Blood Immortal

by Paul Centeno

  “No,” said many savages in chorus.

  “Precisely,” said the dragon proudly. “I alone have outlived the demons during the era of haunting. I alone have outlived the accursed Spirits that now plague this land. And I alone shall destroy them all.” He paused for a moment, as though dithering about which one to kill first, and then asked, “Falvorn, how many are there?”

  “I saw four of them near those mountains,” he replied, pointing at Tor’kales.

  Earamathras laughed thunderously. “That’s it? I was hoping for a challenge, such as ten or twenty.”

  “What if they’re possessed?” asked Xel’vakora.

  “Bah!” wavered the dragon, snorting. “We are nearly immune to being haunted. And if we are possessed, we have the strength to break free. That is why I of all beings survived during the first era. If such dragons intend to do us harm, they shall pay for it with their lives.”

  Many of the alliance cheered at the emperor who then spread his wings and hastily took off, flying along the clouds. The Guardians of Xen remained on his back as he flew toward the volcanic mountains of Tor’kales, which were now emitting molten lava. Meanwhile, the alliance marched forward.

  “That is a beautiful sight,” said Parla’vasa.

  “I think it’s abysmal,” said Aarian, looking ahead.

  “What?” she said. “No, not the volcanoes. I mean the alliance. Just look at the size of that army you have managed to gather by yourself.”

  “Mind you, the dwarves aren’t even here yet,” said Xel’vakora.

  “I suppose it’s impressive,” said Aarian.

  “Let’s just hope it’s enough to defeat the demons,” said Falvorn, leaping off the dragon’s back and flying beside him.

  The other guardians concurred with him, Earamathras continuing to fly north. In due time he approached the volcanic mountains. Sure enough, the dragons took notice of him and changed their aimless course, heading directly toward him. Gaping into their eyes, Earamathras gasped in a panicky tone for the first time in eons.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Aarian.

  “No,” uttered Earamathras. “It can’t be.” He took a deep breath, swerving away from the dragons as though afraid. “Never in my entire life have I ever heard of or seen patriarch dragons possessed.”

  “Stay on course, Your Imperial Majesty,” commanded Aarian, unsheathing his sword. “I will help you.”

  “What?” responded Shakar.

  “You may be the Dralekar,” began the warlord, “but that doesn’t mean you can slay dragons.”

  “Actually, he has slain one before,” said Parla’vasa.

  “Trust me,” said Aarian with confidence. “Just bring me close enough to jump onto one and I’ll take it from there.”

  “You are a brave humyn, Dralekar,” said Earamathras, astonished. “Very well, I shall do as you have asked.”

  The emperor returned to his original course and swiftly drew closer to the black-scaled dragons whose eyes gleamed red. Upon reaching them, he released his poisonous breath on one while trying to claw another that swerved away, dodging it. In the meantime, Aarian jumped off the emperor and landed on a black dragon.

  Standing up, Aarian noticed that several undead Mor’vyi’dou rode on the dragon. As soon as they spotted him, they unsheathed their double-bladed scimitars and sprinted toward Aarian to strike him down. Aarian bashed one with his shield while decapitating another. He then parried an attack from yet another fiend and riposted, shattering its ribcage. The undead elf was still animate, so Aarian kicked him off the dragon. Afterwards, he focused his attention on the last dark elf, which was the one he’d banged with his shield. He dodged its attacks and then struck its spine, splitting the fiend in half.

  Once he finished dealing with the undead, the prince walked across the dragon’s back. When he approached its neck, he dug his sword into its scales. The dragon screeched. He kept attacking while the possessed beast twirled upside down, attempting to force Aarian off its body. Its rotary motion, however, was bad timing what with Aarian having dug his sword deep into its body; he held on tight to his hilt.

  In the meantime, Earamathras repeatedly breathed fire on the possessed dragons. He then struck one in the face with his elongated tail and managed to tear open its chest using his front claws. Although the demonic beast had been gravely wounded, it spewed flame at the emperor. Earamathras gave out a shrilling yelp, his scaly body scorched and severely scarred with third-degree burns.

  “I cannot last much longer,” said Earamathras, groaning in pain.

  Worried, the guardians on his back jumped onto another dragon when they had a chance and tried to wound it as Aarian was doing with the black dragon he’d leapt onto. The beast they landed upon had undead scouts on its back. These fiends, however, were not dark elves; they were humyns. Though it pained the guardians to destroy these minions, feeling Aarian should be the one to put them out of their misery, they had no choice but to strike them down.

  Even though the four possessed dragons were being injured, they were, without a doubt, harming the emperor. Earamathras inhaled deeply, once again giving out a roar that was so loud it sounded as though the sky had split. One of the four dragons was caught by the roar, its horns and teeth shattering and its neck snapping. At this point the other guardians stabbed the dragon they’d landed on until killing it and then jumped off, climbing back on Earamathras who started searching for Aarian.

  Two dragons remained, one of them flying beneath the emperor. It hastily swirled upside down and slashed Earamathras’ chest while also spewing fire on his face, melting off a part of his snout. The emperor roared in horrible pain, descending to the ground fast. He attempted to use the last of his strength to land safely so as not to harm the guardians but groaned and gasped in the process. With only seconds left before crashing, he pulled up. Though Earamathras still fell hard and produced a crater with the impact, he managed to save the others who slid off his charred scales.

  Aarian, in the meantime, continued to thrust his sword into the second dragon’s neck and then sprinted over to its head, jabbing his blade down and piercing its skull. The dragon croaked, falling down fast. This caused Aarian to fall with the beast. He held his sword’s hilt as tight as he could but eventually lost his grip when the dragon smashed through the ground, causing him to plunge into an immense crater formed by the slain creature.

  “Aarian!” cried out Parla’vasa, rushing over to him.

  “I’m still alive,” he said, slowly rising to his feet.

  “Thank the Spirits,” she said, overjoyed.

  Though his golden-colored armor had been severely dented, areas of its gryphon features no longer discernible, it was still, for the most part, intact. He removed his sword from the beast and climbed out of the crater. At that exact moment, the last possessed dragon swooped down and spewed fire at them.

  “Get down!” shouted Aarian with urgency.

  Forcing her to duck, he raised his embossed shield and deflected the breath of fire. Doing so, however, caused the relief of Scar’s face to thaw. The dragon returned to the sky near a few drifting clouds and remained there for a while. Aarian’s shield sizzling, he lowered it and then ran with Parla’vasa over to Earamathras who lay on the ground. Aarian saw his wounds, slack-jawed.

  “Earamathras,” he said in dismay.

  “A bold plan, Dralekar,” mumbled the emperor, short of breath. “Though, I am afraid it has failed.”

  “Your Imperial Majesty,” began Varkagorsa, patting his emperor gently on the part of his face that wasn’t burnt, “please don’t speak. You must save your energy. We have slain three of the four dragons.”

  “That’s not...good enough,” gasped Earamathras.

  “You mustn’t speak,” growled Shakar, licking him. “Please rest. We will handle the remaining dragon.”

  “It’s too late for me,” stammered the emperor, croaking.

  “Nonsense,” said Aarian. “You’ve come too far to be stop
ped here. You are, without a doubt, the mightiest of all dragons. You will fight on and see this war to the en—”

  Before he could finish, Earamathras stopped breathing. The last dragon gave out an ear-piercing roar, flying high in the heavens. This alarmed the guardians, raising their weapons; yet the demonic dragon remained amid the clouds as though taunting them to come back if they dared. The guardians then turned their attention back to the dead emperor. During this time, the legion of savages approached his body. They gazed upon Earamathras and cried, along with the Guardians of Xen.

  Shakar howled and wept, continuing to lick the emperor. Warlord Varkagorsa placed his head upon the dragon’s horned cranium and then shouted in a lamenting tone. The troll, Zavoba, did the same. Aarian simply gawked at Earamathras blankly, his eyes wide and teary. He refused to cry. This was a terrible moment. This was his worst day yet since Master Dargain had died, he thought to himself. But he refused for this to be the end. He clenched his fists in anger, his eyes glowing red with absolute hatred; he was ready to put an end to the demons and their possessions once and for all.

  Within seconds, Aarian transformed into his demon form. Upon doing so, he spread his wings and flew straight into the sky. The remaining dragon went inside a dark cloud. Aarian ruthlessly pursued it. Barely able to see, he zoomed through it, only to be whacked hard in the back with the dragon’s spiky tail. He hurled forward, his back bleeding with several punctures, and then turned around.

  “Is that all?” groaned Aarian haughtily.

  The dragon then spewed fire over his face. Even though this didn’t affect him what with him being a demon and immune to any kind of fire, the possessed beast simultaneously struck his chest with its razor-sharp claws, gashing his chest deeply. This time Aarian gasped in pain, withdrawing while flapping his bony, enflamed wings backwards. The dragon, however, swiftly maneuvered behind him and whacked his back again with its tail, sending him down.

  Aarian parted from the cloud quicker than a zap of lightning. He fell lifelessly, his upper chest and back filled with monstrous wounds. Closing his eyes that no longer gleamed—his body throbbing in agonizing pain—he realized that he brought this upon himself for being so damned arrogant.

  “No,” he muttered painfully. “This can’t be...”

  At that point, he recalled the wisdom of Earamathras: “It is absolutely imperative you understand that just because you are the Dralekar doesn’t mean you are invincible.” He then heard the same voice of the emperor ingrained within his mind speak to him again, “Remember, you’re vulnerable against others who are immortal.”

  “Forgive me,” wheezed Aarian, approaching the land.

  Smashing through the ground, he created an even deeper depression than the one caused by the dead emperor. He heard the other dragon roar in triumph as he unwillingly returned to his humyn appearance. Despite how powerful he’d become, Aarian neither had the energy nor the willpower to shape-shift back into his demon form. Hearing others cry out to him, particularly Parla’vasa, he tried opening his eyes and raising an arm for aid. Yet he couldn’t move a muscle. Instead he lay crippled and defeated, passing out in the smoke-filled crater.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  STRIFE IN THE CLOUDS

  Aarian lay on consecrated ground, a verdant and sunlit plain where blooming flowers of various colors and crystal trees grew. Mountains of white gold also stood in the far distance. Before him was Xen, levitating. She gracefully descended upon Aarian, extending her hands.

  “You cannot give up,” she echoed into his mind.

  “I have failed miserably,” he said, getting to his feet with difficulty. “Earamathras is dead because of me.”

  “That is not true, and you know it,” she said in a firm tone. “He lived longer than most could ever dream of. Like many heroes who have joined your glorious alliance, he died fighting valiantly for what he believed in.”

  “Look at me,” he said, glancing at his gashed chest.

  “Now that you can blame yourself for,” she said. “But you have already admitted to this before falling unconscious, which is good.”

  “Is it too late?” he asked.

  “Well,” she began, sighing, “I don’t believe it is. Though, your arrogance has cost you control of Izabaldo.”

  Aarian stiffened when hearing this.

  “Don’t be too afraid,” she said calmly. “He dwells deep within your subconscious mind and wishes to keep it this way for a while—no doubt until you’re in an even weaker state than you currently are.”

  “Why isn’t he trying to attack me now?” he asked.

  “Because he’s more afraid of you than you are of him,” she replied. “Furthermore, he fears me too.”

  “I see,” he said, exhaling heavily. “What now?”

  “Now I do something that I’ve never done before,” she said. “You see, without control of Izabaldo’s soul, your body may not heal. You’re going to need another Spirit...one that you have tapped into within the nether.”

  “Who’s?”

  Her eyes downcast, she replied, “This is a pivotal turning point in the history of Yunedar; a defining moment in which I must act upon no matter how afraid I may be.”

  “What in the world are you talking about?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

  “I must sacrifice my soul and give it to you,” she said.

  “Over my dead body,” he responded with scorn. “You’re the only immortal Spirit people can reach out to without being cursed. You mustn’t do that.”

  “If I don’t then you may very well die,” she said. “If that happens, Izabaldo will, without a doubt, take over your body. The alternative is for me to possess you; however, I made an oath eons ago to never possess another living being again.”

  “This is preposterous,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t let you do this, Xen.”

  “I’m afraid you have little choice in the matter,” she said, beginning to glow brighter than the sun. “As a matter of fact, you have no choice.”

  “Wait!” he yelled, staggering. “Don’t do it!”

  An immeasurable blinding light permeated around her, and then she dissipated within the illumination. Just then, the radiant ray beamed into him. He blasted back and fell to the ground, blanking out. That instant, he awoke at the bottom of a crater. Gasping loudly and opening his eyes, he placed his hands against his chest, no longer feeling a deep gash. He looked down and noticed he no longer had any wounds.

  “Mercy of U’cleria,” said Parla’vasa, stunned. Rushing over to him, she shouted, “He’s alive! Oh, thank the Nine! He’s alive!”

  Most of the alliance cheered with relief. A few who belonged to the swarm grunted over her words while others ignored her ignorance, praising Aarian as the immortal Dralekar. This was a moment of respite for them, feeling hope still existed. Though the emperor lay dead, at least his chosen champion, Aarian, was still alive. Many of the legion swiftly climbed down the depression, helping the Dralekar get to his feet.

  “Thank you, my friends,” he said, slightly blushing since dozens upon dozens of alliance members were helping him. After clearing his throat, he continued, “We better make haste and get out of this hole.”

  Though it took a while, he and his fellow comrades climbed to the surface and panted. Trying to catch his breath, Aarian gazed above to see if he’d spot the dragon that had nearly killed him. It was apparently hiding in the dark clouds that looked as though they were on the verge of releasing a downpour of rain.

  “Great,” said Aarian, frustration in his voice. “Now we’re at the dragon’s mercy.”

  “Need a helping hand?” said a voice from above. “Or in my case...need a helping talon? No, that just doesn’t sound right. How about: do you need a lift?”

  “Huh?” uttered Aarian, looking overhead.

  From out of nowhere, it seemed to the alliance, a narll patriarch gryphon came swooping down, its bulky brown-feathered wings flapping wildly while landing. Its chest’s white p
lumage swelled as it inhaled, producing a mighty squawk, its immense beak poking Aarian.

  His face lit up when he gazed upon it. “Scar!” he cried out, hugging the gryphon. “Xen be praised. You’re alive. How can this be? What happened to you?”

  “Hmmm,” he muttered. “So many questions. Which one should I answer first? Yes, well, you know I was almost smashed to bits when those meteors came down on us near the garden. It was so chaotic that I abandoned the idea of waiting for someone to open the temple door for me, at which point I flew up and got as far away from Jerelaith as I could. I’ve been hiding around here for years; the demons don’t have a habit of coming around here much. Well, at least until now.”

  “I missed you so much,” said Aarian, tears of joy dripping down his eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

  “Ah, I missed you too,” he said, rubbing his beak against Aarian’s face. “By the way, that is some fine armor you’ve got there. But, um, it has a few dents. And that shield...hmmm. I think you need a new one.”

  “If only you saw it about an hour ago,” said Aarian, sighing. “I forged it myself—your face glorified it.”

  “Mine?” said Scar, chuckling. “It must have been quite ugly.”

  “Nonsense,” said Aarian, waving a hand. “So what if you have a scar on your face? It gives you character.”

  Varkagorsa hawked, spitting out phlegm. Not a second later, Aarian apologized and introduced the alliance to Scar. The mighty swarm of savages were quite impressed that he was a narll, reminding them of their emperor. And just so, he was astonished with them. Seeing a legion of this magnitude certainly wasn’t something he expected to see in his lifetime. He bowed before them, as they did with him.

  “Will you join us, Scar?” asked Aarian.

  “Are you kidding?” replied Scar, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you think I asked if you needed a lift in the first place?”

  Aarian smiled like never before, mounting his best friend while unsheathing his sword. “I think it’s time we pay a visit to that dragon hiding in the clouds. But this time I’ll need to use a lot more caution.”