Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) (6 page)

“Yet, Ilfedo has grown proficient with the sword,” Starfire said. “Surely no one can stand against him now.”

Albino swung his head around, facing her. “Do not be so certain. He handled himself magnificently, yes, but his greatest challenges lie ahead. The true tests of his strength have not yet come.”

A cold shiver ran down her spine. What did the dragon know that she did not? “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

“Not now. Not here. First, we must finish what we came here for.”

He wrapped his hand around her shoulders and looked again at Gabel’s burial stone. “Trust me,” he said. “Trust me.”

She backed away with a bow and smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, Father, I did not mean to doubt you.”

The dragon grasped the stone with one hand and removed it. Gabel’s linen-wrapped body lay inside, the sword rested upon him, and the crown was over it on his chest. “Hello, my friend.” Albino reached in and picked up the corpse. “Starfire, my daughter, take his weapon and the crown. It is time for us to leave.”

With great difficulty she dragged out the sword and then hefted the crown. “See you soon,” she said. As she bowed her head to go, his jaw dropped. “Not even a good-bye kiss?”

She walked up to him, waited as he lowered his elegantly boned head, and kissed him tenderly on his scarred cheek. Then she bowed her head again, and her hair caught fire. The flames spread, instantly covering her body. The city and the dragon vanished around her, and she set her mind on a familiar place.

A chamber materialized around her, and she gazed past the blue marble pillar at its center to the bodies of the warriors of the past, all wrapped in linen and suspended from the ceiling.

“Draconis? Are you awake?” She grunted under the weight of the articles she carried.

From high above a pair of lanterns appeared, and a black form let itself to the floor by means of a thick webbing. A hunching black man stepped to the edge of her circle of light and held up his reptilian arm to shield his ebony eyes from her flaming garment. He wore black armor emblazoned with a white dragon on the breastplate. His curly black hair hung in dreadlocks past his shoulders. The back side of his arms had some sort of scales pointed outward in a vicious line. Gooey webbing dripped from secretion points between the scales. His arms reminded her of a spider, but as he stood and blinked down at her, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by his gentle power. He had to be about eight feet tall when standing straight.

Draconis clacked his claw fingers together and stooped, grabbing the giant’s sword and then the crown. His gaze darted to the ceiling; he pointed his free arm upward and webbing shot from between the scales, catching on the stones above. He swung himself into the darkness, and soon a new cocoon slid into view.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait here.” She sighed. A series of clicks answered her. “Thank you,” she said and lay next to the pillar. Ilfedo’s face filled her mind and she wept. How she longed to rejoin him. But this life she now lived was no life at all. She’d already died. And the dead could not dwell with the living, or so she’d been told. At least she’d found some solace in meeting her daughter.

Patient the shepherd had spoken of her curse, but with a twinkle in his eye had added, “God rejoices in giving his children all the desires of their hearts. Do not cease to hope, child. We serve a merciful Creator of love.”

Dantress Starfire slept.

As Specter strode down the highway through Netroth, the white dragon loomed out of a tomb with the linen-wrapped body of a giant under its arm. Kneeling, Specter waited. The creature’s footfalls shook the street, and it roared as it approached. When it stood before him, he gazed up into its pink eyes. The creature set the body on a nearby stone.

“I sense something is wrong.” The dragon slapped its tail on the highway, cracking the stones. “Tell me. Is the traitor dead? Did he turn on us once again?”

“Yes, my master. Auron turned upon us as soon as he left the city. But he . . .”—Specter clenched his fist—“he escaped.”

The dragon raised its eyes and cocked its head to the side, returning his gaze. “A traitor who once escaped my justice and was spared it by thee. Tell me where he roams, and I will bring you to him so that you may end his miserable existence.”

Specter shook his head. The portal into which Auron had passed to that strange land of ice and snow—to his knowledge no such place existed in this world. Either he’d seen an illusion, or some part of the world lay beyond his knowledge. With all the journeys he had taken, he found that hard to accept.

A warm dragon claw touched the side of his head, and he watched Albino’s eyes close. “A forest—Auron fled there.” Smoke wafted from the dragon’s nostrils. “Underground? No, he went farther—a portal to—” The dragon’s eyes sprang wide open, and he pulled back his claw. He blasted a nearby stone block with flames. Around he paced, smashing huge stones with his scaled fist. Then he roared with such force that the highway seemed to resonate with the sound, and Specter covered his ears.

For a while longer the dragon fumed. Specter cowered. Never had he seen the mighty creature respond this way to a dredged-up memory.

“Bring me to him, Master, and I will slay him!”

Albino growled. “No, Specter, for the place that traitor has entered is far beyond your talents. Auron has escaped, for now.”

“Then you know that place? The mountains of ice?”

“Indeed I do. But I fear nothing can pull the traitor from those mountains.” Smoke puffed from his nostrils, and flames played between his teeth. “Ancient are those mountains and deadly powerful is the adversary who dwells therein. But I will not speak of him now.

“Auron has escaped, and I have a task for Starfire. Letrias, it seems, has learned of a well-guarded secret and has made advances to take advantage of his knowledge.”

“Letrias!” At last, Specter thought, an opportunity to confront the master traitor.

“Letrias sent a minion, a sorceress, to an ancient portal. Patient and I had thought only we two knew of its existence, but somehow the sorceress knew, and she used my own flames to open a passage to a hidden realm.”

Specter stood and frowned.

The dragon continued. “Long ago a key was forged by the greatest prophet, the Key of Living Fire. Do you know of which prophet I speak?”

Specter nodded slowly.

“After I killed Hermenuedis, the dragon Valorian led the remainder of his armies in an assault that destroyed a once-beautiful human city.” The dragon growled. “He wanted the Key of Living Fire but was instead entombed in the city by the power he sought. The prophet placed Valorian and his host in a state of endless sleep from which he is meant never to awaken. All the wizards believe Valorian was killed, but Patient and I know the truth.

“Besides this, the key controls the power of Living Fire and, should it be taken, the weapon that I gave to Ilfedo Matthaliah will fail him. The sword would be like any other, and he would fall.”

“What would you have me do?”

Albino rumbled deep in his throat. “The sorceress must not reach the key. Should she somehow unlock the powers in that realm and deliver the key to Letrias—no, that must not happen. I desire you to again protect my daughter.”

“If I may ask, Master.” Specter leaned on his scythe handle, grasping it in both hands. “What of Oganna?”

“It is my will that she not become involved on this mission. She should stay in the Hemmed Land. I have chosen to entrust her father with this task. He will deal with the sorceress.”

“But she could prove to be a valuable asset on a quest of this nature—”

“No!” The dragon snapped its enormous mouth within inches of his face. “She must not be part of this mission. Only as a last recourse would I send her there, for she is too valuable. The future of mankind rests with
her
.”

With a low bow, Specter stepped away from the dragon.

The creature sighed and gazed upon him. “You have done well in protecting my offspring, even slaying the specter of Death himself. But you have served me longer than necessary. Come!”

The dragon grasped the body of the giant in his claws and lumbered up the highway. It roared at the citadel, then shook its head and leaped into the air. Rapidly its wings drew it into the sky, then it angled around, fast descending toward him. Each time its membranous wings struck against the wind they clapped like thunder, sending reverberations for miles around. He clutched his cloak tight around his body as the dragon’s foot grasped him. As the creature pulled him into the sky, light gathered to it, the clouds parted, and in a flash it shot away.

The journey to Emperia took only a short time. Specter’s shoulders ached by the time they shot over the dragon’s white palace. The dragon reached a mountain beyond the palace and struck his wings against his descent. Specter dropped onto the stony ledge and bent his knees to absorb the shock of that fall. Albino landed as lightly as a bird, the sunlight highlighting his membranous wings. Placing the king of Burloi in one wing, it wrapped the body in it and lowered its head. It stepped into the cave beyond the ledge, and its footfalls made the mountain tremble. The dragon’s scales glowed, lighting their path. Specter followed the dragon prophet deep into the mountain, across the bridge that spanned the underground river, and through the stone doorway beyond.

At last they stood in the familiar chamber, and there by the pillar at the room’s center lay the dragon’s favored daughter. Dantress slept, apparently unaware that her father and former guardian had entered the room.

Albino set the giant’s linen-wrapped body on the floor and smiled upon Dantress. The cool chamber’s silent darkness drew Specter’s gaze to the many bodies entombed here. He had once rested here, like them. Except for one big difference. “I did not die that day, my master. Did I?”

With a swift turn, the dragon stared down at him. Its pink eyes roved the capsules, perhaps recalling the identity of each occupant.

A dark figure descended from the ceiling. Black webbing trailed from its arms.

Taking a backward jump, Specter brandished his scythe’s blade. “What in Osira is going on in this place? What is that thing?”

He stepped toward the creature, but the dragon’s hand struck his chest and held him back, gently but firmly.

The black humanoid wrapped Burloi’s dead king in webs. It held the body up with one arm while gooey webbing was secreted from the other to entwine the carcass. When a thick net covered the body, the humanoid grabbed the hanging webs and spider-climbed into the shadows. As it disappeared, it raised the giant’s body behind it toward the bodies suspended along the walls.

“Do not fear him,” the dragon rumbled. “As you serve me in secret, so does Draconis. And as you were still alive when I brought you here all those years ago, so too did Draconis preserve you until I had need and awakened you. As you have accurately deduced, you did not die at the traitors’ hands. Rather, a flicker of your life survived just long enough for me to pull you from death.

The dragon heaved a sigh as it gazed upon Dantress again. “The Creator bestowed a great blessing on you, Specter. You should have died that day. Here in this chamber lie many great warriors, some stronger than you. But every one of them awaits a life of service. A glorious service to be sure, but they have lost the opportunity to live among those they love and participate in that life. You, on the other side, never passed through death.”

The dragon nuzzled Dantress with its snout, and the young woman stirred.

3

AN ANGEL CALLED MORONI

S
pecter,” the dragon whispered, “you have a choice to make. You can now leave and begin life anew, if thou so desire. Or”—the creature smiled down at its child—“you can watch over this one, once again—on one final quest—and risk losing your life in defense of her and those she loves.”