by Nathan Roden
“We have to at least have a look,” Boone said. “Come on.”
They rode to the front of the formation.
“Lord Lamont,” Boone said. “Someone has lit the beacon atop the mountain.”
Lamont shielded his eyes and scanned the sky.
“Have you seen Simon?”
“Not for a while. We’re going up to take a closer look.”
Lamont looked ahead.
“I wish I had a way to signal Sir Edmund.”
“It may mean nothing,” Boone said. “The tower may have been hit by lightning.”
Lamont scowled.
“Or it could be a trap to draw Simon’s friends.”
“We’ll be careful, My Lord. We won’t be taking any foolish chances.”
Boone, Helena, and Ben rode toward the mountain. The elevation on the south face of the mountain was much higher than that of the north side, cutting the distance to the summit in half. But there were no roads or paths. They were forced to leave their horses at the base of the mountain.
****
Simon felt the heat pass the side of his head. The blast of white light exploded in front of his eyes. For a few seconds, his vision and hearing were gone. Dathien had moved across the clearing and Simon had yet to locate him. He flew straight up, rolled onto his back, and propelled himself to the east. Two more blasts missed him. Beneath the sounds of the attack and the sounds of rain and thunder, Simon heard Dathien’s laughter mixed with his curses.
Simon saw a blast leave Dathien’s hand and fly just above the ground. In a flash of lightning, Simon watched Caleb running toward the woods. Caleb slipped and fell. Another of Dathien’s blasts flew past the boy’s head.
Simon swore. He shook with anger. He flew toward Caleb and hit the ground hard at the boy’s side.
“Grab my leg!”
Another blast caromed off of Simon’s side. Pain flooded his body, but Simon refused to fall before he moved Caleb to safety. Simon drove himself into the air with Caleb clinging to his front leg. At the forest’s edge, Simon flew as low as he could.
“Let go, Caleb!”
Caleb hit the ground and rolled in the mud. He tried to get to his feet, but the mud was too slick. He crawled into the brush on all fours.
A hundred yards away, the sentries assigned to guard the cave escaped into the woods. They had been asleep in the cave when Dathien arrived, which had probably saved their lives. But if the giant did check the cave, the men would have had nowhere to hide. They decided their best chance at survival was to use the woods to descend the mountain.
They made it to the tree-line unnoticed. They barely slowed as they crashed through the trees. They had no time to slow down before they crashed into the backs of two men directly in their paths.
All four men cried out as they rolled across the forest floor. One of the guards jumped to his feet and retrieved his sword. He leveled it at the unarmed man who breathed hard as he pushed himself to his feet.
The other two men wrestled on the ground, neither of them showing a weapon.
The man with the sword looked Boone Blankenship in the eyes.
“Tell your friend to stop or I’ll drive my sword through his back.”
“Ben! It’s over. Let him go.”
Ben pulled his hands away from the man’s throat. He stood slowly. The man coughed several times and pushed himself to his feet.
The man with the sword waved at Ben, motioning him to Boone’s side.
“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care,” the man said. “But we’ve been standing guard over this bloody cave for weeks with nothing to show for it.”
A wicked grin spread across the man’s face.
“Until today, that is! Two dead strangers will serve us well in Sterling’s eyes.”
The man drew back his sword. Boone closed his eyes and turned away. Boone collapsed when the man fell into him.
Boone tensed and nearly lost his breath when he hit the ground. He pushed the man off of him. The dead man had an arrow in his back.
“What the bloody—?” the other man said. He turned—and an arrow pierced his chest. He fell next to his fellow guard.
Helena stepped from behind a tree, holding her bow.
Ben clapped Boone on the shoulder and patted his hand against Boone’s chest.
“Brother, don’t ever lose this woman.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“It won’t do to have you bleed to death in the middle of the forest,” Helena said.
She put her hand behind Boone’s neck and pulled their lips together.
“You have a wedding to attend.”
Fifty
The rain was relentless. Simon looked at the beacon tower. It continued to burn though the rain seemed to be taking its toll.
Simon’s fire was virtually useless against Dathien. The giant was quick to use his magic against the flames, a skill learned early by the dragon hunter. Besides, Simon’s flames were in limited supply. Once they were gone, he had little hope of surviving the giant’s attacks. Dathien stayed close to Jaclyn, providing him yet another layer of protection from dragon fire.
Simon circled above the summit, changing direction and easily avoiding Dathien’s powerful blasts. Simon had to spend extra energy to stay aloft because of the damage to his wing. He felt the first twinges of exhaustion. But it would not matter.
He knows I will not stop, Simon thought. He knows I can’t.
After Dathien launched successive blasts, Simon dove. He rolled over, feinting to his left. The next blast hit him squarely in the chest.
Simon plummeted toward the ground, cursing at himself.
Fool! Your moves have become predictable!
Tears and rain flooded Simon’s vision. He could barely feel his wings at all. He looked at Jaclyn. She hung motionless against the ropes that held her to the heavy stake.
Simon forced his wings away from his body, moving him away from the clearing. He faced downward and opened his mouth. A blast of flame pushed against the ground. Simon rode the momentum, rising at the last possible moment.
He heard Dathien’s laughter. It would all be over soon.
Simon saw spots before his eyes.
Is this what it is like to die?
Spots. Spots in front of his eyes, in the sky.
Spots that grew larger…spots that…moved.
Simon blinked hard, straining to see.
He was surrounded by ten dragons. One of them had a rider. The rider waved his arm.
“Find Caleb!” Sir Edmund shouted. “We will take care of this monster!”
Simon landed at the forest’s edge.
“Caleb! Caleb! Where are you?”
Simon heard nothing. He could not make himself leave Jaclyn. Without thinking, Simon ran toward her.
Twin blasts hit the ground on each side of him. Simon looked up, into the icy stare of Dathien’s cold, blue eyes. The giant raised his arms again.
Two pillars of fire hit the giant, knocking him to the ground. Papa and Mother passed overhead, bathing the area in red-hot fire. The giant pulled the hood of his robe over his head. The flames died immediately. The robe showed no signs of damage.
Simon swore loudly.
His robe! His robe is bewitched! No wonder he does not fear us!
Dathien leapt to his feet. Sir Edmund had shouted at papa to flee. Dathien leveled a blast at Mother. A shower of sparks exploded against her back.
“No!” Simon screamed.
Mother made a horrific noise, but continued to fly behind her mate. The other dragons circled overhead. It was unclear what their plan of attack might be. Simon looked at Jaclyn. In spite of all the commotion, she had not moved.
She has just passed out, Simon told himself. But I have to get her away from the clearing. Away from the fire of ten dragons…
At the very next distraction, Simon told himself. I will go for her.
What is Dathien doing?
Simon watched as Dathien beg
an to climb. He climbed above the cave. He raised his arms and began to chant.
The sky grew even darker. Thunder rolled in all directions. Simon watched as the dragons fanned out behind Papa and Sir Edmund. The dragons prepared to attack.
Dathien roared into the sky. A tremendous wall of lightning turned the darkness into light. Dathien shook his arms over his head, sending his own blasts of energy to join the lightning. The result was an explosion that seemed to shake the entire world.
Streams of brilliant white light split the sky. Four dragons screamed in agony and fell to the earth.
One of them was Papa.
No. No!
Simon flew to where he had seen Papa fall. He could hear Dathien’s cackling laughter fade behind him.
Simon landed just before Mother did. Mother walked to Papa, pushing him with her snout, telling him to get up. Telling him to be all right.
But Papa was not all right. And neither was Sir Edmund.
“No,” Simon said softly.
He knew Sir Edmund’s body was broken. Edmund pulled himself toward Papa, dragging useless legs. Papa lay on his side, struggling to breathe. Edmund reached out with trembling fingers, trying to put his hand to Papa’s jaw. Papa pushed his tongue toward Edmund’s hand. He licked his friend’s outstretched fingers. Once. Twice.
And then Papa lay still.
Simon heard a rhythmic sound behind him. Caleb walked toward him, tapping at the muddy ground with a stick. His lip quivered.
“Papa?” the boy whispered.
Simon lowered himself to the ground.
“He’s gone, Caleb.”
Mother lifted her head and loosed a terrible cry.
“Sir Edmund?” Simon said. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” Edmund replied, his voice a forced and distant rattle.
“Caleb,” Simon said, quietly. “Can you…can you…help?”
Caleb raised a trembling hand. He held it there for a few seconds before dropping it to his side.
“I can’t…I can’t do anything!”
Caleb fell to his knees, sobbing. For the first time in a long time, Simon saw his young friend not as a powerful wizard, but as a frightened and lonely little boy.
“We will win this fight,” Sir Edmund croaked. “Do not despair. I have seen…”
Those were Sir Edmund Braun’s last words.
Caleb wiped his eyes and got to his feet. He and Simon raised their heads at the sound of dragon voices. The dragons were leaving. Flying toward the south.
“No,” Simon said. “No!”
“They are going home,” Caleb said. “They follow their clan leader. Nothing we do will change that.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. He could still hear Dathien’s laughter from the top of the mountain. Caleb heard it as well.
“He has become almost invincible,” Caleb said. “We have to do something.”
“Yes, we do,” Simon growled. “Come on.”
They climbed back to the summit, staying along the tree-line.
“Wait,” Simon whispered.
He could see Dathien. The giant stood triumphant in the same place, above the cave entrance. He scanned the skies, roaring in confident delight. He had killed the leader of the dragon clan—sending its minions back across the Southland border.
Simon breathed a little easier when he saw Jaclyn. Her head was up, now. She searched the area as much as her bonds would allow her head to move.
Simon looked back at the giant. Depression washed over him. The giant had just killed four dragons in one fell swoop. Four dragons, each of which was larger and more powerful than Simon.
Perhaps, Simon thought. Perhaps it is not my destiny to be a great king. Perhaps, it is only my destiny to spend my life in the effort.
Simon glared at Dathien.
“Perhaps, my life is to be traded—for yours!”
“Caleb,” Simon said. “Can you bind his hands, somehow? I will only need a few seconds!”
“What has the giant used to bind the queen?” Caleb asked.
“He has lashed her to a stake,” Simon said. “It looks like a fisherman’s net.”
“I will need a distraction.”
“I can distract him, but he may kill me.”
“If you cannot keep his attention away from the queen, he could kill her.”
Simon glared at Dathien, who scanned the area from his perch.
“I’ll do what I can,” Simon said.
Simon launched himself into the air. He changed direction at will, using his fire to alter his momentum.
He would not need his fire again. Perhaps…ever.
The giant swore, throwing lightning blasts with reckless abandon. Simon averted each one. Dathien halted. He raised his arms and his chin, summoning the lightning from the storm to join his own magic. His task would be much easier this time. The sky no longer held ten dragons. There was only one—and that one was his prize.
Caleb ran from the forest into the clearing, slipping and falling.
“Caleb! No! Go back!”
Caleb centered on Jaclyn’s voice. He raised his hands. The net began to unwind.
Five seconds later, the net fell to the ground. Jaclyn ran to Caleb and grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the trees.
“Run Caleb! Come on!”
Caleb would not move.
“No, my queen! I must finish—”
“The giant is too strong!” Jaclyn continued trying to drag Caleb with her.
Jaclyn stopped struggling. She stared into Caleb’s eyes and for a moment, she believed he could see her. Caleb pushed something into Jaclyn’s hands.
“This belongs to you. Now you must go.”
Caleb pulled away. A bright amber glow spread from his center. His eyes blazed with such intensity that Jaclyn had to turn away. When he spoke, his voice shook the ground with its power.
“It is not finished, my queen! Go! Now!”
Jaclyn was hit by a wave of pain and nausea. Her arms snapped against her belly.
“I love you, Caleb! Please be careful!”
Jaclyn turned and ran toward the forest.
Caleb raised his hands again. The net rose from the soggy ground. When Caleb centered on Dathien’s voice, he threw his arms in the giant’s direction. The net flew to the giant and began to spin. Dathien swore even more, swinging his fists at the nearly invisible ropes. His left hand became tangled in the net. The net continued to spin, pinning Dathien’s left arm against his body. Seconds later, his right arm was pinned as well.
“Now, Simon! Now!” Caleb screamed.
Simon sucked in air, his energy nearly spent. But he had what he needed. Dathien’s swearing became an outright rage by the time Simon reached him. Simon descended and opened his talons. He tightened them around the giant’s shoulders and beat his wings as hard as he possibly could.
“Ooooph!” Simon moaned from the strain. The giant weighed over five hundred pounds, and his drenched robe added fifty more. Even though Dathien was bound tightly, he fought his captivity with everything he had. Simon continued to beat his wings, but his right wing had sustained enough damage that he could barely clear the treetops. And that was not good enough.
The giant clawed at the net. Simon saw this and flew low over the trees. Dathien cried out when the branches tore at his legs. He called Simon names that Simon did not understand.
Simon resigned himself to what he would have to do. He would not be able to climb high enough to trust a fall to kill the giant. That left only one option—and he would have to hurry.
Simon turned due north and lowered his head against the wind. He drove forward. Taking one quick glimpse down, he saw that the giant had almost freed his left hand. There was nothing Simon could do but keep flying.
Simon glanced down just as Dathien’s hand broke free. Simon jerked his head to the side just as a white-hot blast flew past his head. Simon looked down. He was now over the harbor. Just a little farther
Dathien loosed another bla
st, this one careening off of Simon’s jaw. Simon did not know how much damage it had caused.
Because it no longer mattered.
Simon tilted his wings and drove straight down at the surface of the deep water.
It was a completely mad thing to do for a six-year-old boy who had never learned to swim. It was just as mad for an eighteen-year-old dragon, who had also never learned.
Simon hit the surface at full speed. He panicked when he felt his grip slipping away from Dathien. Simon wrapped all four of his legs around the struggling giant and beat his wings again. And again. And again.
The water grew darker. Bizarre thoughts passed through Simon’s mind. Time slowed to a crawl.
He beat his wings yet again. Simon was face-to-face with the giant. Simon saw the intensity of Dathien’s hate turn to panic, and then to desperation. And finally, to ultimate despair. The giant’s mouth was forced open. His struggling slowed. And then stopped.
Simon knew he had only seconds to live, but he was not willing to take the chance of Dathien living for one more day.
Simon beat his wings again. He could no longer hear anything. His vision was almost gone.
But he had done it. Sterling’s giant was dead. Dathien would kill no more. No more people—and no more dragons.
Simon closed his eyes and used the very last of his strength to push toward the ocean’s floor.
Fifty-One
The faces passed through Simon’s mind, one at a time; the faces of the people he loved. Boone and Helena, Ben, Lord and Lady Lamont, even Magdalena, in a strange way.
He remembered a day in his youth before the madness happened. He stood and watched his brother Lucien playing by himself. Lucien sat on the floor in his favorite place—beneath the immense oak table in the formal dining hall. The troubled child ignored the toys that were heaped on him as a child of the king. Lucien would sit and play by himself for hours, and could be heard humming if one listened closely. He collected stones and seashells and guarded them as if they were the most valuable things in the kingdom. His treasures.
