by C. M. Hayden
“Two hours?” Taro exclaimed. “Just how big is this place?”
“The complex extends for many miles. In addition, some corridors have collapsed or are otherwise inaccessible.”
Before they began, Fenn handed Taro Craetos’s Journal. “Here,” he said. “I feel like you guys will need this more than me.”
“Thanks,” Taro said, tucking it away.
“Please,” Fenn said. “Try not to die.”
Kurian took position in front of the wall of ichor; Taro took the space to his right, Lokír to his left. Taro took a deep breath, and waited as Kurian focused.
As had happened before, his chest glowed from the inside. The hot glow ran up his throat, and erupted in a flurry of intense flames. It barely touched the ichor before an ear-shattering screech filled the halls. It was so intense, that even with his ears covered with the palms of his hands, Taro felt like the noise would split his head in two.
The ichor rattled and hissed, receding into tears in the walls. Kurian pushed forward, incinerating the ichor as he walked. Taro and Lokír followed, slashing away any tendrils that remained. As they moved further into the hall, the ichor began to spring up behind them, blocking their retreat. Forward was the only way to go, so forward they went.
As they reached the end of the hall, Taro could see the effect the constant barrage of fire was taking on Kurian. He’d never seen Kurian tired in any way. But now, sweat was pouring from his face, and his normally pale skin was red and wet. His hair was drenched, and his eyes were dark. His limbs shook, and he seemed to have serious trouble standing. Nevertheless, he fought through it until the three of them were on the other side.
Clear of the hallway, Kurian fell face forward onto the hard glass floor with a thud.
Taro rushed to his side, jostling his shoulder. “Kurian!” he shouted.
Kurian rolled onto his back, a jaunty smile on his face, though it was obvious he was smiling despite the stress put on his body. “See?” he said. “I told you I could do it…I can do anything.”
Taro smiled back. “I never doubted you.” He paused. “Think you can stand?”
“Anything except that,” Kurian said, coughing.
Steam was coming off Kurian’s slick skin. Taro touched the back of his hand to the dragon’s cheek, and had to pull away. His flesh was hot like an oven.
“Are you going to be all right?” Taro asked, not sure what to do.
Kurian’s words came slow. “I…I don’t know.” Swallowing hard, he turned around again, this time onto his side. “Just…give me a minute.”
Chapter Forty-four
King of Dragons
A TWO-HOUR journey might not be a long time to travel in the open air—compared to the distance they’d traveled across the mountains, it was a brisk walk at best—but in the dark, with only Taro’s templar to light the way, it was a different story altogether.
Kurian wasn’t getting much better, either. It seemed to be some form of aftershock. After an hour, he was still unable to stand, and wasn’t his normal self. It was clear he’d taxed his body more than was wise.
“I know what those looks mean,” Kurian said, his chest heaving. Taro realized he and Lokír had, indeed, been staring at him. “Just go on without me. I’ll catch up as soon as I can.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Taro said firmly.
“Vexis will be here soon. You have to get the Deeplight before that happens.”
Lokír knelt beside Kurian, and tucked his hands under the boy. “Taro-sin is correct. You are too important to be left behind.”
Kurian shrugged him off. “Listen, I’m flattered that your people think so highly of the dragonkin, but I’ve got news for you. We’re not that great. Some of us are actually more cowardly and dishonorable than you give us credit for.”
Lokír lifted Kurian up, and swung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Perhaps, Kurian-ata, but neither ‘dishonorable’ nor ‘cowardly’ describe you.”
“You don’t know me that well. How can you be sure?”
“You’re braving the depths with us. You could’ve fled at any time you wished, but you’ve chosen to stay by our side. You can’t expect us to leave yours. I will carry you into the very heart of Arkos, if needs be.”
Taro used the Eye of Sethetrion for a few brief seconds to get a lay of the area before him. It pierced through the darkness, and he saw that it was a vast chamber, hundreds of yards across. In front of them was a chasm so deep that, even with the Eye, Taro couldn’t see the bottom. There were chains bolted into the stone walls that supported a long bridge to the other side. Each chain was supported by an immense bronze dragon statue.
“Let’s move,” Taro said to Lokír.
Taro felt a warm updraft as they stepped onto the bridge, as if there was a great pool of magma churning miles beneath their feet. They inched across the bridge in darkness, using only the feel of the bridge’s handrail to guide their way. This proved to be a bad idea, as about three quarters of the way across the bridge, Taro felt his hand touch an oozing mass of fleshy ichor. It clung to his hand like glue, and reeked of rotten flesh. He wiped it off as quickly as he could, wincing in disgust.
“What is it?” Kurian asked weakly.
Taro looked at him, and noticed that for the first time, his yellow eyes no longer shone. “Is your true sight not working?”
Kurian shook his head. “I’m trying to conserve my energy.”
“Well, it’s nothing, just more of that muck. It got on my hand.”
“I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.”
“Thanks, I hadn’t planned on it.” As he spoke, the bridge trembled slightly, and a few rock fragments pattered onto it. Taro picked up some of the pieces and looked up at the dark ceiling. There was nothing there but jagged stalactites and bits of machinery running through the rock.
“What is it, Taro-sin?” Lokír asked, leering upward.
Taro sifted the bits of rock between his fingers. “Nothing, I…I thought I saw something move.”
When Taro took another step forward, more dust and rocks fell from the ceiling, pattering onto the metal bridge like raindrops on a tin roof. There followed a strange metallic chittering, a sound like metal scraping against stone. It was a familiar noise, but Taro couldn’t place it for the life of him. Taro looked up again with true sight shining through the darkness.
He saw what was moving across the walls and ceiling of the cavern: constructs.
Not the spherical constructs from before. These were the monstrous variety as the one Taro had encountered on his first trial long ago, and again at the Bórhiemdr. Even now, they reminded him of a cross between a spider and a scorpion, each with metal pincers large enough to take off a head, and a ridged back with visible gears clinking inside of them.
The biggest difference was in sheer numbers. Both times he’d encountered these kinds of constructs, there had been only one of them. Here there were hundreds. They were swarming out of holes in the rock, skittering across the walls, their metallic feet clamping into it and sending fragments of stone falling onto the bridge below.
They didn’t attack. In fact, they barely moved once they’d found a perch on the ceiling.
Taro moved slowly, putting his finger to his lips in a shushing motion, but when he turned around, he saw both Kurian and Lokír staring up. Kurian’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and Lokír, while maybe not grasping just how many there were, clearly noticed they were there.
“Do we go back?” Taro whispered, his voice cracking with fear.
“I don’t know,” Kurian whispered. He didn’t sound much better.
“These must be part of the ‘security countermeasures,’” Taro said.
“That’s good, then, right?” Kurian asked, not sounding too sure.
At h
is words, one of the constructs fell from the ceiling, landing hard onto the bridge. Despite the fact that it must’ve weighed a few tons, the machine was incredibly light on its feet, and skittered across the bridge with astonishing speed before stopping just a few yards in front of them.
It truly was the spitting image of the construct he’d faced in his Magisterium trial; the main difference was that this one was covered in the red ichor. It seeped into its frame, covered its right glass eye, and sprawled across its back. Its one good eye zeroed in on Taro, and it moved forward gingerly, as if it weren’t sure precisely what they were.
“In…” it said in a harsh metallic voice.
“Oh, shit,” Taro said, backing up.
“…truuuuuuuud…”
“Back, back back!” Taro shouted frantically.
“…eeeeeeers. INTRUDERS.”
Several things happened in that moment. The construct charged forward, its pincers drawn, snapping and biting at the air as it moved. Though Lokír made a motion at running, he must’ve realized there was no hope of outrunning the construct, and dropped Kurian onto the bridge, drawing his axe.
The construct stabbed its pincer at Taro’s throat, but Lokír deflected it and bashed the creature’s eye with the metal base of the handle. Momentarily phased, the construct stood on its hind legs and slashed at Lokír with each of its eight arms. The blows set the bridge swaying, and it was all Taro could do not to fall off into the bottomless chasm below.
Lokír blocked the construct’s pincer with his axe, and shoved a dagger into its mouth, causing it to scream and chitter. Amazingly, he was able to hold it still for several moments. Whether he’d damaged some internal mechanism, or was just that strong, Taro couldn’t say.
Lokír glanced back, struggling against the construct’s immense strength. “What are you two waiting for?” he shouted. “Run!”
“But—” Taro began.
“RUN!” Lokír commanded.
Taro helped Kurian up. The dragon seemed to have found some strength, at least enough to walk. They darted past the construct, and moved toward the other side of the bridge as fast as Kurian’s injuries would allow. Before they got to the end, the construct broke free and slashed Lokír across the chest. His leather armor seemed to take most of the cut, but the force of the slash nearly threw him from the swaying bridge.
Lokír’s heavy body smacked into the handrail, and he clenched the cut on his leather chest piece, as if checking for a wound. His axe had fallen onto the walkway, but when he reached for it, the construct swept it away.
There followed an intense struggle. With his axe out of reach, and his dagger imbedded in the creature’s mouth, Lokír had only his bare hands. He ducked and weaved away from the majority of the construct’s attacks, moving much more quickly than his large body would seem to allow. He didn’t run from it—in fact, he seemed to be moving closer, trying to find an opening. When the creature lunged again, he seized it by the eye. He took his right hand, grabbed hold of the dagger imbedded into it, and pulled it along the construct’s head.
The creature pulled back, swiping and slashing Lokír, sending trails of blood running down his armor. However, Lokír held firm, pulling with one hand, and slashing with the other. In a startling feat of strength, he pulled so hard that he pulled the construct’s head clear off its body, wires and all. Gears exploded from the opening, falling out onto the bridge with a clank. The construct twitched and sputtered before falling down motionless.
A tension held in the air while Lokír glared down at the creature as if waiting for it to stir, but it never did.
Exhaustion plain on his face, Lokír dropped the construct’s head, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Taro was so dumbfounded by the display that a swift wind might’ve knocked him off his feet. It was all he could do not to cheer. He held a fist triumphantly into the air as Lokír limped his way to the other side of the bridge, cradling his wounded chest.
“I can’t believe that just happened!” Taro said, sounding like an awestruck child.
The celebration was short-lived. The other few hundred creatures began to crawl down the walls, swarming the statues and the bridge from multiple sides. They moved toward Taro, Kurian, and Lokír with deadly purpose. The only way out was forward, toward the core, but they were stopped by a tall barred gate, this one with complicated locking runes identical to those Taro had broken in Helia Edûn.
“Taro,” Kurian said, gesturing at the enchantments on the door.
It’d taken two minutes to break the ones on Kadia’s door, but as the hordes of ichor-covered constructs poured down the bridge, Taro doubted he had that long.
He fumbled with his inscriber, moving between each ward and ley, severing the connections one by one.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” he repeated as his fingers danced. He glanced back, seeing the sea of constructs rushing toward them.
“Don’t look this way,” Kurian shouted. “Focus on the door!”
Taro hurried, but he could hear the approaching constructs moving closer, and realized he simply didn’t have enough time. There was no running. There was no fighting. This was the end.
But, as he braced himself, the constructs suddenly stopped moving. Taro glanced back, and saw them standing still as statues on the bridge. Taro kept working on the gate, watching the constructs with dogged curiosity from the corner of his eye.
Suddenly, the cavern rumbled. It sent the bridge swaying, and caused heavy rocks to fall from the ceiling, crashing into some of the constructs. Sharp fragments landed just a few inches away from Taro, but moving wasn’t an option.
On the opposite end of the bridge, two fierce yellow eyes appeared from the darkness. They were as bright as the sun, and glaring across the cavern like fog lights on the open sea. They broke through the blackness in an unnatural way, piercing shadow and dust. The creature they belonged to was not human. It had humanlike features—arms, legs, and the like—but it also sported two enormous dragon wings. Its wings stretched from one side of the cavern to the other, and both had jagged, gaping holes and exposed bone.
The man the wings belonged to was an abomination of nature. He was clad in hard, black armor that covered most of his body. The parts that were visible were rotting and dead. Maggots and worms infested his peeling flesh, with bits of muscle and bone poking through his scales and skin. There was an aura around him, like fire and shadow; it trailed behind him as he stepped onto the bridge.
Kurian stared at him from across the chasm, his eyes looking the undead dragon over with heavy eyes. He spoke a single, quiet word. “Grandfather?”
It seemed to be the case. This shambling creature was Craetos; even in undeath, he could change forms just like any other dragon.
The constructs had completely forgotten about Taro and the others, and crawled toward Craetos. As one neared him, the brood-king drew his greatsword and slashed it to pieces. The construct exploded, shattering as if it were made of glass.
Taro finished off the last rune, and the enchantment on the bars fell away. “Done!” he said.
More constructs charged at Craetos, slashing and chomping at him, but each was thrown by the wayside, or brought to heel with a single swing. The undead king walked calmly onto the bridge, his eyes staring directly at Kurian. But when the constructs kept coming, dozens at a time, Craetos paused momentarily, extended his arms and wings, and transformed into his full, monstrous dragon form. He was as enormous as he was the night he’d destroyed the Eventide, and his skin was still a patchwork of mismatched flesh and tendons. The strange glow inside his chest lit the room in odd hues of red and purple, like a reflection of firelight through ice.
He drew up, extending his wings out further, and fire began to build in his chest. Kurian acted reflexively, grabbing Taro and hurling him through the open metal grate as the fire
erupted in a wave. For a brief moment, the cavern was as bright as a summer day.
When Taro opened his eyes, he saw Kurian covering Lokír with his body, and the wailing cries of a hundred burning constructs assaulted his ears. Many had been incinerated instantly, others were burning or in various stages of melting. The few that remained chittered away, retreating, leaving only Craetos’s massive form looming on the bridge.
Kurian helped Lokír up. “Are you okay?” he asked him.
Lokír nodded, patting away a few strands of his burning beard. “I’ll live.”
“Come on,” Taro said, ushering them both. “We have to run!”
Kurian nodded, helping Lokír through the grate, but instead of going through himself, he slammed it shut and melted the frame together.
“What are you doing?” Taro asked, pulling at the bars. “We have to go!”
Kurian’s breathing was heavy, and his voice trembled. “You’ll never outrun him,” he said.
“Kurian!” Taro shouted, reaching through the bars.
Craetos moved forward, his hulking footsteps causing the cavern to shake. His wings scraped the ceiling, causing an avalanche of rubble.
“You don’t have to do this,” Taro shouted.
Despite his obvious distress, Kurian managed a smile. Reaching out, he grabbed Taro by the hand. “I regret not meeting you sooner, Taro. It’s been fun.”
Kurian clenched his fist, and turned to face Craetos. He looked like little more than a spec against the hulking monstrosity before him.
Breathing heavily, Kurian looked back at Taro one last time. “I know what Kyra sees in you, Taro. Take care of her for me. Tell her…tell her…” He paused. “Tell her this isn’t the end.”
Kurian raised his arms, and assumed his full dragon form. He stepped onto the bridge opposite Craetos, and they locked horns. Kurian was hardly three quarters the size of Craetos, and managed to get his head underneath the undead dragon’s exposed collar bone and release a flurry of fire directly into his chest.
