Jean Rabe - Redemption

The shadow dragon hardly bothered to glance at the Solamnic Knight, as it closed on the draconian and the naga, its lips drawn back in a feral smile, showing its teeth.

The beast didn’t even care about her, she thought. First it would finish Maldred. Then Ragh. Finally she would be the only one left alive… the only one… alone.

Fiona rushed forward, sword gleaming in the magical light that still swirled around the chamber. She brushed by Ragh and closed on the shadow dragon, swept her sword hard and wide, and bit into a thick, scaly plate on the dragon’s stomach.

The shadow dragon wheeled on her, astonished to have been attacked by a lone human. His eyes narrowed on the magic weapon.

“Your sword,” the shadow dragon cried. “I will have it now.”

“Fiona!” Maldred shouted.

“I’ll have the magic in your sword,” the dragon repeated, “and I’ll have you.”

Fiona spat at the beast and pulled back, swinging her sword forward into the dragon’s outstretched claw, digging into dragon flesh and causing a spurt of black blood.

“Come and get me, dragon!” she yelled.

“Fiona, get back!” Maldred shouted again. He had come up behind the dragon, where he touched his thumbs together and hurriedly tried a spell. His hands took on a faint green glow, and he stood and pointed his fingers like weapons at the shadow dragon.

Ragh finished his strangling of the naga and dropped her to the ground. He stumbled over her serpent-body, spun and shot for the shadow dragon.

At that moment, with the shadow dragon distracted by so many foes, Dhamon felt a surge of power.

In his mind’s eye the mirrored dragon had been chasing the evil dragon. Now the mirrored one breathed a black cloud that streamed toward the other.

Fiona thrust upward. Her enchanted blade dug deep into the staggered shadow dragon.

He had sacrificed too much energy to power the transference spell. He had used up all but the last of the god-magic that had birthed him in the Abyss.

Again Fiona thrust her sword, unknowingly buying Dhamon precious seconds to increase his mental battle and release his breath weapon. Buying Maldred time to enforce his spell. Buying Ragh time to close on the weary old dragon with his talons.

“Come and get me, dragon!” Fiona yelled again.

The mirrored dragon breathed again in Dhamon’s mind—and suddenly that black breath materialized in the chamber beneath the mountains. The black, poisonous cloud raced away from Dhamon’s maw to engulf the shadow dragon’s head.

In the wink of an eye, the shadow dragon was finally purged from Dhamon’s mind, and in that instant, Dhamon shook off all of his sluggishness.

The shadow dragon slammed a claw down on Fiona. He swung his head about, watching Maldred balefully. The ogre’s spell sent globes of green fire at the creature.

Maldred with his green fire, Ragh with his mighty claws, Dhamon with his breath weapon. The three united to attack the beast.

It finally fell.

As Fiona had fallen.

When they looked around, the naga had disappeared without a trace. Ragh had thought the frightful creature was dead, but Nura must have slithered off during the final battle—the demise of her beloved master. They didn’t have the energy or the heart to follow after the child-snake-woman who had ensnared them all in her mad scheming.

They buried Fiona deep inside the dragon’s cave, near where she’d valiantly made her last stand.

Near her head, Maldred used his magic to turn the rock wall into liquid—for several moments—then he rammed her prized long sword into the stone. The once-enchanted sword would forever mark her honorable fate.

Maldred spread the enchantment over the earth and broken stones, sealing the spot into a smooth sheet of rock.

“I hope she’s found Rig again,” the draconian said when Maldred was finished. “I hope that if there is something beyond this world, a place where spirits go when their bodies are done… I hope she’s there with Rig. That together they’re at peace.”

Dhamon didn’t say anything. He closed his great dragon eyes and silently grieved—for Fiona and Rig, for Shaon and Raph and Jasper. For all the lives he’d touched and befouled. Minutes later, in eerie silence, he slipped from the chamber, taking the widest passage that climbed to the surface. Maldred and Ragh followed him.

They didn’t speak until they emerged in the foothills. The sun was setting, painting the dry ground with a warm glow and setting Dhamon’s scales aglow as if they were molten metal. Dhamon lay down, talons stretched to the horizon, wings tucked in close.

Ragh cautiously climbed up first, settling himself at the base of Dhamon’s neck between two wicked-looking spines. Maldred waited, watching the sun sink lower, the glow start to fade. Then he perched himself behind Ragh, grasping one of Dhamon’s spines and clenching his legs tight as the dragon spread his wings and effortlessly vaulted into the sky.

Flying came instinctively to him, and Dhamon wondered if it was seeded in him by the dragon-magic, or whether it was partly because of the years he flew on the back of the blue dragon Gale. The wind rushed above and beneath his wings, played across his head and caressed his back. He felt he should be troubled by his ruined humanity, but the power of this new form, the sensation of flying, kept his morose thoughts at bay.

Perhaps there was something wonderful and fated about becoming a dragon. Dhamon found himself enjoying the sensation of flying so high above the earth.

“Where are we going?” Ragh had to shout to be heard above the wind.

Dhamon’s answer was to bank far to the south, to the edge of the mountain range. The sky was starting to grow dark by the time he landed, nodding for Maldred to get off.

The ogre-mage did so with some reluctance.

“I will miss you, Dhamon,” Maldred said. “I will hope that fate sees to bring us together again, and I will hope that in the intervening time you find a way to forgive me.”

Dhamon waited until the ogre-mage stepped away before spreading his wings. His legs propelled him skyward once more, and as he rose higher his neck craned back for a last glance at his onetime friend.

The blue-skinned giant was gone. In his stead was again the bronze-hued man with a handsome, angular face and close-cropped, tawny hair. That was the old form that Dhamon knew and the one that seemed to suit Maldred the best.

“You’re not dropping me off on some lonely peak,” Ragh grumbled. Softer, but not so soft that Dhamon couldn’t hear, he added, “Besides I’ve nowhere to go.”

Their course took them slightly west now, then toward Haltigoth. Stars were winking into view by the time they landed. The draconian slipped from Dhamon’s back, and Dhamon called upon a spell that came to him unbidden from mysterious depths.

Within the span of a few moments, the dragon that was Dhamon Grimwulf appeared to fold in upon himself, shrinking, then becoming flat, like a pool of oil. The oil glided silently to the draconian, attached itself, and moved with him as his shadow. Ragh hurried to the nearby village, skirted the stable, and passed beyond the closed merchant stalls. There was a small, stone building with a thatch roof. Dhamon’s keen senses led them there.

Ragh crept toward a window at the back.

Riki and her husband sat at a wooden table. Riki cradled an infant—a boy with mysterious, dark eyes and wheat-blond hair. A boy, Dhamon decided, that he would check in on again over time to make sure his way in this world was safe and profitable.

“Seen enough?” Ragh whispered after several minutes. The draconian did not want to risk discovery.

Aye, the shadow answered. I have seen well and enough.