This is a fan translation of Wrong Time for Dragons (Не время для драконов) by the Russian science fiction and fantasy authors Sergei Lukyanenko and Nick Perumov.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Note: Footnotes can be found at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 20
"Why are you hesitating?" Loy looked at him demandingly. "Victor! Look! To the south!"
Something was moving far away on the horizon. Bulging, turning black, sparkling with a fiery web of lightning.
"A storm?"
Loy shook her head. The wind was ruffling her hair, surrounding her face with a golden cloud.
"Not just a storm, Victor! It's an invasion! The Naturalborn have moved against the Middle World!"
Victor threw an involuntary glance at Telle. Maybe looking for support or an annoyed shake of the head to indicate that Loy was imagining things…
The girl was biting her lips and staring into the distance. Her eyes were flickering with a fierce yellow fire. Her fists were clenched.
"Yes," she whispered, feeling Victor's gaze. "Yes…"
Loy seemed to have changed. No, that wasn't fear in her face, it was bewildered expectation. Confusion.
"Victor, what are you waiting for? This gap is nothing to you. As are these walls. You need to enter the castle! Finish what you started! Telle, say something to him! Telle!"
The girl was silent. Maybe she didn't believe that Victor would be able to do anything.
He shook himself and looked at the gap again.
It was easy, if he were being honest… All he had to do was reach down, to the distant stone plateau, to the rocky platform, to the roots of the earth. Raise new firmament from the chasm. Straighten out the entire island, flatten it into a pancake. Or, even easier, throw an aerial bridge over it. Walk up to the black walls and strike with a fiery wall, an aerial wedge, a water ram…
With all the obedient fury, with all the strength given to the Slayer.
To complete the circle. To take all the Power. And to meet the approaching hordes, for he had no intention of giving them the Middle World. To meet the one whose body was ringing with flexible steel over the eagle-headed ships. It wasn't time yet for the sheepdog to send the herd to the slaughter! The wolf hadn't yet gone into the woods.
All he had to do was raise his hand and give the order…
"The Dragon is coming," Telle said mockingly and bitterly. "The Dragon is coming, Victor. Who's going to meet it? The broken mages of beaten clans?"
Loy took the girl by the shoulders and nodded, "Well? Did you hear? Even she understands!"
The white domes of the Castle over the World began to glimmer. The silvery light was growing in strength, as if in defiance of the coming storm.
"No," Victor said. "I understand… but this isn't the way."
Loy turned in fury, raised her hand, indicating the south. And froze.
"Slayer!"
The shout came from the shore. Far below them, at the start of the road, the Air mage, the former Dragonslayer, Ritor raised his hands. His voice, picked up by the wind, was striking their ears.
"Slayer! I'm not letting you complete my path! No!"
"Quit it, you idiot!" Loy stood at the very edge of the cliff. "You don't—"
The air howled when Ritor struck. It was so unexpected and strong that Victor was impressed while falling and sliding on the stones. He was a master, that mage who'd gone mad with failure, and even his Power, of which he had way more than Victor, couldn't change the situation.
Sliding across the amber yellowness of the road, Victor saw the walls of the Castle over the World fill with bloody reflections. He saw his own aerial shields fall apart, unable to resist the assault of Ritor's spells.
What to do…
Loy screamed when a gust of wind blew her off the cliff. Down, to the turns of the road… Telle, stretching out in an impossible leap, managed to grab onto Victor's shoulders and hung off him, sobbing and digging her nails into his skin.
Another blow of the wind, another push, and the two of them rolled off the yellow band.
Loy was lying on the previous turn of the road, maybe twenty meters below them. Strangely enough, she was alive. The mage was already getting up, shaking her head and bending under the push of the storm. From that high up and with no fractures? Cat…
But they had far more to go.
Obeying Ritor, the air didn't let them fall straight down. It was dragging, pulling them at an angle, towards the shore, to the feet of the triumphant mage. Victor tried to use magic, to spread his aerial wings…
No.
Ritor was laughing while watching Victor's fruitless attempts. The old mage could probably see them plain as day. He'd taken this path himself, having gone up the spiral and struck the walls, breaking into the Castle over the World.
And accepted the Slayer initiation.
"You can do it!" Telle shouted. "You can!"
The wind tried to tear them apart, spun the two gripping bodies, punched between them like a wedge, a pillow…
A pillow?
Victor didn't try to spread the wings anymore. He waited for the coastal stones to be almost there and, in a single effort, pulled a firm aerial lens under him. It was firm, soft…
Ritor screamed, jerking away and shielding his face, as if what Victor had done shocked him. The aerial lens popped, throwing Victor down, with Telle on top of him, making him belatedly happy at this stroke of fortune.
"No, no, no!" Ritor was shouting, stepping back. The storm was fading, either the old man had used up all he had, or… "Why, why were you able to do it?!"
Victor got to his feet, supporting Telle. The girl seemed to be a little out of it.
"What do you want, Ritor?"
The Air mage twisted as if in pain.
"You, Slayer! Your life!"
"Is it really for you to take it, Ritor? Ritor the Dragonslayer!"
"I've cursed that moment!" Ritor lifted his gray head proudly, as if there was valor in his repentance alone. "And I'm going to atone for my guilt by stopping you!"
"Why? Where is the Dragon you're trying to protect? Over there?" Victor nodded at the swirling clouds.
"The Dragon will come. The real Dragon! The one who will stop the Naturalborn, who will protect the Middle World!"
"Right now, only the Created Dragon is coming!"
"What do you know about it, Slayer?"
"Enough to realize that you can't fight it!" Victor shook Telle, looked her in the eye, but the girl didn't react. "Hold on… she's not a part of our argument…"
Ritor nodded reluctantly. Victor placed Telle onto the stones, not tearing his gaze away from Ritor, just in case.
The mage waited. Patiently, not trying to attack. Either he was gathering his strength, or maybe it really was still possible to talk to him.
"I don't want to hurt anyone, Ritor!" Victor was trying to speak as sincerely as possible. "Even you! Even though your pack tried to kill me… even though there's innocent blood on your hands…"
"The train station was your crime!"
"I couldn't do anything, Ritor! I couldn't control myself!"
"And you never will…" Ritor's voice fell, turning into a whisper. "It's always stronger than you… always, believe me… And even if you slay the Created Dragon, you're not going to stop. I know…"
There was the shadow of compassion in his eyes for a moment.
And then he struck.
The already familiar aerial spear, like a needle woven from the winds. And this time he wasn't able to deflect the blow.
Pain. Tearing at his chest, piercing him. He was thrown onto the stones, pressed, and the roaring stream pressed at his face. Pouring into his lungs, bursting. He couldn't even scream, he could only swallow the compressed air, his tearing body bleeding out, dying…
"Idiot!"
Loy Iver leapt down to the stones. She waved her hand, and the mage's clothes were suddenly painted red. The wind squealed and began to quiet.
"What are you doing, Ritor?!"
"Ah! The traitor!"
Maybe he thought that the coughing, spitting, chest-clutching Victor was down for the count. Or maybe his attention could no longer be held by two opponents at once. The pressing weight disappeared. Victor tried to stand and fell back onto the stones. Everything inside him was on fire. His lungs seemed to have burst.
Loy and Ritor were circling right at the edge of the water. The female mage had her hands out predatorily, her fingers bent like animal claws. Ritor, hissing in pain, was pressing his left hand to his chest with a dark red stain spreading on his clothes. Loy's strike had struck home after all.
"I'm going to kill you, Cat," the mage wheezed with such hatred that it seemed as if the Slayer's strength was once again inside him.
"Moron!" Loy squealed. "Don't you dare, or—"
"Silence!" Ritor barked.
"Run, Victor! I'm going to hold off this madman! Aaah!" Bending low, Loy leapt forward, swung, but, instead of striking, grabbed at Ritor's feet.
"Run, Victor!"
Run where? Why? Back up the golden bends, back to the black walls of the Castle over the World?
The thought whether he ought to run and leave Loy and Telle behind didn't even come up. He had to.
Bending low and holding his side, Victor ran. The road stretched right into the surf; he ran into the waves. Raising fountains of sprays, he ran around the dark side of the cliffs; the bottom remained even and didn't drop.
That was what he'd thought…
The amber slabs dove out of the water, turning into a second way up.
He ran. Up the second road that led to the rainbow bridge. This spiral circled to the south, towards the approaching clouds. He could already see that the storm front unnaturally even and was approaching far faster than any ordinary storm would.
Behind him, Ritor and Loy were rolling around on the stones. They weren't using magic, there was no time for that in a scuffle. Loy was a lot more flexible and nimble, but Ritor turned out to be too strong even for her. Every time he ended up on top of her, he struck the Cat's head on the stones.
"He's… not going to reach…" Ritor pressed Loy down once again and then froze.
Torn was standing next to them.
It seemed as if the Watery one wasn't interesting in their fight at all. He was looking at the running Victor, who was already on his second turn up the spiral road. He was running heavily, pausing and throwing glances downward.
Torn's face looked pained, as if he was running next to Victor.
Ritor froze, letting the stunned Loy drop. He raised his hand, putting his hand into the sign of Air Power.
"Forget it, Ritor," Torn said without turning. "It's too late to kill one another. Look, the Naturalborn are getting close…"
The Air mage hesitated, holding a nascent hurricane on the tips of his fingers.
"Forget revenge, Ritor. As you can see, I'm not trying to get him…" Torn nodded in Victor's direction. "It's too late to make personal plans, we have to use what fate has given us."
"Reach? Him?" Ritor laughed. "You'd never harm him!"
"Why not?" the other mage asked in surprise. "I might have tried it now. But the Naturalborn…"
He finally looked at Ritor.
"Let's—"
Whatever he wanted to offer to his sworn enemy would remain unheard. The water at the shore boiled and parted in a round wave. A narrow rocky pillar was rising from the depths. It was gleaming, as if covered in grease. Andrzej was crouching atop the pillar that was crawling up.
"No!" Torn shouted. "Don't!"
The Earth mage didn't hear his ally. Stretching out to his full short stature, he was whispering spells.
The island shook. A heavy shudder passed through the cliffs. Both Ritor and Torn were thrown to the ground. It was even worse for Victor, as the yellow road was starting to collapse, sliding down in entire layers. A rockfall was coming down the slopes in a golden wave. Pressing himself against the cliff, the future Slayer waited it out.
It seemed that this time Andrzej had decided to sacrifice destructive power by using a simpler spell. But he had failed to account for Earth magic not being particularly precise.
The pillar he'd risen from the sea on shook and broke in half. Bending awkwardly, Andrzej jumped into the water. He dove out right away, and the falling stones were carefully avoiding hitting the floundering mage. He swam to the shore, furiously pounding the water with his hands.
Torn shook his head in desperation.
Andrzej didn't seem to understand what had happened. He took the loss of his foothold as Victor's retaliatory strike. Shivering, the mage leapt out onto the shore and stared at Torn, but it seemed that there was no approval in the Watery one's gaze.
The Earth mage ran to Ritor.
The Airy one stepped back, but Andrzej had no intention of attacking. He gripped the edge of his cloak and shouted, "Ritor, I beg for your assistance! Assistance and protection! You, my enemy!"
Torn, turned away, grimacing. He looked at Victor, who was standing in front of the collapsed road. He kept stepping forward and back, hesitating to jump. Torn slowly raised his hand, and a blue lump appeared in his hand. It looked as if the mage was hesitating, unwilling to strike. His gaze kept switching between the approaching storm clouds and the frozen in indecision Victor.
The man on the cliff crouched, pushed off, and lifted into the sky.
Torn, still hesitating, watched him go. Then he swung, and the charge harmlessly struck the cliffs, grinding them into sand.
The mages lifted their heads.
Victor was flying, approaching the cliff pad. At times, his body twisted, as if trying to head straight for the castle. And each time an unknown force deflected him.
"That's it," Torn said. "Hey! Why don't we accept the inevitable and help Victor meet the invasion?"
Ritor tore the Earth mage's hands away from him and shook his head. He spread his hands, and his Power howled in desperate effort.
Rising from the stones, Loy spat blood from her busted mouth, stared at the Airy one, and leapt onto his back.
But it was no longer possible to stop Ritor. It seemed the remains of the Slayer's strength were still there. He managed to lift into the air regardless. Elbowing Loy, who was dangling off him, Ritor was flying after Victor.
Torn, slumped and aged, walked up to the lying girl. He crouched, peered into her face, and clicked his tongue.
"What… what invasion?" Andrzej grated.
"Help me," Torn said without turning. "The Unknown one has used up all her strength fueling Victor. Didn't expect her to actually be younger than him…"
"What Unknown one? What invasion?" Andrzej's voice was jerky, prickly. "What are you talking about, Torn?"
Looking at the girl's face, he scowled.
"The Unknown one? Here she is." An even blue light was streaming from Torn's hand into Telle's face. "Did you really think they all died along with the Masters?"
"Ritor let one go…"
"And another one was biding her time in the Middle World…" Torn pulled his hand away. Telle opened her eyes and was looking at him with weariness and confusion. "As for the invasion… look to the south, Andrzej…"
Squinting, the mage looked at the horizon.
"A storm…"
"The ships of the Naturalborn are at the heart of it," Torn rose. "It's too late to worry about old scores. Help me meet their fleet."
Andrzej's eyes suddenly flared in fear, "There… there… I feel…"
"The Created Dragon…" Telle's voice was still weak. "It's coming. It's the center of the strength. Only a Winged Master can stop it…"
"Andrzej, will you help me?"
The Earth mage was nervously kneading his chin with his yellowish fingers.
"I need a special spell…"
"Then weave it, Dragon eat you!" Torn barked. "Raise the reefs from the bottom! Something!"
"I need… I need… to get back… To the main temple… only there I can…" Andrzej was muttering incoherently.
Torn shook him by the shoulders.
"Come to your senses, mage! Your strength is a lot greater here!"
"I… I need to refresh something in my memories… then I'll come here… I need calm, concentration, focus on the details…"
Torn swung in anger.
"Don't you dare!" the Earth mage screeched in a high-pitched voice.
"Bastard…" Torn got closer. "I dare! I'm going to say and do anything I—"
That was his mistake. Andrzej nimbly leapt to the side, lifted both hands, and shouted out a spell. Probably out of fear he'd woven it short and effective. The coastal stones came together into a short staircase that led straight into the water. The Earth mage ran onto it, the waves parted obediently, and he was gone a moment later.
"That dirty…" Torn spat on the ground. "Unknown one, can you stand? It seems the two of us will have to meet the Naturalborn fleet."
He bent down, proffering a hand to Telle in an unintentionally gallant gesture. She didn't push it away.
"You did well, Unknown one," the Water mage said, staring at the rapidly darkening horizon, as an unbroken curtain of raging tornadoes was moving towards them. "Managing to trick everyone! Even me! And probably Victor himself too. This is it, right? He won't be able to do anything?"
Telle shrugged.
"What about you, Unknown one?"
"Yes."
"But the Keeper—"
"Don't worry, Water mage. We'll meet their fleet. And the Created Dragon too. We'll hold them off as long as we can. But I'm asking you… kill me if we fail. I don't want that created monster to get me."
Torn stared at the stormy south for several seconds.
"I swear to you, Unknown one. If I'm still alive by that point. But I'm going to try not to let it get to that…"
"I'm the one who's going to have to try," Telle said quietly.
The stone pad at the top looked like a regular pentagon. A pentagram that had appeared even with the Castle over the World in time immemorial. Victor hover over it for a moment, like an athlete in a jump of incredible height.
Then the black rocks dashed towards him.
The magic hadn't vanished. Victor could still feel the four elements. But this wasn't enough here.
This was the source.
Half of the sky was now a roaring inferno. Maybe storms like that happened in the Underside too, but his mind was refusing to accept what was happening as reality. The storm was moving straight at the island, bowing slightly, taking it into a half-circle. Some deep forces were still resisting the assault but doing it sluggishly, without support from anyone's living will.
The stones of the pad had been polished by the wind almost to the same sheen as the walls of the Castle over the World. Only occasionally they were cut up by deep furrows, as if something… someone… had been plunging his claws that were stronger than stone into when falling from a great height.
Plunging in order to break a rapid flight. Then shook his mighty body and folder his wings.
And walked to the castle on that thin rainbow bridge that was barely able to support a person.
Walls black as night,
The white dome gleams.
Let grief disappear
From this fortress of dreams…
Azure waves splash,
Honey pours from up high,
Children of cloudland
Are starting to fly…
And don't even wonder
What is dream and what's real,
Just don't ever forget
One in charge knows the deal…
The day has a master,
The night will oppress,
But keys to the fire
Only one may possess…
Flesh of your flesh,
In the sky where you reign,
The master of dreams
On the bridge stands again…
One who carries the burden,
On this path must embark,
Everything you've gone through
This moment must mark… [Footnote 1]
Dragons used land there.
Their wings embraced the air, their throat exhaled flames, water foamed at the shores, stones groaned under their weight.
Already in their human guise, they would walk across the rainbow bridge into their nest, their castle, their home…
As if forgetting who he was, Victor took a step to the colorful band and heard a scream behind him.
Ritor and Loy, who was still gripping him, were falling onto the pad. The Cat was hitting the mage in the face, keeping his neck in a hold, as if she was prepared to fall to her death but would take him with her.
Ritor wasn't giving in.
They fell onto the stones together, intertwined like lovers. Loy leapt away from the mage and got ready. Victor saw sharp shadows flare on the tips of her fingers.
And then Ritor, who hadn't yet had time to fold his aerial wings, waved his hand.
A sheet of Wind struck the woman, crushing her into the stone. Loy didn't have time to do anything dude to the monstrous might of the folding wing. Her scream faded, carried away by the wind.
The head of the Cat Clan was lying in a position no living person could be. Even a mage. Her neck was twisted at an odd angle, her spine was snapped.
Loy Iver was dead.
"You…" Ritor walked to Victor, as if he was the one who had a reason to be filled with hatred, as if it was his friend and lover now lying dead on the cold stones. "It's your fault! Everything is!"
"I was only coming here, Ritor! I was just coming where I was supposed to go!"
The strength of the Slayer was howling and trying to break free, it was looking for a way out.
But, for some reason, he couldn't give it the chance now.
"You've won, didn't you?" Ritor glanced at the black sky. "The Dragon didn't come! I was chasing you… I gave all my strength… I sacrificed people… But I didn't find the Dragon! Our world is defenseless! They're coming… they're going to turn into new rulers of this world, into new dreams and fears. And we will go away. For good!"
He could've said, "How are you any better?!" He could've argued, mocked.
"Do you want to stop them?" Victor shouted, indicating the approaching black front.
He could already sense the heart of the incoming Power. In a short while, the Power was going to fall apart. Be humanized here, at the Fault of the World. For some, it would turn into eagle-headed ships, for others, it would be night fears, a haunting longing, a pressing, maddening nightmare of nights and days… And who knew how many veins would be cut by razors just to escape that terror?"
"It's too late!" Ritor shouted.
The wind was fluttering the mage's cloak, no longer obeying him. Only the sunken eyes on his tormented face continued to live. There was no more hatred remaining in the gaze aimed at Victor. Just piercing melancholy and hopeless sadness.
"You've won, Slayer! Is that what you wanted? To drain my strength? To keep me from finding the Dragon? You've won! But what are you going to do with your victory?"
Ritor laughed, raising his hands to the dark low sky. The storm was gathering strength, it was tearing the veil of clouds and sewing it back up with the needles of lightning. There was no more sunlight, there was nothing but a string of flashes that made gestures look broken, like in a strobe light.
"What will you do with your Power, Slayer?"
A ball lightning garland was suspended across the sky. Lumps of flame were flickering, sometimes fading and then again filled with a blinding light. Tight cords of twisters spun as a ghostly glow behind them, tearing out the flesh of the ocean. And farther yet, still unseen but already felt, was Power.
"Will there be a place for you in their world?"
The cliffs shuddered. The spasm ran through the very roots of the earth, tearing out mountains and crushing plains. Far below them, along the shore covered in roiling foam, Torn and Telle were running. Victor glanced at them, as if trying to hear a belated reply or ask them for something. But the wind roared, not giving any answers, and the raging ocean was no longer obeying the Water mage. A wave struck, and Telle slid along the stones. Torn paused and caught her by the arm, trying to hold her.
"Their world won't exist," Victor said.
The cliffs were crumbling under their feet. Only the Castle over the World remained motionless, as if the strength of the ancient rulers was still protecting it. Reflections of lightning bolts were dancing on the black stone of the walls, the domes were glowing with a matte white light. The open gate was drawing him in with the ghostly illusion of safety.
"You can't stop them, Slayer!" Ritor shook his head. "Even if you slay the Dragon!"
The sky burst into flame.
A fiery dot flared in the distance. A bloody star that was rushing over the sea. Rain started to fall, cold, sharp, freezing.
"In the name of the four elements…" Victor broke off. No, that wasn't it! This wasn't the land of the dead, and it wasn't for him to place the Gray Limits, to seal worlds…
For him?
But he hadn't been the one to place the Gray Limits, right?
At that moment, Loy, the dead Loy, began to move! Ritor either didn't see it or no longer cared. The Cat's broken body shifted, bent, and started taking on its former graceful shape in a short spasm. A moment later, the redhaired woman lifted her head and threw a quick angry glare at the Air mage, "You're going to pay for my seventh life, Ritor!"
The wind was tearing off the last shreds of fabric off her body, and, as out of place as it was, Victor felt a wave of attraction. Loy seemed to sense it. She turned and gave him grateful smile, "Why are you just standing there, Victor? Run!"
He still didn't understand.
"To the castle, moron!" Loy dashed to him. Her movements were still clumsy and jerky. "To the castle, Master! Don't just stand there, Dragon!"
Ritor lifted his head, threw a mad look at Loy, then stared at Victor. He raised his hand, as if shielding himself.
Loy turned to him, "You've sensed your blood in him, Ritor! How is it that you didn't see the rest? What, did you try to chase that moment from your memories?"
"No!" Ritor shouted. "No! It can't be!"
Loy pushed Victor and indicated the bloody star floating in the sky… No, not a star anymore, a comet…
"Make your choice, Victor! Choose, Slayer-Dragon! What do you want? What will you become?"
The cliffs moved. Layers of the golden stone started to fall down into the roiling waves, onto the path on which Torn and Telle were running up. They couldn't make it to the Castle over the World… almost.
"Do you want her to have to do it?" Loy peered into Victor's eyes. "The Unknown Clan doesn't have all the Power! Don't send your woman into battle, Dragon! She'll die!"
Victor ran. On the sliding stones, on the crumbling road. The rainbow bridge was melting under the gusts of wind, the icy streams of the rain were weaving a wall in front o him. He dove into the current, wondering where so much water had come from. It wasn't possible for the sky to hold that much moisture. He was being knocked away, dragged, he wasn't running anymore, swimming through the thick suspension of water and air. Victor was being dragged to the cliff, and he suddenly realized that he wouldn't be able to avoid it, that Loy had been too late, that Ritor's mad fury had taken away those minutes he could've used to make it to the castle and touch the black walls…
The water fell away. As if a huge invisible umbrella had been opened over the road. Below, on the path, Torn wasn't running anymore. He was standing, swaying, raising his hands overhead, desperately trying to hold the torn sky. Telle paused for a moment, glanced at the mage, and then continued running. To the Castle over the World, to the black stone walls and the open gate…
Don't send your woman into battle, Dragon…
Victor ran across the rainbow bridge. The interwoven light under his feet that only a moment earlier seemed as firm as the ground was now tearing and bending, just like the ground. Sprays of glowing fog were rising from under him, piercing the air with colorful sparks. They were now equidistant from the castle: Telle running up the path and Victor coming down the bridge.
"Stop!" Victor called out. "Stop!"
She didn't hear him. Or no longer believed in him…
Victor slipped. The bridge was melting. The canvas of light was twisting, parting under his feet. The quivering ground far below was pulling him and waiting.
He fell through. He was walking through iridescent jelly, submerged up to his waist. His feet were no longer finding purchase. The crimson comet in the sky roared, opening its gaping maw…
He felt a blow. A push at his back. A tight wing of the wind picked him up and tossed him forward, through the vanished bridge, over the chasm. Behind him, Ritor fell, grabbing on to the rocks with his bent fingers. The mage had given everything left at the bottom of his soul, trying to fix his mistake, paying for what happened between him and the woman of the Unknown Clan who'd gone to the Underside, for the pointless pursuit of his own grandson, for the lost minutes that would decide everything.
Victor fell at Telle's feet. The blow knocked the breath out of him, and pain pierced his body. But Telle hadn't been expecting that either, ending up tripping over him and rolling on the stones. Victor caught her hand, tugged her, and shouted, "No!"
"Let me go! I have to—"
"No! The last of the Unknown Clan, I forbid you!"
The girl was trying to free herself, gasping for breath. Victor met her gaze and whispered with just his lips, "This is my world, Telle."
The sky was filling with blood. Lightning bolts were pounding the shore. The wind howled, sending the whips of the tornadoes onto the Dragon Isle.
"Renewal…" the rain whispered. "Rebirth…" the storm echoed. "New, new, new…" the lightning bolts drew.
"It's my decision," Victor said, releasing Telle's weakened hand, and turned to the gate of the Castle over the World.
The Keeper was standing at the threshold.
He'd looked different in Victor's dreams. Very different, definitely not as a fragile-looking teenager with his black hair fluttering in the wind. And yet he recognized him…
"Give me my Power," Victor said, stepping towards the Castle over the World.
"Do you have the right?" the Keeper asked in the voice of Glutton, who was now much younger.
"I am!"
"All right. Prove it."
"I have the right."
Victor felt a wall appear in front of him. It was monolithic and invisible, expecting. That poor wall…
"I have the right, for there is the blood of Masters in me…"
First step…
"I have the right, for there is the blood of the Dragonslayer in me…"
Second step…
"I have the right, for the Unknown Clan, the keepers of the foundations, has summoned me…"
Third step…
"I have the right, for the guards of the Limits have given their lives for me…"
Fourth step…
"I have the right, for I have accepted the power of the elements…"
Fifth step…
"I have the right, for I have rejected the way of the Naturalborn…"
The Keeper was now very close.
"I have the right, for my friends and enemies are with me, my love and hatred are with me. This is my world."
He touched the black stone walls.
"And you will take it all?" Glutton shook his head. "Life and death? Worship and contempt? You will accept the responsibility?"
"I will."
"You will decide the fears and dreams of the Underside? What they will be for the Naturalborn? How they will pass through the Middle World?"
"I will. Give me back my Power, Keeper!"
The sky exploded in a white glow. Bolts of lightning wove a fiery web, trying to embrace the world. The island shuddered, rising from the boiling water.
The Created Dragon, soaring in the sky, roared. Its steel wings cut through the air, its flaming maw opened, expelling a river of napalm. Its gleaming claws straightened, aiming at its rival.
Victor reached out.
With his entire armored body.
From the sharp whip of his tail to the tips of his fingers.
The Master of the Middle World soared over the Dragon Isle.
Below, on the path, Torn, grimacing in contempt, was sitting under the rain and catching the cold drops with his lips.
Loy Iver, naked, seductive, and alive, was holding Ritor's head on her lap. He was whispering something in impotent delirium and staring up into the sky. She was shaking her head in surprise.
At the gate of the Castle of the World, a white unicorn shook its golden mane.
The eagle-headed ships of the Naturalborn that were crawling behind the walls of the twisters froze when, high up in the sky, the Dragon Master met the Created Dragon.
Footnotes
1) Lyrics of the song "Children of the Cloudland" by AURA (translated by me).