The Black Ankh
Duel
of Fates, Cont'd
by Laura Campbell, aka Shadow of Light Dragon
For a while I could only stare, the dread of telling Kra'lysie about the daemon-Shamino temporarily wiped from my mind. In my journeys I'd seen many dragons. Unfortunately, most of them had taken exception to my presence and tried to kill me, so the fact that there was a group of them crouched on the muddy grass outside the Deep Forest and none had so much as breathed a puff of flames in my direction was a novelty. With the exception of Kra'lysie, I'd never really seen dragons up close while they were still alive. Dracothraxus might count a bit there too, but I'd been too focussed on the inside of her tooth-lined maw to fully appreciate the rest of her.
A crowd of the curious were gathering in the trees behind me. There were even a few drakelings, and I could only wonder what was going through their minds.
"Recruiting?" I managed.
"Recruiting!" Kra'lysie repeated, looking proud with herself. "You know, like when you go off somewhere and ask other people to join you on your quest? That kind of thing."
"I know what recruiting is!"
"Then why did you say 'Recruiting?' like that?"
"I couldn't think of anything else to say!"
"How about 'Thank you'?"
The other dragons were watching me with varying expressions. Curiosity, disinterest, excitement… A green male with gold underwings looked openly amused. Another male, gold, observed the proceedings with no humour at all, but a kind of grim purpose.
"That's a liche," a glittering red female observed, blazing eyes scrutinising me down her snout.
"I explained her situation, Nightfire," Kra'lysie said mildly. "And as for the rest of the introductions, this is Goldenflame-" the golden male inclined his head, "-Tailrace-" the green scaled, gold winged male grinned, displaying an impressive array of teeth, "-Arkandor-" a second green male drew himself up, "-and Flameblight," a second red female puffed out her chest and swished her tail, narrowly avoiding splattering mud over us. "I tried to get another to come," Kra'lysie added, "but she said something about being in too many places at the same time already."
"Five additional dragons is more than I expected anyway," I said, more than a bit overcome. "Thank you. All of you. Your help means a lot to us. Forgive me, but I didn't realise the dragons of Britannia had any interest in the affairs of humans."
"Tir Mordreth," Goldenflame said bluntly, "concerns us all."It took a little while to get Kra'lysie alone. Now that her Britannian kin were here she'd seemed content to remain with them rather than return to the army proper in her human form. Some time after the introductions, however, she'd finally asked where Dupre was. Or, rather, demanded to know. In tones that indicated she wanted to show off her hard work to him, and possibly gloat.
I told her about the failed attempt on the Isle of the Avatar, which she listened to in a seething silence.
"What of the mezzin-thra and tril'kha?" she asked at the end.
"They were caught too," I said, resisting the urge to squirm uncomfortably. Her golden-eyed gaze was entirely too penetrating.
"She expected you," Kra'lysie said. "You have a spy."
"It's been taken care of. After a fashion…"
"Good. So when do we go on a rescue mission? I might not be able to roast anyone, but my draconic friends could make nice work of the Isle of the Avatar."
I sighed and took the plunge. "I think you should hear the rest. The spy was Shamino. But not the real Shamino."
The dragon-woman's eyes narrowed. "I don't remember seeing more than one 'Shamino'."
"Well… you've only met the one that wasn't him…"
"You mean," she said slowly, her face like stone, "the one that you assured me upon meeting in that cave was your friend?"
"I thought it was. I didn't know he was a daemon!"
She stared. Then, as expected, exploded. "You! Are! A! LICHE! Why didn't you look at him! Kemah-thra!"
I winced as her voice rose. "There's more."
That silenced her for the moment. Her next words were a growl. "Tell me."
By the end of my recitation of the disastrous happenings in her absence, she was shaking her head and regarding me with cold incredulity. "Well, Avatar. You've really screwed Britannia this time."
"That's funny," I retorted, suddenly annoyed. "I kind of remember a daemon being involved."
"A daemon you could have recognised if you'd have looked at it in the last… how many months has it been?"
"And why would I have recognised it? Because I'm a liche?" I brandished the bracer at her. "Should I remind you whose race is responsible for that?"
We glared at each other for a minute, and I averted my gaze first.
"Yeah," I muttered, staring off at the encampment of Britannians and outworlders, all of whom may well have followed me here just to die. All my eggs in one basket… just like Kra'lysie herself had warned me. "I screwed up big time."
"Might I suggest something?" Kra'lysie said. Her tone wasn't entirely forgiving, but it wasn't condemning either. She pointed at the Crown I was still carrying. "If the point of that thing is to offer some protection, perhaps it would be a good idea if someone put it on."
I blinked. "Oh…"
"It doesn't have to be you if you're too shy," she added testily, after a couple of minutes of watching my internal struggle. "I just think that sooner rather than later is better, all living things considered."
"I've done it before," I said, both for her information and my own reassurance. Lifting the glittering thing in both hands, I settled it across my brow.
Behind me, a distant-sounding but amused voice said, "I thought thou said thou hadst no wish to be the Lady of Britannia, Elora."
I spun, almost snatching the Crown from my head. "Rich—"
"Nay, Elora, put it back on!" The late king chuckled. "It's not as though I can make use of it right now."
"Something I plan to remedy soon," I said.
Kra'lysie was staring at the shade of Arthalan. "Drakrasath!" she said at last, hoarsely, and bowed her head in obvious supplication.
"Friend of yours?" I asked, raising a brow.
Arthalan only smiled. "Richard," she said, "thou shouldst get thy body back as soon as possible. Thine absence isn't doing Britannia any favours…"
"I'll get it. Er. You." I glanced north. "You might want to drift over to the Shrine of Justice so we can do the Resurrection right away. And someone find Lord Draxinusom. I think he can handle the spell-casting part."
The Shrine of Spirituality resembled a morgue.
Bodies, at least fifty of them, were piled around the pedestal. Not arranged in any respectful fashion, no. They'd been dumped. There was Jaana, Mariah… various others I'd only seen around the Isle of Fire. Seen and never known. Others were there I didn't recognise at all.
There was no sign of Lord British's body.
I searched carefully, the task of inspecting each dead face not one that I enjoyed for a second. When I was sure, I transported myself and the dead back to the Shrine of Justice, where I was greeted by the disbelieving faces of Julia, Kra'lysie, Richard, Arthalan and Draxinusom.
"She was using the place as a damned meat locker," I told them, scowling. "And I couldn't find your body, milord… this is all of them. Maybe she saw it coming."
"Thou didst not tell the spy, didst thou?" Julia suggested.
I thought back and shook my head. "I don't think so."
"Arcadion knew," Richard said softly. "Perhaps he told her."
Kra'lysie muttered something about daemons in general as I shrugged and sighed. "At least we can get Jaana, Mariah and these others back on their feet. I'll send for some more healers so Drax doesn't have to—" I paused as something south caught my eye. Someone atop a drakeling was running fast towards us, shouting words we were too far away to hear. "It's Katrina."
"Not more bad news, I hope," Julia said under her breath.
"The Isle of Fire!" Katrina shouted as the drakeling pounded closer, tearing up grass and clods of earth with its hind claws. "The mages say there are people on the Isle of Fire! They just appeared a few minutes ago." The drakeling drew to a halt nearby, hissing something urgently. "I didn't see it myself so I don't know who's there, but Jae'tar and that big cat were with them! So were Bishop and several drakelings!"
"How did—" Julia began, but stopped and rolled her eyes at my sudden grin. "What didst thou do?"
"Remember that recall orb you gave me when the Isle of Fire surfaced, milord?" I asked Richard. "I gave that to Jae'tar. I meant her to use it so she and Swift could escape, but it seems as though they must have taken some passengers."
"There are hundreds of them, Elora," Katrina said. She slid from the drakeling's saddle. "What if Mellorin goes after them? They're unarmed."
The drakeling chittered something that I didn't understand, but thought I could guess the meaning of. "If they have drakelings and Bishop with them, they're not defenceless," I said, and the creature clicked proudly.
"I could carry you there, Avatar," Kra'lysie said. "Between me and the aeth'raesh'al we could have them all here in less than ten minutes."
I frowned thoughtfully.
"It could be a trap," Lord British said.
"It's not."
The ghost furrowed his pale brows. "How canst thou be sure, Avatar?"
I blinked. "Sure of what? I didn't say—"
The drakeling snarled.
Mellorin leaned against the crumbling pedestal of the shrine, her arms folded. Before any of us could do more than put hands to weapons, she said, "It's not a trap. I let them go. Of course, I didn't know they'd be able to escape the Isle of the Avatar so easily… I'd intended for them to slow the daemons down." She shook her head. "Some things just don't go as planned…"
"You just came here to talk, did you?" I said quietly, moving to put myself between her and my companions.
"No." My double's eyes roved over the group and the bodies lined on the ground, where Lord Draxinusom was putting his magic to the task of some Resurrections. "It's all gone a bit… pear-shaped, actually. A daemon wasn't meant to get its hands on the Crown of the Liche King. That's… not good, apparently."
"Not good for whom?"
"Anyone. I know you were only concerned about the Armageddon spell," she added to me. "You shouldn't be. Neither the Guardian nor the daemons are interested in a dead world. It's the second incantation you should be more concerned about."
I raised a brow. "Are we on the same side now?" but Lord British murmured, "Let her speak, Avatar."
Mellorin looked at the ghost of the king. "The second spell raises the dead, but not to life. To undeath. The daemons have your body, Richard, and they plan to start with it. Can you guess why?"
It was Arthalan's ghost who said, "The land and the king are one."
"But that's not entirely true of Britannia," I put in. "The Avatar is also a part of the land."
A thin smile stretched Mellorin's lips. "Yes. They'll be coming for us next. They already tried to make a grab for me, actually, but I escaped."
"And came running to us for help?" I snorted. "Don't you have an army? Couldn't you have used it to kill the daemons?"
"Well… do you remember how good that illusion of Shamino was? It's imitating me now." When I didn't come with anything new to say, Mellorin pressed on. "Once Lord British is undead and under their thrall, they plan to catch you and me and force us back into one being. Whichever way it goes, we'll share the same fate as Richard. Once he and we are undead, Britannia will belong to them."
"What of the people?" Katrina asked.
Arcadion spoke up for the first time, from the scabbard across Mellorin's back. "I imagine most will be left alive. Daemons need the living… to feed. Britannia will be one big breeding and feeding ground."
The drakeling hissed softly, fangs bared.
Mellorin unsheathed the Blacksword and reversed it, offering me the hilt. "If you disbelieve anything I've said, ask him yourself."
I did so, and Arcadion verified her words.
"If you attack the Isle of the Avatar now, you might be able to save Lord British," Mellorin went on. "The Atarkan armies stand between you and the Shrine of the Codex, so you'll have to move fast."
"How long will the ritual take?" Lord British asked.
"No daemon has ever cast it," Arcadion said. "But what will delay the one with the crown is ensuring no other daemons are close enough to profit from its powers when he puts it on. They have broken from the Guardian, and they do not trust each other.
"Know this, Avatar," the daemon continued. "Britannia—Sosaria, has gone through Armageddon in its ancient past and, in time, it recovered. But that was before it had you and British. Your lives, your deaths… your undeaths, are intertwined. And the undeath my kind plan to invoke upon you and your world cannot be undone.
"Only ended."
-TBC-
