Sorcerer's Shadow - Chapter 40: Dragonlord

* * * *

Returning home, my legs felt reinvigorated, but my mood was less so. I was increasingly irked at Lynn’s persistent elusiveness, and I found myself swearing off Fedya’s forever. Settling into my favorite chair with a glass of brandy, I mused over my predicament.

“Back to the drawing board, Opal.”

“We could give it another shot tomorrow.”

“My legs can’t endure that.”

“Right. So, what’s the next plan?”

“Not sure. Let me ponder a bit.”

As I roamed around my flat contemplating alternatives, buying a long-distance magic spell crossed my mind. However, magic was unreliable and too easy to defend against. For instance, the ring I wore, which cost less than a week’s wage, could ward off most magic attacks.

Poison? Too unpredictable unless you’re a professional. Dropping a rock on his head seemed tempting, but if unsuccessful, it would tip him off, making my task more difficult.

No, a swift sword thrust was the safest bet; it offered certainty. That implied either sneaking up behind him or catching him off guard. I inspected my dagger, an excellent tool for a knife-fighter. Ideal for slicing or hacking, it could prove fatal against the back of a neck. My rapier, on the other hand, was ideal for stabbing under the chin and into the brain.

Sheathing the knife, I clenched my fists and continued pacing.

“Come up with something, boss?”

“Possibly. Give me a moment to mull it over.”

“Sure.”

Later, I said, “Alright, Opal, we’re going to simplify this. Here’s what I need you to do…”

* * * *

Our journey had moments of pure insanity, bouts of uncontrollable laughter.

Just keep moving.

Hunger and thirst pushed us to the edge, as tantalizing food and drink laid tantalizingly close, yet off the path.

Just keep moving.

Giant chasms appeared before us, nightmares came to life, friends became foes, and enemies ridiculed us. I can’t speak for Drevolan, but the tension in his stance, his gritted jaw, and the pallor on his face were telling.

Keep moving. Halt, and you’ll be forever stuck. Veer off the path, and you’ll lose your way. March into the blustering wind, brave the snowstorm, endure the landslide. Continue the journey.

Numerous paths interlacing, Drevolan making the choices, we clenched our jaws and persisted. Were we traveling for hours? Or minutes? Maybe years? I can’t tell. Despite the safety provided by taking the right-hand paths, shielding us from physical assaults, we once got targeted by a spectral sjo-bear. I distinctly remember its paw swiping right through my head, yet, shockingly, I felt nothing. I’m still unsure if this incident occurred on a right or left-hand path.

To be honest, I can’t fathom how the deceased cope with this.

We reached a stage where rest became imperative. So, we ate and drank just in front of another grey stone. I ceased probing with pointless questions. For one, I knew Drevolan would offer no response. Secondly, I felt if he shrugged off one more query, I’d lose my restraint and stab him. I presume he harbored similar sentiments towards me.

After recuperating, Drevolan led us down the left path, and I steeled myself.

“Holding up alright, Opal?”

“Barely scraping by, boss. What about you?”

“Likewise. I wish we knew how much longer this is going to last. Or perhaps ignorance is bliss.”

“Indeed.”

Not long after, subjectively speaking, the path ahead of us suddenly broadened. Drevolan halted, glanced up at me, and a slight smile lifted his spirits. He quickened his pace, and soon the trees vanished into a haze, which lifted to expose a towering stone arch featuring a giant dragon’s head. Our path led directly beneath this arch.

As we strolled through, Drevolan announced, “The realm of the dead.”

Confused, I replied, “I thought we were already in it.”

“No, that was merely the periphery. Now, things are bound to get weirder.”

As we continued, an Imperion was leisurely strolling towards us. His attire, black and silver, signified the House of the Dragon. He sported an intimidating sword across his back. As we awaited his arrival, I glanced up at what I anticipated to be the typical orange-red overcast of the Imperion Empire. However, there was no sky. Just a uniform dull grey, so vast and perplexing that it made me dizzy. I decided to stop trying to comprehend it.

Upon closer inspection, the newcomer’s countenance didn’t seem hostile. Not that it could be, given his flat forehead and paper-thin lips. As he approached, I noticed his breathing and couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or not.

He halted, furrowed his brows, and directed his gaze at me, “You’re a Terran.” His gaze then moved to Drevolan, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. “And you’re alive.”

I asked, “How did you figure that out?”

Drevolan barked, “Quiet, Viktor.” He then nodded at the Dragonlord, stating, “We’re on a mission.”

“Living beings do not belong here,” the Dragonlord retorted.

“Marya,” Drevolan announced.

The corners of the Imperion’s mouth twitched. “A Fenghuang,” he acknowledged. “An exception indeed.”

“Regardless, we are here.”

“You may need to present your case to the Arbiters of Afterlife.”

“That,” responded Drevolan, “is exactly why we’re here.”

“And you will need to demonstrate your worth.”

“Understood,” Drevolan affirmed.

“Come again?” I interrupted.

Ignoring me, he continued, “You will be obliged to confront and conquer champions of—”

“This has to be some prank,” I interrupted again.

“Silence, Viktor,” Drevolan ordered.

I resisted, “Why? Can you provide one solid reason why we should battle our way to the Arbiters of Afterlife, only for them to annihilate us for intruding?”

The stranger responded, “We are from the House of the Dragon. We battle because it brings us joy.” He flashed me a wicked grin, spun around, and strolled away.

Drevolan and I exchanged glances. He shrugged, and I barely restrained my fist. Looking around, we found ourselves encircled by Dragonlords. I counted a dozen of them. One advanced a step, announced, “D’Verill,” and unsheathed her sword.

Drevolan retorted, “D’Lira,” drawing his weapon. They exchanged salutes.

I retreated a step, questioning, “Are we certain we can physically interact with them?”