Lightning streaked jaggedly, illuminating the night sky in blinding flashes, followed by reverberating thunder. Clouds burst open with sheets of rain, pounding on the heads of Kilena and Targath as they navigated mazes of stone paths leading to a looming cathedral. Broad, charred ebony doors shielded them from the elements once inside. A worship hall lie ahead of them, small statues of dragons carved from dark stone, eyes of gemstones and claws of ivory, lined the walls to her left and right. At the end of a long carpet stood a towering monument of Ivna, rubies for eyes and polished bone for snarling teeth. The lofty emptiness resonated with their footsteps as Kilena followed Targath toward the menacing statue behind the pedestal.
His lean fingers caressed the ivory claws, searching for a particular one which bent downward with light pressure from his thumb. A click beneath Kilena’s feet pierced the white noise of rain pounding on the tall, steepled roof. She stepped back while Targath reached for the boards at her feet. A worn away space at the edge was large enough for his fingers to squeeze through, and then he lifted a hidden hatch upward on hinges.
“Can you see anything?” He paused, providing her a chance to answer. Kilena squinted into the darkness below, and then shook her head. “I thought so. Fey have eyes that let us see in pitch dark. Humans don’t. Let me take the lead for now.”
Gazing over her shoulder to the closed double doors behind them, Kilena quietly asked, “Will Utiss be safe?”
“I can’t say if she’ll be found or not, but she’s proven her mettle in battle. Don’t worry so much,” he persuasively reassured. “She’s probably more worried about you.”
Kilena lowered the hatch after following her guide into the dark. A set of rickety wooden steps descended to an underground tunnel supported with stones and lumber on each side. The narrow path sloped, descending between rough, dry walls of dirt before shifting to smooth stone. Targath moved slowly, taking his time to survey his surroundings after every step. “How-”
“Don’t talk, you’ll draw attention.”
Hushed, she withheld her questions but remained attached to his side as they squeezed between crevices to travel even deeper underground. She breathed as shallowly as possible, stepping lightly with near silent footsteps, attempting to mimic her guide. Dripping water from the saturated ground above echoed in every direction. The claustrophobic passage opened like a stream leading into a river, the cavern’s embrace releasing them to choose from multiple paths ahead. Kilena reached for Targath, hooking her fingers around his elbow when he paused. Using this newly attached tether, she followed him to the right. Her other hand reached for the smooth rock at her side to test the passage’s size.
Struggling to see an inch in front of her face, Kilena stumbled over an uneven section of ground and grunted when she caught herself on Targath’s belt.
He spun, gripping her upper arms and steadying Kilena on her feet. “You alright?”
“Yes, thank you,” she answered graciously. He clung to her arms and made no motion to continue, seemingly petrified. “Targath?”
“Shit.”
At first, only one cursed elf landed a distance in front of them, blocking the path forward with a bow aimed at Targath. A commanding tenor questioned, “The human is with you. Have you come to deliver her to us?”
“They already know,” Targath said, speaking below a whisper meant for her ear alone. “Trust me.” He turned his attention to the other fey, unafraid of the weapon aimed at him, and spoke confidently. “She has come willingly to plead her case to the high priestess and magistrate. She is not to be harmed until her fate has been decided.”
“Priestess Keteer has already decided this human’s fate, nothing she says can change that,” he sternly answered.
Two more cursed elves emerged from the veil of darkness and stalked toward Kilena from behind. One roughly took the unsuspecting knight captive, obscenely twisting her arms behind her back until she yelped. “Targath?” Uncertainty and discomfort bled through on her trembling voice. Forced to kneel, her weapons were deftly removed, including her second blade.
“Don’t say a word. Just do as you’re told,” Targath cautiously instructed.
Rough hands mercilessly wrenched their captive upright to stand. Kilena grunted, and was marched swiftly onward through the darkness to a cadence of padded footsteps. Only the hands unyieldingly gripping her elbows held her on her feet over the dozens of times she stumbled.
The sloping path leveled out, gradually illuminated by a soft white glow emanating from stones set within the smooth rock walls. Hundreds more were scattered like stars across the ceiling of a wide open cavern at the tunnel’s end, presenting a grand city on the other side of a stone bridge as if under a cloudless night’s sky. Kilena’s gaze shifted across the seemingly endless expanse, observing numerous paths climbing high and sinking low carved along the walls. In front of Targath and the other fey leading them, buildings emerged out of the darkness, comprised of stone as if they sprouted from the ground. “Your home is beautiful,” she breathlessly exclaimed. “I want to protect it.”
“Shut up,” she was brusquely ordered, and then struck between her shoulder blades with the pummel of a sword. Pain enough to elicit a grunt shot up through her neck and down her spine. Grimacing, Kilena stumbled to the side, then was shoved forward. “No one permitted you to speak. You will only speak when spoken to, outsider.”
Maintaining the ceaseless pace, Targath glanced over his shoulder and met Kilena’s pained expression. His lips thinned and eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring with a sharply exhaled breath, before he looked ahead. The path to their distant destination led them through busy streets lined with simple architecture comprised of conglomerate gravel made mystical by particles of engrained, shimmering limestone, giving every structure a marbleized appearance. Fey passing by were shrouded in dark clothing, save for their shockingly bright eyes in shades of yellows and reds. Their heads turned, attention following the prisoner being escorted toward the tower at the city’s center, like the piercing gaze of wolves keenly following prey.
As otherworldly as the fey city was to the human eye, Kilena sensed the static of bitter aggression, disgust and hostility reminiscent of how the citizens of Roselake greeted Targath. His people harbored similar resentment for anyone not of their own kind.
Kilena was taken to a temple at the center of the wide spanning city, adorned with pointy, reaching spires and archways for doors. The clamber of her entourages’s footsteps echoed as she was guided down a hall to a crossroads of seven other corridors spanning in each compass direction. Marching straight ahead, a wide chamber welcomed them with patches of kaleidoscopic gardens comprised of shiny, granulated limestone and fungi shimmering in cerulean, jade, and fiery orange. Some stood up in typical mushroom shape, others slithered like vines climbing dark columns, or grew flat across the stone garden. Beyond sat a table that spread almost the entire width of the room with many chairs on the side opposite from Kilena. The most ornate chair at the center was filled by a slender woman wearing a black and plum dress, concealing her from neck to feet. A collared cloak hung draped around her shoulders, seamlessly transitioning to black silk wrapped around a tapered headpiece from which elegant gold chains dangled to her chest. Only her slate grey face was visible, lips thin and red eyes sharp, cheekbones tall and jaw slender. Authoritative and stringent, radiating control, the air surrounding her demanded respect for her lifetime of rigid leadership. To her left sat another woman in a similar dress, white hair braided and twisted into a knot at the peak of her skull. Two other seats were filled by equally important looking fey women, but appeared younger.
Kilena fixated on the figure of a shorter stature, wearing a ragged robe, seated to the right of the priestess. Propped against the arm of his chair was a slender, white oak staff, branches cradling a hueless channeling crystal. She felt him leering back at her from under the shadow of his hood.
The scout leading Targath held out his hand to make them stop several feet away from the council’s grand table, and then stepped forward. “Please forgive my intrusion high priestess, magistrates, my lord,” he said, apologizing to each of them in turn. “Targath has delivered the knight you seek.”
“Is that so? Targath, your work is as efficient as ever,” the high priestess clipped with a grin.
“I have not delivered her to you for execution,” he swiftly corrected. “I brought her here to persuade you to turn against Ivna.”
A magistrate to the priestess’s right asked, “Why would we do that?”
Priestess Keteer’s eyes narrowed, causing their sanguine color to flare. “Targath, what you ask is blasphemy. Or have you spent so long above ground that you forgot who gave us this power.”
“Targath has spent so long above ground that he is infected with the light!”
Kilena looked between them as the speaker changed from the leader at the table to the magistrates.
“Darkness will cover the land and we will be free to roam again. We will conquer. The land will be ours, Amodeus has sworn to that.”
Her heart froze, fixing the hooded figure with contempt.
Targath interjected, taking this opportunity to paint a picture of the world his people sought to usher in, the future Kilena taught him would come to pass if they lost. “You wish to rule a dead world? Darkness will sap the life of every living creature. Kilena might be foolish and naive, but she has set out to defend anyone regardless of who or what they are. Amodeus and Ivna care nothing for others and will bring us all to ruin. They have no intention of honoring that promise. At best, we will end up at war with Adam!”
“Enough! Amodeus is present and I will not tolerate you insulting our prestigious guest,” the priestess snapped. “As the voice of Ivna, your disrespect is an insult to all of us fey. Tell me why I should not have your tongue cut out right now.”
“No, no, please let him continue. This is quite amusing,” the hooded figure arrogantly drawled with a lazy gesture toward Targath. “Why are you really so adamant about defending the girl? One little girl doesn’t have the strength to stop Ivna, let alone me.”
“I won’t let you harm her,” Targath said in a dark, menacing tone, hands clenched into fists.
“You know the fey are living proof of the power that Ivna’s corruption can bring,” Amodeus smugly informed. “The world will embrace that power, or cower and crumble to it. Which side will you choose? That is your only concern, and self preservation always wins.”
“Please, stop this,” Kilena pleaded, speaking out of turn. A dagger pressed to her throat before she could breathe again. She gasped, but this threat was not enough to silence her. “Can you not see this man’s evil heart? Pitiless and black, corrupted to the core.”
The hand around the dagger to her neck tensed, biting into her skin to release a warm, crimson rivulet descending to her collarbone. “Give me the order and I will kill her now.”
“Lower your weapon,” Amodeus calmly ordered. The scout hesitated before fully complying, snapping the dagger down to his side in a white-knuckled grip.
“High priestess, with utmost respect to you, you are being lied to,” Kilena implored. “You are forced to live underground because Ivna granted your wish to turn against the elves. Even after they have gone, only a few of you can withstand the light of the sun. Humans despise you for abandoning them. I understand how enticing the idea of a cursed world without humans is to you. You believe only you are strong enough to survive. The darkness that Ivna offers will lead to decay and destroy Draconiam. We must choose the more difficult path that offers the most rewards by finding a way to work in harmony. Destruction is not the answer, and if you will allow me I will continue uniting the world against Ivna. We can defeat this dragon who will bring death to us all, but only together. You will see that humans possess great strength and can work with the fey to bring peace.”
Amodeus casually rose from his chair and struck his palms together. Again. And again. A slow clap loud enough to echo in the vast council chamber. “How very noble, Kilena Maverick, a paragon of peace. However, your ideals are misguided, and without your trinket you are powerless.”
Kilena grit her teeth in defense against the insults the warlock slung at her. “You are wrong, Amodeus,” she declared with steadfast conviction. “My power lies within. My strength is in my heart. My skill, honed through experience. My spirit will never darken.”
Grasping his staff, Amodeus methodically paced toward the far end of the council’s table and rounded the corner. A tap accentuated his casual steps, using the staff to aid his progress.
“I will be a beacon for those who are afraid. My oath to protect others never falters. Even if you defeat me now, those who believe in me will still fight against you. Utiss, most of all, will never forgive you.”
He came to stand in front of Kilena, peering down at her from under his hood. The bottom of his staff raised from the floor. Concentrated magic gathered around and inside the channeling crystal held snuggly on top, drowning the vicinity in darkness by blocking out light from the fungi garden.
Targath’s limbs stiffened. Bearing down on his legs, he made to burst forward, but was held firmly in place by a fellow fey gripping his forearms. A second guard darted in, gripping Targath’s shoulders. Alarmed, he shouted, “Kilena!”
She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and raised her voice with resolve. “I am dragonkin, and they will unite against you!”
The air grew thick with corruption. A sample of the curse that Kilena warned others about filled the air. Breathing it in made the lungs shrivel and the heart pang with every labored beat. Her shoulders jerked left and right, fighting for freedom, but her forearms were squeezed until it brought grimacing pain.
Amodeus touched the channeling crystal to Kilena’s forehead.
“No, let her go!” Targath demanded, yanking futilely to free his arms.
A powerful burst of focused energy shot out from the crystal, aimed at Kilena alone. Her sapphire eyes sprang open wide, dull and vacant of life’s spark. Every muscle and fiber in her body seized. Jaws clenched, arms tensed.
Targath kicked out the leg of the fey holding his shoulders captive and burst free of the others. He lunged at Amodeus, tackling him to the floor with a thud.
Priestess Keteer shot up out of her seat. “Targath!”
Released from her captors’ clutches, Kilena’s petite physique turned limp and collapsed, folding into a heap of armor on the ground.
Four fey guards wrangled Targath away before he could punch the warlock to a bloody pulp. Amodeus was helped up to his feet, then he brushed off the guard and fixed his disheveled cloak. Bottles, charms, and a dagger hanging from leather belts around his waist rattled together. Ringed fingers combed back through long, shaggy black hair, and then drew up the hood over his head. He dismissed the feisty Targath with a wave of his hand, and then spit out blood that filled his mouth from a well delivered, ruthless fist. “What good is your hero without the spirit to fight?”
“Take Targath away! Find out what he knows,” the priestess demanded.
One hand clutched into a fist, he kicked and cursed them. “You’ve doomed us, and all of Draconiam!”
Kilena Shrelack 