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Prologue
“Sacrifice”
.......... On a hill overlooking a wide valley, a lone woman stood as still as if carved from marble, gazing with rigid determination at a tableau unfolding below her. All throughout the valley a battle raged—had been raging for days in fact—and hundreds of thousands of soldiers on both sides fought and died in a futile attempt to break the stalemate. Despite the obvious desperation of all of the soldiers involved, the fighting showed no signs of abating. Amidst the wreckage of war machines and splintered chariots, the battlefield was littered with the bodies of the dead and dying. Each and every victim of the fighting lay where he or she had fallen, for there had been no truce, no abatement, no pause to give the living time to help the wounded or mourn the dead. The soldiers had already fought past the point of exhaustion, and now only pure hatred and rage kept them moving at all.
...........A strong wind arose, blowing the woman’s waist-length brown hair off her shoulders and swirling it wildly in front of her for a few moments, before the gust died away as suddenly as it had risen. Her hair’s movement revealed that the woman was not truly alone, for on her shoulder sat a tiny dragon, the color of a flawless, priceless emerald. The dragon’s tail draped protectively around the woman’s neck, though the comforting gesture seemed lost upon the stunningly beautiful woman.
Behind the woman, a shadow seemed to grow from the ground, rising up and coalescing into a doorway of nothingness. A second figure appeared on the hilltop, stepping out of the nothingness behind and to the right of the first woman. The shadows folded about the second woman like a cloak, and slowly dissipated, leaving the impression of leathery wings made of the deepest night, and for a second the hilltop became cold, as if a winter’s breeze had swept over the hill. The chill wind didn’t disturb so much as a blade of grass, however, and the cold soon faded. The shadows faded as well, and the second woman walked forward, an ebony black dragon draped across her shoulders in much the same way the green dragon graced its companion’s shoulder. The black of the dragon made a striking contrast for the woman, as her skin was a pale alabaster so intense that it seemed to glow. After taking a single step, the black dragon and her human stood unmoving, waiting for a signal that their presence was welcome on the lonely hilltop.
..........The emerald green dragon did move then, turning its’ head to look at the newcomers, and nodded in welcome to the pair before returning its gaze to the battle. The white-haired woman stepped forward, and joined the woman in observing the battle.
..........After a brief silence, the newcomer spoke.
..........“I have been observing for a while. The battle is turning against Zarryiosiad, Astranaithes. It won’t be long now.” The auburn-haired woman nodded in agreement, though she didn’t take her gaze from the battle. Instead, she raised a graceful hand and pointed at a spot on the battlefield.
..........“There. Prophecy is moving rapidly, Severeielle, uncontrollably in fact. But that is where our fates will be decided.” Severeielle turned and looked at the spot Astranaithes had pointed toward—a seemingly random fight in a swirling melee made up of hundreds of thousands of warriors. Here and there a banner fell, to be trampled underfoot by uncaring soldiers struggling to gain some kind of an advantage, any advantage. At first Severeielle couldn’t see the importance of that one spot, but a small clearing opened up in the battle lines, a brief respite in which a single figure stood out from the rest. Severeielle gasped in shock, for she knew that figure well. Severius, her beloved brother, stood like a white-haired flame, holding an immense, ornate spear, his black armor drenched in blood. The dragon around his shoulders hissed in defiance at the lines of opposing soldiers, and then the respite ended and the battle rejoined.
..........“Why is he here, Astranaithes? We agreed to have no part in this! He shouldn’t be here!” The auburn-haired woman turned and looked at her companion. For a split second as Astranaithes met her gaze, Severeielle glimpsed a sorrow so vast that it threatened to swallow her whole. But the sorrow was covered instantly, replaced by a stern, almost arrogant look that bespoke a wisdom that Severeielle had yet to match.
..........“He is here because I wanted him to be here. Without him all is lost. With him, the world has a chance. Either way, it matters not for him. He is doomed, and I told him as much long ago. And even knowing this, Severius embraced his destiny and came here as prophecy demanded.”
..........“Prophecy didn’t demand that he come here, Astranaithes—you did. If anything happens to him it is on your head. Know this: should my brother fall in this battle you will have made an enemy of me, Queen of Fate. You will learn why I am called the Queen of Shadows.”
..........“I am sorry that we will be enemies, Severeielle, but that too was preordained. If it brings you comfort, know that your brother will not fall in this battle. His fate is much, much worse than to merely die. And while it breaks my heart that a good man must suffer so, if he doesn’t the world ends today in fire and ash.” Astranaithes met Severeielle’s gaze unflinchingly, and in the end it was Severeielle that turned away. Astranaithes turned back to the battle, and after a time, Severeielle joined her.
..........Several hours passed, and the silence between the two women deepened. As the light of the afternoon faded into the dimmer light of early evening, without warning Astranaithes gasped, and the sound of it startled Severeielle. The stalemate had finally ended: the line of battle that Severius had attacked had collapsed, and triumphant soldiers rapidly filled the gap and began rolling up the battle line. Zarryiosiad’s soldiers were being slaughtered, and they knew it.
..........But almost as suddenly as the battle line had faltered, Zarryiosiad had reacted. An arrowhead of carefully hoarded heavy cavalry charged into the breech, led by two glorious figures in shimmering armor, one male and one female. At first Severeielle thought Zarryiosiad herself was joining the battle, but a closer look dispelled that belief. Severeielle’s eyes widened in shock when she recognized Furionchires, the Queen of Battles, riding on her human’s shoulder. The Dragon Witch was a legend among even her own kind, always drawn to war, and always victorious in battle. The deep red of the dragon looked like a firebolt as she charged into the melee, and it seemed nothing could stand against her. The soldiers that had broken through the lines reeled back in shock and confusion, and threatened to break completely at the charge, when a single figure stepped forward and bellowed a challenge at her. Severeielle knew without a doubt who had issued that challenge, and she hissed in pain as her fingernails dug deep furrows into the flesh of her arms.
..........Furionchires turned to see who had challenged her, and once she recognized him she eagerly turned her blood mare towards him. The horse needed no prompting, as it reacted to its mistress’ command and charged towards the lone figure at full gallop. The Queen of Battles held her slender sword straight in front of her like a lance, but Severius stood his ground, refusing to back up so much as an inch. As the warhorse bore down upon him, Severeielle covered her mouth to stifle a scream of anguish...
..........And just like that the horse fell screaming, transfixed upon Severius’ spear like a wild boar. The Queen of Battles fell forward off of her horse, tucking into a graceful ball that robbed the impact of its power, and like a sinuous snake, she stood again to face her challenger. Severius pulled the spear from the still-screaming horse and readied himself for her charge. Both of their dragons were hissing at each other, as prepared to do battle as their humans were.
..........Severius struck first, thrusting his spear forward in a blindingly fast move that Furionchires narrowly avoided by pirouetting to the side like a dancer. Halfway through the pirouette her sword shot out in a move meant to decapitate him, but he ducked the strike easily, and turned his spear’s momentum into an arc meant to disembowel her. She saw the strike coming and had to divert her swing into a block that just barely deflected his cunning stroke. They backed away from each other slowly, each looking for an opening to exploit, or some weakness in their defense to take advantage of. Severius held his spear like a quarterstaff, the tips turning small circles as he kept his wrists loose.
..........After a few moments, again they struck as one, again with similar results. Neither of them could find an opening in the other’s defenses. Severeielle could tell that her brother was totally focused on this fight: he knew exactly who he faced, and he knew of her reputation for victory. But that focus seemed to have left Furionchires; every so often she glanced at the battle around her. The glorious charge of the heavy cavalry had been stopped cold by their opponent’s own reserves, and if she didn’t end her fight soon it would be too late to affect the battle even if she killed Severius.
..........With desperate energy, Furionchires and her human charged the Lord of Time, swinging her sword in a flurry of lightning blows meant to overwhelm his defenses. The ferocity of her attack was incredible, and Severius knew better that to try and stand up to it. He retreated slowly from her attack giving ground reluctantly but never letting her find an opening in his defenses. And then disaster struck: while retreating from her overwhelming attack he stepped on the legs of a dead soldier and fell on his back, defense forgotten in his surprise. With a cry of victory, Furionchires swung her sword in a killing blow that Severius had no chance of stopping.
..........Before the sword landed however, the black dragon on Severius’ shoulders raised his head, and a jet of white-hot flame struck her full in the face. The surprise was total, and she flinched from the unexpected attack, her deadly blow stopping short as she reflexively covered her face with her forearms. The flames had no effect on Furionchires, for one of the protections afforded a host by their dragons was a virtual immunity to dragonfire, but the break in her concentration was all the opportunity Severius needed: like lightning, he brought his spear around and in front of him, just in time to meet her interrupted charge. The heavy blade parted her armor like parchment before stabbing her through the heart and emerging from her back. The Queen of Battles had a split second to realize what had happened, before the sword fell from her nerveless fingers, her body fell limp and slid down the shaft of the spear until her knees hit the ground. The dragon on her shoulders cried once out in agony as she felt her companion’s death, and then the dragon disappeared in a flash of light and flame. Severeielle knew that the while the Queen of Battle’s human host was dead, Furionchires herself had survived. The dragon was sorely wounded and she would take a long time to recover, but the loss of a host wasn’t fatal...just agonizingly painful. It would take decades for Furionchires to recover, and even then she would remember only fragments of the time before her death. Severeielle felt a great sorrow welling up for the pain she knew the Queen of Battles would go through, but with the sorrow came a pride she had never felt before: her brother had triumphed against a legend.
.........The soldiers of Zarryiosiad’s army knew it as well: the loss of morale the death of their champion brought them shook the army to its core. Then Furionchires’ companion in the charge moved quickly to rally his troops, to somehow turn hopelessness into hope. Severeielle couldn’t make out his words, but his efforts seemed to have some effect on the soldiers. Slowly, the soldiers began reforming their line, and the rout was averted. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a Dragon Lord; Severeielle didn’t recognize him. Before she could ask, Astranaithes spoke.
..........“That is Talindril, Zarryiosiad’s consort. He is Faeborne, and more than he seems. Watch.”
..........As she spoke, the air around Talindril shimmered. Great golden wings emerged from his back, and he rose above the battlefield with a mighty stroke of his wings. The glow around him intensified, and Zarryiosiad’s soldiers again rallied around their general. Talindril unlimbered a bow from a golden case on his back, and began firing arrows into the opposing army. Everywhere an arrow struck, soldiers began to die. As the relentless tide of warriors began to fall back from the assault, Severeielle again saw her brother. He stood up and pulled the spear from Furionchires’ host, then stepped toward the shining figure slaughtering his soldiers. Talindril saw him then, and reacted by firing a burning arrow at him, faster than the eye could follow. Severius didn’t even slow down. He contemptuously batted aside the arrow with a sweep of his spear, and as Talindril fired a second time, then a third, Severius deflected the arrows again and again, moving ever closer to the spot where Talindril hovered. Talindril intensified his efforts, firing faster and faster until the arrows seemed to be a golden line, with no breaks to mark individual arrows. Time and again Severius turned aside the arrows; with his hands, his armor, or his spear, it didn’t matter. Nothing could turn him aside from his purpose.
..........Talindril’s face changed from concentration and fury, to concern as his arrows time and again failed to reach their mark. Too late he realized his mistake: he had allowed the Lord of Time to get too close. In desperation, he beat his wings to gain altitude, to avoid the attack he knew was coming, but too late; a lifetime too late. Severius barely hesitated—with a mighty throw the spear tore through Talindril’s body and bore him to the ground, pinned in place by the heavy shaft. Severius walked to the body of his downed foe and pulled the spear from his chest, the dragon on his shoulder bellowing victory. A great cheer erupted from the lines of men to either side of Severius, and the rout that Talindril had died attempting to forestall finally began in earnest. Everywhere on the battlefield Zarryiosiad’s soldiers threw down their weapons and tried to flee. They were cut down by the thousands, and each death brought the conclusion of the battle ever closer.
..........Suddenly, the cheers of victory were silenced by a single cry that shook the very ground. Zarryiosiad had felt her lover die, and her grief at his death devastated her. In her rage she struck out with an elemental fury that no one, save the Oracle, had ever witnessed. It was an immutable law that no mage could touch more than three of the five powers: Zarryiosiad broke that law. Pillars of flame erupted from jagged mounds of earth that shot up from the ground with lethal power. Lightning crashed down from the heavens, striking soldiers of both armies and killing men and horses by the score. Boiling water and scalding steam poured through rents in the ground pulling men to a watery death. And all of these powers were amplified by the blood pouring from her hands, from self-inflicted wounds on her face and arms. She had touched the forbidden powers of Blood Magic, and the combination was indescribable.
..........As she drew more and more power from the earth around her, she began to change. The change was subtle at first, but before long she began to swell in size, her features elongating and becoming distinctively reptilian. In a matter of moments, the beautiful white-haired woman was gone, replaced by an immense dragon of the purest platinum, hundreds of feet high. The dragon spread its leathery wings, and a hurricane of wind knocked men and horses to the ground. Just like that the battle was over: men from both sides of the war fled in terror from the monster Zarryiosiad had become. But there was nowhere to run for any of them. The dragon inhaled deeply, and the five powers blended together until a single blast of white-hot dragonfire exploded from the beast’s mouth, instantly incinerating both of the armies on the field of battle.
..........The entire army that was, save one man: one man immune to Dragonfire. Severius charged towards the dragon as fast as he could, with his enchanted spear clutched tightly in his hands. All about him the earth exploded and pillars of flame erupted, water flooded and lightning crashed, but none of that could stop his mad charge. It didn’t take long for Zarryiosiad to notice his charge, and the dragon landed, clearly intending to finish off the last surviving threat on the battlefield. The platinum dragon reared back to strike at Severius, and in that instant Severius struck. A single mighty throw sent the spear unerringly towards its target, and for the third time that day the spear struck true. The weapon struck the dragon squarely in the chest, and the ensorcelled blade parted the metallic scales with ease. It buried itself deeply in the dragon’s chest, and Severeielle knew that Zarryiosiad had just been fatally wounded. The dragon bellowed once with surprise and agony, and then collapsed, falling to the ground with a deafening crash.
..........Slowly, the earth returned to normal as the power radiating off of Zarryiosiad dissipated, and as the life slowly bled from the dragon, it began to transform again, shrinking in size and changing back to the silver-haired woman. Severius approached her, and when she saw him she beckoned to him weakly. Severius knelt down beside the dying woman, and Zarryiosiad raised her hand and touched him lightly on the chest. He took her hand in his, and she turned her head to speak to him. At that moment Severeielle would have given everything she possessed to know what was said between the victor and the vanquished, but whatever passed between them died with her. Gently lowering her hand to her chest, Severius reached up and closed her unseeing eyes, then abruptly stood up and pulled his spear from her unmoving corpse. With one final look at his defeated foe, he turned and walked away. The two women and their dragons watched him slowly disappear into the distance. After a time, Severeielle knew not how long, Astranaithes spoke.
..........“And so prophecy is fulfilled. Talindril was always fated to die here. In her grief, Zarryiosiad touched a power greater than she could control, and in that moment the world lay in the balance. Had your brother not been there to stop her, she would have burned the world to ash in her grief.”
..........Severeielle looked confused, and turned to look at Astranaithes. To her surprise, tears were streaming down Astranaithes’ face.
..........“I don’t understand. My brother yet lives. I thought you said that he would suffer a fate worse than death.” Astranaithes looked at her again, the tears flowing steadily.
..........“He has. With her dying breath, Zarryiosiad cursed your brother to eternal damnation. With the powers she had left, and the power of Blood Magic besides, the consequences are inevitable and unavoidable. Your brother will suffer forever for his heroism this day.”
(c) Tina A. Thomas and Steven C. Plagman.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
End of Prologue
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Click here to read Chapter Three
Click here to read Chapter Four
Click here to read Chapter Five
Click here to read Chapter Six
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