Dargonfire: Age of Legend

by LJ Davies

  "The princess is right, old friend, you should make ready before dawn."

  The Elder remained silent, then nodded and departed.

  I watched him and the fiery bird leave, waiting for his long tail to snake around the corner before glancing back to the Cartographer.

  "Come, walk with me," he proposed, motioning to another of the arches.

  I hesitated for a moment, unsure whether I could, or even wanted to take him up on the offer. However, I'd just told them the truth I feared more than anything, and if there was something he knew that could save all I cared about, I had to know. So I followed him out along ever-longer corridors and stairways that wound their way under the ruins, mixing with natural caves, caverns and walk ways.

  Some were collapsed, and after a short time, we approached a set of small stairs leading up onto the walls of the fort. To my right, the old ramparts met the cliffside walkway I'd walked on with Zephyra. While to the left, it curved around the front of the keep. Directly ahead, it wound out over the shore of the lake, meeting a small isle of snowy grass and pebbles before curving back slightly.

  At its end was the ruined shell of a tower that looked to have been some form of signal fire. It seemed lonely, cast out into the cold as if the rest of the fortress didn't care for it. Even so, the Cartographer began to walk toward the crumbling extension, and I reluctantly followed. The moon had shed its cloudy veil, allowing majestic blue light to radiate down over the lake’s icy waters as it illuminated my escaping breath like a ghost.

  It may not be the midnight plains, but the moon here is so beautiful.

  Icicles and mounds of snow-covered rocks sparkled like glass, as if to add to the glittering display of the stars. The only break in the tranquillity was the darkness amidst the mountains and the flames of braziers dotted over the shore at our backs. From which, radiated the sound of hammering metal and laboured exertions. Amongst it all, I could hear the singing and the rhythm of merriment as many of the creatures celebrated.

  So much for resting? I thought to myself as I glanced back.

  "I'm sure that this, for many, will be the last chance to have such a time," my guide commented as he noticed my attention was diverted.

  I shuddered at the thought and turned back to see we were standing before the ruined beacon, like two fallen leaves cast adrift on the water. I peered up at the crumbling stonework, overcome by vegetation and snow, then my head sank as I realised just how right he was.

  The old dragon seemed all too aware of the effects of his comment – avoiding the deaths that were certain to come at dawn wasn't an option. Yet I didn't know if I was sad or angry as I realised that it was nothing new to him.

  "Of course, for many, it will also be a day of glory," he added.

  He peered out over the calm water, ruffling the satchel containing the book that had led me to the truth. Yet I didn't manage to recover any joy from knowing that.

  How can I think even a single positive thought on a night like this?

  "No, you fool, tell him what you told all the others. You know it is right," the Cartographer's second voice muttered, sounding somewhat reasonable for the first time ever.

  That caused my attention to perk, and I stared at him as he sighed.

  "We cannot pretend to know how you feel," he began, eyes fixed on the inky darkness. "We have lived for millennia, and yet throughout all we have seen, we see that one's soul is what cannot be lost," he told me sincerely, surprisingly sympathetic.

  "Who are you?" I asked once again, knowing there was no longer any hiding behind secrets.

  A dragon that does nothing but map knowledge in an archive can't be capable of all of this mayhem.

  He seemed to acknowledge my summation as he glanced my way, one half seemingly surprised I'd asked, the other honoured.

  "We are old, very old, far older than any dragon should be, old enough to know tales that have become myth, and to have seen many legends unfold before our eyes," he explained.

  My mind fought to dismiss the idea; he was mad, I knew that for sure, but as he'd demonstrated, he was far from useless. He was one of the major reasons I was here, be that for better or worse. As I inwardly debated, he glanced down at the gold segments adorning my wings and tail.

  "Etherium gold, arcane armour forged by the star dragons of old," he commended admirably, eyes glowing like gems.

  I felt the urge to shift it from his sight, but a combination of it being a futile gesture and the way he looked at the magical metal, subdued the idea.

  "Who are you, really?" I pressed.

  "One of the few to see the dawn of our kind, we are a first-born dragon," he answered, his eyes fixed on mine, and all but his wisest tone fell completely silent.

  I may have mistaken him for one of Dardien's Elders, if not for his twitching tail and muzzle. Yet I shook my head, knowing it wasn't the answer I was after, and not offending him was off my list of concerns this time.

  "So... you're one of the first dragons?" I pressed and both of his personalities seemed intent on taking time to contemplate the eternally distant memory.

  "We once told you that it was beyond our memory," he explained, his second voice scoffing at the idea. "And for the most part, we were honest, which is why we gave you the tome of the Fallen Star – it was a record of many events to transpire over the twilight of the last age, before the Darkness, before the dawn of the Dark Guardians," he explained.

  My eyes narrowed as my mind began to work on his words and fragments of my memories fell slowly into place.

  "You're one of them, aren't you, one of the star dragons that became mortal?" I challenged.

  "No, not entirely. We were hatched in the years after the ancestors liberated this world, long after the Age of Tyranny and Goldfire's original sacrifice," he explained, voice trailing off as he looked to his claws. "Our father was of the stars, our mother of the mortal drakaran, we were born of both worlds."

  So he's half star dragon? I thought, still putting things together as he continued.

  "We differ little from mortal kind, as we are bound to the elements, just like our mother. However, a first-born life is not the same as a star dragon's immortality, since we grow weary and tire without death, unlike the ancestors of gold," he sighed, looking past his foreclaws as if his reflection in the water were a ghost.

  "Enishra, our great legacy," he mumbled, glancing up at the darkened mountains as if they were a grand gem in a treasury. "We do hope you do right by her, as they once did," he added with a smile, his second personality nodding in agreement.

  My eyes trailed up to the sky, almost as if I didn't deserve to look upon the treasure on which I stood.

  "You know there's a way to stop him, don't you?" I stated, while inside I hoped and begged for an answer that would prove me wrong.

  "There will come a time of sacrifice, such things face us all. No matter what you believe or what you're told by your gods, mortal or otherwise, you stand here as you – and it is you who must choose."

  "How could I have even let any of this happen?" I confessed with a weak sigh. "I should be dead, and he should have been locked away in the sphere forever," I added, recalling Mordrakk's revelation about the first time we'd fought millennia previously.

  The Cartographer peered at me, almost as if angered that I'd think such a thing.

  "And give up your life, all you have? If that were so, you would not have all that you have fought for: your friends, family… love," his voice faded for a moment.

  "It was never my life, though, was it? It's just his last hope at victory. I'm nothing more than what I was made to be," I stated, and again he appeared frustrated.

  "The same could be said for any of us, but we choose to make ourselves more. You can beat him because of the very fact that you are more, and if that were not so, you would be no different from an ebon wing," he continued, jabbing at my shoulder with his staff.

  How different from them am I really? They're slaves to Mordrakk, I'm a slave to
the creators? Even so, I tried to force a smile, but it ultimately wilted.

  "If he's right, are we all so different in the end?" I asked, the image of the orkin coming to mind, followed by the heated debate back in the council chamber.

  "The creators make blunt accusations of those they see as nothing more than toys. Yes, mortal kind are fleeting, savage and unruly, but they are also loyal, kind and caring – you know this better than most. That is why you are more than they are, because you feel, you think, you see more, and you truly care," he stated matter-of-factly.

  "An immortal being can never see the world like that, which is why, when the time comes, you can overcome even the Great Master," he went on, gesturing out to the darkness with a forepaw.

  "This night is a testament to that, the longest night of winter. Upon this night, the tyranny of the Overlords was conquered. The night upon which the first dragonfire was lit," he explained, as if it were some kind of fairy-tale. "We too have looked upon the stars, and the same image that greets us every night would have greeted Seraphine, as it does all dragons."

  "Mordrakk thinks freedom is what makes us weak." He glanced at me knowingly. "That is the Darkness speaking through him. We doubt the true Great Master would agree. But what do you believe?"

  "I think they're all wrong."

  "For what they did to you?" he asked, but I shook my head.

  "No, for how they treat everyone, even those who follow them."

  He smiled.

  "And yet those who follow you...?"

  "They never should have," I interrupted before he could finish. "I've already cost one of them everything and the rest a great deal because of what I did."

  "I see, the ebon wing troubles you?"

  What, how does he...? At that, I didn't care what he knew or how he knew it.

  I didn't know whether it was anger, sorrow, fear or weakness, but at the mention of Pyro, I felt completely powerless.

  "No! I saw him die, and it haunts me every day. I know he's gone, I'm just afraid it will..." My words faded.

  "Happen to everyone else?" he questioned.

  "The truth is, the idea of my friends dying is not the only thing that scares me. I am terrified that, given the choice, they'll abandon me like Aries. I know Mordrakk would do anything to them to break me, that's why I cannot stop him, not with them at my side."

  The Cartographer didn't seem to have any words to dissuade my horror, and I respected that he remained silent instead of feeding me false hope.

  "It is a feeling that no god could ever have, to fear the loss of those who you hold most dear. It makes you more than them, and while we know you may not listen to us or the other Elders, you should listen to your own feelings," he advised, patting my shoulder with a wing as he moved by and added.

  "Fear not the dawn, do not pity those who would follow you to it. Know, that pity should be directed to those that would stand in your way." He offered a smile, his second personality muttering about how many orkin were going to learn that lesson.

  I gave him a weak nod as he disappeared back into the keep, leaving me alone in the cold.

  How can I believe him, how can I think he's right? I took one last glance back at the camp, the sounds of merriment persisting. My pity's right where it should be: all the lives lost because of me, because I've failed so many times.

  I couldn't let any of them do this, not the Elders, the princess and especially not my friends. I was the immortal champion of the creators, the weapon the gods crafted to save their mortal creations. I'd no care for that responsibility or for that which Mordrakk had charged me. I knew one thing though.

  I have to save them alone.

  *

  Soft snow slowly parted under my weight as I set down amidst the trees, cold wind blowing as my wings settled at my flanks. The night air felt still about me, and not even the trees rustled as I glanced about. The torch light and merry din drifted across the calm waters of the icy lake behind me, but as far as I could tell, no one had followed me.

  I was leaving them again, just as I always sought to, only now there was no stopping what had been set in motion. I was the only one who was going to die because of this war. I would tear through the whole orkin army, if I had to, and battle anyone that got between the temple and I. After that, I'd have to figure out exactly what the pillar of fire was and how to use it, but given my experience with shards of its kind, I didn't expect that would present too much difficulty.

  As for Balgore's forces? I was immortal and had the power of a god. I'd become a daemon to the Brazen Warlord himself and I would live up to that name. My only other concern was Mordrakk’s desire for the amulet. I'd no intention of hunting it down or letting any of them take it. That self-assurance gave me even more incentive to do this on my own, sparing every life in camp.

  "You would trust this new power; one you know nothing of?" the dark fiend's rasping voice questioned.

  I looked to see him sitting on a crooked branch to my right, fiery eyes peering at me as if I were more a fool than he'd previously thought.

  "I don't, but I do trust myself, and if I'm as powerful as we both know I am, there's no need for them to act in my place."

  "Then why even consider it?" he asked.

  I opened my muzzle to respond, faltering before I spoke.

  "You know you can't win this without embracing your whole self," he interjected, a flash of fire taking the shape of my amulet within his wicked claws.

  I turned sharply, flinging snow into his illusion, which faded only to reform before me.

  "You should go, give up. Go back to them and revel in their false merriment!" he growled.

  I staggered back, my paws slipping in the snow as I stumbled. He recoiled, his tail and wings curling about him.

  "Why do you even care what I do?" I asked, but his smile grew slightly.

  "What will you do?" he countered.

  My eyes locked onto his as my scars burned.

  "I'm going to destroy him; I’m going to destroy Mordrakk," I stated, without a single doubt.

  Yet he didn't flinch, not even a hint of shock crossed his expression before he mockingly snorted a jet of embers.

  "A very bold ambition, one I think you were never intended for, and yet you have wanted it since the beginning," he began, moving toward me. "All of that anger you have harboured, the frustration that your life was never yours to live. First you blame the Elders, then the Sovereign, my own children, as I did, and yet all those times you were unable to unleash that rage..." His lecture was cut short as I swatted his smoky form aside with my wing.

  "You can't stop me," I hissed.

  "I have no need; for once we agree on something. The Darkness must die," he responded, reforming on top of a jagged stump. "But tell me, what will become of all of this, should you succeed? You cannot hide from the truth forever," he challenged, motioning to the camp with a foreclaw.

  I glanced away, thinking of my friends and my family, all of them consumed by the Darkness.

  Even if I win, there's still that truth; my own lie will surely turn them against me, just like Pyro.

  "I still won't let them charge into battle because of me," I stated, and he looked at me as if the argument was becoming pitiful.

  "You can keep saying that, but you will not stop them from following you – that is a curse you brought solely upon yourself," he assured. "Besides, they are no strangers to battle," he added with a sly grin.

  "Oh, and you'd know all about that," I snapped.

  "I would not, nor would I care for it if I did, for their kind is still weak," he responded, as if insulted.

  "Then tell me, why corrupt dragons? You have your vulpomancers, so why not just kill them instead of making ebon wings?" I asked, and once again, he looked disgusted by my comparison between him and the Mordrakk commanding Pyro.

  "Their kind is an ancient design, moulded in my image. Do you not wonder why my children take such forms, why their drakaran servants look as they do?" he q
uestioned, his flaming eyes narrowing. "They have been diluted over the millennia, but they are still the best conduit through which the Darkness may spread its influence," he explained, frowning at me as if I were a chick who'd failed to listen so many times before.

  "Perfect for killing, you mean," I added with an air of unease.

  "That's just it though, isn't it? I never wished to kill you, nor did your fallen friend. He just wanted you to lead him home," he added with a cynical tone, and with a flash of smoke, he vanished.

  Home? what does...? I looked at the camp as my heart jumped into my mouth.

  Without thought, I burst into the air, scattering snow from my paws as I rushed across the water. Like some cruelly arranged plan, perfectly timed and targeted, I saw a dark shape slash across the starry reflection below. Beating my wings harder, I opened my muzzle to shout out, but it was too late. It hit me like a knife from the dark, slamming into me with such force that, if not for my armour, my whole skeleton would have shattered.

  The pain doubled as I struck the shore, landing in shallow water by the island’s pebbled beach. I staggered, but before I could move, something landed over me and a sharp claw forced my head against the rocks.

  "Leaving so soon?" a horrifically familiar voice asked, and as I looked up, I stared into the purple, fiery eyes of the black dragon I'd led right to his target.

  Chapter 12

  The Truth

  "It seems that all that time alone has done nothing to dampen your observational skills," Pyro sneered, lowering his fanged muzzle to the left of my head as he whispered into my ear. "I must admit, while seeing you make a mockery of Sceptre and watching you dance about this place completely oblivious was most entertaining, I think it is time we stopped with the games."

  Thrashing, I was no better than a beached fish under his metal claw. I could almost feel the glee radiating from him as I glimpsed the reflection of his glowing eyes in the water.

  He's too strong to fight like a normal dragon. Just calm down and think!

  I fell limp, and then with one great flap of my wings, I flipped up, blades sparking into life as I slashed at him. He leapt back as I stumbled to my paws; fixing me with a glare, lowering his body and baring his sharp teeth.