The Blade Heir (Book 1) (34 page)

Despite Silas' hard-won victory, the Draknoir still had the advantage on the battlefield. The horde's numbers exceeded Aldron's, but as more Draknoir became aware their champion had fallen, they began to flee. Panic spread through the Draknoir ranks, and before long the Aldronians pushed their enemies into full retreat back toward the Onyx Mountains. A few warriors and lizard riders held their ground, but they were easily decimated without their dark kin providing support.

Silas watched as his men triumphed over the servants of Memnon and smiled in spite of himself. He ambled over to the fallen overlord and pulled his sword from the Draknoir's side. Rainier trotted over on horseback, bearing cuts and grime all over his face and armor.

"Your Majesty, shall we pursue the Draknoir?" Rainier asked.

Silas thought for a moment. "No, Rainier. The men are spent, as am I. Let the Draks run back to Nasgothar and cower for now."

"Yes, sire." Rainier turned the horse around and relayed the order to the men.

Silas exhaled deeply and sat on the tail of a dead Onyx lizard. He stuck his sword in the ground then wiped the blood from his mouth on his hand. Pain swelled from his ribs, but he briefly lingered on the injury before a deafening roar startled him from behind.

All the men on the field turned to the south and saw it. The silhouettes of two dragons flying in the clouds above the Sea of Lagrimas. Adrenaline surged through Silas' chest when he realized how vulnerable his men were on the open plains. He grabbed his sword and the Draknoir overlord's iron buckler. The men stared at the dragons in a petrified stupor, unmoving until Silas ordered them to find cover.

Rainier galloped near him with Silas' horse in tow. "Come my lord; there is cover in the forest!"

"I am the leader of the Drachengarde, Rainier. It's my sworn duty to rid the world of these devils," Silas replied. He watched the dragons slowly descend just above the water. "Lead the men to the forest. You'll be safe there."

"But, sir—"

"Do as I say, Rainier! Go!"

Rainier nodded, heading to the nearby forest while ordering the rest of the army to follow, but many of the Aldronians stayed behind to aid their Prince.

After failing to persuade them to flee, Silas let the men stay, but ordered everyone to bear shields for the coming fire. The men assembled behind him in a tightly packed semicircle—each man holding his shield to protect the soldier beside him. They stood still for a time, waiting for the dragons to fly closer to their position.

"Archers, draw your bows," Silas ordered. "Shield yourselves from the first flames then loose your arrows. Aim for the eyes and wings if you can."

The dragons passed the shoreline, now only a half mile from Silas and his army. Unexpectedly, one of the dragons roared at the other and broke away from its partner's side. It flew northeast, toward Nasgothar without looking back. The remaining dragon continued its flight to Ithileo. The dragon's red scales shimmered in the afternoon sunlight, and its large horns cast a devilish shadow over the ground as it approached. Silas' heart thumped loudly in his throat, but he feigned courage for the sake of his frightened men.

"The first blast will be the most powerful," Silas whispered to them. "Our greatest chance to defeat it will be before the second blast. We must fell this beast before then. Do you understand?"

All the men nodded and held their weapons and shields at the ready.

"Brace yourselves." Silas crouched and shielded his body with the buckler. The red dragon swooped down in an instant and exhaled a stream of fire on the shielded semicircle with all the force of its massive lungs.

The iron shields deflected the fire, but some of the flames still slipped through the cracks of the shielded formation and singed the men's bodies. When the dragon passed over them, Silas dropped his smoldering shield and ordered the archers to release their arrows. The few who had not suffered burns followed the order, sending a small volley at the dragon. But the flying behemoth was undeterred by the dozens of arrows that pierced its face and backside. It continued on a course to the forest, where Rainier and the rest of the army took refuge. Silas chased the dragon through the corpse-strewn battlefield, screaming to divert its attention. A sudden feeling of relief and panic washed over him when the red dragon banked to the right and came straight at him. He stood defenseless as the huge demon approached with jaws gaping wide.

Thousands of arrows flew out from the forest and quickly descended on the dragon's wings, piercing the thin membranes connected to the arms. The dragon screeched in pain, but continued with amazing speed at Silas. He ordered the men behind him to shoot the dragon's wings, praying it would be enough to cease its charge. The men fired their crossbows and longbows at the beast's wings. Silas watched the arrows perforate and tear through the membranes, causing the dragon to lose its balance and fall on its face.

The crashing dragon rolled uncontrollably toward Silas, who jumped out of the way to avoid impact. Piles of dirt and grass were kicked up by the dragon's enormous tail as it attempted to stand. It let out a guttural roar and whipped its large spiked tail at the Aldronians. Several men flew through the air and crashed into the waters of Lagrimas. The monster then clasped its jaws on a fleeing soldier and swallowed the man whole.

Silas stood from the ground and approached the raging dragon slowly, hoping to somehow kill it before being detected. But the plan failed as the dragon turned its horned head toward him and hissed. He barely sidestepped the creature's snapping jaws. The dragon turned around and flicked its giant tail at Silas' feet. He jumped to avoid the attack and inadvertently mounted the tail. The dragon swiped the tail from side to side to shake him off, but Silas hung on a long spike and stuck his sword into the tail. He fell off the tail as the red dragon convulsed and roared in agony.

Rainier and the army exited the forest and ran to their brothers' aid. They hurled spears and loosed arrows into the wounded dragon's side. The attacks visibly annoyed the dragon, and it let out a quick burst of fire. The flames engulfed three riders and wounded the rest, including Rainier. The field marshal was thrown off his steed and knocked out when he hit the ground.

Silas clutched his aching ribs and dashed toward the dragon's head. He heard the creature suck air into its nostrils for another fiery blast, but he prevented the attack by cutting the monster's scaly face with his sword. When it reared back in pain, Silas jumped and grabbed one of the horns to hoist himself onto the head. The red beast shook its head frantically to dismount him, using the small claws on its wings to scratch him off. But Silas held on to the horn and avoided the dragon's talons long enough to get a firm grip on its neck with his legs. He let go of the horn, and with his sword in both hands, plunged the blade into the base of the dragon's skull.

The red dragon's wings shot up into the air as its body heaved in spasms. Silas pushed the sword further into the dragon's cranium and with a final gurgled wheeze, the beast's head fell to the ground and its body slumped forward. Silas twitched nervously from the vicious ordeal and his muscles tensed with pain. He dismounted the dragon's head, closely watching the fallen creature for any sign of life. When it made no movement, Silas dropped to his knees and exhaled deeply. The surviving Aldronians nearby came to his side, lifting him away from the dead dragon. His ribs twinged when his men helped him sit on a rock to rest.

A disheveled, lanky esquire walked over to him with Rainier, who leaned against the esquire for support as he walked. The lower right side of the marshal's face had been badly burned. He looked at Silas with dreary eyes and talked in a pained whisper.

"You have defeated a great dragon of Ghadarya, sire. A feat not performed in ages and worthy of remembrance," Rainier said, forcing a smile.

"It is not a great enough feat, Rainier. There are still more to be slain before this war is over," Silas replied. He watched as tired, wounded soldiers limped about and sobbed at the loss of their friends in battle. The urge to raise their spirits tugged at him. He painfully rose to his feet and stood on the rock.

"Men of Aldron, take heed of my words!" Silas shouted. Every man on the field turned toward him. "It was by Yéwa's hand that the Draks and this dragon fell before our feet. And by his will Ghadarya and Nasgothar will fall!" Silas raised his sword into the air. "Long live Aldron and the servants of Yéwa!"

"Long live Aldron!" the men yelled in unison.

His heart was strengthened by the soldiers' restored morale and resolve. The future looked bleak with the return of the dragons, but he chose not to despair. Not when a dead dragon lay on the battlefield and the Draknoir no longer held sway in Ithileo. Aldron will stand strong and his triumphant return to the grand city would bring hope of victory to all.

"Gather what provisions and weapons from the dead you can. Tonight we rest and bury our dead. Tomorrow we march back to Aldron." Silas said to all the men. He sheathed his sword and watched them scatter to search the area. His stomach wrenched at the sight of so many dead Aldronians. He feared the sight would be a common one in his future.

Do not leave us, Yéwa
...
not in our greatest need ...

Giant plumes of black smoke rising from Aldron frightened both Violet and Avani as the city came into view from the Barren Road. When they reached the city gates, Violet witnessed frenzied Aldronians running around tending to small fires and badly burned citizens. They both dismounted their horses amid the chaotic scene and managed to find a stable hand willing to take their horses.

"What's happened here?" Avani questioned the stable hand.

"It's awful, my lady. Two dragons attacked the city. I heard one of them fell in the Eastern Yards. The other flew off back to its hellish kin in Nasgothar, no doubt," the shaken stable hand recounted.

"One of the dragons was killed in the city?" Violet asked.

"Aye, madame. Felled by a dwarf no less."

"Thank you for your help," Avani said, handing the stable hand two decas.

Violet turned to the winding street behind them and covered her mouth to avoid the stench of burnt flesh. Gray houses on the street stood ominously with no signs of life stirring inside. They rounded a corner on their path and Violet gasped in horror. The once royal square before the gates of Gilead Palace was a charred mess littered with ash and burnt corpses. The luxurious houses of the city's wealthiest patrons were reduced to rubble. Beyond the square, buildings in the southern section of Aldron still burned like large candles in the distance.

Violet ran to the edge of the square and looked over the walls at Gilead Palace. To her relief, it still stood as prominently as before, but its bastions and eastern wing were tarnished by the black scars of dragon fire. Tears streamed down her cheeks at the thought of how many innocents died in the pillage.

"The dragons have risen from their slumber," Avani said, walking up beside her.

"Then our errand has become much more dire," Violet said, wiping her eyes.

"We must find what we need for the Requiem Sword and leave this place, Violet. Or more cities will be razed by the dragons."

"Yes, you're right, Avani," Violet replied. She turned and looked at the elf princess, tightening her expression. "But first, we will find King Alfryd."

Epilogue

High above the ruins of Arkadeus—the former stronghold of Nasgothar and Ghadarya—Albekanar rode the wind currents then descended with three dragons from different tribes. On his backside rode Lord Memnon, jubilant to see the desolate fortress of his ancestor. Despite their massive size, the dragons landed gracefully in the courtyard. Vines and lichen covered the stone walls of Arkadeus, reminding Memnon of how long the glory of Nasgothar had laid dormant.

Albekanar lowered his head to the ground, allowing Memnon to dismount. The Draknoir sorcerer spun around slowly, gazing at every corner of the courtyard and finally settling his eyes on the dry fountain in the center. He walked up to the fountain, placing his scaly hands on the brim and sniffed the air.

"This fountain once ran with the blood of our enemies. I can still smell the stink of their flesh," Memnon said, turning to Albekanar.

"Yes, in the days of our ancestors, this was our altar to Nergoth," Albekanar replied

Memnon nodded and walked to the arched doorway between two staircases on the opposite end of the courtyard. His green robe flowed elegantly along the cracked ground as he strode. Peering into the darkness beyond the doorway, he saw a faint blue mist hovering above the ground at the end of the corridor. He bared his sharp teeth in delight.

"Kraegyn's spirit still lingers in these halls." Memnon stared at the mist, mesmerized by its glow.

"Ever has our lord haunted this place, waiting for release from the Abode of Shadows," Gerudos, the green-scaled dragon, said.

"He waits for you, son of Scipio," Albekanar said, eyeing the sorcerer.