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Chapter 46: A Storm’s End

Cold and silent the twin moons sat, nestled tight within the winding clouds above. There they cast their judgement of the ivory fields below, casting everything in ivory and violet light. An uneasy calm had overtaken the land, only reinforced by the whistling wind that drew every cloak tight, flickered every fire. This was a night for doubt.

Scores of sapphire guardians huddled close around their campfires, eyes peeled upon the ritual site, none wishing to step across the barrier of coal. Hushed whispers were tossed back and forth, speaking of dozens of theories on what had transpired, why it was taking so long, and why had the orb of dragonkind had been left behind. Most of them didn’t paint a charming picture of their Lumarian guests, instead building an image of treachery, deceit, and more importantly betrayal. Into every face one could see the fear gnawing at their insides, draining the color from their faces. If so, a monster had been unleashed upon this world.

Like a lance piercing the sky, light exploded from the ritual site, blinding, all consuming, it was like the sun itself had swelled into glorious being. Snow melted with a resounding hiss, guardian’s shielded their eyes, the wind sank it’s icy fangs into every face. When it was over, the adventurers they’d gossiped about were laid bare within the ritual site’s boundaries.

“By the gods, you’d think I’d meet someone actually good at teleporting.” Veledar groaned, his limbs tangled in with his gryphon companions. Luckily, the humans hadn’t been caught beneath them. “The search ever continues.”

“Alright, I admit I have a few kinks to work out, but to be fair, I’ve never done so many annoyed people before!” Florimel replied, flopping back into the snow, smiling at the clouds above. “Give me a few more times to get it really down.”

The guardians rose to action, thrusting themselves from their leisure. Weapons instantly snapped to the tangled mass of the adventurers, held with a steel like focus. Blades and barrels gleamed maliciously in the moonlight, reserved breaths leaving the guardian’s lips. Eyes traveled from old faces to the new, just as they’d expected, the lich wasn’t among their company. One of them called for Alonso, their guests had returned, and still hadn’t stilled their bickering.

Veledar eyed the weapons with a wavering growl, making certain for no sudden movements to be made. As he turned his snout he got smacked right in the nose by a blue and teal wing. His muzzled wrinkled, his concerns gone as blood boiled over his scales. “Could you not? We’re being threatened!”

“I’m trying to get away from you! Shrieked Krotos in an aggravated huff, smacking the dragon’s snout yet again for good measure. “You’re trapping me on a bed of coals!”

“Is this necessary guardians?” Asked Arcturus as he tentatively unwound himself from the others, never breaking eye contact with the guardian’s weapons. One wrong move and he’d be filled with lead. “What have we done to warrant such a greeting?”

Alonso emerged from the wall of flesh and steel a prideful smirk upon his face. “Ah, so you Lumarians return to the scene of your betrayal. Did you think we wouldn’t notice the orb of dragonkind left behind? I told the council they were foolish for trusting you, you have my gratitude for rewarding my reservations.”

“Could this not wait till morning? After a restful evening and time to collect our thoughts?” Asked Nivra sternly, “Some of us have had a most busy evening sir knight, the answer you and your council wish can come then. You have my word that, despite how things might appear to one so suspicious of yourself, we did not betray your trust. The dragonorb’s quirk was an unseen complication.”

“You’d like me to believe that wouldn’t you?” The Drenedarian knight scoffed, eyes flicking to each of them in turn. “Fall for your sweet little lie, have me escort you back into the good graces of the rest of the lords and ladies? So, you say the orb was unseen, but what of the lich, your accomplice?” He snapped to Florimel with eyes like swords. “Is it this old man?”

“Am I the lich?” Florimel stroked his beard, brow furrowed in deep thought. “Honestly some days I think I am.”

“Are you or are you not old man?”

“I have a name you know.” Florimel adjusted his hat, “It’s Florence Bill.”

“Florimel.” Voidwing coughed.

“That’s the one.”

“I’m not one for games.” Alonso pulled from his side an energy crossbow, the metal winking in the moonlight. He pressed the activation rune, filling the air with it’s deadly hum. His guardians readied their weapons, their grip tightened, all he had to do was give the word and it would be done. Silence fell heavily between them as the tension twisted and turned, ended by the red dragon’s threatening growl.

“Give that command and the last thing you will utter will be, oh gods I’m on fire, I’m on fire.”

The knight dismissed him with a wave, “And I’ve seen this used enough to know it can deprive the mighty dragons of their breath. So much as flare your nostrils and find out how swift my reflexes can be-“

“You think they can’t be countered?” The dragon mused, flicking his tail, “You’re more foolish than I thought.”

“Even if it can, will that save the others dragon?” He gestured to the steady forms of his guardians, “I’ve been waiting to execute these lying, despicable untrustworthy ingrates the moment they set foot in my precious city. Go ahead and give me the excuse.”

“Such brazen disregard to laws itself?” Nivra replied with a sharpened tongue, quick to Arcturus side. “You know who I am sir knight. I’ll ensure you’ll have your titled yanked from your-“

He levied the weapon at her chest, stilling her wagging tongue. “You were saying princess? You have no power here. It’s your people that we’re in this predicament.”

“Enough.” Arcturus’ steady tone brought an end to the narrowed looks and threatening growls. “We sit upon a powder keg, ready to explode. We need not these insults so casually tossed. Listen, Alonso, you fear for your people, I know the word of Nivra may not hold water, but what of me?” He stood at attention, meeting the hardened look of his fellow knight, “We share a kinship despite our separate kingdoms. I implore you, on my word itself, that what we speak was true. Throw us in a jail cell for the night if you wish, but listen to our story, I’m certain we will be vindicated, and what transpired made clear.”

“Arcturus.” Veledar growled, kneading his paws in the snow, giving Arcturus the same look of dismay as Nivra. “You can’t be serious. I’ve already done this little plot development, I’m in no mood for an encore.”

“Listen.” He heaved a sigh, “Surely one night is worth it to stop the bloodshed? They’re just frightened and acting on emotion…No one needs to die this evening…So lets just comply, have a proper talk and work things out.”

Nivra could only deeply sigh at the thought of being so bound. “Arcturus, you expect me to simply surrender to them? Be shoved into a cell and bound like…Like…Some common criminal?”

“It’s a compromise. We get our night; he makes sure we’re compliant. Perhaps there is even a glimmer of respect and thought.”

“Don’t worry princess.” Nudged Krotos, “Voidwing and I are experts with the clink, we’ll be your beds, watch your back…We can even get matching tattoos!”

“Again.” Voidwing stated flatly, ears splayed. “Again, with the jail.”

“Hey now, don’t scare the girl, it’s not like we’ll experience that again. They won’t throw us into a pool of ruffians! I’m sure whatever cells for royals will be quite fancy!”

“You’re just happy they’re going to put you in restraints again.” The black gryphon rolled his eyes, “Not all of us share your taste in kinks.”

Krotos pulled back with a gasp, “I told you that in confidence!”

“Enough!” Alonso shouted, a vein violently pulsating on his forehead. To each of the Lumarians he glared, trying it seemed to ignite the very air. “There will be no more foolishness, no more lies. Arcturus, you try and play to my noble nature, but do so from a place of treachery. There will be no capture, no interrogation. The routine has only led us here, to the escape of a most dangerous monster.” The man’s fist clenched as a cold fire swelled behind his eyes, “I do as we should have done from the beginning. Fire.”

Triggers were pulled, the dragon reared, taking in a mighty breath. The air shattered with thunder as the deadly barrage was loosed, joined by a torrent of an all-consuming torrent of red-orange flames. Mutual destruction was assured, if not for an oddity that occurred. The plume of fire was whisked away in the blink of an eye, the bullets never found their targets. Instead, they were suspended in mid-air, held aloft by an invisible hand.

“Are we done with such foolishness?” Florimel dusted off his robes, approaching with Alonso casual demeanor, any weapon that trained itself upon him was transformed into a floppy, silver noodle, swiftly being hurled away by their owners. The old man was beaming as Alonso’s jaw tightened and he brought his weapon to bare. It evaporated into a swarm of bubbles. “I take it I have your attention?”

“What magic is this?” Alonso stuttered; his thoughts scattered to the winds. There had been no motions, no sounds, no words of power. What appeared honest and innocent, couldn’t help but he painted with a malevolent light. This man was vastly powerful. When Florimel reached out and clasped his shoulder, the knight almost bolted from where he stood. “Who are you?” He asked in but a whisper.

The old mage wrinkled his brow, turning to Voidwing with a gesture. When the gryphon called him by name, Florimel thanked him, gesturing to the bird with his thumb. “Now, mister Alonso, if you’re done being a complete ass, I believe they have quite the story to tell you. It has action, comedy, drama, adventure…It’s quite the tale!” He turned to the others, stroking at his beard, “Though I’m not certain their up for telling it after such a rude welcoming.”

How could he respond to such foolishness? The knight’s convictions wavered as he searched the Lumarians from human to dragon, finding a weariness he’d not seen before. Perhaps there was truth in what they said, that this was all a misunderstanding, that he was being brash and seeing wolves that were not there. With a deep breath he composed himself, dusting off his armored chest. “Very well, we shall listen to your tale. I’ll entertain the idea for now that you had nothing ill prepared, but you will recount everything that transpired, and if there is any deception, I’ll end you where you stand…Understood?”

“With weapons of noodles and bubbles?” Veledar chuckled with a smug grin, “I suppose I could fight back with snowballs and pies if given the time.”

“Veledar.” Arcturus sighed, wheeling around to face the dragon, arms crossed.

The dragon averted his gaze with a snort, “You can stand there till you’re all blue in the face, I shall not be apologizing, so you best get on with it, the man just tried to kill us.” He placed a paw to his chest, holding his head high, “And I don’t so easily forgive.”

“Nor I.” Nivra crossed her arms, blue eyes aflame. “Your superiors will hear of this. If they hold any decency, you will be stripped of title, position revoked. I honestly hope you’re to become nothing more than a coinless vagabond.”

Though Alonso’s jaw tightened under the princess’ words, he still his tongue with but a glance to the elder mage, giving him a questioning look. The knight released a heavy sigh, wiping his brow and motioning for them to proceed with their story.

To his credit, Alonso was a man of his word. The sapphire guardians stood resolute, listening to the adventurer’s tale. They hung off every word, eyes widened as they took turns sharing what horrors and wonders they’d encountered. Every narrow call put them on edge, each victory brought cheers and clouds of excitement. One forgot what had previous transpired on an angry knight’s order. It was when they got to the part with the arrival of Storm did the guardians finally grow still, their looks darken.

“Storm was with you?” Alonso asked sheepishly, looking to each of them in turn. He couldn’t help but notice a certain lack of the blue dragon’s presence. It was when he saw the grim looks spread across their faces did Alonso’s heart sink, his eyes darkened. It was to Arcturus he searched, “What befell him? And don’t mince words. We’re all strong enough to hear it.”

*

With every scraping of his claws upon the stone, Storm could hear his voice, whispering seductive words for him to retreat. This wasn’t how it had to be, he still had time, there would be another day. He dismissed such things with a laborious breath. The air was growing hotter, more humid, he knew he was growing closer. At the corridor’s end only lay the final door, feeble against the might of a righteous dragon. Willing strength into his great limbs, Storm surged forward, crashing through the door with a mighty roar.

Stone slabs fractured and splintered, scattering across the floor, consumed by the ever thick fog curling across it’s surface. The hall around was vast and ill inviting, the only lights being dim, just enough to provide an ominous atmosphere for the cris-crossing pillars of stone overhead, reminding him of some bizarre insect’s nest. His tail swayed tentatively as he plotted his course, knowing what he sought would dwell near the top. It always at the top.

Unable to flare his wings, the dragon was forced to leap to each pillar, his claws dragging thick lines across the stone. He heaved and panted with herculean effort, climbing with little regard to the tingling sensation of his hide. On the second platform he was acutely aware of the burden slowly growing within him, what should have been easy was taxing at best. His gaze scowled, betting their was a poison on the air to weaken any intruder who found such a place. He growled deep in his throat as he continued to the next ledge, lamenting there was no time to retreat, this was how it was going to be.

Around him a buzzing noise sounded in his ears, a pleasant distraction to the droning voice of the phantom creature, announcing his coming doom. He caught the brief flicker of minutes at it’s end, lighting a fire beneath his tail to carry on. As he neared the top, runes scattered like flowers around the walls, flared with ghostly light. He paid them no mind as he set his sights for the last layer, there would be no distractions. Ahead he smelled thick layers of arcane magic, mixed with the sweet smell of death and decay. Nigel was here.

Panting, his lungs burning, Storm dragged his prodigious form atop the final alcove. His head throbbed, his throat burned, it was as if he’d been galloping for hours. It was all he could do to gather himself with a flick of his tail, set his blurry sight to what lay before him, three slabs of stone, decorated with runes, where three pyramids, glowing a ghostly green softly sat.

It was so simple, so unassuming, it was hard to believe these things were the source of such sorrow and misery. Careful eyes flickered around the bare walls, finding only minimal decorations in the form of a few carvings of a dragon, complete with a portrait of her white scales upon the furthest wall. She stood unassuming, regal, her feathery wings pressed behind her. If Storm was not so preoccupied, he might even recall her as beautiful, though hinting with an aura of coldness.

With the smell of metal and oil now tugging at his nostrils, Storm tentatively approached, mindful for any pressure plates that may be in wait. Fatigue hounded him like a shadow, grabbing tight his limbs and threatening to never release, doom him to yet another failure. He powered through with a shake of his horned head, forcing himself to focus on his breathing. He only needed a few minutes more and it would all be over. That’s when he saw, leaning against the slabs of stone was a bubbling, misshapen form of onyx goo, wheezing and in the shape of Nigel’s upper torso.

The wretched thing’s blackened eyes rolled to him, the skeleton like jaw having not yet reformed. It tried to raise a limb in alarm, but it lacked the substance. The arm collapsed with a slosh into the blackened pool in which it fed.

“So, this is what has become of you.” Storm’s growl held upon the air like a sword as he watched hardened bone form upon the blackened creature’s head. “Nothing but a pile of ooze, clinging so pitifully for life. How long I’ve waited to see such a thing.”

“I can imagine.” Gurgled Nigel, his voice soft and tired. “Why come here? Can you not here the countdown to your demise? Even one such as you won’t escape the coming fire.”

“And neither will you count yourself among those safe.” Storm dismissed the wizard with a heavy snort, focusing instead to the pyramids. Each pulsed like a heart-beat, coating the room in a sickly light. They smelled deeply of magic, almost forcing the dragon to sneeze. There was no doubt, these were what kept Nigel alive. Even as he stared at him, a sense of their wrongness stabbed deep beneath the scales, striking straight to his heart. He was forced to avert his gaze and stumble back, lest his breath be deprived him. “Clever trick.” He snarled, smashing the trio of slabs with his armored paws. The enchantment died, “But futile. Today, you end by my paw.”

Oily head fell back, his jaw distending to unleash a cruel, wretched laugh that stabbed at the dragon’s ribs. “You think you can undo what I’ve wrought Ramakox? A second rate dragon such as yourself? Always counting on the pitiful help of others? Even now you come here, threatening me with nothing. I’m touched you wish to impart your final words to me. If you decide to flee now, I might consider holding off the purge for you to survive.”

The dragon didn’t turn as he took in the pyramids, their light sparkling across the dragon’s eye. He chuckled deep in his throat, his tail almost batting the wizard aside. “You think you’re the only one plotting and scheming. You believe me just sitting by, lazy, not dreaming of finding myself here? I have poured through books, texts, scrolls, devoted myself to this precise moment.” He almost smirked as he rose a paw, willing the magic from the very core of his being. He steadied his breath, focusing on the lapping waves of the sapphire ocean near his home. “Funny, long ago you claimed I wouldn’t do as you ripped a wrymling from my care. Now I bring about your death, just sit back and sputter.”

“You think such a bluster could scare me? You dragons carry your arrogance upon your wings as easily as your scales. Know this Ramakox, that it has brought you into my claws this day, and will end your life in mere moments. When this is over and you die, and I yet live, I shall throw my head back and laugh at such a pitiful effort. Better magicians than you have tried to kill me and have failed.”

“Again you underestimate me.” He uttered softly, moving with the phantom waves, guiding the magic through out his flesh and blood. “The spell you saw Veledar use this evening should have been your clue. Lower castings it can simply shut down spells, but willed into being by a far older dragon? One whose trained to use his Drahkras properly? Uses his very essence to fuel the spell? It very well might have the strength to peel even phylacteries asunder.” He flared his wings with a mighty snarl, feeling rivers of flame ripple through his membranes. The air around him surged with power, crackling with cerulean light.

From his scales came a vibrant wave of light, racing out to grace the walls with it’s splendor. The air between seemed to ripple and break, tearing apart with a threatening hiss. The room shook in fury, stone cracked and splintered beneath the dragon’s paws. As phantom voices whirled around, the surface of the pyramids began to crack, their enchantments pealing away layer by later, but still not enough to destroy them.

Though his eyes welled up in fright, the Lich could only loose a relieved laugh. He was still alive. “Even in your most wonderful display, you ever still fall short! Begone Ramakox! Be cast aside knowing your last attempt was failure!”

Pain began to lap at his scales as he maintained the strenuous spell. With every breath, it felt as though a giant were squeezing tight his torso, and it was increasing. With silver flames in his eyes he dismissed the lich, threatening to light the pyramids ablaze. He would have to try harder still, there was no going back after all. He took a deep breath, his throat raw and aching, and focused on his Drahkras, throwing every bit of him into the spell. He was a well in which to tap, pure magical energy to exploit.

Tendrils of power whipped around the dragon as his teeth clenched, eyes pressed shut. Blood already had begun to seep from numerous scales as his forelimbs wobbled at the great effort. Where there had been fire flickering through his flesh before, now dwelled magma, his every breath was untold amounts of agony. But still he needed more. Screaming, he focused on the love of his family and why he was here, remembering the honest faces that brought him untold joy. Together they whispered to his labored ears, enabled the dragon to break a barrier he wasn’t supposed to. The pathways inside him shriveled up as they unleased their final aid, the dragon should he survive, would never cast magic again.

The room began to quake, dust shuttered down to the floor. Even Nigel’s demeanor was cracked, his eyes wide with terror as the blue dragon wobbled before him, the pyramids crackling like eggs before this storm. The lich hobbled to his half-formed legs, collapsing to the floor with a pitiful screech. “Ramakox! Don’t do this! Turn back now and you’ll get to live! I can give you life, wealth, power! Whatever your heart’s desire! We can even stop this Emperor together! Don’t be a fool!”

But only vengeance and adrenaline remained within the blue dragon’s heart, kept him from collapsing into a exhausted heap. His words came, sharpened as any sword, searing apart the air. “Your words mean nothing to me. How many lives have been where you hobble now? Looking to you and begging against hope that mercy will come? I say in their stead no. Look upon me and see death Nigel. For I am the Swirling Storm, your end!” With a final roar the pyramids shattered into thousands of tiny fragments, scattering like grains of sand to the floor.

Where once a wretched beast of death and despair once stood, now remained only a hollowed shell. Nigel gazed upon the shattered remnants of his phylacteries, the only tether to this existence. His form collapsed to the cold floor, loosing any semblance of it’s rigidity. In but a flick of the dragon’s tail, all that remained was a blackened pool of ink. The bane of so many I existence was dead.

Storm collapsed out of breath, his eyes filled with shimmering stars. The rest of him was completely numb, unable to move even when he tried to will them to action. All he could to was wheeze, staring off towards the foggy expanse around him, listening to the hollow voice counting down his demise. Even faced with mortality, and a pool of crimson forming at his belly, Ramakox could only smile, his great white teeth on display. No regrets haunted his mind as the moments dutifully ticked away, he’d done just as he promised long ago to a little wrymling’s mother. A dear friend. He gently closed his eyes as the time drew swiftly to an end, thinking to the family he’d come to know over his many years.

Jandar of course was running through a field of wallowdale flowers, blossoming as they did during the spring, telling of times of great fortune. The boy’s smile was as wide as the sky, his laugh warming to an old dragon’s heart. He chased after a black wrymling with bright, emerald eyes, the child’s walking stick held tightly between her jaws. She was snickering, her tail flowing behind her like a serpent. Above, within the calm skies flew his daughter Achaaz, warbling her carefree spirit to the world, a pure reminder of the mate he loved. Which, she held a place by Storm’s side, Fremra’s snout pressed tenderly against his own. Her wing held itself over him, joining him in his nap. He quietly whispered his love for her, she nuzzled him gently and returned it. Together they drifted off, counting down the final seconds.

“5…4…3…2-“