The Arclight Saga

by C. M. Hayden

  Craetos reared back, bits of burning flesh falling away like dry autumn leaves, but he didn’t seem particularly phased by the gaping hole in his body. His flesh rumbled, and the bits of sinew and tendons grew between the hole and reformed his mismatched body.

  Kurian took a hard step back, shaking the bridge.

  His fear only seemed to grow when Craetos opened his mouth to speak. The dragon king’s voice was like an ocean filling the cavern, a low growl that made tears swell in Taro’s eyes. Everything about the voice made Taro want to run, to hide, to get as far away from this creature as he could.

  It was only then, when that terrible voice spoke, that Taro realized just how outmatched he was. Craetos wasn’t some simple dragon. He wasn’t a creature that could be beaten with swords or spears or arrows. Or even with magistry.

  Taro wasn’t standing in the presence of a dragon. He was standing in the presence of a god.

  “KURIAN,” Craetos roared, sending tremors reverberating through the underground.

  Their claws met, and they struggled, trying to push each other off the bridge.

  Kurian clenched his teeth. “Gramps, if there’s any part of you left in there, you have to fight. You’re stronger than this. Stronger than—”

  “THE CIRCLE MUST BE COMPLETED,” Craetos bellowed. “OR ALL WILL COME TO RUIN.”

  Fire built up inside of Craetos’ chest, and a flurry erupted at Kurian. He staggered back, his scales burning and his wing nearly torn from his back. Kurian didn’t miss a beat, and returned another volley of fire. As the two titans struggled and fought, burning and biting, the enormous chains holding up the bridge waned and creaked. The dragon statues cracked, and it felt as though the entire cavern would fall in on itself at any moment.

  Kurian was weaker than ever, and his next flurry of fire came out stifled and choked. Craetos stabbed his teeth into Kurian’s neck, pulling a chunk of scales and flesh free, and causing him to cry out in agony. Taro rattled the grate in vain, ready to batter it down, but realizing that even if he did, there was nothing he could do to help.

  Kurian was clearly no match for Craetos, and it was only a matter of time before the monstrosity overwhelmed him. Moments passed, and Kurian was little more than a bloody mess. Then, Kurian’s eyes noticed the chains holding the bridge up. Craetos roared, looming over him, ready to strike the killing blow.

  Fire built up in Kurian’s chest one final time, no doubt every bit he could muster. His eyes shone like yellow diamonds in the darkness, and he smiled a perfectly content smile.

  Flames licked at his mouth as Kurian spoke. “You know what the worst part about this is, gramps?” He looked down at the chasm below, sideways at the support chains, then up at his grandfather. “I finally get to do something noble, and Dad’s nowhere to be seen.”

  With that, Kurian breathed his last breath at the support chains, and the steel melted like hot butter. The metal groaned, the latches broke free, and the bridge fell. With all his strength, Kurian pounced onto Craetos, ripping and tearing at his wings, and pulling him down into the void below.

  Together, they fell into the darkness, tumbling in a mass of flames and rubble.

  And Kurian was gone.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Eyes of the Mad God

  Taro struggled as Lokír pulled him through the corridor.

  “We can’t leave him!” Taro shouted, pulling toward the closed grate in vain.

  “He’s gone, Taro-sin. He’s gone,” Lokír said. “But the All-Seer might survive. There will be time to grieve for him later.”

  Taro managed to break free, darting momentarily back from where they’d come. However, he stopped short as Lokír’s words repeated in his mind. He was right. Getting the Deeplight had to be the priority. If they couldn’t do that, Kurian’s sacrifice was in vain.

  Wiping the blood off his chin, Taro looked up blankly at Lokír. Everything felt like a dream, like he was looking at the world through foggy glass.

  There was light coming from the end of the hallway. There was no second door at the end, rather it opened into a wide circular room, hundreds of yards across and at least twenty stories tall.

  It was filled with treasure. Gold ingots stacked in towers, ancient Helian coins in great heaps on the floor, pearls the size of apples, goblets and crowns incrusted with jades, sapphires, and gleaming gemstones. Everything seemed just a few shades brighter than normal, though there were no signs of artificial light anywhere in the room. The heaps of gold seemed to go on forever. And not just gold, but fine colored silks, pottery lined with emeralds, shields bearing the mark of Emperor Rutharan.

  “Treasure,” Lokír said in awe as they crept through the sea of gold.

  “Plunder,” Taro corrected. “Blood money the Emperor offered to Nuruthil in exchange for immortality. I once heard a story that Valros Andurin brought him here to beg for life.”

  Lining the room were five stone columns clad in burnished bronze, but in the center, atop a platform, was an enormous statue of Nuruthil himself. Taro had seen classical depictions of the Mad God before, most of them portraying him shrouded in darkness and decay. This depiction was vastly different. It was composed of white marble, and Nuruthil was sitting barefoot, a white sash covering his body. Both of his eyes were firmly closed. Atop his head was a crown of stars; they drifted around him, glowing like diamonds.

  “What else did the story say?” Lokír asked.

  He pointed toward the statue of Nuruthil. “Just that the Netherlight appeared in the statue’s right eye.”

  “Perhaps the Deeplight is in the left,” Lokír said. “But how do we get the statue to open its eyes?”

  “Craetos wouldn’t have made it easy,” Taro said. “Or made it something that anyone could do.”

  “Perhaps the key is dragon fire?”

  “Well, we don’t have that anymore,” Taro said bitterly.

  They approached the wide dais on which the statue sat. On the front were Deific letters, carved deep into the marble:

  SEE THE TRUTH IN STONE

  SEE PAST THE LIES OF THE FLESH

  SPEAK THE TRUE NAME OF THE CORRUPTORS

  AND RELEASE THE SEAL

  “‘The true name of the corruptors,’” Lokír said thoughtfully. “What could it mean?”

  “I have no idea,” Taro said. He put his fingers to his forehead.

  While they mulled it over, a great tremor shook through the cavern, sending gold clattering down like an avalanche. The walls and ceiling shook, and there followed a deafening roar from the other room. Craetos was climbing out of the pit Kurian had dragged him into.

  Taro’s brain raced, trying to reason out the riddle in stone. Though exhausted, and having his templar stretched to the limit, he decided to risk using the Eye of Sethetrion once more. At first, he didn’t see anything, but out of the corner of his vision, he spotted a slight change on one of the pillars, almost too small to notice. Without saying a word, he raced toward it.

  Lokír followed behind. “Do you see something?”

  Taro stopped and arm’s length away from the first pillar. On it, glowing a dim red, was a single sigil shaped like fire. When his true sight faded, so too did the sigil.

  “That’s it,” Taro said, biting his lip. “True sight is the answer. Something only dragons have.”

  “And yourself, fortunately. What do you see?”

  “Fire,” Taro said, then muttered to himself, then frantically checked his pockets for Craetos’ journal. He flipped through as quickly as he could, moving toward the page detailing the “Great Demons of the Old World.” Each had an image associated with them. He read the first aloud:

  “Suborgath.”

  When he spoke, the pillar made a loud click. Mechanisms moved inside, and the sides extended outward. A beam of thin gold
light appeared, connecting it to the statue in the center.

  The next pillar bore a sigil in the shape of a tree. “Sith-Narosa,” Taro said, and the pillar clicked and opened in the same way, a thin beam of light connecting it to both the statue and the other pillar.

  The third pillar bore a sigil of flesh. “Cthurihl,” Taro said.

  The last pillar bore the image of a darkened moon. “Isaroth.”

  With that, all four pillars were activated, but after a moment of waiting, nothing seemed to happen. The eyes of the statue remained closed.

  “There’s one name left to call,” Lokír pointed out, eying the statue. “Nuruthil.”

  Taro shook his head. “No, it has to be his true name. It’s not ‘Nuruthil’, it’s Ith—”

  “Ith-harus,” a voice finished. It didn’t belong to Taro or Lokír, rather it belonged to the figure standing in the entranceway. Vexis.

  Her voice was cold, and deadly serious. From where she stood, Taro could actually feel the radiant templar coming off her like heat from a furnace.

  At her voice, the left eye of the statue opened wide, revealing a reddish chunk of glowing crystal in the right eye. Was that it? Was that the Deeplight?

  Vexis took one careful step forward. “Taro,” she said. On her face was an expression like a nightmare, and she cut right to the chase. “Give her back to me. Give her back, now.”

  Taro didn’t try to play dumb. “No,” he said, inching toward the statue. “Kadia’s far away, hidden.”

  Vexis took a calm breath, but behind her eyes burned a white-hot anger that seemed like it would burst out at any moment. “Why?”

  “She’s my only bargaining chip. If you hurt me, she dies.”

  Vexis smirked, showing off far too many teeth. “You thinking you can bluff me, little boy? You think I’ve survived this long without being able to sniff out a lie? Oh, Taro, you still reek of lies. If you don’t tell me precisely where she is this very moment, I’ll rip the rest of your limbs off like a five-year-old pulling legs off an ant.”

  “You don’t scare me,” Taro said unwaveringly. This, of course, was a lie. In truth, Vexis frightened him even more than the Shahl. The Shahl was ordered evil. He did terrible things, but always for specific reasons, and usually within social norms. Vexis was like a rabid animal, and when it came to protecting her sister, Taro didn’t doubt she had no limits as to how far she would go.

  “Whatever you do to me, Kadia will get it back twice as hard,” Taro said.

  “You’d hurt a crazy girl?” Vexis asked.

  “Me? Never. But I have friends who aren’t as chivalrous.”

  Vexis’ hand was set against the frame of the entranceway, and when she clenched, it sent cracks through the stone. She looked down, biting at her tongue, before finally speaking. “What do you want?”

  “The Deeplight,” Taro said, motioning toward the red crystal above them. Almost on cue, the cavern rumbled from deep underground. Craetos was still making his way up the long chasm. “Let me take it, and leave. When I’m back in Endra Edûn, I’ll send her back to you. You have my word.”

  Vexis practically snarled out her next words. “I have a better idea.” She snapped her fingers, and Nima walked from the shadows and came to stand beside her. Her hair was longer and tied into a braid at one side. Her clothes were custom, those of an Inquisitor. She’d grown, and was now just as tall as Vexis, and she carried herself in a strikingly similar manner. She looked nothing like the young girl he’d left Ashwick with.

  “Nima,” Taro said, almost whispering.

  “Taro,” Nima said, nodding slightly. There was a brief, fleeting glimpse of warmth in her words, but it faded in an instant, leaving only her cold stare.

  “You like playing card games, don’t you, Taro? Games of chance? Poker and the like?” Vexis asked. “Of course you do. It’s extenuates your most base qualities. I learned it in the Magisterium myself. If you play long enough, eventually you’ll find yourself in an awkward position.” She gestured with her fingers. “You’re almost certain you have the best hand, but you still have to fold because your opponent has made such a strong play, you have to respect it. Maybe they’re bluffing, but it’s not worth the risk to find out.”

  Suddenly, Vexis grabbed Nima by the neck. Around her right hand, shadows pooled and formed a hard edge like a knife. “That’s where we find ourselves, Taro,” Vexis said, pressing her shadows into Nima’s throat.

  “What are you doing?” Nima asked urgently, looking shocked.

  “Quiet now, darling, the big kids are talking,” Vexis said, jostling her. She stared daggers at Taro. “Here’s my counteroffer. You tell me where she is right now, and I don’t cut your sister’s neck down to the collarbone.”

  Nima was shaking, grasping her hands in vain at the arm wrapped around her neck. “V-V-Vexis, please. You’re hurting me.”

  “Shut up,” Vexis snarled, shaking her again.

  Taro paused, his eyes darting to his sister, then to the floor. “She killed my dad. Do what you want with her.”

  Vexis couldn’t believe his response. “What?” she asked, caught off her stride.

  “She’s not coming back with me no matter what I do,” Taro said. “She made her choice. Do what you have to do, but I swear, Kadia will suffer for it.” He stared at her, stone-faced. “I’ve learned a lot from you, Vexis. Some things, a bit too well.”

  Vexis pushed her shadows against Nima’s neck, and a thin bead of blood trickled down, spattering on the floor. Vexis grunted, rearing her teeth, before shouting and throwing Nima onto the floor.

  “You son of a bitch,” Vexis snarled.

  Nima was in tears on the ground, scrambling to stand. Taro felt tears run down his own cheeks, realizing just how close his bluff had come to disaster. As it was, however, he was now in control.

  Taro glanced at Lokír. “Watch her for me.”

  Lokír stood beside Vexis, his axe ready to chop her down. Vexis eyed the large man like he was an insect. “And you are…?”

  “Lokír of Nurengard.”

  “A pleasure.”

  “I cannot say the same,” Lokír said.

  Vexis tilted her head. “Did I do something to you? Kill a family member? Burn one of your towns? Or should I check this under ‘miscellaneous’? Help me out here, I get a bit scatter-brained.”

  “Both,” Lokír said indignantly.

  “Oh. Sorry about that. Actually, no I’m not, I’d do it again. In fact, I probably will do it again.” She looked up at Taro, who was standing on the dais of the statue, reaching up to get the Deeplight. “Taro dearest, what the hell are you doing? I don’t mean to be crass about this fact, but you’re not exactly built for climbing.”

  Vexis raised her hand toward the Deeplight, and her shadows crept up the sides of the statue. They climbed, covering every inch of stone, and crept to the crystal, dislodging it and bringing it directly into her palm.

  Taro locked eyes with her, sliding down the side of the statue and reaching his hand out. “Give it here.”

  “Fall down,” Vexis said in an overly casual way.

  It felt like a boulder had dropped on Taro’s back. His knees buckled, and he fell face-forward, smashing his nose against the stone floor.

  Lokír made a move toward her with his axe, but a single word froze him in place. “Stop.”

  Lokír stood frozen, his eyes racing around in a panic. Vexis sauntered closer to Taro, who was wiping the blood off his nose. She eyed the Deeplight in her hand, then dropped it in front of him. The crystal struck the floor with a thud, rolling slightly.

  “There’s the damned thing, for all the good it will do you,” Vexis said, spitting on the ground beside him. “Now, where is Kadia?”

  Taro picked up the Deeplight. It was heavier than he’d expected,
and very warm, like a stone soaking in the sun on a hot summer day. It tugged at his templar in a very peculiar way, not dissimilar from the Netherlight, but Taro felt no evil coming from it. The feeling was hard to describe, perhaps the best term for it would be “order.” It was akin to staring at a perfectly symmetrical pattern amongst a sea of chaos, oddly beautiful.

  The moment Vexis let go of it, Lokír regained control of his motor functions, gasping and choking like he’d been unable to breathe the entire time.

  “You’re like a caveman with an unloaded crossbow,” Vexis told Taro. “Maybe with a few weeks, and putting every bit of your tiny brain to the task, you could get the Deeplight to work the way you want it to, but I doubt you have that long.” The cavern shook, and Craetos’ roar echoed through the halls. Vexis smiled a terrible smile.

  From the doorway, Craetos appeared in his human form. He had a large gash across his matted flesh from his fight with Kurian, which was slowly healing. He lurched forward, stomping and shambling as he walked. His eyes shone out from the darkness, staring straight at Taro. He moved in slow, menacing steps toward him, and Nima crawled frantically out of the way.

  Taro held the Deeplight forward and channeled his templar into it. “Stop,” he commanded.

  Craetos flinched slightly, but kept moving, pushing past gold coins as if he were walking through a stream of water.

  “Stop!” Taro repeated louder. This time, Craetos didn’t even flinch. Taro shoved the Deeplight at Vexis. “Stop him!”

  Vexis made no motion to take it. She scrunched her nose, and lulled her head. “Hmm…I think not.”

  As Craetos neared him, the air went colder. For the life of him, Taro couldn’t figure out why the dragon was targeting him. Taro put his back against the massive statue.

  “Stop,” he repeated in vain. Craetos was only a few yards in front of him.

  “Taro! Give it here!” Nima shouted, blood still trickling from the cut in her neck.

  Not seeing another choice, Taro tossed the Deeplight to her. Craetos’s eyes followed it, and he pivoted toward Nima. It wasn’t Taro that Craetos was after, it was the Deeplight itself.