Dragon Slayer 4

by Michael-Scott Earle

  “We all will,” I said. “We’ll do whatever we can to keep you safe. You have my word.”

  After a moment, she nodded. “Very well. I will come with you. I will guide you through Emerald Deep to the Mistresses and Curym, even though every instinct is telling me that it is foolishness.”

  I grinned and straightened. “Sometimes, doing the crazy thing is the key to success.”

  “Like when you jumped off a palace roof onto a dragon’s back,” Nyvea purred in my mind. “Or when you decided to trust a dragon with the power you’d taken from them.”

  I offered her my arm. “If you’re ready, what say we get this mission on the road?”

  Letharia actually smiled as she threaded her arm through mine. “I’m up for it,” she said. “As long as I’ve got you and the others to watch my back, I’m willing to try a bit of your crazy.”

  I chuckled. “Crazy, I can do.” I escorted her back to where Rizzala, Arieste, and Irenya waited. “Letharia’s got what we need. Let’s go kick some blue dragon ass!”

  Chapter Four

  I helped Letharia onto Irenya’s back, then took my place in front of Arieste as Rizzala clambered into her seat behind the dark-haired woman.

  “You did good with her, Ethan,” Arieste said in a low voice. “Calming her fears like that.”

  “You heard all that?” Heat rose to my face.

  “Of course we did.” Arieste chuckled. “You tend to talk louder when you’re waxing passionate and going on one of your heroic speeches.” Her arms tightened around my waist and she squeezed tighter. “But you were right about what you said to her. About regret and second chances. It’s thanks to you that I have a second chance. That all of us have a second chance, for that matter.”

  “You’re the one who showed me that dragons weren’t all evil,” I replied. “You set the standard for the others to follow. In many ways, you’re the real hero here. I’m just the guy who has the magic you want.”

  “And the body we want.” Arieste’s hands roamed toward my belt, and I felt myself stiffen in response. “I’m expected a piece of that for myself before too long. Or else.”

  I tensed as her fingertips suddenly grew icy, and a shiver of mingled pleasure and cold ran down my spine.

  “First chance we get, I promise.” I told her.

  “I’m holding you to that,” she purred.

  “Ooh, she can’t get enough of you, handsome!” Nyvea whispered. “I told you your dick was magical. Both the fire and ice dragon are getting restless for you. The time has come for you to have both at the same time. It’s the only way to solve this delicious dilemma!”

  With a grin, I gripped Irenya’s spikes tighter as the red dragon prepared to take off. She took one lumbering step, crouched, and leapt high into the air. A few flaps of her mighty wings bore us aloft, and within seconds, we were gaining altitude and speed. The wind rushed through my hair and set my clothes flapping as Irenya banked toward the east, in the direction I knew we’d find Emerald Deep.

  As we flew over Zaddrith’s swamplands, I realized the terrain had a strange beauty to it. Sunlight glimmered off the water covering the surface of Iriador, and the tops of the towering trees painted the land with deep, lush green and brown. We were high enough to escape the smell of decayed vegetation that permeated the ground below, so there was just the beauty of the view without the taint of rot.

  The extent of Zaddrith’s land surprised me. To my knowledge, Riamod had been the dragon with the largest territory, but the wetlands of the green dragon stretched for hundreds of miles to the north and south. It took Irenya nearly half an hour of fast flying before she reached the eastern border of the bogs.

  I recognized Curym’s domains the moment we entered. The swamps gave way to deeper marshes, then the eastern coastline of the continent of Iriador. Pristine white and red sand beaches stretched from north to south as far as I could see. Dozens of small islands formed an archipelago that, from our aerial vantage point, looked an awful lot like a checkers board mid-game.

  According to Letharia, Emerald Deep was located on the largest island, which also happened to be the easternmost land mass in the archipelago. As we streaked toward our destination, the view of the deep blue ocean and the tree-covered islands reminded me of the one time I’d visited Hawaii. No wonder the people of Emerald Deep had chosen to make their home out here. The distance from Iriador would keep it out of the mainland conflicts, and the people who occupied the islands could find peace and safety in their isolation.

  Of course, that isolation hadn’t saved Emerald Deep when the land beneath it collapsed, or when Curym and her minions settled into the sunken city. The thought came as a harsh reminder of the truth: unity was our only hope of survival.

  I used the Mark of the Guardian to scan the ocean around the island. I felt hundreds of tiny magical pinpricks far below the water’s surface just off the northern coast, along with the unmistakable feeling of Curym’s water magic. It was like a riptide, ceaseless in its powerful churning.

  Irenya seemed to sense Curym’s presence as well, for she banked hard to the east to come at Emerald Deep from the south. The last thing we wanted was a direct confrontation with Curym now. She had the advantage, and even though she could probably sense our approach, she wouldn’t strike unless she felt directly threatened. According to Letharia, Curym was the smartest of the dragons, so I had to figure she’d believe she was safe in her watery depths. We couldn’t let her find out the truth until it was too late.

  Irenya skimmed the tops of the palm trees as she dipped toward the spot on the northern coast where Letharia had said we’d find the remains of Emerald Deep. Very little existed to indicate that a proud city had once stood along the edge of the island. The water had claimed everything, and only the tips of what looked like ancient towers protruded above the surface about a mile out into the ocean. Four black stone guardians stood sentinel over a civilization, culture, and people lost to time and the deeps.

  The waves crashed onto a grey sand beach, which rose to a gently inclined hill covered with yellowed beachgrass. Thousands of black stones dotted the hill, but as we approached, I realized they weren’t random rocks. They were headstones, thousands of them, the last testament to the people that had once lived in Emerald Deep.

  A single stone building stood at the pinnacle of the hill. Made of the same black stone that filled the graveyard, it reminded me an obsidian version The Field Museum back in Chicago, with its fluted columns, high arches, and shallow-peaked stone roof. Time and the elements had worn away all of the decorative flourishes that adorned the outside of the mausoleum, but the building itself had survived all these years.

  Irenya landed lightly on the open expanse of grass in front of the mausoleum, and she sniffed the air like a hound. “Don’t like the smell of this,” she growled. “Smells like old death.”

  “To the people of Emerald Deep, this is hallowed ground,” Letharia said as I helped her down from Irenya’s back. “Everyone from the king to the lowest-born beggar is buried here. The Elmentia believed that death made all men equals.”

  “The Elmentia were the people that lived here?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Letharia said. “From what I’ve read in some of the other tablets, they inhabited this island for close to two hundred years before the collapse of Emerald Deep.”

  “Just here?” I asked. “They only lived on this island, not on any of the others in the archipelago?”

  “Some of the tribes of the Elmentia sought to inhabit the other islands,” Letharia said, “but it seems this is the only one with fresh water and sufficient food to sustain a large number of people. The fact that they congregated in this city explains why few on the mainland know anything about them. They were simply forgotten by the kingdoms of Iriador and left to live their lives in peace.”

  I turned and studied the gravestones dotting the hill between us and the beach. There had to be at least thirty or forty thousand stones there. This was the sort of
place I’d expect to see ghoulins, Emroths’s zombie-looking minions. Yet there was only the warmth of the sun and the rustle of the swaying grass, no sign of life above ground anywhere.

  Which meant we needed to get under the ground.

  “I take it that mausoleum is the entrance to the crypts,” I said as I turned to Letharia.

  “Correct,” she said. “The Temple of Night, it was called. The priests of Emerald Deep did not worship the Goddesses, but instead worshipped another nameless god, one they claimed was older than the Three.”

  “Older than the Three Goddesses?” I asked. I didn’t know a lot about Agreon’s theology, but I remembered the story the priestesses had told during the ceremony in Windwall. “I heard the goddesses created the world from the nothingness of chaos. Did the priests worship that chaos?”

  “I do not know.” Letharia shook her head. “The tablets I have read contain much of the city’s history but little of its religion. What I do know is that the people of Emerald Deep rejected the Three Goddesses in favor of this nameless god. Perhaps inside the Temple of Night we will find more.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I turned to the others. Rizzala and Arieste had dismounted and walked up the broad marble stairs toward the temple doors, and Irenya was shifting nervously from foot to foot, her eyes fixed on the sea of gravestones.

  “Irenya, time to become human again.” I shot her a grin. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll fit into the temple in this body.”

  “We might need her help as a dragon first,” Rizzala called. “This door’s proving a bit tricky.”

  I hurried over to Rizzala and Arieste, who stood in front of the massive stone door into the temple. It was easily ten feet tall and fifteen wide, with no handles I could see, no visible locking mechanism, or even anything we could grab to pull.

  “Got anything in those tablets that can help us?” I asked Letharia. “Or anything you’ve read?”

  “Sorry,” she said with a shake of her head. “There’s nothing I can find on how to get into the crypts, though there’s plenty to help us once we’re inside.”

  I studied the door once more. I hated the idea of desecrating ancient ruins, but we had a job to do. The people of Emerald Deep would have to forgive us.

  “Do it,” I said as I turned to Irenya, who had lumbered up behind me. “Get it open.”

  “With pleasure,” Irenya growled.

  I motioned for Rizzala, Letharia, and Arieste to get away from the door, and backed away far enough that we wouldn’t get hit by any flying debris. Irenya turned away from the door, coiled up her tail, then whipped it out with the speed of a striking snake. The impact send a deep boom echoing through the temple, and a crack appeared in the surface of the thick stone door.

  “Again,” I said with a grin. “You’ve got this.”

  Irenya’s tail crashed into the stone once, twice, each time filling the mausoleum with a sound like cannon fire. On the third strike, the door gave way beneath her power and the stone crumbled inward as if it had been blasted by dynamite. Rocks clattered into the temple and dust billowed outward.

  “Yuck!” Letharia’s nose wrinkled at the smell that wafted out with the dust. It was the stench of old decay and rotting bones.

  “Just a fun little reminder that we’re going into a crypt,” I said with a grin. “Take a few deep breaths, and your nose will eventually get used to the smell.”

  I turned back to Irenya. “Ready?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she rumbled, and crouched on her forelegs so I could reach the gemstone set into her chest. The moment I touched the stone, I felt the raging inferno coursing through it. It was like plunging into a river of lava, and the power of the fire magic nearly staggered me. There was a reason Riamod had been bigger than the other dragons. Fire was, by far, one of the most powerful, unstoppable forces of nature. As a fireman, I knew that better than most.

  I drew in a deep breath and tugged on the fire magic. For a moment, it seemed to resist my efforts, as if it wanted to remain in the body of the red dragon. I was used to the sensation by now, and kept pulling until the magic flowed through the gemstone. Heat washed up my arms, into my chest, and flowed around deep within the core of my being as I pulled the magic back into myself. It swirled with the ice, acid, and darkness for a few stomach-turning moments before settling down, the heat fading to a low pulse within my veins.

  “As always, this really is my favorite part of the process,” said Irenya with a broad smile, and her eyes went to my hand nestled between her ample breasts. “Gets you thinking of some other fun we should be having a bit later, doesn’t it?”

  “Absolutely,” I said as I removed my hand and tucked the red gemstone into my pouch with the other three.

  Irenya was an absolute knockout, with a magnificent hourglass figure made even more beautiful by her gauzy red dress, full lips, and hair a brilliant red. Her smile was playful and a teasing look filled her amber-colored eyes. The fire magic that connected us had formed a bond of passion and emotion that we alone shared. I couldn’t put what I felt for Irenya into words, but I knew it was just as real as what Arieste and I had.

  While Irenya busied herself pulling on one of her low-cut red dresses, I turned back to Rizzala and Arieste, who stood over the packs we’d brought from Whitespire.

  “Time to gear up,” I said.

  “Gladly,” Rizzala replied. She hadn’t released her grip on the double-headed spear she’d wielded during the battle against Zaddrith and Curym. The weapon’s fire magic, courtesy of the red gemstone set into its handle, had come in handy when fighting the acid-blooded murlocs and serpents. I was interested to find out what would happen the fire magic came in contact with the merslayers and nagia.

  Rizzala pulled out five heavy cloaks and handed them to each of us. “It’s likely to be cold underground. Best of all, these will double as blankets or bedding when we rest.”

  Rest. I hadn’t thought of sleep or relaxation, I’d been so busy with the battle, the attack on Zaddrith, and now our hunt for Curym. Arieste and Irenya had flown to Windwall and back, and Rizzala had made the round trip to and from Zaddrtih’s lair. We would all need rest soon.

  For now, we’d make as much progress into the crypts as we could.

  Letharia flinched as Rizzala held out a small dagger. “No, thank you,” she said quickly. “I-I don’t fight.”

  Rizzala shot me a questioning look, and I shook my head. “We’ll do the fighting for you, Letharia. You’ve got one of our most valuable resources: the information that will get us where we need to go.”

  The dark-haired woman broke into a beaming grin. I caught Rizzala’s little eye roll, but she made no further comment as she tucked the dagger into her own belt.

  Arieste seemed equally disinclined to take weapons. “I don’t know how to wield a sword!” she said as Rizzala tried to hand her a slim fencing blade with a white gemstone set into its hilt.

  “And we don’t have the time to learn right now,” Irenya added with a shake of her head. “We’ll make do with our magic for now.”

  Rizzala’s face spoke volumes. As Emroth, her magic had been purely defensive, so she’d had to be a better fighter than the other dragons to stay alive. That mentality had remained now that she was human. Irenya and Arieste, though, could use their magic for both offense and defense. However, it couldn’t hurt for them to learn how to fight. I didn’t know much about swordplay, but I resolved that when we got back to Whitespire I’d ask Adath to teach them the basics.

  “Just bring the weapons,” I told Arieste and Irenya. “You never know when they’ll come in handy down there.” Survival 101 had taught me to always be prepared. If we were going to face nagias in hand-to-hand combat, we’d need every advantage, tool, and weapon we could get.

  I slung the heaviest pack over my shoulder, and Rizzala took the next heaviest. Letharia, of course, took the lightest. The stone tablets would add to her load, and she seemed to be the least athletic of the four. The less she had
to carry, the longer she’d be able to walk before getting tired.

  Rizzala produced three torches from within her pack and handed one each to me and Arieste. Irenya grinned as she summoned a spark of magic with a snap of her fingers, and the oil-soaked cloth quickly caught fire.

  “I’ll lead the way,” I said, and shot Rizzala a glance. “You bring up the rear, watch our backs?”

  Rizzala nodded. Her expression had grown suddenly somber, her eyes filled with the wariness I’d seen in Captain Daxos and the Blackguards as we prepared to enter the tunnels beneath Windwall. Rizzala was one of the only warriors in our party, and it seemed she was taking her role of protector very seriously. It was what had made her such a valuable ally in the defense of Whitespire. She had fought to save the lives of men, women, and children she had just met, an act that had more than earned my trust.

  I drew in my last breath of fresh air and stepped into the dusty, dark mausoleum. The torchlight stopped flickering as we entered the silent building, and it filled the interior with a soft glow. The room I’d entered looked like the inside of a Greek temple, with stone benches, more massive pillars of black stone, and a high-vaulted ceiling. The walls of the temple were covered in ancient carvings and more of the strange-looking writing on Letharia’s stone tablets.

  “Can you read it?” I asked the dark-haired woman and held the torch up to the nearest wall.

  Letharia came to stand beside me and squinted at the inscriptions, then shook her head. “This is no language I’ve ever seen before.”

  “It’s not the same as on the tablets?” I asked, surprised.

  “There are some similarities,” she replied, her brow furrowed into a frown, “but not enough that I can read it. Perhaps…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Perhaps what?” Arieste put in, and I could hear her eager curiosity.

  “Perhaps this is a language even older than the Elmentia’s tongue.” A hint of wonder echoed in her words. “I have heard of the language of the Goddesses, an old tongue of magic and power.” She turned to me with a piercing look. “The language of the runes on the door beneath Whitespire.”