28. Dungeons and Dragons
I n the morning, when Nicodemus opened his eyes, the cold was the first thing that woke him. Something was missing, ice where heat once was.
Viola.
He bolted out of bed, not even thinking to grab his cane or stretch his leg. He stumbled up the stairs, muscles groaning, tumbling onto the deck—
Where Viola stood, already dressed, eating an apple.
“What?” she said, staring across at him. “I was hungry.”
Nicodemus breathed a sigh of relief, somehow managing to resist the urge to throw his arms around her. “I thought, maybe that you…”
“That the dragon reached in and plucked me out of the boat in the night?”
“More that you…”
“Went to fight a dragon by myself? Without the supremely powerful shadowmancer that I brought with me specifically for dragon-fighting purposes? Yes, because that would make sense.”
Nicodemus smiled. “You called me supremely powerful.”
“I tell the truth. Don’t let it go to your head.” She tossed an apple towards him. “Eat up. It’s light. The dragon should be asleep by now. I’d really like to rescue Freya.”
“Understood.” Nicodemus bit into his apple. He leant against the railing, now regretting that he’d forgotten his cane. Viola disappeared below deck to tidy up and collect her sword. She returned with his cane in hand.
“Thank you,” he said, surprised that she’d noticed .
She started up the ship as he was eating, lifting it out of the pond and over the mountains, following the trail of destruction. Nicodemus went to sort through their supplies, carefully placing the various vials onto a belt and handing it to her.
“When— if— we rescue Freya, you should give her a few drops of the blue potion,” he told her. “It should wipe her memory of the rescue. I think she might have a few questions if she sees me assisting you.”
“Good point. What are the other ones for?”
“The green one will knock her out—one of Cordelia’s concoctions. You don’t get her to drink it, though. Just throw it at her feet and stand way back. Should keep her out for a few hours. Maybe not enough time to get us back, but hopefully I’ll be able to make my own way home by then.”
“After fighting a dragon? Are you sure?”
“Well, I am supremely powerful, after all.”
Viola groaned. “You’re supremely irritating, that’s what you are.”
“I don’t see why I can’t be both.” He glanced at the wheel in her hands. “Can I fly the airship again?”
“No! You’ll kill us both.”
Viola kept a steady grip on the airship as they flew over the mountains, eventually spotting the opening of a cave. She flew in low, took down the sails, and set the ship into hover. A brief check of the engine revealed they had several hours before more crystals would need to be added to the burner, and she flung the ladder over the side.
“Ready?” she asked him.
“Are you?”
In answer to that, Viola leapt over the side and landed neatly on the ground below.
“Oh, a jump, so impressive,” Nicodemus groaned, descending instead on a slide made of smoke.
“You should conserve your magic.”
He dangled his bracelet in response. “I think I’m fine. Shall we?”
“After you.”
Darkness quickly engulfed them as they made their way through the cave. Nicodemus had Viola hold a lantern, wanting to keep his hands free for summoning shadows.
“I thought you didn’t need your hands to control them,” she whispered.
“I don’t—not anymore—but it always helps, especially in low light where the shadows need more connection with their caster.”
Viola nodded, keeping the light high. They moved slowly through the rocky terrain, their progress silent save for the occasional puff of breath and the steady drip, drip, drip of a distant trickle of water.
The passage widened, the darkness lifting slightly. The rock was veined with crystal, a deep, pulsing red and blue. Multiple paths split off in front of them, morphing the cave into something labyrinthine. Viola was struck by the terrible feeling that they could search for days and not find any trace of Freya.
Nicodemus seemed to sense a similar problem. He flexed his neck, and four shadow-selves stretched out behind him. He equipped each one with a crystal.
“I can’t guarantee this will work,” he said, as they all split off down the passages. “If the light fades, they will too.”
It was better than nothing. They carried off down the main path, Nico’s cane rapping along the stone. Viola hoped the dragon was a heavy sleeper. The lantern in her hand cast eerie shadows against the rough stone walls, cutting through the darkness that surrounded them.
She glanced at Nicodemus, his face determined, his eyes reflecting the dim light with an intensity that matched her own apprehension.
Viola swallowed hard, her palms growing clammy. She had heard tales of dragons since she was a child—their fierce breath that could scorch anything in its path, their impenetrable scales that made them nearly invincible. Yet, here she was, venturing into the heart of their domain on a desperate hope that Freya was still here somewhere.
And that Nicodemus’ shadows could slice through scale.
The air grew thick as they pressed on, the only sound the echo of their footsteps against the rocky floor. The terrain grew slippery. Viola pitched forward at one point, regaining her step at the last second, Nicodemus’ arm already around her waist.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t mention it.”
His arm dropped away. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, the way he scrambled onto the top deck that morning, nor the relief in his eyes when he’d found her there. For a moment, she’d been certain he was going to hug her. She’d almost been disappointed when he didn’t .
She suspected she knew what that meant, but she wasn’t ready to give weight to it.
The path ahead of them dissolved into a drop, the only way forward a ledge twenty feet up. Without words, a shadow stretched out from Nicodemus’ boots and lifted them both upwards. They glided over the stones, all sounds vanishing now.
All sounds but a low, dense rumble reverberating through the cave.
Dragon’s breath.
The walls seemed to close in around them, stiff and suffocating. They rounded a corner, arriving in a vast chamber bathed in a soft, crimson glow. It was the gold that Viola noticed first, the shimmering metal resting in piles around the rocky chamber, punctuated by sharp jewels, crowns, glittering helmets.
Nicodemus gasped, leaning down to pluck a ring from the floor. He offered it to Viola. “Matches your eyes, Windbright.”
Viola didn’t take the offering. “What do dragons, magpies and Nicodemus Nightshade have in common?”
“We’re all majestic?”
“They all like shiny things that aren’t theirs. ”
Nicodemus pouted, but still pocketed the ring. She supposed she couldn’t begrudge him a few trinkets. No one would be returning these treasures to their rightful owners—many of them likely long dead. Dragons were unique among the magical creatures, capable of hibernating for dozens, even hundreds of years. This trove could span through the ages.
Nicodemus picked up a crown, too. He slotted on a bracelet.
“Can you raid this place later?”
“I’m a ‘live in the moment’ person.”
Another long, deep breath blew through the cavern. Viola followed the sound, turning a corner until the cavern opened up again.
At the centre lay a colossal figure, its scales shimmering like molten gold in the dim light. It was larger than an airship, big enough to crush a castle. Great spurts of breath snorted from steaming nostrils large enough to crawl into. Its long, spiny tail was wrapped around its enormous sleeping body, and beneath it lay a flash of claws almost as tall as Viola herself.
She stumbled backward, bumping into Nicodemus. His eyes widened at the sight of the dragon. “That is… quite large.”
“Still think you can take it?”
“I think I would like to avoid waking it, if at all possible.”
Something flashed across the piles of gold. Viola drew her sword, standing between Nicodemus and the danger, but it was only one of his shadows. It flew around them like a startled bird .
“It’s found something,” Nicodemus translated. “Follow it. Come back if you need assistance.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What you wanted me to do. If the dragon wakes, I’m going to fight it.”
“Right.” Viola moved away, following the shadow. She stopped after a couple of paces. “Nightshade?”
“Yes?”
“Be careful.”
He shot her a smile almost as bright as the piles of gold around him. “For you, Windbright? I’ll do my best.”
Waiting to see if an enormous dragon was about to awake feeling a bit peckish turned out to be a rather stressful endeavour. Inspecting its treasure, however, proved to be rather the opposite.
Nicodemus stood amidst glittering piles of gold and jewels, resisting the urge to throw himself into the mounds of coins and swim about in them. It was almost certain to wake the dragon. A lot of the time, Nico’s love of money came from the feeling of safety and power that it bought. It opened up a myriad of dreams and possibilities, all best experienced with a full belly. Sometimes, however, he liked it merely because it was pretty. Today was one of those days.
He’d managed to find rings for all of his fingers. Several necklaces now draped across his neck. He’d stuffed his pockets with coins and jewels and was really hoping to grab that rather nice looking sceptre before they left. It was just as well he was supposed to make his own way back. He’d probably weigh down the ship.
Supposed to. If Viola didn’t find Freya, he’d be heading back with her. Nico didn’t know if he wanted Viola to find her or not. He didn’t like Freya. She’d hurt Viola, and even though Nico knew that Viola was the one who had broken things off, he couldn’t help but worry that this little adventure might reignite her feelings, or at least confuse them. Many a couple found themselves drawn together when the stakes were high, only to find the feelings flimsy when the danger passed.
All that being said, he knew Viola would be devastated if they couldn’t find her, or found her too late. He didn’t want to see that .
I lost my family, she’d told him last night, and suddenly he’d understood why Freya was so important to her. For years, he’d wondered if it would have been better to have lost his people when he was older, if he wanted more memories with them, or if the pain was less because he didn’t know them long enough. The other, later loss hurt more. He knew that much.
He wondered what Viola would pick if she was given the option—if she would trade her memories of her family for peace.
No. He suspected she wouldn’t. Viola never chose the easiest path. She was like him in that regard.
He hoped she found Freya. She didn’t deserve to lose anyone else.
A faint unease crept into Nico’s thoughts. The dragon’s snores, once a constant rumble in the background, faded into the depths.
The sudden silence jolted him back to reality.
The dragon was no longer snoring.
Nico spun around, eyes wide with fear.
The dragon stood behind him, its massive form looming in the darkness, neck extended, spines raised. Amber eyes gleamed with fury, its gaze fixated on the intruder in its lair.
With a roar that shook the cavern walls, the dragon lunged forward, claws outstretched and flames dancing on its tongue. Nicodemus stumbled backward, the weight of his greed crashing down upon him. He flung out a shadow like a scythe, aiming for the dragon’s neck—
The shadow buffeted against the scales like steel on armour. The dragon hesitated, as if shocked to feel anything, and then lunged again. Nico dived out of reach. It collided with a pile of coins, giving him a few seconds to scuttle into a hiding spot.
He wasn’t a runner. There was no question of escape. There was only the fight.
He took a flare from his belt and flung it into a nearby pile of gems, flooding the cavern with light, before plucking one of the shadowgems from his bracelet and swallowing it.
The rush of power was instant. It poured through his veins like molten gold. Shadows congealed at his feet.
He let them explode.
Viola trod behind the elusive, flickering shadow, her lantern held high. The air was heavy with the scent of sulphur, and the distant rumble of the dragon’s snores reverberated through the stone walls. Her heart raced as she navigated the treacherous passages, her sword at the ready.
The enchanted shadow danced ahead, leading Viola deeper into the labyrinthine cave. Each step echoed against the rocky floor. Viola’s grip tightened around her sword as she pressed on, her senses sharp and alert.
“Not much of a conversationalist, are you?” she whispered to the shadow.
The shadow didn’t even stop. It barrelled ahead, twirling along the walls. How much was it aware of? It could somehow see, or sense things, but could it hear? Would it respond to someone other than Nicodemus?
The shadow halted, casting a ghostly glow upon a gaping hole in the ground. Viola peered over the edge. Even her runed eyes could make out nothing in the gloom.
“There’s no one here,” she called to the shadow.
The shadow danced around, refusing to listen. Viola sighed. “Hello?” she called out into the dark.
A fragile, weak voice called back. “Viola?”
Something moved in the dark, coming forward into the narrow slant of light. A pale face surrounded by dirty, silvery hair.
“ Freya .” Viola’s heart leapt. “Auriel’s light, you’re alive.”
“Is it really you?”
“Who else would it be?”
“Heindrich, maybe. I thought he might come for me.”
Viola’s chest tightened. Of course Freya didn’t think she’d come for her. “Good point. Are you injured?”
“Nothing serious.”
“Hold on. I’m going to get you out of there.”
Viola loosed the rope from her belt and began to knot it, bracing it against a nearby rock to help ease Freya out.
“What happened?” Viola asked as she worked.
“I managed to get out of range of the dragon’s attack,” she told her. Her voice was a scratched, hushed whisper, taut and rusty. “I was thrown off Valkyrie… tore off one of my arm guards. As the dragon was distracted with the others… I ran. Then it came back in. I kept running until I fell. I couldn’t find a way out.” She paused. “The others are all dead, aren’t they?”
Viola hesitated, only for a moment. “Flameborn lives.”
Freya’s voice trembled. “I’m glad he escaped.”
Viola lowered the rope into the hole, bracing herself for Freya’s welcome weight. Slowly, she levered her up into the light, barely breathing until Freya clambered into the stony corridor and collapsed into Viola’s waiting arms.
“I thought I was going to die in there,” Freya sobbed into Viola’s shoulder, her voice finally breaking completely. “You came for me.”
“Of course I did.”
“I’m sorry I said you were unfeeling.”
“That’s all right. You were wrong, but also… weren’t wrong. I get it.”
Freya inched back, her gaze shining. She bent her head towards her, but before Viola could say something, or pull away, Freya’s eyes widened.
“A shadow!” she hissed, scrambling to her feet.
Viola turned as Freya whipped out a dagger from her belt and lunged at the unsuspecting shadow.
“It’s all right!” Viola said, before she could stop herself. “It won’t hurt us.”
Freya frowned. Viola searched for a way to take back her words. Her fingers itched for the potion on her belt. She didn’t want to have to use it here. She wanted to get Freya out first—
Something rumbled in the distance, like the mountain splitting apart. Freya looked ready to pass out.
The dragon was awake.
With a deep breath, Nicodemus focused his mind, drawing upon the darkness that swirled around him. Shadows pried away from the stone walls, coalescing at his command, intertwining and solidifying into the form of a massive dragon.
The shadow dragon roared into existence, its eyes twin pools of darkness. Nicodemus sent the shadow creature hurtling toward the real dragon with a flick of his wrists, its form fluid and sinuous, mimicking the movements of its corporeal counterpart.
He’d never, ever done anything like this before. It felt different, like each strike of his creation reverberated along his muscles, like he and the shadow-dragon were connected by a thousand, miniscule threads. It was all the fear and focus of the first time he ever created something, and the exhilaration of a lifetime of practice.
The two dragons clashed amidst a storm of shadows and fire. The real dragon unleashed torrents of flame from its maw, the shadow dragon countering with tendrils of darkness, weaving and twisting to evade the onslaught.
Nico watched intently, his brow furrowed in concentration as he manipulated the shadows, guiding his creation with expert precision. The clash of titans echoed through the cavern as they tore into each other with savage fury, talons slicing through shade. Nico felt every swipe. Pressure, rather than pain—cold and dense and furious.
The dragon’s scales gleamed like burnished armour. Its eyes burned with a fierce, primal intelligence. It too had never met a monster quite like this one, an opponent that reformed every time it sliced.
The flare was fading. Nicodemus took another swipe at the dragon, reaching for his belt to toss out another one. It hit a pile of coins, but the coins shifted, smothering the flare almost as soon as it fell.
Shit, shit—
The dragon clawed at the shadow monster. The impact punched against Nicodemus’ shoulder. Not enough to send him reeling. Enough to shock him, to bring him to the brink of pain.
His dragon needed more light. The copper veins running through the walls weren’t enough. Its limbs were beginning to dissipate, misting away into nothing—
Light blasted across the cavern floor. Nicodemus turned.
Viola stood at the end of the cavern. She flung her lantern ahead of her and held her lightstone in her hand, far above her head, flooding the place with light.
Joy flared across Nicodemus’ chest. He turned back to the dragons. His sliced across the physical dragon’s chest, still not making a dent in its scales.
Shadow wasn’t enough. Spelled steel might do the job, but he had none here. What else could topple a dragon?
The beast roared. Fire surged in its throat. It let out an enormous plume, but the blast went straight through the shadow.
Nicodemus froze.
The roof of its mouth wasn’t coated in scales.
With a surge of power, Nicodemus infused the shadow dragon with all the strength he could muster, digging deep into his centre where the shadowgem lay in his belly. The power ripped out of him like needles raking across his flesh. It poured into his shadow, lunging towards the scaled dragon with a mighty roar, its form engulfing the real dragon in a shroud of darkness.
With a deafening roar, the shadow dragon transformed into an enormous blade, skewering the roof of the enormous dragon’s mouth before fading into wisps of smoke .
Blood gushed to the ground in a crimson waterfall. The dragon’s roars vanished, turning into awful, monstrous gargles. Its body started to sway, catching against the walls, the ceiling, the pillars of stone holding the mountain upright—
The mountain trembled as it fell, stalactites dropping from the ceiling. Its limbs flailed. Piles of coins shattered over the ground. Its tail lashed out and a final plume of fire doused the cavern in flame.
That was the last thing Nico remembered.