The Dragon War Read online

  Kneeling, Zokar used the light from multiple fire blasts over head to see well enough to open the lock and then the grate. One ball of fire was complimented by a lightning blast that hit the castle wall itself eliciting screams of pain and death from the guards. The city alarm was dimly heard over the commotion of the attack. The last thing Diamedes saw was the faint, glowing aura of green gas as it wafted towards them from south. A sight he had hoped to never see again in his lifetime as the pair jumped down into the drainage culvert.

  Zokar didn’t bother with the small brand that he was going to use for light. Instead he commanded Diamedes, “Pull out your dagger.”

  Diamedes reached into his belt and pulled it from its scabbard and it glowed a bright blueish hue. “That can’t be good.”

  “It will work and save us time, now run,” Zokar said.

  Without speaking further the duo ran, hunched over to avoid the low ceiling, towards the castle sloshing their way through only a few inches of water that remained stagnant till the next rainfall. Being an arid land, that didn’t happen very often but when it did, it filled the small water channel fully, flushing out everything in its path.

  They came upon yet another iron grate, locked with a similar looking device that Zokar had no problem with. After passing through, Zokar locked it again and continued his path counting smaller side passageways that were almost too small for a person to traverse. Overhead, the occasional ambient light from the dark night filtered into the passageway and the dim screams of panic, orders, and alarm could faintly be heard.

  Upon reaching a certain count, he motioned to his left and pushed Diamedes in first with the glowing dagger for light. After several dozen paces with the passageway narrowing to a point where they both thought they’d get stuck, they saw traces of faint light streaming through a grate. Diamedes couldn’t look back, his shoulders were almost wedged against the walls and he was hunched so far over that his ribs started to hurt again. “Here?”

  “Yes, move past the grate so I can unlock it,” Zokar commanded.

  “Easier said than done,” Diamedes replied, his chest now feeling constricted in the cramped confines of the side drainage passageway.

  Somehow, Zokar managed to get the small grate unlocked and pulled himself up while pulling the historian back so the man could stand upright with his chest and shoulders above ground level. The shouts of officers barking orders and men acknowledging them rose above the den of the overall battle raging outside the castle itself. From there, the faint sounds of women and children screaming could occasionally be heard as well as the near deafening roar of a dragon, “Quickly now,” Zokar urged.

  For a split second, Diamedes thought the pair of guards running past their small nook would see them, but their attention was diverted and their task undeniable. Standing with Zokar’s help, Diamedes moved to a shed that was their obvious objective. That door was also locked and Zokar made quick work of it. Without speaking they entered and closed the door having to leave it unlocked from the outside. Moving to the back wall, that was made of stone and part of the castle itself, the Balarian used a secret lever to open a passageway.

  “Too convenient,” Diamedes noted, not liking how easily they were penetrating the most protected compound on their planet.

  “We say that all the time,” Zokar suppressed a laugh at his companion’s statement. “Keep your dagger out for now.”

  “Understood,” Diamedes said, holding it out like a torch.

  The historian resumed following Zokar through a narrow passageway that was very short and took several turns at ninety-degree angles. He reached what looked to be a dead end and turned to Diamedes. “Ready for battle.”

  “What battle?”

  “I doubt anyone is in the closet on the other side, but we need to be ready nonetheless,” Zokar explained and without waiting for a response, he clicked the recessed button that activated the weight leveraged secret door that suddenly opened onto a small utility closet. Moving into the room which had faint light seeping into it from under and around a wooden door on the far wall, Zokar used great effort to push the concrete door back into place and reset the opening mechanism.

  “What now?” Diamedes asked, looking at the rows of mops, brooms, buckets, and other cleaning supplies that filled the room.

  “Put your weapon away for now,” Zokar began, then he started to adjust Diamedes’ robe and undershirt to make him appear simpler if that were even possible. “You look as if you could pass for a worker.”

  “And you look like a Balarian assassin,” Diamedes shot back, his voice and tone serious.

  “Hmm,” Zokar said, moving a hand to his chin and resting it there as the pair stood facing one another in the dark closet. “If someone confronts us, I’ll be the intruder and you’ll be chasing me.”

  Diamedes started to nod then tilted his head sideways looking up at the much taller and larger man. “Now you’re the one talking foolishly.”

  “In the torchlight, with the city under attack, I believe any explanation would be accepted at face value.”

  “Fine, I don’t think it will work, but I don’t want the fate of the world to hinge on how long we argue the merits of disguise and camouflage in a cleaning closet.”

  “Master Historian,” Zokar began. “You have a way with words.”

  “Lead on,” Diamedes retorted and grabbed a broom for good measure. Seeing the look on Zokar’s face he said, “What? I’ll have to have something to chase you with.”

  “Good point,” Zokar said. “Follow me.”

  The assassin put his ear to the door and listened for several seconds then, drawing his short blade, he opened the door quickly and peered out looking up and down the outer corridor each way in rapid succession. With a motion of his free hand, they were out and heading towards the center of the complex and the Onyx Tower.

  Zokar seemed to know where he was going and Diamedes followed in silence. Only once did they hear the sound of marching boots on the flagstones outside as a large group of soldiers marched in unison at a quick pace and the sound of their passing was quick and steady. They encountered no guards, no workers, and no government servants.

  Upon reaching the end of the barracks, Zokar looked out a side window and turned to Diamedes. “Are you positive you want to do this?”

  “Really? This is not an opportune time to ask me that.”

  “We can still go back,” Zokar explained. “I know you’re hell bent on confronting the High Mage, but I have to ask. Once we go out this door there’s no turning back.”

  Diamedes nodded, “Let’s do this while our distraction holds.”

  “Funny how fate works,” Zokar said, gracing Diamedes with a smile as the man moved to the door and opened it.

  The door led to a small stairwell that rose onto a courtyard at the base of the Onyx Tower. The courtyard was not a square or rectangle. It had three walls surrounding the tall, black tower that stood at its northern apex. Along each wall, about a stone’s throw in length per wall, stood a large sentry facing in and looking down at them apparently ignoring the battle raging behind them. All three men were armored in black plate mail with large spears that looked like a cross between a lance and a pike. They had intricate engravings within the polished black metal and they wore helmeted visors that concealed their faces.

  The pair moved to the main door at the base of the tower. There was a balcony higher above it that overlooked the court yard, but no one was visible on it. When they reached the door, Zokar took one last look at the sentries above and reached for the large knocker beckoning to them to announce their arrival. Before he could grab it, the door opened slowly but widely. Seeing no one, the pair stepped inside.

  They had entered the Onyx Tower.

  Chapter 7

  The High Mage

  The tower was lit by orbs of light adorning the circular wall that composed the tower’s base. The wall itself appeared to be made from pure rock. Obsidian in color, it did little to reflect
light and the overall appearance of the room was cast in a dim, ebony hue.

  The furnishings were lavish enough if not extravagant as one would assume considering the reputation of the Kesh seat of power. Several chairs, and a couple of tables, were present including a rather large one facing them at the far end of the room where it was evident that the High Mage sat there when conducting government business or receiving emissaries from other realms. Tapestries adorned parts of the wall.

  A door on the far wall behind the seat of power creaked open revealing a tall, thin man in a colorful robe and tasseled cap who walked with his hands behind his back slowly towards them at a leisurely pace. When he arrived, facing them he spoke, his tone low but clear, “Welcome Masters Zokar and Diamedes.”

  The pair looked at one another before they felt, more than heard, the main door closing on its own behind them, causing them to turn and watch as it sealed them inside. Turning their attention back to the steward Zokar asked, “May we have an audience with the High Mage? It is urgent.”

  “He is expecting you,” the man said, motioning towards a large stairwell off to the side. “I apologize for not being able to escort you personally, but you may find him at the top. You have been here once before.”

  It was a statement more than a question, but Zokar answered him, “Yes. Twice actually.”

  “Though only once at its pinnacle,” The man said.

  Zokar’s eyes narrowed as he replied, “Yes, only once was I invited to the very top.”

  “Then you know the way.” The man said, motioning towards the base of the stairwell to their left. “Proceed.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask for our weapons?” Zokar asked.

  The other man’s face lit up and he laughed a deep throated melody that rang off the solid rock wall of the tower. Once finished the man cinched his belt and spoke, “You are most amusing this evening, I would ask you to part with anything that could pose a threat to our esteemed leader, but neither of you possess such a weapon. Even that magical knife of his would do little to nothing against the power of the High Mage.”

  “Fair enough,” Zokar said, understanding that Diamedes’ glowing blue dagger was now known to the Kesh for better or for worse.

  The other man turned and walked back across the immense base of the tower towards the same small door that he had entered from without speaking further. The pair watched as he disappeared. Diamedes leaned towards Zokar whispering, “This is too convenient.”

  “You’ve said that already,” Zokar noted.

  The pair started off with Zokar leading the way. The tower was very high, and it took a long time before they passed each floor’s landing and reached the final stairs that egressed onto the broad, flat top of the tower. The door which laid horizontally was open and resting on the flat deck and they could easily see the night sky above as they prepared to exit the stairwell.

  “I’m ready,” Diamedes said, sounding as if his declaration was for his own benefit as much as for the Balarian’s.

  “Beware the High Mage’s voice,” Zokar warned in a whisper so low it was almost not audible to Diamedes even though they stood next to one another with their heads leaning in. “It is melodious, charming, charismatic and deadly.”

  “I’ve heard,” Diamedes said.

  “Let’s go then.” Zokar answered.

  Upon ascending, they spotted a tall figure across the tower top wearing a simple black robe with a pointy hat that only had four tassels that sat atop his head. The man had his back turned to them and was standing at the northern edge of the tower’s crenelated wall looking out over part of the city. In one hand he held a long, metallic staff that had a magnificent diamond adorning the top. It had to be one of the largest, if not the largest, gems in all of Agon. It was truly a sight to behold.

  What competed for their attention were the dozen or so dragons wheeling overhead in the night sky occasionally diving to unleash death and destruction upon the inhabitants of the Kesh capital. All around them, a faint shimmering glow pulsated in the shape of an orb as if they were at the center of a wonderful ball of rainbow-colored light. An intermittent pulse of energy was barely seen coming from the staff’s tip and melding with the force field around them.

  “Now that’s not something you see every day,” Diamedes said in awe.

  Before Zokar could answer a soft but firm voice graced their ears, “It is beyond explanation, both beautiful and deadly.”

  Diamedes started to walk towards the man, slightly off to the High Mage’s right so as to approach beside the man and not behind him. When he had almost reached the High Mage Zokar spoke a warning, “Do not go closer, Diamedes.”

  The High Mage spoke. “Your words pain me, Master Zokar. I thought we were allies, your realm and mine?”

  Diamedes looked behind him to see Zokar standing with his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword still in its scabbard. His eyes had narrowed, and he struggled to answer the High Mage. With great effort he managed a weak sentence that sounded harsh and disrespectful, “Balaria has never been a true ally. More like a servant or lackey of the Kesh.”

  The pleasant response contrasted greatly with the crude wording and articulation of the Balarian as the High Mage responded. “Our realms have worked in harmony for centuries. It pains me that you feel our relationship has soured to such a point of discord. Could we not put aside our differences and work towards the greater good?”

  Diamedes found his gaze drawn back to the robed man who had yet to turn, much less move an inch. All he could see was the back of the High Mages’ robe and his ever-pulsating staff of power. Mustering enough courage, he spoke before his companion, Zokar, could, wanting to spare the man the pain of sounding so uncouth in the presence of such a benevolent benefactor. “Now that is precisely why we are here, to work for the greater good of Agon against the draconus.”

  Neither visitor was sure if it was the formal Kesh term for dragon that Diamedes used, or the mere fact that Diamedes spoke when the High Mage was expecting a response from Zokar. At any rate, the High Mage did finally move and turned to face the men. His visage was obscured by the shadow of his hooded cloak and his eyes twinkled a myriad of colors. Using the term rainbow would be misleading since the man’s eyes glowed only one color at a time, but they changed their hue rather dramatically and quickly causing an almost hypnotic like trance to come over the pair of visitors. “Ah, the Royal Historian, Master Diamedes. You grace me with your presence.”

  Zokar answered almost immediately, and again his words were contrasted sharply and negatively compared to the Kesh Mage. “Don’t forget, that man put a bounty on your head to kill you, Diamedes. Beware with whom you are speaking.”

  The High Mage leaned over slightly and looked down at the royal historian who stood more than a head shorter than the leader of the Kesh. Indeed, the High Mage stood taller than Zokar and most likely as tall as the Northman. All Diamedes could see was a twinkling display of light that were the man’s eyes enticing him to trust and confide in him. The High Mage responded in this usual gentle manner, “A simple misunderstanding from a time long ago. I did issue a contract but only for just cause. It was rescinded weeks ago, I assure you.”

  “From a time long ago?” Zokar parroted the High Mage’s own words. “You jest for sure and you had no just cause other than being the sovereign of your own land.”

  Diamedes was starting to become annoyed with the ungracious Balarian, but for some reason a small urge filled his mind to grab the hilt of his dagger. He thought it a stupid thing to do considering that he was standing in front of the most powerful person in all of Agon. Nevertheless, he found himself slowly moving his right hand under his robe and gripping the dagger’s small handle and immediately his mind focused and everything visual, audible, and tactile became clear.

  “He is still alive and well and if I wished him ill will then why would I allow the two of you an audience with me at such an inopportune moment such as this?”

  The
man made sense, but this time Diamedes heard his words as if they were spoken by any man, not a charming, charismatic leader who enthralled those around him. Answering quickly, Diamedes said, “It’s all right Zokar. The High Mage is not only correct, but we should move past accusations and past actions regardless of why, when or by whom they were initiated.”

  There was a slight pause as Zokar seemed to assess the historian’s words and ascertain whether or not Diamedes was in full control of his mental faculties. Finally, the Balarian spoke, “As you wish, Master Diamedes. Do finish your business before one of these beasts fly by and makes our conversation futile.”

  There was a soft, but firm chuckle emanating from the High Mage at Zokar’s remark. It seemed out of place for a man of such high esteem to laugh, but that’s exactly what it was. The High Mage followed his laughter with words that were meant to sound harsh contrasting greatly with his prior speech. “None of these vermin dare to attack me here. I am invincible upon the fortress of my ancestors. Kesh can never be defeated.”

  The men stood in silence at the sudden fury of the Mage’s words as well as the unexpected turn from mirth to madness. After a dozen seconds, Diamedes spoke, “Then you agree that for the best interests of us. . . humans. . . we should stop our warfare and unite for the common good of our realms?”

  The High Mage stood upright and said one word. “Behold.” With that, the pulsating force field of energy dissipated and within a single second there was nothing around the trio on top of the tower. The pair felt naked next to the swirling dragons overhead and the High Mage standing next to them.

  With a single motion, the staff pointed slightly at what appeared to be a white dragon, smaller than the other chromatic dragons flying through the air and a simple beam of light shot out and hit the dragon behind its head where the neck and torso met. The dragon stopped moving altogether. It had inhaled and twirled to perform a fly by and hit them with its breath weapon. Now, its wings stopped moving, its maw remain locked in position along with all four of its limbs and the beast slowly wheeled over and plummeted out of sight to the ground below.