by A. Evermore
Where is Asaph? She thought desperately trying to control the terror of being trapped. She tried to think, there has to be a way out! She closed her eyes not wanting to see the hideous beast above her but its rancid breath made her retch, made her woefully aware of its presence. She tried to find some weakness in the magical rope that bound her but there were none and her magic seemed useless against it, her mind too weak to command it.
She closed her eyes to see the Flow more clearly and there, bigger than a horse, stood an image of a raven. This raven was made of moving magical energy; purple, indigo and silver hues. It looked at her. Issa blinked in surprise and stared back up at the beast. A bolt of understanding shot through her and she wondered why she had never thought of it before.
‘Raven!’ she gasped, asking the Flow rather than commanding it.
She felt her form shifting and the bonds restraining her changing body could hold her no longer. She cawed, beat her wings down and lifted swiftly into the sky. The beast howled in blood curdling rage as it leapt to catch her, but its frothing mouth snapped shut on empty air. Her wings were bleeding just as her human arms had been. The change had taken her to the very edge of her reserves and her consciousness wavered but at least she was free.
She glanced back towards the village. The battle had taken her a long way away. In her brief glimpse it seemed the karalanths were finally overcoming the enemy, but amongst the black and twisted bodies of Death Hounds lay many bodies of fallen karalanths. Zanufey will come for you, brothers and sisters, she said silently but had no time to spare for mourning.
She turned in the air. The sun was sinking in the west turning the sky blood red. She looked down at the beast staring up at her. Her blood fell in drops of red rain around it, splattering on its fur, on its muzzle that he licked hungrily. She had to finish this, she could not let it live. She calmed her exhausted mind, flew in a high arc and then dropped like a stone from the sky towards it.
In the last instance she let what she could still hold of the Flow fill her. The beast reared up to meet her like monster rising up from the depths of oblivion. Still as a raven she released the last of her magic and engulfed them both in indigo fire. In the same moment she released her raven form and drove her blade through the Life Seekers open jaws embedding it through its throat deep into its skull.
The indigo fire receded leaving behind it the smell of burning flesh that was not her own. Together they fell to the floor, her hand stuck still holding her knife in the beast’s throat. She struggled to keep herself on top of it as they fell, trying to avoid being crushed by its weight. It lay still, did not even twitch, as she lay dazed beside it. She could not free her arm, had not the strength to try, and stayed on her back in the gore, utterly spent.
Her mind was burnt, drained into negative. She could not think clearly, as if the neural pathways of her thoughts had been disrupted and confused by overuse of magic. She tried to think of where she was but could not even remember that.
I’ve used too much, my mind and body were not ready. How close have I come to destroying myself? Freydel warned me to never use too much too soon. A dark shadow blotted out the orange light of the setting sun. It was so big she thought night had suddenly come. She blinked up and her heart lurched weakly in her chest.
‘No, it cannot be,’ she shivered in horror, refusing to believe what her eyes were telling her, that there was a huge dragon, black as midnight, eyes the colour of burning coals, circling above her. Her blood ran cold and her bladder emptied itself. She could not run, she was trapped by her arm stuck in the stinking Life Seeker. Even if she could run she wouldn’t be able to for the dragon fear had her frozen and trembling. She closed her eyes but the Dread Dragon came even there, red eyes burning into her soul.
Dromoorai, the hated name of those that had destroyed her entire world and all she loved, murdered her mother and all her friends, took away her beloved home, drifted up from her subconscious. The Flow drained away from her weak grasp as the Dromoorai began to weave a spell. She shivered uncontrollably and cold sweat rolled off her face and body. I cannot fight this. I should have known the Life Seeker was not alone!
The rider upon its back touched her mind and she shrank from it. She knew she could not fight it. She heard the cries of terror from the karalanths somewhere beyond the great hulking mass of the dead Life Seeker as the dragon fear engulfed them too. I cannot help them, nothing can. They had no hope, not now, they were too few, too exhausted.
Her eyes were forced open and drawn to the Dromoorai now hovering very close. Its pupil-less eyes glowed dark green within its black, three-pointed helmet. Armour made of black dark dwarven metal encased it in an impenetrable shell. Her eyes were drawn down to the burning red amulet upon its chest. She forced them shut against the thing that was trying to get inside her mind. Black clouds filled her head and her consciousness flickered out.
Chapter 44
Asaph's Dark Brethren
ASAPH was lost deep in his thoughts as he drifted in the near airless part of the atmosphere. He was surrounded by blue that changed from light below him to dark above him. The world far below was a distant hazy land of smudged blues, greys and greens that he barely noticed. He did not need to think about flying, drifting was easy up here and his wings seemed to instinctively know what to do. Up here the air currents were much more stable, flowing in predictable and unchanging directions. He wondered if this is what the dragons of old liked to do before Baelthrom came.
Something important tugged at his consciousness, something he had forgotten about but shouldn’t have. He pushed it away angrily. He needed to think, to plan, to find answers. That he must tell Coronos about Vornus was obvious, though he really didn’t want to tell his father about the betrayal of someone he trusted. Telling him would change nothing, however, for the past could not be changed, the dead could not be brought back, and all that mattered is what they did now.
We should raise an army. But how could they do any better than the Feylint Halanoi who had been fighting against the Maphraxies for hundreds of years? Asaph thought on this for a while.
Things have never been in our favour but now, perhaps, the tide is turning. There are many things on our side; the dark moon of Zanufey rising, Issa, the death of Keteth, the last Dragon Lord and heir to the throne of Drax returning. I could find the hidden dragons. All these things are on our side!
They could join the Feylint Halanoi and rally a greater army than they ever had before. Unite the whole of Maioria in one massive assault upon Drax and push the enemy out. Then after Drax why not Intolana? Maybe the elves would return then.
We’ll scour the world to bring us the numbers we need to fight them. They had the karalanths on their side already. The Kuapoh would come, they had promised they would should he or Coronos have need. They at least had the intelligence and foresight to see the Maphraxie threat affected the whole of Maioria, not just the Known World. There were at least eight more tribes. They will build boats and they will come, of course they will. Keteth is gone, the seas are ours once more.
A ring of silver surrounded by flames suddenly flared before him in the Flow. The flame ring, he recognised it instantly. There came an echoing scream, that cut through his thoughts like a knife. The world stopped turning and time stood still.
Issa!
The flame ring was calling to him. In a panic he almost changed back into his human form and for a moment he plummeted through the sky. He struggled to regain his senses and control of his wings. Why did I ever leave her? I am an idiot as always, especially when danger always seems so near!
He drew his wings together and shot through the sky, a massive golden arrow falling to the earth. The world was a blur of blue and green and the air became rich and thick. He drew his wings closer, half flew half fell even faster. The wind was a howling banshee in his ears as it screamed past. He was sure the slightest incorrect twitch of his wings would rip a hole in them at this terrible speed but he didn’t care.
The great forests of Frayon came into view, he opened his wings a little more and took a less vertical angle. An explosion of magic flared above the trees in the distance and the air crackled, his wings shuddered from the force. That was not Issa’s magic, this magic carried the feel of something dark and corrupt and it did not come from within the Flow.
Immortal magic, the Under Flow. The thought made his reptilian blood run colder. By Feygriene’s fire, not magic wielders too! But there was nothing he could do about it. Issa, wait for me, hold on! He was nearing now and suddenly sensed the presence of another dragon. He slowed in surprise.
Brother? Sister? He reached out with his mind but recoiled when he touched the dead mind of his brethren, touched the mind of a Dread Dragon. He could not understand that mind, it was dark, alien, instilled with a life of a different kind, or maybe the absence of life. He doubted even if the Dread Dragon had sensed his greeting.
Attached to it was another mind, like a conjoined twin. Dromoorai, he shuddered, dared not even try to reach that mind. It was impossible to believe they had been Dragon Lords once, one good and powerful being separated into two evil immortal ones.
Asaph spotted the huge long snaking black shape of the Dread Dragon in the distance just above the tree-line. Utter hatred for the thing that had once been a Dragon Lord made his belly rumble with the beginnings of fire. The Dromoorai was facing him as he closed in but was so intent upon its prey on the ground that it did not notice. He glimpsed a small pale shape trapped and unmoving beside the huge dark body of a Life Seeker.
‘Issa!’ he growled aloud. He was not afraid, he was furious.
The Dread Dragon dropped low, the gusting air from its huge flapping wings billowed the trees violently around it as it reached out massive claws to grasp her. Asaph roared in rage as he hurtled towards that fast approaching black shape.
The Dromoorai’s helmeted head whipped up just as a fountain of yellow flame spewed forth from Asaph’s mouth and engulfed it. The Dromoorai yanked hard on the reins, hauling the Dread Dragon upwards. Fire flickered all over the Dromoorai and Dread Dragon as it took a hard steep angle up to extinguish the flames in the rushing air.
Asaph did not even pause and followed it skyward, releasing another torrent of hotter whiter flames. The gap between them closed and careless of his own fire, Asaph struck with full force into the underside of the Dread Dragon, his golden claws slicing into black-scaled legs and torso. The Dread Dragon’s scales were the colour of oil, greenish-black shot through with a metallic sheen and tough as steel.
The Dread Dragon could not fly with the weight of Asaph clinging to him and together they spun in the air, golden dragon entwined with black in a deadly embrace. Down they tumbled clawing and gnashing, each trying to find the other’s throat as the Dromoorai struggled to stay mounted upon his spinning writhing dragon. They smashed through the trees snapping them like matchsticks and hit the ground making it shudder. The force of impact tore them apart. A splintered pine pierced the Dread Dragons wing and black blood splashed around them.
Asaph rolled onto his feet and stood dazed and panting smoke. He glared at the equally disorientated Dread Dragon. The Dromoorai rider had managed to remain on its back unscathed. The sun had gone completely now. Asaph could feel his cold reptilian blood slow with the loss of the sun’s heat but the fire within his belly and the hatred of this beast fuelled his strength. The sky was turning darker by the minute as the red sunlight faded.
The two dragons faced each other amidst the debris of smashed trees and great gullies of raked earth. The Dread Dragon flicked its bleeding wing at Asaph, spraying him with black blood. Its wing was torn but not enough to stop it flying. Asaph shook off the immortal blood in in disgust.
He regarded his foe, this thing, this abomination of nature. A Dromoorai and its Dread Dragon, two deadly enemies created by Baelthrom from one. Dragon Lords were filled with life, had both the dragon and the human essence in one form. Enough life to make two, he thought in repulsion. I cannot even imagine what it would be like to be severed from my dragon-self or my human-self. The very thought sent chills through his body. Only Baelthrom could think up such a sick thing! Despite his disgust of the Dromoorai before him a small part of his dragon mind felt great sorrow for he fought something that was once a fellow Dragon Lord.
‘I shall put your soul to rest, brother,’ Asaph said in a voice low and rumbling like thunder, ‘whatever is left of it.’ Maybe there was nothing to be saved or set free within this Dread Dragon or its Dromoorai rider. If there was, he could not feel it.
The Dread Dragon narrowed its eyes and they turned the darkest smouldering red. Asaph saw its huge muscles bunch and got ready for its attack. It lunged first, black claws digging deep into the earth that flew into the air as it came for him. Asaph stayed his ground, the claws on his hind legs splayed and digging deep for grip. The Dread Dragon ploughed into him, trying to topple him over, but he stayed grounded and instead was shunted backwards.
It took all his might to sink his golden claws through those scales that were as tough as metal. He hugged the Dread Dragon close to prevent its snaking head from finding his throat, but that brought him close to the Dromoorai on its back. The man-beast raised his huge black iron claymore and thrust it down. Asaph expected it to clang off his own thick scales but instead searing pain exploded in his back. The blade was enchanted with black magic, Baelthrom’s immortal magic.
He opened his mouth and bellowed yellow fire through his mouth and nostrils onto the Dromoorai, emptying all that he had until the yellow flames became red and then smoke. He felt the blade pull free and blood trickle down his side. The enchantment stung more than the wound made by the blade. The wound was not deep but the stinging pain enraged him more.
The Dread Dragon sprayed dark red fire down his back. Asaph could smell his own resilient flesh begin to char in the unholy flames long before he felt the pain. Dragons retained some immunity to fire but eventually it would kill them too, though they could not be set alight.
Asaph released his grip and pulled away from the flames. He struck swiftly again, just as the Dread Dragon stopped bellowing so that it did not see him coming through its fire. He went straight for the neck and this time his teeth found what he was looking for. His jaws closed around the beast’s throat just below its jaw bone in a crushing vice.
Asaph twisted as he lunged, throwing the surprised Dromoorai from the Dread Dragon’s back, as he had intended. With a whip of his tail he flung the Dromoorai back into the trees. He could not easily fight them both at once. The Dread Dragon writhed furiously in Asaph’s death grip, lifting him bodily off the floor and then smacking him back down. Asaph did not let go.
Black claws pierced his shoulders and belly as he pushed the Dread Dragon beneath him, trying to hold the bigger dragon down with all his weight. A black tail whipped up and smashed him on the head. The three horns upon it were sharp enough to pierce his scales and blood trickled down his forehead and into his eyes.
Asaph bit harder, through the smaller scales of the neck and down into softer flesh and sinew. He bit so hard he thought his teeth would break. Cold syrupy blood filled his mouth making him gag and choke. He closed his throat so as not to swallow any, knowing that many feared drinking the blood of the immortals was akin to drinking a drop of the Black Drink. His teeth finally met bone and could go no further. Dragon bones were harder than rock and impossible to break. The Dread Dragon jerked and writhed violently before crumpling under Asaph’s crushing weight.
He held the still Dread Dragon for a moment more, staring into the dimming red
eyes, wondering if, hoping that, something found release. Slowly, tenderly almost, he released the Dread Dragon’s throat, letting it flop to lie still on the ground. It had once been his brother or sister, one he would never know.
What have they done to you, to us all?
Asaph heard the sliding sound of a sword being drawn close behind and whirled to face the Dromoorai. The man-beast was huge, twice the size of a human, though still dwarfed by the golden dragon. Asaph lifted away from that massive swinging claymore, swung as if it were as light as balsa wood. The wound on his back was already festering from that blade and he didn’t want another one to add to it.
The Dromoorai came on as Asaph considered his fearless unreadable foe. It seemed to be made of solid armour, from its black metal boots to its gauntlets, even its three-pointed helmet seemed to be part of its face. Asaph snaked to the left, his blue eyes never leaving the Dromoorai’s that changed from dark green to red, red to match the swinging amulet that now glowed upon its chest. He tried not to look at that amulet, his soul screamed at him not to, but then it flashed and forced his eyes to look at it again.
In the Flow he could see a red line stretching from that amulet, through the Dromoorai and back beyond it. It links to others, maybe even to Baelthrom. The thought made his legs go weak. If I focus on its eyes, maybe I can avoid looking at the amulet. It only half worked, but it was better than nothing. At least this way the amulet did not have such a mesmerising power over him. Asaph stepped backwards and to the left, circling the Dromoorai.
The Dromoorai’s long black cloak billowed behind as it advanced without fear, completely impervious to the dragon fear Asaph exuded. Even without its Dread Dragon the karalanths had said a Dromoorai was notoriously difficult to kill. It lunged with lightning speed, the black claymore rose and fell. Asaph drew back at the last second and spewed white-hot flames onto it, turning the sword into a shard of red hot metal. It crackled and buckled and weakened in the intense heat but the Dromoorai seemed immune to his fire, and the burning sword in its hand, and pressed forwards.
