Reunion

With the anticipation of an anxious mother, Rai'dley checked the magically imbued crystal gems. Each dragon had chosen their most valuable and best quality jewel to serve as their spirit host until the powerful dragon spirits could return to their dead bodies. She smiled, pleased with the gentle warm glow that promised their success. Elation turned to bitter disappointment as the light from one of the stones dimmed, faded, and then blinked out completely. It was one of the green stones, for one of the two green dragons. She picked the vessel up and shook it violently, as if to encourage its life to return. It didn't.

  She examined the precious gem carefully. It represented thousands of platinum pieces in value, but it was worth much more than that to her. With the scrutiny of a gem-cutter's eye, she found the problem. A hairline fracture had developed along one of the gem's natural facets, rendering the stone useless. It was flawed, imperfect. Disgusted, she threw the rock against the wall where it shattered into a million shards. The green dragon was dead forever.

  It seemed like a millennia before the other dragons were ready to make their slow recovery. She paced back and forth in the large room, making her way around the behemoth corpses of the rotting dragons. They began to acquire a foul, acrid odor, but she enjoyed the aroma. These were her children, and the smell was that of baby powder.

  Rai'dley fretted over the corpses and the stones, agonizing over the careful timing. "Is it time yet?" she'd ask herself, but then continue her nervous pacing. She knew that if she didn't allow the spirits enough time to coalesce on their own in the sanctuary of their host, the whole experiment would be ruined, and all her children would be forever dead. Patience was not one of Rai'dley's best qualities. She finally convinced herself she had to do it, and checked the preparations again for the thousandth time. At Rai'dley's magical command, and a thunderous boom of magical energy, the strong dragon spirits burst back into their own bodies.

  At first the huge dragons were like newborn foals, having to acquaint themselves once more with the balance and mechanics of their bulky, awkward bodies. But when the bright pinpoints of red light flared into their empty eye sockets, Rai'dley knew that they had all successfully crossed over. Her children had been reborn.

  The evil dragons cared little about the demise of their comrade, the great green. Even its own mate barely considered it momentarily before it too was distracted by its new powers. Like a child at Winter Festival, it couldn't wait to see what wonders awaited it. The huge children were eager to go out and use their new powers.

  The dracoliches adapted quickly to their own bodies, and were soon able to fly once more. Their bodies had deteriorated little during the internment of their spirits in the magical gems. Enough of their rotting, delicate wing membrane remained for them to maintain flight. In time they would replace their failing, decaying, fleshy wings with powerful magical spells that would keep them airborne forever, but until then, they were happy to be winging it around the area surrounding the Lost Lands.

  This thrill of undeath didn't last for long. The evil creations longed to expand and try their other powers. They sought the terror they filled mortal creatures with, the screams of victims, and the euphoria of showing absolutely no mercy. They enjoyed the stark terror their presence alone could cause, and the paralysis of weaklings whose bodies refused to co-operate with their own wills. How they enjoyed victory.

  It didn't take much to convince Rai'dley they were ready to begin this war in earnest. LaBairne had been busy during this time creating even more undead beasts to add to his sprawling army, and with the flight of death flying high above, there would be little to stop them. Rai'dley sent orders to gather all of her dark forces around her, and they assembled into formation at her castle gates. The time had come.

  There were few tunnels off to either side as the band of priests and small party followed the ever-winding trail upward. They moved in good spirits, eager for the fight they knew was ahead, but began to get winded from their exertion.

  Dak'gnu led a steady pace, but always with his mind pulled in two opposite directions. At the same time his mind was ahead of him concentrating on the terrible evil he had permitted, Rai'dley and the army of zombies, but a part of him was back down that descending trail to his exiled home of Mezzo'Dakmania. That fork in the road would be something that would always pull him, but he forced himself onward, knowing he had made the only decision he could; the right one.

  Lost in his thoughts, Dak'gnu was almost caught unaware by a sudden attack. Almost. Operating on pure instincts, he jumped back, pressing his body into Gerrod behind him. Dak'gnu was barely missed by the pointed blade of a sword. Within a blinding flash of tensed muscles, Dak'gnu made a guarding block with his left arm, even as his Soul Dagger magically appeared in his ready grasp. The dagger rang with the tip of another weapon, deflecting the impossible second attack. Without a moment to lose, Dak'gnu drew his long sword that had lazily rested in its sheath at his hip, and he was ready for the battle.

  The attacker, instead of pressing the attack while the momentum of the battle was on his side, backed off across the room, almost as if fleeing from the one he attacked. On the opposite side of the chamber, he spun around, a renewed lust for the fight burning in his eyes.

  Likewise, instead of pressing into his retreating attacker as he knew he should, Dak'gnu found himself falling back in shock and horror. "Are you all right?" Gerrod asked, steadying the warrior on his shaky feet.

  "I'm okay, Gerrod," he reassured him. "I was just surprised. What ever you do, don't allow anyone to interfere. I'm afraid this is a personal battle; and it's mine."

  With that said, Dak'gnu settled back down into the conflict at hand. From the attacker's place on the other side of the chamber, Gerrod recognized the dark black skin and shocking white hair of a drow warrior. He wondered, "Had this warrior been sent to stop us?"

  From the warrior's many wrinkles and manner, Gerrod guessed that he was much older than Dak'gnu, which spoke volumes about its skill and experience. It handled the curved-bladed weapons with a grace and elegance that reminded Gerrod hauntingly of Dak'gnu's own style with the blades. The warrior advanced evenly with Dak'gnu, back into the battle. His eyes glowed fiercely with the red points of infravision burning in his sockets. The flickering torchlight bothered it little.

  In a dazzling display of skill on both sides, Dak'gnu engaged the drow warrior in a fine dance that was sword-play at its finest. As Ace, the rest of Wefpub, and even the priests pressed in to get a view of the spectacle, Gerrod reminded himself this was not play. Any of the razor-sharp blades could deal a deadly blow, and as quickly as the conflict started, it could be over.

  Still, it seemed that Dak'gnu was being very cautious. The ranger saw openings he knew the quick drow could take advantage of, but he seemed reluctant to press the even rhythm of his dance. Dak'gnu was doing more than fighting for a victory or his life, he was carefully studying his opponent.

  Gerrod had seen Dak'gnu mow his way through dozens of drow warriors in their escape from Mezzo'Dakmania. Even though this particular opponent seemed much more experienced and a far better fighter than those they had faced earlier, Gerrod was confident that Dak'gnu was being overly conservative. Dak'gnu struck out wide, bringing his opponent's blades out to parry the attack, but instead of moving quickly for the inside strike, he simply watched as the man reacted, as if amazed.

  Dak'gnu made dozens of minor hits, but it didn't seem to slow the constant and steady assault of his enemy. The stern drow warrior took the painful hits on his exposed flesh without reaction. Though Gerrod knew the wounds to be painful, the straight-faced drow warrior refused to grant the satisfaction of expressing his injury. Gerrod noticed, too, that even the deeper wounds refused to bleed. He considered Dak'gnu's acceptance of the punishment from the drow priestess's whip and considered this constitution to be a peculiar trait of drow. But then he also remembered the magical collar Dak'gnu wore that he claimed gave him constant re
generative powers. This was a device, he explained, used to prolong the amount of torture and agony that could be inflicted on him before he passed out. This particular drow warrior sported no such collar.

  The battle continued for several long minutes, with Dak'gnu showing signs of fatigue, but neither seemingly willing to advance the fight to a more active level. What ever seemed to be holding Dak'gnu back from this fight also seemed to restrain the warrior as well.

  Finally, as if not able to continue this farce much longer, Dak'gnu launched into a risky set of moves that taxed his remaining reserve of energy. He swung the long sword fiercely, and followed through with the quick dagger. While he found the long sword pushed aside in a carefully orchestrated defensive block, the dagger managed to dart in, twisting and weaving an unpredictable path, and slide neatly between the drow warrior's ribs.

  The blow was a lethal one, plunging deeply into the heart muscle of the warrior, and twisting around to puncture a lung. With all reason, the man would drop to the ground and die before Dak'gnu could pull back the blade. But this wasn't a reasonable fight. Despite the grievous wound, the warrior fought on, still refusing to slow or even acknowledge the success of the strike.

  Dak'gnu didn't seem surprised any longer. He made another carefully planned attack, this time varying the swings. This time he jabbed in with the dagger, followed by a sweeping move that required the drow's second blade to counter. This dazzling move left the warrior off balanced, and with no weapon to block the long sword as it flew a delicately aimed arc across the dark-skinned man's throat. It sliced a thin line into the flesh. The weight of the blade severed through the man's spine, and carried it cleanly out the other side.

  The drow's head sat there a moment, balancing precariously on the slender neck as if deciding whether it wanted to fall or not. It finally rolled off to the side, accepting the fate of gravity. With the unforgettable sound of a dull thud, it struck the solid floor of the chamber, even as the rest of the body sunk to meet it there. The battle was won, but Dak'gnu felt no relief or satisfaction in the skillful victory. He too sank to the floor. His body collapsed on that of the fallen warrior, and he openly wept.

  Bitter tears streaked down either cheek, his heart-felt sobs coming in heaps and gasps. He was visibly shaking as Gerrod and his other friends came to him and comforted him for what ever upset him so. In time he was able to collect himself from such a state Wefpub had never seen him in. He picked up the grisly head by either side of the helmet that still protected the skull, and looked into the now darkened eye sockets. Gerrod noticed for the first time that the sockets were empty, robbed of the infravision-seeing eyes he thought it had. Dak'gnu handled the head respectfully, and delicately set it back down on the top of the neck, as if trying to reconnect it to the body.

  He bid help in standing, and it came from all around, as Gerrod, Ace, and Allison lent hands and shoulders to help prop their friend to his feet once more. With the remainder of his dignity, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and sheathed his great weapons before choosing to speak.

  Impatient for the answer to the question that begged everyone, Ace blurted it out, "Who was that man?"

  Dak'gnu considered the dwarf with earnest, as he did everyone gathered around him. He measured the safety of those there in that room before deciding he couldn't be in the company of any he trusted more. "That man was my father."

  Without further explanation, Dak'gnu ceremoniously stretched the body out. He folded the arms and weapons of the warrior on his chest and drew shut the eyelids over the empty sockets. He voiced a short prayer that was respected with silence by all those there. He kissed the tips of his own fingers, and pressed them gently to the forehead of his kinsman. The short ceremony completed, he efficiently checked the area for things he might have dropped or forgotten, before readying himself to continue their journey.

  The large chamber offered little but the remnants of a dozen charred and decomposing skeletons. Once proud people like his father, these people were now little more than dust on the floor. In time, Dak'gnu's father would join their ranks. Dak'gnu was respectful and careful not to disturb any of these remains. He searched the area carefully and, once assured that was all that was there, renewed his march.

  Unsure how to help their stoic friend, or even if he needed help, the members of Wefpub followed the dark elf as he renewed his climb up the trail. Allison pressed ahead of the group, to come up behind the quiet drow. "I take it you and your father didn't get along?"

  Dak'gnu didn't answer her at first. He continued to walk, face forward, pace unwavering. Allison, never afraid to make a pest of herself, was ready to repeat her question when Dak'gnu drew in a deep breath. He knew there was no use in ignoring her; she wouldn't go away.

  "He wasn't actually my father; he was closer to me than my real father. He was to be my father-in-law, Do'Sol. I haven't seen him in almost a year," he explained. "The last time I saw him, he was tortured and killed by Mother Fa'Langa, right before my eyes. He had been used as an example, just to show me what she was willing to do. She never had to do it: I always knew what she could do."

  "That's terrible," Allison agreed. "But if he died over a year ago, then how --"

  "Rai'dley," he answered her unasked question. "That back there wasn't Do'Sol, but the animated corpse of Do'Sol. That was a zombie of Rai'dley's creation."

  "It didn't fight like any zombie I've ever seen," Allison protested.

  "It wasn't like any zombie you've ever seen. That's what I've been trying to tell you. Your King's Guard isn't just a bunch of zombies. They still retain all the fighting and weapon skills they ever had. They can attack with the swiftness of their experience, and use whatever tricks they have ever mastered. They are immune to fear and all of the other things that make zombies bad, and are just as willing to carry out their instructions. They're smart enough to do more than simple things like guard and attack; they can carry out more complicated missions. What ever force the King's Guard was before, they just got worse by ten-fold."

  "I see," came her profound reply. "So tell me about your father-in-law. He seemed like quite the accomplished fighter."

  "Do'Sol never got to be my father-in-law: I never married. But he was my mentor and the First Male of the Second Family. He was one of the best swordsmen in all of Mezzo'Dakmania, and was the pride of the Second Family, Fa'Langa." Dak'gnu seemed to brag, his face was full of reminiscent pride.

  "Wasn't Mother Fa'Langa the First Mother? Is she your mother?"

  "No!" he came back a bit too harshly. He moved to apologize, but Allison let him know that it wasn't necessary. With great control, he continued his story.

  "I come from the family of Myn'Gotha, former First Family. First Family, that is, until that night."

  "What night?" Allison asked, almost afraid to disturb the haze of memories that flooded back on her friend.

  "The night that I betrayed the Family Myn'Gotha. The night the Family Fa'Langa slain my family, and she became First Mother."

  "Maybe you should start at the beginning. How did you betray your family?" Allison's interest was genuine, and Dak'gnu needed to tell his story to someone. He had held it to himself, hidden it in his shame for so long, that it demanded to be told.

  "That priestess who tortured me with her whip before we made our escape was Fa'Sol, my intended wife. She was a member of Family Fa'Langa, the Second Family, and our union was to strengthen both our Families. Her father, Do'Sol, took me in as his pupil. He taught me the ways of the warlock and I was his prodigy. He even helped me create my Soul Dagger. I never loved Fa'Sol near as much as I cared for her father. He was closer than my own.

  "In fact, it seems, I never got along well with any of my own family. If there was ever anything we all agreed on, I don't know what it was.

  "Then one day, while out patrolling the outer rim of the city, I came upon this surface elf by the name of Rai'dley. I didn't slay her
as I should have, but rather led her into the city. She claimed to be related somehow to the elves that originally formed the drow race, and she was treated as a queen; at least by Family Fa'Langa. They believed her claims, where my own family did not. Having been the one who discovered her, I too wanted to believe in her, and so I was quick to side against my mother.

  "I suppose it was a typical drow move, though I've never been able to excuse myself so easily. I saw that Mother Fa'Langa promised a better and stronger First Family than my own, I respected Do'Sol and wanted him to be in the First Family, and I accepted Rai'dley where my own family never would. So on one night, I betrayed my family. I sought out Mother Fa'Langa, and gave to her the secret passwords to get through my family's magical defenses. I let them in the door, and they slain all of my family, all but me. I wish now that they hadn't spared me.

  "As soon as Mother Fa'Langa was established as the First Mother, I was an outcast. Call it shortsightedness, but I was no longer considered a person, being a male without a family to claim me. I was no longer acceptable as a husband for the daughter of the First Family. Furthermore, not being a member of the Ruling Families, I was no longer suitable to be the student of the First Male, and Do'Sol was ordered to stop my teachings.

  "The man loved me as much as I him, and so in secret, we met for our daily bouts. It was during one such lesson that we were discovered. He was disgraced for defying the demands of the First Mother, and likewise removed from the ranks and privileges of the First Family. We were locked up in the dungeon together, both tortured. We shared the pain and the agony together. This only served to tighten our bond. This closeness infuriated Mother Fa'Langa.

  "One day, she came into the dungeon, released Do'Sol from the very shackles that held Gerrod, and killed him before me. 'You shall be taught no more!' she cried at the top of her lungs, and with that, took away the one thing that ever really meant anything to me in all of Mezzo'Dakmania.

  "Little did I know when I met that frail, exhausted surface-elf there on the outer rim of the city that she would prove to be so terrible -- the bane of my existence. I hate her as much as I do Mother Fa'Langa, if not more so. At least I should have known better with Mother Fa'Langa: she was just being a drow mother. But Rai'dley took advantage of me, lied to me, and cheated me out of everything I've ever cared for. I vowed to myself, on the day that Do'Sol was murdered, that I would avenge his death. It seems now that I have to do it all over again. Rai'dley must be stopped."

  So concentrated was he on his cathartic story, Dak'gnu never realized that he had stopped his march and that the small army of priests had gathered around him and started setting up camp. When he finished his tale, to the crowd of those who had gathered around to hear the telling, he was embarrassed. Allison begged him not to be, and somehow, he just couldn't refuse.

  They camped only long enough to rest and eat, and once again settled down to the hard climb. Dak'gnu's tale only inspired them onward. They all felt for the strange elf, and wanted him to have his revenge. They had all felt the pride and dignity of his mentor, and wanted this victory for him just as much. But mostly, they knew that only by defeating Rai'dley and reclaiming the Orb of the Righteous, would they be able to restore peace and order to their troubled world. The fate of Carrona itself depended on them.

 

  Chapter 28

  The Queen of Death