9 - Confrontation
Cassian
Cassian was well aware of how exposed he was at that moment. A man like Tariel would eventually start to suspect something… The most sensible thing to do was to keep him by his side long enough for the elf to trust him.
But how?
A logical explanation for his alchemical abilities could be that his fictional parents, as servants of dragons, were able to teach him before they met their demise.
An explanation that would account for his alchemical abilities as well as the Morgraves’ eagerness to recruit him as a mercenary in their service.
Lost in thought, he was suddenly jolted out of his reverie by a flock of abnormally large vultures rising into the sky like black smoke. He looked up and—
Damn it… The swarm was thickening, seeming to grow before his very eyes.
And it was heading straight for them.
Before him, Cassian saw the elf reach out his arm toward the black mass. Without a word, a fiery aura formed around his arm, and a bird of fire sliced through the air.
He had summoned a phoenix.
That elf was… definitely full of surprises.
Tariel, in a single fluid motion, reinforced its defense by summoning a swarm of sharp-clawed fiery birds of prey to support it in the melee, before looking back to shout over the noise, “I figure if the birds are here, the troops can’t be far behind. Any ideas?”
Cassian agreed—the vibrations in the air left no room for doubt: a small army was approaching.
“Do you see that charred forest over there? We absolutely need to reach that area. To the southeast, the flames haven’t destroyed everything—there’s still some greenery left, just like that lake. We need to hurry, but I doubt that—”
Before he could finish, a dark cloud engulfed the phoenix in a loud explosion, consuming it from all sides. From below, the Prince of Morgraves appeared, perched on a massive griffin similar to the one in the crypt.
Of course, he had to come himself, he thought with a grimace.
Cassian rested his chin on the elf’s shoulder, barely meeting his gaze as he sighed, “Tariel, Phineas uses dark magic and poison. Don’t let him get to you—he wants your head and my powers. He’s going to target you, so keep following the falcon, and don’t look back!”
The mercenary paused, looking up at the stormbird: the summoning talisman had been given to him by Rhazek, chief of the Olyar clan and an old friend of Cassian’s, to guide him wherever he might be. Today, he was counting on the beast to guide the elf.
He wasn’t sure he’d still be around to do it himself.
“It will guide you to the southeastern forest. I’ll distract them.”
Tariel opened his mouth to protest, but Cassian cut him off. He wasn’t giving him a choice. “Don’t look back!”
At those words, he leaped from his mount and rolled to the ground, causing it to bolt with Tariel clinging to her mane—it was for the best, he thought. The army was closing in fast, and he had only a brief moment to prepare.
The prince’s griffin landed nearby, and his guards immediately surrounded the two men. Phineas stepped toward Cassian, his gaze ablaze. In a tone laced with amusement and surprise, the man accused, “You’re protecting that elf, then… Just like I thought you were.”
Cassian glanced in the elf’s direction, but only dead trees greeted him… Good man, he thought, and don’t look back.
Seemingly annoyed with Cassian’s inattention, Phineas spat with a scowl, “Cassian, the mercenary with mysterious abilities. Smart, gifted with a sharp tongue—though I’d gladly cut that tongue out to silence your insolence.”
With a wicked smile dancing on his lips, Cassian took a step back as the prince approached dangerously, a dark energy manifesting in dark, oily tendrils emanating from the palm of his hand.
“What can I do to rally you to my cause without having to hurt you every time?”
“If your cause is to kill the last dragon, I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do.”
“Should I ask your elven friend, then?”
“You have no intention whatsoever of asking him anything; you just want his head on a platter to satisfy your wounded ego.”
Phineas’s features hardened. With a sharp movement, he drew his sword, its blade shimmering with a dark glow.
“Watch your words, mercenary.”
“Why? Are you going to kill me too?”
At Cassian’s taunt, Phineas took a deep breath and lowered his weapon, sizing up the mercenary with barely concealed contempt.
“No, you’re still useful to me. Although… I do wonder why you don’t want to kill this beast, when you’re perfectly capable of doing so.”
“If an entire army were incapable of it, do you really think it’s possible to kill a dragon prince at the hands of a single man? You know nothing about dragons. You’re all terrified, to the point of sacrificing people who don’t stand a chance, throwing your men into battle like pig feed.”
The very air seemed to vibrate as the temperature rose sharply, reflecting Cassian’s pent-up anger. Phineas stepped forward again, his gaze hard, jaw clenched.
“Are you comparing my will to that of the elves?”
“Yes. You’re looking for a chosen one where there isn’t any.
The elves sent Tariel, and you’re looking for a hero who will save your skin while ignoring the inevitable: the dragon will make short work of him, and you won’t even have time to hear the news before everything has vanished in its flames. ”
“Silence! I refuse to hear such insults!”
With an enraged cry, the prince swung his sword at Cassian, but this time, the blade struck nothing but air.
Cassian raised his hand in a swift, abrupt gesture.
A blast erupted from his palm—a searing shockwave that struck the sword head-on and deflected it to the side.
The impact sent Phineas stumbling back several steps, his boots scraping against the stone as the air vibrated around them in a low rumble.
The magic was still crackling and sizzling when Cassian spoke again, standing motionless at the center of the turmoil.
“You’re afraid… you’re all afraid… and you’re right to be, because this is only the beginning of your end.
He is the nightmare from which the people will never recover, and you will all vanish under the force of his vengeance.
You made a mistake, you left one of them alive, and his people will rise and conquer, for Drakensyl cannot die as long as fire blazes. ”
“You speak like a traitor, Cassian.”
“The true traitor is the one who turns a blind eye to the massacre of a nation for the sake of an alliance.”
Phineas raised his weapon, his gaze burning with hatred. Around them, the soldiers hesitated, frozen by the crushing pressure of the energy saturating the air. Cassian took a step forward in turn, the fire already creeping beneath his skin as flames licked up his arms.
“Are you going to fight, Cassian?”
“Only if we’re on equal footing.”
A shrill screech suddenly pierced the air.
The crypt’s griffin soared down from above, hovering in the air before diving toward them.
Its immense wings whipped up a gust of wind that sent ash and dust flying, causing the soldiers to recoil.
Under the prince’s icy gaze, the creature circled widely before landing heavily in front of Cassian, letting out a hoarse cry that forced the soldiers to break ranks.
The griffin turned its head toward him, and Cassian didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbed hold of the fur mixed with feathers, and hoisted himself onto its back just as the beast took flight with a sharp flap of its wings.
“Don’t let him get away!”
But the griffin was already leaving the ground, the mercenary perched on its back.
With a snap of his fingers, Cassian released his illusion. Fiery reflections burst forth around them, scattering in all directions.
Confusion immediately spread among the soldiers.
An armed troop mounted on enormous vultures set off in pursuit. They kept striking at thin air, unable to distinguish reality from the incandescent images, while the griffin gained altitude and led them away from the battlefield.
“Tariel, I need you.” He pressed a hand to his heart as his voice echoed in the elf’s mind—or at least, he hoped it did. “I need a phoenix heading in the opposite direction, toward the castle…”
He wasn’t sure he could pull it off, but Cassian possessed something few men could claim: a fierce, almost painful will to live. A raw, incandescent hope, pulsing in time with his magic.
He sensed it before he saw it.
A low rumble shook the air, and a bright blue phoenix sliced through the skies. Cassian’s eyes widened at the sight, as an echo of the past hit him square in the chest.
His mother’s voice came to him from the depths of time, soft and soothing, along with the smell of warm firewood and lilacs. She had just tucked him into bed, smoothing his hair as the first stars began to twinkle above Drakensyl. As he did every night, he asked for stories from their time.
“Mother… how do we know we’ve found a Heart of ?lhe?”
“Legend has it that, in its purest form, it shimmers with hues of blue,” she whispered with a serene smile. “Magic, though immaterial by nature, sometimes tends to make itself visible.”
“So… is Father searching for blue magic?”
Her smile was kind as she brushed his red locks back.
“Thanks to the Philosopher’s Stone, your father is the only dragon capable of resonating with one of those. But perhaps one day, you too will be granted that ability… who knows, Aethros.”
“Is that why the elves hate us so much? Is that why their kingdom is so cold toward us?”
Her mother let out a quiet sigh, her gaze drifting toward the window and the distant mountain peaks. Her long auburn locks seemed to shimmer in the light of the wood fire.
“The elves have a hard time tolerating anyone coming close to their power, dearest. They don’t like dragons flying so close to their monopoly. They can’t conceive such vast power being shared, and they see us as a threat to their hegemony… But they aren’t the only powerful beings in this world.”
“Why can’t we just each stay on our own side? Why seek to unite?”