Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels Page 2

The spiders halted at the entrance to the bridge. Backing up, Cyrus shot a look behind him and saw two guardians at the other end of the span. Spiders forgotten, Cy fixated on the ten foot tall giants blocking their passage. Seemingly hewn out of living rock, they stood silent guard along the path to the Dragonlord.

  “Attack them!” cried a high pitched voice. With some alarm, he realized it was Angelique, and she began to charge across the bridge.

  “Wait!” Orion’s voice boomed over the army, and some of them actually halted — including, surprisingly, Angelique herself. A few continued to charge — one of the dark elves, a gnome and two human healers.

  Approaching the guardians, the dark elf was half the size of his opponent and the two foot tall gnome disappeared under the foot of a rock giant. The dark elf brought his sword against the giant on the left. One of the humans, a healer, whose battle abilities were limited, made the decision to engage in the melee. A giant’s arm swept out, knocking the healer off the bridge and into the magma below. With a scream, he dropped into the lava, and his pale skin sank under the fiery surface.

  Horrified, they watched as the giants overpowered the dark elf and the other human and sent them both to a similar fate. As they disappeared below the surface of the lake of fire, a hush fell over the ragtag army.

  A few screams filled the cave as an air of panic set in on the expedition. Broken bones and gashes could be healed by a mending spell. Powerful healers even possessed the ability to reverse death. Those were rare. Death and pain still held fear for adventurers, who were by nature a blindly optimistic lot. The less veteran among them had not faced this before.

  Cyrus could see the panic moving through the crowd. “This is about to get very ugly,” he breathed.

  “No doubt.” Narstron raised his sword. “For a group of people that consider themselves adventurers, I don’t think these fresh faced rubes have tasted the downside of ‘adventure’.”

  Looking back Cyrus saw the spiders had formed a wall blocking the chamber they had entered from, pincers jutting hungrily toward them.

  “They’re servants of Ashan’agar,” Orion’s voice came from beside him. “You know who he is?”

  Cy nodded. “The Dragonlord exiled from the dragon kingdom in the southern lands. He was king of the dragon city Hewat at one point, wasn’t he?”

  “He was. According to rumor, something happened in their most sacred temple, south of their city in the mountains — something that caused a shakeup in Hewat about fifty years ago. He was exiled by the new Dragonlord and mystically sealed in this cave.”

  “Any idea what he did?” Narstron’s face was screwed in concentration as he asked the question.

  “No idea.” Orion shook his head. “No one has contact with the dragon kingdom. They are not known for kindness to so-called ‘lesser beings’, so all we have are rumors and speculation.’’ He focused back on Cyrus. “Everything in these caves is sworn to his service, and they obey his will. And apparently his will is that we go forward.” Orion’s expression twisted as he looked back at the spiders still advancing slowly toward them.

  A call came from across the army, bringing their attention back to the rock giants in front of them. “No need to panic!” called the voice of the oblivious Angelique. “Run through them!”

  Narstron rolled his eyes as Andren shrugged and Cyrus’s jaw dropped in shock. The panic in the front ranks was evident and the fore of the army began to charge again. Orion’s shouted plea for calm was drowned out in the commotion caused by the forward movement of the army-turned-mob.

  Taking one last look back at the wall of spiders guarding the entry to the bridge, Cyrus started moving forward. He didn’t fight to the front of the battle line, afraid to push any of the combatants off the bridge and to their deaths.

  The rock giants were swinging their massive fists, battering their attackers and taking little damage to show for it. Every few seconds, one of their blows would land, flinging some poor soul off the bridge and into fiery death below. A few fortunate members of the force were squeezing between the giants and into the caves beyond.

  Cyrus watched, incredulous, as the one of the giants knocked several of their number off the bridge. He was close enough now… and the giant was leaning over, beginning to straighten up after swinging low to send combatants into the lava.

  Cyrus charged at the back of the rock giant. Sure that he was invincible, the giant didn’t even bother watching his back. Cy hit him full force, slamming his pauldrons into the back of the giant’s knees, buckling them. It wasn’t a blow that could cause damage to the craggy skin of the giant — in any other circumstances, the rocky creature would have been able to fall to one knee, get up and smite him. Unfortunately for the giant, he was in a position where balance mattered. Arms pinwheeling, the giant plummeted into the lava which he had gloried in sending his foes.

  Turning to face the remaining fiend, Cyrus watched as Narstron and Orion plunged blades through both its legs, breaking through the external layer of rock and dropping it to its knees facing the army. He watched as the giant fell amid a bevy of blades.

  “Nice work, Cyrus. Never seen anyone take a rock giant solo before.” Orion’s eyebrows were raised, impressed.

  “The rest of our army ran through there,” Cy brushed off the praise, focusing on the trouble ahead.

  “Guess we better keep moving.” Orion was back to business.

  They ran to catch up, dodging through the caves. They crossed another bridge to an island in the middle of the lava; a wall surrounded the island, extending hundreds of feet to the ceiling of the chamber. It was not a natural formation and even in the dim light of magma and fire it appeared to be made of a material much stronger than stone or brick.

  They crossed under a smaller gate built into the wall and entered an enormous chamber with a circular platform raised in the midst of the magma that encircled the room. Charging through the arched entryway, Cyrus tumbled into the chamber just as somebody was half leaving — half their body flew past him, the other half was still lying on the floor at the dragon’s feet, severed by the claws of the beast. The balance of their force was huddled inside the archway, stunned at the sight before them.

  Cyrus had never seen a dragon before — not a real one. He had seen a few drakes and wurms; pale shadows, imitations of dragon kind. There were few dragons in the north, preferring to live among their own in the southern lands. Ashan’agar was a dark red color with scales as big as Cyrus’s helm, a body fifty feet long with a long neck extending twenty feet from his body and spines that protruded from his back and ran from his neck to the end of his tail.

  The Dragonlord’s head was focused on two spell casters on the other side of the chamber. The air around its head began to distort, and a gout of flame shot from its mouth toward its prey. The flames consumed the spell casters, immolating them. They dropped to the ground and the fires consumed them within seconds until there was nothing left but a pile of ashes.

  “Interlopers!” came a deep roar. It took Cyrus a moment to realize it was coming from inside his own head.

  He struck at the belly of Ashan’agar. Narstron followed him, each of them hacking at the thick scales. A roar blasted through the cavern and the dragon began to turn, trying to face the foes plaguing him. He spread his wings, filling the room from end to end and reared up on his hind legs, exposing Cy and Narstron to his piercing glare.

  They scrambled for cover, running between the dragon’s legs. Cy took a moment to ram his sword between two of the scales of the beast’s belly, prompting a scream that shook the cavern.

  Tail whipping, the dragon set down from the attack as Cy and Narstron hid behind his ankles and started hacking away. They could see Orion standing in the archway, firing arrows at the dragon. Only about one in four was finding its way between the scales but it was causing enough irritation to split Ashan’agar’s attention.

  A high-pitched warcry caught Cyrus by surprise. A woman, clad in shining armor, leapt from
the archway with a two-handed sword clutched in her hands. The jump she made was, by far, too much for a human to accomplish. Her sword drove into the shoulder of Ashan’agar and her feet found purchase between the scales. Possessed of extreme litheness the elf perched on the dragon’s shoulder, driving her sword deeper into the wound she had created.

  Cyrus looked over to see Niamh gathering up survivors. He watched a gust of wind surround her and grow to the intensity of a tornado with her at the center. When the winds receded she and the group surrounding her were gone, leaving only a handful of the army’s remnants behind.

  “Niamh is teleporting the survivors out!” Cy’s shout to Narstron was barely audible over the screeching of the dragon.

  “She what?” The dwarf was behind the leg of the dragon. “Looks like she and the others disappeared!”

  “She teleported!” Cyrus shouted back. “She’s a druid; they can do that! She’s getting the survivors to safety!” The tail of the dragon swept down, narrowly missing the warriors.

  “I could use a little safety meself!”

  Cyrus looked up at the woman on the dragon’s shoulder. It was an elven woman, but not Angelique in her ornate armor. He could see blond hair drawn into a ponytail, waving back and forth with the frenzied movement of the Dragonlord.

  Ashan’agar had decided she was the greatest threat facing him and was scrambling to move his head into position to deal with her. As the long neck waved the elf removed her sword and dropped to the ground behind the dragon’s front left leg. She rolled perfectly out of the fall and sprang to her feet in a run toward the back of the dragon, where Cyrus and Narstron were both hacking away trying to find weaknesses.

  Dodging behind the leg on the same side as Cyrus, he acknowledged her with a shout. “Nice work!” She fixed him with a momentary glare as she passed and turned to bring her sword to bear with an artistry that Cyrus had never seen, even from the instructors at the Society of Arms. Her first three strikes did more damage than all of his and Narstron’s efforts combined, biting through the layer of armored scaling and into the flesh beneath it.

  “Nice of you to join us, Vara.” Narstron buried his sword once more. As the dragon’s leg lifted, the dwarf tugged the sword back from the moving limb. “You could have stayed on the shoulder, though; we have things firmly in hand here.” Cy realized with a shock that she was the fourth member of Orion’s party, the one who had been hidden in the shadows.

  “Based on the damage you seem to have inflicted,” her voice came, taut and imperious, “it appears that the two of you have only one thing in your hands, and it is most certainly not your swords.” The shadow of a smile graced her lips. “Why don’t you,” she said to Cy with a mocking sweetness, “concentrate your efforts where I just cut that scale off? You’ll have better luck with that rusty butcher’s knife you’re carrying now that I’ve cleared the way.”

  “I know that we’re facing a dragon here,” Narstron said with annoyance. “But you could at least try and buck your nature by not being a pretentious elf.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said without a trace of irony or sincerity. “Should I say ‘please’ when I direct you to help me kill our large and implacable foe? Would that help assuage that sense of inferiority dwarves carry like a shield anytime someone instructs you toward intelligent action?”

  Narstron’s reply was swallowed in the next bellow of the dragon. Having shifted his focus to the trio striking at his legs, Ashan’agar began to sidestep, trying to expose the threats beneath him. Unfortunately for the dragon they moved more quickly than he did; although it did prevent them from attacking him further.

  As they passed in a circle, Cyrus couldn’t help but be reminded of a dog chasing its tail. A multi-ton, scaly, fire breathing, super-intelligent dog that commands every beast in a several mile radius chasing its tail, Cyrus corrected. Even facing death he couldn’t help but chuckle at what had to look absurd to anyone watching. Vara, only inches away, heard his laugh and cast a look at him that branded him an idiot.

  Ashan’agar turned swiftly in the opposite direction. The dragon brought a claw around, felling Narstron; a geyser of blood erupted from the dwarf’s abdomen as he fell.

  The Dragonlord bellowed in triumph. “Fools! Witness the death of those who oppose me!”

  “Go!” Blood spurted from between Narstron’s fingers as he tried to sit up and failed. With his free hand, the dwarf waved at Cyrus to keep moving.

  Cyrus, shocked, looked to Vara for guidance. “Don’t stop running,” she said. The ice in her eyes suppressed his concern. An unexpected step by the dragon left them exposed for a moment and Vara’s reflexes allowed her to shove Cyrus with a surprising amount of force back under the dragon to continue the pattern.

  “The only thing stopping him from finishing your dwarven friend is us,” she said as she shoved Cyrus once more, herding him under the dragon’s belly.

  Cy’s gaze flitted to the archway. The bridge into the chamber was packed with spiders and rock giants, clawing to get past Orion and the other defenders. Selene was moving to drag Narstron off the platform while Ashan’agar was distracted by Cyrus and Vara.

  Ignoring the shout of protest from Vara (“Stay away from the foot, you fool!”), he jumped on Ashan’agar’s left hind leg and jammed his sword as hard as he could into the gap between the center claw and the scales on the middle toe.

  He rolled off the foot and looked up to find the guardians on the bridge barely holding. Narstron was assisting them after Selene had healed him but they were outnumbered and had lost several of their number to the lava. Cyrus looked up to see the full anger of Ashan’agar, former king of the dragons.

  The Dragonlord’s eyes locked onto his, pools of swirling black looking into the depths of him. “I see you, Cyrus Davidon,” he said, his harsh voice now melodic. “I can hear your thoughts. Serve me, and I will spare your life.”

  The face came closer to Cyrus, and he could see every scale. Spikes jutted from the top of the dragon’s head as it slithered toward him, snakelike. It moved slowly, eyes fixated on him. It was such a sweet sound, the dragon’s voice in his head. “I have many treasures…”

  A flash of images forced their way into the warrior’s mind. A flaming staff, a glowing sword, gold, coins, and… the Serpent’s Bane. “I know what you seek, Cyrus Davidon… I have it, you know… the Serpent’s Bane…”

  “I do,” the warrior said, motionless, eyes focused on the Dragonlord’s.

  “Tell me you aren’t marrying this thing!” Vara struck at Ashan’agar’s legs, but the dragon was hindering her efforts with wild swings of his tail.

  “Kill her for me, Cyrus Davidon,” the Dragonlord’s voice boomed. “Kill the others, be my General and lead my armies… serve me… be my emissary and walk where I cannot… do my work…” The face grew closer and closer. “…and I will give you the Serpent’s Bane… and all else your heart desires… I will give you purpose…”

  Cyrus smiled at the dragon’s face, now only a foot from his, luxuriating in the thought of possessing what he came here for. “No,” the warrior said, all dreaminess gone from his voice.

  The dragon’s head recoiled but it was too late. Cyrus plunged forward from his motionless position with reflexes far beyond those of a normal human. His sword was raised and brought down in the blink of an eye — which in the case of Ashan’agar, was the last blink his right eye ever performed. Cyrus’s sword ruptured the eyelid and punctured the dragon’s eye.

  A scream filled the cavern and Cyrus’s head, driving the warrior back. So stunned was he that Cyrus relinquished the grip on his sword’s hilt as the dragon’s head whipped in agony. In a fit of rage the Dragonlord began to flap his wings and rose from the ground in a shuddering, hovering flight.

  The force of the air from the wings kept Cyrus on his knees until he felt strong hands reach under his arms and drag him to his feet. “No bowing down to the Dragonlord today, brave warrior,” Vara’s quiet voice breathed in his ear. He
staggered to his feet and braced himself against the wind from the beating wings.

  “Fool!” came Ashan’agar’s voice once more in his mind. “I would have given you everything you sought!”

  “I always wanted to be the slave of an oversized snake,” Cyrus tossed back.

  “…Impudence…” came the voice in his mind. “I will kill all of you for this insult.”

  “And I thought we were headed for a nice cup of tea.”

  “Cyrus! Vara! Over here!” Cy turned back to the bridge just in time to see Niamh running full tilt — on air! — over the heads of the attacking giants and spiders. “Hurry!” The druid landed behind the line of defenders on the bridge. Orion and Narstron were anchoring the ends closest to the edge, taking the greatest personal risk but each successfully trading blows with a giant — the rest of which were bottlenecked by Narstron and Orion’s efforts.

  Between the two giants in the front of the line, a few spell casters poured magic into the fray and kept the spiders from making headway around the rock giants. The druid began casting her teleport spell again — Cyrus and Vara had seconds to make it to them before they would be gone.

  “Hurry!” Vara called above the sounds of battle, wind and raging dragon. Her voice was strained; the urgency unmistakable and a distinct contrast from the calm she had displayed to this point. Cyrus took one last look past the dragon, at the glint that he knew was the treasure horde.

  Turning his focus back to the archway, Cyrus realized there was no way he could make it in time. Vara jumped, missing the archway by inches and landing with a sword swipe that cleared the spiders attacking the middle of the defenders line.

  He chanced to look back and saw the dragon drawing a deep breath, ready to spew the fire Cyrus was certain would consume him — and watched as Ashan’agar staggered from a blast of ice that hit the dragon in the face, rocking him back just enough in his hovering flight to send him into a spin. The Dragonlord crashed to the ground, struggling to get back to his feet.

  Charging forward, Cyrus passed Niamh, who winked at him while brushing the frost from the hand she had cast the spell with. She began to murmur an incantation as Cyrus took his place in the middle of the line and plugged the gap next to Vara. He knew Niamh’s teleport spell was coming quickly, and that they only needed to hold for a few seconds…