by Umut Ersezer
Coniun looked up towards their god circling above, protecting them from any encroaching darkspawn. A long narrow shadow flew through the air at alarming speed directly for Ferox.
“Beware Great One!” shouted Coniun, but it was no use. The Fodico Spear slammed into the side of the dragon. Coniun was now witness to his god, careening to the ground, he could only look on with terror.
“Warriors! With me!”
**
Ferox, blinded with agonizing pain could feel his consciousness fading. He couldn’t hold himself up in the air, strength completely drained from him. He could feel the poison surging through him.
An idea came to him within the depths of his mind, spurring him to stay awake for moments longer. Ferox adjusted the angle of his wings, directing his flight path into a collision course with the portal and the veleon controlling it. If he were going to die, he would end this damnation in the process.
**
Volare was barrelling his way through the darkspawn. His armour glowing so brightly now it was warding them off. The sapphires in his boots flashed blue as Volare launched himself in leaps and bounds towards the centre of the forest.
He felt a vicious stabbing pain to his shoulder, followed by the absence of Ferox’ consciousness. Volare feared the worst which spurred him to run, bound and slash even harder. He was a supernatural force, about to unleash his power. Volare could sense the portal now, the power emanating from it. He pushed with his boots hard against the ground, leaping over the top of the trees to come crashing down upon the clearing containing the purple portal, darkspawn swarming out in an endless tide.
Volare saw Ferox on laying on the ground, eyes closed, only managing shallow breaths. The eshin surrounded him, holding off the horde of darkspawn but they wouldn’t last long. Healers were chanting over the body of Ferox, trying to work their magics for him but Volare suspected they were less effective while their dragon was so severely injured.
Stepping out from behind the, portal the veleon came into Volare’s sight.
“You have done well to come this far Volare, but you will come no further. There is no resisting, no escaping Mirardos. All within this cosmos shall be his,” said the hooded figure.
“Who are you?” demanded Volare, gritting his teeth as he set his stance and sword into an aggressive position.
“I am Lord Simus, a hand of the Shadow Lord Mirardos. I am here to bring an end to the pitiful resistance the lifelings of this planet have mounted.”
Volare let out a mighty battle cry, not interested in any more talk, he wanted to see Simus dead, skewered on his sword. He glowed as bright as the sun as he launched himself at the veleon. Volare was driven by the death of his family, the destruction wrought on the lands, the decimation of all life, the vile inhuman darkspawn, the wounds inflicted upon Ferox, he drove his anger down upon Simus in a flurry of overhead smashed with his sword.
Simus deflected each one with his staff, also glowing now with a Lapis Lazuli embedded on top.
“It was you! you were on those cliffs during the attack on Vicus,” shouted Volare.
“Oh, I enjoyed ravaging that pathetic village, they cried and wept as the Shadow Lord’s children tore them apart,” Simus shouted back with a snarl.
Volare pushed hard against him, landing a chest breaking kick against Simus, sending him crashing into a tree trunk. Simus was sluggish getting back to his feet. Volare didn’t allow him the time, he came crashing down on the veleon once more, driving his sword forward into the tree trunk. Simus narrowly dodged as he rolled to the side.
Simus swung his staff to strike Volare’s head, soaking his vision with stars popping in and out of view. He stumbled back trying to collect himself.
The two traded blows for what seemed like an eternity, both growing tired. Volare willed himself to maintain his energy, relying on the emeralds in his bracers to keep holding his sword firm. Volare searched his memories for battle experience, combining them with the power of the gems, he continued to slash at Simus without rest. The veleon was growing tired, unable to control the darkspawn and fight Volare at the same time. The eshin were now in control of the battle around him, protecting both Ferox and Volare.
Volare felt an opening in Simus’ guard. He kicked at the staff, sending it flying out of the veleon’s grip. With no staff to protect himself, Volare drove his sword into Simus’ gut.
Volare felt a surge of power combined with relief as he twisted his sword within Simus’ gut, slicing and searing his flesh simultaneously. Simus’ black eyes grew wide as his blood dripped to the ground. His hood fell back to reveal ashen hair. His black robe caught alight with ruby fire, as Volare withdrew his sword from his gut, enjoying the sight of the veleon’s eyelids drooping. Simus dropped to the ground in a heap amongst his black robes, consumed by the ruby fire, he was rapidly reduced to ash.
Around him, the darkspawn, now without instruction, faltered in their aggression, not knowing what to do. It was only for a moment, however, as the portal had a surge of power, glowing more brightly, triggering the darkspawn into life again, lashing out with a new ferocity.
Volare marched to the portal, held out his palm and activated his ruby once more. A massive stream of fire enveloped the portal as it flickered, showing its first signs of weakness. Volare strained as he channelled power through his body and out through his palm, into the portal. He wasn’t sure if he could maintain it.
He looked to Ferox and noticed his Topaz glowing once more, combining its energy with the eshin’s powers of healing. The dragon’s eyes opened, as Ferox stood once more. The dragon had a look of seriousness to him. He swiped away the darkspawn as if they were pests and rushed to Volare’s side, unleashing a stream of fire to combine with Volare’s.
The portal flickered more vividly, its existence disappearing momentarily only to snap back. Volare and Ferox pushed themselves, harder than they ever had until finally, the portal disappeared. The purple glow dissipating into nothingness. The portal was closed.
Volare and Ferox were left gasping for breath, exhausted. A sense of relief washing over them as they looked to each other with a sense of pride.
The darkspawn once again stopping their aggression, taking pause, now not receiving any instruction once again. The eshin didn’t need to be invited to finish them, wiping out the darkspawn in the clearing. The stream had been stopped, giving the dwarves and humans a fighting chance to finally end the darkspawn.
“There is still the remaining darkspawn within the forest,” said Volare as he tried to catch his breath. There would be no time to rest. Ferox lowered his shoulder and Volare climbed atop the dragon once again to take to the skies. Peritus joined them from behind, still injured but now able to fly.
“Don’t count me out yet,” said Peritus showing her razor-sharp teeth. Your children work wonders Ferox, you did well in their creation.”
Ferox beamed at the compliment, he did indeed feel great pride for his children. He looked forward to returning to them after this. The two dragons flew towards the human and dwarven fronts, where they would help bring an end to the now mindless darkspawn.
** Chapter 28 **
The Reunion
Two Weeks Later…
Volare was in the Viridi stables brushing Brun.
“I missed you, boy,” said Volare.
Brun nickered and bumped his head against Volare’s shoulder, showing his care for the young man. He was grateful to the eshin for their care with Brun, he had never looked so clean and happy.
Volare had only arrived in Viridi, the new capital of eshin civilization a few days ago. He had spent some time with Trajan and the other commanders within Dritura, explaining the process of reparations that would be taking place in the coming weeks for the eshin. The returning of their land, their resources, as well as ample compensation.
With Ferox and Peritus standing imposingly by each of Volare’s shoulders, Trajan, nor the other commanders, made any protest to his demands. The military would
have six months to completely leave the lands of Dritura with further negotiations planned for the settlement of civilians.
Viridi and the surrounding towns and villages spent a week mourning their dead after their return home. The eshin had fought bravely, even saving the two dragon gods, but it came at a high cost.
For a second time in a generation, their population had been severely threatened. Every single eshin was touched by the sting of death in some capacity. It would take many more generations for them to recover and prosper once more. Ferox committed to staying with the eshin for the time being, to ensure the reparation process was honoured. Peritus and the dwarves, as well as Volare of course, offered assistance.
“Where should I go from here, boy?” asked Volare as he continued his brushing.
Brun, either by accident or by instinct, flicked his head northwards.
“Back to Vicus? I…I’m not sure Brun, there’s not much left there,” said Volare.
Brun scratched at the hay below him with his hoof.
“I suppose you’re right, I should lay the village to rest.”
Volare gave a deep sigh as he remembered the scene he had left. The torn bodies flashed through his mind, the blood-soaked ground and stench of death. Volare wasn’t sure if he was ready to confront those scenes once more, confront the origins of his story.
His Opal embedded into his plate glowed gently, refracting all the colours of a rainbow. He rubbed his hand over it, feeling its calming effects. He remembered the graves he had dug for his mother and brother. He wanted to visit them, pay his respects, say a proper goodbye. It was time for him to return home.
**
Ferox soared above the clouds, the sun’s rays now growing much warmer with each passing day.
“Should we go for it?” asked Ferox.
“Let’s do it!” replied Volare excitedly.
Ferox, dropped his head, pulled in his wings and dove headfirst towards the ground. Volare, now thoroughly enjoyed the rush of it. Flying with Ferox not only made him feel powerful but free as well.
Faster and faster they fell, the ground rushing up to meet them, details focusing into Volare’s view.
Something is different here, he thought.
Ferox did a couple of flyovers, assessing the ground for an ideal landing space. The dragon touched down in one of the outer farming fields, breathing in the fresh sea breeze.
Volare slid off Ferox and jogged towards the village centre.
It’s gone. The bodies, they’re all gone.
Volare, now walking through the streets of Vicus, was stunned to find it, clean of blood and bodies. It’s as if the very land itself had erased the atrocity that occurred here. The air, only had a scent of salt diffused through it, absent of rot. Volare could hear the calming sounds of waves washing up on the beach, all was calm. He started back into a jog towards his home, keen to see the state of his mother’s and brother’s grave.
“It can’t be!” he exclaimed as he walked around the hut to the backyard. There was a whole sea of graves back there. Each with a simple tombstone, engraving revealing who lay beneath. Volare could only look on with shock.
“Who are you?” came a quiet voice from behind.
Volare reeled around to see a somewhat dishevelled and heavily bearded man.
“Father!?” Volare exclaimed.
“Volare…it can’t be…how? You look so…” Calidum said wide-eyed.
“I could ask the same of you,” said Volare as he walked to his father.
The two embraced one another, holding on tight, not letting go for what seemed an eternity. Both men had tears flowing down their cheeks, tears of shock, sadness and pure joy all mixed in together.
Ferox walked along the edge of the village, wanting to look at what was happening. He could sense the rise in Volare’s emotions, stirring his curiosity.
“V…Volare! A…a…dra,” Cal stuttered.
“Calm father, that is the eshin dragon god Ferox,” explained Volare still holding his father’s shoulders tightly. Volare for the first time, noticed his height now matched his father’s, shoulders nearly as broad, he was no longer the boy his father knew. He now appreciated the shock he must have caused his father.
“I have quite the story to tell you, father,” said Volare with a grin.
“Clearly! I too have…things to share,” replied Cal as he peered past Volare’s shoulder towards all the graves.
Volare looked to Ferox, giving the dragon a nod of thanks. Ferox beat his wings hard, launching himself into the air. He looked back to his father, a wave of relief washing over him.
“You promised me we’d have streaky keef meat father, and I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” said Volare with a huge grin.
Calidum, tears still flowing down his cheeks, nodded and smiled back.
“Come inside, my son, I am not a man to let a promise go unfulfilled,” said Cal.
The two men, arms around each other, walked into their home.
“I can’t wait to hear how you got yourself that armour and sword son…and a dragon no less,” said Cal as he gave Volare’s black plate a poke.
“Oh father, you won’t believe the half of it. But something tells me, our journey is only just beginning.”
** Chapter 29 **
Hope In The Shadows
Trajan fearing the worst had decided to sneak into the palace in the City of Kings. His communications, along with the other commanders involved in the negotiations with Volare and the dragon gods, had gone unanswered by the king.
Equally troubling was that an order for their arrest was issued despite their success in the Pointed Forest in ridding the world of darkspawn. There would be no pardon for soldiers and commanders alike, now on the run with no permanent home in Dritura nor any place that would welcome them within Terram lands.
Trajan could not shake the feeling that something terrible was occurring here. He disguised himself as a black plated palace guard, choosing to knock out a man that resembled him unconscious, taking his place for the overnight shift.
Trajan stalked the corridors, red carpet ran the centre of it softening his steps. The palace had always been an overly lavish building, with priceless paintings and sculptures lining its walls. Gold trimmings soaked the eye in a successful attempt to show off wealth of unparalleled measure.
Trajan learned where the king slept for the night, he would sneak into his chambers and confront him directly, a risky move to say the least but he didn’t see any other choice at this point. If he didn’t do something, there would only be another war breaking out.
The servants didn’t dare question his movements, black plated guards were granted a measure of freedom in their movements, expected to take the initiative in the protection of the king. So he passed through the corridors with relative ease, maintaining an expression that suggested he belonged there. He wasn’t sure if he was pulling it off or not but so far, had not been stopped by anyone.
He approached the final set of spiral stairs that would take him to the upper levels, which were guarded by two black plated soldiers, firebrand swords resting on their shoulders.
“You’re late,” one of them said.
“Apologies, got held up,” said Trajan, somewhat unconvincingly. He cursed himself for not being better prepared, but he had no experience with sleuthing.
The guard looked him up and down, considering Trajan for a moment before stepping aside, allowing him to climb the stairs. Trajan wasted no time in stepping past the guard and ascending the stone stairs.
He reached the top, turned the final corner to find a lone black plated guard standing in front of the doors to King Hastam’s chamber. Trajan’s heart was racing now as he approached the guard.
“You’re late,” he said, much the same way as the guard before.
“I know. Sorry,” Trajan said, looking everywhere except at the guard in an attempt to hide his appearance.
“You look different…” the guard commented.
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Trajan, now sweating inside of his plate, looked straight ahead, not turning towards the man.
“I’ve been sick, that’s why I’m late,” said Trajan in the calmest most confident voice he could muster.
“Really? You seemed fine a few days ago. Besides it’s not that, there’s something else about you, I can’t quite…”
Trajan, without warning, turned to the man and punched him square in the face with his gauntleted fist, knocking him unconscious. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, exposing the white parts as he fell backward. Trajan leaped forward, grabbing hold of him and lowering his body slowly.
“By the gods, what am I doing?” he whispered to himself.
Trajan pressed his ear to the door and could barely make out some muffled speech. The king was talking to someone in there. Trajan strained his ears but couldn’t hear anything.
He reached for the handle, pushing against the door with his shoulder as gently as he could, Trajan pried the door ajar. The voices were still too quiet, too distant for him to make out.
He pushed it open wider, poking his head in. Trajan’s eyes grew wide as disbelief took hold of him. He saw King Hastam, now an old sickly looking man with ashen skin, long grey hair and beard, hooked nose and moles littering his face. The king was kneeling before a shadow of black mist and smoke standing before him.
“You have failed me Hastam. You are but a worm, worthless and insignificant to the workings of the cosmos,” scolded the shadow.
“I…I’m sorry Lord Mirardos, please I beg of you, forgive me,” coughed Hastam in reply.
“You have allowed the gods to return to this world, it is unforgivable. You have allowed hope to sprout where there should have been none. I will have your head Hastam, then I will take your essence to feed my armies,” continued Mirardos.
“No! Please! I can do better, I’ll show you! croaked Hastam.
The shadow paused, suddenly turning to look directly at Trajan. The shadow shared the same facial features as the hooded figure from his dream. A veleon Trajan concluded.
