Gatekeepers Book 3: Redemption

Damrabe sighed as he gazed at the shriveled husk floating in the air before him. After magnifying his magic with the bloody rose he ingested, Damrabe had easily overwhelmed his father. All it took was to use his weapon to scratch Olafoc’s body and the weapon took care of the rest, draining the blood from Olafoc.

“Alright, now,” Damrabe sighed, glancing around at the shriveled forms of his comrades hovering around him. “I should treat them quickly before any more of them are reduced to dust.” Damrabe plucked the red rose protruding from the second skull’s mouth and held it in his hand before crushing it in his fist. The crushed rose petals gave off a strong scent of blood, and a blood-red mist floated past Damrabe’s talons before settling over the whole area. Like shriveled plums dumped into water, the husks of his comrades quickly filled out and regained their original appearance. Sounds of surprise filled the air as the dragons examined themselves.

“W-what happened?”

“I...I thought I was dead the moment I saw that monster sucking the blood out of me! Why am I...?”

“It looks like we all owe you one, Damrabe.”

Damrabe turned around and saw a dragon decked out in ebony-black armor inlaid with swirling ivory designs hovering in the air before him. The dragon removed the mask-like visor covering his face and Damrabe realized it was Vinzgar.

Vinzgar’s bloodshot red eyes were focused on the weapon held in Damrabe’s hands. “This is only the second time I’ve seen you wielding that weapon,” he growled softly. “I presume you have your reasons for using it now?”

Damrabe sighed as he tightened his grip on the weapon. The bony handle cracked before the entire scythe shattered into a blood-red mist that quickly dispersed through the night sky. “I’ll say,” he responded in a tired tone. He pointed over his shoulder at the one remaining husk. “Take a look at who this ‘Río’ fellow is.”

Perplexed, Vinzgar floated over to the husk and peered closely at the face, which had been peeled back from the head to reveal another sunken face inside. Vinzgar uttered a soft growl. “Well, I’ll be damned. It seems that we had someone masquerading as the Rogue King.”

“That’s right,” Damrabe said, coming over to hover at Vinzgar’s side. “This bastard is none other than my birth father, Olafoc. Vinkex struck a deal with him to take the Rogue King’s place so Vinkex could gain control of his followers.”

“Meaning that if we show the Rogue King’s followers that the one they’ve been listening to so far is a fake, they’ll turn on Vinkex?”

“It’s highly likely,” Damrabe responded, nodding.

“He’s still alive, right?” Vinzgar questioned, prodding at the mummified skin with a talon. “It would be better for us if he is, so we can force some information out of him.”

“Yeah, he is,” Damrabe answered with a snort. “He’s in the same state you were in mere moments ago. I thought it was a fitting punishment for what he did to you and the others.” The two of them looked at the fake Rogue King for a few more moments before Damrabe sighed again. “I heard that you were with Prince Drax and Reothad. What happened to them? Surely they didn’t fall victim to my father?”

Vinzgar shook his head. “To be honest, I have no idea what happened to the Stormfang brat. When that blood-sucking monster first showed up and started wiping out my troops, he was right by my side as we charged at him. However, at some point, I just blinked and he was gone. There wasn’t a trace of his presence anywhere.”

A worried growl rose up Damrabe’s throat. “That’s troublesome; I don’t think Drax would leave a battlefield like that. I’m sure some enemy must’ve done something to him. Either that, or something else came up that he didn’t have the time to tell us about.”

Vinzgar nodded before pointed off in a random direction to his side. “As for, Reothad, as soon as he realized our forces were having the blood sucked out of them, he took some preemptive measures to protect as many of us as he could.”

“Hm?” Damrabe’s head swiveled in the direction Vinzgar was pointing in, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary. There were just some clouds passing by…?

“Wait, what is this?” Damrabe muttered as he flew over to a large cloud a few hundred yards away. This cloud stuck out from the rest because it was frozen in place and didn’t move like the surrounding clouds. Curious, he reached out with a hand and touched it. It was soft and fluffy, but icy cold. Grabbing a handful of it, Damrabe tore off a piece of the cloud. It looked just like cotton candy. As Damrabe examined it in fascination, the piece quickly melted in his hand from his high internal body heat, and water pooled up in his hand.

“This is something I never get tired of seeing,” Vinzgar commented as he joined Damrabe. “You’ve probably never seen this in the few decades you’ve been with us, but Reothad is far more exceptionally talented with his Glacier magic than you realize.”

“You don’t mean to say...?” Damrabe started as Vinzgar raised one hand. A small black ball of fire appeared in Vinzgar’s hand. He chucked the fireball at the cloud, which immediately went up in black flames.

“Oh, I do,” Vinzgar answered as the black flames quickly died down. “Reothad froze an entire cloud to hide himself and the vast majority of my forces.” The last of the black flames died away, revealing an enormous chuck of ice suspended in the air. Through the cold mist falling off the ice, Damrabe could see hundreds of figures trapped in the ice, like bugs trapped in amber.

Without warning, large cracks raced through the surface of the floating iceberg. Damrabe and Vinzgar backed away a little bit as the ice shattered with a big burst of icy white mist. Large chunks of ice fell down before disappearing with a flash of light. The sound of coughing reached Damrabe and Vinzgar’s ears as the forms of hundreds of dragons wearing the Killwing royal family armor became visible in the dispersing mist. Many of them shivered as they furiously rubbed their shoulders.

“Is everyone alright?” a voice rang out from somewhere near the center of the mist. An arm swung through the mist, which instantly dispersed and disappeared, revealing Reothad.

“Other than being insanely cold? Yeah, I’m fine!” one soldier answered through his chattering teeth.

“Why’d you have to freeze us solid?!” another snapped, blowing fire into his hands to warm them. “I’m sure you could’ve protected us in a different manner!”

“You breathing fire over there? Share some of that with me; I think I’ve got frostbite!” a third soldier cried. The second soldier was instantly mobbed by dozens of dragons.

“That’s enough!” Vinzgar abruptly roared, surprising everyone. All of the soldiers’ heads meekly turned in his direction. “Be more thankful to Reothad for wasting the time and magic to protect your blubbering hides from that blood-sucker! And stop whining about the cold!”

All the soldiers broke apart and saluted at Vinzgar, but most of them were unable to forcibly stop their shivering. Vinzgar let out a long sigh at the sight. “I need to do a better job training them against the cold,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hey, don’t feel too bad about it,” Damrabe whispered, leaning over to talk into Vinzgar’s ear. “Most dragons hate the cold; only a handful of dragon species, like Reothad’s, are capable of living in cold environments.”

“Still, though, this is embarrassing,” Vinzgar whispered back. He and Damrabe continued to watch the scene until Reothad approached them.

“I take it that the fact someone melted my protective ice spell means that Río has been dealt with accordingly?” he questioned?

Damrabe nodded his head and pointed at the floating husk behind him while Vinzgar quickly filled Reothad in on what happened. Reothad stared over at the husk while digesting the information before shaking his head in disappointment.

“It seems that Vinkex isn’t capable of accomplishing anything noteworthy without a decent amount of deceit,” he commented. “Not only did he set up a fake Rogue King to gain control of his followers, but he’s obviously done something to bend Balara to his will, as well.”

“Huh?” Vinzgar and Damrabe’s heads tilted to the side in unison. They gave Reothad an odd look. “What did you just say?”

“Oh, that’s right. I never did mention anything about that, did I?” Reothad chuckled. “With everything that was going on, it must’ve slipped my mind to bring that up.” Reothad’s cheerfulness faded away and he gave the two dragons a serious look. “I actually knew Balara quite well before all of this started, before he was thrown into prison. The way he acts now is completely different than how he behaved before.”

“And you didn’t bother to mention this before now?!” Vinzgar snapped, a low growl rising from his throat.

“Hey, like I said, there was a lot going on!” Reothad responded, raising his hands defensively before him. “I’ve known him for about twenty years now. He belongs to a branch family of the Stormfang royal family, and he wasn’t a member of the Dragon Council, so he wasn’t very well known. Balara preferred to keep to himself and his archeological studies.”

“Balara was an archeologist?” Damrabe questioned, exchanging a glance with Vinzgar.

Reothad nodded. “That’s right. He would occasionally approach me to ask questions about artifacts from old Glacier Dragon territories and whatnot, so I got to know him pretty well because of that. He was easy-going and carefree back then, but about five years ago, he told me he found a clue to the whereabouts of some ancient artifact he’d been searching for most of his life. He went off in search of it, but it was two months before he came home. Balara was almost immediately arrested upon his return after trying to lead a prison break at Skyhaven Prison and thrown into that very prison. I haven’t spoken to him since, but the way he acts and fights during the Prisoners’ Games is completely different than before.”

Damn it all. Vertex panted heavily as blood dripped down the side of his face from a wound above his left eye. Balara hovered in the air before him, glaring at him with his arms folded in front of his chest. Vertex could barely hear Poseidon’s ragged breathing behind him as the old dragon struggled to stay aloft.

Everything had been going according to the plan. Using his Planetary magic, Vertex separated Río and Balara from Vinkex by dropping them through tunnels he created in the ground of Río’s floating castle. Everyone was split up and assigned to dealing with the individuals they would have the advantage against. Unfortunately, the battle against Balara has not fared well for Vertex and Poseidon.

“The two of you want to be in charge of taking down Balara?” Theravor questioned in surprise when the two of them approached the Dragon King earlier that day in the midst of a break from the war council.

Vertex bowed deeply. “Yes, sir. Both of us have some unfinished business that we need to settle with him. I need to repay him for meddling with my very life over the last two years.”

“And I need to get him back into prison,” Poseidon added, mirroring Vertex’s bow as he stood next to him. “I’m a prison warden, and Balara’s an escaped prisoner. It’s my responsibility.”

Theravor’s talons drummed on the armrest of his throne. “I understand how you two feel about this,” he answered at length, “but I’m afraid I must turn down your request.”

“What?” Surprised, Vertex looked up and stared at Theravor. “Why not?”

Theravor sighed as he riffled through the piles of parchment sprawled out before him. Each sheet, filled to the brim with Dragonscript, contained information that included possible battle plans, formations, enemy information, and many other things. “To be blunt about it, there’s a very low chance of the two of you beating Balara. Your magical attributes aren’t suited to dealing with his.”

“Is that the only reason you have to deny our request?!” Vertex growled, slamming his hands down on the table. The piles of parchment shifted around from the impact. “Those elders you were listening to don’t have any idea what they’re--!”

“Respect your elders, and never disregard any advice they give you,” Theravor interrupted with a low growl, silencing Vertex. Theravor’s golden eyes gave Vertex a piercing stare as his tail twitched dangerously. “That’s one of the very first rules we’re taught as hatchlings. Don’t even try to tell me to ignore what every dragon has been raised up on.”

Vertex said nothing as he lowered his gaze to the table, curling his hands into tight fists. “Fine, I won’t tell you to disregard our elders,” he finally said after several moments. “Instead, I’ll ask you something else.” Vertex lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Theravor. “You’re going to be engaging with Vinkex alone, aren’t you?”

Theravor blinked in surprise at Vertex’s assumption. “Why, yes, I am. I’d praise you for your good judgement, but why are you asking?”

“You’re doing it to rescue Draycos, right?” When Theravor didn’t respond, Vertex pressed on. “I want to do this for Draycos, too.” Both Theravor and Poseidon gave Vertex a puzzled look as Vertex didn’t pause. “From what I’ve been told, it seems that Draycos and I were decently close. However, I have no recollection of any interactions with him due to Vinkex and Balara’s interference. Even though I have no memories of him, I still view Draycos as a reliable asset, if not a friend. So I want to take down the bastard responsible for my memory loss as a way to make up for not remembering him. You, recklessly taking on the enemy leader alone, is no more reckless than myself wanting to take down Balara for the same reason.”

Theravor continued to stare at Vertex for a few moments after the latter finished speaking. Finally, Theravor leaned back in his throne and closed his eyes with a sigh. “You never change, do you, Vertex?” he mumbled. “You’ve always wanted to make up for something, even if it had nothing to do with you or wasn’t your fault.” He opened his eyes and focused on Vertex before snorting. “So be it. If you feel so strongly about it, do as you please; I won’t stop you. Poseidon, you’re more than welcomed to assist Vertex in his endeavor.”

Poseidon silently dipped his head at the king while Vertex bowed deeply. “Thank you, Theravor.”

“Don’t thank me,” Theravor snorted, throwing a few sheets of parchment to the side. “There’s no need to thank me for allowing you to get your asses kicked.”