"Welcome to a world where anything can happen. Welcome to the 'imagination.'"
-Archer Centrelli
The Dragon's Son
By Matthew Vazquez
INTRODUCTION
The Old Wars
Long ago in the history of a far away world, a dark Dragon Lord named Armageddon ravaged the lands, destroying many of the dragon races and dragon kin. Together, with five other dragons, Stryker was able to defeat the Dragon Lord and trapped him inside of a dormant volcano, Dragon Mountain. The prison held him for nearly 65 million years before an unknown force released him. The descendants of the original six dragons that defeated him the first time gathered to combat Armageddon. To help in their efforts, they organized a force of knights, known as the Dragon Knights, and made ready to attack the Dragon Lord. Unknown to all of them, Armageddon was not alone. Vertigo, his mate, had been waiting for the opportune time to release the Dragon Lord, and after millions of years of waiting, was not ready to be defeated as easily as Armageddon had once been. Together, the two Dark Dragons massed up a fighting force christened the Black Knights. They also convinced many of the dragons to ally with them, and with the strong numbers, waged war.
The battle against the pair was costly, and seeing how the earth needed its own defense in case they were soon gone, the Guardians solidified the newly forged Dragon Knights. With their help, the knighthood soon became recognized as the new peace keeping force and enforcer throughout the lands. All this while, Armageddon was brewing plans of revenge. He gathered together a force of the most feared thieves, assassins, and the remaining survivors of the Black Knighthood, and readied for a new war.
This second war swept throughout the lands, bringing to the surface every conflict that had ever arisen between species, races, and kingdoms. The wars were violent and brought new forms of combat and wizardry to the battlefields. The great Noble Dragons and their allies were pitted against their evil brothers. Firedragons, Stardragons, Waterdragons, Winddragons, Snowdragons, and Earthdragons waged fierce battles in the skies. In an effort to gain a military edge over the forces of The Dragon Knights, the dark sorcerers conceived a new hybrid warrior. This warrior was formed from dragon eggs stolen from their nests. The end result was a dragon hybrid warrior known as the Draconian. Standing on average seven feet tall with the metallic skin of their unknown families, the Draconians soon became feared. They had the teeth, horns, wings, and a tail like a dragon, yet fought and spoke like a human. The tides of war changed. However, due to the clashing of various types and styles of magic used in the creation of these beasts, several variations, or "styles" of Draconians were formed. Some had the misfortune of turning to stone instantly upon death, silently disarming the victor, while others would explode, capturing all near them in a spectacular ball of fire that would kill all in it. Some would expel poisonous gasses while another would take the form of the one who killed him, often times causing confusion.
The Draconians were a devoted warrior race and soon became feared by both their enemies and allies. They were often sent to do the most dangerous missions, tasks that were labeled impossible by many of the Generals in the Black Knights. Due to their skill and often times fanatical devotion to their allies, the Draconians would always leave a surprise, whether it was success, or in the rare instances of defeat, fighting to the last man and inflicting terrible damage to the other side.
Despite this new weapon, the dark forces once more began to fall back in their attacks. The forces of The Knighthood were winning, and using newer methods of attack and defense to keep the Draconians at bay. In the end, all would go there own separate way. The Draconians became a new race in the world, and learned how to make more of their own kind from the dragon eggs. Their numbers would go on to grow near unchecked.
During this second war a rumor spread, telling of unlikely warriors for the Dragon Knight forces. The rumor spread and became a popular tale long after the war's end. Very few, though, knew that the tale was true.
PART ONE
CHAPTER I
The Draconian horde was restless. Never before had so many massed together for this particular style of attack. Never before had this particular group massed together for an attack. They all belonged to the defensive forces and never had they fought in an offensive, save once, a surprise attack on a small expeditionary force near their base. From far off in the distance, sounds could be heard another attack of the same type in another Snowdragon den, that attack being carried though by an elite warrior group.
Scythe groaned and gripped the scimitar in his talons tighter. His silver scales were shining in the moonlight and the feeling of being so open was near torture. In his mind, the attack was pointless. The way he figured it, they were invading the den, the home, of a Snowdragon couple to help tip the scales in their favor. This was not only considered suicidal by most but also very useless, as the death toll would only be a lot to two. As it was, he stood to lose most of his troop. A horn sounded a low note. It was almost time. He stole a quick glance over at the flaming mountain in the distance. Somewhere over there, we are doing the same thing. All for a wretched victory over the Silvers. He grinned at the thought, hoping he would be alive to see at least one of the Snowdragons, or Silvers for short, die. Another low note sounded, then another. He listened intently as several more joined and waited to add his own, waiting until all other twenty horns sounded together. Once he sounded his own horn, the troop charged into the den.
The first to enter were struck by a wall of flames that killed them instantly. The rest charged through and attacked. The fighting was fierce and close. If ever a commanding Bozak would die, the explosion would take down most of the warriors around him. The death toll was already massive. Stone bodies and bits of acidic blood were littering the den's rock floor, and the shouts and screams of the Draconian troop echoed off the walls, almost drowning out the loud bellows of the massive Snowdragons. One of the two dragons let out a loud shriek as nets covered it and pulled it tight against the rock floor, the other answered, but could not react in time as a similar attack caught it off guard. Both of the mighty beasts were trapped.
Scythe ordered all of the warriors [save those that were holding the dragons down] back into their ranks. He waited until he was certain all of the survivors were in place, anxiously folding his wings first over his shoulders as a cloak, and then neatly behind him as a cape. He finally decided the cape was more his look.
You have done well, for a defensive troop. You have captured two of our mightiest foes. He motioned back at the wounded beasts. Now we vote, execute them now, or take them home. You choose their fates. He held his blade ready, anticipating the answer. It came. In unison, the troops ordered the deaths of the Snowdragons. Scythe grinned. Very well.
He stepped up to the nearest Silver. It was the male. His scimitar was ready to kill without remorse. He waited, though, as something caught his attention. He stared into the green eyes, seizing their full attention with his own amber eyes. The struggling Silver was still ready to fight and Scythe knew it. "What for Silver? Why live to see tomorrow?" He did not wait for an answer and strode over to the Silver's mate. She gazed up at him in an awkward way. It took Scythe a moment to realize it was the way a mother looks at her young. "What do you wish, beast?"
"That you take what is on the stone table. One is for another in our line, and one was meant for you."
Scythe eyed her with intent curiosity. "What do you mean by this?"
"You will know when the time is right. I will say no more."
Scythe stared deeply into the amber eyes of the Silver and saw himself in them. It frightened him. He raised the sword quickly and dealt the Silver a deathblow. A single tear was sliding away from the now lifeless eye of the dragon. From across the den he heard the male dragon let out a loud bellow. Scythe was frozen; he could not bring his eyes from the motionless body of the Silver. Deep within him something was now gone, and it hurt him.
When the troop saw Scythe not moving to slay the second dragon, they began to protest and urge him to end it quick before the silver could escape. When his only movement was to shift his gaze to the male dragon, they took matters into their own hands. The male Silver died silently with his eyes locked on those of the Silver Draconian.
Once the troop had begun the march back home, Scythe took a temporary leave and wandered into the main hall of the dragons' den. The decorations were exquisite and, he noticed, untouched by the blood-crazy Draconians. He ran a clawed hand softly across a painting of what must have been the entire drake family in their human form. The eyes looked out at him from inside the portrait, and followed him, saying something that to him was unheard, yet he knew was there. He turned from it and walked to the stone table. Folded neatly was a gray hooded cloak with two brooches laid upon it. Both were wrought of silver and bore the images of a dragon with wings spread. Both had the same green emerald wings. However, one had amber eyes and the other had sapphire blue eyes. He took all three items and placed on of the brooches, the blue eyed one, in a pouch at his side. Then he adorned himself with the cloak and clasped it with the amber-eyed dragon brooch. He turned away from the table, drawing the hood over his head and expecting to leave, but a glint caught his eye. He walked towards the source to find a looking glass. Curious as to what he looked like with the cloak he paused to examine his image. He started when the image looking back at him was that of the silver he had just killed.
He left the looking glass shattered and left the den. Messengers had informed the troop earlier that the raid on the Flaming Mountain den had not been successful, so he searched a path from his vantagepoint that led to the Flaming Mountain den and began to follow it.
CHAPTER II
They called him the Nightstalker because his scales were blacker than night and his eyes would glow blood red constantly. Well, one of them, the left having been blinded by a blade during a battle long ago. He was the result of a cruel joke against a black dragon. His skill with a blade and leading armies of Draconians against the Knighthood's forces was considered unparalleled. Now, however, he was the new Draconian definition of a disgrace. He had failed to conquer the two Snowdragons he had been sent to slay, and he had turned against his forces in a surprising manner. Only a few of his troops survived the fight against the two Silvers and the Nightstalker.
Nightstalker was astonished to find that the two Silvers welcomed him in, and he even looked to them to choose a new name for himself. Now he was to be known by the Dragon Knights forces as Cyrius Centrelli, and he liked it that way. Most of his first day in the den had been spent resting and listening to different stories about the shared adventures of the dragon couple. However now it was nearing nightfall and his sleeping throughout the day rendered him sleepless for the rest of the evening. Just to help prevent total boredom he began to wander around the den's massive corridors, being careful not to enter the sleeping chambers of the two dragons, as they were now resting peacefully. He wandered about for near three hours and explored many of the different caves and rooms in the den.
Although he himself was excited over the discoveries made in the den, a wave of boredom struck him and gave him the urge to step outside to enjoy the cool evening breeze. Just as he was nearing the final turn that would lead him to the entrance, the sound of clawed feet walking through the entryway made him freeze. He crouched low and waited for whoever was coming. As soon as the intruder had rounded the corner, Cyrius pounced and pinned him to the ground.
"Ack…."
Cyrius found himself looking down into the amber eyes of a Silver Draconian. He reached for the sword at his side. "Who are you, why are you in these halls?"
"Would you please let me up. Besides, I am not so sure I should speak to you right at this moment. Now answer me this, what is your business here?" The Draconian tried to push Cyrius off himself.
Cyrius drew the blade.
A loud voice from behind them both prevented what was about to follow. "Cyrius, replace the blade and let the traveler up. I wish to speak to him." Cyrius let the Silver Draconian up, but kept a wary watch over him. "Now Draconian, speak true, why do you bear the cloak and brooch of my friends up north?"
Scythe stood and bowed slightly. "I see that now I am not original in my thinking." Scythe motioned to Cyrius. "As he has done I now wish to do. I come offering my blade and services to the Dragon Knights."
"Your skills lie in what fields?" The Silver inquired.
"Archery and sword play, and I am a trained assassin." Scythe answered truthfully, though he felt a sharp pain in his gut as he mentioned the last.
"Your last target?" The Silver continued.
"Your friends in the north, sir." Scythe lowered his head. "And I am afraid to report that the attack was a success."
Archer Centrelli, as you will now be called, forget your past. You will train with Cyrius." The Snowdragon spoke no more and left the two Draconians alone.
"Cast away the scimitar, you will not need that here." Cyrius grinned slightly and nodded towards Archer. "Welcome to your new home."
"Thank you kindly, sir. Home indeed, though I am afraid it will only bring to surface a haunting past."
"Part of choosing a new path is refusing to dwell on old memories. Learn to realize that what is done is done. Do not blame yourself for all that has happened, and if you are at fault learn to forgive yourself. After you have done that, training will begin. You are now a Dragon Knight. Welcome."
Cyrius motioned Archer to follow him to the rooming quarters he had been given. "There is more than enough room for the both of us." He explained while pointing out several features that were not in the old Draconian homes [if they could even be called that.] When the tour was over, Cyrius grinned. "It must seem odd to you, and let me tell you it is odd to me. I just learned this the night of the raids last evening. I am new to this as well, so forgive me if I slip up. I recommend you sleep well tonight, though, as it will help you to focus in the morning, and it will also refresh your mind."
"A good night's rest sounds good. Thank you for the offer. I will see you in the morning."
Cyrius nodded and left Archer alone in the room. Archer found a comfortable spot and lay down on his back. Up above him, unnoticed until now, was an opening in the roof of the room. Above him was a vast sky filled with stars. He slept well that night with no troubling dreams.
The next morning greeted Archer warmly and he was soon fully awake and refreshed. A new sensation of freedom filled his thoughts and subconscious mind. He journeyed from the sleeping chambers and met Cyrius, who was already awake and conversing with the two Snowdragons. This was the first time Archer had ever looked at the great creatures and not felt that his life was endangered. He took the opportunity to study them and become familiar with their kind. Graceful yet massive beasts, these two about one hundred and forty feet in length. Coated in a mail of silvery scales that shine bright. Absolutely wonderful! He paused his thoughts. I would have been one if the Draconians had not taken me from my nest ere I saw light of day, but then I would probably be dead by now.
The male Silver was the first to notice his presence. "Welcome, Archer. I trust that you slept well?"
"Yes indeed, milord. I thank you for your hospitality." Archer replied, bowing politely as he spoke.
"Archer, the council has heard both the cases presented by you and Cyrius. You are under my care and my watch. However, if you do threaten any other Dragon Knight in any way you will be my lunch. Your services are to be taken up without any complaints, and when you speak to another you speak the truth, unless ordered other wise or if it means the life of either you or the one spoken to. Understand?"
"Oh really, Syren, is that any way to treat a guest? Hello Archer, I am Flare, and this beast on my right is Syren, though he does like to be referred to as Flame." The female Silver grinned slightly. "Come, eat. You will need it." She cast a sarcastic look to her mate.
The breakfast was good and satisfied Archer's hunger. When everyone was through eating, Cyrius and Flame led the Silver Draconian to a weapons room. Covering the walls were various tools of all shapes, sizes, and types. Maces, though very few, had there own spot in the center of the room with the battleaxes. Several staves, swords, lances, bows and arrows, and even a few thin stilettos covered the rest of the walls. Archer picked out a sturdy staff and a set of two swords that could be joined as one at the handles to form a double bladed sword. Cyrius took with him only two daggers and the sword that he had carried with him the day before. Then the three went into the arena.
The arena was a large room, not empty but full of obstacles of varying difficulty and content. Water traps, walls, ditches and rocks were all over the floor, the walls enclosing the arena were full of handgrips, and a platform was suspended above the floor, ideal for an archer, yet accessible only by climbing the vertical walls or by flight. Also noticeable throughout the room were traps of various sorts that were set up to be triggered through different methods.
"Here you fight and learn to fight better. Archer and Cyrius, you will try to use and hone your skills. Use the arena's resources to trap me. Go, now."
Without another word, the dragon took the offensive. A shaft of flame came at Cyrius, who ducked behind one of the thick, wooden climbing walls of the arena. Archer took advantage of the moment to disappear into a trench. From here, he could see most of the devices and obstacles around him, and he was certain he was out of view. A large net, hooked by releases to chains, was suspended over an area of the arena to his far right. Most of these look gnomish. Archer looked for the trigger. A large, round wooden target to the side of the net must have been it. And I do not have any arrows, or a bow for that matter. A large plume of fire drove through the air over his head and made him duck. Thinking better of his maneuver, he decided to find a new spot. He ran to his left.
Cyrius poked his head out from behind the wall. He knew the arena; he had studied the arena. Only one trap had been set to work today, and that was the hidden pit on the far side of the ring. The trigger for the trap was on the opposite side of the trap. First sight had placed the trap in the category of "unreachable without death." Cyrius drew one of the daggers and held it at ready. A thought suddenly occurred to him. He searched for Archer. Oh, no. Flame is after him now. He decided now was the time to put his idea to the test.
"Syren! Tenk et num aus et tirk piet." Now Cyrius' only concern was that Archer used a different dialect of the Draconian tongue. No answer came.
Archer heard his name, but the words that followed were nothing more than gibberish. He peeked over the top of the trench. The silver was looking for him in the area he had just left. His eye caught a glint of metal directly in front of him. Cyrius was signaling him.
Cyrius was slightly frustrated that no answer had come. His mind told him it was a difference in dialects. Out of pure desperation, he tried another. "Helenk net auts frukent nyt est."
"Haufkten nishta deas nytenka."
Cyrius translated it. The dialects were similar, not the same but close enough. At least the two understood each other. He called out again. Syren, the only working trap it a large fallaway section of the floor. It is impossible to set it off alone. It is also impossible for two to set it off and both come out alive.
So, I take it you want one of us to act as bait.
"Dea." Cyrius stole across the floor of the arena to another hiding spot. Watch out, the drake is close to you.
Cyrius received no answer for a long moment. He thought he could make out some movement in the trench, but he only saw it for a brief moment. He waited for what seemed like forever. During his wait he watched as the silver released two fireballs at an imaginary target and three bursts of the paralyzing gas that is a characteristic of the silvers. Cyrius took the time to formulate a plan.
Archer ducked and took off running. He could feel the heat of the dissipating fireball behind him. He risked searching for the trap that Cyrius had mentioned and found it almost directly to his right. The trigger was on the far side of the arena, near Cyrius. Without a second thought, he gave his reply to Cyrius. Bait! Then, using his wings, he propelled himself over the trench wall and ran towards the other side of the trap door.
Cyrius ran to the trigger and readied to trip it. He watched in his peripheral vision as the silver turned to face the younger Draconian. A cloud of the paralyzing breath rendered Archer motionless and Cyrius heaved his weight into the trigger.
Archer felt himself falling, but knew he was helpless to stop himself. He landed in a cloud of dust and dirt, and Flame came down next to him. From up above he heard a loud clink, and a net fell over them both like a shroud. The silver had been caught with one casualty, Archer.
CHAPTER III
"Archer, I cannot stress how crazy and stupid your move was. The point of capturing an enemy is to help you stay alive. Cyrius, next time you speak in a foreign tongue use one the other person knows, and your enemy does not." Flame grinned. "The idea was brilliant, though. Archer, your trench running, duck as you move. Your one true folly with that strategy was that when you moved, I could see you. Cyrius, act more than you think. While you were hiding and studying the situation, your partner was being attacked. Overall, however, you did well. The objective was accomplished. Soon you will be able to do this without any casualties. Remember, you are no longer a part of a Draconian horde, you are working with small groups of no more than four or five. The Dragon Knights do not use brute force as often as you are used to." Flame finished and chuckled loudly. "With luck you will be the best."
"Thank you kindly, sir." Archer finished wiping the dust off his cloak and looked at a small area of the fabric that had been singed by a fireball.
"Soon you will learn secrets held by the dragons, well Archer may. I do not think that Cyrius would be pleased with the knowledge of how to use the death cloud. Archer, however, you will learn the Snowdragon's defensive paralyzing breath, if there is time. Both of you will be able to use fire. You will also learn how to communicate with your eyes, read eyes, and hear thoughts shown by eyes. Powerful tools to have as an ally."
"Sir, I would like to ask a question or two, but in private." Archer glanced up at the Silver, then at Cyrius.
"Very well. Cyrius, if you do not mind," Cyrius nodded and left. "Speak your mind, Archer."
"You know the history of this brooch and cloak, right?"
"Yes, they were both made by the mother of one of the two Silvers slain last night. They became a family heirloom. The brooch was usually worn by the women when they would go out for walks in their human form. The cloak was worn by the men. It was such until the eldest died, leaving the two mates to their home. The brooch and cloak were set aside with sentimental value and meant to be family heirlooms. Before her death, the eldest made a second brooch, one to be worn by the men and accompany the cloak. I am unsure which one you have with you right now."
"I have both, sir." Archer produced the second brooch from the pouch at his side.
"So you have. Unfortunate really. They were to be family heirlooms, but the children fled before this was mentioned to them. Well, two of them did. One was lost, taken still in the egg by Draconians. The other never saw light of day."
"I was told by the Silver, the female one, that 'one is meant for another in our line, and one is meant for me.' I guess I do not fully understand."
"Archer, how old are you?"
"Well, the Draconians do not really carry that concept, but I would guess near the early-twenties by your reckoning. Why?"
"Perhaps…." The Silver left it at that and turned. "I will have to get back to you. Rest for now. Dinner will be served soon. After that you will meet a few guests."
Archer watched as the Snowdragon disappeared down the corridor, leaving him alone. A feeling of slight annoyance coursed through him as he replayed the short conversation in his mind.
"Archer, come along and rest. You must be ready to impress the guests when they arrive."
Archer spun on one foot to face Cyrius. "Why, who is coming?"
"Well, like it or not you have found your way into the den of a highly respected dragon couple. Tonight's guests are members of the High Council, mainly intelligence, but a few from the military. All are important. I advise you to be on your best behavior, you will be judged and questioned. By the way, did you ever consider the possibility that perhaps you are a part of that family?" Cyrius walked up to Archer and tapped the brooch. Then without giving Archer a chance to respond he added: Well, just a thought. Come along.
Archer grumbled under his breath but followed along. How long have you been with the two dragons?
Not long, long enough to learn a few tricks here and there. They actually taught me to fly.
They are that good? Archer stopped walking, impressed.
Cyrius nodded and turned into a long hallway that branched from the main corridor. Are you tired?
Not especially. Why? Archer came up alongside to Cyrius and followed along at his side.
Well, if you are not, and if the Dragons are not resting, you could always ask one of them to teach you a few tricks. Most of it involves the eyes; well at least that is what I have been told. So, tell me this, Cyrius stopped and counted doorways before continuing. Where did you serve before you came here?
Defenses. Our first offensive was two nights ago. What about you? Where did you serve?
Cyrius recounted the doors again and stopped at the thirteenth. "NeitKorps." Cyrius looked over his shoulder and grinned at Archer. Surprised?
Archer stopped at the doorway for a brief moment. You are joking, right.
No. Come along, you must see this. Cyrius disappeared into the darkness beyond the door.
Archer shrugged and mumbled to himself before stepping over the threshold into the darkness. Hello? He jumped as the door shut behind him with a loud resonating boom.
"Drek a frieren, Archer. Telek nacit et nutum."
Wrong dialect. Archer searched the darkness for something, anything. He found it. Cyrius' blood red eye was smiling at him from near five yards away. Can't be…. Archer strained to see, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. It looked as if stripes of red and crimson were streaking Cyrius' body and glowing.
Sorry. Archer's train of thought was broken by Cyrius. There are no lights in here, yet. However, I do make one request: look up.
Archer looked up. Perfectly seen by his eyes, despite the darkness that shrouded the room, was a large mosaic. The scene portrayed was that of a Snowdragon curving under a plume of fire spouted by a massive black dragon. The tiles on the dragons themselves seemed more like scales, and the beasts seemed to be moving ever so slowly in space. The empty blue sky around them gave no depiction of time that either had passed or was yet to come. The tiles that made up the plume of fire seemed to be glowing with heat. The mosaic itself seemed to be giving off its own light.
Wondering if it were a dream, Archer slowly pulled away from the scene and looked at Cyrius. It dawned on him. The red glow came from the red dragon, which was hovering right over the black Draconian. Archer looked up again. The scene took him away to a battlefield far above the earth. The Silver's motions were fluid and graceful as it came up from under the fireball. The black dragon hissed loudly and dove at the Silver's back.
Well?
Archer was ripped from the fight. Torches were now lit and burning, lighting up the tiny room, which until now had seemed large. Irritated, Archer gazed upward again to catch a glimpse of the two dragons. To see who would win the fight. The mosaic was gone. A bare ceiling now hung over his head.
Where did it go? Archer strode up to Cyrius, who was grinning and leaning against the wall opposite the door.
Where did what go? That? Cyrius pointed up at a small, barely noticeable silver tile that was glinting in the torchlight.
What happened to the mosaic? Archer removed his cloak, unfurled his wings, and flew up to the tile to examine it. It was positioned right where the Snowdragon's back had been.
What mosaic? I was pointing out the glowing tile. Whenever there is no light the tile glows like a star. The first night I was here, that is what I mistook it for, a star.
Archer's mind was screaming for answers that were probably not coming for a while. He slowly dropped to the ground. Something crunched under his foot. He bent over and picked up a thin, flat rock. He turned it over and found himself looking into the bloodred eye of the black dragon. What do you make of this? He handed it over to Cyrius.
Cyrius studied it for a moment and looked up at Archer, a puzzled expression painted on his face. 'Tis an old flat stone. Why?
Archer took the tile. You do not see the eye?
No. I see an old, brown stone that is flat and thin. Probably chipped from the wall or ceiling.
Archer just shrugged and slid the tile into the pocket on the inside of his cloak. As he wrapped the cloak about him, he eyed Cyrius curiously. You really did not see the mosaic when the lights were out, did you.
No. Cyrius extinguished the torches one by one.
When the last torch had gone out, Archer glanced up in hopes of catching a last glimpse of the two dragons. All he could see was one silver tile glowing as bright as a star.
An hour later, Archer left Cyrius resting in the guest quarters and sought out the two Snowdragons. He found them ere long in the main entrance gazing out at the lands below. Archer came up beside Flare and looked out as well. At first glance, the forests that stretched out below were peaceful, but if one were to look out again one could see that small patches of the forest were burned and blackened. Small fires were scattered along the horizon. The war was coming closer.
"Archer, do you needed something?" Flare broke the silence but did not look away from the horizon.
"Yes, Cyrius took me to see the glowing tile, but I saw more than that. The entire ceiling was a mosaic that portrayed a scene. A Silver against a black dragon."
Flame looked over at him curiously. "You saw the mosaic?"
"Yes, I also found a tile on the ground, it had the black dragon's eye." He produced the tile and handed it over.
Flame held it with two talons and studied it intently. "It is the dragon's eye. However, that mosaic was destroyed long ago. How did you see it?"
"The room was dark and when I looked up it was there. After a while it felt like I was there inside of the mosaic."
"Who won?" Flare looked down at him. Her voice sounded hopeful.
Archer shook his head. "I cannot say, I did not see the end of it."
Flare nodded and looked over at Flame. A silent trade of words seemed to take place between the two for a short while until Flame looked down at Archer. "Go rest up. It is going to be a long night for you."
Archer nodded and bowed. Before he left, Flame stopped him and handed back the eye.
"Return this to the room before you go to rest."
Archer gave the two a curt nod, bowed again, and left the two, who had returned to watching the horizon.
CHAPTER IV
Night came sooner than expected when gray storm clouds filled the sky. Rain fell in sheets and found its way into the open-ceilinged room of Cyrius and Archer. Anything left uncovered was soon soaked. Archer chuckled slightly as the water ran down his face and onto the rock floor. Both of the Draconians quickly shed their cloaks and stowed them in a dry, sheltered place, allowing the rain to run off their quick-drying scales. Then, to pass the time, the two friends struck up torches, drew swords, and held friendly sparring matches.
By the time the guests arrived Cyrius was tending a small cut on his arm while Archer laughed apologetically at his side. They entered the main hall, now clad in their cloaks, still pushing each other playfully. Cyrius looked up at the guests and fell silent upon matching names with their appropriate faces.
"Archer, Cyrius, glad to see you in such high spirits. I trust you know who most of these guests are?" Flare grinned at the two companions.
Cyrius nodded, "Indeed some whether we like it or not. Sir Gilden, I did tell you we would meet again."
"Yes, you are lucky we are now on friendly terms." The Knight grinned uneasily, recognizing his old adversary.
"I consider myself so. Sirs Edward, Aarynden, Aleksandr, Yur'll, a pleasure to see you all again. The rest of you, however, I am unfamiliar with."
"Ah, friend Cyrius, those would be Lady Gilldomere, her knight for the evening, Sir Iglamore, the mistress Silvianna, and her husband Sir Gallan." Archer's eyes lit up under his hood. "A pleasure to meet you all, I am sure. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Archer Centrelli, and this is my friend and dear companion, Cyrius Centrelli. I do believe I speak for us both when I say that it is an honor to be in the same room as those who are capable to stand up to the likes of us."
Flare glanced over at Flame. "I told you they would already know each other well."
"Flame, you were just telling us a bit about these two, but never mentioned anything about their pasts. Just who are they, or were they?" Gallan's gaze drifted over to the two and studied them.
"Part of why I never told you who they were is because I do not even know that my self. When they arrived, they chose to leave their pasts behind. We never speak of it unless they start the conversation, and then they can finish it when they choose."
Lady Gilldomere spoke up. "Well, I would like to say that it is hard to sit in the same room as those who have hunted you."
"Milady, it is hard to live with those whom you have hunted and killed. None of us feels completely comfortable with this alliance. Despite this, we have agreed to join you. Please do realize we are just as nervous as you."
"Now you do realize that you two are not the only ones to have joined us in an odd alliance, there is one other, Myriad. He is at our Tryst'n fortress on the warfront." Gallan directed the statement at everyone in the room. "Myriad is a Baaz who joined a while ago, near three weeks. He is already in battle on our side. But I do not wish to speak of that, what I would like to know is what made you choose to leave your kind?"
"Perhaps some of us are capable of thinking on our own and realized a thing or two." Archer yawned, the sparring had tired him out.
Mistress Silvianna spoke up. "What urged you to join?"
"Well, for me it was the sense of seeing my past and knowing what my future held."
Archer thought a moment before speaking. "The death of someone close to me, whom I killed." He pulled the hood further over his head. "I am truly sorry, but I must excuse myself for a short while." He bowed quickly and walked out of the room.
Cyrius cast a glance at the two silvers.
"I would like an explanation for that." James glared at Cyrius. Cyrius did not respond, but rather left the silence to stand.
"Archer is a trusted friend. He does nothing without proper reason. Do not take offense to his actions. He has his reasons and I do not question them." Flare let the silence settle once more before she spoke again. "Now then, what else would you like to discuss?"
Gilldomere stood. "If you will excuse me," She started in the direction of Archer. "Tell me what I miss when I get back."
Iglamore watched her walk off after the Draconian, a slight look of concern crossing his face. "How much trust do you have in that one."
Cyrius looked to the two Silvers before answering. "Archer is a good friend. His word is stronger than that of any other person I have ever met,"
"You kill them all ere they have the chance to speak."
"Not true! Archer is here to change for the better. By my life I guarantee he will."
"And you?" Iglamore glared up at the Draconian. "Why are you here?"
"The same reasons. However, unlike my friend my past is a bit more bearable." Cyrius breathed out slowly and a thin wisp of smoke drifted from under the hood of his cloak. "Sir Iglamore, despite what you may be thinking, you are here for us. By us, I refer to Archer and myself. We control the conversation and we have the power to eject any of you from the meeting, forcefully if necessary."
"And the Silvers? They are the ones who invited us. They must have a say on the matter." Iglamore crossed his arms and took a step towards the Draconian.
"The Silvers are our overseers. They intervene only if they see cause to. Otherwise they are just listening to us." Cyrius wished his hood were not as low as it was, or Iglamore would learn how just wickedly a Draconian could glare at someone he despised.
Iglamore looked up to see the two dragons nod in affirmation of the Draconian's words and looked towards the far wall, in obvious agitation.
"Archer?" Lady Gilldomere found him in a room near the end of the hall. Light was cast from a single torch in the far corner, causing shadows to dance about the room and walls. Archer was in the center of the room gazing up at the ceiling. "Archer, I am sorry if-"
"You have no reason to be." He stood silent for a moment. "Answer me a question, if you will."
"Anything. Ask me anything." She came towards him and stood facing him.
"What do you know of the Callystrin Snowdragon family."
"During the Great War they were very involved. Never a second thought about helping on the front. They always gave good council and were so very kind."
"What about children. Did they have any?"
"O, yes. Four...well, there were to be four. One night one of the eggs was stolen. During the theft, a second was crushed. The stolen one was that of their only son. He was to be named Drysdin."
"What has become of the rest?"
"Well, the two sisters eventually left. One went over the sea while the second stayed in the Mirkilains, but further north."
"Any chance I could find them, or at least one of them?" Archer continued to gaze up at the ceiling.
"I could send a summons to the sister who is still here. Eleanor is her name."
"And the one who left?"
"Alyse."
"I killed them, you know, the two adults. What were there names?"
"Celeste and Stryker." She looked up at him. "Archer?"
"Yes?" He looked down from the ceiling.
"If I may say so, you do look like Celeste…."
"I wish you would not say that."
"Why not?"
"That may be part of why I am here."
"I am sorry for mentioning it." She paused. "Well, I must be returning to the meeting. I have no doubts that dear old James is waiting for me."
"Thank you, for your offer of help. Come, we will go back together."
As soon as they set foot in the main hall, James came to meet them. "Come along, Sariah, the meeting is still underway."
"I am truly sorry, but I have to return home now. I promised mother I would be back for dinner."
"Will you be leaving, James?" Archer inquired as he made his way towards the two Snowdragons.
"No, I was hoping to stay longer." He shot Archer a look.
"Quite alright. We were just planning on leaving." Silvianna and Gallan stood. "Michael and I can escort her home safely."
"Thank you. Well, James, perhaps I will see you to-morrow."
"With luck." James strode back to his seat.
The conversation went well into the night. The guests slowly drifted out one by one, Archer would escort each to the door while Cyrius would stay and entertain those whom had yet to leave. James was the last to excuse himself from the den. Archer saw him out.
Once they were near the main entrance and out of sight and earshot of the others, James came to a sudden halt and drove his knee into Archer's gut. He pinned the Draconian against the wall, drew a hidden dagger and pressed it against Archer's throat.
"Draconian, I do not know you, I do not like you, and I know you do not like me." He lifted the blade and pressed it against the side of Archer's face. "I guarantee you now, if you are not who you claim you will be I will kill you." He whipped the dagger down, leaving a streak of blood on Archer's face. As he disappeared into the night he yelled back, "I will be watching you."
Archer reached up to his face and wiped the blood away. You have no need to watch me, James, I am changed and need no one to tell me otherwise. He turned slowly, drew the hood over his face, and strode back towards the main hall.
CHAPTER V
Rain came and stayed the week through. One night in particular it was the sensation of cold water against his face that woke Archer from disturbing dreams. A quick glance at his surroundings quickly told him that Cyrius was gone, no doubt conversing with the Silvers. He slowly brought himself to a stance and stepped out into the main hallway, folding his wings as a cloak to help him stay warm. From down the hall he heard a soft clink, like that of metal against metal. He glanced down in the direction from whence it came. At the end of the hall, he could see something flicker, like torchlight. He began walking towards it.
As he neared it the torchlight faded and a soft blue glow took its place. Archer stepped into the room. His first sensation was that the room had no floor, walls, or ceiling. The blue glow came from a crystal in the center of the room, and the glow caused everything blend together. He took an unsteady step forward. The blue light faded and the crystal shone like daylight. Surrounding Archer were paintings and artwork of various other styles. Most of the paintings were landscapes, but one caught his eye. It had a single figure standing alone in a shaft of light. All around him were shadows that looked like they belonged to trees, but it was hard to tell. Archer studied it a moment before moving to the next. This one had a monstrous waterfall feeding a bright, sunlit lake. Surrounding the lake was a wide grassy clearing. Surrounding the clearing was an endless forest. The scene held him. He stepped closer to examine it. On the wooden frame was a silver plate that said "Pearl Lake fed by Blue Falls."
"Do you like it?"
Archer jumped and hissed, half out of habit; half out of being surprised.
Flare laughed. "Sorry to scare you like that."
Archer turned. Flare was standing behind him in her human form. Her light brown hair fell past her shoulders. Her face, which was well lit by the crystal's light, was fair, and her green eyes smiled pleasantly.
"Well, yes. I am quite impressed." He turned back to the painting. "Where is this?"
"Oh, the Pearl Lake and Blue Falls are in…." She let the sentence trail off and cocked her head to one side. "Did you hear that?"
"What?" Archer strained to listen while she ran to the entrance to the room. Not hearing it, he followed.
"There. I heard it again." She walked out into the hall.
"I don't hear-" A soft clang came from down the hall. A shout, faint but audible soon followed it. The shout was in Drakoník, the language he had been brought up in. "Oh, no." He ran to his room to fetch his swords.
Cyrius met him in the hallway and tossed him both blades, already drawn and joined. "The den is under attack. Come along."
In the main hall, the two both found their old troops. Cyrius' led by Pyre; Archer's by his old second in command, a Bozak named Berryll.
"Each man to his corps. Ready?"
Archer nodded. Neither had to wait long, however. No sooner had they entered the hall had the two commanders targeted out the two. Both made there way over, scimitars drawn and ready.
"Let them attack first."
Archer nodded, but did not to wait long. Berryll attacked as soon as he was in range. The scimitar arced level to Archer's midsection. The attack was easily stopped. Archer brought his second blade down at Berryll's open skull. The path of the blade was blocked.
"Be careful who you kill and how you kill them. You are no use to me dead." Cyrius pulled his sword back and resumed his fight with Pyre.
Archer brought both blades to a ready position and swung a low attack. The attack was deflected and Archer swung the second blade towards Berryll's mid-section. Berryll brought his own blade up surprisingly fast and blocked that attack as well. Archer only grinned to himself, spun with the momentum given by Berryll's block, took a step forward and buried the blade into the commander's back. Berryll fell, stunned. Archer caught another attack coming from behind in his peripheral vision and disconnected the two blades. He drove the freed blade out behind him at midlevel and laughed loudly as the attacker literally ran into the blade. He quickly freed both blades and looked frantically for Cyrius.
Cyrius ran every training session he had ever had through his head. There was a reason why Pyre was head of the Korps, and Cyrius was using all the skill he had to survive it. Everything was moving fast. Most everything Cyrius did was out of reflex and instinct. He knew if he paused to second-guess a movement, he would die. Off to his left another Draconian charged to attack him. Without a thought, Cyrius broke the attack with Pyre, swung out at the attacker, wounding him and putting him out of the fight. Pyre chuckled and took advantage of the distraction. He brought his own blade around at Cyrius. Cyrius saw the attack too late to block with his sword, and instead turned his shoulder to the blade. The cold steel bit into his arm and he hissed loudly. Though the blow was weak, it was effective in disabling Cyrius' sword arm. Pyre chuckled and brought his blade up for the deathblow.
The sound of metal against metal rang throughout the hall as Archer brought one of his blades in between Cyrius and Pyre. Archer continued through with his running charge and threw his weight into Pyre, sending the Draconian sprawling to the floor.
Fool. Only those who wish to die challenge me. Pyre picked himself up and attacked Archer with stunning speed.
Archer stepped back with each blow, keeping the blade in his right ready to defend against the next while the blade in his left stayed ready for an attack. Pyre suddenly lunged forward and made to stab Archer, who sidestepped and brought the left-hand blade around to meet Pyre's side. The blade hit home. The wounded Draconian let out a low hiss and vanished in a flurry of wings.
"Cyrius!" Archer ran and knelt beside his friend. "Are you alright?"
"I shall live." Cyrius glanced around him. "Oh, no." He pulled himself to his feet, with Archer's help. A slight sense of panic was slowly building in his mind as he realized that the entire force had cornered Flame in the arena.
"Need help?" Archer spun, bringing both blades to ready, and found himself facing James. He gave a nod and watched the knight run off towards the arena.
I do not trust him.
Cyrius nodded in agreement. Keep a careful eye on him.
Flame was already dead. The noise they had thought to be a battle was, in fact, a celebration. Members of the draconian horde were dancing about wildly, singing songs Archer had already forgotten, while climbing over the dead Snowdragon and driving their weapons into the scaly skin. Archer saw the sight and growled. He glanced over at James, who was frowning and shaking his head.
"This is not right, they were not-" He caught himself even as Archer reached out to grab him by the collar.
He pulled away and steeped back, only to run into Cyrius.
"You knew about the attack?" Archer drew a sword and fingered the sharp blade.
"You do not understand, I made a deal with them." He grinned. "They did not live up to their part of the bargain." He glanced over at Flame. "However, you will make a fine substitute."
He charged, drawing a concealed dagger from behind his back. Archer caught James by the wrist, stopping the dagger's advance, and buried his blade in the knight's gut.
"Answer me, what was the bargain?" James did not answer. "What did they say to you?"
"They said…." James stopped and laughed.
The laugh was cold and sent shivers coursing through Archer's body. He shook it off. "What did they say?" Archer leaned down closer to James.
"They were both mine." Then the knight slumped over, dead.
Archer let him fall and freed his blade. "Cyrius, find Flare. I will do something with the horde."
"There is a series of switches in the weapons room. Put them all up to activate all of the traps. The ones with red targets are lethal."
"I will remember that." Archer disappeared into the weapons room.
"Take care, friend." Cyrius ran off to find Flare.
When Archer came back out of the weapons room he had a quiver of arrows strapped to his side, the blades were sheathed, and he was gripping a torch and a longbow.
Pyre was fading, and he knew it. Silently, under his breath he cursed the two warriors. The Nightstalker and the Sivak would die, and he would be the one to see to it. He turned to face the dead Silver. Just as he was doing so, he saw something flash past his peripheral vision. He turned quickly, despite the protesting pain in his side. Something flashed past again, only this time the floor immediately behind Pyre vanished, as did all standing there. He turned to look into the pit but something flew down in front of his face. It was a flaming arrow. The silver arrow sunk into the chest of a stunned Bozak and the explosion that followed ensured that all in he pit were now dead. Another arrow flashed past his head. He followed it and watched as it sunk into a red, wooden target. Bright plumes of fire suddenly filled half of the arena floor. Explosions, screams, and shouts of warning filled the arena. Pyre heard a crack and looked up. A large wooden platform, well the size of half of the arena, was burning. Two flaming arrows had buried themselves in its underside. Pyre took to the air and flew for the entrance to the arena.
Archer cut the ropes suspending the platform and watched as it fell, killing and trapping all under it. Archer pulled his last arrow from the quiver and aimed at a red target in the far corner of the arena. The arrow flew true and sunk into the wood. With a loud roar, circular blades housed under the entire arena floor rose and spun, shredding all that were not capable of taking to the air. Archer then unfurled his wings and glided to the arena entrance, silently challenging any of the survivors to stop him. None did.
Cyrius found Flare in the room of the shining tile. A crimson pool covered the ground around her. He hurriedly turned her onto her back. The dagger wound was deep, but only fatal if left unattended. He breathed a quick sigh of relief. At least one should live. He removed his cloak and began to tear it into strips.
CHAPTER VI
In the days that followed, Cyrius tended to Flare while Archer worked to make the Arena a tomb. Seldom a word was passed by either of the three. The only sound that would break the silence was that of a stone falling against another. That alone was enough.
One week after the attack, halfway through the day, a low rumble filled the caverns and halls.
"Well, Archer will be done now." Cyrius looked over to Flare.
"Cyrius, I want you to do something. I will not approach Archer with this because his mind is set on another task already, and is thinking quite the opposite."
"Revenge." Cyrius nodded. "I know where the hideaway for my group is, and I will go if you like."
"Thank you, but do take this." She handed him a crystal. "The stone acts as a tracer and will help you find who you seek."
"Thank you." He took the crystal and placed it in the inside pocket of a dark blue cloak he had been given. It had once belonged to Flame, but not anymore.
"Good luck, Cyrius." She left the room.
"Archer," Flare came up behind the Sivak. "I wish to tell you this, and I cannot tell Cyrius, because he would not have wanted it so. I am leaving, going away to the lands of the Pearl Lake. Do take care."
Without waiting for him to respond, she ran down the hall toward the main entrance. By the time Archer reached the entrance to the cave, she was gone.
Cyrius adjusted his cloak as he came to the entrance of the den. He eyed Archer quizzically before making his presence known.
"Friend, I am leaving for a short while. Take care of things while I am gone."
"She left, Cyrius. You just missed her."
"What?" Cyrius ran outside of the cave and scanned the horizon. True to Archer's word, she was gone. "I did not think she would leave yet." His comment got a glance form Archer. "Well, I am leaving as well, do take care." He waved and began walking towards the east.
Archer watched him go and turned to return to the caverns when he saw a lone figure coming from the west.
"Archer!" It was Lady Gilldomere. She ran up to him. "Archer, I found out where one of the Callystrin sisters is staying. I sent a summons but it has gone unanswered. I fear she is gone."
"Well, if so she would not be the only one. Come, there is much you need to hear." Then he took her into the caverns and related the story that had just passed to her.
-Archer Centrelli
The Dragon's Son
By Matthew Vazquez
INTRODUCTION
The Old Wars
Long ago in the history of a far away world, a dark Dragon Lord named Armageddon ravaged the lands, destroying many of the dragon races and dragon kin. Together, with five other dragons, Stryker was able to defeat the Dragon Lord and trapped him inside of a dormant volcano, Dragon Mountain. The prison held him for nearly 65 million years before an unknown force released him. The descendants of the original six dragons that defeated him the first time gathered to combat Armageddon. To help in their efforts, they organized a force of knights, known as the Dragon Knights, and made ready to attack the Dragon Lord. Unknown to all of them, Armageddon was not alone. Vertigo, his mate, had been waiting for the opportune time to release the Dragon Lord, and after millions of years of waiting, was not ready to be defeated as easily as Armageddon had once been. Together, the two Dark Dragons massed up a fighting force christened the Black Knights. They also convinced many of the dragons to ally with them, and with the strong numbers, waged war.
The battle against the pair was costly, and seeing how the earth needed its own defense in case they were soon gone, the Guardians solidified the newly forged Dragon Knights. With their help, the knighthood soon became recognized as the new peace keeping force and enforcer throughout the lands. All this while, Armageddon was brewing plans of revenge. He gathered together a force of the most feared thieves, assassins, and the remaining survivors of the Black Knighthood, and readied for a new war.
This second war swept throughout the lands, bringing to the surface every conflict that had ever arisen between species, races, and kingdoms. The wars were violent and brought new forms of combat and wizardry to the battlefields. The great Noble Dragons and their allies were pitted against their evil brothers. Firedragons, Stardragons, Waterdragons, Winddragons, Snowdragons, and Earthdragons waged fierce battles in the skies. In an effort to gain a military edge over the forces of The Dragon Knights, the dark sorcerers conceived a new hybrid warrior. This warrior was formed from dragon eggs stolen from their nests. The end result was a dragon hybrid warrior known as the Draconian. Standing on average seven feet tall with the metallic skin of their unknown families, the Draconians soon became feared. They had the teeth, horns, wings, and a tail like a dragon, yet fought and spoke like a human. The tides of war changed. However, due to the clashing of various types and styles of magic used in the creation of these beasts, several variations, or "styles" of Draconians were formed. Some had the misfortune of turning to stone instantly upon death, silently disarming the victor, while others would explode, capturing all near them in a spectacular ball of fire that would kill all in it. Some would expel poisonous gasses while another would take the form of the one who killed him, often times causing confusion.
The Draconians were a devoted warrior race and soon became feared by both their enemies and allies. They were often sent to do the most dangerous missions, tasks that were labeled impossible by many of the Generals in the Black Knights. Due to their skill and often times fanatical devotion to their allies, the Draconians would always leave a surprise, whether it was success, or in the rare instances of defeat, fighting to the last man and inflicting terrible damage to the other side.
Despite this new weapon, the dark forces once more began to fall back in their attacks. The forces of The Knighthood were winning, and using newer methods of attack and defense to keep the Draconians at bay. In the end, all would go there own separate way. The Draconians became a new race in the world, and learned how to make more of their own kind from the dragon eggs. Their numbers would go on to grow near unchecked.
During this second war a rumor spread, telling of unlikely warriors for the Dragon Knight forces. The rumor spread and became a popular tale long after the war's end. Very few, though, knew that the tale was true.
PART ONE
CHAPTER I
The Draconian horde was restless. Never before had so many massed together for this particular style of attack. Never before had this particular group massed together for an attack. They all belonged to the defensive forces and never had they fought in an offensive, save once, a surprise attack on a small expeditionary force near their base. From far off in the distance, sounds could be heard another attack of the same type in another Snowdragon den, that attack being carried though by an elite warrior group.
Scythe groaned and gripped the scimitar in his talons tighter. His silver scales were shining in the moonlight and the feeling of being so open was near torture. In his mind, the attack was pointless. The way he figured it, they were invading the den, the home, of a Snowdragon couple to help tip the scales in their favor. This was not only considered suicidal by most but also very useless, as the death toll would only be a lot to two. As it was, he stood to lose most of his troop. A horn sounded a low note. It was almost time. He stole a quick glance over at the flaming mountain in the distance. Somewhere over there, we are doing the same thing. All for a wretched victory over the Silvers. He grinned at the thought, hoping he would be alive to see at least one of the Snowdragons, or Silvers for short, die. Another low note sounded, then another. He listened intently as several more joined and waited to add his own, waiting until all other twenty horns sounded together. Once he sounded his own horn, the troop charged into the den.
The first to enter were struck by a wall of flames that killed them instantly. The rest charged through and attacked. The fighting was fierce and close. If ever a commanding Bozak would die, the explosion would take down most of the warriors around him. The death toll was already massive. Stone bodies and bits of acidic blood were littering the den's rock floor, and the shouts and screams of the Draconian troop echoed off the walls, almost drowning out the loud bellows of the massive Snowdragons. One of the two dragons let out a loud shriek as nets covered it and pulled it tight against the rock floor, the other answered, but could not react in time as a similar attack caught it off guard. Both of the mighty beasts were trapped.
Scythe ordered all of the warriors [save those that were holding the dragons down] back into their ranks. He waited until he was certain all of the survivors were in place, anxiously folding his wings first over his shoulders as a cloak, and then neatly behind him as a cape. He finally decided the cape was more his look.
You have done well, for a defensive troop. You have captured two of our mightiest foes. He motioned back at the wounded beasts. Now we vote, execute them now, or take them home. You choose their fates. He held his blade ready, anticipating the answer. It came. In unison, the troops ordered the deaths of the Snowdragons. Scythe grinned. Very well.
He stepped up to the nearest Silver. It was the male. His scimitar was ready to kill without remorse. He waited, though, as something caught his attention. He stared into the green eyes, seizing their full attention with his own amber eyes. The struggling Silver was still ready to fight and Scythe knew it. "What for Silver? Why live to see tomorrow?" He did not wait for an answer and strode over to the Silver's mate. She gazed up at him in an awkward way. It took Scythe a moment to realize it was the way a mother looks at her young. "What do you wish, beast?"
"That you take what is on the stone table. One is for another in our line, and one was meant for you."
Scythe eyed her with intent curiosity. "What do you mean by this?"
"You will know when the time is right. I will say no more."
Scythe stared deeply into the amber eyes of the Silver and saw himself in them. It frightened him. He raised the sword quickly and dealt the Silver a deathblow. A single tear was sliding away from the now lifeless eye of the dragon. From across the den he heard the male dragon let out a loud bellow. Scythe was frozen; he could not bring his eyes from the motionless body of the Silver. Deep within him something was now gone, and it hurt him.
When the troop saw Scythe not moving to slay the second dragon, they began to protest and urge him to end it quick before the silver could escape. When his only movement was to shift his gaze to the male dragon, they took matters into their own hands. The male Silver died silently with his eyes locked on those of the Silver Draconian.
Once the troop had begun the march back home, Scythe took a temporary leave and wandered into the main hall of the dragons' den. The decorations were exquisite and, he noticed, untouched by the blood-crazy Draconians. He ran a clawed hand softly across a painting of what must have been the entire drake family in their human form. The eyes looked out at him from inside the portrait, and followed him, saying something that to him was unheard, yet he knew was there. He turned from it and walked to the stone table. Folded neatly was a gray hooded cloak with two brooches laid upon it. Both were wrought of silver and bore the images of a dragon with wings spread. Both had the same green emerald wings. However, one had amber eyes and the other had sapphire blue eyes. He took all three items and placed on of the brooches, the blue eyed one, in a pouch at his side. Then he adorned himself with the cloak and clasped it with the amber-eyed dragon brooch. He turned away from the table, drawing the hood over his head and expecting to leave, but a glint caught his eye. He walked towards the source to find a looking glass. Curious as to what he looked like with the cloak he paused to examine his image. He started when the image looking back at him was that of the silver he had just killed.
He left the looking glass shattered and left the den. Messengers had informed the troop earlier that the raid on the Flaming Mountain den had not been successful, so he searched a path from his vantagepoint that led to the Flaming Mountain den and began to follow it.
CHAPTER II
They called him the Nightstalker because his scales were blacker than night and his eyes would glow blood red constantly. Well, one of them, the left having been blinded by a blade during a battle long ago. He was the result of a cruel joke against a black dragon. His skill with a blade and leading armies of Draconians against the Knighthood's forces was considered unparalleled. Now, however, he was the new Draconian definition of a disgrace. He had failed to conquer the two Snowdragons he had been sent to slay, and he had turned against his forces in a surprising manner. Only a few of his troops survived the fight against the two Silvers and the Nightstalker.
Nightstalker was astonished to find that the two Silvers welcomed him in, and he even looked to them to choose a new name for himself. Now he was to be known by the Dragon Knights forces as Cyrius Centrelli, and he liked it that way. Most of his first day in the den had been spent resting and listening to different stories about the shared adventures of the dragon couple. However now it was nearing nightfall and his sleeping throughout the day rendered him sleepless for the rest of the evening. Just to help prevent total boredom he began to wander around the den's massive corridors, being careful not to enter the sleeping chambers of the two dragons, as they were now resting peacefully. He wandered about for near three hours and explored many of the different caves and rooms in the den.
Although he himself was excited over the discoveries made in the den, a wave of boredom struck him and gave him the urge to step outside to enjoy the cool evening breeze. Just as he was nearing the final turn that would lead him to the entrance, the sound of clawed feet walking through the entryway made him freeze. He crouched low and waited for whoever was coming. As soon as the intruder had rounded the corner, Cyrius pounced and pinned him to the ground.
"Ack…."
Cyrius found himself looking down into the amber eyes of a Silver Draconian. He reached for the sword at his side. "Who are you, why are you in these halls?"
"Would you please let me up. Besides, I am not so sure I should speak to you right at this moment. Now answer me this, what is your business here?" The Draconian tried to push Cyrius off himself.
Cyrius drew the blade.
A loud voice from behind them both prevented what was about to follow. "Cyrius, replace the blade and let the traveler up. I wish to speak to him." Cyrius let the Silver Draconian up, but kept a wary watch over him. "Now Draconian, speak true, why do you bear the cloak and brooch of my friends up north?"
Scythe stood and bowed slightly. "I see that now I am not original in my thinking." Scythe motioned to Cyrius. "As he has done I now wish to do. I come offering my blade and services to the Dragon Knights."
"Your skills lie in what fields?" The Silver inquired.
"Archery and sword play, and I am a trained assassin." Scythe answered truthfully, though he felt a sharp pain in his gut as he mentioned the last.
"Your last target?" The Silver continued.
"Your friends in the north, sir." Scythe lowered his head. "And I am afraid to report that the attack was a success."
Archer Centrelli, as you will now be called, forget your past. You will train with Cyrius." The Snowdragon spoke no more and left the two Draconians alone.
"Cast away the scimitar, you will not need that here." Cyrius grinned slightly and nodded towards Archer. "Welcome to your new home."
"Thank you kindly, sir. Home indeed, though I am afraid it will only bring to surface a haunting past."
"Part of choosing a new path is refusing to dwell on old memories. Learn to realize that what is done is done. Do not blame yourself for all that has happened, and if you are at fault learn to forgive yourself. After you have done that, training will begin. You are now a Dragon Knight. Welcome."
Cyrius motioned Archer to follow him to the rooming quarters he had been given. "There is more than enough room for the both of us." He explained while pointing out several features that were not in the old Draconian homes [if they could even be called that.] When the tour was over, Cyrius grinned. "It must seem odd to you, and let me tell you it is odd to me. I just learned this the night of the raids last evening. I am new to this as well, so forgive me if I slip up. I recommend you sleep well tonight, though, as it will help you to focus in the morning, and it will also refresh your mind."
"A good night's rest sounds good. Thank you for the offer. I will see you in the morning."
Cyrius nodded and left Archer alone in the room. Archer found a comfortable spot and lay down on his back. Up above him, unnoticed until now, was an opening in the roof of the room. Above him was a vast sky filled with stars. He slept well that night with no troubling dreams.
The next morning greeted Archer warmly and he was soon fully awake and refreshed. A new sensation of freedom filled his thoughts and subconscious mind. He journeyed from the sleeping chambers and met Cyrius, who was already awake and conversing with the two Snowdragons. This was the first time Archer had ever looked at the great creatures and not felt that his life was endangered. He took the opportunity to study them and become familiar with their kind. Graceful yet massive beasts, these two about one hundred and forty feet in length. Coated in a mail of silvery scales that shine bright. Absolutely wonderful! He paused his thoughts. I would have been one if the Draconians had not taken me from my nest ere I saw light of day, but then I would probably be dead by now.
The male Silver was the first to notice his presence. "Welcome, Archer. I trust that you slept well?"
"Yes indeed, milord. I thank you for your hospitality." Archer replied, bowing politely as he spoke.
"Archer, the council has heard both the cases presented by you and Cyrius. You are under my care and my watch. However, if you do threaten any other Dragon Knight in any way you will be my lunch. Your services are to be taken up without any complaints, and when you speak to another you speak the truth, unless ordered other wise or if it means the life of either you or the one spoken to. Understand?"
"Oh really, Syren, is that any way to treat a guest? Hello Archer, I am Flare, and this beast on my right is Syren, though he does like to be referred to as Flame." The female Silver grinned slightly. "Come, eat. You will need it." She cast a sarcastic look to her mate.
The breakfast was good and satisfied Archer's hunger. When everyone was through eating, Cyrius and Flame led the Silver Draconian to a weapons room. Covering the walls were various tools of all shapes, sizes, and types. Maces, though very few, had there own spot in the center of the room with the battleaxes. Several staves, swords, lances, bows and arrows, and even a few thin stilettos covered the rest of the walls. Archer picked out a sturdy staff and a set of two swords that could be joined as one at the handles to form a double bladed sword. Cyrius took with him only two daggers and the sword that he had carried with him the day before. Then the three went into the arena.
The arena was a large room, not empty but full of obstacles of varying difficulty and content. Water traps, walls, ditches and rocks were all over the floor, the walls enclosing the arena were full of handgrips, and a platform was suspended above the floor, ideal for an archer, yet accessible only by climbing the vertical walls or by flight. Also noticeable throughout the room were traps of various sorts that were set up to be triggered through different methods.
"Here you fight and learn to fight better. Archer and Cyrius, you will try to use and hone your skills. Use the arena's resources to trap me. Go, now."
Without another word, the dragon took the offensive. A shaft of flame came at Cyrius, who ducked behind one of the thick, wooden climbing walls of the arena. Archer took advantage of the moment to disappear into a trench. From here, he could see most of the devices and obstacles around him, and he was certain he was out of view. A large net, hooked by releases to chains, was suspended over an area of the arena to his far right. Most of these look gnomish. Archer looked for the trigger. A large, round wooden target to the side of the net must have been it. And I do not have any arrows, or a bow for that matter. A large plume of fire drove through the air over his head and made him duck. Thinking better of his maneuver, he decided to find a new spot. He ran to his left.
Cyrius poked his head out from behind the wall. He knew the arena; he had studied the arena. Only one trap had been set to work today, and that was the hidden pit on the far side of the ring. The trigger for the trap was on the opposite side of the trap. First sight had placed the trap in the category of "unreachable without death." Cyrius drew one of the daggers and held it at ready. A thought suddenly occurred to him. He searched for Archer. Oh, no. Flame is after him now. He decided now was the time to put his idea to the test.
"Syren! Tenk et num aus et tirk piet." Now Cyrius' only concern was that Archer used a different dialect of the Draconian tongue. No answer came.
Archer heard his name, but the words that followed were nothing more than gibberish. He peeked over the top of the trench. The silver was looking for him in the area he had just left. His eye caught a glint of metal directly in front of him. Cyrius was signaling him.
Cyrius was slightly frustrated that no answer had come. His mind told him it was a difference in dialects. Out of pure desperation, he tried another. "Helenk net auts frukent nyt est."
"Haufkten nishta deas nytenka."
Cyrius translated it. The dialects were similar, not the same but close enough. At least the two understood each other. He called out again. Syren, the only working trap it a large fallaway section of the floor. It is impossible to set it off alone. It is also impossible for two to set it off and both come out alive.
So, I take it you want one of us to act as bait.
"Dea." Cyrius stole across the floor of the arena to another hiding spot. Watch out, the drake is close to you.
Cyrius received no answer for a long moment. He thought he could make out some movement in the trench, but he only saw it for a brief moment. He waited for what seemed like forever. During his wait he watched as the silver released two fireballs at an imaginary target and three bursts of the paralyzing gas that is a characteristic of the silvers. Cyrius took the time to formulate a plan.
Archer ducked and took off running. He could feel the heat of the dissipating fireball behind him. He risked searching for the trap that Cyrius had mentioned and found it almost directly to his right. The trigger was on the far side of the arena, near Cyrius. Without a second thought, he gave his reply to Cyrius. Bait! Then, using his wings, he propelled himself over the trench wall and ran towards the other side of the trap door.
Cyrius ran to the trigger and readied to trip it. He watched in his peripheral vision as the silver turned to face the younger Draconian. A cloud of the paralyzing breath rendered Archer motionless and Cyrius heaved his weight into the trigger.
Archer felt himself falling, but knew he was helpless to stop himself. He landed in a cloud of dust and dirt, and Flame came down next to him. From up above he heard a loud clink, and a net fell over them both like a shroud. The silver had been caught with one casualty, Archer.
CHAPTER III
"Archer, I cannot stress how crazy and stupid your move was. The point of capturing an enemy is to help you stay alive. Cyrius, next time you speak in a foreign tongue use one the other person knows, and your enemy does not." Flame grinned. "The idea was brilliant, though. Archer, your trench running, duck as you move. Your one true folly with that strategy was that when you moved, I could see you. Cyrius, act more than you think. While you were hiding and studying the situation, your partner was being attacked. Overall, however, you did well. The objective was accomplished. Soon you will be able to do this without any casualties. Remember, you are no longer a part of a Draconian horde, you are working with small groups of no more than four or five. The Dragon Knights do not use brute force as often as you are used to." Flame finished and chuckled loudly. "With luck you will be the best."
"Thank you kindly, sir." Archer finished wiping the dust off his cloak and looked at a small area of the fabric that had been singed by a fireball.
"Soon you will learn secrets held by the dragons, well Archer may. I do not think that Cyrius would be pleased with the knowledge of how to use the death cloud. Archer, however, you will learn the Snowdragon's defensive paralyzing breath, if there is time. Both of you will be able to use fire. You will also learn how to communicate with your eyes, read eyes, and hear thoughts shown by eyes. Powerful tools to have as an ally."
"Sir, I would like to ask a question or two, but in private." Archer glanced up at the Silver, then at Cyrius.
"Very well. Cyrius, if you do not mind," Cyrius nodded and left. "Speak your mind, Archer."
"You know the history of this brooch and cloak, right?"
"Yes, they were both made by the mother of one of the two Silvers slain last night. They became a family heirloom. The brooch was usually worn by the women when they would go out for walks in their human form. The cloak was worn by the men. It was such until the eldest died, leaving the two mates to their home. The brooch and cloak were set aside with sentimental value and meant to be family heirlooms. Before her death, the eldest made a second brooch, one to be worn by the men and accompany the cloak. I am unsure which one you have with you right now."
"I have both, sir." Archer produced the second brooch from the pouch at his side.
"So you have. Unfortunate really. They were to be family heirlooms, but the children fled before this was mentioned to them. Well, two of them did. One was lost, taken still in the egg by Draconians. The other never saw light of day."
"I was told by the Silver, the female one, that 'one is meant for another in our line, and one is meant for me.' I guess I do not fully understand."
"Archer, how old are you?"
"Well, the Draconians do not really carry that concept, but I would guess near the early-twenties by your reckoning. Why?"
"Perhaps…." The Silver left it at that and turned. "I will have to get back to you. Rest for now. Dinner will be served soon. After that you will meet a few guests."
Archer watched as the Snowdragon disappeared down the corridor, leaving him alone. A feeling of slight annoyance coursed through him as he replayed the short conversation in his mind.
"Archer, come along and rest. You must be ready to impress the guests when they arrive."
Archer spun on one foot to face Cyrius. "Why, who is coming?"
"Well, like it or not you have found your way into the den of a highly respected dragon couple. Tonight's guests are members of the High Council, mainly intelligence, but a few from the military. All are important. I advise you to be on your best behavior, you will be judged and questioned. By the way, did you ever consider the possibility that perhaps you are a part of that family?" Cyrius walked up to Archer and tapped the brooch. Then without giving Archer a chance to respond he added: Well, just a thought. Come along.
Archer grumbled under his breath but followed along. How long have you been with the two dragons?
Not long, long enough to learn a few tricks here and there. They actually taught me to fly.
They are that good? Archer stopped walking, impressed.
Cyrius nodded and turned into a long hallway that branched from the main corridor. Are you tired?
Not especially. Why? Archer came up alongside to Cyrius and followed along at his side.
Well, if you are not, and if the Dragons are not resting, you could always ask one of them to teach you a few tricks. Most of it involves the eyes; well at least that is what I have been told. So, tell me this, Cyrius stopped and counted doorways before continuing. Where did you serve before you came here?
Defenses. Our first offensive was two nights ago. What about you? Where did you serve?
Cyrius recounted the doors again and stopped at the thirteenth. "NeitKorps." Cyrius looked over his shoulder and grinned at Archer. Surprised?
Archer stopped at the doorway for a brief moment. You are joking, right.
No. Come along, you must see this. Cyrius disappeared into the darkness beyond the door.
Archer shrugged and mumbled to himself before stepping over the threshold into the darkness. Hello? He jumped as the door shut behind him with a loud resonating boom.
"Drek a frieren, Archer. Telek nacit et nutum."
Wrong dialect. Archer searched the darkness for something, anything. He found it. Cyrius' blood red eye was smiling at him from near five yards away. Can't be…. Archer strained to see, wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him. It looked as if stripes of red and crimson were streaking Cyrius' body and glowing.
Sorry. Archer's train of thought was broken by Cyrius. There are no lights in here, yet. However, I do make one request: look up.
Archer looked up. Perfectly seen by his eyes, despite the darkness that shrouded the room, was a large mosaic. The scene portrayed was that of a Snowdragon curving under a plume of fire spouted by a massive black dragon. The tiles on the dragons themselves seemed more like scales, and the beasts seemed to be moving ever so slowly in space. The empty blue sky around them gave no depiction of time that either had passed or was yet to come. The tiles that made up the plume of fire seemed to be glowing with heat. The mosaic itself seemed to be giving off its own light.
Wondering if it were a dream, Archer slowly pulled away from the scene and looked at Cyrius. It dawned on him. The red glow came from the red dragon, which was hovering right over the black Draconian. Archer looked up again. The scene took him away to a battlefield far above the earth. The Silver's motions were fluid and graceful as it came up from under the fireball. The black dragon hissed loudly and dove at the Silver's back.
Well?
Archer was ripped from the fight. Torches were now lit and burning, lighting up the tiny room, which until now had seemed large. Irritated, Archer gazed upward again to catch a glimpse of the two dragons. To see who would win the fight. The mosaic was gone. A bare ceiling now hung over his head.
Where did it go? Archer strode up to Cyrius, who was grinning and leaning against the wall opposite the door.
Where did what go? That? Cyrius pointed up at a small, barely noticeable silver tile that was glinting in the torchlight.
What happened to the mosaic? Archer removed his cloak, unfurled his wings, and flew up to the tile to examine it. It was positioned right where the Snowdragon's back had been.
What mosaic? I was pointing out the glowing tile. Whenever there is no light the tile glows like a star. The first night I was here, that is what I mistook it for, a star.
Archer's mind was screaming for answers that were probably not coming for a while. He slowly dropped to the ground. Something crunched under his foot. He bent over and picked up a thin, flat rock. He turned it over and found himself looking into the bloodred eye of the black dragon. What do you make of this? He handed it over to Cyrius.
Cyrius studied it for a moment and looked up at Archer, a puzzled expression painted on his face. 'Tis an old flat stone. Why?
Archer took the tile. You do not see the eye?
No. I see an old, brown stone that is flat and thin. Probably chipped from the wall or ceiling.
Archer just shrugged and slid the tile into the pocket on the inside of his cloak. As he wrapped the cloak about him, he eyed Cyrius curiously. You really did not see the mosaic when the lights were out, did you.
No. Cyrius extinguished the torches one by one.
When the last torch had gone out, Archer glanced up in hopes of catching a last glimpse of the two dragons. All he could see was one silver tile glowing as bright as a star.
An hour later, Archer left Cyrius resting in the guest quarters and sought out the two Snowdragons. He found them ere long in the main entrance gazing out at the lands below. Archer came up beside Flare and looked out as well. At first glance, the forests that stretched out below were peaceful, but if one were to look out again one could see that small patches of the forest were burned and blackened. Small fires were scattered along the horizon. The war was coming closer.
"Archer, do you needed something?" Flare broke the silence but did not look away from the horizon.
"Yes, Cyrius took me to see the glowing tile, but I saw more than that. The entire ceiling was a mosaic that portrayed a scene. A Silver against a black dragon."
Flame looked over at him curiously. "You saw the mosaic?"
"Yes, I also found a tile on the ground, it had the black dragon's eye." He produced the tile and handed it over.
Flame held it with two talons and studied it intently. "It is the dragon's eye. However, that mosaic was destroyed long ago. How did you see it?"
"The room was dark and when I looked up it was there. After a while it felt like I was there inside of the mosaic."
"Who won?" Flare looked down at him. Her voice sounded hopeful.
Archer shook his head. "I cannot say, I did not see the end of it."
Flare nodded and looked over at Flame. A silent trade of words seemed to take place between the two for a short while until Flame looked down at Archer. "Go rest up. It is going to be a long night for you."
Archer nodded and bowed. Before he left, Flame stopped him and handed back the eye.
"Return this to the room before you go to rest."
Archer gave the two a curt nod, bowed again, and left the two, who had returned to watching the horizon.
CHAPTER IV
Night came sooner than expected when gray storm clouds filled the sky. Rain fell in sheets and found its way into the open-ceilinged room of Cyrius and Archer. Anything left uncovered was soon soaked. Archer chuckled slightly as the water ran down his face and onto the rock floor. Both of the Draconians quickly shed their cloaks and stowed them in a dry, sheltered place, allowing the rain to run off their quick-drying scales. Then, to pass the time, the two friends struck up torches, drew swords, and held friendly sparring matches.
By the time the guests arrived Cyrius was tending a small cut on his arm while Archer laughed apologetically at his side. They entered the main hall, now clad in their cloaks, still pushing each other playfully. Cyrius looked up at the guests and fell silent upon matching names with their appropriate faces.
"Archer, Cyrius, glad to see you in such high spirits. I trust you know who most of these guests are?" Flare grinned at the two companions.
Cyrius nodded, "Indeed some whether we like it or not. Sir Gilden, I did tell you we would meet again."
"Yes, you are lucky we are now on friendly terms." The Knight grinned uneasily, recognizing his old adversary.
"I consider myself so. Sirs Edward, Aarynden, Aleksandr, Yur'll, a pleasure to see you all again. The rest of you, however, I am unfamiliar with."
"Ah, friend Cyrius, those would be Lady Gilldomere, her knight for the evening, Sir Iglamore, the mistress Silvianna, and her husband Sir Gallan." Archer's eyes lit up under his hood. "A pleasure to meet you all, I am sure. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Archer Centrelli, and this is my friend and dear companion, Cyrius Centrelli. I do believe I speak for us both when I say that it is an honor to be in the same room as those who are capable to stand up to the likes of us."
Flare glanced over at Flame. "I told you they would already know each other well."
"Flame, you were just telling us a bit about these two, but never mentioned anything about their pasts. Just who are they, or were they?" Gallan's gaze drifted over to the two and studied them.
"Part of why I never told you who they were is because I do not even know that my self. When they arrived, they chose to leave their pasts behind. We never speak of it unless they start the conversation, and then they can finish it when they choose."
Lady Gilldomere spoke up. "Well, I would like to say that it is hard to sit in the same room as those who have hunted you."
"Milady, it is hard to live with those whom you have hunted and killed. None of us feels completely comfortable with this alliance. Despite this, we have agreed to join you. Please do realize we are just as nervous as you."
"Now you do realize that you two are not the only ones to have joined us in an odd alliance, there is one other, Myriad. He is at our Tryst'n fortress on the warfront." Gallan directed the statement at everyone in the room. "Myriad is a Baaz who joined a while ago, near three weeks. He is already in battle on our side. But I do not wish to speak of that, what I would like to know is what made you choose to leave your kind?"
"Perhaps some of us are capable of thinking on our own and realized a thing or two." Archer yawned, the sparring had tired him out.
Mistress Silvianna spoke up. "What urged you to join?"
"Well, for me it was the sense of seeing my past and knowing what my future held."
Archer thought a moment before speaking. "The death of someone close to me, whom I killed." He pulled the hood further over his head. "I am truly sorry, but I must excuse myself for a short while." He bowed quickly and walked out of the room.
Cyrius cast a glance at the two silvers.
"I would like an explanation for that." James glared at Cyrius. Cyrius did not respond, but rather left the silence to stand.
"Archer is a trusted friend. He does nothing without proper reason. Do not take offense to his actions. He has his reasons and I do not question them." Flare let the silence settle once more before she spoke again. "Now then, what else would you like to discuss?"
Gilldomere stood. "If you will excuse me," She started in the direction of Archer. "Tell me what I miss when I get back."
Iglamore watched her walk off after the Draconian, a slight look of concern crossing his face. "How much trust do you have in that one."
Cyrius looked to the two Silvers before answering. "Archer is a good friend. His word is stronger than that of any other person I have ever met,"
"You kill them all ere they have the chance to speak."
"Not true! Archer is here to change for the better. By my life I guarantee he will."
"And you?" Iglamore glared up at the Draconian. "Why are you here?"
"The same reasons. However, unlike my friend my past is a bit more bearable." Cyrius breathed out slowly and a thin wisp of smoke drifted from under the hood of his cloak. "Sir Iglamore, despite what you may be thinking, you are here for us. By us, I refer to Archer and myself. We control the conversation and we have the power to eject any of you from the meeting, forcefully if necessary."
"And the Silvers? They are the ones who invited us. They must have a say on the matter." Iglamore crossed his arms and took a step towards the Draconian.
"The Silvers are our overseers. They intervene only if they see cause to. Otherwise they are just listening to us." Cyrius wished his hood were not as low as it was, or Iglamore would learn how just wickedly a Draconian could glare at someone he despised.
Iglamore looked up to see the two dragons nod in affirmation of the Draconian's words and looked towards the far wall, in obvious agitation.
"Archer?" Lady Gilldomere found him in a room near the end of the hall. Light was cast from a single torch in the far corner, causing shadows to dance about the room and walls. Archer was in the center of the room gazing up at the ceiling. "Archer, I am sorry if-"
"You have no reason to be." He stood silent for a moment. "Answer me a question, if you will."
"Anything. Ask me anything." She came towards him and stood facing him.
"What do you know of the Callystrin Snowdragon family."
"During the Great War they were very involved. Never a second thought about helping on the front. They always gave good council and were so very kind."
"What about children. Did they have any?"
"O, yes. Four...well, there were to be four. One night one of the eggs was stolen. During the theft, a second was crushed. The stolen one was that of their only son. He was to be named Drysdin."
"What has become of the rest?"
"Well, the two sisters eventually left. One went over the sea while the second stayed in the Mirkilains, but further north."
"Any chance I could find them, or at least one of them?" Archer continued to gaze up at the ceiling.
"I could send a summons to the sister who is still here. Eleanor is her name."
"And the one who left?"
"Alyse."
"I killed them, you know, the two adults. What were there names?"
"Celeste and Stryker." She looked up at him. "Archer?"
"Yes?" He looked down from the ceiling.
"If I may say so, you do look like Celeste…."
"I wish you would not say that."
"Why not?"
"That may be part of why I am here."
"I am sorry for mentioning it." She paused. "Well, I must be returning to the meeting. I have no doubts that dear old James is waiting for me."
"Thank you, for your offer of help. Come, we will go back together."
As soon as they set foot in the main hall, James came to meet them. "Come along, Sariah, the meeting is still underway."
"I am truly sorry, but I have to return home now. I promised mother I would be back for dinner."
"Will you be leaving, James?" Archer inquired as he made his way towards the two Snowdragons.
"No, I was hoping to stay longer." He shot Archer a look.
"Quite alright. We were just planning on leaving." Silvianna and Gallan stood. "Michael and I can escort her home safely."
"Thank you. Well, James, perhaps I will see you to-morrow."
"With luck." James strode back to his seat.
The conversation went well into the night. The guests slowly drifted out one by one, Archer would escort each to the door while Cyrius would stay and entertain those whom had yet to leave. James was the last to excuse himself from the den. Archer saw him out.
Once they were near the main entrance and out of sight and earshot of the others, James came to a sudden halt and drove his knee into Archer's gut. He pinned the Draconian against the wall, drew a hidden dagger and pressed it against Archer's throat.
"Draconian, I do not know you, I do not like you, and I know you do not like me." He lifted the blade and pressed it against the side of Archer's face. "I guarantee you now, if you are not who you claim you will be I will kill you." He whipped the dagger down, leaving a streak of blood on Archer's face. As he disappeared into the night he yelled back, "I will be watching you."
Archer reached up to his face and wiped the blood away. You have no need to watch me, James, I am changed and need no one to tell me otherwise. He turned slowly, drew the hood over his face, and strode back towards the main hall.
CHAPTER V
Rain came and stayed the week through. One night in particular it was the sensation of cold water against his face that woke Archer from disturbing dreams. A quick glance at his surroundings quickly told him that Cyrius was gone, no doubt conversing with the Silvers. He slowly brought himself to a stance and stepped out into the main hallway, folding his wings as a cloak to help him stay warm. From down the hall he heard a soft clink, like that of metal against metal. He glanced down in the direction from whence it came. At the end of the hall, he could see something flicker, like torchlight. He began walking towards it.
As he neared it the torchlight faded and a soft blue glow took its place. Archer stepped into the room. His first sensation was that the room had no floor, walls, or ceiling. The blue glow came from a crystal in the center of the room, and the glow caused everything blend together. He took an unsteady step forward. The blue light faded and the crystal shone like daylight. Surrounding Archer were paintings and artwork of various other styles. Most of the paintings were landscapes, but one caught his eye. It had a single figure standing alone in a shaft of light. All around him were shadows that looked like they belonged to trees, but it was hard to tell. Archer studied it a moment before moving to the next. This one had a monstrous waterfall feeding a bright, sunlit lake. Surrounding the lake was a wide grassy clearing. Surrounding the clearing was an endless forest. The scene held him. He stepped closer to examine it. On the wooden frame was a silver plate that said "Pearl Lake fed by Blue Falls."
"Do you like it?"
Archer jumped and hissed, half out of habit; half out of being surprised.
Flare laughed. "Sorry to scare you like that."
Archer turned. Flare was standing behind him in her human form. Her light brown hair fell past her shoulders. Her face, which was well lit by the crystal's light, was fair, and her green eyes smiled pleasantly.
"Well, yes. I am quite impressed." He turned back to the painting. "Where is this?"
"Oh, the Pearl Lake and Blue Falls are in…." She let the sentence trail off and cocked her head to one side. "Did you hear that?"
"What?" Archer strained to listen while she ran to the entrance to the room. Not hearing it, he followed.
"There. I heard it again." She walked out into the hall.
"I don't hear-" A soft clang came from down the hall. A shout, faint but audible soon followed it. The shout was in Drakoník, the language he had been brought up in. "Oh, no." He ran to his room to fetch his swords.
Cyrius met him in the hallway and tossed him both blades, already drawn and joined. "The den is under attack. Come along."
In the main hall, the two both found their old troops. Cyrius' led by Pyre; Archer's by his old second in command, a Bozak named Berryll.
"Each man to his corps. Ready?"
Archer nodded. Neither had to wait long, however. No sooner had they entered the hall had the two commanders targeted out the two. Both made there way over, scimitars drawn and ready.
"Let them attack first."
Archer nodded, but did not to wait long. Berryll attacked as soon as he was in range. The scimitar arced level to Archer's midsection. The attack was easily stopped. Archer brought his second blade down at Berryll's open skull. The path of the blade was blocked.
"Be careful who you kill and how you kill them. You are no use to me dead." Cyrius pulled his sword back and resumed his fight with Pyre.
Archer brought both blades to a ready position and swung a low attack. The attack was deflected and Archer swung the second blade towards Berryll's mid-section. Berryll brought his own blade up surprisingly fast and blocked that attack as well. Archer only grinned to himself, spun with the momentum given by Berryll's block, took a step forward and buried the blade into the commander's back. Berryll fell, stunned. Archer caught another attack coming from behind in his peripheral vision and disconnected the two blades. He drove the freed blade out behind him at midlevel and laughed loudly as the attacker literally ran into the blade. He quickly freed both blades and looked frantically for Cyrius.
Cyrius ran every training session he had ever had through his head. There was a reason why Pyre was head of the Korps, and Cyrius was using all the skill he had to survive it. Everything was moving fast. Most everything Cyrius did was out of reflex and instinct. He knew if he paused to second-guess a movement, he would die. Off to his left another Draconian charged to attack him. Without a thought, Cyrius broke the attack with Pyre, swung out at the attacker, wounding him and putting him out of the fight. Pyre chuckled and took advantage of the distraction. He brought his own blade around at Cyrius. Cyrius saw the attack too late to block with his sword, and instead turned his shoulder to the blade. The cold steel bit into his arm and he hissed loudly. Though the blow was weak, it was effective in disabling Cyrius' sword arm. Pyre chuckled and brought his blade up for the deathblow.
The sound of metal against metal rang throughout the hall as Archer brought one of his blades in between Cyrius and Pyre. Archer continued through with his running charge and threw his weight into Pyre, sending the Draconian sprawling to the floor.
Fool. Only those who wish to die challenge me. Pyre picked himself up and attacked Archer with stunning speed.
Archer stepped back with each blow, keeping the blade in his right ready to defend against the next while the blade in his left stayed ready for an attack. Pyre suddenly lunged forward and made to stab Archer, who sidestepped and brought the left-hand blade around to meet Pyre's side. The blade hit home. The wounded Draconian let out a low hiss and vanished in a flurry of wings.
"Cyrius!" Archer ran and knelt beside his friend. "Are you alright?"
"I shall live." Cyrius glanced around him. "Oh, no." He pulled himself to his feet, with Archer's help. A slight sense of panic was slowly building in his mind as he realized that the entire force had cornered Flame in the arena.
"Need help?" Archer spun, bringing both blades to ready, and found himself facing James. He gave a nod and watched the knight run off towards the arena.
I do not trust him.
Cyrius nodded in agreement. Keep a careful eye on him.
Flame was already dead. The noise they had thought to be a battle was, in fact, a celebration. Members of the draconian horde were dancing about wildly, singing songs Archer had already forgotten, while climbing over the dead Snowdragon and driving their weapons into the scaly skin. Archer saw the sight and growled. He glanced over at James, who was frowning and shaking his head.
"This is not right, they were not-" He caught himself even as Archer reached out to grab him by the collar.
He pulled away and steeped back, only to run into Cyrius.
"You knew about the attack?" Archer drew a sword and fingered the sharp blade.
"You do not understand, I made a deal with them." He grinned. "They did not live up to their part of the bargain." He glanced over at Flame. "However, you will make a fine substitute."
He charged, drawing a concealed dagger from behind his back. Archer caught James by the wrist, stopping the dagger's advance, and buried his blade in the knight's gut.
"Answer me, what was the bargain?" James did not answer. "What did they say to you?"
"They said…." James stopped and laughed.
The laugh was cold and sent shivers coursing through Archer's body. He shook it off. "What did they say?" Archer leaned down closer to James.
"They were both mine." Then the knight slumped over, dead.
Archer let him fall and freed his blade. "Cyrius, find Flare. I will do something with the horde."
"There is a series of switches in the weapons room. Put them all up to activate all of the traps. The ones with red targets are lethal."
"I will remember that." Archer disappeared into the weapons room.
"Take care, friend." Cyrius ran off to find Flare.
When Archer came back out of the weapons room he had a quiver of arrows strapped to his side, the blades were sheathed, and he was gripping a torch and a longbow.
Pyre was fading, and he knew it. Silently, under his breath he cursed the two warriors. The Nightstalker and the Sivak would die, and he would be the one to see to it. He turned to face the dead Silver. Just as he was doing so, he saw something flash past his peripheral vision. He turned quickly, despite the protesting pain in his side. Something flashed past again, only this time the floor immediately behind Pyre vanished, as did all standing there. He turned to look into the pit but something flew down in front of his face. It was a flaming arrow. The silver arrow sunk into the chest of a stunned Bozak and the explosion that followed ensured that all in he pit were now dead. Another arrow flashed past his head. He followed it and watched as it sunk into a red, wooden target. Bright plumes of fire suddenly filled half of the arena floor. Explosions, screams, and shouts of warning filled the arena. Pyre heard a crack and looked up. A large wooden platform, well the size of half of the arena, was burning. Two flaming arrows had buried themselves in its underside. Pyre took to the air and flew for the entrance to the arena.
Archer cut the ropes suspending the platform and watched as it fell, killing and trapping all under it. Archer pulled his last arrow from the quiver and aimed at a red target in the far corner of the arena. The arrow flew true and sunk into the wood. With a loud roar, circular blades housed under the entire arena floor rose and spun, shredding all that were not capable of taking to the air. Archer then unfurled his wings and glided to the arena entrance, silently challenging any of the survivors to stop him. None did.
Cyrius found Flare in the room of the shining tile. A crimson pool covered the ground around her. He hurriedly turned her onto her back. The dagger wound was deep, but only fatal if left unattended. He breathed a quick sigh of relief. At least one should live. He removed his cloak and began to tear it into strips.
CHAPTER VI
In the days that followed, Cyrius tended to Flare while Archer worked to make the Arena a tomb. Seldom a word was passed by either of the three. The only sound that would break the silence was that of a stone falling against another. That alone was enough.
One week after the attack, halfway through the day, a low rumble filled the caverns and halls.
"Well, Archer will be done now." Cyrius looked over to Flare.
"Cyrius, I want you to do something. I will not approach Archer with this because his mind is set on another task already, and is thinking quite the opposite."
"Revenge." Cyrius nodded. "I know where the hideaway for my group is, and I will go if you like."
"Thank you, but do take this." She handed him a crystal. "The stone acts as a tracer and will help you find who you seek."
"Thank you." He took the crystal and placed it in the inside pocket of a dark blue cloak he had been given. It had once belonged to Flame, but not anymore.
"Good luck, Cyrius." She left the room.
"Archer," Flare came up behind the Sivak. "I wish to tell you this, and I cannot tell Cyrius, because he would not have wanted it so. I am leaving, going away to the lands of the Pearl Lake. Do take care."
Without waiting for him to respond, she ran down the hall toward the main entrance. By the time Archer reached the entrance to the cave, she was gone.
Cyrius adjusted his cloak as he came to the entrance of the den. He eyed Archer quizzically before making his presence known.
"Friend, I am leaving for a short while. Take care of things while I am gone."
"She left, Cyrius. You just missed her."
"What?" Cyrius ran outside of the cave and scanned the horizon. True to Archer's word, she was gone. "I did not think she would leave yet." His comment got a glance form Archer. "Well, I am leaving as well, do take care." He waved and began walking towards the east.
Archer watched him go and turned to return to the caverns when he saw a lone figure coming from the west.
"Archer!" It was Lady Gilldomere. She ran up to him. "Archer, I found out where one of the Callystrin sisters is staying. I sent a summons but it has gone unanswered. I fear she is gone."
"Well, if so she would not be the only one. Come, there is much you need to hear." Then he took her into the caverns and related the story that had just passed to her.