magic on the Muryozaki, Iren launched himself at Feng. With a single swing he slashed through the dragon’s left shoulder, his magic forming a blade that extended beyond the sword’s tip. Feng’s arm separated from his body and fell, extinguishing itself before it reached the ground.
Iren comprehended in a flash. Without its connection to the Karyozaki, the fire couldn’t survive. He readied for a second strike, but without warning the dragon regrew his lost arm. Grabbing Iren’s leg, Feng swung him in a broad arc and then hurled him through the air. He struck the plain at immense speed, leaving a crater where he landed. Even so, he got back on his feet in seconds, uninjured.
“Divinion,” he shouted, “I thought that would work! I severed his arm; how could he make a new one?”
“Arms and legs belong to the flesh,” Divinion explained. “Feng is pure flame. He only has arms and legs because he chooses to have them. As long as the fire exists, he can change its shape however he wishes. Moreover, he can move the Karyozaki to any point on his body.”
The dragon’s voice echoed inside Iren’s brain. Ever since the Dragoon transformation, as Divinion had called it, the two of them had become partner minds. Iren gritted his teeth. “So the only way to stop him is to put out the entire flame all at once?”
“So it would seem.”
“How do we do that?”
The dragon thought for a moment, then replied, “I have a plan.”
Divinion relayed his idea, but Iren shook his head. “He’ll never fall for that.”
“You survived two of his strongest attacks, and you’re the only obstacle left in his path,” Divinion pointed out. “He won’t let you escape.”
“I hope so.” Iren fired a tight beam of white light at Feng’s left leg, just like what he’d used to strike Rondel during their training in Ziorsecth. The attack cut through the limb, severing it as the beam pushed the air away. The dragon toppled precariously, but then he just created a new leg and regained his footing. Iren surrounded himself with a shield of light and took flight once more, this time heading not only up but also north, away from the battlefield.
“Coward!” Feng bellowed, but Iren didn’t change course. In response, Feng spread his wings and shot into the air, chasing Iren at full speed.
Glancing behind him, Iren yelled, “Well, we got his attention!”
Divinion’s voice stayed calm, “Keep on this route, and don’t let him fall too far behind.”
Higher and higher Iren climbed, until the trees of Ziorsecth looked like blades of grass. All the while flames scorched past him. The better-aimed bursts hit his shield and deflected, but each impact jarred the barrier. As Feng’s rage grew, so did his power.
After a few minutes, the flames striking the shield abruptly stopped, and Iren halted his flight. A moment later, Feng loosed a terrible cry. Iren whipped around. To his amazement, the Fire Dragon was shrinking. Already the head and upper torso had vanished. Iren smiled. Divinion’s plan had worked.
At this altitude, the Holy Dragon had explained, there was no air. While Iren’s bubble of energy contained enough for him to breathe, Feng had no such protection. Without air, the Fire Dragon’s flaming shape couldn’t burn.
As the fire shrunk, the Karyozaki responded, sinking lower in Feng’s body. At last it rested at the bottom of the infernal monster’s toe, and Iren knew it was over.
The last flames, however, did not extinguish. Inside his mind, Iren felt Divinion’s annoyance. “The toe must be just low enough that is has enough air to continue burning. Quickly, fire a beam and destroy it!”
Iren never got the chance. Its tiny flame keeping it alive, the Karyozaki abandoned its quarry and plummeted to the ground. As it fell, the fire rekindled, and from that remnant, the firebird returned.
“I’m sorry, Iren,” Divinion said.
“He won’t make the same mistake again,” Iren pointed out. “Now that he knows the limits of his flame, he’ll stop before he gets this high. He’s also likely realized that he doesn’t have to come get us, either. We’ll have to descend soon, or I’ll suffocate.”
“What do you propose, then?”
Iren had no answer for the dragon. Still, he couldn’t abandon his friends. As long as he continued living, he would never stop fighting this beast. He must come up with something. He had to win! If only he could force Feng back to this altitude! He wracked his brain but couldn’t think of a way to do it. Despite the immense magic the Dragoon form gave him, creating and sustaining a bubble large enough to trap Feng was beyond him. He felt certain he could make one, but extending his energy out that far would weaken it tremendously. Feng could easily breach it.
Seeking inspiration, he surveyed the world far below him. From this height, he could see nearly all of northern Raa. To his horror, as he beheld Lodia, he noticed dots of flames in a rough line running east to west across the landscape. Amroth’s army must have pillaged their way across the country in order to maintain their supplies. The demented king had come to Ziorsecth to incite a tragedy, but he had done that in his own lands long before reaching the forest.
At the limits of his vision, Iren spotted the eastern ocean that bordered Lodia. He fantasized that he could see the Tower of Divinion, h
is residence for so many years. He wondered if the Holy Dragon’s painting still remained after Haldessa’s destruction, and whether he would ever see it again. His whole life, he’d tried to get away from that place. Now, he had an odd feeling of nostalgia. For all its prejudices against him as a Left, Lodia still deserved protection. It deserved better than Feng.
As he floated there at the edge between air and space, the first stretches of dawn appeared far to the east over the ocean. The sun cast forth its tendrils over the darkened world. Iren marveled at the way the light spread, pushing away the darkness and replacing it with the hope of a new day.
Immediately, he knew what to do.
“Iren, you must descend,” Divinion warned. “Your air supply has nearly gone.”
He had already begun to drop. As he plummeted, he released his shield and took a deep breath, savoring the crisp autumn air. Feng sent a torrent of fire blazing at him, but Iren dodged it nimbly. He careened around the monster, flying at a dizzying speed. Undeterred, Feng shot wave after wave of flames, filling the sky with their blistering heat, crimson glow, and choking smoke. Two miles above the ground, the fires detonated all around Iren, but he didn’t retaliate. Instead, he merely spun in ever tighter circles, the Fire Dragon at their center. All the while he kept his attention focused solidly on Feng, his expression locked in concentration.
After several minutes, Iren’s speed dropped. The Dragoon armor, which previously had felt all but weightless, grew heavier with each passing second. The wings on his back flickered; even the legendary Dragoon’s magic had limits. He was almost out of time, yet he couldn’t quit, not yet.
His wings flashed once more, then vanished, sending Iren hurtling toward the plain. His armor remained intact, but he knew it had only a few moments left. Seeing Iren fall, Feng crowed in victory and sent one of his arms surging forward, snatching Iren from midair around the chest. The dragon pulled Iren to his mouth, the flames adopting a smug expression.
The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga Page 27
