Relic of the God

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “When she emerged once more,” Adriel continued, “Angala proclaimed that it could only be destroyed by the very magic that created it.” The ancient Dragorn looked at The Veil with an intensity that Gideon had come to expect from the elf. “It was you, not I, who saw the new role of the Dragorn in this world. It should be you who rids Verda of this threat. No Dragorn as young or inexperienced as you has ever been given such a perilous task. But I believe there has never been a Dragorn such as you, Gideon Thorn.” Adriel offered the orb to Gideon. “The Veil is under your protection now…”

  The weight and responsibility of what lay before him continued to press upon Gideon in waves, but standing with The Veil offered to him, the young Dragorn felt nothing but a sense of purpose. He would see the relic of these so-called gods destroyed and there was nothing, neither Valanis or an army of Darkakin, that would stop him. He reached out and took The Veil from Adriel’s open palm. It was heavier than he imagined and cool in his hands, but only for a second.

  Then it became warm...

  Then it became hot…

  “Adriel…” Gideon could feel the heat radiating through his hand.

  The elf was too slow to react, however, and the magic contained within ran up Gideon’s arm. No, he realised. It wasn't running up his arm, The Veil was pulling magic out of him as if he were nothing more than a lightning rod.

  Let go of it! Ilargo warned.

  It was too late. The Veil came to life with a series of fine rings that popped out of the metal casing. The golden rings ran around the orb in different directions at incredible speed. Adriel shot his hand out to snatch the relic, but the light and energy that exploded from within threw both Dragorn across the cavern. When they finally stopped rolling down the rocky tiers, The Veil could no longer be seen, concealed as it was behind a curtain of brilliant light.

  Gideon’s fingers explored the gloom for his staff, but it was nowhere in sight. Wiping the trickle of blood from his eyebrow, the young Dragorn picked himself up as Adriel came to stand beside him, watching the spectacle.

  “What happened?” Gideon asked frantically.

  Adriel couldn't find any words to reply, only an expression of confusion and concern found their voice. After a moment’s contemplation, the elf looked down at Gideon’s palm and lifted his entire hand by the wrist. The mage half-expected to see a burn where he had held The Veil, but there was no evidence of trauma.

  “Of course…” Adriel said with the gravest of tones. “It reveals itself only to man.”

  A bottomless pit opened inside Gideon’s stomach and the feeling of failure, combined with impending doom, worked to overcome his senses. What had he done? The Veil had been in the safe hands of elves for thousands of years and one touch from him had undone everything the Dragorn had sworn to protect.

  “What do we do now?” Gideon asked.

  You need to get out of there! Ilargo replied, the dragon’s voice full of terror.

  “You need to close it down,” Adriel said on his way back up the rocky tiers.

  Gideon followed the elf with his hand raised to block the light from blinding him. “How do I do that?”

  “We must find a way before -” Adriel’s words froze on the end of his lips.

  The light collapsed in on itself and The Veil fell to the ground with an unceremonious thud. Standing, in the place of the ethereal gateway, was a man dressed in long, black robes lined with scarlet. A liver-spotted hand, adorned with a bulbous blue gem, held a tall staff that ended in a pointed spear. Sparkling crystals ran up the haft until they met a jagged, red gem. The sleeves of his robes were tucked inside a pair of plated bracers, each bejewelled with smaller green crystals.

  The pointed, crooked nose of an old man looked down at them, his features surrounded by flowing white hair and a beard that stretched down to his belt, which was laden with scrolls and pouches. His eyes were those of a hungry man and his mouth twisted into a wicked grin.

  “Dragon Riders…” he whispered, his words echoing around the silent cavern.

  Adriel recovered from the shock of his appearance first. The elf pushed out his hands with a destructive spell, but magic had abandoned them.

  Get out of there! Ilargo’s shout sounded distant and faint to Gideon now.

  Adriel tried one more time but his efforts only brought a wider smile to the man’s face. He stamped his staff into the ground and a blastwave of bright energy washed over both Dragorn, throwing them back into the cavern. Adriel’s flight came to a sudden stop when the elf impacted against one of the pillars, leaving Gideon to tumble through the purple crystals and stalagmites.

  Ilargo… he called to his companion.

  You cannot beat him, Gideon. He has Crissalith!

  Impossible. He just hit us with a spell…

  Get out, Gideon! Ilargo pushed the image of the blue gem on the man’s bony finger before his presence disappeared entirely.

  Being cut off from Illargo was devastating to Gideon on every level. A wave of depression threatened to overcome him as if a physical weight had been placed on his back. For a moment he felt blind, deaf, and dumb and worried he would never recover. It was the sounds of Adriel’s groans that eventually brought Gideon back to reality. The young Dragorn struggled to his feet, doing his best to ignore the fresh cuts that covered his body.

  Their attacker’s staff resounded against the rock as the wizard made his way down to the cavern floor. Adriel was at his feet, crawling through the shallow pools with blood running from the back of his head and mixing with the water.

  “You would raise your hand to me?” The wizard walked around Adriel. “I was present for your creation! Where is the respect, elf? You should be worshipping me!”

  “You’re… not a god,” Adriel said through gritted teeth.

  “I am Krayt! The god of war! I was worshipped as such before you were born, elf, and I shall be worshipped after you are gone.” The wizard whipped his staff up with both hands and hit Adriel in the ribs, reducing the ancient Dragorn to a curled up ball.

  “Leave him alone!” Gideon shouted. He had no plan, but he was running through the cavern with his anger leading the way.

  “Silence, whelp!” Krayt pointed his staff at Gideon and let loose a ball of molten fire. The spell collided with another pillar but its trajectory forced Gideon to roll to the side in order to stay alive.

  The young Dragorn jumped back up with Abigail’s wand in hand; it was an instinct he could not ignore. Only when he aimed it at Krayt’s back, whose attention had returned to Adriel, did Gideon remember he couldn't use magic anymore. But the wizard could… Gideon saw the blue gem Ilargo had pushed upon him resting on Krayt’s bony finger.

  Krayt flicked his staff into the air and flung Adriel into a pillar, pinning him in place with magic. “For millennia your wretched kind have allied with those beasts to keep us trapped! I have been forced to watch the world from behind a veil of fog. ME! THE GOD OF WAR!” Adriel cried out under the magical strain, which stretched his limbs in every direction.

  Gideon crept back up to the highest tier, careful to avoid the puddles and shattered crystals. It was darker now, with only one of Adriel’s orbs left floating above. The mage crouched low and searched the jagged ground using his hands to touch every surface. The Veil knocked against the side of his hand and rolled away, teetering on the lip of the ledge. He quickly scooped it up with a pouch from his belt, taking care not to touch it with the palm of his hand.

  “You are the last of the Dragon Riders,” Krayt was still looking up at Adriel. “I am torn between killing you now and keeping you alive to torment for all time. You can't imagine how bored I've been…”

  Gideon used his every word to gain footing, the sound masking his steps. The only weapon left to him was Mournblade, but removing it from the scabbard would alert the wizard. Since the gods clearly weren't on his side, pure luck had him tread on top of his fallen staff. Even without magic, the staff was a strong piece of wood, enchanted to withstand a
blow from a sword.

  Thick veins became prominent on Adriel’s face as he attempted to push his head away from the pillar. “You will… never rule this… world. And I am not… the last Dragorn!”

  Gideon sprung his attack, swinging the staff in the manner of a club. Krayt turned on the spot with more speed than should have graced a man of his age. The wizard met Gideon’s staff with his own, only Krayt’s staff expelled enough magic to snap the mage’s in half. The shock of it ran up both of Gideon’s arms and he dropped what remained of his shattered staff. There was no time to take in what had just happened or come to terms with the fact that his staff had been broken. The jagged, red gem on the end of Krayt’s staff swung round and connected with his face, whipping his head around and sending the young Dragorn to the ground.

  “Indeed, it seems you are not the last Rider, elfling.” The god of war looked down on Gideon, an animal looking down on tastier prey. “You have my permission to die.” The wizard released Adriel and thrust the spear-tip of his staff into the elf’s chest.

  “NO!” Gideon looked up from the ground to see his mentor’s face drop and contort into agony.

  Adriel’s hands gripped the spear impaling him to the pillar, but his eyes focused on Gideon. “Vi’tari…” The light left his eyes and his entire body slumped until Krayt freed his staff, leaving the elf to crumple at his feet.

  “Such a useless breed,” the wizard commented. “Still, they will make excellent slaves.”

  Gideon couldn't find the strength to stand in the sight of so much blood pooling under Adriel. The elf had lived for thousands of years, becoming a font of wisdom and knowledge that Gideon would need if he was to become a Dragorn worthy of his predecessors. In the blink of an eye, he was gone. Gideon’s grief was tenfold when he realised that Galandavax would be dead at the base of the mountain. The young Dragorn suddenly feared for Ilargo’s life more than his own.

  Krayt moved away from Gideon with no fear of the young Dragorn. “You have no idea how good it feels to kill an actual living being. For eons, I’ve had to settle with… shades. You can't imagine what it’s like on the other side. A world where you can shape mountains with a thought, raise castles from the dirt and create life, or a least something close to life. More like figments of our imagination. It sufficed for a time, but you always knew they weren't real. Ha! Listen to me, prattling on. I’ve only had nineteen people to speak to for...” The wizard’s eyes glazed over. “...Eternity.” Krayt blinked and shook his head. “I suppose I should get on with killing you then. There is a kingdom to rebuild after all!”

  “The world has moved on since you left,” Gideon knew he was stalling the inevitable, but he didn't know what he was stalling it for yet. “Illian has six kingdoms already. There’s no place for you or your king.” The mage crawled over to a thick stalagmite and used it to stand up.

  “Oh, but I’m not alone, little Dragon Rider. Besides the armies Valanis has risen in our name, Atilan, king of the first men will soon return and with him my brothers and sisters. Naius will unleash magic the world has never seen, Ikaldir will hunt down any who rebel, Nalmiron will bring about storms so powerful they will make the earth tremble!” Krayt laughed. “You cannot imagine the power of my king. I have a whole pantheon of gods behind me, boy, each more powerful than any mage or elf.” The wizard focused on the pouch hanging from Gideon’s belt. “Give The Veil to me.”

  Gideon gritted his teeth, hearing Adriel’s last word echo in his mind. “You’ll never leave this mountain.” The Dragorn pulled Mournblade free from its scabbard.

  Krayt raised his shaggy eyebrow. “Give me The Veil, child, or I’ll drag you out of this mountain and make you watch as I peel every scale from your dragon’s hide.”

  “His name is Ilargo, and you shouldn't threaten him.” Gideon gave in to Mournblade and launched at Krayt with the tip of his scimitar aimed at his heart.

  “Foolish boy!” The wizard raised his staff, emitting a light as bright as the sun.

  Gideon felt his eyes burn and the blade in his hands be swept aside. The cavern became impossible to navigate with spots in his eyes, turning the details in silhouettes. His sword arm jumped about, seemingly without his command, and batted Krayt’s attacks away. The Vi’tari was keeping him safe from a beating, but it could not hold off magic. Gideon guessed the spell to be that of fire, since his chest burned as he flew across the cavern, but when his senses finally returned he could see and feel the ice on his jacket.

  Krayt was bearing down on him again and he thought of Ilargo. He had to keep fighting for the dragon, his life depended on it. The Dragorn shot up and combined form three of the Mag’dereth with the lethality of Mournblade. The scimitar cut through the air and his limbs added to the melee, forcing the wizard to retreat into the heart of the cavern. Staff and sword collided with immense force and a shower of sparks. For a time, Gideon really thought he was winning.

  That thought was fleeting.

  A quick cut across Krayt’s leg dropped the god of war to one knee, but it only forced the wicked wizard to use magic to save his life. An outstretched hand came at Gideon and with it a wave of rippling air. Then Krayt was gone. His dark robes moved around the stalagmites in a blur of red piping, darting in and out of the Dragorn’s position. As quickly as he had vanished, he was once again standing in front of the mage, smiling.

  Gideon groaned and fell to the ground, his grip on Mournblade faltering. His body was covered from head-to-toe in gashes and the pain from every one made themselves known at the same time. The Dragorn couldn't even find a word as he used all of his energy to stop himself from passing out. Blood trickled from the numerous wounds and ran over the rocky ground, to the base of Krayt’s spear-tipped staff, now coated in more blood.

  It was impossible for any being to move that fast, even with magic, the speed would crush every bone in the caster’s body. With what little rationale Gideon could summon, he realised the spell Krayt cast must have slowed him down..

  The wizard laughed mercilessly. “This is so-much-fun! If it weren't for the drab surroundings I would have it last for days. Alas, it has been some time since I have seen the real sky or felt the true texture of grass under my feet. I imagine the breeze to be magnificent…”

  Gideon was barely taking any of it in. Beyond the god of war, he could see Adriel’s dead body lying in a heap. The Dragorn deserved more than that. Ilargo deserved more than that too, and in a few moments, that same fate would find the dragon after the wizard scattered his body across the cavern.

  Gideon gripped the hilt of Mournblade until his knuckles turned white. The pressure split the cuts on his hands and it hurt like hell, but the Dragorn used the pain to focus him. He gripped the blade, pointing it into the ground until his hands shook and tears welled in his eyes.

  “Your time… has already ended.” Gideon could taste blood in his mouth.

  Krayt tilted his head. “You challenge a god? Who are you to bring me down?”

  Gideon blinked the tears away, his next move absolute. “I am the last Dragorn…”

  He charged forward with his last burst of energy and flicked Mournblade high into the air, releasing it to spin into the hanging stalactite. The pointed slab of rock crumbled and fell back to the ground with the scimitar. Krayt raised his staff and erected a shield to deflect the debris, but Gideon knew he would never kill the god of war with such an obvious attack. His body flowed into form four of the Mag’dereth, turning his every limb into a weapon. As Krayt raised his head to the threat from above, Gideon leaped into the air with his fist held back. The timing was perfect and his fist slammed into the wizard’s throat, crushing his windpipe.

  Everything hit the ground at the same time. Debris from the stalactite scattered behind them with the clatter of Mournblade, as Gideon came to land on top of Krayt, who had dropped his staff to clasp his hands around his throat. He sputtered and choked into the cold cavern, his eyes wide with fear. Gideon gripped the wizard’s wrist and stamped on it,
pinning the arm down. As quick as he could, the Dragorn tugged the blue gemmed ring from his finger, leaving Krayt a slave to his own Crissalith. No magic was going to help him now.

  Gideon slowly stood over the wizard, picking up the fallen staff as he did. “Without magic, you’re just an old man. You were never a god…” The Dragorn grounded the staff down into Krayt’s chest. His robes took on a darker shade and the gasp that escaped his lips faded with the life in his eyes.

  The staff began to hum and the jagged, red gem pulsed with a soft glow. Gideon pocketed Krayt’s blue, crystal ring and stepped back, all the more aware of his injuries now. The soft glow became more intense and the frequency emitted from the gem clawed at the mage’s ears. Small cracks appeared along the haft, releasing slithers of brilliant light. This was a spell he had heard of, during his days at Korkanath. It wasn't good.

  Scooping up Mournblade was all he had time for during his mad dash for the mouth of the cavern. The light from the wizard’s staff illuminated every corner of the gloom now, though a little light was the least of Gideon’s worries.

  Adriel…

  The thought had the Dragorn stop in his tracks, an error he couldn't afford. He doubled back and picked up the elf’s body, throwing him over one shoulder. The added weight slowed him down and bit into all of his wounds, but he wouldn't leave Adriel’s body to be buried under the same mountain as that wretch, he deserved better.

  The spell reached its inevitable apex and exploded. The sight and sound of it were lost on Gideon, who was flung into the cave wall outside the mouth of the cavern. His feet left the floor and the force of it hurtled the Dragorn into oblivion…

  26

  Fight or flight

  Reyna looked upon the ruined body of Faylen, sure that she would never overcome the guilt that resided inside of her. The cuts, bruises, and severe burn to her back were just as much their doing as they were Alidyr’s. Before journeying to Illian’s shores, the princess couldn't imagine hurting another being, let alone killing as many as she had, but the things she imagined doing to that twisted elf would have many of her kin turn away.