Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels Page 11

  Letting out a cry of its own, it made to stab him with its wrist bone, and he knocked it aside so brusquely that it broke the whole arm off at the shoulder socket. Forcing the sword across its jaw, he severed the maxilla from the mandible. The screaming stopped. He moved his right foot between its legs, forcing it to take a step back.

  He brought his hands around and crushed the ghoul’s skull with the hilt of his sword and brought the other arm around its neck, pinning it against his leg. He brought his hands up above his head and hammered them down, shattering the skeleton into pieces, scattering them over the forest’s floor. The bones clattered against each other as they rolled across the wet grass.

  The sound of slow clapping of armored gauntlets broke him out of his stunned silence. “Isn’t facing your childish fears much more fun than staring at the walls all night?”

  His heavy breathing subsided, Cyrus turned to face the dark knight. “How did you know I could best this fiend?”

  Terian shrugged again, a noncommittal movement of his shoulders. “I assumed you could because I can. And since it was easy for me, I figured you could at least kill it without dying.” More howls issued through the forest. “If you’d like, we can draw in some more.”

  Cyrus thought about it for a minute. He drew his sword to a fighting position. “I’d like that very much.” Seeing the look of hungry anticipation in the dark elf’s eyes, he knew that Terian understood the call to war better than anyone else in Sanctuary.

  They slayed ghouls until daybreak. Making their way back to Sanctuary by the dawn’s light, Cyrus’s heart felt somewhat lightened. He made his way back to his quarters in a veritable fog, and dropped into bed without taking off his armor. He fell into a deep, restful sleep, and did not wake until the next morning.

  16

  Cyrus couldn’t believe how fast the last six months had gone. He had settled into a routine with Sanctuary — every day he spent adventuring in different areas of Arkaria, participating in the occasional Alliance expeditions and even more occasional (lately) Sanctuary expeditions to break up the regularity of his small group adventures. He was home almost every night at Sanctuary, save for once when he stayed at the old Kings guildhall after a long excursion to the Inculta desert in the far south-east, and with no druid or wizard available to bring him home afterward. That had been a long night, filled with unpleasant memories.

  He, Niamh, Curatio, J’anda and Terian walked across the Mountains of Nartanis, on their way to an outlying goblin outpost on a nearby peak. His most frequent adventures seemed to be with officers of Sanctuary — and he’d enjoyed every minute of it. Curatio had proven himself the most skilled and reliable healer Cyrus had ever worked with, effortlessly casting mending spells that seemed to have more power than those of other healers. Andren had proved less reliable of late, spending the months since Narstron’s death in even more of an alcohol-fueled haze than before.

  Coming over a hill, Terian, who was leading the party, indicated for them to halt. He was crouching behind a rock and gesturing for the rest of them to do the same. For Cyrus it wasn’t even a question — he grabbed Niamh and J’anda and moved them bodily to the nearest cover. Curatio was already diving behind a boulder. They made it just in time.

  Sweeping above them, scales as black as obsidian, was a dragon. It was at least as large as Ashan’agar, Cy reflected. It swept over them in a lazy flight, flapping its wings and landing just beyond them, close to the edge of a lake of lava.

  Terian leaned against the rock, facing them. “It’s Kalam. Sighting him here is an incredible find.” The dark knight was pensive for a moment. “I bet he has a lair close by.”

  “How did you know his name?” Cyrus hissed. “Terian’s Dragon Compendium?”

  The dark knight shrugged, and Cyrus watched as Kalam lay down less than one hundred feet from the lake of lava. A series of boulders had been pushed into a circle that was almost nest-like. Even at this distance, Cyrus could see the glint of objects in a corner of it, and he knew that Kalam was a hoarder of treasures, just like every other dragon.

  “What the hell is this beast doing out of the southern lands?” Cyrus wondered.

  “And so close to the lair of our friend Ashan’agar?” Niamh said with a smile.

  “I would be willing to bet,” Terian changed the subject, “that a great many guilds would love to get a shot at a black dragon.” He looked around nervously. “Only the secluded location is keeping him alive right now. If any of the biggest guilds like Amarath’s Raiders, Endeavor, or Burnt Offerings knew where he was, he’d be dead and they’d be picking that nest clean.” He paused. “We can have a hundred people from Sanctuary out here in half an hour.”

  Cyrus shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, chewing his lip, “that’s not going to cut it with a dragon like this. Trust me. We need aid from the Alliance if we want a chance of taking him down without losing a lot of people.”

  Terian looked at him, nostrils flaring. “We have a shot to take him for Sanctuary, and your first instinct is to turn him over to Goliath?”

  “I doubt they’re that dishonorable, Terian,” Cyrus said. “If we call for aid, the Alliance rules will bind them; we’ll end up splitting the loot, but it’s better than—” he raised a hand to cut off Terian’s already forthcoming reply — “it’s better than losing guildmates trying to bring this bastard down or having to retreat and leaving bodies on the ground. We need to be careful, and we need more people to succeed.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Terian relented. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if Goliath ends up stealing everything.”

  Cyrus turned to Niamh. “We need a Sanctuary officer to get the Alliance involved. Will you get word to the other guilds?”

  Niamh nodded. “The Daring and Goliath are both located in Reikonos. I’ll take Curatio and we’ll go now.” She and Curatio were whisked away on the wind of her spell, leaving Cyrus, J’anda and Terian watching the nest of the dragon.

  “At some point,” Cyrus said with a curious look at Terian, “maybe you can share with me why you despise the Alliance.”

  Terian was watching Kalam from behind a boulder. The dark elf stiffened at Cyrus’s inquiry, but did not turn back to answer him at first.

  Cyrus exchanged a look with J’anda, who shrugged, wearing the illusion of a dwarf. “Just because I’m a dark elf,” the enchanter said, “don’t expect me to understand him.”

  “Why do you hide that you’re a dark elf?” Cyrus asked J’anda.

  “Meh.” The enchanter looked away. “It’s not that I’m ashamed, by any means, but let’s face it: dark elves are not appreciated in the world outside Saekaj Sovar. After I got beaten in Reikonos twice I decided that my dark elven pride was best displayed elsewhere.”

  Terian snorted. “So much for being yourself.”

  J’anda smiled. “Why would you ever want to be yourself, when there are so many more interesting people to be?” With a flick of his fingers, the dwarven illusion disappeared and J’anda had become a mirror image of Terian himself.

  The dark knight shook his head in annoyance. “Although your looks have improved in the last thirty seconds, I have no patience for people who are not what they appear to be.” The dark elf looked back at Cyrus. “Which is, by the way, the answer to your question about why I despise the Alliance.”

  Cyrus looked at Terian, befuddled. “Huh?”

  There was a long silence. Terian seemed to be pondering the black dragon, but then turned to face Cyrus. “I was there when the Alliance was formed. It was created with the best intentions. Three guilds, all of whom wanted to grow and be of assistance to each other, the heads of which were longtime friends, decided to become formal allies. Sanctuary, the Daring and Goliath each brought something different to the table, but it was a partnership. If one was in need, the others were there. It started nobly,” Terian continued, far off look in his eyes. “Unfortunately, that was a long time ago.”

  “I still don’t understand
,” Cyrus interrupted, “What you mean when you say they’re not who they say they are?”

  “He’s just jealous,” J’anda said, dispersing his Terian illusion in favor of an elven appearance.

  “I have no problem with the Daring or even most of the rank and file of Goliath.” The dark knight’s eyes grew intense. “But Goliath’s officers… they may appear to be allies, but I assure you they are not. Somewhere along the way the ideals of friendship and mutual assistance that was the core of the Alliance at its founding got perverted by their greed and lust for power.” Terian looked back down the slope to check on the sleeping dragon. “Now we’re allies in name only.” The dark elf looked back to fix his gaze on Cyrus’s eyes. “Or did you think that the lack of attendance at Enterra was a one time occurrence?”

  “I have tried not to think about that night,” Cyrus answered, face frozen.

  “Well,” Terian said, “try not to think about this, then. Before Alaric and the rest of us came charging to the rescue that night, he sent a messenger to Goliath asking for assistance. Their whole complement was at their guildhall; one of their officers, Tolada, sent his apologies — he said they were unable to help.”

  “Wait a minute,” Cyrus said, jaw tensing. “To opt out of the invasion was one thing. But you’re telling me they knew we were in dire need, and chose not to come to our aid?”

  Terian’s smirk stretched across his face. “Doesn’t it feel good to know that you have allies that will be there for you no matter what?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. He straightened. “I believe our first wave of reinforcements just landed.”

  Looking up the hill behind them, Cyrus saw Curatio leading the way through the rocky terrain above the dragon’s nest. The elf made his way down the hill, minding his footing. Cyrus could see Vaste standing head and shoulders above the rest of the reinforcements. A blinding flash of light shone off the armor of a female elf, and Cyrus knew by the blond hair that Vara was among them. Andren also made his way down, in the company of Nyad and below her, Brevis. Cyrus felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Orion!” He turned with a start. “Glad you’re here. Look what we found — or should I say what almost found us.”

  “I see.” Orion squinted against the sunlight. “Looks like we’re perfectly positioned. He won’t see us forming up from back here.” He turned to Cyrus. “Pretty exciting, isn’t it, leading your first attack?”

  Cyrus’s jaw dropped. “What are you talking about? I’m not leading this.”

  Orion turned serious. “Of course you are. Niamh issued the call for aid you sent out.”

  Cy was shocked. “I just thought we should get an army here, fast. I didn’t plan to lead the attack. He looked at Orion. “Look, you’re Sanctuary’s General, why don’t you take over?”

  Orion froze. The ranger had been absent from Sanctuary frequently over the last six months and had led only one expedition, a boring and overpowered sweep through the pass of the Heia Mountains to the southern lands. With the exception of a few bandit camps and three titans, there had been no resistance at all during their two day march through the pass.

  “I don’t think so,” Orion said, shaking his head. “You called us together, it seems only right that you get the glory. I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he finished as he faded into the burgeoning crowd, which had filled out with the arrival of the Daring.

  “Cyrus,” Erith greeted him. “How are you?” she asked, dropping her voice so low that no one around them could hear her.

  “I’m better,” he answered.

  “Good,” she said, voice loud again. “Now try not to die, will you? I’m in the middle of a good book,” she waved a volume that she held in her hand, “and if I have to heal you mid-battle, I might lose my place.” She paused for a moment. “Or forget to heal you.” A grin split her face. “Either one of those would be bad, but one would be worse for me, I promise you that!” She cackled as she wandered off.

  A dwarf and a dark elf walked side by side with a few others in tow. The dwarf squinted against the sunlight, looking around until his eyes found Curatio. Tapping the dark elf next to him, whose face was hidden in the folds of his brown cloak, the dwarf altered the course of the group toward Curatio.

  “We are here, as called for by the dictates of the Alliance,” the dwarf said, a note of impatience in his voice. “Are you going to organize, Curatio, or are we simply going to sit around and stare at the dragon all day?”

  Curatio smiled at him. “Tolada, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” Try as he might, Cyrus could not detect insincerity in the elf’s greeting.

  The cloaked dark elf reached out with a skeletal hand and laid it upon Tolada’s shoulder. “Now, now,” came the dark elf’s voice, “let us not be hasty or uncivil.” Throwing back the cowl of his cloak, the dark elf revealed a visage that was as skeletal as his hand. His face was old, desiccated, and thin. His cheeks were sunken, eyes almost like slits. When the dark elf smiled, it gave the appearance of a snake that was ready to coil around its prey.

  Curatio nodded. “Pleased to see you as well, Malpravus. Thank you for bringing Goliath along today.”

  The dark elf named Malpravus bowed. “We are pleased to stand with our old allies in so noble an endeavor as striking down one of the dragons. Tell me, Curatio, who among you leads this assault? We should begin as quickly as possible.”

  Curatio looked around before his gaze landed on Cyrus, who felt his blood freeze. “This is one of our newest warriors, Cyrus Davidon.” Curatio looked back to Malpravus. “He’s the one who called us here.”

  “Excellent, excellent,” Malpravus said, almost too quietly for Cyrus to hear. The dark elf’s eyes rested on him and a great rush of discomfort filled Cy as he realized everyone around them was staring at him, waiting.

  Curatio waved for him to join them. Shuffling, Cyrus entered the forming circle of Alliance officers. Elisabeth greeted him with a smile from her place next to Tolada. Cass beamed in support, as did Erith when she was certain no one was looking. Malpravus studied him carefully, still wearing the frozen smile. “So, my boy, do you have a plan?”

  “Ah…” Cyrus looked to find Curatio, Niamh, Terian and Vara all standing behind him. Vara rolled her eyes and looked away, but the others looked at him with encouragement. “I have a few ideas,” Cyrus said, uncertainty causing his voice to quaver. He blushed.

  “I see,” Malpravus said, unconvinced. “Well, having had some experience in facing dragons, perhaps it would be best if I were to… assist you…”

  Cyrus heard perfectly timed twin coughing fits from behind him originating from Terian and Vara. They were silenced quickly by what Cyrus assumed was a glare from Curatio. “No,” Cyrus said with a confidence he didn’t quite feel, “I think I’ve got it well in hand.” This prompted a raised eyebrow from Malpravus, who bowed in acknowledgment.

  Cyrus looked around the circle, taking a deep breath before speaking. “The biggest danger we face in using traditional assault tactics is the dragon’s fire-breathing capability. In order to counteract that—”

  “Wait,” Cass said. “Not all dragons breathe fire. Are we sure this one does?”

  Terian spoke up from behind Cyrus. “This is Kalam, one of Ashan’agar’s former ministers. He is definitely a fire-breather.”

  Cyrus looked back at the dark knight. “Some time you’ll have to explain to me your intimate knowledge of the Dragon Kingdom.” The dark elf shrugged and smiled before Cyrus turned back to face the Alliance Council.

  “Since he does breathe fire,” Cyrus said, “to approach him with standard tactics would be dangerous.” Looking down the hill to where the black dragon lay, Cyrus thought for a moment. “I believe we can nullify that danger with a little advance action.”

  “Excellent.” Malpravus’s voice was smooth and hissing. “Then of course you’ll be willing to be the warrior in front of the dragon, keeping his attention while the rest of our force engages from behind?”

  “And spa
re one of your better armed and equipped warriors from having to face this foe?” Vara shot from behind Cyrus before he could respond.

  Cyrus answered before Malpravus could respond. “I’ll stand before the dragon and keep his attention. It’s my responsibility.”

  Malpravus looked at him with an expression of undisguised pleasure. “My, my, you are quite brave, aren’t you?”

  “In Sanctuary,” Cyrus said, “we accept only the brave. Gather your spell casters and place them behind the rocks surrounding the nest. Once I have the dragon’s attention, engage with all your forces.” As the group began to disperse, Cyrus gestured for Elisabeth to join him.

  Before the ranger reached him, Cyrus felt a strong hand on his shoulder, hauling him around. He faced Vara, whose normally pale complexion was mottled with rage. “He wants you in front of that dragon,” she said without preamble, “because he knows that whoever is in front is most likely to die and he’s trying to spare any of his warriors that fate.” She thrust a finger into his face. “And you,” she said, “were stupid enough to play right into his hand with your stubborn nobility!”

  He blinked at the elf before replying. She had said not a word to him in the last six months. “It’s my first time being lectured by a paladin about not being stubbornly noble. I assumed Malpravus was trying to do something of the sort. But it is my responsibility: I am the leader.” He studied her, seeing the bottled irritation threatening to boil over.

  “I know you called the attack, you troll-brained sack of meat!” She looked at him with incredulity. “That doesn’t mean you have to be the head warrior! Goliath warriors always handle the head warrior duties, because they’re the best equipped to take the hits!” She glared at him. “Now, go to Malpravus and tell him you were wrong, that you want him to do what he’s damned well supposed to do and put his best equipped warrior in front of that bloody dragon!”