Rich Wulf - Rise of the Seventh Moon

They pressed on as night fell around them. Fortunately, with so few cities in the Talenta Plains, the skies were so clear that ample moonlight and starlight illuminated their path. The ancient bones that loomed around them shone a faint blue.

“Stay alert,” Seren whispered watching the bones around them. “There were monsters here when we came looking for Kiris.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them,” Zed said. “Dragons are fiercely territorial. Zamiel probably frightened them off.”

“You have a way of putting people at ease, Arthen,” Omax said.

The inquisitive chuckled.

The pass they followed through the bony ruins took a sudden turn to the left. Seren peered around the corner. The Boneyard opened into a large clearing, lined with draconic skeletons larger than any she had seen before. In the center of the clearing, a ball of brilliant blue flame seethed in midair. Seren felt a strange sensation as she stared into its depths, as if part of her was forever falling into something vast and infinite.

“I hope that’s what we’re looking for,” Zed said.

Omax nodded. His eyes now shone the same color as the flame.

Seren noticed the stars flicker as a shadow passed overhead. She grabbed Omax’s arm, stopping the warforged as he began to move forward. The ground shook as a heavy shape struck the earth in the clearing. The dragon landed with his back to them. His broad copper wings fanned the night air. Many of his scales were blackened, but he was otherwise unharmed by his battle with the elemental. The dragon took no notice of them, leaning low to stare into the flame.

“What must I do?” Omax asked.

“Just touch the fire,” Tristam said. “The rest should work itself out.”

“Will we have time to run or will this be like Zul’nadn?” Zed asked.

“I don’t know,” Tristam said. “I’m not even sure it will work.”

“So we don’t need to beat Zamiel,” Seren said. “Just distract him long enough for Omax to touch the flame.”

“Wait here, Omax,” Zed said. “We’ll circle around and distract him.”

“Hurry,” Omax said. “Not much time remains.”

They made their way back into the maze of bones. For several minutes they picked their way around until they reached another pass that entered the clearing. They were at the dragon’s left side now. Zamiel still stared patiently into the blue flame, front claws cupped around it. Seren felt the urge to run, to cower and hide until the prophet went away. She began to tremble. Tristam, still leaning against her for support, shook as well.

“Dragons radiate magical fear,” Tristam said. “I’m not sure what to do about that.”

“Same thing we do about the regular sort of fear,” Zed said, hefting his sword. “Try not to think about it. Tristam, you’re no good to us with that leg. Stay here and back us up at range.”

Zed charged first, but Seren was faster. She darted in toward the dragon, drawing her daggers. The dragon wheeled about the moment she entered the clearing, looking down at her with dull hatred. She barely dodged aside as its claw drove into the ground, shattering rock and bone. She hurled her dagger at the dragon’s face. It stuck harmlessly in his right cheek, like a pin lodged in a piece of thick wood. Zamiel did not appear to notice.

Zed was behind her, slashing at its arm with a heavy blow from his sword. His sword gleamed white as it struck, and the dragon hissed in pain. It pulled away, blood streaming over its claw.

“Paladins,” the dragon growled. “Always paladins.”

Zamiel reached for Zed, but a silver bolt of lightning from Tristam’s wand scorched his injured hand. The dragon roared in irritation, lumbering toward Tristam. Behind him, Omax dashed into the clearing toward the flaming sphere. As he reached the edge the dragon turned suddenly, lashing out with his tail. Omax was hurled backward across the bony plain. The dragon rounded on him.

“Idiot warforged!” Zamiel roared. “I can sense your connection to the Timeless as clearly as you sense mine. Did you believe you could thwart me? I have planned this for centuries.”

Zamiel pinned the warforged to the earth with one claw and leaned close, taking in a deep breath. Omax reached out and snatched Seren’s dagger from his cheek, slashing it across the dragon’s eye. Zamiel roared, his acidic breath spraying randomly across the clearing. Zed lunged toward Seren, grabbing her as he rolled, ducking behind an outcropping of bone as the deadly breath washed over them.

She risked a glance around her cover and saw Omax rushing toward the flame. His body steamed from the dragon’s breath; the adamantine plates that covered his left arm were fused and melted. The dragon recovered itself just as Omax reached the fire. It lashed out with one claw just as Tristam fired another burst of lightning at his face. The dragon’s claw impaled the warforged. Seren thought she saw Omax’s fingers touch the tip of the fire, but she wasn’t sure.

Nothing happened. Omax lay beside the flame, pinned to the earth by the dragon’s claws. The blue light in his eyes flickered and went dim. Zamiel looked at the rest of them, a slow grin spreading across his face. His remaining eye shone with malevolent green light. Zamiel’s chest swelled as the dragon inhaled deeply, looking down at Tristam. He released a cloud of boiling acid over the artificer.

“Tristam!” Seren cried out.

The cloud cleared. Tristam stood unharmed. He stared up at the dragon in surprise.

Zamiel’s eye widened. “No,” he growled. “How?”

“Prophet, hold your wrath,” said a deep voice.

Omax rose slowly to his feet. Twin plumes of bright blue fire now blazed in his eye sockets. He stared at his open hands in wonder, as if seeing them for the first time. An eerie silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the distant gibbering of the Boneyard’s inhabitants.

“No!” Zamiel roared, spinning to face the warforged. “How is this possible?”

Omax tilted his head. “Is this not what you sought?” he said in the alien voice. “Is this not what you desired? To help me find an end to my solitude?”

“Yes, but I was to be the vessel!” the dragon snarled. “Me! This is my destiny!”

“I am confused,” the voice of the Timeless replied. “I thought you only wished to aid me.”

The dragon’s snarl faded. “Of course, Timeless,” he said, speaking with excessive calm. “But this one is not suitable to be your avatar. He is flawed. Imperfect. My ancestors created you-I know how to control your power.”

The warforged’s hands closed with a sharp metal click. “I do not wish to be controlled,” the Timeless said. “I wish only for an end to my solitude.”

“But you do not know this world,” Zamiel said. “You will require the guidance of one who is wise.”

“Don’t listen to him!” Tristam cried.

“Quiet,” the Timeless said. Omax’s body gestured at Tristam. The artificer was thrown backward, scattering bone shards as he slid across the ground. A chorus of mad shrieks echoed from the creatures of the Boneyard. Zed could feel them huddling at the edges of the shadows, gathering to watch what was happening.

“Well done, Timeless,” Zamiel said. He circled behind the warforged, glaring at Zed and Seren. “Now deal with the other mortals as well so that we can discuss the future of this world without interruption.”

The warforged opened one hand and stared at its surface. “How peculiar,” the Timeless said. “Why does it sadden me so much to harm something so temporary?”

“It is as I have said,” Zamiel said. “You have chosen an unworthy vessel. Abandon it!”

“No,” the Timeless said. “I am intrigued.”