Big thanks to Annbe11 and XxHikenNoHitaloxX for some recent brainwaves and insight.
Chapter Five
The Yawning Maw
Being the chosen leader of the conspiracy against God Emperor Shabarra was far from fun.
Though Lina was determined to see their plans through, if only so that Gavenus would not have died in vain, she knew that theirs was a difficult task. So many lives now lay in her hands, at risk with every order she gave.
Their task was easier now that Kashurra was spymaster of the Imperium, but if they exposed themselves he would have to act, if only to preserve his own life. Without Kashurra they had no chance of success. If he failed to act against an obvious enemy to the God Emperor, his life would be forfeit.
Night had fallen over Rasolir, and Kashurra had failed to attend this meeting. Nobody was too surprised. He could hardly go sneaking off whenever he wanted to. Though he seemed to have a knack for moving around unnoticed, it was still a massive risk for him. All it would take was a demand from Shabarra, and the runner he sent realising that Kashurra was missing from the palace.
That, and he was a busy man. More so than ever before.
Lina longed to act, but the time was not right. She understood that this must have been frustrating for Gavenus too, aching to save the Imperium from its despotic ruler, yet unable to to do anything permanent. So they had skulked around in the shadows, gathering allies and resources, trying to make opportunities.
But it would not be long now.
'On the last count, there were eighty-seven mercenaries in my hideout.' The Wraith was saying. 'All are armed and ready for battle. As agreed, half of their sum has been paid in advance. They also want assurances that their families will receive the rest if they are killed.'
'We'll do what we can.' Marsian muttered. The trouble was that Gavenus had been the richest of them, and with him gone their collective coffers were suffering. The Wraith had been trying to make up for it. She really did want that second chance, that opportunity to lead a more honest life, and so she put her ill-gotten gains to use by hiring mercenaries and providing funds for the rebellion. She had also become their de-facto spymaster of sorts, since she had numerous loyal agents spread throughout the city.
Many of them were spreading discord and encouraging people to stand up against Shabarra. Though it was a risk which could end up with the blood of innocents on their hands, it was worth trying. The more people they could turn against Shabarra, the better their chances of winning.
Garrisan and his gladiators were in the most immediate danger, but Lina's talk had galvanised his resolve. The spectators in the arena had never respected the former Commander of the Sun Guard more. He still acted like a professional, but he had become known as "Garrisan the Unstoppable", his old moniker of "Garrisan the Disgraced" all but forgotten.
The plague was starting to relinquish its hold on the slums, yet the people there were no happier. Lina could not blame them, and the Wraith's agents had encouraged further dissent. Shabarra had done nothing to ease their suffering. If anything, he had tried to make it worse.
Kashurra was still trying to find out what the God Emperor had planned, for he was up to something which could only be terrible. But it had to be the only secret which Shabarra was keeping well, and that worried all of them.
Everybody knew about the secret dealings he had with the slavers. Everybody knew about his habit of taking advantage of the palace servants, making their lives working for him all the more awful. Whatever it was that he intended, it had to be significant for him to be keeping it so well concealed.
Marsian waited until after the Wraith finished reporting on her progress before speaking. It was considerable, and Lina was impressed. The Wraith had been reluctant to join them at first, now she had become one of their best allies.
'There is also another risk.' The Legate looked graver than usual. 'I have heard that Shabarra plans to recall the Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Fifteen, Sixteenth and Seventeenth Legions to Isirios. If he does, they will be within a day's march of Rasolir.'
That was more than unfortunate. That was dire news.
Kashurra had done his best to ensure that only Marsian's Legions, the Ninth, Tenth and Eleventh, would be within marching distance of Rasolir. The plan had been for them to move in once the rebellion started, and they would make Shabarra's escape impossible and then help the City Watch to keep order when he was deposed.
Having six other Legions involved had not been part of the plan, and nobody could guarantee how they would act when chaos ensued. It did not help that many of the men in the Fourth, Fifth and Sixth Legions were veterans of the bloody Northern Expansion Campaigns. They might not have been as well rested as Marsian's troops, but they were hardened soldiers who had proved themselves fighting Ursa tribes.
Shabarra had to be aware of the growing dissent, and worried about it, to recall six Legions to the military outpost of Isirios. If a rebellion began, they would no doubt be ordered to end it with violence.
'Do you know the Legates in charge?' Lina asked.
'Loronos and Patrodis.' Marsian nodded. 'It's… difficult to say how they will act. I don't know either of them well. Loronos is more experienced than Patrodis, who has only been a Legate for two years. That's not to say that Patrodis is a fresh-faced recruit. He has seen plenty of combat. But they are both loyal to the Imperium.'
'Loyalty to the Imperium and loyalty to Shabarra can be two different matters.' Lina stated, thinking that she sounded a little bit like Gavenus, or maybe Kashurra. 'Is it worth the risk of trying to contact them? Could you find out how they feel about Shabarra?'
'I think that is too risky.' Marsian answered grimly. 'All it would take is a few words overheard, and we could be undone. Soldiers gossip. I know I can trust mine not to talk about this, but even I have told them as little as possible.'
'We can't just leave six Legions out of our plans!' the Wraith protested. 'If they side with Shabarra, the rebellion will become a slaughter. Together, they outnumber your soldiers and the City Watch. The civilians won't stand a chance, and at that point, Shabarra won't hesitate to kill them.'
Marsian sighed and lowered his head. The mounting tension was getting to all of them. 'And here I was thinking that this would be easy.' Marsian muttered dryly. 'I can try to speak to the Legates, but I cannot risk breathing even a word of the rebellion to them yet, not until I know how they feel about our esteemed God Emperor.'
'Could Shabarra know about us?' one of the Senators asked fearfully. 'Maybe that's why the Legions are here? He caught Gavenus. He could be ready to snatch the rest of us!'
'Calm down!' Lina ordered. 'If Shabarra knew about us, his men would have already kicked down the doors and dragged us off to be executed. No, this is something else. Kashurra would have warned us if Shabarra was after us.'
At Janulus was no longer a problem. His various body parts were still pinned up around various parts of Rasolir. As usual, the head was stuck on a spike above the Sunrise Gates to watch the sun with dead eyes every day. That seemed to be one of Shabarra's favourite decrees.
'Is it part of this plan of Shabarra's Kashurra warned us of?'
'Again, I think he'd have warned us.' Lina said. 'That said… Shabarra isn't subtle.'
'But he is ambitious.' the Wraith noted. 'No, this seems too obvious, even by Shabarra's standards. I think this is down to his paranoia.'
Lina nodded. 'Whatever happens, we must remain ready to act at a moment's notice. Wraith, are your agents and the mercenaries prepared?'
'Yes.' the Wraith's eyes were steely. 'We can secure the tunnels as soon as the word is given. What is the word?'
Lina smirked. 'Firestorm.'
The Wraith chuckled. 'You and your pyromania, Slayer.'
'Can you hear me?'
The voice was a surprise, a distant sound conveyed into thought. Sleep gave way to waking and all was confused. The shape of an eye came to mind, bright and golden, shining in the firmament.
'Can you hear me? You keep speaking to me. Can I speak to you? I need answers. Please.'
The voice was plaintive, almost childlike. Yet the accompanying image in mind was of a woman. She had a pretty, innocent, oval-shaped face. Her large eyes were a pale brown in hue, and her hair, pulled back into a messy, tufty tail, was auburn.
It was her. The wurm-forged. The mute handmaiden with the blood of a radiant dragon mingled in her veins.
Marci.
'Who are you? I keep hearing your voice in my head. Can you tell me who you are?'
No. That would not do. That could not be known, not yet.
'Please answer! I need to know the truth. I need to know what I am.'
She was pleading. In between the words, there were jumbled thoughts entangled and tumbling through her mind. Distress and worry churned in her heart.
She worried about the one she was sworn to protect, Mirana, exiled heir to the Solar Throne of the Helio Imperium and former Princess of the Sun, disgraced Princess of the Moon, her closest friend, a sister in all but blood. She fretted about the struggles and fate of the man she was growing ever closer to, Davion, the former Dragon Knight now harbouring the soul of the Eldwurm Slyrak, the embodiment of fire. She even worried about their elven guide, Fymryn, and their temporary allies, Eserren and Caewyn, and the loyal night-beast, Sagan.
Her concern for them was touching, truly. But answers now could be detrimental.
'I've been told something. I've been told that I have a dragon's blood. Is it true? Am I wurm-forged?'
So she knew about that now. It had only been a matter of time, though the timing of that revelation had not been anticipated. Still, all was not lost. Perhaps it would be better now that she knew. She could perhaps figure out how to master the power in her draconic blood.
But a response was still not an option. It could ruin everything.
'Please! Can you at least tell me who my real parents were? Are they still alive? Can you tell me why they left me? Please?'
Her thoughts were transformed into words and sound, and the sound of her mental voice was as it had been during childhood. She had no idea what her voice as an adult would sound like. She sounded high-pitched and tremulous, with a musical lilt trailing off her words. Her accent was still an Imperium one, a Rasolir slum-rat's accent.
The plea in her words made the urge to answer so much harder to resist. The desire was strong, if only to tell her that she was not alone, that she was being watched over, that she had a purpose, that she meant so much.
She deserved to know the truth. She deserved to know everything.
But now was not the right time. Telling her now could be the undoing of everything. It could mean the end of all things.
Silence lingered. Disappointment tinged the connection, disappointment and sadness.
'Please.'
The word hung there, quiet, imploring, sad. It was almost a sob.
It hurt.
No answers could be given though, no matter how painful withholding them might be. No, not yet. If she survived, perhaps she would learn the truth.
Realising that no answers were coming, Marci withdrew.
Sadness lingered, and it was not entirely hers.
Marci was turning the amulet in her fingers as they continued. Mirana could see the disappointment and sadness apparent on her face, and she guessed that it had something to do with what Slyrak had revealed. Though this was mostly true, she did not know that Marci had been trying to make a connection with the "voice" she had heard previously.
With no responses forthcoming, Marci assumed that the "voice" could not hear her. Perhaps it could only communicate with her at certain times. Or, and this seemed more likely to her, she simply could not speak to it. For whatever reason, it could not hear her.
The mood had been extremely subdued that morning, and for good reason. Nobody really knew what to say now.
Though she was stubbornly carrying on, Marci was still reeling from the truth of her strange power and her family.
Eserren and Caewyn were trying to process the loss of Steelpoint Vigil. That said, despite the loss of so many Dragon Knights and the place they had called home, they were coping well. Eserren was tough, and she knew that Terrorblade and Vylgranox had to be stopped. Her mourning could wait.
Caewyn seemed to be of a similar mind, and drew from her surrogate mother's resolve. Her optimism and cheer could not be suppressed for long.
Mirana was feeling worse than useless at the moment, stuck atop Sagan, slowing everybody down even with a Demon with plans to ruin the world on the loose.
She could still work her bow from Sagan's saddle. Just. But she had dwelling on the fight against Kaden and saw where she had gone wrong.
If Marci had been in her position, she would have dodged and counter-attacked. But Mirana's skill in close combat was meagre. She could handle a sword, but was nowhere near as proficient as Davion was. Even Fymryn could handle herself better in a scrap. She was far too used to letting Marci handle enemies face-to-face.
Mirana sighed. Marci was a patient teacher, but hand-to-hand combat did not come naturally to her. She'd picked up a few basics from Marci, but little else. Between fleeing the Imperium and serving Selemene, she'd had little time to learn defensive arts from her handmaiden, and Marci had been given duties of her own to see to. Granted, Mirana had honed her skill with the bow, but little else.
And though Mirana hid it, she was more vulnerable than she let on. Like Marci, she had been deeply traumatised by the Bloody Dance and their flight from their home. She had been trained to hide her hurt. An Empress who showed weakness would not rule for long.
So she hid her pain as best she could, only revealing it in a few moments of vulnerability, only really when Marci was around to comfort her. But she did not want to worry Marci, and so she kept as much of her hurt hidden away as possible.
And she had to keep her true feelings hidden away too.
Marci was currently leading Sagan by his reins, eyes ranging here and there.
Mirana wanted to hug her again, as awkward as that would be with her injured leg. She had to wonder how she could carry on after everything she had just been through. It wasn't as if she had no choice. Nothing was stopping her from simply running away apart from her own stubborn will and her devotion.
After much debate, they had decided to press on to the sage's tower. It was on the way to Dragon Keep, and perhaps the sage could help them too. Fymryn had mentioned strange artefacts in his tower. Maybe they could be of use.
Fymryn was growing increasingly worried. She was more distant now, preoccupied with some fear she would not share with them. Caewyn—being, as she put it, "an interfering busybody"—kept trying to talk to Fymryn and raise her spirits. She'd even been asking Fymryn to teach her elvish.
Mirana watched them, her doubts growing ever more troublesome. Fymryn was supposed to be an enemy of Selemene, yet Mirana had come to see her as a friend. Fymryn had fought to protect them more than once. And Caewyn had apparently lost her family and home to the Dark Moon Order.
Mirana sighed and looked away. Her eyes feel upon Davion, leading the horse which had been Caewyn's. He happened to glance at Marci. She caught his eye they both smiled. Though she was still full of doubt and worry, Davion's smile lifted Marci's heart.
There was something more than just friendliness in those smiles, and Mirana wondered about that. She felt briefly envious. It was there in the look Marci had given Davion more than once, a look Mirana would have once been delighted to receive herself.
She still wanted that.
Mirana forced that thought away. She was Selemene's chosen. She was the Princess of the Moon. Nothing could come between her and Selemene. Nothing.
Her gaze fell upon Caewyn again, who had managed to coax a smile out of Fymryn. She couldn't quite manage the accent when speaking elvish, it sounded much too exaggerated.
Perhaps the Dark Moon soldiers Eserren had been forced to kill had been renegades. Yes, that could be right. They might even have been deserters.
The horses stopped and whinnied, tossing their manes, sensing something the others could not. Sagan halted and crouched, growling. Weapons were readied and eyes ranged between the trees.
'See anything?' Davion whispered.
'Nothing.' Eserren responded. 'Is it Vylgranox?'
'Not close enough.'
Mirana looked round, an arrow nocked, and happened to see it first.
At first, she thought that she was seeing things. The tree she was gazing upon seemed to be moving.
It was when something unfolded itself from the trunk, a double-tipped stinger angled towards Eserren's horse, that she realised that what she saw was all too real: a manticore.
Mirana loosed her arrow, a task made difficult by her position. The arrow struck too late, for the creature had already jabbed the stinger into Eserren's gelding.
Eserren swung her bardiche, cutting the manticore in half. It was too late for her horse, which was now writhing on the ground, its screams turning into weak gurgles as the manticore's venom liquefied its insides.
They had wandered into an ambush! There were more of them all around. Everywhere Mirana looked, a perfectly camouflaged manticore revealed itself. An overlarge thorax filled with potent poison bulged behind each spiny body. Four legs tipped with barbed claws and too many joints skittered across bark. Two arms equipped with strong pincers reached out and snapped at the air. Spider-like heads with myriad black eyes and toothy mandibles swivelled in search of prey.
Marci automatically moved to defend Mirana, her fists raised and her feet apart. A manticore skittered towards her, pincers snapping. Before Mirana could loose an arrow, Marci flicked her dagger straight into its head. The second lost one of its forelimbs to an axe-kick, and Marci finished it off by spinning and driving her foot into its repulsive head, squashing it into a gooey mess of yellowish fluid.
Eserren was knocked prone by one of them. But she was far from defenceless. She used the sky dragon scales in her armour to blast it backwards and ejected the glowing white shard from her gauntlet. She drove the shard into the manticore's head, then seized her bardiche and sliced another one in half.
Davion and Fymryn were working together to protect Caewyn. Davion used the reach of his greatsword to swipe off pincers and legs. Fymryn darted in and out, ducking under stingers and jumping over claws, stabbing at anything exposed. Caewyn placed bolts precisely, her reloads swift and calm.
Sagan turned at Mirana's command and she loosed arrows at whatever she could.
Marci whistled urgently, an edge of panic in the sound.
Mirana turned Sagan in time to see a manticore rushing at her. Mirana quickly loosed her arrow. Selemene must have blessed her aim, for the arrow struck the manticore in one of its eyes, killing it instantly.
Mirana spotted a second as it advanced on Marci, who had been too preoccupied with warning Mirana. 'Marci! Duck!'
The warning was a little late, but it saved Marci's life. Had she not ducked then and there, the pincer would have taken her head off. The second swept towards her, too late to seize her, but it struck her in the back and she fell.
Marci turned to see the manticore preparing to seize her. She tried to summon her power, but she still had no idea how to do it.
The arrow struck it in the head. Marci stared as it reeled, then scrambled away before it could land on her. She spared Mirana a grateful nod.
Davion hacked the last one down from its tree before it could sting him. The viscous blood of the giant insects was soaking into the ground, along with the blood and liquefied internals of Eserren's horse. Its hide as starting to grow slack and fluid too.
Mirana saw no other manticores around them. She supposed that they had been lucky. Though they had been rare in the Nightsilver Woods, she had heard of more than one patrol being wiped out after wandering into even a small group of manticores.
Caewyn had a pair of deep cuts on her arm, a parting gift from one of the manticores. Nobody needed to ask if she had been stung. If she had been, she would be far beyond any hope of help now.
'Damn things,' Davion muttered as he wiped his sword clean. 'Just our luck to run into manticores.'
Eserren was dragging what she could away from her dead horse. Mirana suppressed a groan, and not just because of the slowly dissolving corpse. With one of the horses gone, they would be even slower.
If only Kaden hadn't broken her leg! If she had been faster, they could have avoided this. They would not have attempted the detour to Trestaine and they might even have found the sage's tower by now.
Mirana felt Marci's hand on her knee. Marci was looking up at her, clearly grateful. She indicated that she was impressed with Mirana's aim. Mirana felt a smile slowly spread across her face as Marci smiled at her.
She loved that smile.
'Marci?' Eserren called. 'Can you help with this? We're going to load as much as we can onto the other horse. The rest we will have to carry on our backs.'
Mirana nodded to Marci, who joined Eserren in salvaging as much gear as they could. She was grateful to Eserren for accepting what Marci was. She was unlike the other Dragon Knights in that she judged Marci and Davion by their deeds rather than their draconic issues.
For her part, Mirana still saw Marci as her dearest friend. The only difference was that she now knew why she was so strong. It was shame she had more questions than answers, many of them deeply troubling.
'Mirana?' Davion had approached, and had noticed her faraway look. 'What is it?'
Mirana sighed. 'I'm just thinking.' she murmured slowly. A thought occurred to her and she looked round at him. Under the womanising and drinking, he was a good man. Mirana could see the warmth and kindness in his dark eyes. More and more, she understood why Marci so admired him. 'Can I ask a favour of you, Davion?'
'Sure.' Davion leant his sword against his shoulder. 'Go ahead.'
'Marci has tried to teach me how to fight as she does. She's patient, but I'm just… well, she's much better than I am.'
'We all have to start somewhere.'
'Yes, but unarmed combat is beyond me.'
'I'd have thought that using a bow would have made you strong.'
Mirana glanced at her weapon, the blessed recurve bow of white wood and silver gifted to her on Selemene's behalf. 'The bows we use in the Nightsilver Woods are much easier to handle than most, and this one was blessed by Selemene Herself.' she explained quietly, little doubts nagging in the back of her mind. 'Marci has taught me a few basics, but I'm still a liability when someone attacks me directly.'
'You're too hard on yourself, Mirana.'
'It's true, though. I was wondering if you could teach me a little about swordplay, once my leg is mended.'
Davion shrugged. 'I can do that. Might be best to find some blunted swords first though. I wouldn't want to anger Marci.'
Mirana chuckled. 'Fair enough.'
Marci trotted over and took the reins. Mirana would be the only one riding now, as the chestnut horse was now carrying too much gear to accommodate a rider. Eserren continued to lead, if only because she and Caewyn knew this region better than the rest of them combined.
Mirana glanced back at the dead manticores, all too aware of how much worse the ambush could have been. When people wandered into a manticore nest, it was unusual for there to be any survivors.
Marci started to whistle quietly as she walked, probably distracting herself from troubling thoughts. Mirana hummed with her. Marci glanced at her, smiling once again.
That smile always lifted her heart, even when all else seemed lost. Marci had been the one who had kept her going during that year-long flight from the Imperium, continuing on out of devotion to Mirana and pure stubbornness.
Mirana resolved then and there to be stronger from now on. Marci should not have to take all of the risks for her sake, and nor would she if Mirana could help it.
The pit opened before them with little warning, a gaping maw carved out of the earth on the edge of the forest. It was a good thing Eserren and Caewyn knew of it, otherwise they might have blundered into it heedlessly.
Marci gasped at the sight of it. She had seen quarries before, but never one such as this. If a god had reached down and scooped up a handful of earth, they could not have made a much wider pit.
'The Yawning Maw.' Caewyn announced brightly, as if she was showing them the wondrous sights of some mythical land. 'Most of Trestaine and the castles of Kestren were built using stone from this quarry. The wizards believe that it can be seen from the loftiest heights of the sky.'
The stone within was as grey and featureless as Trestaine had been, just less regular in shape. Old scaffolds clung to the walls, mostly rotted and unstable. There were several black holes around the perimeter of the pit, tunnels leading underground.
Caewyn shrugged. 'I think it's a bit unsightly, but it is still worth seeing, don't you think?'
'It's memorable.' Fymryn muttered. 'They could have at least removed the mining equipment. Or are they still using it?'
'No.' Eserren answered simply. 'It's been abandoned for over forty years now.'
'Why hasn't it flooded?'
'The place is riddled with tunnels. Some of them must lead to waterways.'
Davion rubbed his forehead, which was throbbing dully. There was also a strange cadence there too now, a random rhythm in the song which agitated Slyrak. With the warbler still working, albeit feebly, the Eldwurm's grumbling was quiet and dim. 'We shouldn't stay here. This is the sort of place an earth dragon would nest.'
'It is.' Eserren nodded. 'But I doubt there will be one here right now.'
Marci caught her eye and raised an eyebrow.
'We'd know by now.' Eserren told her. 'If there was one here, it would have either tried to scare us off or attacked us.'
'There is something here.' Davion muttered, now pressing his knuckles against his forehead. 'A dragon, but I don't know what kind.'
Caewyn sniffed and strained her ears. 'The warbler should confuse it. I hope.'
'That's… not very reassuring, Caewyn.' Mirana noted dryly.
'The warbler should confuse it. I'm fairly certain it will.' Caewyn plastered a hopeful smile across her face.
Mirana did not bother to say anything. If the warbler failed completely, Vylgranox would find it much easier to locate them. If he found them here, it would only go poorly for them.
'We're not going down there, are we?' Fymryn asked, an edge of fear in her voice. Nobody could blame her for her apprehension. There was something forbidding about this place, and if Davion was right there was a dragon of some sort down there.
'No.' Eserren gestured with her bardiche, pointing out a narrow path along the rim of the pit, running parallel to a sheer wall of earth and exposed tree roots. 'We're going this way.'
Sagan was sure-footed, and he had his claws. Nevertheless, it was going to be risky.
'I'll go first.' Eserren announced. 'Follow behind in single file and step lightly. The ground may be unstable in places.'
'Shh!' Davion held up a hand. He was gazing up at the sky. 'There's something up there.'
They all gazed up at the oppressively grey sky. Nobody moved, except to reach for weapons if they were not already in hand. Davion had only seen the briefest of movements amongst the grim clouds. He was hoping that it was just a wildwing. If it was a dragon, it would hopefully be a sky dragon.
But it was neither. In truth, he would have welcomed the sight of a fire or ionic dragon instead of what they saw.
High above, his iron grey scales almost blending into the clouds, Vylgranox swept across the sky. The failing warbler was not enough to hide them now. Though he did not know exactly where they were, he had made a decent guess. If they stayed up here, they would be spotted for certain.
Eserren had not seen Vylgranox destroy Weiß Wache, but the destruction of Steelpoint Vigil had shown her how powerful the mythical arbiter of the Eldwurms was. Whatever kind of dragon was hiding down in the quarry, they would be better off taking their chances with it instead of Vylgranox.
'Come on,' Davion waved them forwards. 'We've no chance out in the open, but he can't follow us into the tunnels.'
That was one advantage they held over the Eldwurm. He was simply too big to fit down any of the tunnels, and his acidic miasma could only reach so far.
The slope wound its way down the sheer circular face of the pit, and they ducked into the first tunnel they found.
They heard Vylgranox screech overhead and Davion saw him swooping lower. He must have seen them. 'Inside! Don't stop!'
Marci helped Mirana down off Sagan's back and practically carried her into the darkness.
There was a draft coming from the entrance, but once they had made their way inside it quickly became impossible to see. Eserren ejected the shard from her gauntlet, casting white light around them. It only illuminated a few feet, but they ran on regardless.
The dark tunnel led downwards, then up a little, then back down. Davion did not bother to count the turns, caring only to escape from Vylgranox.
As they ran onwards under the crushing weight above, Davion heard Vylgranox hissing. The echoes made him sound closer than he was.
Davion stopped at the next corner and peered around it. He could see nothing but darkness, and the tunnel was much too narrow for Vylgranox. As powerful as he was, he was not as adept a digger as an earth dragon.
Davion exhaled and lowered his sword, realising that the others had pressed on without him. 'Hello? Shout if you can hear me!'
He was answered by a whistle.
'Hold on,' Mirana called. 'Caewyn's on her way back.'
Davion waited, spotting a small green light heading his way. He felt wary of it at first, even though it was only Caewyn holding up a small glowing gemstone. Maybe he had come to associate glowing green stuff with Terrorblade and Demons.
'Hello!' Caewyn loomed out of the darkness, lit by the gem in her hand. 'Were you going to smack him on the nose if he came after us?'
'It seemed like a good idea.'
'Not with his bad breath, it isn't. Come on. They're waiting for us.'
Davion followed Caewyn down the tunnel. It was a good thing he had waited for her, as there were several tunnels branching off along the way. If he had wandered down the wrong one, they might never have found him.
The white glow of Eserren's gauntlet-blade awaited them around the next bend. Mirana stood with one arm around Marci's shoulder, clutching Eserren's warhammer in her hand. Eserren and Fymryn stared into the tunnel ahead, both clutching their weapons.
Davion was about to ask what was wrong when he noticed the smell. It was a smell he knew all too well: rotting meat and dragon dung.
Now they knew for certain that there was a dragon down here.
Oh, the questions I have been getting after that last revelation! I'm glad to have sparked interest though, and I'm glad that the idea seems to be a good one.
I can answer this one of AtticDweller's questions straight from the off: radiant dragons are one of the eight major types (the others being: fire, water, sky (air, if you prefer), ionic (lightning) earth, void and chaos). I simply got the name muddled up with "luminous" when I started writing this. My bad! But since I've made it this far, I'm going to keep running with the name.
Furthermore, wurm-forged is not quite the same as wyrm-kissed. This will be explained later on. It will be head-canon, as I haven't found any concrete information about the wyrm-kissed.
Again, I am pleased with the responses I've been getting. Like others, I was annoyed by the series' explanation of Marci's abilities, I personally felt that it detracted from Marci as a character, and she's way too awesome for that. Though I considered the wurm-forged explanation potentially weak, I ran with it because it seemed to be a better option regardless. Again, I'm glad that it's working.
