"You want me to…"
Fly, my child. Flap your wings and take to the sky.
Erenoth kept his gaze on the sky above. He could feel his powerful dragon's heart pounding in anticipation. It wasn't quite fear, but it wasn't quite pleasant either. He knew there was no turning back, and no resisting. The Dragon wanted him to fly, so fly he would.
Crying out with all of his fury, Erenoth leaped straight up, flapping his wings as hard as he could. The wind beneath them lifted him upward several yards, at which point he began to laugh. He was flying! But then, the distraction of his victory overcame his lift, and he crashed straight into the rounded walls of the shaft, tumbling back to the floor.
Easy Erenoth. It takes practice, but you will get it. Keep trying and stay focused this time.
Erenoth growled as he flipped over onto his belly once more. He pushed off again, flapping faster and faster as he rose up through the shaft. The wind began to blow around him, and he could smell the open air; the scent of rain and ocean breezes from the west. Thrilled with the novelty of it all, he excitedly flapped harder until he broke the peak of the tower. He looked down, seeing the gaping door in the roof, and the dark shaft below. He continued to flap, hovering in place.
"Now what?"
Look up and behind you.
Erenoth spun in the air using his wings. There in the clouds, the spectral form of a huge dragon soared above him. He laughed again, knowing that the Dragon was about to give him a flying lesson.
Follow me.
The Dragon dove past him, holding his wings out, still at his sides, soaring at a downward angle. Erenoth followed, giving his wings a few flaps before holding them still and gliding toward his master. The wind was exhilarating, and the sight of the ground below was thrilling to say the least.
Use the wind and updrafts to your advantage. They will allow you to fly for an almost unlimited amount of time. If you need guidance, look to the eagles and the albatross. They too use the currents. They are good teachers, and will not fear you. They will know that you are their friend.
They continued to swoop downward. Though once above a lake, Erenoth could feel a slight upwind. He spread his wings farther, angling them to catch the wind, rising up with it. He could hear the Dragon laugh.
Very good. Cooler air goes down, warmer air goes up. The lake below is a hot spring, so the air rising from it is very hot. Use it if you must. Now, follow me once more.
The Dragon tilted sideways in the air, diving slightly as he turned. Erenoth followed, mimicking the movements. Soon, they were headed south. Erenoth could see the ocean to his right, not far away. It was blue and peaceful, like a pleasant dream. In fact, everything was pleasant like a dream.
Surely he was dreaming.
T'kar's fortress is there.
Erenoth looked ahead, seeing the repulsive structure on the ground ahead. He hadn't realized it before, but he hated T'kar from the moment he first laid eyes upon him. He was a disgusting animal with all the morals of a slug. Even Erenoth had a sense of honor. T'kar had nothing; only lust and greed.
"I hate him," he growled.
I know you do. But you mustn't let your hate cloud your judgment. I know you can do this. I chose you for a reason.
"Why?" he asked. "Why me?"
You are a formidable warrior. You are efficient, deadly, and without mercy. That is what I need for my High Priest. To defeat a monster, you must be a monster yourself. But it is that honor within that I also need. For without honor, a monster can only be a monster.
"Like T'kar."
Correct. Now, let us get a closer look. I see something on the roof. Be warned, they cannot see me, but they can see you.
"Great," Erenoth said, sighing.
He followed the Dragon downward, plunging through the clouds like a meteorite. He could see that there was a huge, gaping hole in the flat roof of the tower. Strange, pungent fumes rose up from whatever was within, and Erenoth cringed with disgust.
Wyverns. T'kar must use them for spies. Destroy them.
"How?"
Land on the ledge and fill the chamber with your flame. It is too powerful for them to resist. But be wary, they will try to attack when they awaken.
"Alright," Erenoth said. "Here goes."
He streaked down and slammed into the remaining stone around the hole, shaking loose a few of the blocks. They fell down into the darkness, crashing into the floor below. Erenoth took a deep breath, filling his lungs with what he guessed would be enough air to fill the chamber below with flame. He dropped his head through the hole, opening his mouth as wide as he could, and let loose.
The cloud of flame illuminated the darkness as it billowed out, igniting the sleeping forms of the wyverns. There was a horrifying screech as their flesh was set aflame, and several of them dropped to the floor, flapping their wings and flailing their tails in agony. Erenoth's breath ran out, and he reared back to take another breath.
Good. One more time and then fly away. Be careful. They're starting to awaken.
He let loose one more time, this time moving his head from side to side to maximize his area of destruction. The screams filled his ears, bringing a sense of satisfaction he had not felt in quite some time. He was killing, but he was doing it for good this time.
A large body suddenly slammed into him, and he could feel the tearing of sharp claws. He leaped into the air, flapping his wings and continuing to expel flames. The wyvern followed him up, screeching with pain and rage as it streaked toward him fully alight. Erenoth laughed, dropping back down toward it and avoiding its fangs as it snapped him. He grasped its neck with his teeth, biting down and carrying the writhing thing away.
He tore at the wyvern's wings with his back claws, ripping and shredding the membranes and spilling its foul blood into the air. He let it go, laughing as the flightless creature fell to the ground below.
Good. Circle the tower until their screams are no more.
Erenoth dove once more, changing direction, and flying steadily around the tower's peak, waiting for any signs of life from within. Though he could still hear the screeches, no more wyverns attempted to break through to attack. The glow of his flames still illuminated the inside, throwing thick clouds of smoke through the opening. The chamber within was fully engulfed in flames, and whatever else was in there was likely burning up alongside the foul wyverns.
Very good, my friend. Now T'kar will know that he has a new enemy.
"That was enjoyable," Erenoth said, rising up through the air to join the spectral form of the Dragon. "What next?"
We will return to the tower. I made you a promise that I intend to keep.
"What in the Nine Hells is going on up there?" T'kar growled, storming into the circular hallway from his private chambers.
"Sire," a soldier said. "The wyverns' chamber has been set aflame somehow."
"What?" T'kar shot back, pulling on his harness and drawing his blades.
He stormed into the stairwell, followed by the soldiers that had come at his call. His anger was building up as he ascended, and the smoke that billowed from above infuriated him even more.
"My wyverns," he growled. "Who has done this? Send for Malthor!"
He reached the top of the stairwell where Randar was holding the door closed. The man turned to him with a disturbing expression, shaking his head.
"It's no use, Sire," he said. "They're all dead. The fire has consumed everything."
"Let me through," T'kar demanded.
Randar opened the door, covering his mouth and nose as the smoke poured through. T'kar ran through the smoke, his heart pounding with both rage and terror. As he looked around at the carnage, he realized that Randar was right. All of his wyverns lay in flaming heaps upon the floor, and their nesting material was charred into oblivion. Though the smoke didn't bother him, the sight of his pets' bodies tore at his heart and soul.
Without his pets, he would have no spies.
"How?" he shouted. "How did this happen?"
He
felt a strong hand on his shoulder pull him backward toward the door. Though he resisted at first, he knew that it was Randar pulling him to safety. Tough as he was, the king was just as flammable as everything else in the room.
"Come, Sire," the reassuring voice of Randar said. "The fire will burn out soon. We can look for clues then."
T'kar growled, pulling away but following Randar out the door. His hands gripped the handles of his blades tightly, and his arms were tensed to the point of cramping. He gritted his teeth in rage, and as he met the gaze of one of his guards, that rage got the best of him. He dropped his blades, grabbing the guard by the throat. He lifted the man up with one hand, squeezing with all his might. The guard struggled as the others looked on in horror, falling limp as his neck crunched under T'kar's grip.
The king dropped the body, standing still as he watched it slide down the stairway. Randar stood against the wall, watching the king's anger melt away. T'kar's breathing slowed, and his heart began to feel at peace again. Killing the guard had helped.
"Feel better now?" Randar asked, cocking a brow.
"I do," T'kar replied. "Find Malthor and we'll investigate. I want to know who did this."
Randar shrugged. "Is it possible that Lilit did it out of spite?"
"Spite for what?"
"I don't know. Perhaps Kathorgo commanded her to, or she felt the need to get rid of them, lest they endanger her future spawn."
"Spawn," T'kar growled, continuing down the stairs.
The guards snapped to attention as he passed, and he knew they watched him in terror. That put a smile on his lips.
"At ease, men," he said. "Drag this body away and toss it from the window. Then get back to your posts."
"Yes, Sire," one said, pulling his companion away.
T'kar and Randar continued down the stairway, exiting the door into the hallway. T'kar paused, scratching his chin as he leaned against the wall. Randar stopped, cocking an eyebrow.
"What is it, Sire?" he asked.
"I want Lilit on this," he said. "But I fear she has become distracted by her impending spawn."
"She can still cast her spells," Randar said. "I doubt her abilities in that area have been compromised."
T'kar shrugged. "Even so, I am not sure she is as useful as she was. She seems to be showing some loyalty to Kathorgo, and I am not sure why."
"Nevertheless, Sire," Randar said, "we should consult her. Any information she can give would be useful, regardless of her loyalties."
T'kar heard the familiar clacking of Malthor's boots. The necromancer approached confidently, his face smug and ready to spill some much needed information. He bowed his head slightly as he stopped in front of them.
"Sire," he said. "You called for me, and I know why. I can say with certainty that this was the work of a dragon."
T'kar's heart skipped a beat. "What!?" he growled.
"A dragon," Malthor repeated. "Not the dragon, but a dragon nonetheless."
"How do you know this?"
Malthor folded his arms across his chest. "I saw it in the sky as it was flying away."
T'kar gnashed his teeth with rage. The last time he had seen a dragon was on the night of his victory over the Northmen. But that was over twenty years ago. Even this Daegoth could not explain why a dragon was seen in the sky. Perhaps Malthor was mistaken. There were no real dragons.
"Are you certain it wasn't one of our wyverns?" Randar asked, taking the words right out of T'kar's mouth.
"I am positive," Malthor said. "It was black, horned, and about the size of a man. It had no stinger on the end of its tail, just several horns and spines along its back."
T'kar rubbed his face, feeling the rage build up inside him. If what Malthor said was true, then stranger things than a rebellion were afoot. Never before had any band of rebels come into contact with a dragon, and T'kar was sure that this strange creature had to be in league with the rebels. It was a dragon, after all, and Daegoth was the son of the Dragon himself.
"We shall speak to Lilit," he said. "If Daegoth has somehow gained the ability to summon dragons to his aid, then we will need more than just an army of men. Especially now that my wyverns are dead."
He turned and pounded his fist against the stone wall, prompting Randar and Malthor to back away. He slammed his forehead against it as well, hard enough to draw blood. There, he growled and hissed to himself as pictures of dragons and Northmen flashed in his mind's eye.
"Are you unwell, Sire?" Randar asked. "Do you need more medicine?"
"I am fine, Randar," T'kar growled. "Let us find Lilit."
The witch was in her chambers, sitting over her scrying bowl, her black hair dangling down around her pale face. Her belly was swollen, much larger than it should be after only a few days of pregnancy. T'kar shook his head when he saw it, surprised at its size. Even Randar's eyes widened almost humorously.
"Lilit, my dear," T'kar said. "I need you right now. Are you feeling—"
"The dragon," she said, lifting her face to look at him. She was pale and sickly, but her eyes still sparkled with their usual sinister glow. "Sit down."
T'kar pulled a chair up to Lilit's small table. Randar and Malthor stood behind him, looking on as he leaned his elbows on the table. Lilit lowered her face again, lifting a hand to stir the waters with her finger.
"This is a most unusual occurrence," she said. "I felt the presence of the assassin at the same time the dragon appeared."
T'kar furrowed his brow. "What does that mean?" he asked. "How is that possible?"
"Erenoth has abandoned his mark. He no longer pursues the woman who injured you."
"Where is he then? Has he returned expecting me to pay him without doing his job?"
"No," Lilit said. "The dragon… was he."
T'kar leaned back, folding his arms across his chest skeptically. He shot Randar a glance. The man shrugged.
"Explain," T'kar said.
"That is all," Lilit whispered. "The dragon was Erenoth himself. He no longer serves us… you."
"She's delirious," Malthor said, chuckling. "Just a side effect of carrying the spawn of a wretched and useless demon."
Lilit's head snapped up, and her teeth were bared as she growled in Malthor's direction. The necromancer backed away somewhat, but kept his defiant look. It was amusing.
"Calm, now," T'kar said. "Malthor has spoken to Kathorgo himself. He tells me that I should destroy the statue. Tell me what you think."
Lilit turned her head to T'kar as a smile spread across her lips. She cocked her head seductively.
"That is pointless," she said. "It is just a statue. Kathorgo's true essence resides in the depths of the Earth, where he spawned my sisters and me."
"Igraina," Malthor said.
T'kar grunted. "So?"
"You can do him no harm," Lilit said. "But when our child arrives, you will have a new ally. Your enemies will tremble before Kathorgo himself."
"You are not giving birth to Kathorgo," Malthor said. "This spawn will be nothing but a mongrel, an inbred slug of flesh with no use."
"Malthor," T'kar said, frustrated. "Be silent."
"Forgive me, Sire," Malthor said. "But you employed me for a reason; my wisdom and my magic. This entity is nothing to you. It is powerless. It even claimed to be the source of my power as I said before."
"Then who or what is the source of your power?" T'kar asked.
"An entity far greater than anything," Malthor said. "One that has the power of the Universe itself, not just the empty husk of this world."
"He is right," Lilit snapped. "But this entity is not here in this realm. It will need a conduit to come through, and that conduit is yet to reveal himself. Perhaps my… spawn… as Malthor calls it, will be that conduit."
T'kar smiled. If Lilit's child could help such an entity cross over into this realm, surely it would be grateful enough to assist T'kar in crushing his enemies. The thought of it sounded excellent. With the help of such a powerful being, he could
completely destroy the Firstborn themselves—not just the Dragon—and put their heads on spikes.
Just like Jarl Borg and his army.
T'kar threw his head back in laughter, drawing strange looks from the other three. He looked at each of them in turn, loud guffaws spewing from his mouth uncontrollably. Eventually they joined him, and the four of them laughed into the night.
Chapter Nineteen
You did very well, Erenoth, the Dragon said.
Erenoth, having transformed back into his natural shape, knelt in front of the dragon statue with his head bowed. He felt a strange sense of accomplishment within himself; something he had never really felt before. He had done something good—not for his own benefit—and it filled him with a strange emotion that was unfamiliar. It was pleasant yet frightening at the same time.
As a reward, I will keep my promise. Stand up, my friend.
Erenoth stood as the altar in front of him began to tremble. Small lines appeared near the edges of it, as if the altar's top were made of three pieces of stone, and indeed it was. The lines widened before his very eyes, and from the darkness within, the beautiful Alvar blades slowly rose up pommel first. They were just as beautiful as he remembered; gleaming curved blades with black, dragon-shaped handles with a dragon's head as the pommels.
Erenoth's heart raced as he beheld them, and a smile slowly spread across his face. Being in their presence—and not just in a vision—brought him a sense of strength. He felt that with these blades in his hands he could accomplish anything, defeat any enemy, and serve the Dragon with every ounce of his being.
They were made just for you, Erenoth. I knew your method of fighting, the way you use two swords. It is a style that is familiar to me, as my brother Imbra also fights with two blades, sometimes six.
"Six?"
Yes. But we won't go into that at the moment. I want you to take the blades and get to know them. They will forever be a part of you, and even in your dragon form will you bear them in your hands.
As he stepped forward, Erenoth hesitated, thinking of the two Alvar boys that carried them in his vision.
Do not hesitate, Erenoth. They are yours.
Sisters of the Blade Page 20
