by Logan Petty
"I'll make you a deal, boy." Malsivith trembled, speaking now under his breath, instead of the boisterous roar he employed before, "I'll let you win this day, but in exchange, you spare my life. Allow me to leave right now, and I'll never return to Caer Teallagh."
Sturmedge's lightning reflected in Sawain's resolved eyes as he bore down on Malsivith harder, "I don't make deals with dragons."
Malsivith nodded frantically as he tried his best to avoid the crushing blows of Sturmedge, "Very wise indeed, but what if we enter into a mutually beneficial deal with no strings attached?"
"Enough!" Sawain roared, the rims of his eyes turning red.
Malsivith stammered onward as his back pressed against the wall of the volcano, "W-wait! Hear me out! All dragons have treasures, right? Mine may be the spirits of great heroes, but what do you think I do with all their magic weapons and gear after I collect them? I have to recreate them for my ghosts to use in their afterlife, right? That means I have an entire trove packed to the brim with an unimaginable amount of wealth and power, ripe for the taking!"
Sawain's assault hesitated. Malsivith sprung at the opportunity. He unleashed a counterattack of his own, knocking Sawain off balance, striking at him with glaive, tail, wing and even fire as he tried to land a swift killing blow against the tiny target. He managed to push Sawain back into the open. Just as the Swerdbrekker tried to recover, Malsivith found his opening and lashed his tail at Sawain's arm. It struck hard, spinning the Swerdbrekker about. The dragon lunged forward and wrapped his claws around the boy, wincing at the arcs of electricity that threatened to fry him.
Despite his strongest grip, the half-elf managed to not only avoid being crushed like the bug Malsivith believed him to be, but also nearly broke his hold. In a panic, Malsivith glanced down at the rising lake of lava. He folded his wings and dove downward, preparing to launch Sawain into the inferno, even if it meant sacrificing his own hand.
Before he could reach the surface, a bolt of lightning tore through the glass dome at the top of the city and struck his clenched fist. The intense pain forced his hand to unfurl, allowing Sawain to break free.
"No... NOOO!"
The Swerdbrekker spun around in midair and maneuvered around Malsivith, who managed to open his wings in time to flap once and recover before diving into molten magma. The gale his massive wings generated smashed into the lava, which created a tidal wave of fire. Sawain had to hasten upward to avoid the immolating heat. Malsivith took this opportunity to strike. He opened his jaws wide and chomped at Sawain.
Kyra, who had managed to rendezvous with the rest of the liberation force at the top of the city, watched in horror as Malsivith swallowed Sawain in a single bite. Mari wrapped her arms around Songrandir, who cooed pitifully. Naralei shook her head in disbelief as Loraleth raised a hand to her mouth.
Malsivith roared triumphantly, "I AM MALSIVITH! I AM YOUR GOD AND YOU-- AND You... What? Hurk!"
Malsivith hacked and coughed a moment. His eyes widened in surprise as a shining blade of purest lightning, the size of a greatsword, jutted out of his throat. In a single deft sweep around the entire circumference of the dragon's neck, the blade whirled and severed his head from his shoulders. Sawain burst out of the wound, hovering in the air as Malsivith's corpse splashed into the magma below, causing a sinister hiss as flames wrapped around his body. Drougetath fell to the ground, clanking harmlessly against the crumbled masonry as it returned to its former size.
All of the survivors cheered in unison as Sawain landed on a raised pavilion that hovered on ten stone bridges just below the dome. He looked out on the remnants of the city. Small groups of dwarves emerged from the wreckage of the top three levels which remained untouched by magma. A chant rose up within the sweltering halls of Caer Teallagh that rang triumphant.
"HAIL SWERDBREKKER! HAIL TURIN!"
The chant echoed itself as the survivors shouted out for several minutes. The roar of a dragon suddenly drowned it out as a pale, shimmering, translucent version of Malsivith flew out of the inferno, his red eyes still burning like flames. Sawain braced himself as the ghostly dragon spread its wings before him in a terrifying display. Sawain sighed.
"You can't stay dead, can you?"
The dragon sneered at Sawain, "YOU FOOL! I AM A GOD! I CANNOT DIE! THE SOULS THE DROUGETATH HAVE SIPHONED ARE NOW ONE WITH ME AND I WITH THEM! I AM IMMORTAL! NOW JOIN OUR COLLECTIVE!"
The dragon lunged at Sawain, who took to the air again. He swung at Malsivith's head, but Sturmedge passed right through without doing anything to him. Sawain dodged the whip of the dragon's tail but could not outmaneuver his ghostly breath. As cold flames enveloped him, Sturmedge fanned out and formed a sphere of electricity around him that protected him.
As soon as the threat cleared, Sawain launched himself for another attack, but as Malsivith countered with his tail, he tried to slice it off. The whip cracked straight through Sturmedge and caught him on the jaw, suddenly feeling entirely solid as it sent him reeling. Malsivith's manic laughter boomed through the city.
"YOU CANNOT HARM ME! NO WEAPON FORGED AMONG THE LIVING CAN!"
"I can think of one."
"WHAT?"
Malsivith roared in pain as Drougetath ripped through his chest from behind. As it passed though him, his body went with it. He unraveled, like a spool of yarn, the tendrils of his ghostly form wrapped around the spinning blades of the ghostly weapon.
"HOW? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?"
He tried to fight against the pull of Drougetath, but no soul, dragon or otherwise, could escape its snare. It ripped his essense apart and pulled him strand by strand into its glowing blades until his screaming ceased and the Ghost Eater had finished its meal.
Sawain watched the whirling blade return to the one who had thrown it. Banthan caught it with an outstretched hand as it passed his perch on the ledge of the dome above. He shadowstepped down to the pavilion Sawain landed on and twirled his new weapon in his hand.
"Not bad, right? For a traitor?"
Sawain's wings dissipated and Sturmedge withdrew into a gleaming golden bracer around his right wrist. He locked eyes with the elf.
"Banthan... I'm sorry. I never should have accused you of being a traitor."
"That's not good enough," Banthan retorted.
Sawain outstretched his hands to either side, "What more do you want from me?"
Banthan glared at him a moment before answering, "I want you to say it out loud for everyone to hear. I want you to say you were wrong."
Sawain sighed and grit his teeth, "Fine... I was wrong."
"And admit that my plan worked out better than yours."
"What?"
Banthan tilted his head, "Come on, say it."
"Ugh, okay. Your plan... was better than mine. But only barely."
"And admit that I'm the better looking one."
Sawain growled, "I'll do no such thing!"
Banthan wrapped an arm around Sawain's shoulder, "Oh alright. I guess I'll forgive you anyway. Can we please get out of this active volcano? It's way too hot for my taste."
Chapter Twenty Three:
The survivors of Malsivith's rampage slowly made their way to the topmost ring of the city. The magma had stopped rising about halfway up, sparing the upper levels, but the noxious gasses it emitted made the mountain uninhabitable. The machinists toiled to open the upper dome, letting fresh air in as everyone climbed onto the cold rocks outside. The morning sun rose over the snow-covered peaks as those who remained gathered around the mouth of the mountain to offer prayers to the many who died that night.
Sawain surveyed the crowd of mourners as they each dropped a pebble into the fiery lake below. He estimated maybe a thousand dwarves had survived. Only a thousand, out of a vast civilization of tens, maybe hundreds of thousands in number before.
The old Forgemaster climbed onto Vaghn's shoulder and shouted for everyone's attention. Once enough people had fallen silent, he began to speak.
"Brothers and sist
ers of the Mountain, hearken to me now! I know many of you are hurting and confused. We have all lost loved ones to the dragon Malsivith and his devastation. Our king is gone and our city buried in molten magma."
A ripple of wails and complaints answered him. he waited a moment for it to die down before continuing.
"We all have the right to mourn, and time ye shall have for mourning. However! There is reason yet to offer thanks. Though our loved ones are gone, Malsivith can no longer bind their souls in slavery! They are free to depart for the lands beyond in peace. We have our friends from Alfhaven to thank for that! Sawain, the Swerdbrekker and his allies rescued us from our bondage when no one else could. He slew the dragon and freed us from his tyranny forever! All hail the Swerdbrekker! Slayer of Tyrants!"
A half-hearted chorus of cheers and claps echoed around the mountain as Sawain waved sheepishly. Galvas carried on his speech.
"And praise be to the mountain, who in her unique brand of mercy, ensured that the evil Grey King could never desecrate the bodies of our noble dead by adding them to his army of corpses. The mountain's fire has claimed our family and friends, returning them to the heart of the world where they shall forever rest."
Sawain noticed an increase in sniffles as he looked around. The Forgemaster's heartfelt words began touching the hearts of the crowd.
"Take comfort in knowing that your loved ones shall always be a part of us. A part of Caer Teallagh. Our city was brought low today, but we are the ones who shall build it back up. Our home is not lost, merely hidden, waiting to be recovered beneath the protective embrace of the mountain. Once the flames recede and the lake of fire returns to stone, we shall start digging once more. We will return to our mountain and feel her warm embrace again. But for now, we are given a choice. To the east, a giant sits upon a throne of corruption. He spreads his disease across the entire world, consuming everything like wildfire. We can stay here, hobbled against the rocks as we fight off the oncoming winter while we pray that he does not send his armies to finish us, or we can join the fight to reclaim Hammerhold from the dreaded Grey King once and for all."
A murmur of energy reverberated among the crowd. Even Sawain's crew seemed anxious, despite their injuries and fatigue.
"What say ye, lads? Will ye pledge yer swords and hammers to the Swerdbrekker's cause?"
Hundreds of shouts of affirmation greeted the call to arms. Sawain did not expect so many to readily join the fight without him even offering. He knew it would be unwise to decline their pledges. They all wanted to see Tharixos answer for his crimes. He strode to the lip of the mountain and held a fist high.
"I am the Swerdbrekker, Champion of Turin, Slayer of Dragons. I wish to add one last title to my name. Will you march with me into the Frostwylde and help me become Giantkiller?"
The response shook the mountain like thunder. Everyone stomped their feet, shouted, and chanted the name Swerbrekker. He let the commotion carry on until the crowd quieted on their own.
"When I left Alfhaven, I rode out of the forest with a handful of faithful friends. Some of which are no longer with us," His gaze flicked to the body of Jatharr, covered by a fur blanket. As his heart sank, he forced his eyes back out to the crowd.
"We called ourselves the Ghosts of Alfhaven. We moved silently, struck swift, and disappeared without a trace. To this very day, we have been fighting for Hammerhold's freedom. But now, on this hallowed mountain, I am making the call to disband the Ghosts of Alfhaven."
He heard a collective of gasps and angry questions from behind him. He held up a hand to silence them as he continued.
"As necessary as the Ghosts were, Hammerhold has outgrown a need for a small group of specialists. What it needs now is a strong force with a single common goal. Not from one Hold, but from everywhere. We need a Coalition who is dedicated to the greater good of the entire world. No more sneaking around. We will bring the fight straight to the Grey King’s door, our intent loud and clear. So now, I ask you, friends. Will you join Swerdbrekker's Coalition? Will you set aside prejudice and nationality that we might all live free? Will you answer the call when the threat is too large for any one city to handle? Will you become the heroes our land needs right now?"
The response boomed from the ground into the sky. Hundreds of dwarves rushed to shake his hand and pledge their loyalty to the newly formed Coalition. The ex-Ghosts watched as their ranks swelled. As the excitement died down and people drifted off to set up camps all over the mountainside, Kyra and the others approached Sawain. Banthan slugged him on the arm.
"Hey Dragonslayer, what was all that about disbanding the Ghosts? That's who we are, Sawain! You can't just go and throw that away!"
Kyra shrugged, her eyes flickering to the ground, "I don't know, I kinda like the decision. I was never really a Ghost to begin with. Always made me feel left out."
"Aww, C'mon, Kyra," Naralei started as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "You've been a Ghost in my eyes since day one. We all know you've proven your mettle time and time again. I mean, I might not even be here if not for you."
"But that's the whole point, guys," Sawain interjected, "Kyra is as capable as any of us, even if she was not a part of the original group. Even if we didn't mean to, we alienated her and any other allies that traveled with us in our quest. I want to give our army a name everyone can get behind."
"Well, why does it have to be your name," Banthan complained, "Seems a bit egocentric if you ask me."
The Swerdbrekker shrugged, "Alright, well what do you recommend? And don't you dare say Banthan's Brigade."
"It's a great name and you know it!"
Naralei rubbed her nose a moment as she contemplated. As Sawain and Banthan bickered, she had an idea.
"What about... The Stagwarden Coalition?"
Everyone stopped speaking as the name rang out into their ears. It sounded so natural, so right. Sawain gawked at her.
"Where did that come from?"
"Well," she blushed, "When Aerabis had me captive, I learned a lot about him. He always told this story about a magical shining stag. It was always the greatest object of desire to many famous hunters. He always referred to you as his shining stag. Hammerhold is our shining stag, and instead of hunting it, we want to protect it. Therefore, the Stagwardens."
Sawain crossed his arms as a smile crawled across his face. Everyone nodded in silent agreement. He glanced around and nodded back to Naralei.
"Well, it does have a good ring to it. Alright, then, the Stagwarden Coalition it is. I'm sure everyone will get behind it just as quickly. Now listen, everyone. We have much preparation ahead of us. The Grey King's Citadel is not far from here."
"That may be so, but you are needed elsewhere right now, dear Swerdbrekker."
Everyone jumped as a purple skinned woman dressed in black robes appeared without warning among them. Sawain choked back his surprise as he spoke.
"Sibilach! Good to see you too. What do you mean we are needed elsewhere?"
The woman cackled, "Not we, but you! You are needed in Anvilheim right now! Your friends are in grave danger. They have managed to raise defenses and have kept the tide of death outside the city walls, but the Grey King's forces are slowly overwhelming them. If aid does not arrive swiftly, there will be nothing left of Anvilheim. You must ride south and deliver aid unto them! Without Anvilheim's support, your assault on the Grey King is doomed to fail!"
Silence deafened Sawain as he stared at Sibilach in stunned confusion. The reality that Anvilheim could ever fall had never crossed his mind, yet he just bore witness to the destruction of a mountain fortress from the inside out. He nodded more to himself than to her.
"Alright, change of plans, everyone. We ride for Anvilheim first thing in the morning."
Kyra jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, "What, you don't want to leave now?"
He looked out over the tired, soot covered f
aces of his comrades. He knew they deserved a good night's sleep, and besides, he was curious what kind of desperate nightmare the Grey King would throw at him tonight.
"No. I don't know about you lot, but I could use a nap."
Everyone laughed. For the first time since they left Alfhaven, he and all his friends shared a good round of chuckles. It was fleeting, but for a moment, it gave the illusion that they were normal teenagers on a peaceful morning with not a care in the world. That moment faded as Sawain locked eyes on Kyra.
"I have a special mission for you. Think you can work a little more magic before your well deserved rest?"
She raised an eyebrow, "What did you have in mind?"
"I need you to send a message to some friends of mine."
She nodded, "Sure, just tell me who you want to send it to and what you want it to say?"
He pondered his message a moment before speaking again.
"I want you to send it to Tirinelle of Rowan Circle in Alfhaven, the Mayor of Underfell Town, and Segrammir Geldhart in Jordborg. Tell them this: The final moments of the war are drawing near. On behalf of Sawain, the Swerdbrekker, ride to Anvilheim and help us as we prepare to take the fight to the Grey King and reclaim our home."
Kyra nodded slowly, "Okay got it. I don't doubt that Vaskar will answer your call. He owes you, after all. But the elves? Really? I mean you're the boss, but they've never in hundreds of years sent a full scale army outside of their own forest."
"She's not too far off the mark." Naralei muttered.
Timbrell hopped up and down, "Aye, but by now, how do we know Alfhaven hasn't been destroyed? Or Jordborg recaptured for that matter? The Grey King is everywhere!"
Sawain shook his head, "He's not everywhere. And though they may be battered, the elves of Alfhaven are not broken. They'll come, you'll see. Just send the message."
Kyra nodded, "Alright, I'm on it."
Magina emerged from behind a boulder nearby, Violet riding on her shoulders, "Sorry to eavesdrop, but I didn't want to interrupt during your stirring performance."
