Fighter

by Isaac Hooke

  As usual, Malem followed at the rear of the party with Weyanna. As he advanced along the narrow aisle, he gazed at the stalagmites, searching for signs of Goldenthall.

  Timlir kept glancing down at the treasure beside them and licking his lips. He even extended his hand once, reaching for the haft of a particularly nice bejeweled battle-ax, but Xaxia slapped his palm, and he guiltily withdrew his arm. Xaxia herself was distracted by the hoard, and gazed at it just as often. Even Gwen seemed to be enraptured, glancing at the treasure, and turning her eyes away only after long moments.

  But gold and jewels had little allure for Malem, a man who had lived most of his life in the forest. They were trinkets assigned an arbitrary value by man, a valuation he did not share. Trees, shrubs and the animals that harbored in them were worth more to him than any gems. The woods offered everything he needed to sustain himself: food, shelter, and companionship. Yes, these coins did little to tempt him.

  Just as these thoughts flitted through his head, something caught his eye above the hoard, near the periphery of Grendel’s light cone. From the pile of gold coins there, a dark mist arose, darting toward the party.

  “Grendel!” Malem hissed.

  But it was too late.

  Those lethal works of dark magic were going to hit Grendel, Gwen, and Aurora.

  11

  Malem realized he could sense those darts as if they were living entities. Or rather, a single living being. On a whim, he reached out in the split second before they arrived and wrapped his will around that entity.

  The darts froze in place, hovering in midair; meanwhile, the entity struggled in his grasp like a fish freshly pulled from the stream. And then he subdued it: the alien consciousness expanded into his mind, using up four slots, a single entity responsible for the different black ribbons that hovered beside him.

  I control the Darkness.

  The fact that he could Break it told him Banvil was the source, as that was the only Darkness Malem could dominate, owing to his link with the Balor. That Darkness, along with its equivalent in his head, were essentially one and the same.

  All of that had happened in a split second. Grendel had turned toward the Darkness when he said her name, and whips of pure white light erupted from her in that moment.

  “Wait, they’re mine,” he told her.

  But she struck out, and when her whips connected with the Darkness, they canceled each other out.

  Malem slumped as his link to the alien entity severed.

  But then more streaks of Darkness emerged from that pile, a whole lot more. As did Goldenthall, his eyes completely black, and dark mist pouring from them in malevolent waves.

  Ten oraks erupted from the treasure around him as well: big, ugly, armored things equipped with pikes. The monsters raced across the hoard toward Malem and the others, their feet sinking into the coins, sending them clinking away.

  Once more Malem Broke the Darkness, and this time turned them all back on Goldenthall. The veins struck the man’s flesh, but did nothing, and he laughed. Malem slumped as his connection to the absorbed Darkness severed; meanwhile Goldenthall turned about, and hastily waded across the hoard, toward the cave entrance.

  Malem reached further with his mind, and realized he could now sense Goldenthall, or rather Banvil—the demon had entered the former king’s body fully. But since the vessel was uninjured, he could not yet Break the Balor.

  Grendel struck out at the oraks with whips of light and wrapped the creatures up, hoisting them off the ground. She also sent tendrils of light after Goldenthall, but the man kept running, and the tendrils thinned rapidly as they neared him; before the light could touch, Goldenthall launched short ribbons of Darkness and slapped them away.

  Grendel slumped from the effort of chasing Goldenthall while restraining the oraks, and she grabbed onto Gwen’s shoulder to sustain herself.

  The energy bundle Malem sensed on the far side of the room stirred.

  He heard it then: from the murk came a sound like an avalanche of coins, as if a huge monster was stirring amid the treasure on the opposite side of the cavern.

  “The dragon!” Malem said.

  He tried to Break that bundle of energy now that the dragon was awake, but his will evaporated when he made contact.

  Grendel gasped, and the whips of light that held the oraks in the air vanished, and the monsters dropped onto the treasure.

  “What is it?” Malem asked.

  “Some kind of debuff!” Grendel said. “It was as if my magic ability was ripped out from underneath me!”

  “I can’t transform!” Weyanna said.

  “Nor I!” Sylfi said.

  “Let’s go!” Malem said.

  The party retreated as loud footfalls reverberated across the cavern, accompanied by the noise of cascading coins as something very big approached.

  Malem and the others were able to move rapidly because the aisle between the wall and the hoard was free of impediments. The oraks had to wade through the coins however, and when a dragon’s head appeared from the murk behind them, they screamed as it latched onto them with its jaws in turn and swallowed them, two at a time.

  Malem and the others exited the main cavern and darted into the tunnel. Ahead, Goldenthall continued to run away. Gwen, Sylfi and Brita unleashed their arrows at the man, who zigzagged as he sprinted away. Gwen scored several blows, pincushioning Goldenthall’s back, but the man seemed unaffected by the magic arrows.

  “Why isn’t he falling?” Gwen said. “Those arrows have enough stopping power to take down an unarmored monster twice his size with a single hit!”

  “Must be the debuff!” Wendolin said. “Negating its magical properties!”

  “Or Banvil has grown that powerful!” Xaxia said.

  In moments, Goldenthall reached the opening that led outside; Malem stumbled—he felt the boomerang effect as the birds he had deployed at the entrance died instantly.

  Behind them, the dragon exited the main cavern, and pursued them into the tunnel. It was fast closing.

  Malem kept glancing over his shoulder, and soon saw a head peeking from the murk behind them and into the cone of light from Grendel’s globe.

  The exit was just ahead.

  The dragon opened its mouth, and released what could best be described as molten liquid. It was a bright, red hot ingot of matter streaking rapidly toward the party; it threatened to engulf them and send them to a fiery end.

  They dashed through the opening, leaped off the terrace, and landed in the scree next to it; Malem grabbed onto a larger rock to halt his descent, while the others dug in their feet and came to a halt various distances from the platform; scree continued to slide down for some distance beneath them.

  The bodies of some of his birds lay beside him, their feathers blackened with dark veins.

  Above him, the molten ingot struck the metal terrace just outside the entrance.

  “Well, now we know the source of the metal!” Timlir said from where the dwarf was dug in beside him.

  Malem spotted Goldenthall racing away down the trail through the scree to his right. A portal of light suddenly appeared in front of the man, and Goldenthall dashed through, vanishing. The portal disappeared a moment later.

  “And just like that, he’s gone,” Gwen commented.

  Hanging onto the rocky slope with one hand, Malem drew his sword. “It’s time to fight this dragon.”

  Can any of you transform yet? he asked.

  Can’t, Sylfi replied.

  No magic either, Wendolin said.

  From the cave, a huge reptilian head emerged. The rest of the body emerged shortly thereafter as the dragon slowly stalked onto the terrace, until it stood before them on the terrace in its full glory. It was a massive, four-legged thing, with wings folded over scales of rusty gray.

  A gray dragon! Weyanna sent. They breathe molten iron and are renowned for their anti-magic abilities.

  “Where are you, thieves?” the dragon intoned in a deep, an
gry voice.

  Balethorn began to hum.

  Silence, Broken blade!

  But it hummed all the louder. Malem was going to have to go inside the blade again at some point and show the blade who was boss, apparently.

  Drawn by the sound, the dragon turned its head toward him.

  Malem glanced at Wendolin; hanging from the slope beneath the terrace like everyone else, she was the furthest from him.

  Wendolin, a diversion, please…

  “Hey, shit breath!” Wendolin called from hiding.

  The dragon’s head snapped toward her, and it stalked toward Wendolin.

  Malem chose that moment to strike: he pulled himself over the edge and, carefully sidestepping the fresh molten iron below, which was spreading across the terrace, he raced toward the dragon’s hind leg. Balethorn, satisfied that it would soon be sated, became quiet in anticipation.

  Meanwhile, the dragon peered over the edge above Wendolin to see who had spoken.

  Malem reached his target and swung Balethorn, striking the monster in the leg. He drained a good amount of stamina before the dragon yelped and swatted him away with its stricken limb.

  Malem landed tumbling on the terrace, next to the molten iron. His dragonscale armor had spared him from the brunt of the impact. As he came to a stop on his back, a huge leg descended from above, preparing to crush him.

  He rolled away; the crystal sword, still belted to his hips, clattered loudly on the terrace as if to remind him of its presence. Too bad he couldn’t use it.

  He scrambled to his feet as the dragon’s foot smashed into the terrace beside him; its jaws were already descending toward him. He dodged to the side, but the dragon extended a talon from its foot, and he tripped over it. Those jaws swerved to intercept his prostrate form.

  Before he could roll out of the way, two strong hands latched onto his feet and roughly dragged him over the edge of the terrace. He landed in the scree.

  Behind him, the dragon’s muzzle smashed into the bare surface.

  He came to a stop in the loose stones next to Aurora, who crouched there in her red robes: she was the one who had pulled him out of the way. She was gazing up at the dragon in concern, waiting to see what it would do next.

  Ordinarily, he probably would have been shocked that Aurora had saved him; she, this woman who ostensibly hated him, but he had no time to contemplate what had just happened. Instead, his mind compartmentalized the moment away for future reference, and he leaped aside as that reptilian head came lunging down once more. Aurora dodged in the opposite direction, slipping further down the slope.

  The dragon missed them both, and only scooped up rock chips for its efforts. As it withdrew its head, it unleashed another stream of molten hot iron, and Malem vaulted away down the slope. The others in its path similarly bounded away, with each step causing them to slide further down the scree. Above them, the fresh iron painted a jagged molten line across the slope.

  The debuff zone is gone! Wendolin sent as she slid past him. It must have been restricted to the den and the area immediately surrounding it. Perhaps due to some magic item the dragon has in its hoard!

  Can you transform, Metals? Malem asked.

  In answer, Weyanna doffed her dress as she slid down the scree, and became a white dragon. Meanwhile, Sylfi and Brita similarly unstrapped their own gear. They moved with surprising speed, and in seconds had even their undergarments resting upon the ground. They transformed, faster than he had ever seen them change before.

  Above him, the gray dragon seemed to be moving in slow motion relative to everyone else.

  He glanced at Grendel; she was glowing a bright yellow. Apparently she was bestowing some kind of speed buff to the party.

  Weyanna reached the gray dragon first and barreled into it. Brita and Sylfi joined the fray a moment later. The three Metals were roughly half the size of the enemy, but they used their speed advantage to dodge those snapping jaws and talons and got the upper hand. It took all three of them to subdue the dragon, however: Brita wrapped her teeth around its neck and pressed down, while Weyanna and Sylfi used their weight to pin the gray and ensure it couldn’t break free of her hold.

  From the brambles growing from the scree, branches sprouted upward, reaching the terrace and wrapping around the dragon, further pinning the creature.

  Malem gave some of the stamina he had drained from his first strike to Wendolin so she could maintain her magic. Then he reached out, but the dragon wasn’t injured enough to allow Malem to wrap his will around its mind, so he decided it was time to feed Balethorn again.

  Make sure it doesn’t move! Malem told the metals.

  All right, Sylfi sent. But watch its hind legs, and the tail!

  Mindful of the body parts she mentioned, Malem approached from the front right. Wendolin redirected some of the branches toward the hind legs and tail, and bound those loose appendages.

  Malem broke into a run; Balethorn droned hungrily. When he reached the dragon, he plunged the blade into its forearm, and allowed the sword to drink.

  The gray screamed, and flailed about in the grasp of those that pinned it. The movements only further agitated the wound, and the blade fed Malem more stamina.

  He withdrew it when he felt the creature’s will flagging, and fed most of the stamina to the three Metals that held down the dragon. He stepped back, and then reached out, wrapping his mind around the weakened monster, and Broke it. The dragon used twelve slots in his mind.

  “Release it,” Malem ordered. “The dragon is mine.”

  The three Metals let go of the gray, and stepped back. The dragon shook its head indignantly, and stood. The monster still seemed to be moving in slow motion, so he glanced at Grendel.

  “Cancel the buff,” he told her.

  The glow around her body subsided, and the gray dragon seemed to move at a more normal speed.

  It feigned a lunge at Sylfi, and she backed away in fright.

  “Easy,” Malem told the dragon. “What’s your name?”

  It looked at Malem and snarled. The gray opened its mouth to breathe that liquid iron at him, so Malem drained stamina from the creature and instead, it collapsed.

  Motion drew Malem’s gaze to the right. Aurora was retreating down the trail at breakneck speed, a blur of crimson and black.

  “Brita, fetch Aurora,” Malem said.

  The chromium nodded, and took to the air.

  He returned his attention to the gray.

  Blood oozed from the wound in its legs, so he glanced at Weyanna. “Heal it.”

  Weyanna released streams of white mist into the two sword wounds Malem caused, and stitched them up.

  “Where did Goldenthall go?” Gwen said while she worked. “Did you see that portal? Did it open to the Black Realm?”

  “I believe that was the realm of Light,” Grendel said. “Of Paragons.”

  “Paragons?” Xaxia said. “Won’t they kill the Balor?”

  “Probably,” Grendel agreed.

  Brita returned, carrying Aurora struggling in her talons. The chromium deposited the crimson-robed woman on the scree next to the trail and landed on the sloping surface beside her. The dragon’s weight caused Brita to slide several yards down that scree, and Aurora was nearly buried in it—Brita had to scoop her up again, and this time set her down on the terrace.

  Aurora scowled at Brita, and then Malem, and turned her back on everyone. He could tell from her energy bundle that she was weeping.

  Malem didn’t have time to deal with her right then. He returned his gaze to the gray.

  “What is your name?” Malem tried again.

  The healed dragon promptly stood up, and then struggled in his mental grasp.

  So Malem drained stamina again.

  The creature promptly collapsed.

  “Zachorius Arlantius Malfeasiansor the Third,” the gray wheezed, lying there on the ground.

  “I’ll call you Zach,” Malem said.

  The dragon grunted in annoyanc
e.

  12

  “Did you help Goldenthall, Zach?” Malem asked the dragon.

  “Who?” Zach said.

  “The man with the eyes of black mist,” Malem said.

  “You mean Banvil?” the gray said. “He left a certain artifact in my possession, yes. Years ago. I never expected the demon to return to retrieve it, however, as I relocated my den here to the Tetranite mountains, and left no trace behind. I can’t tell you how many trips it took me to transfer my hoard from the Khroma mountains. I wasted a good portion of a year.”

  “What is this artifact?” Malem asked.

  “The Luminsol,” Zach said. “A ring. It can carry its bearer to the Light Realm. For a price.”

  “And what is the price?” Malem asked.

  Zach shrugged. “That is negotiated between the bearer and the ring. It can be used only once per bearer.”

  “So how does Banvil plan to return?” Malem asked.

  “I don’t know?” Zach replied. “He doesn’t?”

  Malem glanced at Wendolin. “Could he be planning to conquer the Light Realm?”

  The tree elf frowned. “I don’t think so. A lone Balor, especially one of his reduced strength, is no match for even a single Paragon. I’m not sure why he’d journey there in the first place: by traveling to the Light Realm, he’s essentially committing suicide.”

  “Actually, they won’t kill him,” Grendel said. “So as not to disturb the balance. But they will banish him to the Black Realm, likely by physically destroying his current vessel. Still…” She tapped her lips. “If he stays hidden inside his vessel, it’s possible the Paragons won’t even know he’s arrived,” Grendel said. “He could stay there for years, centuries perhaps, slowly recouping his strength, unnoticed.”

  Wendolin nodded. “It’s the perfect place for Banvil to recover. None of the other Balors would ever think to look for him there. Not that they could actually travel to the Light Realm, even if they did.”