His Ancient Heart

His Ancient Heart

Tears of Blood, Book Three

By M.R. Forbes

Copyright 2014 M.R. Forbes

Published by Quirky Algorithms

All rights reserved.

I. LIFE

CHAPTER ONE

Silas

"Run," Silas said.

The dragon's head lowered, rocking back and forth on its long neck, its eyes staying focused on them. A massive leg shifted in their direction with enough force to shake the ground beneath them.

"I said run!" Silas grabbed Wilem's shoulder, shoving him in the opposite direction. "Oz, get them out of here."

The metal man reached out and took Eryn's hand, the grip too strong for her to fight. He started pulling her away, his body creaking and grinding with every step, his gait unsteady on his bent foot.

"Silas?" Wilem returned to his side. "You can't fight that thing."

Silas' blue eyes burned. "I was made to fight these things."

He shoved again, the force sending Wilem backwards onto the ground. He scrambled back to his feet and followed after Oz and Eryn.
 

The dragon's mouth opened, and an ear-splitting scream rushed forth from it, enveloping the entire valley in the sound, forcing it to echo off the surrounding mountains and fall back in around them. It took another huge step, wings spreading to full width and shaking lightly, helping it keep its mass balanced.

Silas started walking towards it.
 

"I killed your master," he said, raising the sword in his left hand and waving his right. He wanted to be sure the beast saw only him.
 

It took two more steps, gaining speed with each giant footfall. It's head coiled back on its neck, and then lurched forward, blue fire pouring from its gullet towards him.

He held the ircidium blade up and forward, catching the flames on it and leaning in, holding himself steady against the assault. The magical fire speared the air around him, broken apart by the metal and keeping him unharmed.
 

The gout ended, and the dragon screamed again, the frustration evident in the din. Four more steps brought it halfway to Silas, and its wings tucked in and forward, the appendages tipped with bone as sharp as spears.
 

"Come on." Silas held his position, putting the sword in both hands and crouching. He knew somewhere in his broken memories that he had never truly fought a dragon before. He knew that no one fought a dragon alone and survived.
 

He didn't need to survive. He was over a thousand years old. He had gone on for longer than anyone had the right, especially one who had done the things that he had done. All he wanted was for Eryn to make it to the trees, to find a place to hide and evade the dragon's sight. He wanted her to live, maybe with Wilem as her husband and Oz as their ancient guardian.
 

That was a future he would fight for.
 

Or die for.

The ground shook, and the dragon pulled back its head and threw it forward again, the magic flames returning, blasting a line between itself and Silas. He planted the tip of the blade in the ground, allowing it to catch the power as it reached him, again splitting it apart.
 

It was a distraction. The wings snapped down towards him from both sides, trying to intercept and impale him in the center. He knew it was coming. He tensed his legs and leaped into the air, pulling the blade from the ground at the same time the attacks converged, digging up the earth where he had been standing, sending dirt launching everywhere.
 

Silas landed right in front of the dragon, only feet from its mouth. He lashed out with his blade, feeling it slide against the thick scales below its nostrils, digging in but not through. A jaw bigger than himself opened wide, and sharp, wet teeth launched at him. He rolled away from the strike, moving forward and bringing his blade down hard on the dragon's neck.
 

It sparked off the scales, again making a slight cut, but not coming close to breaching the armor.

The neck moved sideways, knocking into him and sending him flying. He felt the air shift around him, saw the beast's wings flare wide as it made an effort to stop its forward momentum and turn his way. He landed on his back and kicked himself to his feet, ignoring the painful throbbing in his wounded leg. The head shot towards him again, and he crouched below it, too slow to get the blade ready before it drew back for another strike.

He glanced to his right and saw the back of his juggernaut's body vanish into the distant trees.

Satisfied, he hopped back, getting himself in front of the dragon's head.
 

"I hope you choke on me."
 

He lowered his blade, holding it at his side. He would try to stab it in the throat before it's teeth tore him apart. It was the only thing left for him to do.

The dragon's face danced towards him, mouth opening. He set himself, calm and confident in his sacrifice. He should never have survived his battle with Clau. He had used the borrowed time well.

A streak of light appeared out of the corner of his eye and slammed into the dragon's face, exploding in heat and energy. The dragon's mouth closed defensively, and it swiveled to find the new threat.

So did Silas.

Eryn stood twenty feet away, her forehead soaked in sweat, her eyes glowing with the power of her fury. She held her hands out at her sides, and six more of the light missiles appeared next to her, arcing and whining towards the dragon. They blasted it in the leg, the neck, the head. It screamed. A scream of fear.

He smelled its burning hide.

The dragon coiled and lurched, blue flame belching toward Eryn, racing along the air at her.

She vanished.

Silas raised his sword, ready to renew his attack.
 

A hand took his wrist, changing the meaning of time around him.
 

"We can't defeat it," Eryn said. "This way."

They were in a distortion field. The dragon was motionless next to them, its flames frozen in the air. Eryn held her grandfather's arm, pulling him along, guiding him towards the distant trees.
 

"You can't hold it long enough," he said.
 

Her eyes were still glowing when she looked at him. "Right now, I can. I don't know what will happen to me when I lower the field. I don't know if I'll survive."

"You will. You must. I didn't save you to see you die. Fight it, Eryn, and we'll get you to the Refinery. We'll get you more of the cure."

"I'll try, Silas. I promise I'll try."

They moved as fast as they could, everything slowed to a near stop around them. She held the field for three minutes while they crossed to the trees. The moment they were under cover, it fell away.

"Eryn!" Wilem saw them appear, and he rushed over to her. She looked at him and smiled. The glow faded from her eyes. The life followed it. "Eryn!"

Silas caught her before she could fall, lowering her to the ground. He put his finger to his lips. "Be quiet. You'll draw it to us. Stay down."

He cradled Eryn's head. She was weak but alive. Wilem had given her the cure inside, and it was the only reason she was still breathing at all. She had used so much power, the grey scaliness of her skin, the parasitic poison of the Shifters, was no longer receding.

"It is confused."
 

Silas looked to where the dragon sat in the center of the field. It's quarry had vanished, and it moved in a slow circle, whining and stamping its flesh with a wing. Its head slithered back and forth, scanning the area for them.
 

"Don't move," he whispered.
 

They remained crouching, watching while the creature spun three more times, smoke rising from its wounds. When it didn't see them, it shifted its head towards the mid-day sky. Its wings spread wide and started flapping, the force of it shaking the branches around them and carrying the smell of it to their nostrils.
 

It screamed again while it rose, lifting itself away from the remnants of Genesia, away from the source of its thousand-year imprisonment, and out into the world once more.

CHAPTER TWO

Spyne

"Your orders, my Lord?"

General Spyne knelt before the farspeak stone, nestled high in the tower at the palace in Portsmouth. It spun in front of him, moving so fast it was nothing more than a blur. The voice,
his
voice, spilled forth from it, commanding
his
most loyal and trusted servant.

"General. Many years ago, you knew of a place called Genesia. It is where we were born, and where the downfall of our enemy began. Do you remember?"

Spyne lowered his head, looking at the stone floor beneath him. It was polished enough to reflect his face, worn and bearded, dark hair tinged with white. His eyes were small and narrow, his nose wide and flat. The corner of a scar was visible at the edge of the facial hair, a wound forged not in battle, but in the bedroom.
 

She had been a spirited one.

"I remember," he said, closing his eyes. He could see the tower in his mind, rising from the valley in all its gilded glory. He didn't question why he had never recalled the place before, or why he could remember it now.
 

"That is as it was. Remember it as we left it."

The tower remained bright, but a heavy mist settled in around it, blocking its view from the surrounding mountainsides. He saw the juggernauts now, the creatures of magic and metal, turning on their makers, chasing them from their home. He felt a sharp pain dance across his heart while he watched the creatures cut down men and women, girls and boys. He ran at their head, directing them.

"Only you had the strength to do as was required. The other eight never knew."

"Why have you put these thoughts back in my head, my Lord?" He looked up at the spinning orb. A single tear ran unbidden from his eye.

"Talon. He has discovered Genesia. He has broken the promise. The tower is no more, yet he continues to live."

Spyne remembered General Rast. The Hero of Ares' Nor. The First of Nine. The one who had defeated the enemy. Spyne was the toughest, the coldest, the strongest. Talon was the most dangerous, because he had no single trait that made him exceptional. He couldn't best any of them at any single task, and yet he could challenge each of them in turn.

"I will find him, my Lord. Do I capture him, or kill him?"

There was only the barest of hesitations. "Kill him, General."

Spyne smiled, showing a row of teeth cracked and worn, the front pair shaved into points. "As you command, my Lord."

"He is injured, General, and will require rest to heal. You may not be able to reach Genesia before he has fled, but you will be able to follow his trail from there. Take your Historians and go. Do whatever you must to find him, but do not let him get away. The promise is broken, General. He will stop at nothing to destroy all that we have worked to build. He will stop at nothing to destroy our world."

Spyne rose to his feet and bowed. "I will leave immediately, my Lord. With a hard ride, we can be at Genesia in two days. We may be able to reach the valley before he can regain his footing." He paused and wiped a lock of black hair away from his eyes. "What of the books we've discovered?"

"Destroy them."

"Yes, my Lord." He bowed a second time and turned sharply, moving to the steep, winding steps that led down to the rest of the palace.
 

The orb slowed to a stop behind him.

Spyne reached into a pocket and withdrew a small ircidium disc. He tapped on it twice, sending a message to his Historians waiting in the barracks below to prepare to leave.
 

He felt a sharp lance of pain in his head, and put out a hand to steady himself on the wall. His eyes forced themselves closed, and the throbbing of his heartbeat reached up into his temple, pulsing and quickening. His lips curled into a snarl, and he pulled his blade from its scabbard, swinging it wildly, slamming it against the stone around him, cutting and chipping in a fit of anger.
 

He continued as he descended until finally the pain began to subside. His heart rate slowing, he sheathed the weapon and looked back at the damage he had wrought.
 

"The same fate awaits you, Talon," he said to the air. He threw a gauntleted punch into the rock, and then continued down.

CHAPTER THREE

Wilem

"What are we going to do now?" Wilem asked.
 

"We have to get Eryn more of the cure." Silas was holding her head in his lap, stroking her hair while he gazed up into the now-empty sky.
 

"The Refinery? We don't even know where to find it."

"I know. Not the Refinery, not yet. Tell me, Wilem, who else would be carrying the cure?"

"There are elder Mediators who are often in charge of the others. They carry the cure for their charges, as Kelkin did for me. It used to be that they were stationed in the larger towns, but with the increase in Cursed, they have been forced to start traveling out to the villages."