A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) (38 page)

Two explosions followed in quick succession in the distance.
Must be mages on both ships.

On the second level, he heard the shouts of battle and smelled smoke. Before he could mount the final stairs up to the deck, a loud crash sounded from above, ripping away a chunk of the deck. Two elves fell through, one dead from a shattered plank through his heart, the other lolling on the edge of consciousness. Khalem pulled him up against a sack and helped him to a sip from his waterskin.

Another explosion shook the ship, and the elf blinked. Khalem realized it was the captain.

“Hadoner!” The captain spat blood onto the white deck planking. “You…you are free.”

The clear ring of metal on metal sounded from above, as well as the thud of feet landing on the upper deck.

Khalem handed the waterskin to Captain Draevin, stood, and pulled a cutlass from a rack nearby. “I will show you that honor lives in Hadon.”

He dashed up onto the foredeck into the middle of chaos. Hadonese Sunguard fought hand to hand with elves armored in shining steel. Mages on raised platforms shot fire back and forth between the two ships, which were almost close enough to leap from deck to deck without the aid of boarding ropes. The Hadonese cog burned in several places, while the hard lifewood of the elven ship had blackened in only one spot.

Shock and fear welling within him to the point of panic, Khalem searched about, hoping to find Gael. He saw the elf lord close pressed by two of Khalem’s countrymen armed with spears. Gael’s knives ripped through the air, catching both spears at every stab.

Charging the attackers, Khalem knocked one of the Sunguard spears away. “Stop! I command it!”

The man’s grimace of rage shifted to a startled look when he realized he did not face an elf. “Who are you to command me thus?”

His heart thumping, Khalem shouted out in his native version of Common. “I am Prince Khalem Shadar il’Hasin, son of your emperor, and I command you to halt this attack!”

The soldier paused, as did his companion, the expressions on their faces unreadable. Gael stepped closer to Khalem, his knives still on guard.

“But you are dead,” the second soldier answered.

Khalem grinned. “Not anymore.”

The first guard drew back his spear. “Not for long.” He drove the weapon forward. “Faroud!”

Parrying the spear with one swift move, Khalem turned to riposte and drove his cutlass into the man’s skull. The second spearman moved at him, but Gael cut the man down with a swift dodge and stabs to the throat.

The next few minutes remained a blur for Khalem. He cut down two more of his countrymen before the battle ended, barely holding his gorge as he did so. When the fight was over, he ran to the rail and lost what little food he had eaten. The burning Hadonese cog, floating away and belching black smoke, eventually collapsed and sank beneath the waves. Several bodies bobbed alongside among the flotsam. Khalem straightened to avoid seeing their faces.

Gael stood close by, a sympathetic expression on his face. The captain hobbled up from below with the help of one of his mates. He scowled in Khalem’s general direction, but his relief at seeing his ship still intact won over.

Gael turned to the wounded elf. “I don’t think there is a need to keep my friend locked up any longer.” Before the captain could respond, he looked to Khalem. “The one shouted ‘Faroud’. Do you know what that means?”

The exhilaration of battle ended with a dreadful certainty of what Khalem had done. His heart sank as he looked down at the Hadonese soldier he had killed. A great uneasiness swelled up into his chest, and he clasped his hand as it began to shake. “It means my entire family is betrayed. Somehow my foul cousin has come to leadership within the Empire. This is not good. He makes my father look like a pristine monk.” Khalem chewed on his lip. “I have allowed myself to be exiled for far too long.”

Nodding his head, Gael cleaned and sheathed his weapons. “Once again, the same could be said for us both.”

Many doubt me or call me a madman, but I tell you dragons do still exist. – “The Tarmor Bestiary” by Dorias Ravenhawke

G
roovax stretched his wings against the breeze, gaining a little more altitude. Had there been any clouds he would have risen above them, but the sky was as blue as the sea far below etched with tiny ripples, like million faceted sapphire. The sun reflected off his golden scales, and he stretched his wings to take in its warmth.

In the distance, a small hump of darkness rose out of the endless ocean. A craggy promontory of black volcanic stone covered with the deep green of tropical forest resolved itself, and Groovax veered towards it. The sea winds gave him such speed that he soon closed in on the lonely island. He banked and slowed, using a trickle of his power to ease himself into a spiral that slowly descended into the smoking mouth of the ancient volcano.

When his feet grasped rock, he folded his wings back along his arm and over his shoulder, while leaning forward on this thickly padded knuckle. Beyond the sulfurous scent of brimstone, a musky, more familiar aroma rose to his nose. It brought up memories of hunting lessons, and long songs of the history of dragons. Groovax snorted and crawled toward the dark cave looming nearby.

A loud snort and belch of smoke rolled out to meet him.

“So you have returned to me.” Arravox’s thick, basso voice rolled out toward him, still as strong as ever. “After a century, you find your way back to your father.” A head with horns twice the size of Groovax’s rose from behind a lip of the cave, covered in emerald and bronze scales. The great dragon’s green eyes focused. “I had forgotten how much you look like your mother. It has been too long, my son.”

Groovax bowed his head and sinewy neck. “It has, father. The world gets away from us…in more ways than one.”

The elder dragon heaved out of his cave on scarred forearms and battered wings. He drew in a deep breath of his son’s scent, and then leaned forward until they touched foreheads for a brief second before Arravox backed away “I have sensed as much. So the great wraiths have returned, have they? That young fool Leolan’s trap didn’t last for a tenth of the time he promised.”

Groovax shook his mane. “Some of our kindred have joined with the orc host Galdreth has created. They answered the Dragonsoul’s call. Quite a few died, and now most of the rest hide with what little treasure they gathered.” He curled his lip in distaste. “Vordrex led them, but now he cowers in the Dragonscales for all that I can tell.”

A bellowing laugh emerged from deep in Arravox’s throat. “That black bastard has been a fang in my neck since the Wars. He was ever enamored with Galdreth’s promises of treasure.” He laughed again. “After all these years, I would bet his trove still does not glitter nearly so well as mine – earned without betraying our race to dark powers.”

Uncertainty looming in the back of his mind, Groovax watched the elder dragon coil his tail as he sat. “I need your help, father. We must stop Galdreth. The Chaos released has already begun to spin the world out of control.”

Arravox scoffed, and the sound echoed throughout the volcano’s caldera. “What world? All I see is a quiet island and an ocean full of fish.”

“Father, I—”

The old dragon flung out his wings. A few tattered holes lined the leathery membranes. “Come, my son. I have been sleeping for weeks. Let us hunt together. We will see if you remember what I taught you so long ago.”

Dust whirled into the air as Arravox beat his wings. Groovax felt the flow of power as his father lifted into the air. A few strong flaps and he cleared the volcano’s rim, his yellow, chipped teeth showing from behind a grin.

Groovax leaped after him, pounding his wings and drawing at his power in order to keep up.
If I pester him, his mood will go sour. For now I will placate the old beast, and we will see if his mood softens.

Nothing broke the undulating surface of the ocean save the island and a few white caps stirred up by the breeze. Groovax blinked at how far ahead his father already flew. A warm feeling spread through his massive heart.
The Ancient One can still soar.

He rushed forward, thrumming his wings in time with his mighty heart. His power streamed out behind him, aiding his surge. Soon he could almost reach out to nip his father’s long, streaming tail.

Arravox’s great voice carried over the wind. “I often find Bluefin along this underwater ridge. One of the reasons I chose this island as my home. That, and the isolation. Bringing my trove here was quite a task.” He tilted his wing and peeled to one side and Groovax followed. “The volcano is mostly extinct. The hot spot moved some ages ago, for I sense a new island almost touching the surface not far to the south. Perhaps, in another few thousand years when you are ready to retire from this world of yours, it might be ready for you.” His father laughed in the wind. “Perhaps we shall be old neighbors.”

Groovax snorted then turned to the waters below. His sharp gaze picked out large schools, flashing about in the depths. The smaller fish moved toward the surface and the bigger ones followed. One held still for a split second, orienting itself for a charge at the ball of sardines, and Groovax folded his wings. He turned and darted toward the sea, his power giving his dive speed.

The water rushed around him with a splash, but he did not slow. The huge tuna shot forward, and Groovax caught it with his jaws, clenching tight against the wet, slippery fish. He curved his wings and pushed with his power, shooting out of the water. He pounded for air and tossed the tuna high into the sky. A deep breath and another twist of his power and flame seared the outside of the fatty fish, leaving a meaty, smoky scent on the breeze. He clamped down, swallowing the fish in three delicious bites. A few wing beats later and he hovered near his father.

Arravox lifted one eye ridge. “You saved none for me?”

The old dragon flipped backward and hurtled down into the water. Groovax circled above, watching his father through the crystal blue as he flashed out with teeth and claws. He came up with a tuna in his mouth and a shark twice as large in his hind claws. He beat for air and tossed the tuna, consuming it raw and whole.

Groovax sniffed.
I have not smelled his flame in a long time.

Arravox flew by. “Come. We’ll share this toothy monster back at my cave…and talk further of your concerns.”

The flavor of the shark did not please as much as the tuna, but Groovax thought back to the last time he had split a kill with his father. That warm feeling in his heart spread to the tips of his wings. “We have not done this in centuries.”

Arravox ripped a fin free and gobbled it down. “A millennium. It was before the war when last we shared a freshly hunted meal.” He picked a hunk of shark meat from behind a sharp tooth with his pointed claw. Arravox sucked it down. “That was my war, Groovax. And I paid dearly for it. A hundred of your elder brothers and sisters flew out with me to aid the Elves, and none of them returned. Only me.” He hung his head, the shark no longer interesting him. “I came home to your mother alone, and only you and Melvax had remained with her. You were dragonlings then, unable to even make fire yet. But she could never forgive me the loss of all our brood.” He looked up at Groovax. “I would have died to keep her love, sad truth that it is.”

Settling back, Groovax let his father speak, unwilling to interrupt the rare voluntary offering.

“When she died, my heart broke all over again, and I swore I would never mate with another.” The ancient green dragon settled back on his haunches. “Your uncle Vordrex mated enough for both of us.”

Groovax thumped a knuckle on the stone. “He is barely older than I, and a dark heart to match his scales at that.”

The elder dragon snorted and went back to his meal. “He is your problem then, even if he is my youngest brother. He chose Galdreth long ago, and I think he has always regretted it. But his pride is too great – too great to allow him to admit his choice was wrong.” He snapped a piece of shark. “He will hunt this prey to the end.”

Picking at the tender cheeks of the shark, Groovax nodded. “I understand, Father.”

Arravox stopped eating to gaze at his son. “You are almost as strong as I ever was, and twice as smart. You get that from your mother.” He butted his head on Groovax’s shoulder. “Pick your allies well. Stand for what you believe. I am too old to do it. Besides, none of my allies are still alive.”

Groovax sat still, his father’s words echoing in his head. A pensive warning echoed at the edge of Arravox’s advice.
And just who among the living are my allies?