Halfstone: A Tale of the Narathlands (21 page)

Realisation struck Aldrick like a club to the forehead. “Darkna—the
temple that stands at the mouth of a mighty chasm! That is where Malath is
leading the dragon to gain him access to the power he desires—the Shard of
Heart’s Storm. That is where it is kept. He doesn’t know what he is doing! The
dragon will destroy the entire temple! We have to stop it. We have to go there
now!”

Illumir rose upon his four armoured legs. “Indeed we must, or else
life on this world will be extinguished forever. It appears fate led you here, Aldrick.
You need my help, as I needed word of this dragon’s return. So long as it is
stopped from destroying the temple I can help you defeat your foul wielder, should
you ask it of me. However strong his stormpower becomes in unity with this
‘shard’ you speak of, his body will still snap between my jaws.”

“I’m glad you are on our side, but I’m afraid we may be too late.
Today was the day Malath threatened to take the Shard.”

“Well, by my estimation the day is not yet over, and fortunately,
I have wings.” Illumir spread his wings to their full span. They were enormous,
webbed by thick, leather-like skin, the same white colour as his stone-plated
body. Each had five fingers composing its form. At the tips of these, more
green spikes protruded and gleamed brilliantly.

For a moment Aldrick simply gaped, then managed a faint “Whoa.”

“Come—we must go at once.” Illumir strode past him. He followed
but maintained a distance so as to avoid being crushed by the dragon’s lengthy
tail. With every step Illumir took, the ground shook and Aldrick feared the
roof would give way above them. Not a pebble fell. The rock that remained after
countless years of water erosion was sturdy.

They soon reached the area where Aldrick had woken in the air. It
appeared that gravity had returned to normal. The dripping water now reached
the bone-strewn ground.

“Illumir, it was you who stopped my fall, wasn’t it?” he asked.

“Indeed it was,” replied the dragon. “Wild animals often misstep,
as you did. I favour my meals fresh.” Illumir looked up and grumbled. “Aldrick,
will you allow me to carry you?”

“Carry me?” Aldrick wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that.

“Yes—carry you—between my claws,” confirmed Illumir. “You needn’t
be afraid. I have a gentle grasp and will be mindful of your flimsy body.”

“Well, all right then.”

Illumir raised one of his back feet then, after Aldrick had
hesitantly stepped beneath it, closed his claws around him and lifted him off
the ground. The dragon then began to scale the nearest wall. For the most part Aldrick
kept his eyes closed, dreading that Illumir might forget about him and either
let him fall or squish him. Thankfully, neither of these happened and they were
soon at the top. The light of the glow worms had vanished in Illumir’s wake and
the entrance tunnel was instead lit by the dragon’s own green flare.

At the point where the stone ceased to slope, Illumir set Aldrick
down. “Thanks.”

The naked daylight flooding the entrance of the cave was
blindingly bright. Aldrick covered his eyes with a hand while they adjusted.
Through his fingers he saw a figure approaching. It was Télia. His heart
warmed. She froze and let out a shrill scream. He realised she had just seen the
most profoundly terrifying thing in all her life, as he had when first
beholding Illumir’s fearsome majesty.

“Télia, Télia, it’s all right. He’s friendly.” Aldrick went
forward and embraced her. “He can help us.”

“No, no,” she cried. “Aldrick, it’s a dragon!” Her breaths were
rapid and her eyes frantic.

He grinned. “Yes, that is Illumir.”

Illumir took a step toward them and stooped his head.

“Hello, Télia,” he said, looking upon her with a smile that was as
polite as a dragon’s smile could be.

Télia gaped at Illumir for a moment, then her eyes began to
glisten and she buried her head under Aldrick’s neck. “Aldrick, I thought… I
thought I had lost you… but I haven’t, and… and now you have a dragon?!”

He stroked her flowing tresses. “I’m here.”

A swift arrow sped past them and splintered against Illumir’s
armoured chest. It had been sent from within a shaded patch of ferns.

Knowing he had forfeited his hiding spot, Kaal stood. His face was
as white as snow.

“Y… you two, get away from it,” he stammered, beckoning Aldrick
and Télia to him.

Illumir’s eyes narrowed. “Another human? He is your friend, Aldrick,
or shall I devour him?”

Kaal stumbled back and tripped over upon hearing the dragon’s
words.

“He’s my brother,” Aldrick said, going to Kaal. “Kaal, it’s all
right. The dragon is our friend, our ally.” He pulled him to his feet.

Kaal stared at Illumir.

“Friend? That’s nice,” he said blankly.

“Yes, and just as we do, he has pressing reason to reach Darkna.
It turns out there is a menace even greater than we knew.”

Aldrick hurriedly told Kaal and Télia of the malevolent dragons
trapped beneath the chasm at Darkna’s feet, and of the likelihood of their
imminent release. They seemingly failed to fully grasp what he was saying but
this came as no surprise—it sounded ludicrous. It was all truth, though, and
this mighty dragon here with them now was the one hope they had left.

“We must make haste,” said Illumir once Aldrick had finished
speaking. “Aldrick, you and your friends must travel with me.”

Aldrick stared up at him. “Travel with you? We can’t really do
that, Illumir. We don’t have wings.”

“Yes you do. You will sit on my back. You should find that the
gaps between my spires offer a fitting place to seat yourselves. I will fly
with caution and ease.”

“He wants us to ride on his back?” Kaal asked in a whisper,
avoiding eye contact with the dragon.

“It may be the only way,” said Télia. “We have very little time
and must take the quickest path.”

Kaal heaved a sigh. “All aboard, then.”

“We must set our horses loose first. De’ama will lead yours to
Galdrem.”

“Good plan.” Aldrick looked up at Illumir. “We won’t be long. Will
you wait for us here?”

“Of course I will,” Illumir said. “Go now, Aldrick, Télia and
Kaal. Return with your hearts hardened. There will be only darkness at Darkna
today.”

They left the dragon and returned to their horses, which were
happily grazing by the campsite. Télia uttered soft words to De’ama before
setting her on her way.

“Goodbye, chum,” Aldrick said, patting Tame on the neck. His steed
whinnied, nodded, then left with Stub to join De’ama. The horses carried away
with them travel provisions that were no longer necessary.

Before returning to Illumir, the three of them rallied together. Aldrick
surveyed Télia and his brother.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

Télia didn’t respond. She simply stared at him with wide eyes. He
knew she was anticipating the coming events at Darkna far more than the
airborne journey there.

Kaal shrugged. “What is it people say… ‘as ready as I’ll ever be’?”

“Right, let’s do this.”

When they returned they found that Illumir had scaled one wall of
the gorge and was gazing out across lands afar. Out in the open, the green
colour of the dragon’s spires was fainter and it was now his plated white crust
that shone fiercely, reflecting the sunlight. He stood a god of creatures.

Seeing them approaching, Illumir clawed his way back down, then lowered
one of his wings to the ground, offering a passage to their seats. “Come—let us
be on our way.”

“You first, Brother,” said Kaal, looking at Aldrick with an
expression that said “Don’t expect this to end well.”

After a moment of justifiable hesitancy, Aldrick climbed up
Illumir’s wing and awkwardly sat himself down between two of the dragon’s great
spires. There was enough space for Télia to find her way in behind him. She
fastened her arms around him and rested her head against his back.

After Kaal had seated himself between the spires behind them,
Illumir spread his wings.

“Hold fast,” the dragon grumbled. With a mighty thrust he launched
his rocky bulk into the air. Immediately, their backs were toward the ground.
They clung on for dear life.

Aldrick closed his eyes and willed the tug of gravity to weaken.

“Are you alive back there?!” he called out to Kaal.

“Mostly,” Kaal replied. Aldrick almost failed to hear him over the
rushing sound of air passing as they rapidly ascended into the sky.

Peering sideways, he saw they were nearing the height of the
weatherworn mountain peaks. His eyes followed their path eastward. Somewhere
away in the distance Galdrem stood, and beyond—Darkna—their journey’s end.

Illumir ceased flapping his wings and for a brief moment they
descended in a sharp dive, before the dragon spread them to their fullest span
and they transitioned into a swift and steady glide. Hazy clouds passed by
above and below them. The ground, when it was visible, looked like an
exquisitely detailed picture map. Everything was in miniature but drawn to
perfect scale. Aldrick wondered how many people had ever seen the world from
such a view, and how many could say they had from upon the back of a dragon
while the woman of their dreams held onto them as if there was no tomorrow.
Perhaps there would be no tomorrow.

He rested a hand over Télia’s. Whatever happened, he could not ask
to be in better company. He remained anxious of Jon’s fate, however. What had
become of him? Would he be there to fight alongside them, or had he already
fallen at the hands of Malath? May it not be so. Regardless, with those who
remained standing, Aldrick would stand with, and for those who no longer did,
he would fight until his dying breath to avenge. He knew now that he would
never have had it otherwise. This was his destiny.

17

THE SHARD OF
HEART’S STORM

Malath looked beyond the mighty archway. Darkna stood, a towering
stronghold, forewarning of the boundless precipice atop which it stood. Beyond
the temple’s multitude of columns and walls of grim stone, the ultimate prize
awaited him. Anticipation was causing his heart to thud like a sledgehammer. He
brought his mount to a standstill. So too did his faithful. No one uttered a
word. No one would; this was his hour, this was his day, one that had been robbed
from him for far too long… but no longer.

The dragon Aashkara, who had been slowly spiralling in the sky
above, dived like a bird of prey and perched on the temple’s court. It was upon
that very court, all those years ago, that Malath’s storm had been taken from
him. Today he would stand upon it and see history rewritten. The world would
behold true power and vision!

Malath signalled to continue and the procession began to ascend
the final length of road which led to the court steps. These proved too steep
for the horses to climb, so they dismounted. He took his frail and defeated
captives from their cart and dragged them up the stairs behind him. In the
shadow of Aashkara he set them down so that they could witness the proceedings—see
the chamber that sheltered the Shard, the one the Synod believed impenetrable,
demolished by his winged puppet.

Malath stooped to address them.

“See me become divine,” he whispered.

They didn’t respond. This didn’t bother him; in fact, it amused
him. Their eyes would soon be opened and their heads bowed.

Before directing the dragon onward, Malath strode to the edge of
the court and looked down upon the dreary grassland. The remains of the ancient
Sanswords’ bones lay in a chaotic, but nonetheless collective scattering across
the ground. By his hand they would soon live again; an army to end all others;
the rebirth of a demised race to decimate another. It was all so very close
now.

“Aashkara.” He spun on his heel to address her. “The Shard lies
within those aged walls. The warding enchantment placed upon its holding chamber
is fuelled by its own storm—the deed of a sniffling wielder who agreed to
shelter the Shard in exchange for all the comforts of a king. You may find the
enchantment sturdy but you will break it, and you will crush the life from the
wielder. The Shard does not belong to one so worthless. It belongs to me. Go
forth and retrieve it.”

Aashkara appeared hesitant. “Wielder, am I to simply believe that
you will let me live after I have completed this petty errand for you? What
assurance do you offer?”

Malath was infuriated. “I have given you my word. Do you think I
would break it?” He stepped closer to the depraved beast. “And do you think you
really have any choice? Your life depends on me!”

The dragon’s fiery eyes became slits. She scowled, then stormed
away toward the temple’s entrance. He watched her go, his own eyes narrowed.
Had she seen through his words? He couldn’t risk her suddenly turning on him,
however suicidal that might be for her. Fortunately, he could soon be rid of
the monster. Sustaining her life had been a hefty encumbrance, but it was to
pay off significantly.

Malath looked to his dear sister. She too eyed the dragon with
disdain. He took her hands in his. “All is in order. You need not be vexed.”

Selayna’s frown faded and she began to giggle. He kissed her cheek,
then left to oversee Aashkara’s chore.

The dragon stood before the pillared entrance to Darkna’s hall. It
was far too narrow for her enormous body to pass through, so she thrust one shoulder
against the encompassing wall. It was reduced to rubble. This brought to
Malath’s mind their accord. After uncloaking the Shard, Aashkara was to be free
to demolish this temple, pursuing her belief that it would free her kind from
the fires beneath them. Though her intent was commendable, it was heartbreaking
to think that the dragon held faith in such a profoundly ludicrous myth. He
would, in fact, be doing her a kindness in returning her to the Life Afterwards
before she had a chance to discover its falsehood.

He cautiously trailed the dragon into the hall, conscious that the
wielder in the Shard’s holding chamber, at least at present, possessed more
power than he. There the chamber stood, at the centre of an otherwise open and
bare interior—a room wrought of marble, its doorway flooding torchlight. The
wielder appeared as a silhouette inside. To avoid his attention, Malath veered
left and concealed himself in a shadowy corner of the hall. From there, he
watched Aashkara proceed, with bated breath.

“Surrender yourself, wielder,” the dragon snarled as she bore down
upon the chamber.

The wielder made no reply. Instead, he raised his staff and began
attacking Aashkara with fervent flurries of frost, their intensity
extraordinary. For a brief moment her entire body became encased in a thick,
transparent shell of ice before, with a deafening smash, she shattered it into
a multitude of tiny pieces.

Now in a deadly temper, she engulfed the chamber in a rampant
tempest of red fire that floodlit the entire hall. When her breath was ended,
black smoke subsided to reveal the chamber undamaged. The walls were not even
charred. The wielder inside was chortling.

“You stupid slug, you have no power over me!” he jeered, then
prompted two nearby pillars to collapse upon the dragon. She brushed them from
her like twigs.

“Fool, your end is me.” She began hammering her mighty body
against the chamber.

The presence of the warding enchantment became perceptible as
ripples across an unseen barrier, a hand’s breadth from the marble walls. The
wielder continued aggressively attacking Aashkara but, in her wrath, she was
irrepressible. Her blows kept coming, causing the entire temple to shudder and
rumble. Suddenly there was a thunderous crack as the enchantment broke and the
chamber exploded.

Before the stunned wielder could react, Aashkara flicked him away
and he became a bloody splodge on a far wall. His staff, carried with him,
disintegrated on impact. The power of the Shard was his no longer.

Malath stepped out from the shadows. “Aashkara, you have done
well. I am most impressed.”

The dragon turned and glared at him. “Well, wielder, what are you
waiting for? Come and claim your prize.”

He went forth.

“Wait for me outside,” he ordered.

She turned and stormed away, leaving him facing a thick plume of
dust. With patience absent, he raised a hand and swept it aside. The interior
of the chamber was now unlit. The torches which had brightened it were missing,
as were the walls on which they had been fitted. Malath looked up. From the
ceiling of the hall, six huge oil lamps hung on chains which he ignited to
provide light. He found himself amongst total ruin. The floor was a mix of
rubble, broken furnishings and various other indiscernible dust-coated objects.
In one corner was a circular settee. Upon it, a number of young whores lay
dead, crushed by falling marble. Left of this, a bare stone altar stood, upon
which the Shard must have rested. Malath went to it and searched the floor at
his feet. Though he could not see it, the Shard’s stormflow was so potent that
he could feel it—a warming breeze passing through his chest. It was very close…
there! It lay amongst stray marble blocks a short way away—a rough piece of
dark red metal surrounded by tiny, flickering sparks of green. Shivers washed
through him. This was it. He stretched out his hand and it came to him. He took
it with care but firm intention. Its storm coursed through him and he felt
blissful elation. Its power was his! He laughed aloud. All these long years and
now here he stood—a god among wielders.

Malath turned to exit the hall and found Dron and his dear sister in
front of him. They ogled at the Shard in his hand.

“Oh, Brother, it is yours,” Selayna exclaimed.

“What does it feel like, my master?” asked Dron in awe. “I can
feel it from here… I can only imagine what it is like to have it in your
grasp.”

Malath looked down at the Shard. “No, you cannot imagine. It is
like nothing else. I am… eternal.”

He strode outside. All eyes were set on him. He moved to the edge
of the court. Before him, the Sanswords were ready to be arisen. He held the
Shard out before him. Now was the time. With all its glorious power in his
possession, he found it an effortless task to summon the desert warriors’
souls. He willed them to once again be bound by skin and bone. Like winter mist
over a lake, they appeared above their skeletal remains then slowly began to
reanimate. Once awoken, they roared passionately at the sight of their kin
around them.

After boisterous celebrations, the Sanswords turned to Malath and
cheered, praising him with hands raised to the sky. Never had he seen these
creatures in the flesh. Their kind had diminished long before his time. Gazing
upon them now, he was impressed. They stood tall, their bodies armoured with
thick plates of sand-toned skin. Their eyes were dark; their hands were talons.
They were an army of death.

One—evidently their leader—stepped forth and bowed. They all
followed suit. This was what Malath had dreamed of—being looked up to, being
revered. Not devalued and treated like simple human scum.

He raised his hands. “Warriors of ages past, breathe the air of a
new dawn!”

They roared ever more fervently at this. He signalled for silence.

“I have granted you life. Now, do my bidding and take it from the
humans that plague this land, for they are undeserving. No doubt you bear deep
resentment of them. Do you not wish rabid revenge upon them for driving you
from your homeland? For driving you to extinction? Go now and have it. Begin
with their city in the west. Slaughter them all!”

The Sanswords’ battle cries were deafening. They turned and began
marching swiftly toward Galdrem. Malath watched them go, feeling wholly
powerful.

He turned to his faithful, who had been spectators of the army’s
awakening. They eyed him now, in silence, nodding their heads in recognition as
his gaze crossed them. Dron and Selayna were nearest to him, expressions of
admiration upon their faces. His captives remained huddled under his warding
enchantment. He bore down on them.

“So will you stand with me, or do you remain blind and foolish?”
he asked.

They failed to reply. Malath could see that their hearts were
sunken. Perhaps these remaining few truly were a lost cause… perhaps he should
be rid of them. No, not yet. He would allow them one final chance. He stood
straighter.

“Wielders, no longer are you imprisoned. You may move freely. But
choose your actions wisely. Any harm you deal upon my allies, I can reverse in
the blink of an eye. I implore you to align yourself with me. It is the wisest
choice and it is your only choice.”

Devéna shot him a vicious glance.

“Not a chance,” she said, stressing every word.

Malath sighed. He held fond memories of this old hag. She had once
been his tutor at Delthendra and had avidly supported his bid to become the
minister. Now she stood before him, refusing his kindness. She would pay dearly
for it, as would her gutless friends.

Just as he had chosen how he would end them—by imploding their rib
cages and crushing their organs, Dron stepped forward.

“My Lord, you will let me have my revenge, will you not?” he
asked. “That one is mine.” Dron pointed at Jon, the insolent wielder who had
robbed him of life.

Malath chuckled. “Ah yes, of course Dron. He is all yours.”

Dron curled his lip and marched straight up to Jon. He might have
looked ominous had he not been half the wielder’s height. “For you, there shall
be no returning.” His voice trembled with hatred.

Jon heaved a sigh of indifference. “Go on then, Dron. May it bring
you satisfaction.”

“Enough of this triviality,” snarled Aashkara. “This temple is
mine now. I shall not be kept from destroying it any longer. Deal with those
wielders elsewhere.”

Selayna turned and looked Malath in the eye. “Yes Brother, must we
not
tend
to this dragon before settling other matters?”

“Indeed.” Malath raised a hand. “Dron, hold for a moment.”

Dron stepped away from the wielder. “Fine.”

Malath looked up at the misguided dragon. “Aashkara, go now, see
your kin are freed.”

Aashkara snorted, then turned and trudged toward the temple.

“Now. Do it now, Brother,” Selayna muttered in his ear. “Return
that monster to the Life Afterwards.”

Malath raised the Shard in his hand… Aashkara stopped in her
tracks. He too hesitated. Was she conscious of his deceit? The dragon’s head
turned, but her attention did not fall upon him. She instead looked out across
the sunken land toward the long spine of the Mountains Nemduran. He followed
her gaze. There, in the distant sky, was a huge creature flying toward them. It
was another dragon! How was this possible? Had Aashkara secretively summoned
some accomplice to aid her? Apparently, this wasn’t so.