Chapter Fourteen

Arbiters and Outcasts

The smooth onyx doors opened as they approached. Fymryn had expected them to grate as they swung back, but they were utterly silent.

Fymryn did not hesitate, unlike her friends who dithered on the threshold before hurrying after her. The air inside was cool, though not unpleasantly so. The smooth surfaces were faintly lit with a blue-white glow, but there was no sign of whatever cast the light.

Even as Fymryn drank in these sights with her eyes, she continued to walk quickly and purposefully. Her friends trotted along behind her. Unlike her, they were wary and nervous. Idwal seemed especially tense.

There was another set of doors at the end of the long hallway. Fymryn opened them without any doubts and stepped through.

The doubt only came when she realised that she was now alone. When she turned her head, she saw only a blank stone wall behind her. Her friends were nowhere to be seen. She called their names, but there was no response.

All was silent and still. The only sound she could hear was her own breathing. The only thing which moved was her.

Fymryn stepped forwards, holding the sack of lotuses close to her chest, staring around at the strange and wondrous sights around her. Amazing and obviously magical items were stood against the walls. Her eyes drank in so many arcane artefacts that she could barely comprehend what they all were.

There was a suit of armour, made of carefully carved segmented dragon scales. It was as red as blood, lined with dark brown dragon hide. Tiny orange runes glowed in fissures between the scales. Opposite the suit of armour was a massive dragon's skull. Even bare of flesh and scale and life, it made Fymryn shiver. The vast, cavernous maw could have swallowed her and her friends in one go.

On the plinth ahead, tiny yellow gems circled an eye carved of gold—also floating inexplicably. The plinth itself was topped by gold. Leaning closer, Fymryn realised that the gold was not metal. More dragon scales. Either the sage liked dragons or they held some fascination for him.

Dragons were elemental and fundamental power made manifest. One of her elders had told her that. Perhaps it was true. She was unsurprised to see what appeared to be a pair of small bracers next which also seemed to be formed from dragon scales—gold again.

Fymryn moved slowly, gazing around at the strange objects around her. Some seemed mundane, but could not be so: an old tome with torn corners, an old knife with a rusty blade, a single pure white feather. Others were obviously arcane: a long staff with emeralds rotating around its head, a scroll which fizzed and crackled with electricity, a small series of coloured globes which glowed and rotated in mid air.

Fymryn wandered for what seemed like hours, if not days, in this strange place. She passed through what seemed to be a vast library. The shelves within were stacked from floor to ceiling, twenty feet high. There had to be more books here than could possibly be read in a lifetime.

Fymryn dared to open one, and found it full of strange symbols and runes she could not comprehend. They swam and shifted before her eyes, as if denying her due to her ignorance.

The next chamber was spherical, and full of large glowing globes rotating in mid air. She thought she recognised the moon, but realised that it was in the wrong place.

Dizzy after watching the globes rotate for a few minutes, Fymryn hurried on. She felt small and insignificant in this place, like an insect in the home of giants. She was starting to seriously worry about her absent friends as she strode down the next long corridor, a space which seemed to stretch on forever.

Fymryn reached the end of the corridor, and now she stood in a wide circular chamber which could have housed her village ten times over. This had to be impossible! The room was wider than the tower was.

It was also almost completely empty. All that occupied the room was a wide pool of shallow silvery water. It reminded Fymryn of the sacred pools surrounding the Temple of Mene.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Fymryn recalled the auburn haired mute who had tried to stop her at the Temple of Mene. She stifled a giggle as she remembered her falling into one of the sacred pools. It had not been funny at the time, and being chased by that same woman riding a lunar tiger had been terrifying. Escaping peril skewed one's perceptions of that same peril. Danger became amusing. Overcoming fear led to confidence, and a rush of excitement few things could compare to. Perhaps this explained Fymryn's desire for adventure.

'Welcome.'

Fymryn literally jumped. She fumbled with the bag of lotuses, now scared witless. The voice had been calm, not hostile. Yet it had come from nowhere and everywhere. It had been deep, masculine and measured.

'You have arrived as I expected.' the voice continued. 'Do not worry about your friends. They are quite safe.'

Fymryn's mouth worked like she was a fish plucked from the water. It had to be the sage speaking, but why would he not show himself? And how had he been expecting her?

'Tell me, child, do you believe in Mene? Are you loyal to Her?'

Fymryn struggled to find her voice. 'I-I... I do believe in Her. I did this for Her.'

'Good.' The voice came from behind her. Close behind her.

Fymryn spun round, almost dropping the bag again. Standing there was a tall man wearing long white robes. He kept his hood up, but she could still see long blond hair falling past his collar. His face was long and drawn, pointed and straight. Though his skin was smooth, she could see the many years in his old eyes. She could hear it in his voice.

There was sadness hidden deep in those eyes. It emerged as a soft undercurrent in his wise voice. There was also anger smouldering away beneath the surface, waiting to be stoked like the fire in a smithy.

How Fymryn knew this, she could not say. This was just what she knew.

'You surpassed my expectations.' The man appraised her coolly. 'My tools served you well, it seems.'

Fymryn felt her eyes widen and her mouth dropped open. 'It... it was you? You helped me? You gave me the glamour?'

'I did. I chose you because I could see Mene's blessings upon you.'

'Forgive me, but if you did all of that...' Fymryn hesitated. If she offended this man... who knew what would happen to her?

'You are wondering why I did not simply take the lotuses myself?' A small smile lifted his pale lips. But there was no mirth, no warmth, in that smile. 'I could not. It is as simple as that. It had to be you. It had to be one chosen by Mene Herself. I merely aided Her cause by furnishing you with the information and the tools you would need. Besides, I lack your aptitude for subterfuge. The Usurper and Her clerics would have detected me long before I entered the Nightsilver Woods. Power such as mine comes at the cost of subtlety. And for all my power, I could not have opposed all of the servants of the Usurper. Though Selemene may not be the rightful Moon Goddess, She is not without power or loyal followers.'

'How did you know I would come here? You never told me to.'

'It was the best course of action open to you. You believe in the old legends, young Fymryn. You believe in the old ways. I knew that you would find your way here. Mene guided you here.'

'I see.' Fymryn resisted the urge to moisten her dry lips. 'I... thank you, for your help.' She held out the bag. 'I've brought the lotuses.'

'So I see.' The man extended his hand. Fymryn held her breath as the lotuses floated out of the bag, all nine of them hovered around the sage's hand, bathing him in a rich violet glow. 'The first trial is complete.' He gestured slowly and elegantly, and the lotuses glided into the silvery pool. As Fymryn watched, their glow intensified.

'What... what happens now?'

'Now I must ask another task of you.' The sage pointed at the pool. It shimmered and turned opaque. 'Mene still has need of you, Fymryn.'

Two faces had appeared in the water. They were faces familiar to Fymryn.

One belonged to a beautiful woman with long brown hair and icy blue eyes. A silver tiara adorned with a red gem sat upon her brow. The second face was oval-shaped, with pale brown eyes, auburn hair held back messily and a lightly freckled nose. The former she was only vaguely sure of, but the second she knew well: the strange speechless woman who had chased her at the Temple of Mene.

'I know them!' Fymryn cried. 'They're part of the Dark Moon Order!'

'Yes. I know who they are.' The sage still spoke quietly, no anger or disdain in his voice even though he spoke of the enemies of Mene. 'Mirana, the most favoured of Selemene and Princess of the Moon, and her handmaiden, Marci.' He waved his hand again and a third image appeared. This one was alien to Fymryn: a tall, broad-shouldered man with tawny skin, short dark hair and stubble, and warm, deep brown eyes. 'This one you do not know. His name is Davion. He is a Dragon Knight.'

'Are you asking me to stop them?' Fymryn whispered. Though she was skilled in evasion and stealth, she was not much of a fighter. She preferred to avoid trouble rather than face it. 'I'm not sure I could. Not without help.'

'I do not want you to stop them.'

'But if they're after the lotuses-'

'The lotuses will not be their concern for much longer. Nor should you worry about them. They will be safe and far away soon.' The sage turned his head to regard her. 'I need you to find them. I need you to bring them here.'

'Here?'

'Yes, to my home. It is important. It is the will of Mene. Do you understand?'

'I... no. What could Mene want with the followers of the Usurper?'

'You will learn in time.' The sage waved his hand and the pool cleared once more. 'It is time for you to leave, Fymryn.'

'What of my friends?'

'I have already arranged for them to be transported from this place. They will be safe. But you cannot return to your people yet. You have become a part of this tale, Fymryn. You are now one of the authors of a new chapter of destiny. You will need this.' He pressed a small gem into her hands, a sapphire. 'It will guide you.'

'But... but I haven't agreed to anything!'

'You are the chosen of Mene, Fymryn. You said that you are loyal to Her, did you not?'

'Yes, but... what if they try to kill me?'

'They might. You must convince them otherwise. Mene has need of you, Fymryn. Dying would disappoint Her.' He laid a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered, for his touch was cool rather than warm. 'All I can tell you is that there are times when even our enemies must become our allies. You will understand in due time.'

Fymryn sighed and clutched the gem tightly. 'So long as my friends are safe, I will do as you ask.'

'You will have to be careful, Fymryn. Though she is disgraced by your actions, the Princess of the Moon still has some of the blessings of Selemene. She will use those blessings against you if she deems you a threat. Her handmaiden has an innate power of her own: a great strength hidden under her unassuming exterior. Even I do not understand her abilities. You would do well to keep your distance from her.'

'And the Dragon Knight?'

'He slays dragons. To say that he is dangerous would be an understatement—an unnecessary one. But be especially wary of him. There is something powerful lurking in his soul, something he does not understand. Nor is he able to control it.'

'How do you know all of this? Did Mene tell you?'

'I have my ways of learning. One must know all of the players in a game to overcome them.'

Fymryn hesitated, opening and closing her mouth in fishlike fashion once again.

'You still worry about your friends.' The sage waved his hand again. The pool turned opaque once more and she saw her friends back in the forest, bewildered but otherwise unharmed. 'It is as I said. They will be safe. I cannot promise the same for you, Fymryn.'

'I know.' Fymryn hesitated. 'Before I go, might I know your name?'

The sage was silent for a long moment, introspective and brooding. 'It has been so long since I used my name. Nobody knows it now. It is no longer relevant.' He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. 'I am the Invoker. That is who I am.'

'When should I go?'

He lifted his hand. 'Now. Make haste, Fymryn. There are forces in motion I cannot control. Find the Princess of the Moon, and her allies, and bring them here, willingly or not. Fulfil your duty to Mene, as you were born to do.'

Fymryn closed her eyes as cold light enveloped her. The tower became an empty void of nothing and she felt as if she was flying in a blizzard. All became a dark well of warm nothingness, and she remembered no more.

When she awoke, she was lying on the leafy floor of a forest vaguely familiar to her. Cradling her throbbing head, she got to her knees and groaned. 'How long was I asleep? Dyfed? Adara? Idwal?'

Nobody answered at first. Something hard was in her hand: a sapphire. A tiny point of light glowed in one corner. Though she moved the gem, the point remained in the same place.

It had not been a dream. Mene still had need of her.

Fymryn would not fail Her. This she swore.

'Fymryn!'

Fymryn only just had time to see Dyfed hurtling towards her before he swept her into a tight embrace. Anything she tried to say was muffled by his chest. Adara and Idwal hovered close, eager and expectant.

'Where did you go? What did you see?'

'Mmph!' was all Fymryn managed before he finally released her. She had to get her breath back first. 'I... I'm not actually sure what I saw.'

'You should have seen the garden!' Adara exclaimed. 'It was beautiful! I've never seen so many flowers in my life! You should have seen poor Idwal. He was sneezing so much I thought he would explode.' She giggled and nudged Idwal playfully. Idwal sniffled and wiped his nose.

'I didn't see a garden.' Fymryn murmured.

'What's that in your hand, my love?' Dyfed gently lifted her closed fist. 'Is that a... that's a sapphire! Did the sage give it to you? Is it magical?'

'It must be.' Fymryn sounded unusually pensive. 'Listen, Dyfed—'

Dyfed put his fingers to her lips to stop her. 'No. If the sage wanted to see you alone, then what he had to say was for your ears alone. I trust you, Fymryn. We all do.'

'Did he take the lotuses?' Idwal asked slowly.

Fymryn nodded. 'Yes. Yes, he did.'

'Then he will bring Mene back to us, as you said he would.' Adara's face broke into a massive grin. She was practically bouncing with joy. Unable to contain herself, she seized Idwal's arm and pulled him into a hug. 'She'll give us our homelands! We'll have a real home again!'

'You've done a great thing, Fymryn,' Dyfed scooped Fymryn into another hug, a gentler one this time, and held her close. She could feel his heart beating eagerly. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. 'I love you, Fymryn. Let us love Her together.'

Fymryn did not hold back. She knew that where she went next, he would not be able to follow. In her heart, she doubted that she would ever see him again.

If this was to be the last time she saw him, she wanted it to be free of doubt. Mene could wait for one night. She would understand.


The Invoker cleared the pool as Fymryn and Dyfed became further entangled. He did not need to see that, it was unimportant.

He gazed at the lotuses floating in the pool for a few moments, pondering the next moves. This plan had been a long time in the making, longer than many would ever believe. He had waited until the time was right, until chance and fate had provided everything he needed.

Mene had done the rest.

The Invoker waved his hand again. Fymryn was in play, and he had faith in her devotion to Mene and the blessings the true goddess had bestowed upon her. She was safe for this night, that much he knew.

It was the other players he was concerned about. Though they were technically opponents, he had not been lying when he had told Fymryn that he had need of them. In a way, they would further his plans of restoring Mene and claiming vengeance.

He had made a deal. He would honour it.

The pool showed a snowy courtyard far from his tower. Standing within was a grizzled man in black armour—armour formed from the scales of dragons.

The Invoker's face remained impassive. Internally, he was worried.

The amulet was not in possession of the handmaiden, and had not been for some time. Though he was becoming tired of watching the three humans stumble around, he had agreed to keep them alive. That was the price he had paid, all for the return of Mene and his revenge against Usurper.

Chance was not on his side now.

There were new players in this game, ones beyond his sight and control. If they interfered, his plans could all be for naught.

It was frustrating, being only able to wait and see what would happen. But he was not entirely powerless. There were things he had to do.

'Soon, little one.' He murmured these words so softly that even somebody at his side would not have heard them. 'Soon.'


The cuirass was a little tight on Davion, but the rest of the armour was a good enough fit. Mirana and Marci had decided to dump most of their stolen armour now. The thick gambesons and baggy breeches disrupted their forms enough, though they kept some of the armour for the sake of protection. The helms were a must if they wanted to leave stealthily.

They would have to be mindful of how they moved. Both women would easily be given away if anybody watched their hips when they walked.

'If we run into anybody, let me do the talking.' Davion instructed, lowering his visor.

'Won't they recognise your voice?' Mirana inquired, struggling to get her visor to lock. Marci tapped it into place.

'Hearing a woman's voice under that helmet will give us away much faster.' Davion said. 'I'll figure something out.'

'We need to hurry.' Mirana said redundantly. 'Kaden might be on his way to the cells again. He might be sending people to collect you.'

Davion involuntarily shuddered at the thought of being taken away to be cut open. Both Marci and Mirana had been disgusted to hear of Kaden's plans for Davion. Marci had been especially angry. If they ran into Kaden and had to fight, she would probably try to tear his head off.

Although Kaden had been both an inspiration and a brother to Davion, he would have gladly put his money on Marci. He did not hold her curiosity towards his body against her, she was not the first to become flustered at the sight of him so exposed. At least she did not want to dissect him.

Despite the situation, he still found it amusing. She was still a little red in the face, and not from exertion.

Davion took the lead, moving more confidently in the stolen plate than Mirana and Marci had. Since they had shed most of theirs, they were moving more quietly and efficiently.

If they ran into a patrol, Davion would try bluffing. He would tell them that he was escorting two squires to training. If they did not believe him... well, they had Marci. In the narrow corridors, she would be their best chance of survival. The confines would restrict the movement of anything larger than a dagger, but Marci needed no weapons in a scrap.

Punching a man in plate would probably break her hands, but she had taken down two plate-clad Dragon Knights easily enough. Davion had faith in her.

Hopefully Sagan would be unharmed. Without him, their chances of escaping across the Broken Peaks would be much slimmer.

Davion tried not to think about what this would mean. If he somehow survived, he would be effectively banished from the Dragon Knight Order. They might even try to hunt him down.

He knew that he was dangerous. They had every right to try to stop him. But if there was a chance he could put an end to this... curse, he had to try.

He was also indebted to Marci and Mirana. They could have tried to escape without him. They might have succeeded. He was an extra concern they could have done without, an extra mouth to feed and a dangerous one at that.

He had meant what he said. If they escaped, he would help them or die trying. They deserved that much.

They encountered no patrols as they ascended up to the hall. It was only as they entered the hall that Davion realised that something was very, very wrong.

The keep seemed to be deserted.

Marci and Mirana had come to the same conclusion. Mirana had drawn her stolen arming sword. Marci had her fists clenched at her sides.

'They know.' Davion breathed.

How was not important. What they knew was that a battalion of Dragon Knights led by Kaden was going to be waiting for them.

Marci tapped Mirana's arm and pointed. Davion followed the direction of their gazes and saw a familiar figure walk slowly into the hall, carrying a bundle of items wrapped up in a cloak.

Bram set the bundle down on the nearest table and unfurled the cloak, revealing their equipment: Mirana's bow, quiver and dagger, Marci's dagger, and Davion's warsword and gauntlet.

'They're waiting for you outside.' Bram said heavily.

Davion removed his helm and approached his squire. Poor Bram had never looked so sad or forlorn in his life. He could not bring himself to look Davion in the eye.

Davion clapped him on the shoulder. 'Thank you, Bram.'

'I let you down, Davion.'

'No. Maybe I should have just told you the truth as soon as I arrived. I should have trusted you.' Davion took up the warsword and buckled it about his waist. 'Whatever happens, Bram, know that you have been a good squire and a loyal friend. You'll make a fine Dragon Knight one day.'

Kaden wanted this to be a fair fight, or at least as fair was going to be by his standards. His men outnumbered them. Davion doubted that even Mirana's magical rain of arrows and Marci's strength could get them through this.

Knowing that disguises were now useless, Marci and Mirana ditched their stolen gear. Marci strapped the steel bracers over the sleeves of her tunic and the greaves over her boots. Mirana kept her spaulders. Davion retained all of the armour he had taken, he was going to need it.

Transforming might have made the coming battle easier, but he was not going to risk losing control. If there was no other way, he would tell Marci and Mirana to run before he let the song take its course.

Davion drew the warsword and stood by the doors. Marci stood at his side, fists raised. Mirana stood behind them, an arrow nocked.

'Davion!' Bram called. He took a moment to master himself, swallowing hard. 'Good luck.'

'You too, Bram.' He looked to Marci and Mirana. Silently, they agreed on the moment and Davion opened the doors.

As he had expected, Kaden was waiting for them in the courtyard. Around him were many Dragon Knights fully armed and armoured. They seemed to have taken every weapon from the armoury they could lay their hands on. Even the ballistae and scorpions on the walls were ready to launch their massive bolts.

Kaden held his massive greatsword against his shoulder. Davion's warsword looked tiny by comparison. 'I should have known that you would prefer to die fighting, Davion.'

'Sir Kaden,' Mirana called. 'What we seek may help Davion. If you let us go, we will do whatever we can for him.'

'Do you know what he is? What he has inside him?'

'I can guess: the blood of a dragon.'

'More than that, Priestess.' Kaden retorted. 'He has the soul of an Eldwurm joined to his. Slyrak and Davion are bound in blood. There is no turning back from that.' He lowered his visor, concealing his craggy face. 'I swore to put an end to Slyrak. If that means killing you, Davion, and your new friends, then so be it. If they stand with you, they are enemies of the Dragon Knights.'

The other Knights readied their weapons.

'Kaden,' Davion stepped forwards. 'Let us end this honourably. Let it be you and me, in single combat. Let my friends go.'

'A noble gesture, Davion. I'm glad to see that Slyrak has not corrupted you utterly. But it is only a matter of time.' Kaden shook his head. 'Look at them, Davion. They won't abandon you now. Whatever you've done to win them over, it has worked. I do not wish to kill them. But I will if I must.'

Marci stepped forwards, glaring at Kaden. Was she going to challenge him?

'I'm giving you all one chance to surrender.' Kaden warned, his voice low and deadly. 'Lay down your arms. I cannot allow Davion to go free. But I will let you leave, Priestess, with your servant and your beast. That, I promise.'

Mirana scowled and looked to Marci. Marci shook her head slowly, her expression drawn with anger. 'No, Kaden. We stand with Davion. Selemene guided him to us for a reason. His fate lies with us now. And I owe him. We both do.'

Kaden sighed and lifted a hand. The siege engines atop the wall were trained upon them.

Davion snarled with bitter frustration. Was this how it would end for them? They had fought long odds, a bandit horde, ravenous un-dead, the mountain itself, and they were going to end up being ignominiously skewered by ballista bolts! 'You're not going to give us a fair fight, are you?'

'That's not a chance I can take, Davion.' Kaden answered grimly. 'You might honour me with a duel, but Slyrak would not.' He prepared to lower his hand.

Marci moved to shield Mirana and Davion, even though she could not even hope to cover both of them. Her loyalty and devotion was incredibly touching, but there was no way she could defend them from the huge bolts which would be launched as soon as Kaden gave the order.

The ballistae used by the Dragon Knights were meant to fell dragons. The bolts they launched were six feet long, tipped with barbed steel. Capable of hitting a target from a mile away, they would bring a swift and bloody end to the trio when Kaden gave the order.

'I'm sorry it came to this, Marci.' Mirana whispered. Davion saw Marci reach back and give Mirana's hand a firm squeeze in response.

One of the ballistae twitched upwards, its bolt aimed skywards. A chilling cry went up from its crew: 'DRAGON!'

Kaden looked up as a shadow fell upon him and his men. A vast, grey winged form was descending upon the keep. Davion heard him utter one word, one name, in a hoarse croak: 'Vylgranox.'

Loose tiles and stones fell around Davion as he turned to look up at the keep. The dragon which stood atop it was a colossal creature, armoured in slabs of grey the shade of old iron.

It had to be one of the ugliest dragons Davion had ever beheld. It was also unlike any of the others he had fought.

The dragon Kaden had called Vylgranox had a wide, snake-like head with rows of sabre-like teeth protruding over the lower and upper lips. His large eyes lacked the elliptical pupils most dragons had. The bottomless black voids within were surrounded by swirling cerulean and vermilion mists. His head was crowned with an array of large antlers rather than horns. Claws as curved and sharp as scimitars sprang from his feet, the scales of which oddly reminded Davion of a chicken's feet. Two huge wings a gargoyle would have envied spread from his back, and his long body, armoured with slabs of grey scale, ended with a long, curling whip of a tail adorned with spines and barbs.

This dragon had to be an Eldwurm, and Davion had heard his name before. He had only heard of it in legends, legends which had all stated that this dragon was a myth, that this dragon could not exist.

Yet here he was, present and real before their eyes. Vylgranox: the Outcast and the Arbiter, Eldwurm Unrecognised.

The song in Davion's head had changed into a low, dull, deadly note. It was like the tolling of bells at a funeral.

'I have come for the abomination.' Davion had expected Vylgranox to have a deep, booming voice as Slyrak had. But this dragon spoke with a sibilant, sinister hiss. 'I have come to cleanse the Thunder.'

One of the ballista crews acted on impulse. 'Release!' The cry was followed by a clank and the whoosh of the bolt as it sped through the air. Vylgranox shifted to one side, hissed, and turned his snout towards the ballista and its crew. He opened his fanged maw and exhaled.

A shimmering haze spread forth and engulfed the ballista. Davion heard agonised screams and gasped as he saw the ballista begin to sizzle and disintegrate. The men who had been manning it were writhing where they stood, their skin boiling and sliding off their bones. Davion could only watch with horror as they were reduced to hissing puddles of gore.

For once in his life, Kaden hesitated. He had sworn to destroy Slyrak, which meant that Davion had to die. But there was an Eldwurm attacking his men now, and it was one he had actually dreaded facing. He had even hoped that Vylgranox was no more than a myth.

Every creature had something to fear, even dragons. Even Eldwurms.

Vylgranox was the one the other Eldwurms feared.

'Ballistae!' Kaden cried. 'Take that Eldwurm down!' He lifted his sword into a two-handed grip. 'You die here, Slyrak! You die either by my hand or the claws of Vylgranox!'

Davion gritted his teeth and lifted his own sword. He was without his draconic armour, and Kaden's scale was imbued with the mighty powers of the dragons he had felled. This would be a short fight.

Kaden charged at Davion even as Vylgranox took to the air and flew overhead, raining his lethal vapours down upon the walls around them. Davion ran forwards to meet him.

Davion lifted his sword to parry Kaden's just in time. The force of the blow buckled his knees and he knew that the next blow would be the last.

Kaden lifted his sword, his eyes just visible through his visor. They were filled with pure hatred.

Vylgranox landed on the ground behind Kaden and started to lay waste to the Dragon Knights who tried to attack him. Blood sprayed and limbs flew. Swords snapped and shattered. Men wailed and died, slashed to pieces or reduced to ruddy piles of steaming slurry.

A pair of small hands with bruised knuckles seized Kaden's arms as the sword descended. Marci did not buckle, and the hate in Kaden's eyes changed to surprise, and then to pure loathing, as Marci held his sword back. The motes of golden light were sparkling in her amber eyes.

'Freak!' Kaden spat. 'If you wish to die with the abomination, then die you shall!'

Marci was strong enough to hold him back, but she was also light enough for him to lift. He could easily kill her, and he was now more than willing to.

Davion made his choice instantly.

There was no conflict. No choosing between the Dragon Knights and his newfound allies. There was no time and no hesitation.

Kaden or Marci. The man who wanted to end his life, or the woman who had saved his life thrice and sought even the slimmest hope of saving his soul.

No contest. It was Marci.

Davion stepped around them and swung his blade into the back of Kaden's knee. Kaden yelled and stumbled, losing his balance. His armour had saved him from a crippling injury, but Davion had given Marci all the opportunity she needed.

Marci twisted and turned Kaden's weight to her advantage. With a mighty pull, she threw him over her shoulder. The stones cracked when he hit them and sprawled on his back at her feet.

Kaden snarled and tried to lift his sword.

Davion seized Marci's arm and yanked her away. He had no doubt that she could have killed Kaden, but Vylgranox had turned his attention on them now. The courtyard behind the Eldwurm was now a picture of some foul hell only the most twisted of minds could have conceived. It was a sight Davion would not forget until his days came to an end.

Kaden staggered to his feet and faced the Eldwurm. Purple light flared around him, coalescing around his massive greatsword.

Vylgranox chuckled.

The light flashed out of existence. Kaden fell to his knees, groaning and struggling to regain his feet. It was as if his armour was too heavy for him, his sword too.

Vylgranox had neutralised the power within Kaden's armour. It was now dead weight, useless, a casket of steel, scale and hide.

'You are undeserving of such power, little mortals.' Vylgranox hissed. 'And you will die as you were always meant to: helpless and pathetic, on your knees before your betters.'

Davion heard Mirana's bow sing. Out of the clouds came the now familiar rain of silver arrows. Selemene's power was one thing Vylgranox could not stop so easily, and the Eldwurm screeched as the magical darts bit into his hide.

The remaining ballistae and scorpions were turned upon the Eldwurm too. Though his scales were tougher than steel and his hide stronger than boiled leather, the Eldwurm was not invincible. Unlike the rest of his kin, Vylgranox had no soulless avatars. If he died here, it would be forever.

Emitting a hissing roar of pain and anger, Vylgranox took wing. Raining blood from where Mirana's mystical arrows had sliced his hide, and from the places where bolts now sprouted from his scales, he swooped over the roof of the keep, spraying another desultory burst of his ruinous fumes. The roof collapsed as he retreated.

Kaden groaned again and tried to stand. Marci did not give him the chance. Seizing a fallen mace, she smashed it over Kaden's helm. Kaden fell forwards and remained still. He would live, but he would have a fierce headache and an awful concussion to remember Marci by.

Marci reached down and snatched the eye-shaped amulet from Kaden's belt, concealing it under her tunic once again.

'What the hell was that thing?' Mirana demanded. 'Was that another Eldwurm?'

'He's going to come back!' Davion took her arm. 'Come on! We have to leave now!'

Vylgranox was not the only threat. Kaden had held a large group of Dragon Knights in reserve, and now they were emerging from the ruined keep.

Davion was relieved to see some squires helping Bram out into the courtyard. At least he would survive.

But now they had to run. At least Vylgranox had done some good by destroying the gates. The steel and wood bulwarks now lay as hissing puddles and their escape was unblocked and unguarded.

Marci hurtled into the stables first and used her dagger to cut the ropes binding Sagan. They had no time to worry about how much weight he was carrying, he was their only chance of escaping now.

Marci sprang into the saddle. Davion pushed Mirana up behind her, then swung onto the back. Marci whistled and nudged Sagan's flanks. The lunar-tiger grunted and immediately set off into his loping run.

Davion heard arrows and bolts whistle, but once again Sagan was too fast for them. Despite carrying so much weight, he pelted through the ruined archway and out across the snow at full speed.

Davion took one last look over his shoulder at the ruined keep of Weiß Wache, once a proud bastion of the Dragon Knights and a place he had considered a sanctuary.

Now he was an outcast, an abomination to be slain on sight by any former brothers he met.

Davion turned away and watched as the mountains grew closer. He would not waste the time Marci and Mirana had bought for him. He owed them too much for that.

Their mission was now his mission, and it seemed that it was his only chance for salvation.