Legs limp and useless, Targath’s shoulders throbbed from the strain of his own weight while being dragged by the arms. Through hazy vision he watched the light grow dimmer, and the doors made of rusted iron bars drifted by. Behind him, a door creaked open, and he was dragged inside before being unceremoniously deposited in the center of a small prisoner cell. The door closed, and the lock clinked. Footsteps faded, leaving silence as he hauntingly stared into the stone ceiling above him.
Bleeding lacerations and welts sent electrifying pain through his nerves, and prevented rest while lying flat on his back. Exertion, and the cold, fetid air made muscles throughout his tall, shirtless frame twitch. Each time Targath tensed, sharp stabbing pains around his ribs made his breath hitch, which led to an aggravated cough and the tangy taste of blood. Grunting, he made a futile effort to roll on to his shoulder. Tears streaked down his face, carving crooked paths through dirt on his charcoal face. Any movement was made all the more excruciating because of burns that seared holes through skin on his chest and thighs.
Targath’s eyes closed, chest heaving while laboring to catch his breath. “No. No, don’t tell me…” His head rolled to the right. Nothing except bare, damp stone. He swallowed back a lump of dread as he turned to look left. To break a person’s psyche and crush their will to live, it was common practice for cruel fey to leave the corpses of those cherished by their prisoners in the cells with them, and this was no different. Eyes closed, Kilena appeared to be resting peacefully. Her jaw slack, pasty complexion, and lips devoid of their usual pink shade. A frozen torso. All the signs of a corpse. “Kilena,” he uttered, her name giving him strength enough to temporarily ignore the pain. Driven by fear, his arms pulled him and his knees pushed him toward her.
Exhausted, he dropped onto his side next to her. Her cheek was cold to the touch of his trembling fingertips. His thumb hovered over her parted lips. Suddenly, he jolted far enough up on his elbow that his ear replaced his thumb. Holding his breath to silence his labored panting, he listened. The long, cartilaginous edge of his ear brushed against her lips.
The faintest hush of an exhale, but her breath was more frigid than the underground air.
Hastily, and not without a groan of protest from his tortured body, he bent his knee and shoved his hand into his boot. He fumbled to hook a slender chain and wrap it around his index finger. He collapsed again, using his shoulder to take the brunt of the force but still yelped. Both shaking hands held apart the chain, clumsily slipping it down over her head. He tucked the amulet under her tan shirt.
“Please. Please save her,” Targath huskily mewled. Expression contorted with a grimace and desperation, he studied her slumbering features. “This is all my fault. I’m sorry. Please let me fix this.”
The amulet of shielding did not take on any shape other than the bland one it sported for a disguise.
Targath flattened his palm over her chest, pressing the amulet down into her sternum. Pleading, he shouted, “For the sake of Draconiam this has to work!”
Nothing.
“Please. For me. Don’t leave yet,” Targath bitterly uttered. He leaned toward Kilena, quivering charcoal lips grazing against hers that were like ice. Nothing changed. She was not the same sleeping princess he had saved from the Crooked Crusaders, but she was not dead either.
His head lowered until his face rested on her shoulder, putting immense strain on his beaten body. He closed his fingers, gripping the collar of her shirt and the amulet all at once. “Please come back,” he whimpered. “Why you? It should’ve been me.”
Targath dropped despairingly onto his back, pain shooting through his limbs that made him cry out. He swallowed air through his clenched, arid throat. “I’m so sorry, I got you into this mess again.” His eyes closed, and he forced the heel of his palms into them. “I failed, Lana. Margaret. I’m sorry.”
***
Kilena felt the force of air rushing across her, heard the wind roar in her ears, as if she stood on the top of a mountain with wild gales sweeping against her. Except she was swaying, dipping and rising, the smooth surface she lie on continuously shifting. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was greeted by a bright yellow sin illuminating a pristine blue sky streaked with thousands of wispy clouds. Beneath her, cobalt blue scales shimmered in the light. Wings stretching expansively stroked like oars, gliding fluidly through the sky. Cautiously, she drew up her legs to kneel on the dragon’s broad back, and held on to ridges of protruding bone. “Hello?”
Resonating words in a rich, eloquent voice responded in her head. “Ah, you awaken.”
Ahead of them, a castle’s tall spire with a flapping flag pierced the sky. Sturdy walls merged into the side of a long, wavy mountain range with snow covered peaks. Beams of sun magnified by dense white fog haloed the castle’s base situated in the mountain’s shadow. Breathlessly, Kilena exclaimed, “Lateredeos.”
“Yes, Kilena,”she approvingly replied. “You have seen this place before, but only as remains after a fierce battle. This, dear dragonkin knight, is the way it was before. A direct fount of power to your world, the living world.”
The dragon carrying her dove toward the castle, and perched atop the closest turret with dark archer slits. Her front paws sank to the lumber boards stretching across the top of the turret to form a sturdy floor. Kilena slid down the crouching, bulky shoulder, and landed on her boots with a hollow clunk. She spun around to take in the dragon and stepped back to a better distance, her gear clinking and twinkling in the sun. “Synu,” she gasped, falling to her knees with her hands together in prayer.
“There is no need for that here,”the dragon chuckled warmly. “You are on the bridge between life and death. I plucked your spirit from among the others and brought you here,” she explained, raising an overturned paw in gesture to the many clouds above them, scattered across the sky like chalky brushstrokes. “As pleased as I am to finally meet you, the friend of my daughter Utiss, your time has come too soon. Draconiam is relying on you to turn the tide of war.”
Gaze locked on the royal blue dragon, Kilena rose to full height with arms hanging at her sides. “Greatest Synu, is this fight a losing battle? I was able to earn the aid of one kingdom, but the fey have already chosen their side.”
“There are many more allies to be made, Kilena, and you will win their hearts. I believe in you.” Synu lowered her head and folded her broad wings, looking more directly at Kilena.
“Please enlighten me. Humans blame Ivna and the god dragons blame Amodeus, which has created a void between us,” Kilena said, her voice an impassioned plea for understanding. “We have lost our faith, and the god dragons ignore us. I have begged Dotine to intervene now before Ivna gains strength, but he refuses. Did she corrupt Amodeus, or was it the other way around? Or is it true that they had a mutual goal?”
Synu’s sapphire, starburst irises hid behind layers of eyelids for a moment, blinking in passing regret, and expressed a warm breath through flared nostrils. “Ivna was the one who killed me, though it was humans that took Garreth’s life out of fear. This widespread confusion is understandable with all that happened so quickly and the chaos that ensued. Humans refused to take responsibility for the necromantic practices of one of their own. We, the dragons, also denied blame for Ivna’s actions,” she considerately ruminated. Her voice in Kilena’s mind sounded like a deep bell tolling with grief. “Dotine, my dear son, is burdened with guilt that his own creations succumbed to corruption until they turned against us. The truth, Kilena, is that Ivna and Amodeus created a perfect storm of distrust to turn all lives against one another. You must not allow that to happen again.”
“Then it is as I feared,” Kilena chimed. “All of this bloodshed and hatred… has been for nothing. Amodeus and Ivna are equally wicked and both must be defeated.” She closed her right hand into a fist. “Is there no reasoning with them? Why do this? Why ruin Draconiam when Ivna helped create the life that inhabits it?”
Synu hummed in thought, a rumble that resonated into Kilena’s bones. “To answer that question, you will need to ask Ivna herself, and Amodeus. All I can offer you is conjecture.”
Calmly, the dragonkin asked, “Will you please tell me what you think?”
After a moment of hesitant deliberation, Synu answered, “I think the prayers and wishes of our creations corrupted her.”
Kilena gasped, eyes lowering as her right hand drifted to rest openly over her heart.
“Humans feared death, and Ivna granted them vampirism; a curse that allows them to live forever while consuming the blood of the living, and some inhuman powers. Elves, divided, came to her with prayers of strength to rise against their own people. She granted them superior prowess, skin that allows them to hide in the dark, enhanced eye sight in shadows, and these cursed elves came in the dead of night to dominate Thavelona. They failed and were driven underground because their eyes cannot withstand the glare of the sun.” Synu paused, her gaze sharpening but never leaving Kilena, whose gaze remained cast downward. Together, they silently acknowledged the travesties Ivna wrought with Draconiam’s people as the catalyst. “My daughter, Ivna, the god dragon of the moon, night, and shadows became associated with death and despair. Her once pure heart, too kind to deny our creations their greatest desires, turned cruel by accepting, and granting, their wicked prayers. The day Amodeus sought her out for a pact, she granted him the power to raise the dead and their plot took shape.”
Kilena’s frown grew heavier, sapphire eyes locked on her own feet. “It was through the cruelty of everyone. Humans, elves, giants, dwarves… that Ivna became corrupt. She must have suffered terribly. Is there no way to undo this damage?”
“I’m sorry, Kilena,”Synu replied, her head swaying from side to side. “Ivna became one with the corruption, and now she seeks to horde this darkness. Where you and I would wallow in such hatred, she and her allies thrive. I know that if you could you would liberate Amodeus and Ivna from the darkness in their own hearts, but the only way to save Draconiam is to take their lives. As the sole remaining dragonkin, only you have the power to do that.”
A burdening weight settled on Kilena’s shoulders, and she inwardly sought resolve.
Synu raised her head while never relieving Kilena of her unyielding gaze. “Our time grows short. The magic that stole your life was powerful, evicting your soul and replacing it with pure darkness. I shall banish that wicked magic from your body and restore your life. Utiss was the final egg of my brood. She carries on my legacy as the god dragon of battle. She has chosen her ally wisely, just as I chose your ancestor as mine, and you even wear his amulet. He died delivering what should have been the final blow to Ivna, but she survived because her heart was not severed. You saved Utiss from Edith and put an end to her evil. I intend to repay your kindness.”
Eyes wide and distraught, Kilena exclaimed, “The amulet of shielding. That was your creation?” Lifting her head, she admitted, “I’m sorry, Synu, but Amodeus stole it from me!”
“You have a most trustworthy ally in Targath,” she replied, her thin, light blue lips curving into a smile. “Cherish that bond, as there are few forged as strongly as yours.”
Kilena’s kind, round eyes steeled with resolve. “I will, Synu. Thank you for your guidance.”
“Awaken and use your new gifts to save Draconiam at my behest. The god dragons will not abandon you. Tell Utiss that I am proud of her.”
Kilena Shrelack 