The Bringer of War

The dragon crouched, bunching up its long body and lifting its tail. With a groan, it passed another egg from its abdomen, the black ovoid coming through a slit in the scales. It fell a dozen feet and splashed into the golden pool, heavy droplets splashing into the hot air. A glittering spatter was on the side of the basin, growing each time the dragon let loose another embryonic spawn.

Looking out from a narrow crevice, Seamus’s jaw nearly fell to the floor. The dragon was even larger than the last time he had seen it. He felt the metal of the spear, sweaty under his palm, and it felt inadequate indeed.

“What is wrong with that water?” said Lobo, shouldering up next to Seamus, his flowery perfume cloying.

“That’s not water,” said Seamus “it’s gold, a fortune of it, heated by the dragon’s fire.”

“This is hopeless,” said Crown “we cannot even reach the dragon, let alone battle it, with a sea of burning hot metal between us and it.”

They grew silent as the Dragon laid yet another egg. There was a pile beginning to form above the line of liquid, and this egg bounced of of it to splash down by itself several yards away.

“If only we had a boat,” said Seamus.

“Oh, right,” said Stella, trying to peer past the men “it would burn to a cinder ere you got halfway across, let alone you have no way to row it.”

“Your magic,” said Lobo, keeping his voice low “you made a ship fly, can you do the same for Seamus?”

“Well, of course I could,” said Stella hotly. She abruptly stopped her speech and looked stunned. “Of course I can!”

The wizard pointed her hands at Seamus and gathered up what little of the ley line energy the dragon had not claimed for itself. The lines of energy were mere trickles, like a stream during a drought. She persevered and managed to muster up enough for the spell.

“Aero,” she said, making a bird flying motion with her hands. Seamus felt dizzy for a moment, nearly falling backward into the golden sea.

“Careful,” said Crown, steadying the big man.

“It didn’t work,” said Seamus, staring down at Stella “honestly, if you couldn’t do it why did you-”

His words were cut off by a sharp crack as his bald dome smacked into the rocky ceiling.

“You were saying?” said Stella snidely, staring up at him.

“How do I come down?” said Seamus, beginning to panic.

“Just think about walking where you want to go,” said Stella “at least, that’s how I do it.”

Seamus lowered to the stone floor, amazed at the ease with which he could accomplish the feat.

“Well,” he said “looks like I’m off, then.”

He looked at Roikza, cowering on a jutting bit of stone. The little dragon trembled with fear. He reached out his hand and scratched her under the wing, which did little to calm her.

“Be a good girl, love,” he said “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“The dragon is almost too large for this cavern,” said Crown “use that to your advantage, and try not to hold still too long.”

“Right,” said Seamus, beginning to step off the edge over the golden sea.

“Wait,” said Lobo, grabbing him by the shoulder “you may be going to your death, Seamus Dragonsbane, and that I cannot allow-”

“Lobo,” said Seamus with a sigh “you cannot come with-”

The minstrel mashed their lips together in a sudden, fierce embrace. Their chests were pressed tight together, tight enough that Seamus could feel every bump and protrusion. When Lobo broke the contact, smiling dreamily at him, the big man stared stunned at her.

“Disgusting,” said Stella.

“You,” said Seamus “you are a-”

“Shh,” said Lobo, putting his finger before his mouth “don’t spoil it by speaking. Just go and slay the dragon-beloved!”

Turning from his friends, the warmth and moistness of Lobo’s lips still upon his own, Seamus stepped into the air. He began to glide towards the dragon, his reflection in the golden pool a distorted twin. Both of them began to pick up speed, adopting a supine position with the spear clutched tightly in their hands.

The dragon did not notice his nearly silent approach. A vicious contraction rolled through its bulk and another egg was deposited into the pool. Seamus dripped sweat as he sailed over the searing metal, blinking it out of his eye. He was closing the gap between them. Fifty feet. Forty. Thirty...

When he was within twenty feet, the dragon’s one yellow eye twitched. It snapped its snarling, toothy maw shut with a loud pop and began sniffing audibly. The serpentine neck undulated and its head faced directly at Seamus. It’s remaining eye narrowed in an almost human expression of seething anger.

“Remember me, love?” he said, willing himself to go fast, much faster than any bird was meant to fly. The golden pool became a blur below him, flashing by until its bright color was replaced by dull stone. He angled his flight for the beast’s heart, but it reared up on its haunches and spread its wings in a dominance display. Seamus found himself heading right for one of the massive, leathery wings.

With a shout he tore through the thin membrane of flesh, the spear leading. The dragon howled in rage and pain, and the big man found he had a new problem. The back of the vast chamber was rapidly approaching, and he was moving too fast to stop. He twisted cat like in mid air, putting his feet towards the stone wall. His booted feet slammed into the unforgiving rock, sending a jolt through his legs and into his spine. He managed to hang onto the spear, now steaming with dragon’s blood, but he lost his concentration and dropped to the ancient stone dais.

The dragon loomed before him, having spun its bulk around in the wide chamber. It folded its wings down, the bleeding one not quite able to articulate fully. He was in a bad spot, now; The dragon was inhaling, bright sparks and flashes of light visible down its cavernous throat. It blocked his escape with its body, and he had little choice but to will himself back into the air. He charged at the dragon once more, vectoring straight at its head. Smoke began to pour from the beast’s nostrils, its mouth opening fully. At the last possible moment he flung his body to the side, twisting like a drill bit as the dragon unleashed its fury. Seamus sailed past its head without being licked by flames, but the intense heat still scalded his calves and thighs.

He flew over the dragon, its body a winding green road beneath him. Seamus thrust the spear downward and the scales parted before its ensorceled tip like a knife through pudding. He tore a long gash twice the length of a horse near the point where its neck met its massively muscled shoulders. Seamus poured on the speed, covering half the chamber in a few seconds. He spun around, spear pointing back at the dragon as it flailed about wildly. Its tail dipped into the golden pool and flung a wave of molten metal at the dragon slayer, which he narrowly avoided by climbing straight into the air.

“He’s winning!” said Lobo excitedly, unable to suppress some childish whooping.

“He’s barely scratched it,” said Crown, eyes intense as he watched the battle “he could wound it a dozen more times and not slow it down.”

“Then I’d better back him up,” said Stella, bracing herself against the wall. Roikza had gotten to her feet and was hissing wildly at the melee between man and beast. Crown looked past the aggressive feathered serpent to arch an eyebrow at the wizard.

“I thought you said the dragon was draining all the ley line energy,” he said.

“It was,” said Stella “whatever else he is doing, Seamus is distracting it! Now, be quiet, cretin, and watch the greatest wizard alive work!”

“She’s also the most modest,” said Lobo with a wink.

Stella began to gather the energy she would need while Seamus charged in again at the beast. It had turned its focus back to him, its one eye boring into his own. The big man swooped in, mouth pealed back in a cry of rage as he drove the spear before him. The dragon reared back, its clawed foot at the center of its wing coming down in a surprisingly swift arc. Seamus was batted from the air like an insect. The wind exploded out of him, the spear twisting out of his grasp to sink below the golden pond below. The big man’s momentum carried him to the raised stone dais, which he crashed into at high speed. He rolled head over heels once, twice, finally coming to a stop mere inches from the edge of the deadly pool.

“No...” said Lobo in a whisper.

The dragon’s mouth darted forward, opening eagerly to devour its old enemy.

** *

The crowd gasped at the sight of their king plummeting towards the earth. Bruno was taken aback, transfixed as everyone else. Drakken’s robes flowed behind him like a streamer, the look of fear on his face almost comical. When he was within a dozen feet of becoming a red smear on the cobblestone, Drakken suddenly slowed his descent. Those watching gaped in amazement as his body righted itself in midair. He landed gently on his feet with the nimbleness of a butterfly.

Drakken began laughing, throwing his head back as he was overcome with apparent mirth. Bruno’s eyes narrowed, and his sword came free of its sheath in a flash. He began to stalk towards the king, his jaw set hard.

“What witchery is this?” said the knight when he was within speaking distance.

“Perhaps I asked the Allfather for a miracle,” said Drakken, still chuckling. He wiped a tear from his wizened eye before scoffing at Bruno’s naked blade. “So, you will strike down an unarmed man? Do I not have the right to defend myself?”

“If you wish trial by combat,” said Bruno, standing straighter and lowering his sword “then you shall have it!”

The knight looked behind him at the mob, raising his voice so that he might be heard.

“The king needs a sword,” he said “any blade will suffice, we are past the point of standing on ceremony.”

“Here,” said Thaddeus, drawing his blade and tossing it through the air towards Bruno. The Templar caught it easily in his free fist, then sent it spinning towards Drakken. The king’s hand flashed out and snatched it easily from the air. Bruno grinned at the prodigal display.

“You are graceful, your majesty,” he said “for an old man.”

“Let’s not bring age into this, brown skinned worm,” said Drakken “I have naught said anything of your youth and inexperience.”

“I’ll make this quick,” said Bruno, advancing towards the smaller man.

“Oh, will you?” said Drakken. With a snarl, he charged forward, attacking with great skill and ferocity. Bruno was hard pressed to simply keep the deadly tip of Thaddeus’s sword at bay, let alone mount his own offensive. The blows that he deflected were so powerful, his forearms ached and his fingers began to grow numb. Drakken managed to slip his blade past the knight’s guard, and only Bruno’s armor saved him from death. Even so, the sword and armor entangled like forest vines, the tip piercing under his breastplate to stab several inches between his ribs.

Drakken withdrew the blade, eliciting a terrible grinding sound and a scream from Bruno. The king howled with delight as the knight collapsed to one knee.

“Finished already?” he said, striding towards the downed man. He raised his borrowed sword high overhead, planting his feet for a killing blow. “Really, Bruno, did you come all this way just to disappoint me?”

“Not at all,” said Bruno, suddenly rising to his feet and thrusting his blade upward. The tip took Drakken in the chest, should have run his unarmored body through. Instead, Drakken gasped as the air whooshed out of his lungs. He staggered back a few steps, one hand clasped over his chest while the other kept his blade dancing enough to prevent Bruno from pressing his momentary advantage. Red light spilled from between the king’s fingers, rather than red blood. Bruno’s eyes widened as he recognized the glow of Heartfire.

“What’s wrong, knight?” said Drakken with a sneer. His words came in a strained rush as he tried to force air back into his lungs.

“You...” said Bruno “you are no Templar...you had no right to the Heartfire!”

“Heartfire?” said Drakken, seeming to have fully recovered. “No, boy, this is Soulfire. Far older and more primal magic than your pathetic Templar flesh scribblings.”

Drakken reached down with one hand and seized the torn garment. With a quick jerk he tore his jerkin free of his torso and tossed it on the ground. Underneath his skin was scrawled with curving, looping lines that glowed faintly with power. Bruno was impressed in spite of himself at the man’s physical condition. Muscles rippled beneath his tattooed flesh, which was far tighter and smoother than a man of his age should have been able to boast of.

“Now, then,” said Drakken, taking his sword in two hands once more “to the death!”

** *

Seamus flung his body to the side, rolling over the edge of the dais. He made a mad scramble for the lip and managed to keep one hand, his crippled hand, upon the stone. His feet dipped into the golden pool, causing him to cry out as his feet were seared even through his thick boots. Remembering that he himself was enchanted he willed himself upwards just as the dragon’s maw snapped shut on the spot he had hung helplessly in a split second before.

He rose past the dragon’s body, its scales glinting in the firelight. Kicking out with his feet, managed to hit it in its ruined eye socket when it reared up to engulf him in its maw. The dragon flinched, but the wound was superficial and it recovered quickly. Its open mouth loomed before him, and this time the big man could not get fully out of the way. His leg was caught between its sword like teeth just below the knee. He screamed as he felt his bones crack into splinters under the tremendous pressure, and no matter how he flailed about and willed himself to fly free, he was held fast.

“Stella!” said Lobo “you’d best do whatever it is you’re doing now!”

“Stand aside,” said the wizard, her eyes full of agony as she sought to contain the energies roiling within her tiny form. She held her hands before her in a diamond shape, looking through the opening between them at the dragon. Focusing her vision on its scaly form, it became her entire world. Nothing outside the circumference of her hands existed at that moment. Pouring the energy through the hole in her hands, she screamed the word of power that would shape it as it traveled in a torrent over the golden lake.

“Oblitteron!” she hollered, releasing the spell. A beam of light so intense it was painfully blinding to behold shot from her hands, lancing into the dragon’s neck and punching a hole right through it to pierce deeply into the stone walls of the cavern. The wizard swung her hands to the side, and the beam followed. The dragon’s head was severed from its body, both it and Seamus tumbling down towards the scalding golden pool.

“No!” screamed Lobo as Roikza took off from her shoulder like a bolt of lightning.

** *

The crowd parted way like wheat before a scythe as the two duelists repeatedly clashed. Bruno was constantly giving ground before his stronger, faster opponent. The knight leaped over an overturned turnip cart landed heavily on the other side to give himself a moment to breathe, but Drakken kicked out with his foot and sent it flying out of his way.

“You can’t win, dark one,” said Drakken through clenched teeth “you are but a knight.”

The king came on fiercely, the wound in Bruno’s side shooting with pain each time he was forced to parry. With concern he noted the growing notches on his blade. Even if he blocked every last one of Drakken’s strikes, his sword would soon give out.

“While I,” said Drakken, pursuing Bruno when he broke into a brief run “am a king!

Bruno ran around a stout wooden pole bearing the king’s pennant. Drakken thrust to the left of it, then to the right as the knight used it as cover. At last Drakken, snarling in rage, took his blade in both hands and wielded it like an ax. The pole was severed in twain amid a shower of splinters. Bruno threw himself out of the way of the falling timber and nearly lost his head to another mighty swing of Drakken’s blade.

“Stand and fight, coward!” shouted the king as Bruno again fled down the avenue. The knight leaped atop a chest height wall and pivoted around to face Drakken as he came on. The king swung hard for Bruno’s legs, but the knight was able to leap over the whirling blade. Drakken spun in a complete circle and ended up with his blade pointing up at Bruno’s face.

“Come,” said Bruno, motioning with his own blade “come!”

“Behold the power of Soulfire!” shouted Drakken. Using the same magics that saved him from falling to his death, Drakken willed himself into the air. He planned to fly behind the knight, skewer him through the back.

Bruno had been expecting such a tact, and timed his next swing perfectly. Drakken’s shout of valor became a scream of agony as the knight’s blade bit deeply into his back. Despite the magic runes which prevented his flesh from being cut, the king’s legs went numb and he fell heavily to the ground in some nobleman’s lawn.

Bruno turned about, gasping for breath. Sweat poured into his eyes, spurring him to remove his stifling metal helm. He looked down on Drakken and sneered, spitting in the earth next to him. The watching crowd grew silent, expectant of the death blow.

“Any last words?” said Bruno grimly.

“Just one,” said Drakken, extending his hand. The Soulfire runes glowed with light. “Perpes!”

Bruno began to swing his sword towards Drakken’s head, but his movements seemed slow, as if he were trying to fight underwater. His vision began to blur, to distort and grow murky. Those watching saw him engulfed inside an amber bubble, freezing him solid like a statue. Drakken dropped his arm to the dirt and grinned through his pain.

“Trapped,” said the king “trapped like a fly in amber for all eternity. A fitting trophy, for a king.”

The mob surged forward, egged on by Thaddeus. They were armed with stones, bottles, chair legs...any piece of rubble that could be plied to deadly effect, and he lay paralyzed upon the ground. Drakken did not appear frightened, in fact an eager grin spread on his face.

“Fools,” he said, willing the Soulfire to surge once more. Flames as red as the afternoon sun burst from his fingers, washing over the throng and drawing a symphony of screams. The rabble quickly dispersed, fleeing from his sorcerous might. “Don’t run! Stay, and be engulfed by the fire of a man who embraces destiny!”

Drakken’s laughter could be heard by the survivors to their dying days.

** *

Lobo tried to cover his eyes, but the minstrel’s fingers only flanked them. He was unable to pull his gaze away as Seamus plummeted towards the pool of searing hot gold. Stella, her energy spent, fell over backwards to land hard on the stone. Crown gaped, at a rare loss for words.

Roikza flashed over the golden pool and seized the big man by his rustling sleeve. Crown shook his head sadly as her rapidly beating wings did nothing to slow the man’s descent. Down he went, splashing into the golden pool. Instinct made the dragon release its grip when it neared the hot metal. It circled about the spot Seamus had vanished below, frantically growling and carrying on.

“No,” said Lobo, dropping to his knees “Seamus, my love...”

“I don’t believe it,” said Crown, swooning on his feet, because the big man suddenly burst forth from his golden grave. His one eye looked at himself in amazement as the liquid metal blew away from him as if in a strong wind, forming a circular sanctuary he could stand in.

“How is this possible?” said Lobo. “Has grief made me mad?”

“Only if I have lost my mind as well,” said Crown “I wonder if it is the enchantment upon his armor that keeps him safe?”

Seamus, scarcely able to believe he was alive limped forward and was amazed to see the circle of safety move with him. Growing bolder, he made for the edge of the pool, apparently no longer able to fly. He climbed up onto the stone dais with difficulty, though Roikza assisted with her teeth clamped upon his eye patch. The big man looked at the dragon corpse and laughed, feeling a great weight lift from his chest.

“Let’s rouse the wizard woman,” said Crown “that she might assist us in retrieving our dragon slayer. I think we had best be on our way, and quickly.”

“Have you no faith in Sir Bruno?” said Lobo with a frown.

“Yes,” said Crown “but I have more faith in humanity. Even if the knight triumphs, there will be great discord. Chaos will consume those spared by dragon’s fire, and it may find its way down here as well.”

“Too bad I didn’t bring a wineglass,” said Lobo.

“A wineglass?” said Crown.

“So I might bring some of the gold home with me,” said the minstrel.

Crown chuckled at the jest, then bent low to gently shake Stella awake.

Epilogue

Hector stood in the makeshift camp, hands upon his hips as he listened to Lord Mannix drone on. It was all just words to him, meaningless platitudes that did nothing to bring his dearly missed master back to his side.

“The king has many men still loyal to him,” said Mannix, raising his voice to be heard over the raging bonfire behind him “we face an uphill struggle. But we shall not be found wanting!”

A ragged cheer went up, started by an enthusiastic Thaddeus.

“We shall muster our own army, and free Bruno from ensorcelment and my daughter from prison!” said Mannix when it grew calm once more. “The dragon lies dead, but laid many eggs. We must strike before they hatch and mature, sunder their shells and spill their yolks upon the earth! This world belongs to men, and we shall take it back!”

Mannix looked over to Hector, no longer wearing his simple squire’s garb. He was now clothed in rich fabrics dye black, with silver highlights and a rearing lion as his coat of arms. The design was identical to the one Bruno had used for many years. A curving sword hung at his side, a gift from the lord. Mannix strode over to him and spoke in his ear.

“The people need to hear from their future king,” said Mannix.

“I don’t know what to say,” said Hector “I don’t know if I can say anything at all! I feel hollow, empty inside.”

“It is the duty of a king,” said Mannix “to carry on with a smile though his heart breaks. Speak, boy. It does not have to be poetic.”

“Fine,” said Hector. He strode to the center of the mob, glancing about to catch their eyes as he had seen Mannix do. “Fighters of the resistance, I am not gifted with wit, so I shall keep this simple. Drakken will pay for his crimes, and we will save Sir Bruno. We will march beside faerie for the first time in recorded history, and if Drakken sends armies of dragons, then I guess we shall have to be an army of dragon slayers! Now join me, as we hail the one true hero, Bruno Cromwell! Three cheers for the black knight!”

“Hail! Hail! Hail!”

** *

Later, after the fire had burned to mere embers, Hector stood upon a ridge staring at Fort Drakken in the distance. The fires had burned out or been extinguished, and yet a long trail of black smoke still rose into the sky. Somewhere unseen, Bruno’s body was trapped within its amber prison. The former squire’s hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Hold on, sir Bruno,” he whispered “we’re coming.”

“Yes, we are,” said a voice behind him.

Hector whipped around, sword half out of his scabbard, when he beheld Aven of Still Hollow. Her eyes were red, her face swollen from a recent bout of weeping, but she stood with jaw set and shoulders thrown back.

“Aven,” he said “I...I’m sorry.”

“Do not be,” said Aven “we shall free him.”

“I was speaking boldly before,” said Hector, his freckled face falling “but truly, we lack the manpower to oust Drakken.”

“Have faith,” said Aven, grinning fiercely but without mirth “Bruno will walk the earth once more, I am certain of it. Either in our time...”

She put her hands down upon her belly and rubbed them gently across it.

“...or in his children’s time.”

“Children?” said Hector, swallowing hard. “As in, more than one?”

“Yes,” said Aven, and her maternal glow faded in comparison to the embers of fury burning within her emerald eyes.

Epilogue II

They were able to save most of his foot, which brought Seamus some comfort.

He was lying on his back on a comfortable cot in a very large tent. The big man sported with himself by thinking that he could fit the king’s grand coach, and all of its white horses, within the canvas confines. He flexed the big toe, all that was left, on is wounded foot beneath the thin covers and watched the shadows dance across the outside of the tent. He was not sure why, but Fennick came to his mind unbidden. A smile crossed his scarred features.

“You can rest easy now, brother,” he said.

A shuffling sound outside his tent woke Roikza, who bunched herself into a ball and hissed. Seamus figured it was likely some soldier or another come to check on him, maybe even that Hector fellow who was supposed to be the rightful king. He liked the lad, saw what was good about Fennick in him with none of the hubris or selfishness.

A smile broke over his face as Lobo entered the tent. The minstrel reached up and began to unlace his tunic.

“I’ve come to make you feel better,” said the musician shyly as the tunic dropped to the floor. Feminine breasts were freed to bounce gently as Lobo walked across the tent.

“Isn’t that the physicker’s job?” said Seamus, swallowing hard as his eye ran up and down her sinuous body.

“True,” said Lobo, sliding atop him “but I think there’s one area of your anatomy that you would rather have me handle...”

Their bodies arched in unison, and the soft cries that went into the night had nothing to do with pain or fear.