The Knights of Erador (The Echoes Saga: Book 7), page 32
It wasn’t sight, however, that revealed the truth of this creature. Athis’s nostrils inhaled the dragon’s scent and found it to be a familiar one, if a foul one. There was no question that the monster attacking them was, for all its appearance and animation, very dead…
It’s a Reaver! Inara exclaimed.
Athis manoeuvred himself to evade the clamping jaw, which came together with a vicious snap. Now, the entire head was visible, revealing a pair of milky white eyes inside skeletal eye sockets. The skin and muscles were in various states of decay and its rough scales were scattered in patches along its angular body. Ragged wings, torn throughout, flapped furiously to keep it level with Athis.
Inara had no choice but to crawl around Athis’s back and spikes to avoid the gnashing head. Its beastly jaw was top heavy, rising to a point from a ridged and curving chunk of bone. One successful ram would see that horn easily pierce Athis’s scales and thick hide.
We need to get away from this thing! she warned.
I’m trying! Athis roared and clubbed the undead dragon with his front claw.
The Reaver shrieked and clawed all the more at Athis’s body to keep level. Then, showing itself to be agile in the air, the undead dragon brought its wings in and dropped to curl around Athis before spreading its wings to bring it up again. A devastating tail whipped across Athis’s ribcage, the pain passing through to Inara, who almost slid right off his hide.
Scaling back to her usual position, the Dragorn just caught the last glimpse of the Reaver before it vanished back into the mist. Athis continued his flight through the fog, his jaw clamped in a bid to shut out the pain. There was no time to take stock of any injuries, of which there were now many, before the Reaver returned.
This time, the hellish fiend emerged from the haze with a blast of fire shooting from its mouth. So decayed was it that the fire could be seen through jagged holes in its jaw. Inara ignored the monster’s details and focused on the jet of fire tearing through the mist towards her. With an outstretched hand, the Dragorn expelled her magic and erected a shield of hardened air to meet the blaze.
It was blinding. The flames spread across the shield, testing Inara’s strength, and illuminated the cloud that engulfed them. There were more shadows dancing around them, their bat-like wings flapping through the fog. Dealing with one dragon Reaver was unthinkable, but to be surrounded by them was implausible. How could there be any dragon Reavers at all?
The dragon with the pointed snout finally relented its attack and continued along its path into the fog once more. No sooner did it disappear than another Reaver shot out with all four of its claws diving down on them. Inara immediately sensed Athis’s intended reaction and used another spell to keep her pressed against his neck. The red dragon twirled in the air, bringing his tail with him. The spiky ended clubbed the incoming Reaver across the face and sent it sprawling into the clouds.
His orientation corrected, Athis made for the edge of the mist with all haste. More Reavers made themselves known, determined to dog them through the sky and bring them down. Inara hurled spells in every direction with nothing but hope that one of them might strike true.
“Alijah!” she screamed, desperate to see her brother in the chaos.
The horn-snout reappeared, this time right in front of them. Its oppressive wingspan opened up, blocking their way and forcing Athis to dive. A shrieking roar told Inara that it was chasing them down, though how far down actually was remained a mystery. Thankfully, Athis had a better idea.
His red wings unfolded and their direction was altered with enough speed to apply pressure along Inara’s spine. What they discovered on the ground, however, was bone-chilling. Through the wisps of fog they could make out the dark outline of numerous ranks - armour-clad soldiers marching over the plains of Dhenaheim. The sudden appearance of Athis didn’t seem to bother the soldiers, who simply continued their march.
Behind Athis, the horn-snout Reaver was catching up. Their chase saw both dragons zig-zag over the top of the army, disorientating Inara all the more.
We need to get out! she reiterated.
We’re close! Athis replied.
As close as they were, both dragon and rider would not be leaving the mist together. Without warning, another dragon rushed them, launching out of the fog from directly ahead. The Reaver angled up, avoiding any collision, but its powerful tail curled up and pummelled Athis under the jaw. It was a fierce attack with enough strength behind it to knock the red dragon from his flight and hurl him into a backwards somersault.
Inara was flung away with what felt like a broken jaw and a brief moment of unconsciousness. When the blackout abated, the Dragorn was sliding down a snowy slope, her path clear of soldiers. When at last her momentum came to an end, her red cloak was wrapped around her head and her Vi’tari blade was twisted on her belt.
Everything hurt.
Even to groan sent a sharp spike of pain through her jaw. Inara reached out for Athis and found him to be some distance away in a similar state with damaged wings.
The snow crunched around her - the enemy closing in. Inara pulled back her cloak and rolled onto her hands and knees. More pain attempted to make itself known but the Dragorn gritted her teeth and focused what attention she could - there were soldiers everywhere. Clad in dark armour and black cloaks, the enemy approached from all sides.
A grunt of pain escaped her lips as she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her cloak fell back into place behind her and she drew her enchanted scimitar. There had to be thousands of them, all moving in on her perfectly in time with each other. They had to be Reavers all, but such a thought was hard to comprehend at this terrible moment.
A portion of the mist retreated, as if reined in by some supernatural master.
Death approached…
The horn-snout Reaver shrieked upon its appearance, its wings outstretched as it came to land. The soldiers moved aside, welcoming the undead dragon with seemingly choreographed movements. The hulking Reaver stalked towards Inara with its head dipping low and a flicker of flame sparking in its mouth.
She had reached the end then. A plethora of spells were at her disposal, but the strength to wield any of them sufficiently to withstand a dragon’s breath escaped her.
But those flames never came. Instead, the nightmarish dragon closed its mouth and the soldiers came to a halt. It was only then, in the calm that followed, that Inara noticed the figure astride the dragon’s back. Attired in the same dark fashion as the soldiers, this figure dropped down to the trodden snow with a black cloak flowing behind it and a tall crown of spikes. Before it passed the dragon’s head, a devilish blade was pulled from a scabbard, its length ridged with sharp points of steel.
There were but moments before this crowned knight was upon her. Inara’s fingers drifted over her belt in search of the pouch that contained her elixirs. Her hand, instead, paused over the pouch that housed the diviner, given to her by Gideon Thorn. Perhaps she should have contacted him before now, but her hubris had won out, damning her…
The Dragorn shook her head, ridding herself of such concerns. All that mattered right now was the foe walking towards her. By the shape of the glass vial between her fingers, Inara knew she was holding Allidai’s Voronum, an elixir designed to put some fight back into her bones.
The vibrant yellow liquid was vile to the tongue and even worse on the muscles, but she had no time to contemplate. The liquid went down in one gulp and she embraced the pain and burning sensation that was ignited inside of her. Inara gasped, her injuries felt all the more now that she was fully alert.
The Vi’tari blade connected with her will and responded to the incoming strike from the crowned knight. Inara fell into the flow and worked with the scimitar, gripping it in both hands to put her strength behind the parry. She came face to armoured face with the dark knight and found nothing but malice emanating from the Reaver.
The combatants pushed each other away by the edge of their blades, only to come back together with a clash of swords again and again. The crowned knight was swift, his movements agile and his attacks incredibly precise. Inara had to work to hit anything but air while simultaneously blocking the sword that always came for her head. Allidai’s Voronum kept her limbs moving and her scimitar swinging, but the elixir could only give her so much - she needed to end this.
To what end?
It was a disheartening question, but a valid one. If she bested this foe there were thousands to take its place and an unknown number of undead dragons hiding in the mist.
Since the elixir was unable to cross their bond, Athis could but whisper in her mind, though even his words felt faded, leaving the Dragorn with nothing but an impression of his feelings.
Make them hurt.
Inara embraced Athis’s feelings as her own and lunged at the crowned knight with everything she had. On the attack, her Vi’tari blade danced through the air, pushing the dark figure back. For just a second, Inara actually saw herself ridding the world of the supernatural fiend. But, unlike any other kind of foe, the crowned knight had no fear of walking into her blade.
The scimitar ran him through with ease, piercing his back and cloak. An armoured glove wrapped around Inara’s wrist and squeezed until her grip relinquished the Vi’tari blade. The pommel of the Reaver’s hilt hammered her in the face, cutting a line through her eyebrow. Inara cried out and staggered backward, the pain blinding. Her cry was cut short when the air was kicked from her lungs by a boot in her chest. The next thing she knew, her feet were flying through the air and the snow rose up to greet her with the hard and unforgiving ground.
Allidai’s Voronum was fading fast, a reminder that she should have studied alchemy just as much as her swordplay. There was nothing she could do now but cough and splutter as the crowned knight stalked towards her, a Vi’tari blade lodged in its chest.
With one hand, the Reaver removed the scimitar and tossed it aside. Inara tried to crawl backwards through the snow and icy sludge, her eyes fixed on the jagged blade being raised by the crowned knight. She had seconds remaining of her life before that sword came down and sent her to the next world. She thought briefly of her parents and then Vighon, discovering a tremendous amount of regret where the king was concerned.
The jagged blade was lifted above the Reaver’s head in both hands. Inara stopped crawling, her fate sealed.
I love you, she told Athis, her heart aching to see him in all his majesty one last time.
The crowned knight took one last step and made to bring his blade across Inara’s head. But the mortal blow never fell. Instead, the Reaver froze mid-stroke, his blade hanging in the air above her. Without explanation, it sheathed the jagged sword and took a step back before genuflecting with a bowed head.
Looking around, Inara could see that the surrounding Reavers, and even the dragon, had bowed their heads. There was no answer for what she was seeing, but Inara had no intention of staying on the ground. The Dragorn rolled over in a bid to pick her broken self up and froze, just as the crowned knight had done moments earlier.
“Alijah?” The name barely left her lips.
Her brother stood in the clearing, his cloak still in the quiet air. His suit of dragon armour was pristine, displaying no signs of a fight. Gone was his casual arrogance or even his air of confidence. What stood before her now was a man of sorrow.
“Why did you have to come here?” he asked. “I offered you a way out. A new life filled with love. You had but to take it and you would have been free, Vighon too.”
Tears began to well in Inara’s blue eyes. “Alijah?”
“You could have gone anywhere and been happy,” he continued, becoming increasingly frustrated. “All you had to do was take those steps.”
“What’s happening?” Inara staggered to her feet as her gaze roamed over the bowing soldiers. “Why are they…”
“You’re not strong enough to see this through,” Alijah told her. “Only I can do what needs to be done,” he added aggressively, thumping his chest.
“Alijah…” Inara’s heart was breaking as the truth sank in.
“This is what I was born to do,” he said with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders, as if he had no other choice. “I’m going to unite all of Verda. But there has to be pain before there can be peace. I didn’t want you to be here for that.”
“What have you done, Alijah?”
He raised his arms to encompass the army around them. “I have done what no other could, even The Crow. The knights of Erador! They will help me bring order to the chaos.”
“They’re Reavers!” Inara spat.
Alijah remained calm. “The perfect army. When they fall, no one else suffers. There are no grieving wives or mothers. No children absent their father. They all died eons past. I have given them purpose again.”
“You’ve made monsters of them,” Inara accused.
Alijah’s frustration was morphing into exasperation. “Sometimes, the world needs monsters. At least I have control of these ones.”
“You lied to us,” Inara continued, the sting of his betrayal stirring rage within her. “You said you came to help, to form an alliance. But you’re just another invader…”
“I have come to help. And the alliance I’m going to create will bring about a kingdom that even Atilan couldn’t have dreamt of. Imagine it, Inara - humans, elves, and dwarves all living under one banner. Erador, Illian, and Ayda united by a common cause: peace.”
Inara shook her head in despair. “The world is more complicated than that.”
“It doesn’t need to be!” Alijah yelled, his calm demeanour evaporating. “You couldn’t… You… You don’t have the vision!” He began to pace, a process that worked to calm him down. “That’s not your fault,” he said quietly. “You weren’t chosen. This is my burden, not yours.”
“You have lost your mind,” Inara glowered. “How could you do this? Look around you, Alijah. This is wrong. The dark magic you have harnessed to create these fiends is evil.”
“You know nothing of magic!” Alijah snarled. “There is no light or dark. Magic just… is. The problem lies in the wielder. In the wrong hands magic can be used to tip the scales, be that for a good cause or an insidious one.”
Inara felt like throttling sense into him. “You have allowed The Crow to poison your mind.”
The mist beyond Alijah was battered away by Malliath’s enormous wings. His dark bulk settled on the ground, shaking the earth beneath their feet. His purple eyes locked onto Inara with predatory intent.
“You’re supposed to be wise!” Inara barked at the dragon. “You’re the oldest dragon alive!” She gestured to the army of Reavers. “You should know better!”
Malliath created a rumble deep in his throat and bared his fangs. “I wouldn’t talk to him like that,” Alijah advised.
“I see now,” Inara said, her veins igniting. “The Crow had a far simpler task than I thought. He had but to put you together. Malliath’s mind has bent yours to his will. This isn’t you—”
“You know as well as I that there is no him and me… There is only us. Seeing through Malliath’s eyes has opened my mind, given me a picture so big it spans millennia. I have seen history unfold through him in a way you couldn’t fathom. I see now what needs to be done…”
Inara frowned. “And what is that?”
Alijah took a breath and assessed his sister. “I’m going to change everything. But you won’t survive it if you don’t find your humanity. You need to take those steps, Inara, just as I told you. If you don’t, I can’t save you.”
“What are you talking about?”
Alijah flashed the palm of his hand and expelled a staccato of lightning across the snow and into Inara. It was a short burst but powerful enough to knock the Dragorn off her feet with a clipped scream. It was hard to move after that. Her muscles spasmed beneath stinging skin, most of which was now covered in smoking leathers.
Alijah came to stand over her. “I’m going to break the scales,” he finally answered, crouching down. “I offer you this one last chance. Flee Illian, flee the entire continent. There will only be suffering if you stay.”
Inara strained to say something, anything. Her jaw, however, failed to move as she commanded, leaving her mute at her brother’s feet. Seeing him now, she wasn’t sure what she would say to him anyway. There was no doubt that she was many years too late to help him see sense.
“Monsters only beget monsters…”
Those words, The Crow’s words, came back to her then. There was so much more to that statement, but her mind and body were in too much pain to fully comprehend it. All she knew was the person standing over her wasn’t the brother she had loved. It shattered what remained of her broken heart and left her lying helplessly in the snow.
Alijah resumed his stature and positioned his open palm over Inara’s body. “Don’t come back.” There was a blinding flash, an instance of pain, and then nothing at all…
28
The Coming of the Tide
Namdhor, the jewel of the north, was always a sight to behold when returning home. Rising high above the ground, the city was surrounded by the splendour of the Vengoran mountains, white sheets of clean snow, and the sprawling King’s Lake.
Seeing it now, crowded with dwarven refugees, Vighon was taken back more than a decade to when the land was similarly filled with human refugees from the southern regions. The dwarves of Dhenaheim, however, were far more self-reliant. Their camp was colossal in size and well established by the look of the markets in place.
General Garrett observed, “Even in the face of extinction, dwarves will always find time to trade.”
Trading they were, but Vighon didn’t miss those on the fringes, grieving their losses. So many of them appeared wounded, their clothes torn to rags in the desperate escape from their homeland. So many were in need of aid and they had arrived at his gates.
