Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

Spike saved him from having to choose a direction. The lyna raised his tail up high and, with a quick glance back, started off as if he knew exactly where he was going. Hyden shrugged and staggered after him. The direction was as good as any. The place, Hyden decided, was the definition of featureless.

They walked for a very long time. Hyden had to stop once due to another fit of coughing that had him spitting out coppery tasting chunks of phlegm. Then he leaned over and vomited out most of the liquid that was left in his body. After that he fell to a knee and vomited some more. His head spun so bad that, for a time, he forgot where he was. He recovered, though, and continued staggering after the lyna. Once, he heard something growling low, and far too near. He saw several pairs of ember eyes watching him from a distance, but he we was too ill to be afraid of them.

Suddenly, it seemed that the lyna was hovering over the smooth floor. Hyden looked on curiously until the sharp edges of a stairway defined themselves in his eyes. Spike was leading him upward. He hadn’t seen any sort of light down here so he gnashed his teeth together to bear the stress and started up after the lyna. The stairway circled ever upward and seemed to have no end. Hyden, drenched in his own fluids, and shivering with fever, climbed up them for what might have been forever.

Mikahl was somewhere over Westland riding on the back of his magical Pegasus when he spotted a big dark shape winging its way toward him. He was glad to see that Phen had found the dragon collar and was riding in the right direction. He reined the bright horse into a hover, and then let a wide crimson swath of magical energy burst up into the air as a beacon for the boy to see. The dragon banked and came toward him for a short time. Then suddenly it dove and sped away to the south. It was all Mikahl could do to keep up, much less gain on the sleek flying wyrm, but somehow the bright horse managed it. Mikahl saw that it wasn’t Phen on the dragon’s back. It was one of the red-robed priests he had seen gloating over him when he was incapacitated, and another rider. They were the ones who had set the trap for him and Princess Rosa. He decided that he didn’t want to miss the chance to eliminate such a formidable enemy. He urged the bright horse into a position above and slightly behind the powerful looking wyrm and then let loose a ripping streak of jagged yellow lightning at them. The crackling blast missed the riders, but tore a sizable hole in one of the dragon’s wings.

The wyrm roared out in pain and wheeled itself in a new direction. The priest sent a spiraling blue blast of energy back up at Mikahl, but Ironspike’s shields absorbed the attack. The bright horse might have been slightly faster than Vrot, but it wasn’t nearly as agile in the air. The young black dragon used his long sinuous body to turn and spin and sent a spewing blast of its sizzling acid breath over Mikahl. Once again the High King’s sword absorbed the attack, but the vapor of the corrosive stuff made his eyes fill with tears and took his breath away. By the time he could see again, the wyrm had carried the priest far to the south. Mikahl’s eyes were streaming and blurring. He knew that, even if he caught back up with it, the dragon could outmaneuver him. He could barely fight the pain in his lungs. He cursed as he was forced to circle his fiery steed down to the earth.

The bright horse was a magical extension of himself. It was manifested through Ironspike, but it wasn’t a real winged creature that could see, or act on its own accord. It couldn’t guide Mikahl if he couldn’t see. He didn’t have a choice, he told himself. Phen could remain invisible and hide awhile longer.

Mikahl was glad when he saw that he was coming down over the marshlands south of Westland. There was plenty of water there. All he could think about by the time he had his feet on not-so-solid ground was washing his stinging orbs. It was with great relief that he knelt along the spongy shoreline and finally splashed water onto his face. Luckily for him he still had Ironspike in his hand, because an explosion of water and teeth came lunging up at him and took him by suprise.

The winding stairway finally ended and another smooth expanse of blackness spread out in all directions. Another coughing session racked Hyden to the core, until he felt like he’d spat up half of his insides. He had to spend some time lying on the cold floor.

Soon the lyna was moving purposefully away again. Hyden struggled to follow and found confidence that at least Spike was going where he wanted to.

Hyden just wanted to lie down and die. All the moving and sweating was doing nothing for his body except spreading the venom deeper and deeper into him. He was glad that Mikahl, Phen and the Princess were all right. He’d seen Mikahl cleave Shaella’s head, and he’d felt the rage surge through the thing that used to be Gerard after it happened. How he’d survived the monster’s wrath was beyond him. As best as he could figure, he had been so out of it that Gerard probably thought he was dead. Or maybe, a tiny bit of him hoped, some inner part of Gerard had fought through to protect him. He’d seen his brother’s eyes when they first recognized him. The thing had even spoken his name. A shiver ran through Hyden and he started to cough again. He fell to his knees, leaned forward, and hacked for a very long while.

For a time, he thought that this was it. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t focus. It was over. Thick drool ran from his mouth. It tasted strongly of blood and was full of tiny granules of his dissolving body. After a while, where all he could do was gasp for air with deep rasping heaves, he leaned his head back and said a prayer to the White Goddess.

It was a short prayer, and not very polite. Why she would send him so far into hell just to die in a puddle of his own fluids was beyond him. He longed to be with Talon just one more time, to fly through the heavens and feel the air rushing past him, or maybe to climb to the heights of the nesting cliff, where Gerard had found the hawkling for him, so long ago. He coughed again and nearly heaved when he had to spit small bits of rotten flesh from his mouth. Tilting his head back to draw breath, something registered in his brain.

“Light.”

Hyden cocked his head. Had he heard that? Or was he just losing his mind as well as his innards? He looked around. The lyna was a few feet away walking in a curious circle. Hyden wiped his sweat drenched face with his shirt sleeve and tried to stand.

“Light.”

He heard it that time, but knew that he hadn’t heard with his ears. He looked at Spike. The lyna stopped and returned his gaze. He could barely see the little cat-like creature, but he knew it was what had spoken to him.

“Light, follow,” Spike said and started off again.

Hyden stumbled after the creature. He finally caught his pace so that he was walking more than falling. After a short exhausting jaunt, the lyna stopped.

“Light,” it said simply.

Hyden looked ahead of them. There it was, like a single star shining in the sky-a speck of light. It was impossible to judge how far away it was. A thousand yards maybe? A league? Who could say? Hyden didn’t care. He had to get to it before he collapsed into a fit. He knew he couldn’t survive another one.

The light grew as he approached. Was it a doorway? A lantern? He couldn’t tell. After a few hundred more steps his heart sank. It hadn’t grown at all. It was still just as far away. To make things worse, he began to hear a scraping, grunting sound coming from behind him. Deep heavy breathing accompanied the noise. He wasn’t the only thing attracted to the light. He hurried his pace as best he could without falling down. He was sweating so profusely that he was leaving a trail of wet footprints. A glance back revealed a huge spidery shape with several legs. It was dragging something laboriously as it came, but it was coming nonetheless.