Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) (30 page)

“He won?” Erik asked with eyes wide.

Al smiled wide. “He suckered them into a cave and then
dropped it around their ears.” His smile faded and he sighed then.
“Unfortunately, he died there. I would have liked to see him again.” Al became
silent for a few moments and let his gaze drift to the floor before continuing.
“The dwarves in the north fought well under Master Penthal. They will be hailed
as heroes in Roegudok Hall.”

“So will you,” Erik said.

Al shook his head and then pointed a finger at Erik.
“You remember one thing, beanpole,” Al said is he regained his composure. “You
always have a friend in the mountain. Never forget that.”

Erik started to cry as he watched Al leave the room
and close the door behind. Erik sat on the bed a long while, waiting for
someone else to come in the room. It took him maybe an hour or two before he
realized there was no one else left to come. He looked at the tapestries on the
wall, realizing for the first time that there was no window in this room. He
rose to his feet and went to the door. He exited the room and made his way down
the corridor. He didn’t get far when he heard a loud commotion.

He followed the sounds of shouting and yelling until
he made his way to the inner courtyard of Fort Drake. Soldiers rushed past him,
nearly knocking him out of their way as they streamed out into the courtyard.
Erik stepped outside and saw the great golden dragon standing in the courtyard.
The sunlight bounced off of his golden scales, and the men gathered around in a
sense of reverence and awe. It had been a long, long time since the Middle
Kingdom had been visited by a dragon other than Tu’luh. It had been longer
still, since the dragon did not have to worry about Nagar’s evil curse.

The Father of the Ancients quickly found Erik among
the crowd and looked at him. Soldiers parted immediately, as if obeying some
unspoken command from the dragon. Erik walked forward and knelt on a knee
before the Father of the Ancients.

“Do not bow before me, Champion of Truth.” The
dragon’s voice echoed in the courtyard. “It is I who should bow to you.” The
magnificent dragon bent down on all four knees, until his belly touched the
ground, and his head rested in the dirt before Erik’s face. Erik reached out
with his right hand and touched the dragon on the snout. “Allow me to heal your
wound.” Hyasintar Kulai stretched forth a curved, golden talon and touched
Erik’s shoulder. Instantly the wound healed and the arm was usable again.

“Thank you,” Erik offered.

“Climb onto my back,” the dragon said.

At that moment a small figure came rushing out from
the crowd. It was Jaleal, the gnome, and he was frantically trying to catch
them before they left. He knelt before the Father of the Ancients and held his
spear out reverently.

“Please, wherever you take him, allow me to go as
well.”

“Noble gnome,” the dragon began. “Your place is with
your kind. For now, your fight is done. However, there will come a time when
you will need to take up your spear again. Go and prepare for that time.”

Jaleal shook his head. “I cannot leave Erik’s side.”

“Where Erik goes, you cannot follow,” the dragon said.
“But you will not long be parted. Go back to your people now, and you will see
each other again.”

Jaleal nodded and remained in a kneeling position as
he looked up to Erik and smiled his farewell.

“And what of me?”
A female
voice asked.

Erik scanned the crowd and saw Lady Arkyn standing
there, looking at him with her beautiful eyes.

Erik felt a voice enter his mind. It asked him whether
he wanted Lady Arkyn to accompany him. It reminded him of the time when he
could speak with the dwarves telepathically, while he was in Lepkin’s dragon
form. He knew at once that the golden dragon was communicating with him in the
same manner now. Erik looked at Lady Arkyn and did not have to think for long.

“There is room for you as well,” Erik said. “Come with
me.”

Lady Arkyn quickly climbed onto the dragon and sat
behind Erik. Without waiting a moment longer, the golden dragon leapt into the
air high into the sky. He soared with blinding speed, much faster than Erik had
ever been able to fly as a dragon, and faster than he had even
seem
Tu’luh fly. The golden dragon took him back to his home
and set him down among the ruins.

They walked by the barn, or what was left of it after
it had been burnt. They walked toward where the house had been. Erik looked
down at the rubble at his feet thought of that battle when Senator Bracken, or
more accurately the warlock that had masqueraded as Senator Bracken, had led an
army against his home. “You knew then that I was not master
Lepkin,
didn’t you?” Erik asked Lady Arkyn.

“I did,” Lady Arkyn said.

“Thank you for not saying anything. If you had, the
soldiers who followed me might have lost heart and fled.”

Lady Arkyn shook her head emphatically. “No, not if
they saw what I saw in you. There is a great strength in you, one that commands
respect and speaks of
a wisdom
far beyond your years.”

Erik smiled, blushing a bit in the cheeks, and looked
back to the stones and bricks at his feet that had once formed his home.

The two of them walked in silence through the rubble
for a few minutes before Erik turned back to the golden dragon and asked him a
question.

“Why have you brought me here?”

“Your home is going to be rebuilt,” the golden dragon
said. “King Mathias has already decreed it. Your mother, and the servant called
Braun, will leave the capitol city tomorrow morning. They’ll be traveling
directly here. I thought you might like to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Erik echoed. “Where is it that I am going?”

The golden dragon laughed a soft yet deep, throaty
laugh. “I can see the rumblings inside your heart, young Erik. There is a wound
-
an emptiness
that I believe only a new adventure
will heal.”

“So where are you sending me?” Erik asked. The golden
dragon shook his head. “The tapestries of fate came undone after you destroyed
the spells that threatened the Middle Kingdom. Neither I, nor the other dragons
can see into the future with any degree of clarity anymore.”

“Does this mean you cannot find the secrets inside the
Infinium?”

“No, it only means that I cannot see whether you play
any part in the Middle Kingdom’s immediate future. We will continue to study
the Infinium, and if we discover something of importance I will come for you.”

Erik looked around at the rubble of his home and then
he looked to Lady Arkyn. She smiled at him reassuringly. Erik looked back to
the dragon and asked, “What will become of my mother?”

“Her heart is broken.” A single tear emerged and fell
from the golden dragon’s right eye. “I have the power to allow her to reunite
with her husband.”

“You would kill her?” Erik asked.

“Now.
I would transfigure
her. Afterward, when the two have been reunited, I will personally carry their
spirits to the heaven city, Volganor. It is something I can only do a few times
before the journey would sap me of my strength and prevent me from returning to
Terramyr. But, for your parents, I would be happy to make the journey.”

Erik nodded. “Where should we go?” He glanced back to
Lady Arkyn and her smile only grew brighter.

“The sea lies to the west, the wild lands are to the
east, and there are orc lands to the south, with many rumored mysteries beyond
that. I am sure we can figure something out.”

“I like the sound of that.” Erik turned and took a few
steps back toward the Father of the Ancients. “If I leave, what will happen to
the Middle Kingdom?”

“Now that I have returned, I will grant additional
strength to King Mathias. When his body fails him, Master Lepkin will take his
place as the king. I will work with Master Lepkin, and his posterity, to create
a peaceful kingdom.”

Erik was happy. He knew that Lepkin would make an
honorable and just king. He only hoped that it would be far enough in the
future that Lepkin could enjoy some quiet and peace before being called back to
serve the kingdom again. For now, Erik was going to follow in Lepkin’s
footsteps. There was something he needed to find, and he could not find it in
the Middle Kingdom. He turned to the west, and then the east, and finally to
the south. Then he turned around and looked to the north. He wasn’t sure where
he wanted to go. He knew that he no longer had a home in the Middle Kingdom. It
wasn’t just the rubble under his feet. He had changed. He needed to find
himself again. He turned once more and looked at Lady Arkyn.

He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but at least
he knew who he was going with. Destiny may have finished with him for now, but
he decided it was about time to write his own. Besides, he could do far worse
than beginning that new journey with a beautiful woman.

Aparen watched from the window as Erik and Lady Arkyn
leapt atop the back of the golden dragon. He couldn’t help but feel a little
jealous. Erik had stolen the glory that should have been his. Then again, he
now had a power far beyond what he might have had otherwise. He thought of Njar
the satyr’s teachings. Balance had been restored. The orcs had been repelled,
the curse had been broken, and the Middle Kingdom was returned to its natural
state.

He knew he could no longer find a home in the Middle
Kingdom. He looked down at his left hand, seeing the horrible scars that were
forming over his skin where the dragon’s fire burned and mutilated his body.
Now, even in his human form he was more monster than man. He moved to put on a
long-sleeved cotton shirt, without regard for the pain as he slid it over his
still open wounds. Then he exited the fort.

He walked toward the south, over the broken field,
around the trenches between the pits. People were slowly making their way
southward again, back to Stonebrook and the other villages and cities between
Fort Drake and Stonebrook. Soldiers were on the move, transferring strength
back to Ten Forts. Aparen intended to go beyond Ten Forts. If the orcish armies
had been vanquished, then that meant there was a land to the south ripe for
claiming. Who better to bring balance to a war thirsty horde than the greatest
warlock in the history of the Middle Kingdom?

A great flash of lightning sparked in front of him. A
silvery plate spun on the ground. The plate expanded to cover a large area in
front of him and a great column of light descended down upon the plate. Within
the light appeared his mother, Lady Cedreau. She stepped out of the light,
followed by Njar the satyr, and Silvi the witch.

Aparen stood motionless. He had not seen his mother
for quite some time, and certainly not since before he had led some of his
retinue against Lokton manor.

The satyr was the first to speak. “Aparen, I found
your mother. I have convinced her to stop hunting Silvi. In return, I promised
to bring her to you so she could speak with you one more time.”

“One more time?”
Aparen
glanced between his mother and the satyr. “What do you mean one more time?”

“Eldrik,” lady Cedreau called out, using Aparen’s
birth name. “Njar has offered me a new life. He has found a place where he can
send me, where I will be happy. He has offered to ensure that I have every need
provided for me. I will have money, a home, and a place where people respect
me.”

“He told me of this plan before,” Aparen said. “Where
will you go?”

“That is why I have come. For this to work, the satyr
is going to take my memories away and replace them with others. I will have a
new family, and a new life.”

“You would abandon me, my father, and my brother?”

His mother shook her head, with tears streaming from
her eyes. She held out her arms to him beckoning for him to come to her. “No. I
want you to come with me. He can make the same life with you in it if you
choose.”

“What do I give up in return?” Aparen asked.

The satyr stepped forward. “In addition to your
memories, you will need to give up your magic. If you were to keep it, your
memories would return and it would jeopardize you and your mother’s happiness.”

Aparen shook his head. “No. You ask too great a
price.” Aparen looked at Silvi. “Do you agree with them? Do you wish for me to
give up everything that I am?”

“I wish for you to do whatever it is your heart
desires to do. I also wish to go with you whichever choice you make.”

“You will go with me whether I go with my mother or
somewhere else?” Aparen clarified.

Silvi nodded in response.

Aparen moved in and gave his mother a hug. The two
embraced for a long while,
then
he kissed her on the
cheek. “I cannot go with you, mother. It is my memories that make me who I am,
and it is my powers that make me who I will be.”

The satyr came in close and put a hand on each of the
shoulders. “If you choose not to go with her, you must forget about her. If you
ever approach her in life, the spell will be broken and her memories will flood
back to her. You would steal her happiness from her, and replace it with all
the grief she has borne for this long while. You saw the vision of what the
witches did. Your mother has suffered enough. I will not tell you where she is
going, and you must swear in a wizard’s pact never to look for her.”

Aparen pushed his mother away, nodding slowly his
agreement. “I wish for you to be happy, mother.” He then looked at Silvi. “I am
traveling south, through the orcish lands. Will you go with me there?”

Silvi smiled and rushed forward to embrace Aparen in a
hug. She kissed him on his cheek and then let her head fall upon his shoulder.
“I told you before, that I would be yours,” she whispered.

The satyr summoned his staff and held it over them in
the air. “This is where we all part ways,” he said. “I wish each of you the
best of fortune, and may Terramyr smile upon your days.”

The satyr stamped the ground with his staff. A mighty
whirlwind arose and each party was taken to their separate destinations to
begin their new lives.

*****

Tu’luh floated toward the volcano Demaverung that he
had once called home. His wings beat slowly, but he didn’t need to move them.
He was dead. His spirit would move with the power of will whether his legs or
wings moved at all.

He studied the demolished volcano and his heart felt
heavy. It wasn’t the loss of the battle that weighed upon him. He had lost wars
before. Hamath Valley had been a particularly humiliating defeat. Then there
had been the time that the young boy and the gnome had cornered him inside
Demaverung. At least he had destroyed Valtuu Temple before fleeing the battle
there.

He looked to the sky and cursed it. “Fools!” he
shouted. “You will all burn.” His thoughts turned to Kendualdern, his former
home world. Now it was nothing more than star dust. Terramyr was set on the
same course, he knew. Without his guidance, there would be no redemption for
Icadion’s world.

The dragon roared mightily, but the ground did not
quake this time. In spirit, his power was greatly diminished. He had to think
of a way to reverse the events that had taken place. He had watched helplessly
as his precious spell was destroyed. Erik had done a fine job of mucking
everything up.

Still, he was never one to admit defeat. He had waited
centuries before, he could do it again. He had only to find the right tool to
bring his plan back into existence. There was always a human or elf that was
seeking the darker arts. He was sure he could find someone to corrupt,
eventually.

He snarled and stared at the ruined volcano before
him. He knew that beneath the hollowed shell of the once mighty mountain was a
great pool of lava building up. Whether in centuries or eons, the volcano would
rise again.

“So will
I
,” Tu’luh swore. “I
will rise again. I have all eternity to find the way.”

“Tu’luh, you broke our bargain,” a voice boomed from
behind, ripping Tu’luh from his thoughts.

The dragon wheeled around to see Khefir standing with
a great scythe in his bony hands.

“Be gone, dog,” Tu’luh snapped.

Khefir laughed, his jaw clicking and clacking with
each chuckle. The god shook his head and pointed a single finger at Tu’luh. “You
swore that when Gulgarin finished his life, I would have claim on his soul.”

“Be gone!” Tu’luh repeated.

“I have brought a few visitors for you,” Khefir said.
He waved his left hand and a massive rift tore through the air. Burning, red
lines ripped the very fabric of the air away to reveal an army of thousands of
orcs dressed in blood-red armor. Each of them held halberds and swords at the
ready. Flames of blue and white encircled each blade. Behind them was the
abominable plane of Hammenfein. Waves of heat danced over the orcish spirit
soldiers.

“You think to fight me?” Tu’luh mocked. “I am an
Ancient. I am the son of Hyasintar Kulai.”

“And I am a god,” Khefir replied. “Let me introduce
you to one of my newest generals. A fiery portal opened on Khefir’s right-hand
side. Through the opening stepped Maernok. The orc
grinned
wide and saluted Tu’luh.

“You should have resurrected me, dragon.
Though it seems I will have a more pleasing battle now.”

Tu’luh growled. “I have a bargain,” he offered.

“Enough of your schemes,” Maernok said. “Khefir
demands his soul,” he shouted to the soldiers around him.
“Attack!”

The orcish spirit warriors poured in from the
underworld, flooding Terramyr like a great sea of brimstone. Tu’luh roared and
lunged at them. Even though he was a spirit, he was not without power. He
batted dozens away with his tail, swatted scores with his claws, and even
devoured a few souls in his mouth.

Tu’luh could hear Khefir’s laugh taunting him as the
ever-charging ocean of orc spirits washed over him. It wasn’t long before they
subdued him with golden chains that bound his snout shut, and tethered his
wings tight to his back. Even his powers could not break the chains that held
him.

Maernok climbed atop Tu’luh and drove a long, golden
spike though his head. The pain seared the dragon so that he collapsed to the
ground and all of his strength left him. The orc bent low to his ear and
whispered something that the dragon could not quite understand. Rattling chains
were then attached to the spike and Maernok pulled on them. The pain forced
Tu’luh up to his feet.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Maernok asked Tu’luh. “Now you
are
my
slave. I shall ride you into Hammenfein as my prize.”

Tu’luh cried out in protest, but a quick yank on the
chains attached to the spike in his head shut his mouth.

“That is right, General Maernok,” Khefir said. “One
must not let their steed have too much spirit. It is improper.”

Maernok bent his head low, bowing reverently to
Khefir. “I understand, my lord. I will be sure to break this one quickly.”

Khefir laughed as the army pulled on the chains,
dragging Tu’luh down to hell.