Dream of Dragons

by Alex Alcasid

The warm gust of air did not accompany dragonfire. It was a comforting and strong breeze that blew Loren forward a few paces, and stopped Seraphis in her tracks. The air steadily blew out Haedria’s magic flames. The inherent magic contained within the dragon’s breath blew away the burned mage markings on both girls, the swirling marks moving across their skin like wood shavings blown off a carpenter’s work.

  Seraphis took a step backwards from the force of the dragon’s breath. Then another. She lost her balance on the third, and fell on her back onto the ash-caked stones. She shuddered once, finally freed of the markings that had been burned into her skin for the longest time, and fell unconscious with a sigh. The sword she held clattered out of her hand, melted to the hilt and useless.

  “No!” Haedria screamed. The queen reeled back from the dragon’s breath, the sheer force of the wind whipping back her blood red hair and staggering her. The glow of flames faded from the queen’s own mage markings, the swirling patterns turning dark and still. Haedria clamped her hands over her arms, crossing them over her chest and shivering from a slight breeze. “My sister! My magic! What have you done?” the queen’s eyes were wide, manic. Her once cocky grin had become a feral snarl.

  The dragon’s breath ended with a soft breeze that made the unconscious Seraphis’s mouth twitch into a comforted smile. Loren saw the other princess’s head fall to the side as if asleep, and had a feeling that it was the first time in a long time she felt anything other than burning heat. Haedria, however, howled in pain. The queen shook violently, shivering in the gentle breeze as if she was caught in a blizzard within the northern lands.

  “How dare you? How dare you do this to me? To me! I am the queen of Sagna, you worm!” Haedria screamed. Her mage markings struggled in the wake of the dragon’s breath, trying to keep a glow like a flame that refused to catch.

  Loren, stunned, looked down at her own hands. Where Haedria’s markings used to be burned into her skin, raised and tender, now there was nothing. Her skin was clear, healthy, as if never touched by Haedria’s magic. She glanced back at the blue and gold dragon, and understood. The magic of the dragons was one of life; Lind had healed her. He had healed Seraphis, breaking the warrior princess free of her cruel sister’s hold. Loren began to smile, when the queen howled in insult again.

  The blood red queen was on her in a flash. In her hand was a dagger with a black blade, carved from a solid chunk of ebonstone. The dark stone glittered menacingly in the light of the braziers as Haedria spun it in her hand, adjusting her grip, and lunged for the princess. The mage markings flickered slowly, haltingly to life, sending a pulse of heat radiating from the queen that dried the very air in Loren’s throat. The markings on the queen’s left hand began to glow fiercely, flames emerging from within the markings and moving fluidly, gathering in Haedria’s palm before forming a twisting, burning whip. The tip sparked against the stone floor, melting gouges into the rock wherever they touched.

  Loren took another step back. The princess glanced up at Lind, who stared passively back at her. She knew he would only help so much, and with the dragon pendant destroyed there was no way to order the dragon to move. Down the hall, far behind Haedria, a crowd was surging towards the entrance of the Keep. The soldiers were moving to evacuate; Kae had carried out Loren’s wishes. Perhaps the princess’s last wishes.

  Haedria stood in the way. With the queen angered, the lives of everyone were in danger. There was only Loren who stood to challenge her.

  The queen of Sagna raised her flame whip, cracking it in the air. The whip left a burning after image as it sailed through the air, and produced embers and sparks as it cracked. The queen advanced, and pulled her arm back. With a swift movement she brought the whip forward, the tip barbed with tiny hooks. Loren raised her arm to shield herself, catching the whip at full force. The burning lash coiled around her arm, the hooks digging into her flesh and the magic setting her prisoner’s garb alight.

  Loren did not scream. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the whip with both hands, holding her ground even as Haedria tried to force her forwards. The whip burned into her skin, searing her flesh, but the princess did not cry out. Tears of pain streamed from her golden eyes, but she did not cry out. Instead, the princess ran at the queen, her arm still bound by the flaming whip.

  Screaming in anger, Haedria raised her ebonstone dagger.

  Out of instinct or desperation, a roar bubbled up within the princess. She ran at the queen, unarmed, outmatched, but with the will to protect more than her kingdom. She fought to protect those she loved. She screamed a war cry — a challenge that echoed across generations.

  The dragon smiled.

  A burst of golden flame issued from the princess’s mouth with that war cry, growing in intensity and size, easily enveloping the rampant queen. The force of the flame staggered the queen, dragonfire overpowering the prophesied Fourth Daughter. Haedria’s form was enveloped in the golden fire, cutting short her charge. The dragon magic extinguished the flames that touched Loren, and fizzled the flaming whip out of existence.

  The queen of Sagna’s body fell to the ash covered stones of her castle with a soft thud. Her skin was burned black along the side of her face and down her arms; her material of her fine gown torched and melting onto her body. Tongues of golden flame flicked and swayed in the cool night air from where they burned in the queen’s blood red hair.

  Loren fell to her knees, stunned.

  All her energy had left her in that one cry, that one burst of dragonfire. The Witch of Flame’s body lay on the ground before her and she couldn’t believe her eyes. She did not hear Lind move or rumble, he did not roar. The dragonfire had come from her. A human. A non-magical human. Gingerly and with shaking hands, the princess touched the hollow of her neck, and found the pendant gone. A shadow passed over her, and she looked up.

  The dragon’s golden eye shimmered in the light, and Loren began to fall. The princess felt like falling, falling weightlessly and effortlessly, getting lost in the golden light of Lind’s eye. She heard a voice, one that was strong yet gentle, wise far beyond its years. She heard its words, though it made no sound.

  Loren Elisis Cyrael, Princess of Aldoran.

  What you have done is a noble act. You have attempted to protect those close to you, those in your charge, with valor and bravery. Few can accomplish such in their lifetime.

  The High Dragon of legend did not bestow magic onto your ancestor, Ylfair Mariorr, simply because she defeated monsters with her bare hands. No, the High Dragon bestowed magic and her son to your ancestor because she showed extraordinary bravery in the face of insurmountable odds. All to protect those she loved. The stories passed down by your family have omitted the reason why Ylfair Mariorr accepted the challenge of the Ebonstone Castle. Monsters attacked her village, plaguing the fields and murdering her countrymen. Her own family was a victim; her family was in danger.

  As were yours.

  “Loren?”

  The princess did not stir.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “Loren! Loren, please, please wake up.” A voice said, strained, choked with emotion. The princess felt someone shaking her by the shoulders, and a hand caressing her face. A drop of liquid, warm on her cool skin, fell on Loren’s cheek. The princess twitched. “Loren, please wake up. I can’t lose you, not after everything. I wasn’t able to tell you that I…” the voice faded into a sob.

  The activity that followed within the castle was chaotic. The Warmaster and Spymaster, both bearing wounds from their battles, refused to take a rest. The two men organized the evacuation of the Aldoran troops, having the men file out of the Firestone Keep as fast as they could. Soldiers in blackened armor, bloodied, limping, some supporting their comrades as they struggled to walk, slowly made their way out of the keep. They kept a wide, respectful berth of the two young women in the middle of the hallway.

  Kae knelt with Loren in her lap, caressing the princess’s cheek and begging her to wake up. For all the things she h
ad said, the princess did not seem to hear. The huntress’s voice petered out into sobs and desperate whispers, her chest heaving with every staggered breath. Ma’trii passed her by, limping, the fur around his face and neck bloodied, and eyed his best friend pitifully. He would offer comfort in a while, but for now, Kae needed Loren.

  Minutes passed by in a blur. The sound of the soldier’s shuffling feet drummed in a rhythm Kae didn’t care to hear. There was the scent of blood on the warm, humid air of the Keep. The huntress clutched Loren tightly, clinging to the scent of something more familiar in the midst of death and destruction.

  “Excuse me.” A soft voice said. It was sheepish, almost afraid. Kae looked up and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. It left a streak of ash across her face. Standing just before her was the bronze-skinned slave girl from before, the one who sat obediently at the feet of the queen like a dog. She no longer wore a heavy leather collar. “My love said to give.” Elysia said, holding out her hand. She held a small glass vial, streaked with dust but unharmed. Within it swam a murky liquid.

  “What? Who?” Kae muttered. She reached up and took the vial, slipping it into the pocket of her trousers.

  “Seraphis.” Elysia said with a small smile. “My Seraphis told me to give it to you, she says it is the antidote to basilisk.” The slave girl wrung her hands. “She cannot meet you, she is wounded. She bid me to tell you to leave.”

  “Leave?”

  Elysia nodded gravely. She spoke with a heavy accent that implied she had a different mother tongue, one spoken freely in the Eastern Shores. The words tumbled from her mouth awkwardly, but her tone was serious. “The queen is dead. Sagna is dead. These are her words.” The slave girl glanced behind her, as if expecting someone to come. “Please, leave. While it is safe. My Seraphis gives you thanks.”

  “But what about you? What will happen to you, now that Haedria…” Kae trailed off. Her eyes fell to a charred body on the floor. Its skin was blackened and bubbled, with wisps of blood red hair still smoldering. The Witch of Fire was finally burned.

  Elysia followed Kae’s gaze then hastily looked away. The slave girl shut her eyes tight. “My Seraphis is with me. This is all I know, and it is all I need. But your woman, she is hurt.” Elysia knelt before Kae and the princess in her arms, folding her hands on her lap graciously.

  “Will she wake?” Kae’s voice was a choked whisper. “Please, do you know if she will?”

  “I do not know of magic. Of fire and swords, I know plenty; the queen made sure I knew. Heavy hands and burning whips.” Elysia said. She lay her hand against Loren’s brow. “I trained with the healer in my village, but there is much I do not know. I see no wounds on this princess’s body, but I know wounds can be inside.”

  “Inside? Like broken bones?”

  Elysia paused, thinking. “Yes, and no. The healer once spoke of wounds in the soul, and in the mind. I have seen it in the warriors who have defended our village from raiders. They return with scars from battle on their skin, but their eyes are hollow. They walk like dead men through the streets, they stare at their own hands as if they see blood. So the healer has said that their wounds are not ones that are seen. There are ways to heal these wounds, but I do not know. I was taken to the Red Sisters, and my village was burned.”

  Kae hung her head. She remembered Hamilcar, the large bandit king who captured them in the first place. There was dried blood on the blade of his axe. Kae wondered how many of Elysia’s people contributed to that stain. “I’m sorry about your village.”

  “Nothing can be done now.” Elysia said patiently. “We look to the future. My Seraphis gives me hope for this; she used to whisper of what she would do if she were queen, how Sagna could be free and prosper.” The slave girl sighed wistfully, her mind full of thoughts of Seraphis. She stroked Loren’s face almost lovingly, with unfocused eyes and a dazed smile. Kae’s brow furrowed in concern as she watched, but the slave girl’s intentions were good and harmless. Still, the huntress held Loren a fraction closer to her.

  All around them, soldiers marched and limped. The loud boom of Warmaster Sairus’s voice ran out over the din, telling the soldiers to hurry. The panther Beastman drew closer to where Kae and Loren were, and what the huntress saw made her heart hammer. The short, dark fur around Sairus’s neck was standing and bristled. His ears twisted this way and that, struggling to catch all the sounds in the area. After a few seconds, Warmaster Sairus looked back towards the direction of the throne room. He stood ramrod straight, his pupils wide, his ears forward. The Beastman’s every muscle was tense.

  To Kae, they were signs of an animal sensing danger.

  “Elysia?” Kae said slowly, not taking her eyes off of the Warmaster. “What is beyond the throne room?”

  “Beyond the throne room is the queen’s garden, library, quarters, armory and treasury…” Elysia rattled off.

  “And beyond that?”

  “There is nothing beyond that. The castle ends, it is all mountain.”

  “Are you sure? It’s all just rock from there?”

  “Ah.” Elysia paused. “There are firestone mines, I think, and tunnels into the mountain where blacksmiths can forge weapons for the castle. They call the mountain Mount Volknar, and harvest its flames in the form of firestone.”

  “There are tunnels that lead down into the fires of the mountain.” Kae mused. Warmaster Sairus’s hackles only seemed to stand up straighter as she watched. Then Kae’s gaze went to Haedria’s body again.

  Haedria was twitching.

  A badly burned hand was moving back and forth with sudden, jerking movements. A charred finger rested on the stone of the Keep, drawing something in the ash. At first it looked like nothing, just random movements from someone struggling to cling to life. But there was a pattern to the movements. They were deliberate and careful, with a pause every so often before moving onto the next.

  “Runes.” Kae breathed, her eyes going wide. “Warmaster!”

  Sairus’s head whipped towards the huntress. His expression was tense and his eyes narrowed when he saw Loren in her arms, unconscious.

  “Warmaster, the queen is not dead!” Kae called. “We have to leave!”

  “I saw the dragonfire, she is surely dead.” Sairus began to turn away. “I have more pressing concerns.”

  “Something is happening to the mountain! Haedria is causing it!” Kae said, even more forceful than before. “You know there is danger, it’s the mountain!”

  Warmaster Sairus turned to Kae again. He was about to lift his foot to move, when a tremor suddenly moved through the castle. The Firestone Keep shook violently, the stones creaking and debris dislodging from the walls. A terrible sound ripped through the air, a groan as if the mountain itself cried out.

  “We need to leave! Now!” Warmaster Sairus roared, turning to the nearest limping soldier and pulling his arm around his own soldier. “Girl! Can you carry the princess away? Put her on the dragon, he will know what to do.”

  Kae nodded quickly, the panic rising in her heart. She struggled to stand and lift Loren along with her, but found herself too weak to carry the princess alone. She turned to Elysia to ask for aid, but the slave girl had turned pale. The Firestone Keep rumbled and shook violently under their feet, forcing them to frantically adjust their footing just to keep standing. Elysia’s mouth opened and closed in a shocked stammer as she threw her arms out to keep balance.

  “Elysia?”

  “Seraphis!” She screamed suddenly. “My Seraphis!” the slave girl suddenly bolted, running deeper into the Keep even as debris fell from the ceiling, crashing into the pillars and threatening to block the hallway.

  “Elysia, no! You have to leave! You’ll die here!” Kae called out, but it was too late. The slave girl had run too far in to hear.

  By the main gates of the Keep, the dragon roared. But even the sound of Lind’s mighty call was not enough to be heard over the crashing of the mountain. Mount Volknar shook even more violently than befo
re, bring huge rocks tumbling down from the ceiling. Kae struggled to lift the princess, and tried to scream for help above the noise.

  The dragon roared again, and muscled in through the Keep’s entrance. Lind stood before Kae, crouching and angling one wing down to the floor. Kae nodded, and began to haul the princess up onto the dragon’s back, using Lind’s forearm and shoulder to boost herself and the princess up on the shimmering blue scales. Lind turned his head back and pushed Kae and Loren gently towards the center of his back before turning away and walking towards the drawbridge of the Firestone Keep and the town at the foot of the mountain.

  Left alone, surrounded by the destruction of her own castle, Queen Haedria Dagan managed a weak chuckle. She lay among the stones and dust, the ashes of her men and of her legacy, and grinned.

  The rumbling of the mountain stopped for several, merciful seconds. Then a blast of super-heated air burst through the heart of the mountain, exploding and expanding upwards through the mines of the Firestone Keep, snaking through the tunnels and bursting through the heavy ancient doors that connected them to the Keep proper. Bubbling, roiling magma soon followed, flowing up through the mines and its tunnels, melting and consuming the tools and supports left within the caves. The magma flowed steadily into the keep, bursting through the doors in a wave. The treasury and armory were quickly consumed, followed by various living quarters going up in flames. The queen’s chambers, her private bath, her study and library were destroyed utterly. Then the liquid fire rolled towards the throne room.

  The wrath of Mount Volknar was all consuming. Those who did not die from the blast of scalding, burning air, were quickly overtaken by the flow of lava. The sheer heat of it melted the stone of the Keep, heating it within seconds and consuming the rock in a growing the wave of lava. The sound of it was immense, shaking the very stone of the keep with the noise. It roared and bubbled, picking up speed with every inch of its passing. The lava flow easily took over the firestone throne, spilling over the dais and around the firestone pillars. All the firestone it passed and consumed exploded fiercely, sending globs of melted rock flying in all directions. The fiery glow of the lava crept up the hallway.