34. Drakonis
34
DRAKONIS
D rakonis landed and transformed in Zillah. He could hear the Drakaina, in the distance, calling out to him and he would release them. Something within urged him to do so. The portal to the underworld had to be nearby. He had sworn to Clara he would retrieve her in the Underworld and he never went back on his word.
From deep within his chest, Drakonis roared.
This was not the way things were supposed to happen. Clara was not supposed to sacrifice herself for him to awaken. Kazimir was not supposed to kill his mate.
This hole in his chest felt worse than death. He was suffocating in his suffering. When he went to the Underworld would he find a corpse or…
An image of Clara in death’s sleep sent him over the edge. He grabbed the nearest column and threw it in the direction of the ruins. The ruins… the mint leaf and the river of fire. It took him in dark waters before. Would it take him to the Underworld next?
Phaedrus manipulated him his whole life, he would not allow him to take this away from him. Drakonis would take this chance.
“Drakonis, what are we doing here? Are we not joining the others?” Yelena asked, pulling at his sleeve. His whole body vibrated with anger. Somehow, he found words.
“Adad Komnenos. Lead my mother and the others to the safe region,” Drakonis said, not looking at his mother.
“What will you do?” His allies, and mother, were frightened of him. All this talk of the Heir, yet they tremble before him. They did not see him as Drakonis anymore.
That’s fine . Drakonis thought. Would they be wrong? I am not the same.
Not until he had his mate.
“I have someplace I need to be,” Drakonis said.
“Ya don’t expect us to let ya go by ya’self do ya?” Alastair’s accent became thicker.
“I expect you to follow orders,” Drakonis answered. “Kazimir may have taken Ouroboros, but I am still Prince.”
“No, you’re the Emperor,” Vladislav said. Adad Komnenos and Mikahel Bringas nodded. “Kazimir thinks he has won by slaying Konstantin, but only the strong follow you my lord. They always have.”
“Then my will should be indisputable. Leave and join the others. Else, I’ll be harsher than my father ever was.” He ground his fanged teeth.
Crack!
Drakonis looked around. In the shadows he saw a hooded man. Right before her throat was cut, Clara had warned Kazimir against this figure. Who was he? His face was hidden. Drakonis took a step. Clara had been claiming someone was following her this whole time. He thought it was Kazimir, or the Pythia, but could it have been this faceless man.
A smirk appeared from under the hood as he looked up into the sky. He knew Drakonis could see him, but he did not care.
He quickly realized why.
Flaming balls flew from the purple skies. Adad and Mikhael covered his mother, running with her as Drakonis had commanded. Vladislav and Alastair withdrew their weapons again.
“You thought you won brother! You should have killed me!”
Kazimir landed with Valen and Loukas. The latter looked at him with wide eyes, unsure of what they were truly seeing. Kazimir looked unkempt with clothes half torn and magick burns across his chest and neck, clashing with his bright scales. They stood tall and sharp, making him look more beast than he had ever seen.
Drakonis did not hesitate. He unsheathed both of his swords, charging for Kazimir.
Clang! Clang!
Kazimir moved better than he had thought, but Drakonis was faster.
“You dare show yourself to me after what you have done! After your defeat?” Drakonis growled. He kicked Kazimir in the gut, sending him flying towards the tree line. Drakonis followed. An orange ball formed in Kazimir’s mouth as his back lied on the grass. Drakonis dodged last minute blowing his own white flames. Kazimir rolled, jumping out of the way.
“I did what I had to do!” Kazimir bellowed.
“You never had to kill father! You never had to turn against me! And you damn well did not have to murder my mate!”
The mention of Clara had him moving like a mad man.
“The woman was not supposed to die.” Even Kazimir’s face paled as he spoke of her. “I don’t know what came over me Drakonis! But what’s done is done.”
“It’s not done. Not until I kill you,” Drakonis spat. He jumped again, his white hair moving like a curtain against the wind. His curved sword pierced through Kazimir’s stomach, piercing his kidney. The other went for his neck, but Kazimir ducked his head, kneeing Drakonis.
“You’re uglier than before. You look like those bastard gargoyles.” Kazimir panted. In the distance, Drakonis heard more swords clashing.
He looked like Phaedrus, but the mere name of that man made his blood boil.
The hooded figure ran past them like a blur. It was then that it clicked. The reason that Kazimir challenged him to a fight that he had no way of winning. When he wasn’t fighting, he was conversing, as if his words were meant to distract him.
Drakonis gripped both blades, dashing after the hooded man.
“Drakonis! You do not run away from me!” Kazimir bellowed.
The hooded man was faster than any magick person he had ever fought. He moved in a zig zag pattern. Drakonis easily caught up. Kazimir was intelligent, but this man, or woman, had to have some part in the recent escalation in events.
He moved through the woods as if he knew them inside and out, so he had to have been in Ouroboros for quite some time.
“Drakonis!”
Deep in focus, Drakonis did not realize Kazimir was hot on his trail. He lost track of the hooded man. Instead of grass, his back tore through stone and clay.
“Stop turning your back on me!”
Kazimir’s face was ruddy in anger. Soon he would die. His punches rained against Drakonis’s face. He took one fist, bending it at the wrist.
Chanting was louder than before. It was the Drakaina song; collectively begging to be released.
“AHHH!”
“You would be the expert on the subject!” Drakonis roared. He grabbed Kazimir and tossed him across the area until he hit a pillar deep in the entrance of the ruins. A madness seemed to take over him then as he realized where he was.
Blood of the dragon
Fires of the Undead
Scale of the Chosen
Give us, Oh hero!
That which will
Break these chains
A new, less cryptic, chant. Were they Drakaina finally able to speak to him directly?
“I want this world to feel my wrath,” Drakonis mumbled. “I want everyone to feel the death of my father, the fall of my people, and the death of my mate.”
“No! I cannot be here!” Kazimir bellowed, grabbing the sides of his head. Before Drakonis would have felt pity, and let his brother go. But he was dead inside.
“Take the blood of the fallen for your resurrection. After all, royals have the purest of dragon blood. Isn’t that right dear brother?”
Kazimir’s screams were soon silenced as Drakonis took the side of his dead and slammed it against the entrance of the ruins. Drops of red crimson dripped from his pointed ears and fell on the stone pathway. The Drakaina screamed in what sounded as victory. Drakonis walked in, remembering the way the suits of armor attacked he and Clara. He would jump from vines but desecrate all that stood in his way of the portal.
He sheathed his swords at his waist.
“Blood of a dragon,” Drakonis said. He lifted his palms and white flames circled brightly. “Fires of the Undead.” He threw the flames against the walls. Instead of going out, they crushed the armor and bounced into an unlit, dilapidated chandelier. The room lit up as if he were returning to its original structure.
Gold, silver, blue, and black circled the rooms he walked through. Nothing harmed him and nothing stood in his way. He arched his wings and flew the rest of the way, went through walls, circumvented the traps, until he came into the sacred room he experienced the fiery river. Broken pottery was scattered everywhere.
He took the biggest piece he could find, setting it on the mint leaf in the center of the room. Lifting a finger to his exposed neck, he ripped a scale and set it down.
“Scale of the Chosen.”
Drakonis spat fire on the scale, and all was silent for a few moments. Then the ruins shook, the Drakaina laughed, and flames consumed the room again. He did not collapse to his knees but glared at the portal that was appearing. He flexed his claws, ready for a fight.
“I’m coming Clara,” he said, as he closed his eyes and let himself be carried away into the darkness.
From the stones of ruins to the starless night. That is what it looked like this time. He was not underwater with Drakaina floating about, but in a sky tunnel. There were no stars, clouds, or moon, only black leafless trees and red poppies. The silence was unnerving. Even if there were no voices, he was used to hearing the wind caress the leaves of trees, birds chirping, or even the water’s current as fish swam. Here there was nothing.
The further he walked, the darker his world became. He flexed his claws and white flames flickered but did not grow. He shook his hand, even blew on them, but nothing changed.
“Who enters my home?” A deep voice rumbled.
“I am Drakonis Isaurian Aslanov. First prince of Ouroboros, descendant of Konstantin and Yelena Aslanov, and Heir of Phaedrus.”
With his words a great wind grew over the poppies, their petals growing into a red tornado then falling to the brown earth. A pale being, who had clearly never seen the sun, appeared with black feather wings that seemed to take over the whole sky. Bits of his face was that of a skeleton while the other was of a warrior. His eyes were like black holes as he stared at Drakonis. The toga that he wore was one that was clearly meant for funerals; skulls and bones were tied in a necklace that sat around his neck. In his hands was an inverted torch with a green flame.
“Why have you come here Drakonis Isaurian Aslanov, Heir of Phaedrus?” The being questioned.
“To reclaim that which my sire has stolen from me. And who are you?”
“I am Thanatos, personification of death. And the only one that can let you out of this realm.” Thanatos paused. “While I am inclined to believe you based on your image, there is nothing that the right hand of Hades desires; for he has all.”
“Except one that can make his soul sing. A mate.” My mate, Drakonis added. Thanatos did not move. He clearly thought Drakonis mad. “Does not even the God of the Underworld wish for companionship?” Thanatos did not answer, rather he studied Drakonis intently. “My mate was on the brink of death when she was brought here. I demand her return.”
“Once one has entered the Underworld none shall leave. Hades has made it so.”
“Then I will convince him otherwise, for a dragon is walking death himself without a mate.”
In the distance, a golden star shot through like a sun’s ray. Thanatos took notice, nodding.
“To reach Hermes, I require a lock of hair.”
“What will you do with it?” Drakonis questioned. It was an odd request. He flipped through his knowledge of the Underworld and what it could possibly mean.
“It is a rite of death,” Thanatos answered, as if reading his mind. “To signify that your life among the living is over, for once you pass you will become part of us.”
Clara had told him that the life he knew would be over. Is this what she saw in her visions? Drakonis’s spine straightened as he lifted his blade. From the bottom he cut a small section, offering it to the death god. Instead of taking it, his hair disintegrated, becoming a petal of a poppy.
“For you acquiescing, and the approval of the Underworld’s ruler, I grant thee passage.”
Drakonis was jarred as the world shook before him. On a path that seemed endless, one had lit up like a silver road. There was no grass or water, but he heard waves in the distance.
Fluttering made Drakonis drop his hand to the hilt of his sword. He looked around, leveling his gaze on a flying athletic youth with winged sandals, a wide brimmed hat, and a staff with intertwining snakes slithering up. Unlike Thanatos, this being did not speak, but flew ahead of Drakonis. It did not take long for him to realize that this was the god Hermes, leading him to another level of the Underworld. The god never looked back. Wings heavy, Drakonis began to jog, his weapons clinking against his new scales.
Words were on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to ask where Clara was, but how many answers would he truly get? He’d rather ask questions about her health. Was she well? Did her soul float along one of the rivers, lost to eternity? Or was she comfortable, as Phaedrus has said?
Hermes stopped flying and, with one last look, a bright golden light encompassed the empty darkness. Drakonis covered his eyes, fighting the potential blindness.
Waves became louder. Drakonis opened his eyes and noticed he now stood on gray sands and black waters. The wooden boat seemed old and decrepit, but even though it floated on the water’s surface it never showed signs of leaking. The boatman, Charon, looked like an unkempt middle-aged human with wild red locks and a long beard. His face was long, his cheeks haggard.
“You are Phaedrus’s child?” the man said. As he spoke, he tapped his crooked staff.
“I am the Heir he has chosen.”
“Yes, yes. Come. Hades is expecting you.”
Drakonis growled. Traveling was becoming tiresome. If Hades knew he was here, then why put him through all of these trials?
“Take me to him,” Drakonis demanded. He approached the boat, but before he could get on, Charon blocked him with his staff.
“I hear ye are a prince. While ye are not buried, I still require payment. And if ye have nothing to give ye may wonder a century here,” Drakonis growled. He grabbed for Charon, but all he could grasp was smoke. The wild man threw his head back in laugher. “You are indeed a child of Phaedrus. He too, cannot hold his temper when he was impatient.”
Drakonis felt around his pockets but settled on the golden earring in his ears. They seemed like noble’s jewelry, to scream their stature, but it was something sacred to him. It represented his once stance in the earthly realm; a prince in Ouroboros. By giving this to Charon was he was renouncing his former life.
Charon was happy to receive his gift, tucking them into his robes. He grabbed Drakonis by the forearm, pulling him into the boat. Drakonis gaped. No one had dared touch him this way before.
“Hades has decreed that ye may bypass the three kings,” Charon said.
“The three kings?”
“Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus. They decide where ye go once departed. Got quite a bit of souls from that lady of ye’s. Yes, a couple were able to go to Elysium, but many wander the Asphodel Fields or in the River Styx.”
Drakonis looked down. The river looked back at first, but as he got a closer look, he saw it tinted green and yellow. Souls floated as the waves themselves in varying stages of fright and anger.
“Hatred and greed are the poisons that lead many to just float along the River Styx. The most miserly eventually leave here and go to the swamps of the Archeron.”
“Are they ever given second chances?” Drakonis asked.
“Once corrupted a soul can never turn back. Some decisions can never be undone. And some could never be forgiven,” Charon answered.
For the first time in a while, Drakonis thought of Gavril. Had he made it to Elysium as Clara said?
“What of those that were manipulated?” His bastard brother had ruined enough lives. Did his selfishness extend to those in the afterlife as well?
“The judges make their decision. If a soul cannot be granted entrance in Elysium, then the best place is the be in Asphodel Fields, where they will slowly forget their past lives until rebirth.”
Drakonis made a silent prayer for the souls that had been lost to Kazimir’s cruelty. If he had the opportunity, he would return with them all, but while sympathy touched him, he was only here for one.
“And of Clara? Where is she?”
In the distance Drakonis saw a grotto, with broken silver columns. He saw an outline of what appeared to be a merperson but he could not be sure. Random poppies floated along the current, adding color in the otherwise dreadful open river.
“She is the one you are after?”
“She is my mate,” Drakonis answered.
“She must be that woman that Phaedrus brought. I’ve never seen him so panicked in all my millennia with him.”
Drakonis felt a little at ease. At least Phaedrus had kept his word, and Clara would not be in the river. But could she be in the Fields…
“Yes, the last I heard she had her own quarters in Hades’s castle. Treated as well as our Goddess Persephone. Between ye and me, I think that Hades has a soft spot for the pretty ones.” Charon laughed but Drakonis did not join in. Clara had to be terrified and lost. His arms ached to hold her once more.
The grand three headed dog, Cerberus, came into view after what seemed like an eternity. With red eyes and a shiny coat, it growled at Drakonis; venom dripping from its sharp teeth. He returned the growl, shocking the dog. It seemed to entertain Charon. From out of nowhere he handed Drakonis large flanks of meat.
“Feed ‘em. With your destiny here, ye better get on their good side, eh?” Drakonis ignored his words. With quick succession, he tossed the meat to each head.
“My destiny is not in the Underworld.”
“May the Fates decide that. Once ye are down here there is no escaping’. Many have tried and none have succeeded without losing something.”
Drakonis finally made it to the shores of a castle. It was brighter than he had imagined because of the silver columns that held it up. Gardens of poppies and yellow asphodel flowers. A physical representation of the sun and blood moon.
Many resided in Hades’s palace. While he did not see anyone physically, he did hear lyres, harps, and drums. He felt the casual air of someone waltzing and the chatter of gossip common in balls. Women and men sang in unison adding romance to the air. Had this been a real ball, Drakonis would be sweeping Clara off her feet. His legs ached to do something familiar. He paused when ghosts of a memory appeared before him. Clara was smiling as she held onto him. He swung her in circles, doing everything he could to see her laugh.
“Clara!” He reached out but the vision disappeared in smoke. His heart stirred, but he had to remain focused. This was just like the ruins. This time he could not rely on Clara, rather his own strength.
“She means a great deal to you.”
Drakonis turned on his heel, a hand at each sword. Among the shadows of ghosts dancing, he saw a tall black figure. Like Thanatos, he did not physically recognize him, but his whole being knew. There was no mistaking who this God was.
“Hades,” Drakonis murmured.
Hades’s smile could barely be seen through his thick black beard. His body wanted to bow in reverence, but his mind kept him as stuff as possible. He could tell this was amusing.
“I’m glad you could finally come Drakonis. It is now time to face your destiny.”