by Mark B Frost
Chapter 34.
The Strange Draconic Forest
Atheme and his company once again marched through deep forest. Shortly after leaving the spring’s clearing, the first forest had faded away. They had walked through a stretch of brushlands for nearly an hour, then were forced to enter these new woods. Since then the sun had set, and Atheme had more than once expressed his desire to settle down and rest for the night. Serene, however, insisted it was too dangerous to stop here. This forest was much more placid than the first, so he was uncertain what dangers concerned her. Still, he was already familiar enough with the monsters on this continent to heed her warnings.
They marched for a couple of hours and the going was painfully slow. The trees were less intimidating than before, but grew closer together and often barred all forms of progress, forcing the party to double back and search for ways around. Atheme’s travel instincts had become confused by all the turning about, but he was suspicious they were not even walking south anymore. He would have mentioned it to Serene, who had taken point, but he realized there was nothing she could do about their traveling conditions.
As they walked, he noticed Abaddon casting what could have been mistaken for nervous glances at the forest periodically. After their last conversation in the clearing, the mystic had once more failed to locate whatever it was he had sensed. Atheme guessed he was still picking something up. He was about to ask Serene if she knew what it might be, when Abaddon placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Atheme.”
“Yeah, Ab. What’s up?”
“Remember those strange feelings I was getting earlier?”
“Still getting them?”
“We’re surrounded by about a hundred of whatever they are.” Atheme’s eyes widened and he started to open his mouth to tap a Feeler matrix. Abaddon quickly shook his head. “Don’t do it. They seem to be immune to Asterian magic somehow, but they can sense when its being used. Every time I’ve actively tried to seek them out they disappear.”
Atheme nodded and increased his pace a bit to bring himself even with Serene. “Abaddon says were surrounded by something. Don’t scan for them, but tell me, can you feel them too?”
She looked around for a moment, her eyes flickering. “Barely.”
“Any idea what they are?”
“Not really. There are so many different things they could be, and I can’t remember exactly which creatures reside on this continent.”
“Abaddon says there are at least a hundred of them. What do you think we should do?”
She debated for a moment, and quickened her walking pace. Atheme followed suit, but Abaddon slowed down and lingered.
“Since we don’t know for sure what they are,” Serene offered, “and they outnumber us so badly, we should try to get out of the forest before they decide to make their move.”
“Are we getting close to the edge of the forest?”
“I don’t know. But I pray to Pecoros that we are.”
Abaddon dashed forward and caught up with them. “I got a lock on one of them. It would seem there are enough now that they’ve stopped trying to hide.”
The Saint raised a hand lightly and a flicker of silver energy ran up it. “Draconics.”
Atheme blinked. “What’s a draconic?”
“They’re not dissimilar to nightspawn. Whereas nightspawn are humans who have given too much of themselves over to their Asterian side, draconics are dragons who came to the Morolian plane and stayed for too long, or at some point were damaged in a significant manner and are no longer able to return to Asteria. Being stuck in Morolia for centuries has evolved them into a new type of creature. They’re driven to devour the shattered essences of creatures with powerful Asterian connections.”
He digested this information as they continued walking. “So they want your essence, I suppose.”
“Mine, or more probably Abaddon’s. His Asterian imprint is even more potent than mine. Usually draconics are just scavengers, cowards really, waiting until a creature is already slain before feasting upon its energy. Abaddon must be a meal more than they can resist, so they decided to group together and kill him.”
The mystic’s hand started to wander up to Kargaroth, then he squelched the urge and dropped it back to his side. “What are our odds?” he asked Serene.
“You can’t take these things lightly. Dragons are one of the most powerful races on either plane, and draconics are the focused power of both halves of a dragon channeled onto the Morolian plane. In addition, they have spent the last Pecoros-only-knows how many hundreds of years devouring other creature’s Asterian powers.”
His eyes narrowed in response. “But they have no Asterian counterparts anymore...”
Atheme finished the thought. “Which means that they can’t use magic. Abaddon’s right. Without magic, these things can only hope to outfight us.”
“And there’s no way they can outfight us.”
Serene remained unconvinced. “As Abaddon said, there’s at least a hundred of them and only three of us. He can’t use Kargaroth, my powers are already getting close to being exhausted, and Atheme, you aren’t powerful enough to defeat all of these things by yourself.”
“It’s better than running when we don’t know where we’re going.” He stopped walking, drew his sare, and thrust it into the ground. Abaddon followed his lead, removing Kargaroth from his back and laying it down lightly where it would not pose an immediate temptation.
Serene stopped and threw a fit, yelling at both of them to start marching again. They stared at her coolly and offered no response. Atheme heard rustling in the woods growing closer, and exchanged a grin with Abaddon.
The creatures shortly made their appearance, slipping out of the forest en masse and eyeing their victims hungrily. From their dragon origins they had evolved into a human-like shape, and were slightly larger than Abaddon. Their roots were apparent, as a thick layer of multicolored scales armored each figure, and narrow black eyes stared out of slits on massive reptilian heads. Each one carried a razor-sharp cutlass that seemed to be fashioned from bones and scales of their own kind, and the claws on their hands had been sharpened and extended until they resembled six-inch knives attached to the tip of each finger.
Serene quickly scrambled over to where the two knights stood. Some of her former audacity seemed to have escaped her. “Atheme,” she said in a subdued tone, “it’s too dark. They can see perfectly at night and have an advantage over us here.”
“Well then, let’s brighten the area up. Telaric nosfricte,” he chanted, and a dozen balls of light shot from his body and hovered in the air above them. The draconics drew back at this display, but then came forward rapidly, more interested now than before.
One of them hopped up onto a low tree branch and used it to catapult itself at Abaddon. He made no response until the creature was less than a yard away, its claws and cutlass already swinging for his face. When it was right on top of him, he delivered a powerful punch straight into the leathery chest. The top half of the severed body flew high into the air, as the waist and legs fell lifelessly at The Destroyer’s feet. The draconics paid no attention to this display of power, and a score of them quickly set upon the mystic warrior from every direction. Atheme and Serene were similarly surrounded, and soon found themselves fighting for their lives.
The Lord Councilor moved fast, the blades of the sare repeatedly striking and slashing reptilian scales. His quick defense was impenetrable and he took no injuries, but he also found that the sare was doing no significant damage to the armored hides. Serene had surrounded herself in a barrier of light, and for a while her silvery lightning whips tore apart enemy after enemy. After less than a minute of this her light began to dim, and Atheme realized she had finite reserves of power. He checked and saw that even Abaddon seemed to be struggling, so completely swarmed by lizard-men that he could barely find enough room to throw a decent punch.
Atheme closed the blades of the sare and tried to lay ab
out the draconics with blunt blows to their heads. He finally managed to knock one unconscious after about ten fierce hits to its skull. He knew he could make no meaningful progress at such a pace. He sent a scattering of lightning bolts crashing around him, driving the enemies back, then with an incantation activated Haste. His body erupted into a pillar of light, and the draconic nearest him was melted by the backlash of Morolian power. Just as he was about to tear into his foes with renewed zest, he saw Serene go down from a nasty scrape to her head.
The only thing his mind registered was that the love of his life was in danger. As a shrill, “Relm!” tore through his throat, he exploded through the wall of draconics standing in his way and came to her side. He struck in every direction as fast as he could, fighting desperately to keep them away from Serene. The blades of the sare were still withdrawn, but the Holy Aura covering the staff tore through the draconic hides and sent blood flying in every direction. Even as Atheme was fighting, his magically enhanced senses picked up dozens more draconics coming from the surrounding forest. He would not be able to kill them all quickly enough to tend to Serene before it could be too late.
Just then a dark-gloved hand reached through the crowd and grabbed the neck of the draconic in front of Atheme, tearing its head off in one swift movement. Abaddon burst through, knocking several draconics out of his way and tearing an opening into the wall they had built.
As the two Knights of the Sun proceeded to shred their would-be marauders, Abaddon shouted, “Get the girl and get out. She said they want me more, so I should be able to lure most of them away from you.”
“Ab,” Atheme shouted back, “even you’ll be killed by a force this large!”
“If Serene dies here then our quest is in vain. My chances of survival may be slim, but they are higher than hers. That hit she took was worse than you know and she’s low on magic. I can already feel her life ebbing.”
This news was all Atheme needed to make up his mind. “Abaddon, duck!” he shouted. The big man responded instantly, and the Lord Councilor extended the sare out to its full eleven-foot length and spun it over his head with all his might. The draconics too slow to escape his reach had their heads and shoulders ripped from their bodies, and the chaos of the battle briefly lulled.
He closed his sare and stooped down to lift Serene. She regained enough consciousness to discern what was happening, and whispered with the little strength she could muster, “I won’t leave without the sword.”
He grimaced at her stubbornness, but nonetheless shouted back, “Abaddon, I need Kargaroth!”
The big man snapped and the sword immediately flew to his hand, cleaving through any dragonspawn foolish enough to come between it and its master. He caught it, then swiftly removed his long purple cape and wrapped it up. He tossed it over to Atheme, then turned back to bashing in the heads of draconics.
The luminous knight caught the purple package and slung it over his back, looping it through one of his shoulder belts, then once again picked up Serene. By this time there were three or four draconics nearly on top of him, despite Abaddon’s best efforts to stave off their assault. He felt a few blades and claws pierce his body as he leaped into the treetops above.
He launched himself nimbly from one branch to the next, using the extra strength from his Hasted blessings to keep himself moving at high velocity, as well as healing the wounds on his body. Despite his remarkable progress, the pursuing draconics kept the gap narrow, only a few leaps behind him.
It was not long before Atheme came to the southern end of the forest. As he dropped down from the final branch and onto a barren rocky terrain, he broke into a full sprint. The draconics continued pursuit, but it soon became apparent they could not keep up with the man on foot. They turned and retreated back to the forest, hoping to finish off Abaddon and share in the feast on his spirit.
Atheme did not intend to stop running until he could no longer see the forest behind him, so he kept a constant stream of healing energy flowing into Serene, supplementing her strength. When he came to a point where he could go no farther south without entering the mountains, he stopped and gently laid her down. He let Haste subside, then gathered the residual white energies from the spell and channeled them into her. He used such a tremendous dosage of power that he soon had her into stable condition. He let her rest and looked to the north, wondering how long to wait before knowing if his old friend would be coming to join them.
* * * * *
As the sun cleared the horizon the following morning, the red head of Atheme Tethen began to droop. He had sat up all night awaiting the reappearance of Abaddon, but there had been no signs of approach. Serene had regained consciousness a few times and was well recovered. She napped now, conserving her strength, and Atheme could feel his body going numb from exhaustion and boredom.
Serene awoke and sat up slowly, then looked over to see him dozing. She smiled sadly at his small figure, her eyes and mouth flickering as she pondered all he had done for her. She looked around and saw Kargaroth leaning against a tree across from her, and suddenly scampered back from it. She realized how lucky she had been to survive the night. She had never thought to mention to her fellow travelers that a single touch from the sword would destroy her body. She counted it a miracle that in the chaos of the night before she had not come into accidental contact.
She edged forward and took over watch for Atheme, enhancing her sight and gazing out as far as she could. She encountered a strange resistance, and the harder she tried to focus through it the more her head began to ache. She gave up and tried to relax for a while, but soon became bored and gave Atheme a light tap on the shoulder.
His eyes opened instantly and he looked around rapidly as his hand flew to his sare. Finding only Serene nearby, he dropped his defense and stretched. “Good morning, dear. Sleep well?”
She was pleased to find him so cheerful. She knew she had been on his bad side as of late. “Yes, of course. Thank you for watching over me.”
He smiled and eased closer to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and staring out to the north once more. “No sign of our friend?”
She let her head lean into his shoulder. “I’m afraid not.”
“So what do we do? Do we go on without him?”
“This whole plan is contingent upon Abaddon’s participation. Without him, there’s no real point in continuing.”
“Then I guess we sit here and wait for him to show up.” They slipped into silence for a while. Serene recognized that Atheme was not allowing for the possibility of Abaddon’s demise, but she decided to leave the topic alone for at least a while longer.
As she was staring out to the north, she noticed that her field of vision kept shrinking down. Slowly, almost unnoticeable, but every few seconds she could see a few yards less. It was as if they were surrounded by a sort of barrier, and it was closing in on them.
“Atheme—”
“Something’s approaching,” he interrupted her. “Something powerful, but not Abaddon. I know. Do you think it’s the draconics? They seemed to be able to mask their presence before.”
“That was different. Before, they weren’t detectable at all. Even Abaddon couldn’t precisely locate them. Whatever this is, I can clearly sense it. I just can’t read anything about it, or even see it.”
“We wait it out, then.”
He continued waiting motionlessly. Serene tried to match his calm demeanor, but she became increasingly agitated and started to fidget. She turned her head to say something, when suddenly he jumped backward at blinding speed, just as the ground where he had been sitting collapsed into a small crater.
Serene shot to her feet and watched as Atheme drew his sare and began battling with an unseen force. His head jerked rapidly from side to side as if avoiding punches, and all around him rocks cracked or exploded at random. He spun the sare in dizzying formations, occasionally striking out with the weapon in serpentine patterns. The sare never seemed to make contact with anything
, and every so often a fount of blood would burst from one of his limbs. Finally, after taking a particularly nasty impact to the chest, he hopped back a few yards and grimaced.
“Serene, strike me. Now!”
His tone left no room for questions, so she immediately blasted one of her strongest silver bolts at him. He twisted a hand on the sare and the fanned blade formation extended. He swung the weapon hard, striking the energy with the fan. Most of the power coursed through his body—dealing fairly serious damage—but a portion of it was deflected directly in front of him in a wide sweep.
The Saint’s lightning encountered something and coursed over and around a human figure. The figure shivered for a few seconds, then fell to its knees. Whatever enchantment had masked its presence fell apart, and a human male wrapped in loose grey robes sat revealed. He looked up with determination on his face, then struck the ground with an open palm. A wave of earth came at Atheme from the blow. He leaped high into the air and gave a nimble spin, landing behind his opponent. The sare crashed down on the robed figure as a wave of pure force, but the man managed to launch himself out of the way. He landed on his feet and turned to Atheme, punching a fist into the air in front of him. The Lord Councilor felt himself struck by a powerful force, even though his opponent was several yards away.
He straightened himself and leaned the sare up on his shoulder, mimicking Abaddon’s favorite pose. “You use powerful kinetic techniques to strike your enemies from afar. Interesting fighting style. Couple that with your invisibility and speed, and suddenly you become impossible to defeat, both offense and defense perfectly combined.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “But if you think yourself quicker than Atheme Tethen, you’re about to learn a very painful lesson.”
He dashed straight at the man, running a slightly tacked course. The unnamed challenger went to throw another punch. Atheme suddenly sped up exponentially, landing on the man’s fist in the middle of his punch and leaping off it. He slung his sare like a javelin, straight down on his assailant’s head. Though caught off guard, the man was still fast enough to dodge the deadly dart. Atheme had foreseen this, and immediately drew three long daggers from his breeches and sent them raining down. His foe was in mid-jump and unable to respond to this new attack in time. A knife slashed through the tendons in each of his ankles, and the third embedded itself between his neck and right shoulder.
