by Paul Centeno
At first they stood quiet, twisted grins on their faces. They then showed their weapons to him. Each of them wielded razor-sharp scythes, ready to tear the prince in half. Aarian, however, approached without a hint of fear. And when they attacked him, attempting to slice him apart, he rapidly blocked, dodged, and parried every assault, counterattacking between their brutal strikes with ease.
After riposting, he pirouetted away from the group of dark elves and stood stock-still, a demented grin of his own forming on his lips as the Mor’vyi’dou dropped to the floor, pools of blood forming beneath their corpses.
“Pathetic,” said Aarian, walking onward.
He entered a narrow corridor where torn paintings of the Quel’de’nai rulers hung along the walls. The farther he walked, the darker it became inside. His only light came from glittery malachite embedded in the walls for decoration. Reaching a spiral staircase, he scaled it while slashing a few more enemies.
With his visor raised, the expression he wore caused them to stagger before shrieking when gutted. Though his eyes had returned to their natural blue, they were now glowing. The anger within him stirred his soul, ready to destroy this spire from inside out. When he reached the tenth floor, the stairs ended. He then walked through a wider corridor where at least a dozen dark elves stood waiting for him.
Aarian roared, hurling his shield at one of them. He’d thrown it so hard that it went right through her flesh. The dark elf croaked as she gazed at the vertical slit in her stomach, crumbling to the floor. At that moment, Aarian charged forth with both his hands holding the talon-hilted sword. Vehemently swiping at the group, he hacked off their limbs. Within seconds the path turned into a blood-soaked canvas. Blood dripped down Aarian’s armor, as well as along the frayed drapes and cracked walls.
Picking up his shield, he stormed ahead into a chamber with chandeliers and tables upon which stood dimly-lit candelabra, goblets of blood, and plates consisting of fresh meat. Whether the fingers and hands came from Quel’de’nai, dwarves, or another race, Aarian did not know. He lifted and kicked the tables to the side. Spilling everything, however, stirred the creatures in the room. Just then, screeching monsters flew down from the darkened ceiling, spreading their gaunt wings and swiping their jagged fingernails at Aarian who hastily dodged them. When he stood up, they were gone. Yet from the corner of his eye he’d noticed that they were, without a doubt, vampires.
“Here is my neck,” said Aarian, removing his breastplate. “It can’t get easier than this.”
After removing his golden armor and talisman, his eyes gleamed brighter. That instant, his blonde hair stretched down to his spine. The fiber hairs along his forearms, chest, and legs grew as well, covering every inch of his body. Then his nose and mouth jutted, morphing into a hideous snout. His teeth also became longer, growing fangs.
“Feasts upon me, immortals!” growled Aarian, hunched.
When the vampires saw that he transformed into a werewolf, they hissed and descended again to feast on him. Yet this time Aarian was as quick as them. With his right hand he grabbed a vampire’s face and crushed it. Galloping across the room, he leapt in the air and clawed one of them in midflight. Afterwards, he pounced on a female vampire and tore open her throat with his fangs. Standing on his hind legs, he ferociously fought against the remaining seventeen vampires, biting and clawing them multiple times until they lay lifeless and blood-deprived on the floor.
Aarian put his amulet on and transformed back into his humyn form. After equipping his armor, he passed the room and advanced to another flight of steps. He scaled them until getting to the top floor, which touched the clouds. Stomping forward, his armor clanking, he approached a pair of lustrous crystal doors and shattered them with a kick. As the prince suspected, he finally reached the chamber of rulers. In the room stood many thrones, one of which sat Lord Keldoran. Beneath him lay ten Quel’de’nai rulers. They were long dead, conceded Aarian, lifting his sword and shield to his chest.
“Why not two chances to surrender,” scowled Aarian. “Isn’t that what you said before?”
“Oh, it’s you,” said Saldovin. “I heard rumors that some Dralekar was raiding my city and had me quite worried. As it turns out, there is a freak humyn running rampant with savages that have made him think he is the Dralekar.” Saldovin cackled manically and added, “You’ve made quite a mess, Prince Aarian.”
“I could say the same about you,” retorted Aarian, hurling his shield at the dark elf who instantly leapt in the air and spread his wings, flying to a corner. “There’s nowhere else to run, Keldoran.”
“I don’t need to run!” yelled Saldovin, hissing.
He murmured an incantation, raising the rulers from the dead. Aarian, enraged, sheathed his sword and brought his palms together. His eyes glowed, but this time they weren’t blue. Now they were red again. Conjuring a sphere of flame, he blasted one of the rulers with it. The impact was so powerful that the undead elf was incinerated.
Saldovin grew slightly pale when he witnessed what Aarian had done. Then he squinted, a twisted smirk forming on his face. He joined the fight, attempting to bite the prince and drain all his blood. Aarian tried rolling aside but Saldovin was too quick, sinking his fangs into the prince’s neck. The dark elf expected to hear a shriek from Aarian who, instead, wore the same maniacal smirk as he.
Not one second later, Aarian’s body burst into flames. A shockwave of hellfire erupted from him, creating an inferno in the chamber that melted the other undead rulers into ashes. Saldovin, meanwhile, blew against a wall. Upon landing, he hissed and stared at Aarian who transformed into a demon remarkably similar to Izabaldo—horns, wings, crimson-tinged skin, replete with muscles, and standing fourteen-feet tall.
Aarian’s horns were an inch away from the crystal ceiling. Smoke rising from his fiery nostrils, he snorted and bashed the confining top of the spire multiple times with his enflamed fists, causing the roof to collapse. The moons’ light shone on the demon, allowing Saldovin to see its features.
“Izabaldo?” he gasped.
“You are gravely mistaken, Keldoran,” said Aarian monstrously. “Izabaldo now bows to my will.”
“Impossible!”
“I am pleased to say that it is possible,” said Aarian, cackling. “Your hatred has allowed the Dralekar to manifest, and now it is time for you to join Izabaldo...in hell.”
Saldovin shouted at the top of his lungs as he cast a blood-leech spell on the demon. Even though blood was being drawn, it turned into flames when approaching the dark elf. He shrieked in pain as the fire spewed on him. Saldovin withdrew over to the tip of his shattered throne room. Grimacing, he jumped off the ledge and flew high into the dark sky.
That instant, Aarian spread his wings and pursued him. Saldovin glimpsed at the demon following him from the corner of his eye and shouted out numerous curses, all of which Aarian was immune to. The blood and spirit of an immortal was within him—Izabaldo—and with that he could never be harmed by such petty curses from a being with no soul.
“You would have been better off being possessed, Keldoran!” bellowed Aarian, catching up to him.
At this point, Saldovin was so angry that he turned around and flew straight toward the demon, determined to mind-control him by using his powers of necromancy and demonology. When he glided closer to Aarian, he yelled out a diabolical incantation that caused the clouds to darken. A flash of lightning occurred, accompanied by booming thunder. His pale skin and eyes gleamed with the blood of vampires as he raised his hands, ready to control the demon and force him to do his bidding.
Just then, Aarian stretched out his demonic claws and struck him multiple times. He was so fast that Saldovin still had a heinous smile on his face as his body tore into a thousand pieces, blood gushing down like a waterfall in the dead of night. Aarian glided back to Chevirith without even bothering to look back, landing in the throne room.
Once again, Aarian morphed back to his humyn form. Only then did he turn and gaze
at where he’d struck Saldovin. It was a calm sky, the dark clouds dissipating. He could clearly see the four moons, as well as countless stars flickering. Staring at the midnight view, he breathed with serenity.
“Master Dargain,” he began, “I don’t know if you have gained a soul. I don’t know if you can hear or see me. But what I do know is that tonight you have been avenged.”
He abandoned the ruptured chamber and descended the vampire’s spire, rejoining the legion of savages. An eruption of cheers ignited when he stepped outside. Orcs, trolls, ogres, werewolves, gargoyles, fauns, high elves, and the dragon emperor celebrated the defeat of the Mor’vyi’dou together. Aarian, however, simply walked away from them.
“Aarian!” called out Parla’vasa. When she saw him stop and turn to her, she rushed over to him. “Where are you going?”
“The war hasn’t ended yet,” said Aarian.
“But this is a major victory,” she said, thrilled.
“This was nothing,” he said indifferently, starting to walk away again. “The demons are the true threat. I simply wanted Saldovin to be torn apart before I eradicate the demons from this world.”
“Wait,” she said, gripping his hand. “Earamathras explained everything to me, Dralekar,” she added, trying to get his attention, which she did. “Please listen to me. I know you have a lot of anger within you. And I know you’ve been through a lot. But if you let such rage consume you, then you’ll be no different than the demons.” She now held him tight. “You’re not alone. We have all suffered. That is why we must work together. Please don’t go off on your own. This incredible legion is here only because of you.”
“They are here because they believe I am their Dralekar,” he said.
“Do you believe that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I...I don’t know,” he said. “I hate fate. Were my people destined to be slaughtered, only to become extinct? Was it my destiny to become possessed by a horrible demon? If destiny is in control, then I feel we have no real power over what happens.”
“You don’t have to believe in destiny,” she replied perceptively. “Dralekar or not, as the Prince of Vlydyn, you managed to convince the emperor of Niratredam and his legion to follow you here. And you alone defeated Keldoran. You only need to believe in yourself. If you believe we can purge the demons, then that’s all that matters.”
“The princess of Lar’a’dos speaks wisely,” intervened Earamathras, swooping down. “I know—I have a terrible habit of being too inquisitive for my own good. That said, do not let the intangible concept of destiny hold you back, Dralekar.”
Aarian sighed and nodded, trying to release his anger. Though he held back his tears, he hugged Parla’vasa and embraced her words. The demons had to be purged. And if fate existed—if it was written in the stars above for the demons to succeed, then fate was his enemy. With his strength and the might of his legion, standing united, he vowed to vanquish destiny and eradicate the demons from Yunedar forever.
ACT III
IMMORTALS
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DRAGONS’ DESCENT
After another long journey of sailing across the ocean, Aarian and his comrades arrived at the accursed land of Vlydyn. It had taken them a total of twelve weeks to travel there. A thick mist hampered their vision for a while. When the Guardians of Xen were only a few miles away from the continent, they could finally see what remained of Fal’shar. One of the orcs steered the main vessel toward one of the decrepit and abandoned docks that had once belonged to the dark elves while trolls jumped off and moored the ship to a wooden bollard that looked rotten.
Setting foot on Vlydyn wasn’t easy for Aarian. In fact, he strangely found it to be a lot more difficult than vanquishing the dark elves from Lar’a’dos. The field that lay before him was a wasteland. Most of the ground before him had cracks with steam billowing as if magma flowed beneath him, yearning to spew out. There were no trees, bushes, flowers, animals, or any sign of life as he gazed at the barren continent.
Looking ahead, Aarian noticed that even the gargantuan mountains of Tor’kales had been tainted. Now they stood as volcanic titans, smoke rising from their ruptured peaks. The heavens above the mountainous region had a red tinge, lava sporadically discharging.
“I can’t believe this,” muttered Aarian. “I just can’t.”
The Guardians of Xen disembarked from their vessel and stood beside Aarian, gawking at the desecrated landscape while trying to feel his pain. Putting themselves in his place wasn’t something they could do, but if their brethren had been annihilated like Aarian’s race, they’d show no mercy; and so they vowed to fight as though the demons had killed their own kind. Parla’vasa and Xel’vakora, who joined them as new members of guardians, also stood by the prince’s side.
“I sincerely hope Earamathras comes soon,” said Xel’vakora.
“Don’t rush His Imperial Majesty,” grunted Warlord Varkagorsa. “He flew all the way back to Niratredam in a humble attempt to convince the absurd dwarves to join our cause. If he comes soon we’ll be lucky.”
When six hours passed, and more ships arrived by the dilapidated dock, they heard a roar in the distance.
“Could it be?” said Varkagorsa.
Shakar howled with delight, gazing at the sky above the ocean.
“It is time, Aarian,” said Parla’vasa, gently rubbing his back. “You have set foot on your homeland again. But now we must join the emperor.”
Earamathras descended from the cloudy sky and landed before the guardians, allowing them to climb on his back. When they settled near the brown dragon’s neck, he lifted back into the dreary heavens and swirled around the other ships that were steadily advancing toward the southern coast of Vlydyn.
“Falvorn,” called out Earamathras.
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” he said.
“You’re a small fellow. I mean, compared to me, of course. Since it will be difficult for the demons to see you, why don’t you do a little reconnoitering up north and let us know if you see anything roaming around that might threaten us?”
“My wings won’t disappoint you,” said Falvorn, leaping off and flying north toward the volcanic region of Tor’kales.
“The immortal Spirits have forsaken this land,” said Parla’vasa.
“With the exception of Xen, they are the reason my kingdom lies in ruin,” said Aarian, uptight.
Parla’vasa rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to argue with you,” she said.
“Regardless of the truth,” intervened Xel’vakora, “the demons have taken over the entire continent. Unless we all stand united, we’re in serious trouble.”
“Have no fear, Xel’vakora,” replied Parla’vasa. “My people have agreed to this alliance. They will be docking here shortly along with Earamathras’ legion. The demons may be stronger than us, but we vastly outnumber them.”
“That should be true,” said Aarian, still gazing at his lost kingdom with sadness. “I sealed the hell rift years ago.”
“Don’t be frightened by this, Dralekar,” began Earamathras, “but immeasurably powerful fiends, such as Izabaldo’s eight demon lords, are capable of opening another portal. If even one of them managed to invade our world five years ago, then we will surely be facing a legion of their own.”
“Unbelievable,” grimaced Shakar.
“Do not despair,” replied Earamathras. “The demons lack something we have—the will to put differences aside and work together regardless of race. Demons have no allegiances. They stand alone in battle. We, on the other hand, are an army unlike any. Even the stubborn dwarves who have vowed to destroy us for no apparent reason and separated themselves from Warenyth in the northeastern mountains of Niratredam have agreed to help.”
A few of the guardians cheered when learning this.
“This is incredible news, Your Imperial Majesty,” said Aarian, smiling for the first time since returning to his fallen kingdom. “Was it difficult to convince them?”
>
“I must admit, they were a bit shaken upon my arrival,” said Earamathras, an amused smirk forming on his snout. “But they were willing to listen when I mentioned that name you told me about—Dolwe, was it?” When the dragon saw Aarian grow pale, he continued, “I jest! Olwe, of course, was the dwarf I spoke about. When I told them he died fighting against the one responsible for summoning the demons, the king gave me his word that he will bring an army here to aid us.”
“Excellent,” said Aarian.
“The de’mons won’t stand a chance,” said Zavoba, picking his nose. ‘They gonna regret invadin’ our world.”
The others agreed with Zavoba, except they weren’t picking their noses when nodding at him. Earamathras, meanwhile, continued to flap his tattered wings above the armada for several hours until each and every ship docked. When the legion of savages and elves disembarked, the dragon no longer glided. He flew downward until landing near his swarm. When he faced them to give a speech, he heard Falvorn yelling high in the sky. Gazing up, he spotted the gargoyle approaching.
“Dragons!” he blurted. “Dragons!”
An uproar ignited, the savages panicky for the first time. The high elves weren’t exactly relaxed about this news either. As a matter of fact, the emperor seemed to be the only one who wasn’t perturbed. Hearing them complain, he gave out an ear-shattering roar. Silence descended upon the alliance, broken only by the resonance of the dragon’s roar that repeated several times, the echo gradually lowering until no longer within earshot.
“That’s better,” said Earamathras. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. There is no dragon mightier than me. I am the emperor of Niratredam. Is there another dragon emperor out there that I don’t know about?”
