Michael Mathias - Kings, Queens, Heroes, and Fools

Their oaths wouldn’t be easy to keep though. To kill the heartless Dakaneese cavalrymen they had to find a way to get across the river. And at the moment, that seemed like that might be impossible.

Hyden’s abdomen swelled to the size of a small melon, but only for short time. The dragon’s tear medallion he wore around his neck was like a fountain, sending warm sparkles of healing magic showering over his body. Mikahl was adding to the effect by using the melodies of Ironspike’s song as well. The damage the poison was doing to Hyden’s body was being continually healed, but the poison itself was still inside him. Its potency didn’t seem to be diluting. Its deadly effects were still trying to shut down his vitals. Over and over he felt the horrible explosions of pain the venom caused in his gut. It was unbearable. Hyden found himself on the verge of wishing that death would take him so that he didn’t have to stand the pain.

Mikahl was at a loss. He was scared out of his wits. Every time he touched Ironspike to his friend, he prayed to the gods that the sword wouldn’t take Hyden’s life. Mikahl could see plainly that Hyden was in a bad way. His friend’s normally tanned skin was a sickly greenish color and his clothes were soaked with perspiration. Hyden was trembling as if he were freezing cold, and Mikahl had no idea what to do about it. He found himself having to fight back tears as Hyden’s nearly unconscious body began to shudder and shake violently.

“All the gods be damned!” Mikahl yelled at the dingy stone ceiling. “If this man dies, then you‘re no gods at all!”

Hyden’s hand found Mikahl’s. “Go,” he rasped. “Save Princess Rosa.”

“I’ll not leave you to die alone,” Mikahl said with tears flowing freely down his face. He couldn’t help but hiccup as a sob overtook him.

The magic of the teardrop soothed Hyden, if only slightly. “You have to go,” he said, a little more forcefully. “They’ll know you’re here now. Get Rosa and go.”

“Not without you.”

“I’ll not be leaving.” Hyden stopped to cough. The pain was debilitating. It was a long time before he found his voice again. “Not leaving with you.” His hand fell away from Mikahl’s and his eyes rolled back into his head. Through tears and curses Mikahl used Ironspike’s magic on Hyden again. After a few moments Hyden’s eyes fluttered open. “You’re still here?”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Mikahl promised.

“You have to.” Hyden’s greenish face split into a weird grin. His hand went to the medallion at his neck. “I have a trick left up my sleeve, Mik. Trust me. You have to go.”

“What are you going to do?” Mikahl asked.

“If you’ll go away, I can call the dragon, Claret. She’ll come and heal me properly.” Hyden had no idea if Claret could heal him, or if she could even answer his call. He didn’t doubt she would come if she knew he needed her, but he didn’t think she could help him while he was down in the dungeon. She could be on the other side of the world. He just knew that he had to do something to get Mikahl on his way. He would rather die miserable and alone, with the hope that Phen and Princess Rosa might escape the Dragon Queen. He definitely didn’t want to go thinking that their only hope was down here waiting to get caught because of him.

“What do I do?” Mikahl asked himself more than Hyden.

“You go. You get Rosa and get her safe.” Hyden squeezed Mikahl’s hand. He was starting to tremble again. “Once she’s safe you come back and try to get Phen.” He coughed again and the pain made him drain of all color.

“Aye,” Mikahl agreed. He leaned down and hugged Hyden tightly. “Are you sure you want me to go?” he asked through his anguish.

“Aye, Mik, before you get caught.” Hyden managed to get his trembling arm around Mikahl and hugged him back weakly. “Hurry, before Claret comes.”

“Aye,” Mikahl agreed, making his voice sound as confident and hopeful as he could. “Sir Hyden Hawk, I love you like a brother.”

Hyden released him. “Aye. Go, Mik. Hurry.”

Mikahl rose and wiped away his tears, then turned and nearly ran out of the death-filled cell. As soon as Mikahl was gone, Hyden sought out Talon’s vision. He found his familiar ’ s sight. After it combined with his own into a spectral view of the land below the soaring bird, he began calling out, not to Claret, but to the goddess of his people. He was about to die, and he wanted her company as he went. He needed Talon to make the journey to her. He knew that he was far too weak to make it alone.

Mikahl stopped and leaned against the wall outside the cell. He was certain that Hyden was dying. He understood his friend, and he knew that Hyden wanted him to finish what they’d started. To do otherwise would make Hyden’s death pointless. After he steadied himself, and got the tears to stop flowing from his eyes, he decided to dispense with the subterfuge and started back through the dungeon the way they had come.

He walked for a while in a daze. His mind couldn’t stay focused. It kept drawing him back to his friend and the horrible death that he was probably facing at this very moment. He found himself at the cross passages where Hyden had first heard the dying giant. It was the third time he had been there since he’d left Hyden. At least that’s where he thought he was. It looked exactly the same, yet felt different. He forced the dire thoughts of Hyden’s situation from his mind and tried to concentrate. After a few minutes he realized what it was. He hadn’t gone back down any stairs yet. This crossway was probably exactly over the other one, just on a higher floor. He started for the stairwell, which he thought he might know the location of. As he turned a corner, he heard a distant conversation taking place. He nearly tripped over a small creature, a cat, or maybe a big bug. It fled into the shadows before he could see exactly what it was. It didn’t matter, though. The conversation suddenly stopped. It took him only a moment to figure out why. The deep blue light of Ironspike’s blade had found those who were speaking.

A scuffling sound came from ahead of him. He squinted into the gloomy edges of Ironspike’s light trying to see what it was. Just as he took a step in that direction, a zard-man leapt from the darkness at him. Its toothy pink mouth was open wide. In its big black-orbed eyes, Mikahl could see his own distorted reflection growing larger. He didn’t panic, nor was he startled. Almost casually, he sidestepped the creature and let its own momentum carry it across Ironspike’s blade. The zard was dead before it hit the floor.

Mikahl strained his ears over Ironspike’s roaring chorus to listen for the other one, but he heard nothing. He took a few quiet steps back toward the intersection of tunnels he’d just left and chanced a glance down one of them. He saw nothing but darkness. He held his sword up to extend the range of its light and still saw nothing.

Suddenly, he heard a crackling roar from behind him. His own shadow leapt forward down the hall as a sun-bright flash exploded at his rear. The blow hit him in the back and sent him sprawling. The massive jolt jarred him to the bone. He could barely see now, and would have surely been cooked by the magical lightning had Ironspike’s protective wards not absorbed most of the blast’s power. He rolled and called forth shields from Ironspike’s symphony. A translucent shell formed around him, but not before he was blasted again, this time by some bright red kinetic beam. After the shield stopped its burning power from reaching him, he looked down to see a big smoking hole in his shirt. The smell of burnt chest hair and flesh filled his protective globe. When he looked back up he saw the demon-wizard Pael looking back at him, and the rage that filled him turned the bluish glow of Ironspike’s blade white.