Chapter 5 #2
Mareth cursed and lunged in from the other side, both blades flashing. He drove them beneath the dragon’s claws, into a narrow seam between plates of scale.
A weak point.
He wasn’t trying to kill it.
He was drawing its attention.
It worked.
The dragon screeched as steel bit into flesh.
It twisted.
Turned.
Locked onto Mareth.
Its jaws opened.
Wide.
The intent clear.
A cavern of teeth and heat and darkness.
Aldric saw it—
Already on his feet.
Moving.
Death was rushing toward Mareth—
And reacted.
He threw himself forward.
Shoulder first.
He hit Mareth hard, knocking him off balance.
They crashed into the bog together, water and black mud exploding around them, soaking them to the bone.
The dragon’s jaws snapped shut inches from where Mareth’s head and torso had been.
Mud sprayed. Reeds bent.
Mareth stared at him, filthy, drenched, eyes blazing.
“I had a plan—”
“Move!” Aldric shouted.
Then—
Everything went still.
An eerie breath swept through the marsh, cold and wrong, as if the land itself had heard his voice.
The dragon exhaled.
A slow, hissing breath that crawled across the field.
It turned its head.
Slowly.
Toward Aldric.
Its fractured eyes locked onto him.
The dragon went still.
The red vanished.
Black swallowed everything.
A void bloomed behind its skull.
Reality warped. The air bent. Sound thinned.
Aldric froze.
Pressure crashed down on him.
A weight, vast and merciless.
His muscles locked.
His breath stalled in his chest.
He could not move.
He could barely think.
Recognition.
The brand.
White-hot.
Alive.
The dragon hesitated.
Studied him.
As if seeing something more.
Two words echoed inside Aldric’s skull.
Clear.
H?wllun éltharion.
Cold crept into Aldric’s bones, sinking deeper than fear.
What cursed magic is this…?
Then—
The dragon screeched.
A sound like tearing metal.
Movement flashed in his blurred vision.
Two figures.
Mareth had launched himself upward—
And Goroth followed, a living battering ram, hurled into the air by sheer force and fury.
They moved.
Fast.
Grabbing ridges of scale, hauling themselves upward.
Climbing.
Up.
Higher.
Toward the massive, armored skull.
Mareth drove both blades into the seams between plates, muscles screaming as he wrenched them apart.
Metal shrieked.
Scales tore.
He braced.
Held.
Goroth came next.
No words were uttered.
Jus silent understanding.
A mountain in motion.
His greatsword rose.
High.
Then fell.
Straight down.
Once.
Twice.
A third time—
With a sickening crunch, steel punched through bone and brain.
Black blood exploded outward.
Hot.
Reeking.
The dragon convulsed.
Its roar collapsed into a broken hiss.
Massive limbs spasmed.
Then failed.
The corpse fell.
It slammed into the marsh with thunderous force, bog water and filth erupting in every direction.
Mud rained.
Silence followed.
The beast lay still.
Aldric knelt in the mud, chest heaving.
Hands trembling.
He hadn’t won.
He hadn’t even come close.
He had survived.
Barely.
He got up.
Goroth’s booming laugh cut through the haze.
He strode over and clapped a massive hand down on Aldric’s shoulder.
Hard.
“Good work!” he barked. “Distracting the beast!”
Aldric didn’t answer.
He stared at the ground, breath still uneven, trying to shake the lingering pressure, the echo of that will that had pinned him in place.
Mareth watched him as he approached.
Closely.
Something unreadable flickered behind his eyes.
“I’ve never seen a dragon hesitate,” Mareth said at last. “Not like that.”
Aldric swallowed.
Still no response.
“The way it looked at you…” Mareth continued quietly. “As if it recognized you.”
Aldric looked at him.
His eyes widened.
“You… didn’t see the void?”
Mareth frowned.
“What void? What are you talking abo—?”
Then—
A sound rolled across the marsh.
Low.
Wet.
Wrong.
A rasping inhale that crawled under their skin and settled in their bones.
All three of them turned.
Aldric’s fingers tightened around his sword.
Goroth lowered his blade slowly.
Mareth went pale.
A whisper slipped from his lips.
“No…” His voice barely carried. “That’s not possible.”
The dragon’s corpse twitched.
Once.
Twice.
Its eyes snapped open.
Only the head and neck stirred, the rest of its massive body lying slack and broken in the marsh.
Reanimated.
Corrupted.
Its pupils dilated.
The red webbing was gone.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Behind its skull, the air twisted.
Folded.
A rupture formed, silent and unreal.
A halo of nothingness.
Reality bent inward around it..
Cold, blue-white radiance bled from the tear.
Not light.
Something colder.
The dragon drew in a shuddering breath.
And through its lifeless lungs, a voice emerged.
Not its own.
Layered.
Distant.
Vast.
Speaking in a tongue that did not belong to this world.
“Dén’thar ánnelin, Aelynn s?n éberath.”
The words rang like chimes struck in a cathedral of ice.
Terrifying.
Unnatural.
Goroth went still.
Mareth’s face drained of color.
For the first time since Aldric had met him, fear cracked his composure.
The dead dragon screamed.
Not in pain.
In worship.
In obedience.
Its throat split around the sound, black ichor spilling as its body convulsed.
Goroth moved.
Fast.
He lifted his greatsword.
Power surged along the runes etched into its length, the blade flaring with violent crimson light extending it’s reach.
With a roar, he brought it upwards in a brutal arc.
Steel and magic cleaved through scale, bone, and corrupted flesh.
The head tore free.
Tumbled.
Hit the mud with a wet, final thud.
The void collapsed.
The light vanished.
The voice was gone.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Absolute.
Aldric swallowed.
“What the fuck was that?”
Mareth didn’t answer.
He stood rigid, eyes fixed on the place where the void had been, as if afraid it might reopen.
Goroth exhaled slowly.
“High angelic dialect.”
Aldric stared at him.
“What…?”
The word barely escaped him.
Mareth looked sick.
His skin had gone ashen, his jaw clenched so tightly it trembled.
Goroth turned his gaze to Aldric, expression grim.
“It wasn’t speaking to the dragon,” he said quietly.
Both he and Mareth were watching Aldric now.
Unease in the air.
A chill crept up Aldric’s spine.
“What did it say?”
Inside his mind, two words still echoed, faint remnants of the thing that had been.
H?wllun éltharion.
Goroth went on.
“It roughly translates to: ‘Your path awaits you, child of Aylindor.’”
Aldric tried to shake it off. The lingering pressure in his mind. The echo of something vast and eternal, something that had brushed against his thoughts and left fingerprints behind.
He drew a steadying breath.
“I heard two words when the dragon looked at me. H?wllun éltharion.”
Goroth went still.
Completely.
Mareth let out a long, tired breath. Eyes open in disbelief, his shoulders locking into rigid stillness.
He looked at Aldric as if seeing him for the first time.
“What have you gotten yourself into, knight?” Mareth asked quietly.
Aldric frowned.
“I don’t understand…”
“There are only a handful of beings left who even know that name,” Mareth continued. “Even fewer who have been adressed by it.”
Aldric shook his head.
“I don’t—”
The world lurched.
A sudden surge of heat and anger tore through him. His vision blurred. His balance faltered.
Goroth moved towards him.
Slowly.
He stepped in front of Aldric, his massive frame blocking the marsh from view. One hand rested loosely on the hilt of his greatsword, casual, almost relaxed.
Yet his weight had shifted.
Ready to strike.
If needed.
“Knight,” his voice was low. “Raise your eyes. Let me see them.”
Aldric met his gaze.
Crimson eyes searched his, deep, probing, heavy with something ancient.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then Goroth exhaled.
“No signs of corruption.”
Mareth’s shoulders loosened, just slightly.
Relief flickered across his face.
Aldric stared between them.
“What just happened?”
Goroth answered without looking away from him.
“There are beings who believe their will is eternal. You may call them gods, if you like. éltharion is one of them.” A pause. “Not of this world. But powerful enough to bend minds even from his place of exile.”
Aldric swallowed.
“…You think he’s corrupted me?”
Mareth shook his head.
“No.” He studied Aldric carefully. “If he had turned you into extension of himself, it would take more than both of us to put you down.”
Silence followed.
Then Aldric spoke.