Chapter Twenty
Until The Last Falls
Jorsen fell off the horse, landing with a clatter and much swearing. Dragon Knights and squires gathered around the survivors, staring and gawping.
Bram dismounted the horse, which was breathing heavily, flanks shining with sweat. They had taken over twenty men out to face the maddened ionic dragon. Twelve had returned. Of them, seven were injured. There had been other survivors, but they had been forced to leave them behind.
Bram felt sick. They had abandoned their brothers to die. Staying would have gotten them all killed, but it made the guilt no easier to bear.
'Physicians!' Jorsen yelled. 'Get the physicians!'
Ritterfau hurried over as fast as his armour would allow. Carliven limped behind him. The physicians ran past them, stopping by the injured men supine upon the ground, draped over horses or leaning against their more intact brothers.
The steady dripping of blood on the flagstones punctuated the silence before Ritterfau spoke. 'Sir Jorsen! What happened?'
Jorsen clambered to his feet, unfastened his chinstrap, removed his helm and let it fall to the ground. His face was covered in sweat. He tried to speak, and failed.
'We slew the ionic dragon,' one of the other Knights reported. 'But we were set upon by two Eldwurms: Indrak and Vylgranox.'
'You're certain?' Carliven demanded.
'No,' Jorsen coughed and wiped his face, smearing it with blood from his gauntlets. 'Indrak attacked us, likely for slaying the ionic dragon. But then he was attacked by Vylgranox… at least… I think it was Vylgranox.' Jorsen shook his head. 'I saw the Arbiter at Weiß Wache. This dragon looked very much like him, but...'
'He looked wrong.' Bram said when Jorsen failed to finish. 'It looked like… like he had died. There were wounds all over his body, scabbed over with some sort of stone-like matter, including one in his head, as if somebody had cleaved his skull with an axe.'
'That's impossible.' Carliven stated. 'Nobody in all of recorded history has faced Vylgranox and lived, let alone killed him.'
'Sir Kaden was the only one to survive an Eldwurm's wrath, not counting the armies raised to destroy their avatars.' Ritterfau added.
Eldwurms could be defeated. It had happened before. But it was something entire armies had to commit to, and the casualties were usually immense.
But the Dragon Knights knew that the Eldwurms themselves kept each other under control, mainly through Vylgranox. They had been known to fight one another on occasion.
'What else did you see?' Carliven demanded.
Bram shuddered at the memory of what he had witnessed. He recounted how Indrak had arrived full of fury, laying waste to whatever he saw with the storm he had created. He told them how the storm had been stopped instantly, and how Vylgranox, or what had appeared to be Vylgranox, had arrived to fight Indrak.
'Indrak said… he said that Vylgranox was an affront to creation.'
'The other Eldwurms fear him.' Ritterfau stated dismissively. 'They destroyed his avatars to spite him.'
'But his eyes,' Bram insisted. 'They weren't Vylgranox's eyes. They were different! They were… they were just wrong, like...'
'Like they did not belong in this world.' Jorsen surprised Bram, his voice low and fearful. 'Like they belonged to something else.' He shuddered. 'We all felt nothing but fear when he arrived, more so than we did in the Broken Peaks.'
Bram stared at him. 'Kaden thought that Marci—the silent woman who was with Davion, the one who defeated him—was possessed by a Demon.'
'Yes,' Jorsen nodded, still staring at the ground. 'And Lady Eserren's report mentioned her eyes glowing when she slew Kaden, just like...' he looked up at Bram, his eyes wide. 'Do you think Vylgranox is possessed too?'
'I don't think Marci is possessed.' Bram said. 'But I think Vylgranox might be.'
'Impossible!' Ritterfau sputtered.
'But this might explain why Slyrak attached his soul to Davion!' Bram exclaimed. 'Don't you see? What if we've got this wrong? What if Slyrak forced the bond to protect himself? What if Vylgranox was wrong about Davion? What if something else is hunting the Eldwurms?'
'Earth and sky dragons have been going mad all over the world,' another Knight chimed in. 'We know that Uldorak is dead. Perhaps the same fate has befallen Aethrak, and now Indrak.'
'So Davion's demonic ally has shown her true colours at last.' Ritterfau murmured. 'She has likely killed him too, and has now moved on to another host: Vylgranox. Perhaps that was why she aided him, so that they could kill Vylgranox.'
Bram sighed and shook his head. 'She's not a Demon.'
'That is a bold claim to make, Squire.' Ritterfau glared at him.
'I know that I am right.'
'How could you, boy? I have served the Order for over twenty years. I know what I am talking about.'
'Father,' Jorsen fixed Ritterfau with a steely gaze. 'Bram is a Squire no longer. He struck the final blow against the dragon we were sent to kill. He has earned his place amongst us as a true Dragon Knight. I stand as his witness.'
'And I've been studying everything I can about dragons in the archives in the hopes if helping Davion.' Bram continued. 'And perhaps we can. Whatever has taken possession of Vylgranox is our enemy, not Davion or his allies.'
'But—' Ritterfau began.
'Enough.' Carliven snapped.
Ritterfau spluttered and fell silent. Though they both officially held an equal rank, Carliven had been a Father in the Order for much longer. He was the unofficial head of the pecking order.
Carliven leaned on his staff as he spoke. 'If Vylgranox has been subverted in some way, we will be hard pressed to stop him. He could go anywhere. And though Davion and his companions may not be as great a threat, they are still dangerous. But I want them brought here alive. But with Vylgranox, or whatever he is now, on the loose, we must prepare for a hunt the likes of which has not been undertaken for centuries.' He turned to Ritterfau. 'Recall all Dragon Knights and all those who serve the Order to Dragon Keep. Now.'
Ritterfau hesitated.
'We need to deal with Vylgranox, or whatever he is now, once and for all. He has already declared war upon us. It is time to return the sentiment.' Carliven declared. 'Recall all of our forces, then we shall see about capturing Davion.'
'What for, Father Carliven?' Bram asked warily.
'We have need of him. More than that, I cannot say now. Sir Jorsen, have the wounded attended to. Squire Bram, please accompany us. It is time for you to take your place as a Dragon Knight.'
Bram stayed where he was as Father Carliven limped back into the keep, followed by a rattled Father Ritterfau. He looked back at Jorsen, who was far less confident than usual. What they had witnessed and just heard had unnerved him, and he seemed to be doubting himself now.
He nodded to Bram. Bram returned the nod curtly, then reluctantly set off after the Fathers.
He had awaited this day for years, but he had hoped that it would be different. He had hoped, above all else, that it would be Davion who stood at his side as he was made a Dragon Knight.
He hoped he was still alive. The man was more than his mentor. He was like the brother he had never had.
Purist was quiet as they continued, making their way south over difficult terrain. There were no roads here, and they were in unclaimed territory. A large number of hostile creeps, combined with land which had little value, meant that there were few settlements out here, and few militiamen and soldiers to watch over the area.
Purist's horse was now laden with extra supplies as Sagan was, and he was leading it by the reins. Aiushtha had flatly warned them that she would not be a "pack-doe".
Everybody was tense about something, and there were too many long silences for anybody's liking. Mirana and Fymryn were not speaking. It was understandable in Mirana's case, and worrying in Fymryn's. Before, she had been relatively cheerful and optimistic. If things had not changed, she might have teased Mirana by flirting.
But she was downcast and silent now, only speaking when directly addressed. She was conflicted about what she had done, and what she might do next.
Mirana was worried about Selemene and the Dark Moon Order, as well as the uncertain future she and Marci faced.
Marci was worried about the future too, fretting over Mirana's safety, Davion's affliction, facing Terrorblade again. Oh, how that terrified her. It was easy to forget that loyal, dedicated, deadly Marci, the handmaiden who threw herself in harm's way so often for the sake of others, without hesitation, felt fear, and felt it often.
She was probably the most afraid out of all of them.
With his hammer braced against his shoulder, Purist caught up to her. She'd strayed towards the back, which was unusual. She tended to stay close to Mirana and Davion whenever possible.
Even with her thoughts occupied, her eyes moved here and there. She remained alert. She was unsurprised when he reached her side, the rustle of his armour giving him away. 'You have much to learn too.'
Marci glanced at him.
'Your abilities may well be unique now.' Purist continued. 'And you will have to master them before we confront Terrorblade.'
Marci raised an eyebrow.
'You resisted the Direstone's influence in the Broken Peaks.'
Marci shook her head, tapped the spot under her tunic where the eye-shaped amulet rested, then tapped her head and mimed speaking.
'I don't know anything about the voice, but it did not awaken any power you did not already have. You are wurm-forged. You have always had power.'
Marci frowned at him, then made an odd circular motion around her eyes.
'No. Davion mentioned it.'
Marci looked to Davion, who glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. 'Sorry.'
Marci smiled at him. She wasn't that bothered, just curious why Purist cared.
'You resisted it again in Trestaine.' Purist stated. 'In short, you will be vital in the battle against Terrorblade. He has need of the Direstone. We must deprive him of it.'
Marci raised both eyebrows and tapped her chin.
'With the blessings of the Omniscience, I can resist its influence for a short time. But my patron's powers have been waning in recent years. Mene cannot affect you, however. Your gifts are a part of you, they are in your blood.
What you must learn is how to unleash your full potential at will.'
Marci frowned, clearly puzzled. Whenever the power had burst from her, it had been out of her control. The "voice" had triggered it first, though Mirana and Davion had mentioned seeing small flickers of golden light in her eyes, even before her fateful battle against Kaden.
She looked to Purist, uncertain. She had her suspicions about what might trigger it, but she was not convinced. It couldn't be that simple. Could it?
'It is as you suspect, Marci.' Purist told her. 'Remember what you felt every time it began. It was your desire to save others, to protect, which acted as the catalyst.' He indicated Mirana. 'If I was to attack Princess Mirana right now—'
'Excuse me?' Mirana spluttered.
'—you would feel compelled to stop me. And thus you would likely tap into your power to protect her.'
Marci considered, still a little doubtful. She was wondering why the ability had not manifested when she had been attacked as a girl. Or why it had taken so long for her to "unleash" as the "voice" had put it.
'The power was always there within you.' Purist insisted. 'It always takes time for some of the more potent abilities of the wurm-forged to manifest. You are no different. Learning how to trigger them can be more difficult. Controlling them, harder still.' He raised his voice. 'And you, Princess, must also adapt.'
'So you've told me.' Mirana murmured, glancing off into the trees. Both Purist and Marci knew what was bothering her.
Mirana and Marci seemed to be coming full circle. If they had chosen to divert north-east, they would eventually end up in the Nightsilver Woods. They had looped around this area to reach Barreltown, misled, it would seem, by the Invoker. Though how he had influenced Gwanwyn to lead them to Haupstadt was a mystery to her. Shabarra reaching out to Nikdo and his thugs had not been that great a surprise to her, but she did not fully understand the Invoker's goals.
He had wanted them out of the way, it seemed. But why?
She could guess that it had something to do with Selemene's fall and the bleeding moon. The Invoker must have seen them both as a threat. But surely they could not have made that much of a difference? If he had needed to keep them from helping Selemene, why hadn't he just killed them?
'What exactly am I supposed to do, Sir?' Mirana asked, a bite of annoyance in her voice. 'I have no power, not now.'
'I wouldn't be too sure of that.' Aiushtha muttered.
'Pardon?'
'Maybe I can help you, the next time we stop to rest.'
Mirana considered. She clearly doubted that Aiushtha could compensate for her lost divine gifts, but what choice did she have. Without her sacred abilities, she was at a disadvantage. Even though Caewyn and Eserren had no powers of their own, they possessed items which gave them an edge in battle. Caewyn had her custom-made bolts, and Eserren had her dragon-scale armour and bardiche.
Purist stopped and lifted his hammer just as Sagan started to growl. Fymrym froze, one hand inching towards her sword.
'What is it?' Mirana whispered.
Aiushtha pointed her staff into the thicket, eyes narrowed. 'We're not alone.'
'Obviously.' Purist murmured before raising his voice. 'Show yourself!'
Marci drew one of her throwing knives, eyes fixed on the foliage. She tensed as the leaves rustled.
A twig snapped. Marci drew back her arm.
'There!' Aiushtha cried. There was a figure running between the trees, a humanoid of some kind.
Marci hesitated. Whoever it was, they were running away. It wasn't in her nature to kill in cold blood.
'Hey!' Mirana called. 'We mean you no harm!'
The figure did not respond. Aiushtha dug at the soil with her hooves, wondering if she should give chase.
'Probably a poacher.' Davion reasoned. 'We might as well let them go.'
Aiushtha ground her teeth. 'A poacher? If they were poaching in my home, I wouldn't just let them go.'
'Easy, Aiushtha,' Purist advised. 'He might try to lead you into an ambush. I doubt that he is alone.'
Eserren glared after the supposed poacher, her green eyes narrowed. 'Caewyn, did you notice anything odd?'
Sharp-eyed Caewyn nodded. 'He was armed with a sword.'
'As I thought.' Eserren muttered. 'I would have expected a poacher or wayward hunter to use a bow, not a sword.'
Mirana sighed heavily. 'We should keep moving. If there are any rivers nearby, we should use them to conceal our footprints.'
'Or hoofprints in my case.' Aiushtha murmured.
They had to make do with a stream, walking through the water in an attempt to confuse anybody tracking them. Eserren suspected that the man they had seen was either a mercenary or a bounty hunter.
Though Mirana's uncle had been ousted, there were probably still hunters seeking Davion on behalf of the Dragon Knights.
They had stopped for the evening. The space they had chosen was more open than Davion would have liked, but Aiushtha had assured them that she could ward off some beasts. She had been ambling around the makeshift camp, casting spells of some kind.
Marci sat apart from them for once, legs crossed and her eyes closed. Davion suspected that she was trying to rouse her power on demand. That left him to prepare the food. Not that he minded.
Aiushtha stopped patrolling and settled down next to a tree. 'What are we having?'
'Not much.' Davion muttered. 'We're low on food again. We still have some salted meat left over though.'
Aiushtha grimaced. 'I don't eat meat.'
'Oh.' That shouldn't have come as a surprise. 'Dried fruit then?'
'Do you have any hazelnuts?'
'No.'
Aiushtha sighed. 'Then fruit will do.'
Davion split some rations between them, all too aware of how meagre their supplies were now. They'd had little luck hunting recently. The Invoker had given them provisions, but those would not last long.
There were very few settlements in this region. There was the odd roadside inn and militia outpost, but they were reluctant to use them. Davion was still a wanted man, and the locals would likely be hostile towards Fymryn, Caewyn and Aiushtha.
If their luck did not change, they would starve before they had to worry about facing Terrorblade again.
Davion took Marci's portion over to her. 'Marci?'
Marci opened her eyes. He thought he saw little spots of light in them again, but they faded in a heartbeat. Marci arched an eyebrow at him.
Davion held out the bowl. It probably wouldn't do much to satisfy her appetite.
Marci accepted the food. She ate more slowly than usual, her mind elsewhere. When she was done, she closed her eyes and tried to rouse her power again. Whatever she was trying wasn't working very well.
Marci sighed and opened her eyes. She shook her head.
'Maybe I can help,' Davion suggested. He stood up and extended his hand. Frowning slightly, Marci took it and stood. Davion led her over to the edge of the camp and smiled reassuringly at her. 'How does the stance look? Like this?' He tried to imitate one of the combat stances she used.
Marci realised what he was doing. She smiled and nudged one foot forwards with hers, then lifted his arms so that his hands were blocking his face.
Marci stepped back and took up her own stance, left foot ahead and pointing forwards, right foot back and pointing to the side. She raised her eyebrows.
'I'm ready.'
Marci decided to start with the basics, showing him the easy punches: jabs and crosses, hooks, uppercuts, and how to block them.
Davion had thought he knew how to throw a punch, and he could brawl well enough. But Marci used technique to bolster her already formidable strength. She stopped him in the middle of a sequence to show him how she punched, indicating that he should watch her feet and torso rather than her shoulders, then performed a slow jab.
Davion tried not to be distracted. She was trying to help. He noticed how she pivoted on her feet, twisting her torso as she punched. The simple action meant that whenever she struck, she put her entire body weight behind each blow. Marci didn't weigh much, but it made a substantial difference even with her draconic strength.
Davion mimicked the pivot on his next punch. Marci smiled her approval and started to show him more moves.
'Your turn, Princess.' Aiushtha announced as she settled next to Mirana. 'How do you feel about magic?'
Mirana shrugged, still watching Davion and Marci. She had always enjoyed watching Marci train and spar back in Rasolir. Her skill had always been hypnotic, back when they had been safe and sheltered.
It was different now, having seen her use those skills and her gifts to kill. But she still liked to watch Marci practise. She was confident when sparring, and it showed.
Aiushtha was still waiting for a response beyond a shrug. 'I don't have anything against magic.' Mirana answered. 'But I can't use magic. I was a priestess, not a mage.'
'True,' Aiushtha agreed. 'But there is still a little magic in you. A priestess' gifts don't manifest from nothing. It won't be easy, but I can try to unlock something for you. Your bow is enchanted, so it can act as your focus.'
Mirana was clearly uncertain. She picked up her bow and frowned at it. It had been a gift from Selemene herself, imbued with a fraction of her power. Would it work now that Selemene was hurt? She knew that she could not call down another Starstorm spell, so why did Aiushtha think that she could cast other spells?
'May I?' Aiushtha held out her hand. Mirana handed the bow over, briefly glancing at Davion and Marci again. They had started to spar, and it was no surprise that Marci was winning. She'd floored him again, but he was taking it very well. He was actually laughing. Marci was smiling as she helped him back up.
Mirana smiled ruefully. She'd never been good at hand-to-hand combat. She'd tried to learn from Marci before, and had failed dismally. Unlike Davion, she had let her inability to match Marci's skills get to her. Davion knew that he was no equal to Marci in unarmed combat, but he didn't mind.
Aiushtha was busy examining Mirana's recurve bow, running her hands across the wood. 'Beautiful,' she murmured to herself. 'Your goddess chose well. This is a weapon fit for a Princess, even if it is diminished. But it needn't stay that way.' She placed the bow on the ground and took up her staff, touching the end to the bow. A blue glow suffused the weapon, fading quickly.
'There!' Aiushtha sounded pleased with herself. 'See how that feels.'
Mirana picked up the bow. It thrummed faintly for a moment, then settled in her hands. It felt familiar, but not quite the same. 'It's… it feels a little different.'
'It's a different kind of power.'
'So the bow has magic, not me.'
'It's an instrument. A focus. It will be your will which affects the magic.'
There was another thud and Mirana saw Davion on the ground again. Marci had a cocky grin on her face as she leaned down to help him up again.
Davion smirked, then yanked her off her feet. She landed atop him, startled. Davion laughed, and she started to laugh too.
Mirana glanced at Purist, expecting him to disapprove. But oddly, he was smiling. Mirana had to wonder what he knew that they did not.
She had no complaints though. It was nice to see Marci smile and laugh, especially at times like this. Davion was good at cheering her up.
'What spells are you going to teach me?' Mirana asked.
'Me? None. You're the one who has to learn.' Aiushtha explained. 'This is your focus. Like Marci, it's up to you to find out what you're capable of.'
'Does that I mean can call a Starstorm again?'
Aiushtha pondered the question. 'If that power was unique to Selemene's clergy, probably not. But who knows? You might be able to call upon something similar. My abilities are unique to me. They're just things I learned.'
Mirana flexed the bowstring, wondering. 'I've never… sorry, forget it.'
'You've never seen somebody like me before.' Aiushtha guessed. 'My kind are related to centaurs, but not the same. There have never been many of us, and we prefer to remain apart from others.'
'Do you have a family? Friends?'
Aiushtha did not answer immediately. 'Yes. My herd scattered years ago. We were driven away from our lands.'
'By monsters?'
'No. People.'
'I'm sorry.'
'It's not your fault.' Aiushtha mustered a smile. 'I'll find my family again, one day.'
Mirana thought of her parents, and realised that she was envious of Aiushtha. She still had a chance to reclaim her old life. But Mirana did not. Even if what Purist said about her uncle was true, even if she did return to Rasolir and was reinstated as royalty again, it would never be the same.
She looked up in time to see Marci showing Davion how to perform a spinning backfist. He was far less graceful than her, and she kept having to steady him. Again, she noticed how the contact lasted longer than necessary, the way she smiled at him.
She smothered the little twinge of envy. It was harder now.
She could no longer pretend that there might be a chance that Selemene might forgive Marci. Selemene might take Mirana back, but she would banish Marci.
Mirana thought about how that would make her handmaiden feel. Marci would never abandon her. She would always be there. She would have to scrape and scrounge in the Nightsilver Woods to survive. As capable as she was, Mirana doubted that Marci would be able to manage with the wild night-beasts prowling the woods.
And she would blame herself for what had happened. Mirana knew that. She would be lonely, scared, depressed, unloved. But wherever Mirana went, she would follow.
Mirana could not put her through that. She would not.
If Marci was not welcome in the Nightsilver Woods now, then that was not where Mirana belonged either. Marci had sacrificed so much for Mirana.
Too much.
No more.
'Mirana?' Aiushtha tapped her shoulder and indicated the bow.
Mirana looked down and realised that the bow was thrumming gently, and there was a faint glow too.
'That's good!' Aiushtha approved. 'How did you do that so quickly?'
Mirana heard Marci's huff of laughter as she and Davion sat down again. She whistled softly to Davion, who smiled in return and put his arm around her shoulders. They just sat like that, Davion speaking quietly to her now and then, Marci responding with soft whistles and warm smiles.
'I was thinking,' Mirana answered with a whisper, 'about someone I love.'
As roadside inns went, Luna had been in better.
She'd raided better.
She tried not to think about that as she lifted her flagon and gulped down a few mouthfuls of ale.
She'd had better ale too. She'd stolen better.
She'd killed for less.
Luna lifted the flagon and downed the rest. She was starting to think that this was a mistake. She'd only stopped for a bite to eat, to rest her feet, have a drink as Nova hunted, maybe hear rumours which might lead her to Mirana.
But once again, she was wallowing in memories she would rather forget.
Nobody had talked about what she had done in the commune. Selemene had known, of course. Did Mirana? Did Marci? Would they hate her when they found out?
Luna lifted the flagon. That didn't matter. Maybe she deserved to be hated.
The flagon was empty. Luna grimaced and set it down next to her plate. She tuned out the droning bard in the corner, instead taking a hunk of bread and stuffing it into her mouth. The bandits she and Nova had killed had indeed kept a stash. It had been so poorly hidden Luna was surprised it hadn't been found before.
The coin was meagre, but it would do. Luna had survived off less.
Luna debated getting more ale. She could afford it. But she had drunk enough. She needed a clear head.
'A request, my lady?' the bard sat down opposite her, balancing his poorly tuned lute across the knees of his faded, shabby hosen. 'You seem most ill at ease. Mayhaps I can soothe you, with music,' he leaned forwards, waggling his eyebrows, 'or my sterling company?'
Luna scowled. 'Sod off.'
'Oh, my lady! Surely you do not mean that?'
Luna was wrapped up in a cloak, covering her armour, with her hood up to conceal her hair. She had stashed her newly acquired kriegsmesser outside, but the flail was concealed at her side and she still had the dagger hidden up her sleeve.
Normally, Luna would have relished a fight, and shutting this idiot up. But she could not afford to have mercenaries and militiamen chasing her. Instead of her fists, she relied on her fierce glare.
Unfortunately, the bard seemed to regard this as a challenge. 'Oh, the songs I could compose about those lovely violet eyes and your snow-white hair!'
'Don't.' Luna muttered. 'Now shove off and leave me in peace, and maybe I won't break your lute.'
A few of the patrons had heard the bard, and one or two were leaning towards the table, trying to peer under Luna's hood.
Luna cursed quietly. She was reluctant to lose a coin to this fool of a bard, but she needed him to stop drawing attention to her. 'Go and sing for somebody else.'
'But I wish to sing for you, my lady.'
'No, you don't.' Luna slid a second coin towards him. 'And you're not my type, so don't bother sticking around.'
'I could be your type, I am sure.'
Luna growled. 'I am not giving you another coin. Get lost before I break your fingers.'
This time, the bard registered the obvious menace in her voice. He gulped, took the two coins and scurried away.
Luna sighed, annoyed at having to waste the money, mopped up the gravy on her plate with the last of the bread, and finished her meal. Time to move on.
Luna stood and approached the bar, intending to refill one of her flasks. She was careful to keep her cloak and hood in position. As she moved, a man clad in soiled leathers and carrying an old sword rushed inside and hurried over a table.
Luna had kept a wary eye on that table since entering. The men gathered around it were sell-swords of some kind, raucous and jubilant and looking for trouble. Luna had overheard some of their conversations.
'Where the 'ell 'ave you been?' One of them addressed the newcomer, sounding amused. 'Strayed too far from the path for a piss, did ya?'
'I saw him!' the panting man wheezed between breaths. 'That Dragon Knight with a price on his head!'
Not her concern. Luna placed her flask on the bar. 'Can you fill this?'
The innkeeper frowned as he took the flask. He'd been trying to place her accent since she had arrived. She had spoken as little as possible to make it harder for him.
'Was that demon-possessed girl there too? The mute dressed like one of Selemene's folk?'
Luna turned her head, now listening intently. Surely not! They couldn't be talking about Marci, could they? She was distinctive in her own way, if only because she couldn't talk.
Luna noticed the innkeeper approaching with her flask. 'Bounties.'
'Eh?'
'Tell me about the bounty on this Dragon Knight,' Luna jerked her head towards the mercenaries. 'The one they're talking about.'
The man frowned. 'Not thinking about going after him, are you? They say he's a skin-shifting fiend of some sort. Turns into a dragon, believe it or not.'
'Just tell me about him, and any friends he has.'
The innkeeper shrugged. 'They say his name is Davian… or was it Davion? Well, according to gossip he used to be a Dragon Knight. Then he made some sort of dark bargain with a dragon and became a monster. Now they want him dead. Or they did. Apparently they want him alive now. Should make up their minds.'
'Does he have friends?'
'They say he's in the company of two strange women, both masquerading as members of the Dark Moon Order. One is a witch of some kind. The other is said to be possessed.'
'Tell me more about her—the "possessed" one.' Luna wasn't sure about this "witch", but she still had the feeling that the "possessed" woman might be Marci. Wherever Marci was, Mirana would probably be there too.
He shrugged again. 'Don't know much about her. They said not to go near her. Said she's got inhuman strength, doesn't speak, they say she killed one of their be—' He stopped as Luna snatched the flask and turned away. 'Hey! You owe...'
Luna tossed a coin over her shoulder as she marched up to the mercenaries. She tapped the late arrival on the shoulder. 'The Dragon Knight. Who was with him?'
The man turned and stared at her, still out of breath. A poor excuse for a warrior. Luna would not have allowed any of her soldiers to be so out of shape. 'You what?'
The other mercenaries all watched her, some wary, some amused, some hostile. Maybe they thought she was competition. She did not care.
'Who was with the Dragon Knight? And where are they?'
'Why don't you piss off and mind your own business?' A large, beefy man, probably the leader, suggested slowly.
'Why don't you tell me what I want to know?' Luna countered. 'The Dragon Knight is of no interest to me. But he might be travelling with somebody I'm looking for: a priestess of Selemene.' The name of her former goddess tasted sour in her mouth, old ashes on her tongue. 'I'll pay for information.'
The leader stood. He was as tall as Luna, and wider. 'Go and shove your head—'
The door opened again. Luna barely turned her head, only looking out of the corner of her eye.
Three Pangoliers, all clad in ornate armour, rich capes, with feathered caps atop their heads and armed with fancy blades. Not what she had expected.
'Good ladies and gentlemen,' the lead Pangolier, wearing a red and silver breastplate and carrying a rapier with an elaborate hilt, spoke with a thick Nivanese accent. 'Please do not be alarmed. We are Gallants from distant Nivan. We are sworn to find two individuals: two fair ladies in the service of the goddess Selemene, likely clad as members of the Dark Moon Order. One wears a distinctive silver tiara with a red gem. They answer to the names of Mirana and Marci.'
Luna frowned, wondering who might be the greater threat. Why were Nivanese Gallants searching for Mirana and her handmaiden?
Selemene had said that Mirana was the long lost Princess of the Sun, heir to the Solar Throne. Luna had always known where Mirana and Marci had really come from, or had at least suspected it. Mirana's strong upper class Imperium accent had been a giveaway, as had her haughty manner. Luna knew the accent well. She'd killed many people in the Imperium. But why did the Nivanese care about the lost heir to the Solar Throne?
'Bounty's taken, scale-backs.' The beefy mercenary was sneering at the Pangoliers. 'Go back to your poxy country and drown yourselves in your stinking wine.'
The lead Pangolier sauntered closer. 'You are bounty hunters, yes?'
'Mercs. What's it to you?'
'We are sworn to protect the noble women we seek. It would go badly for you if you intend to harm them.'
'There's enough sodding competition as it is. First this albino wretch, now you scale-backs. We're claiming the bounty on the witch-dragon and his companions, not some Nivanese wastrels or some ice-haired bitch.'
The Pangolier bristled. 'Do not insult a lady in my presence. Apologise.'
'Or what?'
The Pangolier drew his rapier in a flash of silvery steel. 'I shall make you apologise.'
'Don't bother.' Luna told him. 'I don't need an apology.' She seized one of the tankards from the table and drained it. She threw it down and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, letting her hood fall back.
'Hey!' the man whose drink she had stolen started to rise. 'I hadn't finished that, you bi—'
Luna did not let him finish. She jabbed him in the stomach with her fist. As he bent over, wheezing and winded, she grabbed his head and slammed it into the table. He fell onto the floor, out cold.
'Now,' Luna eyed each man with a narrow gaze. 'How about you answer my question?'
The leader pulled his mace from his belt. 'You're gonna regret that.'
The other two Gallants drew their weapons. Their leader grinned. 'En garde!'
The man closest to Luna went for his sword. Luna snatched the dagger from her sleeve and jammed it into his neck, yanking his sword from its sheath as he fell and then burying it in his comrade's chest.
The other patrons screamed and stampeded towards the door. The barman yelled and ducked behind the counter.
The beefy leader leapt at Luna, and was speared in the side by the rapier of her unexpected ally.
Luna whipped the flail from under her cloak and smashed her target's head open, spraying gore all over the table. She yanked the flail free, spun the spiked ball over her head, and brought it down onto another man.
The runner was still wheezing, and she needed him alive. She released the flail and tackled him, snatching his sword. The Gallants were busy fighting the remainder. Their rapiers and cutlasses weren't that effective against armour, but they were fast and skilful combatants. Luna was confident that they would win.
She brought the edge of the stolen sword to the skin of its owner's throat. 'Where are they?'
'South!' the man all but bawled. 'Heading for the swamps!'
'Is that the truth?' Luna demanded, pushing the blade down and drawing blood.
'Yes! I swear it! By every god and their mother!'
Luna could see the fear in his eyes. He was telling the truth. Satisfied, she slammed the pommel into his head, knocking him out. She jumped up, saw one of the last mercenaries preparing to bury an axe in the Gallants' leader, and shoved the sword through his back. She caught the axe as it fell from his hands and yanked the sword free.
The Pangolier turned to her as the body dropped, his own opponent now dead on the ground. 'You have my thanks, my lady.'
Luna reached down, unbuckled the unfit mercenary's sword-belt, and sheathed her newly acquired sword before buckling the belt around her waist.
'You would steal from these men?'
'I just killed some of them. You don't seem to have an issue with that. Better that I use this sword, anyway.'
'These fellows said that you were looking for the same people we are,' the Gallant recalled. 'Do you intend to harm them?'
'I don't know what you are talking about.' Luna lied. 'We had a disagreement over something else.'
The Gallant frowned. 'There is no need to be dishonest with us, my lady. If you do not intend to harm the noble Princess and her handmaiden, then perhaps we can help one another.' He wiped his rapier clean and sheathed it with a flourish.
Luna shook her head. 'I don't think so, Gallant. I'm better off alone.' She looked down at her handiwork. A couple of the mercenaries still lived. Once, she would have killed them all.
For a moment, she considered it. But she did not want to, just for once. There seemed to be little point. If the survivors had any sense, they would not pursue her.
Luna sighed. 'Thank you,' the words felt awkward as she uttered them, 'for helping me. I wish you good fortune.'
The Gallant swept his hat from his head as he bowed. 'Au revoir, mademoiselle.'
Luna turned on her heel and walked outside. Out of sight, she ran to the edge of the woods, retrieved her kriegsmesser, and called for Nova. The lunar-lion came bounding out of the trees at once, eager to continue their journey.
If Luna had looked back, she would have seen Donté Panlin and two Gallants, Jac and Pierro, standing in the doorway. Donté was watching with a spyglass as she climbed onto Nova's back and set off.
'A night beast,' Donté noted. 'She must have been sent by Selemene.'
'Does that make her a threat, Sir?' Pierro asked.
'I do not know.' Donté lowered the spyglass. 'But she may lead us to our goal. Come, let us follow her, my friends. Perhaps we can prove to her that we are trustworthy.'
'It's time, Brother.'
Bram inhaled deeply, his heart thudding behind his ribs.
He should have been overjoyed. This was what he had wanted for so long, to become a Dragon Knight.
But he had always envisioned Davion being here with him. He had hoped to go into battle with him, not as his squire, but as a brother Dragon Knight.
Instead, he was standing with Jorsen as his witness. Davion was an outcast, to be captured or killed on sight.
The two Knights standing before them opened the doors to the Great Hall. The chamber was cavernous, reaching sixty feet in height, the vaulted ceiling supported by eight vast pillars, each entwined with the stone likeness of a dragon: earth and chaos, water and sky, ionic and radiant, void and fire. Dragon skulls of various types adorned the walls, lit from below by wide braziers.
At the far end of the hall, their throne-like chairs carved in the likeness of Dragon Knights, sat Fathers Ritterfau and Carliven. Arrayed on each side of the hall were other Dragon Knights and their squires, the Knights all clad in dragon scale of varying hues.
Bram had witnessed ceremonies like these before at Davion's side. They were treated as solemn occasions, celebrations came later.
Bram did not have it in his heart to be happy. Not after everything that had happened. Not after what he had witnessed.
Jorsen walked at Bram's side as they continued down the length of the hall, stopping before the Fathers. Both Fathers stood as Bram went down to one knee.
'Squire Bram, you have slain your first dragon and earned the right to become a Knight of the Order.' Carliven announced. 'Sir Jorsen, do you vouch for this man?'
'Yes, Fathers.' Jorsen inclined his head. 'He will be a worthy Dragon Knight, and a loyal brother-in-arms.'
'Brother Bram,' Ritterfau lifted a wide-brimmed chalice, full of a rich, red liquid: dragon's blood. 'Drink of this, the vitae of our foes, and become a hunter of those who instil only fear in all others. Become a Dragon Knight.' He lowered the chalice.
Bram took the chalice and raised it to his lips. The blood within came from all eight varieties of dragons. The smell of it was cloying, the blood thick and potent. It was not unusual for newly initiated Knights to fall ill for a few days after the ceremony.
Bram tilted the goblet and swallowed, trying not to gag on the thick, glutinous fluid. It tasted foul, but he could literally feel the power within.
When he was done, forcing himself to swallow the last of it, he handed the goblet back.
'You have knelt as a squire,' Ritterfau declared. 'Rise as a Dragon Knight.'
Bram slowly stood, his legs shaking, feeling queasy.
'May your victories be decisive, and may they be many, Sir Bram, Knight of the Order.'
The other Dragon Knights and squires thumped their fists against their chests, steel and dragon scale clanging and rattling. 'Until the last falls, we shall stand against the wurm! Our blood and our lives, in defence of the realms, until the last falls!'
Bram placed his own fist against his chest, still trying to keep his stomach under control. 'Until the last falls.'
He was no longer Bram the squire. Now he was Sir Bram, Dragon Knight.
And it felt wrong.
A quick thing to note about the Eldwurms in this AU: it is said that nobody has killed one (denying it the chance to migrate to another avatar and therefore permanently destroying it) in recorded history. What about before the Dragon Knights were founded? The truth is: they don't know everything about dragons.
The second point, before anybody asks: simply drinking a dragon's blood does not make somebody wurm-forged. The process is more complicated than that.
Also, I have changed the motto of the Dragon Knights to "until the last falls". It's more of a personal choice than anything else. It is their duty to kill dragons or die trying, after all, and the new motto reflects that.
Lastly: I'm sure lots of you know about or have seen the trailer for Book Three of the official anime series. Unazaki was kind enough to make me aware of it, and I have seen it. This may or may not come as a surprise, but I'm not intending to watch Book Three. Not yet, at least. I have reasons: the foremost being that I don't want to further clutter Ascension. It's my most complex story to date, and since I've deviated so far from the canon, I'd like it to continue being its own story now.
