Draconic Testament (35 page)

After hours of travelling, Abaddon ends up collapsing at the Temple stairs. The temple was huge, roof being supported by statues from the outside and inside. Abaddon pushes his way inside the dark, eerie temple, following Sancterus to his likely doom. The temple is decorated with insignias and memorabilia of the known races of the universe. The Ispii, scalenes, Domini etc. There were many, and many of the races that had been recorded here have been found as of today, but the statues were not Abaddon’s main concern. “Overlord Sancterus!?” Abaddon shouts, being answered by the echo of his own voice. “My Looord!?” Nothing was gained from screaming in the temple. There seemed to be nobody else. He could sense magic from somewhere in the dark temple. The doors that he came in from are underneath an altar that looks out upon the rest of the Kingdom, likely where speeches were made. On the inside, it’s like a regular church, although the corridor leads off into darkness and to stairs that lead up to the second floor and the roof. Abaddon reaches out and looks for Sancterus. He lost track of his Aura halfway to the temple, and all he can sense from within is Dhym. He knew Sancterus was still alive somewhere. He had to be. Abaddon began to walk down the dark corridor, becoming enveloped in pitch black. He creates a ball of fire within his hand, to light up his path as he made his way to the stairs... but there was no light being emitted. Whispers echoed all around him. “What?” Abaddon hissed. His furious ball of flame was like a match. He could see his hand, and arm, but he could see nothing else, as if he was inside a black hamster ball. The whispers increased, and after a while, he realised they were forming some sort of message. “What do you want?” Abaddon asked, then, he recognised who the voice belonged it. It belonged to Sancterus. “My lord?” Abaddon whispered back. The whispers were maddening! He wanted them to stop! He wanted to turn, to run, to get away... when... the message became clear. “Hide him. Hide him well. Keep him well away.” The whispers said. Then, they stopped. “My lord!?” Abaddon howled. Silence replied. The echoes of his voice were no longer present in the temple halls. He pursued Sancterus once again. He walked, and walked, and walked, knowing that he’d likely get nowhere... when he came across a light. He ran towards it, eager to be out of this maddening corridor, when he came stopped dead in his tracks around familiar surroundings. He was back where he started, altar above the entrance. He had went in a huge circle. Dhym had likely conjured some strong, illusion magic. Abaddon gritted his teeth, and spun 180, determined to find his Overlord, when he sensed something. Back at the altar. It was life. He turned, noticing two auras appearing from on top of the altar. He walked up the stairs, approaching the auras cautiously, slowing recognising who it was. It was Katrina. She was dead, though, on closer inspection, Abaddon began to see the colour return to her face. Slowly, her eyes began to animate, and slowly opened. “Abba… Abaddon?” Katrina wheezes.
“Katrina...” Abaddon mumbles, in amazement. Emotion swept over his face, a rare sight. He didn’t know how to feel. His lord’s beloved was alive, but there was an infamous cost to this magic. This could only mean Sancterus was dead. “What happened? What happened to Sancterus?” She wheezes, weakly. Confusing memories popped up in her head, little by little.  ”You were both attacked, we were betrayed by Draynar…” Abaddon hisses with disgust. “We took him in, although he was the son of the architect of the DomiCazrian war… So many people wanted his head, and Sancterus took him in because he saw a way for Adda'Gorath’s actions to be repented… as he did for my family.”
”Where am I?” Katrina wheezes. “The baby… is he ok?” Abaddon’s eyes flare at the question. Katrina, the so called Concubine of Metholi, is with child? Sancterus’ child? Abaddon thought that all hope was lost the second Sancterus sold his soul to Dhym, but now it appears he has a son. Abaddon ignores her question and contemplates the news. “If the Elrics within the Monolith find out about the baby, then perhaps the baby can be grown up to be the next overlord.” He thinks to himself. The Monolith was where the spirits of past Overlords would look at a subject to see if they are worthy of their magic and experience, however, it’s common knowledge that if the subject has the Overlord’s blood, more can be learned from the elders. Abaddon would make an acceptable Overlord within the terms of the past Overlords, but they would be angry that their hereditary advantage would be lost. The Elrics have had the longest streak of hereditary succession in Cazria, and that makes their Overlords extremely strong… and a strong Overlord is what Cazria need to beat back the second coming of the DomiCazrian war. Abaddon made his decision. “Katrina… the child is definitely Sancterus’, yes?” He asks her.
”Yes… of course… why?” She asks, bewildered.
”What’s his name?” Abaddon questions her, ignoring her question.
”Z…Zaxxarius” she trembles. She sees what’s coming. Abaddon strokes her face, and apologizes to her. Then he draws his knife.
Abaddon races back towards the hurricane with the bloody newborn, Zaxxarius, in hand, running over the rubble of the destroyed kingdom. When he approaches the hurricane, he rests for a while, readying himself to re-create the madness he went through on the way here. He takes this time to examine the baby, and think about what he’s to do. Draynar is an extremely cunning opponent. Right now, all of Metholi is likely oblivious to Sancterus’ death and Draynar’s betrayal. He’s probably at Trinity right now, plotting how to weaken this kingdom from within, but his first target HAS to be Zolka. Zolka is where the portal to Dominion is, and it has the highest population of Domini. As soon as the Domini sense violence and their necromancy, they’ll come running to join in the bloodshed. The son of Adda’Gorath leading the second DomiCazrian was would bring many supporters. It’s their nature to kill, rape and pillage ever since the Dragons abandoned them to ruin. Abaddon strongly feels that it was a mistake to show mercy on them, not everything can be done through peace. Abaddon examines the baby. He looks a lot like a human… putting a human on the throne of Metholi will cause controversy, much like what led to the Metholian civil war. However, the human was a lot different than other babies he had seen. This one already had a grasp on magic, and a large amount at that. He wonders whether this is a normal thing for Overlord’s newborns, and if it is, he better take advantage of it quick, and sap some energy from him while he’s going back through the hurricane. Abaddon lifted himself to his feet, and departed through the hurricane. Upon reaching the other side, he realized something was wrong. He could sense faint aura’s of magic near the wyverns. As he got through the hurricane, and his vision changed from dirt and sand, he saw exactly what it was. Domini. Domini had tracked me to this location, a small squad of six. However, believe it or not, Domini are close to useless against a single opponent, especially an Overlord’s apprentice. Domini usually fight through Necromancy and Curses, but Abaddon had the upper hand. Abaddon channels his magic around his skin and clothes, making them match the background, going practically invisible in the eyes of the Domini until he was too close. He approaches the closest Domini, who stops and squints his large, oval, black eyes. Abaddon manipulates the air and wind, and shoots it at the Domini. The Domini flies back and knocks another off the bridge, yelling loudly. The Domini shoot fire and ice at Abaddon, who dodges and shields himself from the blow with magic, then he shoots his Arcana towards his hand. Abaddon attacks the Domini, cutting them all down one by one, falling underneath the expertise of Abaddon. He checks the wailing baby to see if he’s okay, and to his surprise, the baby’s Magic Pool was not depleted yet. “You’re going to be a strong overlord, you know that?” Abaddon whispers to the baby, keeping his old usual expressionless face. “What am I going to do with you?” He asks himself, as he mounts his wyvern. The newborn cannot be truly safe here, in Cazria, or any other world that is currently governed by Sanctum, which handles affairs with aliens and was formed after the late Overlord Voltrin intended to take an Ispii as his queen. Sanctum was made up of purebloods, and they make sure that Metholi, which is the kingdom mainly in charge of the Crusade that the Cazrians have embarked on, will always have pureblood leaders. “I have to take you to the council.” Abaddon says. And he rides off into the grasslands of Metholi.
After leaving the forests, grasslands and minor cities of Metholi, he ends up entering the capital of the Metholian Kingdom, Trinity. He rode through the streets past the hover cars and underneath the spacecrafts above. The sights in Trinity were certainly something to see, lights as far as the eye can see and skyscrapers that made shadows that spanned across a quarter of the city. Civilians hailed the nobleman as he passed by on his Wyvern, bowing in respect, and those that recognized him as the apprentice of their Overlord Sancterus cheered. However, he made sure not to have anybody witness the baby he is holding in his arms, as that cannot be reported to anybody without the Council knowing about it first. He passes by large news screens that report that the Town of Cienka has been sacked and it’s possible that the Domini is responsible for the massacre. This is not good, because although the Cazrians are a peace loving race, not all Cazrians will stand up and defend the Domini civilians if a riot is broke out by other alien species. Most of them saw what they’re capable of, and they all know that a Domini civilian can learn faster than anybody to become a necromancer. However, the reports will soon change, whether it be a confirmation of the Domini sacking the peaceful town of Cienka, or a report of the Domini waging war on Zolka. Abaddon faces way from the news, biting his lip and proceeding forward towards the Tower of Xelphan.
Abaddon dismounts his Wyvern, leaving it lying down in an open area outside the Tower. Wyverns were extremely smart, and knew enough not to cause trouble around the city, and citizens had nothing to fear from the creature. Abaddon enters the tower with the baby in hand, getting ready to present the news of Sancterus’ death… when his breath is held in fright as he sees a shocking sight. It’s Glackan, an ally of Draynar’s, sitting outside the elevator within the huge main lobby, awaiting an audience with the Council, or even worse, awaiting Draynar to return. “Damnation.” Abaddon hissed as he hid behind a pillar, as he knew that he couldn’t just walk up to the council and accuse Draynar of killing Sancterus. Draynar was a master manipulator and had wit that was unparalleled within the council, and within Abaddon. It would be his word against Draynar’s, and Draynar wouldn’t be trialled right away, investigation would have to ensue, and because of Draynar’s nobility, being the son of a so called ‘Godslayer’, he would be allowed to stay in a nice resort overseeing lush grasslands. That would be the perfect chance for him to escape, and he’d know about the baby. Plus, there’s no doubt that Draynar would have had some plans for survivors. Who knew what lies he had spun? He could have pinned the blame on Abaddon himself. Abaddon had to think about the continuation of the Elrics before he thought about Draynar. That was his duty. Luckily, an idea came to Abaddon’s head. He could hide the baby. As soon as that idea entered his head, he felt a message glide across his mind. “Hide him. Hide him well. Keep him well away.” Abaddon’s eyes locked onto Zaxxarius’ innocent face. This was who Sancterus was talking about. “Is this your final wish, Overlord?” Abaddon asked, fighting back his emotions. “You want me to... hide your son from Draynar...” Abaddon thought, harder than he ever had in his life. Where would be safe from Draynar? Where could he place the baby that he would be safe, and Draynar would never even think to look for him? Then, he thought of the perfect answer. He knew where he could hide the baby. Not for a short time, but over a long period, in an area where neither Sanctum nor Draynar could touch him. During the Civil War, Voltrin found a planet called ‘Earth’. Earth was teeming with a primal species that was very similar to the Cazrians, shared out body parts and had the same look as them, only their skin was of different pigmentations, and their ears were round instead of pointy. Their compatibility to Magic was far better than any of the other races, apart from the Domini, and merging a Cazrian’s blood with theirs gave them the ability to use it fluently. They were used to win the Civil War, but they scared Voltrin, so he took them back to the portal within his vault, and then closed it. This was right before Sancterus met Katrina on earth, and brought her back through as a concubine. Nobody knows exactly what spooked Voltrin, but he deemed the Portal forbidden to be opened, and when he died, Sancterus denied Sanctum the privilege of watching over the planet. For some reason, Sancterus left the portal present, not bothering to seal it. Portals are opened through blood and ritual of an Overlord, and the baby is still radiating some sort of hereditable Overlord power. Magic comes from the blood. It could work, perhaps. Abaddon sure thought it was worth a try.
Abaddon descends into Voltrin’s vault, passing the royal guard, betraying their trust, taking the baby down below into vault. As he enters the room, Abaddon’s eyes widen at the extremely large, reinforced room filled with flamethrowers and energy powered Gatling guns. This was normally the setup for a Portal, having heavy defences on the Cazrian side, just in case the races on the other side decided to be hostile, and sometimes, they were. However, this setup was extremely odd to Abaddon. “Why would Voltrin feel the need to put the portal underground, in an area reserved for very few people?...” He asks the baby, rhetorically “What if the humans had spacecraft?” Abaddon kneels in front of the portal, examining it. “I can do this, no problem.” He sighs. He places the baby in front of the sphere, and cuts its palm. The baby wails at the pain, but Abaddon ignores it as he squeezes blood out of his palm, and wipes it over the sphere. Abaddon then begins to chant. The guards upstairs will likely not hear his chant, and it’s not often that people come to visit the vault, and there are not many with the authorization to do so. He closes his eyes, and begins to chant the verses from the Draconic Grimoire. The holy book was not long, and it was mainly about the crusades and the rules of which you must follow your life. There were no severe restrictions to acts such as sex and fertility, it was mainly about following your life with peace, not giving in to greed, living your life in honour etc. Abaddon knew that he was to be here for a while, and he closed his eyes. He began reading from the beginning, closing his eyes and imparting his magic and the baby’s magic into the Sphere. His senses begin to dim, and all he could see, hear, and touch, was the sphere and the Dragon verses. He manipulates the magic, making connections across the universe and the plains of magic. It was a lot harder than he thought to open the portal. An hour passes, and the sphere begins to radiate and open up. Abaddon’s senses begin to return and he reaches for the baby… but it was not there. Abaddon panicked, and searched around panting heavily, then, he found out where the baby was gone. He heard a low cackling from behind him. He turned around, to see a familiar face. Draynar, with his apprentice Glackan, who looked somewhat mortified and another Domini that Abaddon does not recognize. Domini had no hair, instead of hair, they had thousands of small, long tentacles that run down the back of their head and reach down towards their shoulders. Their eyes were oval, and they inherited a mixture of colours from their parents. Draynar had his father’s rare, bright purple eyes. This was believed to be a sign that he was born to rule. Domini had sharp, jagged teeth, and long, predator claws. Their skins were usually pale white, silver, or gray, and they had long, thick tails with a deadly poison within them, which they injected through the sting concealed at the end of the tail.