LAST TIME: More astonishing than the dragon, though, was the small figure leaning on its right side. Jamison Crow, dressed all in black was sucking the last glowing bits out of a crystal, much like a person would eat an apple. He tossed the dead crystal away and smiled at the Knights.
“Would you care for a soul?”
Ashardalon, above, growled in a way that sounded very much like chuckling.
------------------------------------
“Jamison,” Kizz said, breathless. “But… so it’s true. You’re not dead.”
“It’s an illusion,” Dartan growled.
“It’s not an illusion,” Vek said as he saw through enchanted eyes. “though the Jamison we knew indeed lies in his grave.”
“Correct.” the man in black said. “I am not the Jamison you knew. He was good, and foolish, and weak. I was him rewrought in evil’s image. I am Crow… and I am now reborn.”
“The stone,” Vek muttered. “When Raelin destroyed it, he freed you.”
“Again, correct. You always were the smart one, Vek. Yes. I was Jamison for so long that when the Glaring Sun was shone on me, it only pushed me back into the stone I’d come from. There I smoldered at the floor of Acessiwal’s cavern for over a decade. Little did I know I’d be freed by the nephew of the very witch that put me there.”
He grinned and kept talking, gesturing delicately with his hands for emphasis. “I now know everything Jamison knew at the time of my release. On that count, thank you, my friends, for making him recall where the Orb of Thuriaq was. I found my own piece of the Soul Totem and came here, where I rejoined my old acquaintance Ashardalon. We’ve made something of a deal. I get to keep this…” He held up a crystal sphere, milky white in color, with dazzling pearlescent colors writhing about on its surface. “…and I help him to destroy you.”
He removed the piece of the Soul Totem from his neck and let it fall. He sighed and smiled. “A deal that- I’m pleased to say- I’m about to break. Goodbye, Ashardalon.”
Laughing, Crow disappeared. Ashardalon craned his head, saw the black wizard gone, and roared. “CROWWWWWWW!!!” The fury in his voice shook the crystal foundations of the Bastion. He breathed a plume of bright orange fire upward that enveloped the ceiling for a full thirty seconds.
When he calmed down, he saw the Knights there, still ready to fight to the death. He hadn’t foreseen Crow’s betrayal. He’d done business with Crow before, so this was unexpected. He looked down on them from sixty feet in the air. The treachery had clearly caught him off-guard, but he was a clever, ancient creature… he would learn to adapt. Best he could turn these enemies into his pawns, so that they might ruin Crow for him. ”MORE THE FOOL, ME,” he grumbled. ”IT SEEMS THAT A NEW DEAL IS IN ORDER. WE NOW SHARE CROW AS A COMMON ENEMY. WILL YOU JOIN ME? YOU HAVE NO CHANCE TO DEFEAT ME. BETTER WE SHOULD ALL PROFIT FROM AN ALLIANCE, THAN…" His yellow eyes widened as they came to Oaken. "YOU… YOU’RE…"
“The descendant of Dydd,” Oaken said proudly. He threw his arms up. “And IN the NAME of DYDD,” As he shouted the words the prophet at the druid’s grove had told him to recite, his eyes glowed red. His entire body took on the glow, and he seemed to grow tall. His voice boomed. “WHOSE BLOOD IS MY BLOOD, WHO SLEW YOUR HEART, FEEL AGAIN THE PAIN OF YOUR HEART’S DEMISE!!”
Ashardalon screamed and threw his head back. His body glowed red, as Oaken’s did. “Quickly, now,” Oaken yelled. “Attack!”
In Dartan’s head, the trumpets blared. Dut-d-d-DAHH!!! He ran forward and plunged his sword into the helpless dragon’s chest. Hot blood pumped out over Dartan’s gauntleted hands.
Broldek ran swinging Dragonhammer. The sword took on a life of its own and whipped through the air, shearing through heavy dragon scales into flesh. Dragonhammer glowed bright orange as its blade bit once more into dragon. Broldek was only too happy to pull it out and strike again.
Vek charged forward, drawing his sword Lifedrinker. The sword hissed with glee. “Plunge me into its chest. I beg you! To drink of this one’s blood…”
The lich laughed. “It’s not blood you’ll be drinking… it’s iron.” He swung the sword. It bit through the metal links of chain holding Ashardalon’s piece of the Soul Totem about his neck. The chain separated and the Totem piece fell into Vek’s waiting hand while the dragon squirmed helplessly above him.
Edge had moved to the dragon’s left, to better exploit his unprotected areas. He crouched just behind the massive beast’s left foreleg and began hammering the ribcage there with knifelike jabs and chops. He paused for a moment to pick from the ground Crow’s discarded piece of the Soul Totem. He hung it around his neck and continued the good fight.
Oaken, glowing red and large, said “Hurry, he won’t be helpless for much longer!”
Ashardalon screamed again as the glow released him, and he lowered his furious gaze from the ceiling to the heroes. The noise dwindled to a growl, which built back up to a roar as he blew a great cloud of fire over the Knights. They were protected quite well against the flame by Vek’s magics, and did not burn, but each felt in the fire the hate and white-hot rage. Ashardalon had taken great pains to live this long, and now he’d been betrayed in his own home, robbed, and now attacked by his greatest foe’s ancestor. There was no devil in the Abyss that ever knew the ferocity of a dragon with wounded pride.
Kizzlorn bathed the dragon in a cloud of icy blue shards that whickered and flew through the air. He grinned at her through the hailstorm. ”DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HURT ME? I HAVE FEASTED ON SOULS FOR COUNTLESS YEARS. BEFORE THAT, I GORGED ON THE FLESH OF MEN, AT MY LEISURE, IN YOUR WORLD.” He reached up and smashed Broldek aside, then cut at Edge with a great red wing. ”I AM ASHARDALON.”
Oaken hurled spells into the monster. He yelled in a voice that was only half his own. “I killed you once... I can do it again! I’ll take that heart from you with my own two hands!”
Vek laughed. “I’d rather like to do that, myself,” He made a gesture in the air, and called to the dragon’s heart. It did not come to him. He cursed and backed away from the dragon, readying more spells. This creature was not easily wounded by magic; it would take a careful weaving of spells to even touch it. With the power of two Soul Totem pieces about his neck, though, Vek felt like far more than he had ever been before. Power coursed in him, almost reminding him of what it was once like to have hot blood pumping through red, strong veins. The power. It was glorious. Wee Jas would be so pleased with him…
Dartan was chopping at the dragon’s neck like a woodsman at a tree. His sword glanced off with almost every strike, but such was the way of Dartan. He was far too stubborn to give up, when he had a foe to kill. He hewed and he hewed and he hewed, until he began to see blood flowing from the small cracks he’d made in the beast’s scaled underside.
Ashardalon was beginning to see the way of the battle. The elf’s powers had stolen precious seconds and laid him bare and defenseless to the attacks of his companions. He could not survive much more, even as powerful as he was. These mortals were truly fearsome. He didn’t have the space in here to maneuver as he’d have liked. He could not leave if the battle turned dire. He would die. The thought drove him mad with desperation. How could he die? He was Ashardalon. ”IF YOU THINK YOU CAN SEND ME TO DEATH, HEIR OF DYDD, I WILL TAKE YOU WITH ME.” He leaped over the heroes in his way and landed before the reddish, glowing elf. His jaws opened and plunged down. He bit, and his teeth slashed around Oaken’s midsection. He lifted his massive head, shaking the druid as a dog will shake a toy. His cruel fangs were ripping Oaken to pieces.
Oaken choked back his cries of pain and turned his skin to stone. He began punching at Ashardalon’s three-foot long teeth, frantically chipping and breaking them.
Broldek ran across the floor shouting a war cry. He ducked under the dragon’s thrashing tail. He pointed Dragonhammer upwards, crouched, and with a grunt drove the sword upward into the dragon’s breast. Sparks erupted all around the blade as Dragonhammer pushed inward, all the way to the hilt. Immediately, the scales around the sword darkened and smoked like blackening coals in a campfire. The black patch began to spread. Embers glowed fiercely, close to the sword.
Ashardalon reared back, screaming through a clenched jaw, where Oaken still beat at the immense teeth that speared him through.
Kizzlorn yelled “Get back, I think this is it!” Vek raised a bubble of protective magic over the bloodied Knights. Broldek ducked into the bubble, leaving Dragonhammer still at the center of Ashardalon’s chest. The dragon’s belly was now entirely charred and glowing like a well-burnt piece of wood.
Ashardalon spoke through his teeth to Oaken. ”I HATE YOU. I TRULY HATE YOU. NOW, I SHALL BE THE DEATH OF YOU.”
Oaken spat out a mouthful of blood and made a maniac grin. “Then I’ll see you in Hell, beast.”
Ashardalon exploded. The noise was like nothing the Knights had heard before- it was like ten thousand glaciers cracking at once, followed by a rush of wind. Gray and black soot blasted in every direction. Sparks winked from the maelstrom, quickly as lightning, crisscrossing the air. The Knights huddled in Vek’s protective magical shell felt the heat, but were not hurt as the world around them churned with smoke.
When the storm of Ashardalon’s death subsided, Vek lowered the shell and they pushed through the haze. All they saw where the dragon had last stood was Dragonhammer, glowing red-hot, lying on a thin bed of ashes. “Oaken,” Kizzlorn said sadly.
Broldek said “He died helping to kill a dragon. There’s really no better way to go.” Kizzlorn didn’t argue.
Vek turned to Edge. “The Soul Totem. You have the piece that Crow dropped.”
Edge looked up, distracted. “What? Oh, yes, I have that.”
Vek extended his hand, and Edge saw that it was trembling. “Let me have it.”
Edge looked to Kizzlorn, who met his uncertain gaze. She paused for a second, then nodded. Edge gave his piece of the Soul Totem to Vek. Vek clutched at it and placed it against the other two. They shimmered and snapped together like three magnets, forming one whole medallion. He cried out triumphantly. The power! Is this what it feels like to be a god?
Yes, he thought. Yes it is.
MORE TO COME...
