Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon) (4 page)

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THE TRAITOR’S CHOICE

S
pecter rose from his kneeling position on the street in Netroth. It had been a hard-fought battle in the mighty city of the giants. Oganna, beloved princess of the Hemmed Land, had come to this place in search of the villain who’d been sending winged humanoids to murder the people in her land. She and the desert Megatraths that had come with her had been surrounded by an army of giants. She might have held her own, but the Grim Reaper had appeared to collect the Megatraths’ lives. Specter had revealed himself at that moment and engaged Death in a duel. By his hand the dark being had at last been destroyed, but the young and beautiful Oganna had meanwhile met her match. A wizard named Razes had mutilated her, bringing her very near death. Only the sudden appearance of Oganna’s father, Ilfedo, with the fiery sword of the dragon in his hand, had saved her life.

The dragon prophet, Albino, had charged Specter to protect Oganna. But over a thousand years before, in his other lifetime, Specter had been known as the warrior Xavion, and he was still bent on bringing down the traitors that had escaped after betraying him. Having found one traitor, Auron, serving the wizard Razes during the battle, Specter had engaged the man in a duel. Only he was a free agent, not tied to any particular land, but only serving the prophets of God.

He gazed into the dark western sky. A spot of white appeared, blazing through the clouds. Then it slowed and streaked toward him in the form of a ball of fire, growing larger with each second.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Auron crawling from the building wherein he’d defeated him. The traitor’s scarred face grimaced with each move he made. The ball of fire silently exploded on the broad highway, and from the flames grew the white wings of a dragon. The magnificent creature stepped out of the dissipating flames. Each of its feet resounded on the stones as it strode forward, coming toward Specter. The traitor let out a startled cry and scrambled back into the building’s shadows.

Specter knelt again and lowered his head. The mighty Albino loomed before him, scales aglow with pure energy. “It is done, my master. Auron has been defeated.” He swept his arm at the building wherein the traitor hid. “Even now he cowers in the shadows.”

A thoughtful rumble came from the dragon, and it shifted on its feet for a moment. It gazed upon the nearby structure with those fierce pink eyes and said, “You surprise me. I had expected you to become his executioner.”

“There is a chance he may find redemption even now.” Specter grasped his scythe handle with both hands. “But he is no threat to my young charge. She proved her worth in the battle this day.” He gazed up at the dragon, and the noble creature turned its face to gaze back with a smile.

“Yes. She has realized her potential. She is even beyond your prowess, my friend. What once was a hope has now become a reality. The father and the daughter shall go on to find even Letrias himself. Of this I have little doubt.” The dragon lowered his long neck, bringing its face to within a couple feet of his. “But you, my friend, have acquitted thyself above all others.”

Specter exhaled. “I only followed what I believed God’s will was in this situation. You asked me to guard your offspring—and so I have done. But she is both strong and loving. She brought about far more good than I. She befriended the Megatraths and healed their wounds. She saved that little viper from death and humbled Auron—”

“You sound taken with her, Specter.” The dragon’s scales pulsed.

“Not in a romantic way, my master. But she is a remarkable young woman.”

Albino chuckled and pivoted to gaze up at the citadel of Ar’lenon. With darkness shrouding it, the immense structure stood out in stark relief against the velvet star-studded sky. “Only she and that faithful Megatrath now remain in this city. They will sleep tonight in the citadel, for tomorrow they plan to find a suitable burial place for the fallen king of Burloi.” The dragon swiveled to face Specter again and raised his hand, holding up one huge claw. “But you, my faithful warrior—your duty to Oganna and to my daughters is finished.”

Specter stared in shock and stood. “Surely I should remain with her, to watch over her and guard her against any who seeks her life. She cannot stand alone.”

“She will not stand alone, Specter. But you will not be the one to save her when she again needs a savior. That final salvation must come from another path, another man—a man whom Letrias knows nothing of.” The dragon laughed, deep and rumbling. “Ah, the beauty of life; even in the death of those we love is the Creator’s plan revealed!”

“Then what would you have me to do?” Specter felt his mind racing through the past years, from the lovely young dragon daughters, to the death of Dantress, to the recent achievements of Oganna. He couldn’t imagine a life without these women. After his rebirth he’d devoted himself wholly to their well-being.

The dragon looked at the building wherein the traitor had hidden. “Auron’s destiny is uncertain. His path has wavered, and he has fallen into truly vast corruption. Follow him, and if thou should find him returned to his demonic worship, slay him before he becomes another Letrias.” The dragon pulled a small white bag from under a wing and smiled, then handed it to him. “Thy journey may be long. Take this for sustenance, courtesy of Elsie.”

Specter bowed. “I will do as you command.” And the dragon turned, walked down the street. Its enormous body faded, became translucent, then a breeze whisked it away. The traitor crawled from the building, slowly at first, looking one way and then the other. Specter allowed his cloak to render him invisible. Auron stood, stumbled, and fell in the street. Then he appeared to stand without difficulty.
What in Subterran . . .?
But then the man turned, and in his hand he held the upper half of his broken staff. Its head pulsed deep purple, and then faded, blending into the night. Either Auron’s repentance had been for Specter’s benefit, or the man was simply trying to survive by whatever means necessary.

Limping as he went, Auron proceeded down the highway and Specter followed, though he planted his feet with care so as not to alert his former pupil to his presence.
Lead me where you will, Auron. I will follow. If salvation is your desire I will observe and help you along. But if you turn against me again, I will be God’s angel of death.

Night shrouded the city. Auron followed the highway north and slept in a burned-out home. Specter checked that there were no entrances but the front one, then sat outside against the stone foundation by the doorway. He dug into the bag, fished out a warm bun, and bit into it. The sweet taste of butter filled his mouth, and he relaxed. He bowed his head and asked God’s blessing on both the food and the prophets whom he served. And then he added a prayer for Auron. “As You have forgiven me, let me forgive him. But if he will not repent, let me bring an end to him and, in so doing, to his evil. Amen.”

The next day Auron rose early. He looked utterly famished, and his eyes bore a wildness and desperation Specter had never seen before. The traitor stumbled eastward across the former kingdom of Burloi. Not once did he glance back at Netroth. Before long, the mighty spire of Ar’lenon shrank out of view into the valley, until Specter could no longer discern where it lay. He remained invisible.

Auron stopped at the first stream he came to, plunged his head in the water and then his whole body. He touched his broken staff’s head to the water’s surface and several fish floated up from the current. He tore into them, glancing about as if sensing someone was watching. Upon devouring several fish, he stepped onto the opposite bank and glanced back. His gaze swept the exact spot on which Specter stood, then passed on farther along the bank. He broke into a run, heading toward the rising sun and leaving behind all evidences of the cursed giant kingdom.

As morning blossomed into afternoon, a forest rose before them. The trees resembled oaks and white birch, but their height seemed to defy heaven, and their trunks were broad enough to accommodate small houses. Bushes, some fifteen feet tall, peppered the forest floor. Fuzzy leaves of yellow, green, and blue covered their branches. The trees themselves abounded in leaves of green. Specter found himself ducking under the numerous low-hanging shoots that twisted from the trunks like thinner branches. The shoots curled around adjacent trees, forming a veritable web of nature.

Though no path seemed to present itself, Auron led him deeper into the forest. Hours passed. Specter couldn’t help glancing up to try to determine the sun’s position. But it did him no good, for the thick forest all but snuffed out Yimshi’s rays. Curiously, not a single bird’s call pierced the forest’s calm. Insects abounded, skittering along the forest’s dry floor, but no other living thing evidenced itself.

Auron batted branches aside and cursed when they whipped him in the face. The shadows lengthened. Specter found it difficult to keep pace with his guide. He had to keep his hood over his head, his cloak tight around his body, and his scythe from hitting the branches. No need to alert the traitor to the fact that he was being tracked.

Then Auron slipped around a tree, and when he followed, Specter saw only an empty stretch of forest floor. It had grown quite dark, but not so dark that he should lose the man. Frustrated, he turned to retrace his steps. When he faced the back side of the tree, he found a hole that opened into a hollow interior. The hole was more than large enough for a man to pass through, and a spot of flickering light bounced inside the tree—as if someone were using a torch to find his way underground. Auron had gone in.

Stepping forward with care, Specter found steps curving beneath the tree. The faint light played off the inner walls of the tree and descended quickly underground. The only thing he could guess was that the traitor had again made use of his wizard staff to create an unnatural light. Twenty feet or more he descended the wooden stairs, then they leveled out, opening into a spacious dirt chamber. Auron stood in the middle of the large space, holding his broken staff above his head. The orb at its head glowed with yellow light.

Vines grew in and out of the walls, and on every side the trees’ roots grew like leaning pillars. The chamber’s ceiling tapered to a point some fifteen feet above his head. On one side of the room stood a wooden desk built as if for a giant. A large quill rested in a bronze inkwell atop it. A great spear lay beside the desk, and a sword leaned against the opposite wall. But what caught Specter’s attention at the last moment made anger flood his soul. There, lying at Auron’s feet, was a breastplate bristling with razor-sharp blades. Razes! So, the traitor had returned to the lair of his fallen master.

Auron dropped to his knees and stretched out his arms. “God’s prophet will have me slain. Come to my aid, spirits. Ye demons, servants of the Devil and, yourselves fallen angels, see me as your servant. Use me to channel your power into the world. And grant me vengeance!”

Specter raised his blade and gritted his teeth.
Time to pay for your sins, Auron
.

Voices whispered in the chamber. They rose around him. His ears rang with their incessant groaning and cackles; they had nothing of peace or of goodness to offer. The dirt floor turned to ice at Auron’s feet and it spread from that point. The scythe froze in Specter’s hands, and ice grew over his feet, latching him to the floor. It spread rapidly up his legs, and he trembled as it touched his back. Wispy forms of skeletal people stepped into the light and clawed toward him. Helpless, he watched his fallen pupil rise and turn to stare back at him.

“There is only one power in this world that is truly to be reckoned with, my old master.” Auron smiled and stepped forward. “And you, even after a thousand and more years have passed, have yet to understand that it is not the power of the prophets, or of their God.”

“It is—” Specter struggled to say the words as ice formed over his chest. “You have rejected all that is good, Auron. And for that you will pay the ultimate price.”

The traitor flung his gaze ceiling-ward and laughed.

“Oh, mighty God, please,” Specter prayed. His body trembled. “Do not let him escape. Look upon me with favor.”