Gatekeepers Book 3: Redemption

A few moments after Balara and his crew left the prison, something shifted around on the floor. It was the head of the unconscious Gaoth. The head was lifted from the ground a bit, and something slipped out from underneath it. It was a human male wearing wooden clogs and a multi-color kimono with his left arm hanging inside his kimono. His black hair was tied up into a long ponytail while a blue strand of it fell past his narrow blue eyes. Sighing, he pulled a piece of grass out of his kimono and stuck it in his mouth before glancing over at Gaoth. Gaoth’s eye was wide open and focused on the human.

“I take it that ya understand what happened, right?” the human asked Gaoth.

Gaoth blinked in surprise. Growling, he slowly sat up, sending golf-ball size fragments of stone flying out from between his scales when he shook his head. He gave the human a hard look.

“I’d imagine you softened Balara’s blow just now so that he didn’t kill me,” Gaoth guessed. The human nodded at this assessment. “What I don’t understand is why another prisoner would go out of the way to protect me during a prison break.”

“Come on, is it that hard to understand?” the human groaned, scratching the back of his head. “I may be a prisoner here, but that doesn’t make me a bad person. If I see someone in trouble, then I’ll help them as I damn please.”

Gaoth laughed upon hearing this. “Well, I guess so. Anyways, I appreciate the save, Clyad. You really saved me there; if you hadn’t snuck underneath me when Balara was bickering with that rogue dragon, there’s no way I’d be up and about already.”

Clyad pushed the loose strand of hair behind his ear. “No problem,” he responded, shrugging. He looked out around their surroundings. “I definitely didn’t feel like letting that bastard of a dragon do whatever he feels like. He didn’t just take out the guards here; he killed most of the prisoners, too.”

What Clyad said was true. Although most of the prison guards had simply been rendered unconscious, there was quite a bit of blood spilt on the ground from the prisoners’ corpses littering the ground. When the rogue dragons showed up and freed Balara, Balara went around and killed any prisoner that didn’t submit to him while the rouges dealt with the guards. Most of the dragon prisoners and a handful of elves and other creatures left the prison with Balara and the other. Clyad had escaped Balara’s screening by using a fallen guardsman’s weapon to break his magic restraining anklet and hiding under the body of an unconscious guard, concealing his magic.

Just then, the sound of someone groaning reached Gaoth’s ears. Surprised, he swiveled his head around, trying to find the source.

“We aren’t the only ones awake around here, it seems,” he commented. He pointed at a pile of prison guards. “I can hear some groaning coming from somewhere over there. Mind getting up and finding out what it is? I’m still feeling groggy from that last hit.”

Clyad nodded and quickly strode over in the direction the noises were coming from. Another, louder groan rang out, and he pinpointed the location of the source. A large, blue-skin humanoid orc with large lower canine teeth was trying to pull himself out from underneath the unconscious body of a guard he was trapped under. His large muscles strained to pull himself free.

“Heya, the name’s Brock, right?” Clyad asked, squatting down next to the orc. “You’re the one who fought Draycos in the first round of the last Prisoners’ Games. Whacha doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?!” Brock roared. Clyad dodged the spittle flying from the orc’s mouth. “I’m stuck under this big lug’s body! Help me out already!”

“Well, since ya asked so nicely...,” Clyad muttered. A deep blue aura flared up around his body momentarily before condensing itself just above his skin as he used Mana Focus. Getting a foot under the guard’s body, Clyad lifted his leg, prying the guard’s large frame off Brock’s body. Brock quickly scuttered out before Clyad let the guard fall back to the ground. Brock stood on his hands and knees, panting hard while Clyad left him and began to examine the unconscious guards.

“From the looks of it, yer guards will be just fine,” Clyad commented to Gaoth. He walked over to a prisoner’s corpse and tore off the deceased’s shirt. Tearing it into long strips, he approached the nearest guard and began to apply bandages to the guard’s wounds.

Clyad’s ears picked up on a flapping noise that was gradually getting louder. Turning around to face the open mouth of the prison cavern, he saw that about three or four dragons were flying through the air, quickly drawing close to the prison. He recognized the one in the middle as Damrabe, the dragon that treated his injuries after his fight with Draycos. The others included Poseidon, Reothad, and an almost black dragon with red underbelly scales and wing skin that Clyad didn’t know but recognized from the group that had been sitting in the top box at the coliseum.

The four dragons landed on the edge of the cavern, folding their wings up as they took a look around. Poseidon spotted Gaoth sitting on the ground and immediately rushed over to him.

“Gaoth, are you alright?!” he exclaimed. “What happened to you?!”

Gaoth put a talon over one of his nostrils and blew a lot of blood out of his other nostril as he snorted. “I’m fine, other than some decent injuries and my shattered pride.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I allowed such a massive prison break to occur in my presence. It’s disgraceful.”

“Well, as long as you’re alive, that’s good enough for me,” Poseidon sighed. The aged golden dragon glanced over at Damrabe, who was checking on the condition of various guards. “How are my men doing, Damrabe?”

Damrabe lifted the eyelid of one guard and peered at the eye before dipping the eyelid with a snort. “You’re guards look like they’ll recover just fine; most of them were simply knocked unconscious, with a few minor injuries here and there. However,” he added, looking around at the bodies adorn with the standard prisoner shackles, “it looks like most of the prisoners here are already dead. I can’t do anything for them.”

Reothad went around to the guards Damrabe already checked and froze them solid to isolate their conditions. Vinzgar still stood where he landed as he gazed around the cavern. He shook his head remorsefully, a bitter expression sitting on his face. “I’m no softy, but what happened here was simply brutal,” he growled. “Why did Balara and his crew have to massacre so many prisoners?”

“It was more of a screening process to see who’d join them,” Gaoth coughed. “While the rogues kept myself and the other guards busy, Balara and a handful of others went through the prisoners. They killed anyone who didn’t submit to Balara to set an example to the others.” His eyes fell upon Clyad and Brock. “Except for these two, there aren’t any other prisoners here.”

All eyes focused on Clyad and Brock. Clyad was resting in a cross-legged position on the ground, chewing on the end of his grass stalk, while Brock was still trying to get some air back into his lungs after being half-crushed by the unconscious guard.

“Mind telling me why that one doesn’t have any shackles on?” Vinzgar growled, glaring at Clyad’s wrists.

“Come on, Vinzgar, be a little compassionate for the guy,” Gaoth groaned. “He snuck underneath me and cushioned a blow to the head from Balara. If it wasn’t for his interference, I’d probably be dead now. The orc, however, just got lucky and was missed during the screening.”

“So this one helped you?” Poseidon eyed Clyad warily. “Are you sure he didn’t have another motive?”

Clyad sighed. “While you all waste your time debating on whether or not I was actually trying to help someone about to be killed, let me remind you that I’m not the main problem here. Shouldn’t y’all be doing something about the escapees?”

“Watch it, human,” Vinzgar growled. “To answer you, yes, we’re aware of the main problem. Unfortunately, we don’t have anywhere near enough information at the time to act. We don’t even know where they’re going.”

“...I might be able to help with that.”

Everyone’s heads swiveled in the direction the voice came from. Brock stood up on his feet, finally catching his breath.

“What do you mean?” Reothad questioned in a low voice, staring intently at the orc.

“While I was stuck underneath the guard, I was in a decent position to eavesdrop on the rogues,” Brock responded, shrugging. “During all the commotion, I heard one of them mention a rally going on at the Rogue King’s castle.”

“The Rogue King?” Poseidon was surprised to hear this. “So was he in on this prison raid, too? That would mean he’s working with Balara and Vinkex, as well.”

“I honestly don’t know about that,” Vinzgar muttered, rubbing his chin with one hand. “I’ve met the Rogue King a few times, and he doesn’t come across as the kind of dragon who’d willingly work under someone else. Hence the reason why he refuses to listen to Theravor.”

“Either way, I’m surprised you’d give up the information you got so easily,” Clyad commented, looking at Brock. “Knowing you, I thought you would try to bargain with the dragons to get out of prison.”

Brock shrugged again. “What’s the point? I know a lost cause when I see it.”

Far away from Skyhaven Prison, flying through the night sky, Balara and Río were fast approaching their destination, closely followed by their companions. Among the clouds surrounding them, a massive, dark thundercloud that towered high above the rest floated directly in front of them. Lightning periodically sparked throughout the cloud, and thunder filled the air.

Without hesitating, the thunder of dragons flew into the thundercloud. Skillfully dodging the bursts of lightning surrounding them, they steadily made their way closer to the heart of the cloud as heavy rain mixed with hail pelted their scales. After a few minutes, Balara flew through a particularly thick cloud and burst out into the open air. There were no clouds in this area free of the lightning and rain, and the massive storm he just flew through rotated around the area like a thick wall. The only opening was a circle in the cloud high above that allowed weak starlight into the eye of the storm.

Below where Balara hovered was a collection of floating islands, held together by massive black chains stuck into their sides. Old ruins dotted the outer islands. In the dead center of the flying archipelago was a massive island hosting a large black castle. Blue fires burned brightly from the many turrets, lighting up the castle. An insane number of dragons sat around on the castle walls and turrets like a large flock of birds.

Río flew out of the storm wall behind Balara and continued for the castle without stopping. Sighing, Balara followed him. As they drew closer to the castle, Balara was able to hear quite a commotion occurring in the courtyard. Perplexed, he picked up his pace and sped past Río. He landed in the courtyard and took a look around for the source of the noise, which turned out to be loud cheering. It didn’t take him long to find it, and a savage smile grew on his face as he stared at the source. Sitting in a large, makeshift wooden throne that creaked under his weight was a massive black-blue dragon surrounded by a massive throng of other dragons cheering their hearts out. It was someone he’d never seen before, but he instantly knew who it was. It was none other than his ancestor, Vinkex.

“I see that you managed to beat us here,” Balara commented, forcing his way through the crowd as he walked up to Vinkex. “I trust that everything went according to the plan?”

Vinkex smiled savagely, mirroring his descendant’s expression. “Yes, it all went well,” he responded. He rubbed his stomach with a hand for a moment before belching. “I must say, that was quite an exquisite specimen you discovered. His Magic Purity levels were quite insane.”

“So, does this mean all the side effects of breaking your seal have been nullified?”

Vinkex answered with a single nod of his head. Balara’s smile grew even bigger, and he raised his right fist high into the air as he let out a loud roar. All the other dragons present instantly fell silent at the noise.

“Everyone!” Balara roared. “This is the day we’ve all been waiting for! Tonight, we declare war on the false Dragon King Theravor and his Council! It’s only a short matter of time before the rightful Dragon King, Vinkex, reigns over this world! But tonight, let us celebrate Vinkex’s release from his wrongful imprisonment!”

The gathering of dragons gave a frenzied cheer at Balara’s words and began to lose themselves in their revelry. Río, who’d been hovering above during Balara’s speech, fell to the ground and landed beside Vinkex’s throne.

“Kinda over the top, don’t you think?” he asked Balara.

Balara shrugged. “Morale is an important factor in determining the outcome of a war. Let them be for the night.”

Río said nothing as he turned around and walked to the massive doors that stood behind Vinkex’s throne.

“Where are you going?” Vinkex growled. “Aren’t you going to join in the celebration?”

Río paused for a moment, his hand resting on the doors. “I can’t right now,” he answered at length, turning to look at Vinkex and Balara over his shoulder. “I have something I need to do now. I’m almost at my limit.”

“Ah.” Understanding filled Vinkex’s eyes, and he nodded. “Very well. We don’t want that coming undone and being exposed.”

Río returned the nod, cracked open the door, and slipped inside the castle, quietly closing the door behind him. Leaning back on the door for a moment and sighing, he slowly made his way down the dark entrance hall, not bothering to turn on any lights as he went. He soon reached the far end, where another, more ornate throne than what Vinkex sat on stood. Something sat still in the throne, but Río was unable to make out any details of the draconic silhouette in the room only lit by the weak starlight coming in through the windows.

Smiling, Río walked up the steps and stood directly in front of the throne. “I’m back,” he said to the figure. The figure didn’t respond and didn’t react at all as Río grabbed the right wrist and lifted the arm up into the air. He paused for a moment before slowly sinking his teeth deep into the figure’s arm.