Erik And The Dragon ( Book 4) (37 page)

Tu’luh’s tail splashed into the lava, but the majority of his body landed on a red hot, yet solid, outcropping of stone.

“This is how the world will end, Erik!” Tu’luh roared. “It will end in fire!”

Tu’luh raised his head and blindly spewed a column of fire up the chute. Erik hugged the side of the wall, squeezing himself as close to it as possible so the fire wouldn’t consume him. After a few moments the fire ceased. Erik could hear Tu’luh snarling below and raking its claws along the wall.

“I am not dead, boy!” the dragon hissed. “My servants will lift me from this pit and repair my wing! Then, I will lay waste to your precious homeland. I will not spend any more time trying to convince you pathetic mortals of the error of your ways. There will be blood!”

Erik peeked over the edge of the ledge and saw Tu’luh up on his feet again. His tail was half burnt and only a stub of what it had been before. His left wing hung limp on its back, like a tooth before it falls out of its socket. Erik’s sword stuck out grotesquely from Tu’luh’s right eye, the flame now extinguished. Yet, despite all of this, the dragon seemed as strong as ever.

A sharp whistle sounded from above. Erik looked up to see Jaleal. The gnome held his spear over the edge of the chute. “Finish it!” Jaleal dropped the spear down to Erik.

Erik rose to his feet and extended his hand to catch the weapon. Below, he could hear Tu’luh shifting around and the telltale hissing sound deep within the beast’s belly that came only moments before the fire.

No sooner had the spear landed in Erik’s hand then the boy shouted at Tu’luh. “Here I am!”

Tu’luh cocked his neck to the sound and opened his mouth. Erik jumped from the ledge. The fire gurgled up and then rushed forth from between the jagged teeth like a volcanic eruption. Erik kept his eye on the sweet spot in the back of the beast’s throat and waited until the angle was right before he let it fly. The flames washed over him only for a moment before his trajectory took him out of them. His skin and clothes singed and smoking, he felt the sting of the heat growing the farther down he fell. Then the sound he had hoped to hear greeted his ears and made him smile.

The dragon hissed and choked. The flames ceased instantly, and the stifled roar lasted only a moment as the dragon recoiled back and cracked its head against the wall. Then it fell to the ground, wheezing and sputtering. Erik landed a moment later on Tu’luh’s broken wing. Bouncing twice before slamming into the hot stone outcropping. Despite his injuries, he jumped up and scampered back onto Tu’luh’s wing to shelter him from the heat. The beast tried to shake Erik from its wing, but it was too weak.

Erik saw the glistening red point of the spear sticking out the back of its neck, just at the point where the base of the skull connects with the neck. Tu’luh quivered and trembled. His blind eyes turned toward him and a weak voice emitted from the dying dragon’s throat.

“You have doomed us all,” Tu’luh said. “The vision I showed you shall come to pass.”

Erik Stood and climbed up to the dragon’s back. He could feel the slowing breath beneath him. Every ache in his body was replaced by peace as his enemy weakened. He stood tall upon the beast and looked down at him. “No,” Erik said decisively. “Our world will live, and we will be free.”

Tu’luh ceased struggling and let his head fall to the stone. His last breath whooshed out in one hot, final flame. Erik walked up the dragon’s neck and pulled his sword from Tu’luh’s eye. He sheathed it and looked up to the top of the chute. The nearby lava roiled and churned around him. Waves of heat drenched him in sweat and sapped what little energy he had left. He only faintly heard Jaleal call down to him, but he couldn’t hear the gnome’s words.

The triumphant champion sat upon Tu’luh’s head and closed his eyes. He sat there, accepting that he would not be able to escape the pit. He knew that Lepkin would continue to protect the book, and at least now Tu’luh was dead. So was the warlock who destroyed his home. He thought about all of the people who had died recently. Numerous Blacktongues, Tukai the warlock, the shadowfiend that Lady Dimwater had slain, Lord Cedreau and Timon, and countless others that had fought against him. In that moment he held no more anger toward them, only pity. Then he thought of his friends who had stood by him. Trenton Lokton and his wife Raisa, who had taken him in and adopted him as their own. Master Lepkin who taught him the lessons he needed to learn in order to triumph in this moment. Al, who had literally given half of his life force to protect him when Janik betrayed him. Marlin and everyone at the temple, and then he thought of Jaleal. Erik opened his eyes and looked up to the edge of the chute, searching for any sign of his friend.

He wasn’t sure how the gnome had survived Tu’luh’s attack. Erik had watched the flames engulf him, but yet he had at least had the strength to give Erik the spear. Erik slowly struggled to his feet and looked back down the dragon’s neck. The spear was no longer there. Only a ragged hole remained. Could it be? Was Jaleal
still alive? Or would the spear return to its master even if he were dead?

Erik watched the rim of the chute. Then, a coil of rope flew out over the side and dropped down, the slack flopping on the dead dragon’s back. Jaleal leaned over the edge.

“Sorry, Erik, but there aren’t any plants out here to help you out, so I had to go and find some rope.”

Erik smiled and went to the rope. His joy at seeing his friend gave him renewed strength. He grabbed onto the rope and gave it a tug, checking to see if it was secured. Satisfied that it would hold him, he climbed up. It was slow going. His hands were sweaty and could barely hold onto the rope without sliding down. He pinched the rope between the soles of his boots and pulled himself up, hand over hand, until he finally crested over the ridge and crawled to rest on the surface of the great chamber.

“We don’t have much time,” Jaleal said. “There are others coming.”

Erik looked up at the gnome and saw that other than a singed beard, he was intact. “How did you survive?” Erik asked.

Jaleal winked. “I am Jaleal,” he said as though that was explanation enough. The gnome then turned and limped toward where his spear was stuck in the stone holding the rope secure. Erik noticed that the back of Jaleal’s clothing was burned away, and his skin was sorely burned.

“You are hurt,” Erik said. He pushed up to his feet and went to Jaleal. The gnome turned and smiled.

“The dragon is dead, and the spear is happy,” he said. He cast a glance to the tunnel. “Come on, we have a long journey ahead.” He pulled the spear from the stone and let the rope slip off to slither over the side of the hole. Jaleal pointed to the rear of the chamber. “There is a small tunnel this way. Come, before the others find us.” The two of them made haste for a man-sized cavern behind the largest mound of treasure. About thirty yards beyond the main chamber, Jaleal pointed to a small side chamber.

“What is this?” Erik asked.

“This is where I found the rope. There are other supplies in here.”

Erik moved in, quickly scanning the racks of weapons and staffs. He spied a pile of chainmail and then his eyes lighted upon a particular item. He went to it and pulled it from the pile. “Feather mail,” he said as he held the shirt up for size. He slipped it on and found that it fit him well. Then he rummaged around the table nearby and found a leather apron. “Here, we can use this to cover your wounds.”

He turned back around and saw that Jaleal was lying on the ground. He ran to him and knelt down. He could hear the gnome breathing, but no matter how many times he gently slapped his face, Jaleal would not wake up.

“Come on,” Erik said. “You can’t quit on me now.”

Then he heard shouting from the main chamber. Angry voices yelling frantically as they discovered Tu’luh lying dead at the bottom of the lava pit. He knew he was out of time. He hefted Jaleal over his left shoulder and grabbed the spear with his right hand. Then he ran for everything he was worth.

The tunnel flashed by as he descended down several steep sets of stairs, almost stumbling more than a couple of times. Then he picked up the pace as the tunnel smoothed out and the
grade of descent decreased. He could still hear the angry shouts echoing through the tunnel, but they were far behind him. He could only hope that this tunnel actually led out of the mountain somewhere, instead of looping him back to the main hall and dropping him in the middle of an angry mob

His prayers were answered when the tunnel wound around a sharp curve and then opened out into the valley near the base of Demaverung. Erik quickly tried to get his bearings, and then he sprinted down the mountainside, hopping over the jagged rocks and falling a couple
of times to slide on his backside as loose rocks gave way under his weight and swept him downward at blinding speeds.

Once he reached the bottom he glanced back to see if he was being followed. His eyes didn’t see anyone at the cavern’s opening, but he wasn’t ab
out to take any chances. He ran off into the night, hoping that he was heading east, and praying he would be fast enough to save his friend.

Aparen moved silently through the forest. He had spent the last several days interviewing the townsfolk about the vampire. Most of them had been too afraid to speak of it, but a couple had given him some idea of where to find the dark creature. Following their advice, Aparen moved east, into the oak forest. He followed a stream up into the rocky mountains nearby. He slowed when he approached the small waterfall that fed the stream. Somewhere around here, there was rumored to be a cave, and in that cave, was the vampire.

He moved up along the cliff wall, scanning the mossy stones for any hint of a depression or hidden entrance. As he slid behind a great, round boulder half-covered with algae, he
found what he was looking for. Had he not stubbed his toe on a small, jagged rock, he might have missed it the opening was so small. He crouched down, moving to slide sideways on his belly through the narrow opening. The rock above grazed his buttocks and the back of his head, but soon after he slid his leg in he felt that there was a drop off, and the small opening gave way to a much larger cave.

Slowly he maneuvered his feet so that he held the side of the opening with his hands and cast his legs over the edge to find a foothold below. Once he did so, he pushed his torso back and slowly climbed down. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he was able to descend more rapidly. He climbed down a series of handholds that had been worn smooth by frequent use. It must have been thirty feet of climbing before he reached the cave floor. Then he turned and peered into the darkness before him. His natural eyes were not strong enough to pierce the shadow
s, so he decided to transform into his more powerful form.

Once his body was done changing, he easily discerned everything in the cave. He could count the bats hanging from the small stalactites above, spot the large spiders crawling along the wall to his right, and, more importantly, see his way through the cave. He walked forward, mindful of the sheer drop to his right that descended into a crevice roughly fifty feet deep. To his left were a couple of smaller caves branching out into the belly of the mountain. He sniffed the air cautiously, and then decided to continue onward through the main cave that ran along the crevice.

As he went deeper into the cave, his nose caught the unmistakable scent of blood. The odor became stronger as he continued to stalk among the shadows in search of his quarry. After a while another tunnel branched off to the left. This time he followed the new route. The ceiling was tighter in this area, forcing Aparen to hunch down to avoid striking the jagged stone.

Suddenly the tunnel opened to a large chamber filled with bones, as if a great beast had discarded its meals for hundreds of years. The smell of blood was almost overwhelming now, but there was a new scent too. Something sweet, yet it also held a hint of musk. Without needing to think about it, Aparen knew that he smelled the vampire. He crept into the opening and searched the area. There was no sign of any movement.

To the right the floor inclined up to a small landing of stone, upon which stood a man with silver hair that hung down to his buttocks, but was kept neatly in a single plait and held together with a series of silk bows. He wore a leather vest over a silk shirt tucked into wool trousers that were in turn tucked into mid-length leather boots. The man seemed to be standing in front of a desk or pedestal of some sort and reading something. Aparen took one more step into the room and the man raised his head as if suddenly aware of his visitor.

“Do you know why I have the bows?” the vampire asked in a surprisingly low voice for such a wiry frame.

Aparen didn’t answer. He just kept his eyes on the vampire.

The man turned around calmly, revealing a disfigured, gaunt face accentuated by long, sharp fangs that hung over his bottom lip. Void, black eyes stared out at Aparen and
a thin, gray brow arched high on the vampire’s forehead. “I have one bow in my hair for each century I have lived.”

Aparen still remained quiet.

The vampire folded his arms. “In all those years, how many do you think have come to slay me?” the vampire asked. “Many have come to test their mettle against me, as evidenced by the piles of bones you see around you here. I have taken pleasure in devouring each and every one of them. What makes you think you can succeed where they have failed?”

Aparen readied himself. His muscles tightened and he stretched his wings. He let out a feral roar that shook the entire cave. The vampire stood still, unimpressed. He locked eyes with Aparen and then launched off from his perch with ethereal grace and speed, baring his fangs and hissing. Aparen lunged to the side and threw a yellow bolt of lightning at the vampire. It sizzled and crackled through the air, illuminating the chamber, but it did not hit its mark.

The vampire disappeared in a puff of smoke only to reappear next to where Aparen landed. He seized Aparen’s shoulder with inhuman strength and bent down to strike with his fangs. Aparen quickly reacted, shoving his talons into the vampire’s chest and then sending a bolt of lightning out from his palm, connecting immediately with its target. The vampire was thrown back to crash through a pile of bones.

Aparen then opened his mouth and sent flame after the vampire. Again the vampire disappeared in a cloud of smoke. This time Aparen leapt into the air so that he was above the vampire when the creature reappeared. He rained down a pair of fireballs at the vampire. One of them struck the monster on the shoulder and the other missed. The vampire howled in agony and jumped back to his landing.

The vampire hissed, baring his fangs at Aparen once more, then he turned and pulled a wickedly curved scimitar from a mount on the wall that seemed to appear when the vampire reached for it. The vampire slowly drew the blade out from its scabbard and dropped the scabbard onto the stone floor.

Aparen let loose a massive ball of lightning. The vampire stood calm waiting for the spell to come in range, and then he sliced through it with his sword. The lightning dissipated harmlessly and the vampire grinned.

“You shall die as all the rest,” he hissed.

Aparen reached around his back and pulled his magic dagger out. He watched the vampire descend from the perch once more. Aparen floated down to the ground and waited for the right moment. The vampire came within a few yards and then halted. He flashed an eerie smile and then charged forward. Aparen sent a bolt of lightning straight out. Just as he expected, the vampire disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Aparen then took a big step toward where the vampire had been and whipped around with his dagger, launching it directly behind where he had been standing. Just as the vampire reappeared, the dagger pierced through his chest. Aparen seized upon the vampire’s shock by lunging forward. He threw two more lightning spells, blasting the vampire in the stomach and face. Then he reached out with his left hand and stabbed his talons through the vampire’s sword hand. A massive kick to the vampire’s abdomen dropped the vampire to his knees and then Aparen placed his right palm on the vampire’s forehead.

The vampire looked up with wide, dead eyes. Aparen wasted no time sending all of his magic through his right arm and crushing the vampire down to the floor with a massive psionic blast. The vampire moaned weakly and struggled to rise up again. Aparen then bent down and placed his knee squarely on the vampire’s back. He then pulled the scimitar free from the vampire’s grip and rammed the blade through the vampire’s upper back to pierce its heart. The vampire cried out in agony and went limp.

“You can’t kill me,” the vampire hissed. “I am immortal.”

“No, you are undead,” Aparen corrected.

Aparen pulled on the vampire’s braid, lifting him up enough to grab the handle of his dagger that still protruded from the vampire’s chest. As he wrapped his taloned hands around the handle, he felt his dagger pull the vampire’s magic out of him. The energy and power then transferred from the dagger, into Aparen and he felt his own power strengthen
. He also felt his wisdom and mind become enlightened with the vampire’s experience, like it had when he had consumed the bear’s energy. A smile crossed his lips and he closed his eyes as he drank it all in. The feeling was indescribable, like drinking from a crystal clear spring after wandering in the desert for days. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was over and the vampire turned into ash, leaving only the dagger, the scimitar, and the vampires clothes.

“Now you are just dead,” Aparen said smugly. He looked down into the pile of ash and found a hard, black mass. He picked it up and inspected the petrified heart. He shifted back into his human form and then he put the heart into the container that Dremathor had given him. In an instant, he was whisked away.

He found himself standing in the middle of a small room with marble floors, bronze pillars, and a pair of chairs facing each other. There were no doors, and no windows, yet the room was as bright as if it were a solarium during the bright afternoon sun.

“Have a seat,” a voice said.

Aparen turned, but saw no one. He assumed Dremathor was either in the room, or nearby. “We had a deal,” Aparen said.

Dremathor appeared in one of the chairs and smile devilishly at Aparen. “And I see you have completed your task, and quicker than I expected I might add.”

“Where is Silvi?” Aparen asked.

Dremathor nodded and snapped his fingers. Silvi appeared in the room, shackled at the legs with iron bands. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but she seemed unhurt. “She is fine,” Dremathor said.

Aparen tossed the container to Dremathor. “Here is what you asked for.”

Dremathor opened the container and removed the petrified heart. “Did you consume his energy?”

Aparen nodded. “I did.”

“It felt good, didn’t it?” Dremathor inquired as he turned the heart over in his hand. “You gained some insight from his experience, some additional power from his strength, and yet none of the vampire’s undesirable traits were passed on. It’s incredible, isn’t it?”

“Can we go?” Aparen asked.

Dremathor nodded and motioned to the chair. “First I would speak with you. Have a seat.”

Aparen moved to the seat, setting the vampire’s scimitar across his lap. He noticed Dremathor’s thirsty eyes upon the blade like a child might look upon a chocolate cake left unguarded on the kitchen table.

“That blade is mine,” Dremathor said.

“The vampire had it, I killed him. Now it is mine,” Aparen said sternly.

Dremathor cackled. “No, you don’t understand. The vampire stole it from me. I want it back.”

Aparen looked at the blade. “Why would he steal it from you?”

“Well,” Dremathor said with a shrug. “He didn’t steal it from
me
so much as he stole it from the man I gave it to. I sent another to slay the vampire. I gave him the sword. When the vampire killed my champion, he kept the blade.” Dremathor held his hand up in the air and the blade flew out to meet its master before Aparen could blink. Dremathor slid his fingers along the blade and admired the way it shone it the light. Then he set it adrift next to him and it disappeared from the room. “For returning it, you have my eternal gratitude.”

Aparen frowned, not sure what to think of the whole mess. He glanced to Silvi. As he did so, her shackles fell from her ankles and she was set free. Then, as the sword, she disappeared from the room. Aparen jumped up from his seat. “What have you done with her?” he shouted.

Dremathor motioned for Aparen to sit. As he moved his finger, an unseen force shoved Aparen back into the chair and held him there. “I am a man of my word,” Dremathor said. “Don’t worry about that. She is free and waiting for you. Once we are done chatting, I will send you to her and you may do as you please. I have the amulet, and you have brought me the vampire’s heart. You even returned a precious item of mine that I had counted as lost. I want to offer you something in return.”

“What?” Aparen asked.

“You seek power, I can see it in your eyes, and I can smell it on your breath,” Dremathor said. “I can grant you the power you seek, and I can help you establish a new coven so you can build upon your power.”

“Why would you do that?” Aparen asked.

Dremathor shrugged and pulled the amulet out from under his robes. “Have you heard of the Black Fang Council?” he asked. Before Aparen could answer, Dremathor shook his head and waved the notion away. “Of course you haven’t,” he said. “Let’s just say that it is a powerful group of shadowfiends. I used to be one of them.”

“Used to be?” Aparen asked.

Dremathor nodded. “I now have everything I want. I don’t need the council any longer. Besides, I am afraid that the group will not last much longer now that…” he paused and put the amulet back in his robe. “I suppose it matters little to you.”

“What?” Aparen asked. He was utterly confused and unsure what Dremathor was alluding to.

“Maybe I will tell you one day, but I am not sure you are ready just yet. For now, tell me whether you would be willing to accept my help. If you are, I can send you to a place where you may learn how to increase your power, and you will be able to build a new coven, would that interest you?”

“What is in it for you?” Aparen asked skeptically.

Dremathor grinned. “You have already given me so much,” he said as he patted the amulet. “What do you say, will you accept my help?”