Defiler

by Isaac Hooke

  The surviving griffin was barely breathing on the floor next to him. He crushed its will, sucking all of its stamina, putting the creature out of its misery. Then he scooped up the dagger and slid it through a loop in his belt.

  “Do you have any backpacks?” he asked Wendolin.

  She vanished inside a walk-in closet connected to the bedchamber, and returned with two knapsacks. The things were oversized, veritable duffel bags—big enough to carry swords if need-be.

  “Perfect,” he said.

  She tossed them onto the bed.

  He removed the sack that contained the pearl from his belt, and shoved it into one of the backpacks. Then he slid it on.

  “Should I take the other?” Solan asked.

  “Why not,” Malem replied. “Who knows, maybe we’ll find some elven loot on the way out.”

  Solan smiled at that. “Don’t tempt me. I am a dragon. We love loot.” He shrugged on the remaining backpack.

  “I’m sure you do,” Malem commented.

  He called fresh griffins to the broken window.

  While he waited for them to arrive, he did a quick check-in with his birds. He noticed elven troops were mobilizing around the base of one of the tree-tower garrisons nearby.

  “Your soldiers gather,” he told Wendolin. “Your doing?”

  “No,” she said. She had returned to the walk-in closet, so her voice was slightly muffled. “Word is spreading, as you wished, that the Defiler has collared their queen.”

  “News moves fast here, “Malem said.

  “It tends to move fast when you have griffins to serve as steeds,” she commented.

  “If we encounter resistance, you’ll make them stand down,” Malem said.

  She didn’t answer.

  “You’re going to have to let them know you’ve fallen in with me, and thus Vorgon, at some point,” Malem said. “It’s up to you how you want to present that fact. You can either tell them you joined willingly, for the sake of your people and their eventual future in this land, or you can admit that I have Broken you. I know your shame is great, but if the latter explanation makes it easier for you, then by all means, feel…”

  “The populace will fight me,” Wendolin interrupted him. She emerged from the walk-in closet. Her sleeper was gone, replaced with a resplendent gray riding dress inlaid with sequins. The collar formed a silver-trimmed V neck that reached down beneath her bosom, giving him an ample view of the sides of both breasts.

  Malem shrugged. “You will make examples of anyone who raises a hand against you.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “They will fight me. To the death. To the last man, woman and child. They will not let me go.”

  “Why?” he said. “You are that valuable to them?”

  “They know the power I can grant the Balor,” Wendolin said. “My people won’t let that happen. They won’t let me leave. Those troops you mentioned? A good portion will be headed toward my tree palace at this very moment. The remainder will be sent to reinforce the city gates, to prevent our exit.”

  “That poses a problem,” Malem said. He glanced at Solan.

  The half dragon seemed unconcerned. “We will fight our way out.”

  Malem nodded. “As soon as we open these damn collars.”

  Six griffins waited next to the balcony outside, and Malem, Solan and Wendolin loaded onto three of them. Scooping up handfuls of hair in order to grip the back of his particular mount, Malem ordered the creatures off.

  The unmounted beasts followed behind the mounted. Malem himself stayed behind Wendolin’s mount in case she tried something. More than anything else, he worried she would attempt to throw herself off the griffin, plunging to her doom before he could catch her, but she remained firmly seated as the group moved stealthily from bough to bough.

  Malem spread out the smaller birds he had bound around him, so that they could alert him if any patrols were spotted on the ground or in the air. As such, when twenty elf-mounted griffins approached from ahead, the group was able to dodge behind the thick branches of a nearby tree before the patrol flew past. He watched them head toward the palace behind him, and when they were well away, he continued.

  They arrived at the marble upper floors of the Guest Tower. He Broke the five griffins that stood guard, perched on the balconies and nearby branches. One of them had a rider; he ordered another griffin to bite off the passenger’s head, and the griffin promptly dumped the dead weight.

  Malem and the other riders approached the smallish balcony adjoining the shared quarters of his companions.

  Come to the balcony, Malem ordered those others who were bound to him.

  He sent the eight griffins to the balcony one at a time, and his companions loaded onto them in turn. He kept a close eye on Sylfi, ready to tighten his will at a moment’s notice—like Wendolin, he was a little worried she would try to leap to her death, given her previous behavior. But she remained firmly atop the mount.

  When everyone was mounted, he commanded the griffins to fly up towards the thick-canopied boughs of the tree-tower, and perched the monsters on a thick branch close to the main trunk. It was capable of holding all the griffins with room to spare, and so he lined them up in a long row down the middle. He wanted to plan his next move, but more importantly, his back and neck were killing him, thanks to the wounds he had taken in the fighting. He didn’t think he could go on for much longer, not without healing.

  He deployed the birds at various spots around the tree to act as scouts, and then dismounted to stand on the thick branch. He had a good two yards in front and behind him before the edge of the limb dropped down precipitously.

  Weyanna, I need your expertise, he sent. He didn’t want to communicate vocally and risk giving away their positions, because he would have had to raise his voice for her to hear him, given her current position.

  Weyanna alighted from her griffin, and weaved between the other monsters to join him. One of the animals shot out its wings for balance as she walked past, and nearly knocked her off the branch.

  Careful! Malem sent the owner: Wendolin.

  The queen shrugged.

  You tried to kill us, Mauritania told Wendolin over the shared mental connection. She was glaring daggers at the woman.

  So? Wendolin replied.

  I don’t take kindly to assassination attempts, Mauritania sent. You’re lucky I don’t have my powers, or I’d incinerate you.

  Where does it hurt? Weyanna asked when she reached him.

  He pointed at his neck above the armor, and she examined him. With her long fingernails, she began to remove the shards of glass from his neck, where they had embedded when the griffins had shattered the window of Wendolin’s quarters. He flinched as she removed each one.

  Do we have time for this? Ziatrice said. Can’t you heal any faster? Look at how the elves are mobilizing in the byways between the trees below. They’ve got patrols running on ground and in air. They know something is up. They’re going to be sending someone to our rooms to check on us, if they haven’t already.

  She’s right, Malem told Weyanna through the mental link. Heal as much as you can as is. Leave the shards in. We can pull them out later.

  But we’ll have to reopen the wounds then, Weyanna said. It’s going to hurt.

  Pain is the price of speed, he said.

  I’m almost done, she said. There weren’t many. He winced a final time as the pain flared up again, and then he felt the soothing press of Weyanna’s healing on his neck. It spread down, to his back, where the griffin’s talon had pierced his armor, and the muscle below.

  When it was done, all pain left him, but he staggered, feeling weak. Weyanna slumped beside him. He borrowed stamina liberally from Vorgon to replace what he had lost, sharing it with Weyanna.

  Heal Solan, too, he said. The half dragon had suffered minor wounds to his face and neck where the glass shards from the window had struck.

  I don’t need healing, Solan said.

  M
alem glanced at him, and saw that Solan indeed didn’t need healing. His face was free of scars.

  The glass is still embedded in your face? Malem asked.

  Solan nodded. It will be dissolved over the next few weeks by my body’s defenses. Sooner, if I can get this infernal collar off.

  Wendolin, do you need healing? he asked. He sensed minor aches and pains emanating from her energy bundle.

  Not really, the queen of the tree elves said. At least, nothing that can’t wait.

  All right, mount up, he told Weyanna. He pulled himself onto his own griffin, and waited for Weyanna to return to hers. His eyes lingered on her back, where the white dress she wore looped low, ending just above her buttocks. His gaze dropped further, to her butt, partially mesmerized by the way it swayed back and forth as she walked.

  So you Broke her after all, Gwenfrieda said, drawing his attention away from the half dragon. That makes what, three queens and a princess under your control now? Plus five dragons. Well, six, if we include the princess.

  And a gobling, Mauritania said.

  Half gobling, Gwenfrieda clarified.

  Malem ignored the comment and turned toward Wendolin. Because of the myriad of scouts he had out there, he was well aware of the predicament his team was in. They truly didn’t have time to dally.

  Where is this officer of yours stationed? he asked Wendolin. The one with the key?

  On the fourth floor, Wendolin sent.

  What about our equipment? Ziatrice asked. I’d like my halberd back…

  And I’d like my bow and arrows, Gwenfrieda said.

  Wendolin? Malem asked.

  There is a storeroom on the fourth floor as well, the queen replied. There you will find your weapons. I can take you to it. In fact, it’s on the way to the officers’ quarters.

  Then we stop there first, Malem sent. Abigail, Wendolin, Brita, Sylfi, you’re with me.

  He chose Sylfi mostly so that he could watch her. And Brita because he doubted the sister would let him take Sylfi without a fight. Abigail would be the most useful if they needed to fight their way out in the enclosed spaces of the tower, where it would be impossible to transform into dragons—her fire magic could burn through any branches the elven mages tried to bind them with.

  What about us? Mauritania asked.

  We’ll come back for you, he replied. Without weapons or magic, you’re useless to me anyway.

  Gee, thanks, Mauritania said.

  Solan, give Abigail your backpack, Malem ordered. She’ll need it to help me carry the weapons.

  Solan shrugged off the empty backpack Wendolin had given him, and tossed it to Abigail.

  Nice, Abigail said. Where did you find packs so big?

  I’m a queen, Wendolin replied.

  When she had slid it on, Malem steered the four griffins toward the lower section of the marble tower, close to where it emerged from the tree. He approached one of the windows, where he estimated the fourth floor resided.

  Next level, Wendolin sent.

  He descended farther, and the marble exterior gave way to the bark of the tree that contained it. He approached a small balcony that protruded from the wood.

  Here? he asked her.

  This is the fourth floor, yes, Wendolin said. But you do know these floors are occupied, right?

  What kind of residents are we talking? he asked. Soldiers?

  Some, but on the outskirts where we are, only minor nobles, the queen replied.

  Nothing we can’t handle, Malem said.

  I thought this was the “Guest Tower,” Abigail sent. These nobles are guests?

  The Guest Tower has seen such little use over the years that I’ve converted much of it into residences. Nobles stay here, as well as a small garrison of soldiers.

  The griffin barely had enough room to land on the balcony railing, and Malem slid off the moment it did so. The animal lost its balance when he let go, and fell away but promptly switched to a hover. It flew out of the way to allow the next rider to come in.

  Malem went to the door, but it was locked. He peered through the glass panels of the door, and saw a simple bed with two figures inside it.

  Behind him, the griffins took turns unloading their passengers onto the balcony. Malem flattened himself as the others squeezed in beside him. Sylfi was crushed right up against him, so that he felt the press of her breasts against his arm, intoxicatingly so. He glanced at her, but she immediately turned her head away as if disgusted, which was the exact opposite of the raw arousal that spiked from her energy bundle. He wondered if she was acting this way only for the sake of Brita.

  Maybe it was a mistake to bring her sister along. I might have to try separating the two, sometime, and see if that improves her behavior.

  “The door’s locked,” Malem said softly. “I’ll have to recall one of the griffins, I think.” He used spoken words now, because the group of them were close enough together that he wouldn’t have to raise his voice for them all to hear him.

  Sylfi pushed him to the left slightly, and then smashed her fist into the glass panel. It broke.

  When he looked at her in surprise, she shrugged. “I still have some dragon strength left.”

  He was just thankful she hadn’t used that strength to throttle him, because he doubted he’d be able to stop her in time, even if she was bound to him.

  “Harry, get up!” a woman’s voice hissed inside. “Someone’s breaking in!”

  Malem reached through the broken glass and unlatched the door, then opened it.

  “Don’t fear,” he said as he stepped inside, and the two figures sat up on the bed. “Your queen locked herself out of the Guest Tower, and needs to take a shortcut.”

  “Hello,” Wendolin said, coming inside behind him. She wouldn’t be that visible in the dim light, but Malem suspected tree elves had relatively good night vision.

  Sure enough:

  “Queen Wendolin?” the woman in the bed said in shock.

  The queen smiled, and Malem led her forward. Abigail, Brita, and Sylfi followed. One of the griffins came next, which Malem had ordered to squeeze inside. The monster had to tuck in its claws and wings to shuffle through the tight doorways of the apartment suite, but otherwise it managed to follow readily enough. The other griffins circled discretely outside, waiting for his return.

  If the residents of this suite try to leave, kill them, he ordered the monsters.

  He called in a couple of birds, and sent them forward into the adjacent suites. They were clear.

  Malem reached the front door, where the birds awaited, and opened it to peer into the well-lit hall beyond. Those now familiar magic light globes sat in brackets on the walls, providing illumination. The floor was plain marble, and lacked the usual carpets and tapestries common to the queen’s palace. The walls were mostly bare as well, with only the occasionally poorly done painting or bust to break the monotony.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Wendolin. “Which way to the storeroom?”

  “Left,” she said.

  Malem sent one bird to the left, and the other to the right, so that the flying beasts could scout in both directions.

  “Do birds usually pass through these halls?” Brita asked Wendolin.

  “No,” the queen said.

  Brita turned toward Malem. “Then won’t any guards who see those birds consider it an odd sight?”

  “I’ll make sure the guards don’t see them,” Malem said. Though that would be difficult. He did instruct the birds to avoid any elven patrols as much as possible, however. He did this through the use of imagery, rather than actual words, as the animals did not understand the common tongue, of course.

  When that was done, he exited the room and proceeded left into the hall. The others followed him, with the griffin squeezing through the exit to take up a position on the rear.

  25

  Malem continued through the hallway toward the storeroom. Past the bend ahead, his avian scout reported two elven soldiers standing gua
rd in front of the door.

  He paused near the bend and turned toward Wendolin. “There are two scouts present.” He tossed her the dagger. “I want you to eliminate them.”

  The queen shrugged, sliding the dagger up one sleeve of her dress, and walked past the bend. Malem switched to her viewpoint so he could observe Wendolin in action.

  The two elves standing guard seemed surprised to see her, but then bowed when she reached them.

  “My queen,” they said in unison.

  “I want you to go,” Wendolin told them in an imperial voice. “I’m relieving you of duty. Go home to your women and families.”

  The elves exchanged an uneasy look. One of them told her: “My queen, I must apologize, but we cannot do this. In fact, we have orders to detain you. Now, we can either do this the easy way, or the—”

  As he spoke, Wendolin flicked her hand down, so that the haft of the dagger slid into her palm. She wrapped her fingers around it, and raised the blade, moving in a blur. She made two quick slashes, and the gray of her dress became splattered with two long, crimson stains. The elves dropped, holding their necks.

  Well done. Malem fed her stamina, intending it as a reward.

  Don’t you dare reward or congratulate me for what I’ve done, Wendolin said. Don’t you dare.

  With a shrug, he withdrew the stamina, taking more than he had given so that she gasped, staggering. She had to lean one hand against the wall to hold herself up. But she seemed to prefer that than the stamina. She wanted to be punished for killing her own men.

  He rounded the corner with the others, and had the griffin assume a guard position just past the bend. The second nightbird had returned from its scouting to the right, and he deployed it close to the griffin to stand watch. The monster snapped at the bird when it got a little too close, so Malem had the bird switch to another bracket a few yards away.

  Meanwhile, he sent the remaining bird forward to watch the far side of the hall.

  “Brita, Sylfi, drag those bodies inside,” Malem ordered.

  Sylfi shot him a disgusted look—this time the look matched what he sensed from her energy bundle—and she grabbed the legs of one elf, while Brita latched onto the other, and together they dragged them into the store room. The bodies left obvious smears of blood on the marble.