Serhan nodded approvingly. He was strong. Almost as strong as himself. In fact, were it not that he had taken the oath two years earlier than Drewin, his subordinate would now be the one leading the Tul’Zahar.
He shifted his attention to Sadich and Thradus. “And how are you two faring? Finding enough mischief?” The pair were brothers, inducted into the order only days apart. Still young, they were known for their practical jokes and spirited nature.
“Enough blood for everyone, for a change,” Sadich replied with a sinister smirk.
“I think the steel in my blade has grown wearier than my sword arm,” added Thradus.
Serhan frowned. “So you left your mounts and fought on foot?”
The pair looked to one another, then back to their commander. It was Thradus who spoke. “Only for a short time. We just couldn’t stand seeing the soldiers have all the fun.”
Serhan shook his head. “The soldiers are here to fight and die. The two of you have far more important duties. Too important to risk your lives over a bit of sport.”
“I apologize,” they replied in unison. But the smiles that lingered on their faces cast doubts on the strength of their sincerity.
Serhan grunted and turned to Drewin. “Have you seen the others?”
He shook his head. “I’m sure they’ll be along shortly.” “They had better be.” He looked to the battle far below. “Each moment’s delay costs more lives.”
As his eyes rose again, Serhan was just in time to catch the brothers exchanging what appeared to be a furtive glance. He also noticed their hands drifting ever closer to their blades. He furrowed his brow, wondering what was going on. Were they really acting suspiciously?
He dismissed such thoughts as nothing more than prebattle nerves. Where were the others? He strained his eyes in every direction, but after more than five minutes there was still no sign of anyone else arriving. He blew his horn once again, but the skies around them remained stubbornly empty.
It was then that he noticed Drewin gradually positioning his dragon to the left – away from his commander’s sword arm. The brothers had also moved and were now sitting slightly above him. His senses instantly sharpened and he allowed the magic dwelling within his merkesh to flow into his hands. Drewin immediately picked up on this.
“Is something wrong, Commander?” he asked, his own hand resting on the pommel of his sword.
“I don’t know,” Serhan replied darkly. “Is there?”
Drewin locked eyes with him for a long moment. Slowly, his mouth twisted into a smile and he gave a mirthless chuckle. “Always the perceptive one.”
Serhan’s jaw tightened. So his mind had not been playing tricks. Something was indeed seriously wrong. Treachery was in the air. “Where are the others?” he demanded.
“Dead,” Drewin replied matter-of-factly. He pointed at his commander. “You are the last.”
Serhan’s eyes shot from Drewin to the brothers and back again. Ragnir, sensing her master’s anxiety, was tensing uneasily beneath him.
“Why have you done this?”
His second-in-command raised an eyebrow. “You ask why? Surely you can’t be serious. You have led us to ruin. You defied our king, stole his property, and have instigated a war that you must have known we could never win.”
“King Zemel is a madman and you know it,” he shot back. “The Scepter should never have been in his possession. It was not meant to be wielded by mortal man. I only did what I had to do.”
Drewin nodded. “Yes. He is a madman. But a powerful one. Even without the Scepter, he would have destroyed us. At least now the Tul’Zahar will endure.”
“And how exactly does killing your brothers do anything to save the Tul’Zahar?”
Drewin’s face hardened and his eyes burned. “It is your fault they had to die. I tried to spare them. But such was their blind loyalty to you and to your folly that they would not see reason.”
“Save your lies,” Serhan spat at him. “You made a bargain with Zemel. And the price was the Tul’Zahar. You are without honor. The only thing that comforts me is knowing that in the end, Zemel will betray you, too.”
“Enough of this talk,” shouted Sadich. “I have listened to this self-righteous bastard for far too long. Let’s just kill him and be done with it.” The song of steel rang out as he drew his sword.
Drewin raised a hand in an attempt to stop the inexperienced youth, but it was too late. Serhan was already reacting. Thrusting his left hand out, a bolt of blue lightning sprang forth from his fingertips, striking Sadich squarely in the chest. With his right hand, he freed his own sword and leashed the bolt to the tip of the blade. Sadich’s eyes shot wide. Before he could make any kind of defensive move, the lightning exploded, shredding his breastplate and throwing him completely from his mount. As he plummeted toward the distant ground, Thradus cried out his name. Both he and the riderless dragon then went into steep dives in pursuit his brother.
Serhan unleashed another bolt, this one aimed at Drewin. But his treacherous second-in-command would not be taken off guard so easily. He had already raised a defensive ward. Only a few tiny sparks made it through the shimmering disk of light – not nearly enough to cause any real injury.
Serhan urged Ragnir to dive hard left. As they dropped, he drew in more power, casting ward upon ward around both himself and his dragon. Blasts of fire and lightning at his back told him that Drewin was close behind. Faster and faster they swooped. The battlefield below was now coming up fast. With the wind roaring in his ears, he was forced to grip the saddle horn tightly to remain mounted.
When they were a mere fifty feet from the earth, Ragnir let out a thunderous roar and leveled off. With the enemy army directly below them, Serhan felt two more waves of magic attacking him from above, though this time they were not coming from Drewin’s direction. He looked up and to his left. Sadich’s dragon had apparently caught up with him in time because he was now back in its saddle, his face contorted with fury. Both he and Thradus were sending multiple spears of silver light raining down at Serhan. But it was an undisciplined, hit-or-miss assault fueled largely by their anger, and his wards were more than adequate to protect him from the few that did find their target. Those that missed, however, were causing chaos on the field below. Spear after spear of light shot past him to strike unsuspecting soldiers, ripping their bodies apart like wet parchment.
“Climb!” Serhan shouted.
Ragnir’s wings pounded with unimaginable strength, lifting them well above the battlefield again in no time at all. But rapid as their ascent was, more attacks from the brothers continued to pepper him. Their dragons may not have been anywhere near as powerful as Ragnir, but they were far quicker and more agile. In mere moments they had managed to circle around to be positioned above and to his front, all the while continuing their seemingly useless assault against his wards.
They’re trying to keep my attention, Serhan realized. His eyes desperately searched for Drewin, eventually spotting him only fifty or so feet above and to his back. As fast as he could, he sheathed his sword and began drawing in yet more power. Wards against magic were a simple thing for someone of his experience, and Drewin understood this as well as anyone. Serhan concentrated on shaping the more complicated wards that would counter physical attacks. One minute. That was as fast as he had ever created one. Would he be granted that long this time?
The ominous thudding of large wings approaching quickly spelled out the futility of such a hope. Ragnir let out a roar of agony as talons sank into her tail. Serhan drew his sword again and took a swipe at Drewin’s mount. His blade found flesh, though only enough to cause a minor wound. Ragnir spun sharply, ripping her tail free from the other dragon’s grip and almost throwing Serhan from the saddle in the process.
He knew he needed to get higher. But the brothers had ceased their magical attack and were concentrating on closing in. Growling with anger, Ragnir flew straight at them. Unwilling to face the enraged dragon head on, the pai
r split left and right, allowing Serhan to pass straight between them. For a moment he thought he might be able to get high enough to manage an escape, but then another cry of agony came from deep within Ragnir’s throat. Twisting around, he saw that Drewin’s dragon had one of his mount’s rear legs clenched tightly in its maw. Held back by an almost equal weight, their ascent immediately slowed to virtually nothing. The two smaller dragons had been given the opportunity they needed. They dived in from either side to grab a wing each of Ragnir’s firmly in their claws, twisting hard to inflict maximum injury.
Serhan rose from the saddle and prepared to charge at Thradus, but it was too late. Their deadly work already done, all three attacking dragons simultaneously released Ragnir. Desperately she pounded the air, but her wings were now too badly damaged for any chance of flight. Clutching at the saddle horn as they dropped, Serhan braced himself for the moment they struck ground.
Ragnir’s broken wings continued to beat furiously, at least slowing their descent sufficiently to save them from a truly devastating impact. Even so, when contact came, it was still hard enough to rattle every bone in Serhan’s body. But there was no time to worry about that. Sharply aware that they were well behind King Zemel’s lines and completely surrounded, he jumped clear of Ragnir and was ready in an instant, sword in hand. His eyes darted back and forth, seeking attackers. But the enemy soldiers nearby were already backing away. No one among them was fool enough to challenge a Tul’Zahar and his dragon, even when they were so obviously wounded.
Ragnir’s tail was riddled with deep gashes and both wings hung limply, broken in the middle. Her back leg had been mangled beyond healing by Drewin’s dragon. After blowing out a guttural breath, she limped forward to meet him.
“I’m sorry, my love,” Serhan told her. He drew in what little power he had remaining and used it to ease the dragon’s suffering. She lowered her massive head, pressing it into his chest while moaning softly.
It was a short respite. The ground shook as the three traitors landed a few yards to his back. Even though his wards were still in place, he knew there was no way for him to fight them all successfully. He spun to meet his enemy with rage-filled eyes.
“Don’t be a fool,” warned Drewin. “It’s over.”
“Face me, you coward,” Serhan challenged. “Or has the king taken your courage as well as your honor?”
Drewin sneered. “To face one as accomplished in single combat as you is not an act of courage… Commander. It is rank stupidity. No. I think it would be much better if you just throw down your sword.”
By now, Thradus and Sadich had urged their dragons to the left and right. Cruel little smiles appeared on their faces. He read it as eager anticipation. There was a certain kind of warrior who savored the killing to come. They belonged to that breed.
Serhan glanced down at the jewel that held the aspect of his beloved wife. “Very well, I will submit,” he said. “But only on one condition.”
“And what is that?” asked Drewin.
“Find a way to spare my family.”
Drewin heaved a weary sigh. “I wish I could help you. I truly do. But King Zemel has plans for them. The boy in particular.”
Serhan’s grip on his sword tightened. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “I see.”
There was nothing else left to debate. All he could do now was go down fighting and die with the honor expected of a Tul’Zahar commander.
The sinews of his powerful legs tensed. He could hear the dragons creeping in on either side of him. Drewin, on the other hand, maintained his position further back. Shrewd as always.
In a blur of speed, Serhan ran left, straight toward Sadich. Startled by this unexpected assault, the young dragon reared up, throwing its rider momentarily off balance. Before the creature could lower its head to offer a defense, Serhan dived low and rolled. Sadich twisted in the saddle and thrust his blade downwards, but Serhan easily avoided the strike. An instant later, he was back on his feet. With a grunt of satisfaction, he brought his sword hard down on the young man’s shin. The razor sharp steel sliced effortlessly through armor, flesh, and then bone. Sadich instantly dropped his weapon, a wail of agony bursting from his mouth.
Serhan stepped in to finish the job, but just as he raised his sword, a mighty swipe from the dragon’s talons struck him in the center of the back. It was like being hit with a battering ram. The sheer force sent him flying more than ten feet through the air. As he thudded back down onto the ground, violent spasms of pain gripped him, and he could feel blood already soaking his back. Only the superb craftsmanship of his armor had saved him from being ripped to shreds. Gasping for air but with sword still in hand, he somehow struggled onto his side.
Sadich had fallen from the saddle and was writhing on the ground, his lifeblood spilling over. The dragon, seeing its rider’s distress, was standing over him defensively.
Serhan cast his eyes over to the right, wondering why no attack had come from that flank yet. It was quickly explained. His beloved Ragnir, though severely injured, had her jaws clamped tightly around the other young dragon’s neck – a fatal grip from which it would never be able to struggle free. Thradus could see the inevitability of this and was scrambling to dismount, though not fast enough. With a sharp flick of her head, Ragnir flung the lifeless dragon contemptuously aside with Thradus still clinging atop it. She then turned her attention back to Serhan. With wings dragging and limping even more heavily than before, she started toward where he was lying.
Serhan opened his mouth to cry out a warning, but before he could utter a sound, Drewin’s dragon leapt forward to seize Ragnir from the rear. First its talons sank into her back; then its jaws clamped down around her muscular neck. It was a similar deadly grip to the one Ragnir herself had used only moments before. And like the young dragon, there was no escape for her either. Had she not been in such a severely weakened condition, she might have stood a fighting chance. As it was, she had none at all.
Unable to bear the terrible sight, Serhan closed his eyes and let out an anguished scream.
He attempted to rise, but it felt as if his back had been shattered by the dragon’s blow. Helpless, he could only lie there and desperately tried to shut out the sound of Ragnir’s death cries. When they finally ceased, something inside – a final acknowledgement of her bravery perhaps? – compelled him to look over at her ravaged body. Blood glistened across her beautiful scales, shimmering in the glorious sunlight and for one precious moment seeming to be so alive still, despite the fact that her eyes stared lifelessly into oblivion.
“This is your own fault,” said Drewin, sliding down from his saddle.
A short distance away, Thradus was knelt beside his dead dragon, frantically trying to use his healing magic to restore her life.
“Tend to your brother instead,” ordered Drewin.
The young man straightened his back and wiped his face. His gaze then fell on the fallen and helpless figure of Serhan. Springing to his feet, he ran headlong at him, eyes blazing with vengeful intent. Drewin moved swiftly to block his path and wrap restraining arms around his body. Thradus struggled and twisted violently for several seconds in an attempt to wrench himself free, but Drewin was far stronger and held him easily.
“Sadich is dying,” he shouted, forcing the youth to look at him directly. “Go help him. Serhan will suffer for what he has done. I promise you that.”
Slowly Thradus calmed and was allowed to pull away. After casting one more hate-filled glare at Serhan, he hurried over to tend his brother.
Drewin loomed menacingly over Serhan. “Well fought, Commander,” he said. “The others didn’t last for more than a few seconds. But I knew not to underestimate you, even when outnumbered and taken by surprise. A pity Sadich and Thradus weren’t as careful.” He shrugged. “Oh, well. The inexperience of youth.”
“Do what you came to do,” Serhan growled, lifting his chin to meet the eyes of his one-time friend. “I don’t care to hear your treacher
ous voice.”
Drewin shook his head. “Defiant to the last. But you’re right. There is no need to prolong this.”
After muttering a few words, his hands began to glow with a faint blue aura. He reached down and touched Serhan lightly on the forehead. The effect was immediate.
Serhan saw a flash of brilliant white light… then utter blackness.
* * * * *
Consciousness returned once again. How many days he had been held, he could no longer tell. The stench of urine and feces mingled with the odor of burning coals. Sweat and blood blurred his vision, but he did not need sight to know where he was.
The slow groan of the iron door followed by a thud of heavy boots told him that it must be time once again. Time for more pain.
“I must say I’m impressed. I never imagined anyone could hold out for so long.”
It was Drewin speaking. Serhan never had any trouble in recognizing his treacherous voice. He wanted to reply, to curse him as a coward, but his throat was too dry and swollen.
“I thought you’d like to know that the allies are now in full retreat.”
Serhan turned his head. He could make out only the misty outline of Drewin’s body. A few seconds later, he felt a cup filled with water being lifted to his lips. Much as he wanted to spit the liquid back into the man’s face, his thirst was too great. He couldn’t help but gulp at it greedily. A cool rag then cleaned his face and eyes. Drewin smiled down at him and took a step back.
Seeing the traitor filled him with uncontrollable rage. He struggled violently against the chains securing his arms and legs to the rough wooden table, ignoring the pain caused by both the injuries suffered in battle and the days of relentless torture that had followed.
“Calm yourself, Commander,” Drewin said. “I’m here to help you.”
“Save your lies,” he croaked.
Drewin put the cup against his lips once more, and again he drank. But this time he was able to hold back from swallowing the final mouthful and spat it back full in the face of his betrayer. It was only a very small victory, but it felt good nonetheless.
Dragonvein Book Five Page 35
