Chapter 35 - Guardian of the Dungeon

Hump found himself standing in front of Celaine before he’d spared a thought for what he was going to do next. Heat singed at his face the moment the dragon’s breath exploded from its mouth. The air howled, and a wave of searing hot wind surged forth.

Instinctively, he planted his staff into the ground and raised his left hand toward the jet of flame, fingers outstretched. He drew a deep, final breath, and focused inward on the river within him.  The fear didn’t leave him, but he pushed every shred of it, along with the power in his body, through the runes of his staff. The wood smouldered and white essence poured out like clean smoke.

“Shield,” Hump shouted, voice lost in the wind. With his word, the air shimmered as a wall of essence took form before his outstretched hand, expanding from a point until it reached the size of a door. A single sheet of essence now the only thing that stood between them and the green fire of an undead dragon.

It wasn’t enough. He was certain of that even before he had finished the spell, and that alone would mean its failure. Before anything, a wizard’s firm intent was the prerequisite to any spell. If even he did not believe in it, then how the hell was it going to stop anything. Gods, the heat alone was going to roast them alive even if his shield could hold. He felt it as if time had slowed down, his body screamed for him to dive aside. His skin stung all over as the fire singed him. He’d never resisted this much power before, not even at full strength.

You have to try. Think, Hump. Think! A wizard always has a way.

There was no room for doubt. He knew this wasn’t going to work, and that made it a certainty. A simple wall wouldn’t be enough to stop the fire, it would wash over and around it like it was hardly there, consuming them. He had to do more. He had to be clever. And he had to believe.

Hump shaped his essence with his will and with his mind. He curved the shield around them, enshrouding them in an impenetrable sphere of pure essence.

It would hold.

He never stopped chanting that in his mind, the words giving life to the spell just as they gave him focus. The runes on his staff blazed with white light, and the wood grew hot to touch, to the point Hump wasn’t sure if it was the dragon’s fire or essence. He didn’t care, all he thought of was the shield.

Nothing would break through. Not a lick of flame would touch them. Not a spark.

The fire broke over the shield in waves of blazing emerald, enveloping them in flame until it seemed as if the entire world had been consumed and they were all that remained. Hump gasped, his cloak flapped and danced around him as the air churned like a storm. Heat scorched his skin just as bitter cold lashed out in tendrils from his core, every bit of essence he had left going into the spell. The shield shone brilliantly, lighting up with great swirling patterns of shifting blue and green as it responded to the fires touch.

Not a spark! Hump thought. Not a spark!

The shield held. Somehow, it was holding. He could do this.

But the fire didn’t stop. He shrank back from the heat, barely keeping his shaky left hand raised toward it. His shoulders slumped as his body tried to curl in on itself, chewed apart by the cold that expanded on his insides, just as the heat scorched his skin. Only because of his staff did he remain on his feet, clutching to it like it was the mast of a raft caught in a hurricane. His skin burned, and every bit of essence he had left was consumed by the shield, the sliver of wizardfire still within him gone with it. His power was fading.

Not a spark.

It would hold. He would survive this, he would protect Celaine, and he’d escape this hell pit and enjoy the small bit of coin he’d worked so hard to earn. He held all that close to his heart as he fought. But the pain…

Gods it hurt.

Distantly, he heard himself screaming. It was a different part of him, the animal, the part where instinct came from. And it was irrelevant. What mattered was focused inward on the river that coursed through him. In it, he threw all that pain and fear, all that hope and heat and cold—and he funnelled it into his shield.

When the fire finally died the world seemed to be a shade darker. Hump’s chant had turned to a croaky whisper, his throat raw. His legs gave out beneath him and he dropped to his knees, propped up by his staff, his fingers locked around the shaft and unable to let go. Someone’s voice called for him, but it was distorted and far away, he couldn’t make out the words. His head flopped forward.

He waited for the deathblow to come. He’d given it his all—even surviving that one attack felt like a miracle—but he knew no gods were at work with him today. He was alone. Gods cared little for wizards, no matter whether he was trying to do good or not. His life simply didn’t matter. He was expendable. Distantly, he felt his spellbook shake.

Seconds passed. Hump waited for the dragon’s sharp bite. He just hoped it would be quick. More seconds passed, he felt himself shaken and breathed a raspy breath. He blinked, light returning to the world. Celaine was at his side helping him stay upright. She said something but he couldn’t make it out, all he heard was howling wind. But it didn’t matter, Hump’s eyes were on the dragon.

There was no next blow. Not because of any gods, but the reason was no less miraculous. Kassius lunged at the dragon, his armour shimmering like liquid as he plunged his sword deep into the scales of its neck. The creature staggered back, roaring—clearly this undead felt pain.

As it reared back, the black paladin thundered in on its flank. He moved with a speed and grace no man in heavy plate armour should be capable of, feet striking the ground like hammers. He slashed through the dragon’s left foreleg, hamstringing the giant beast. Blood and green light poured from the wound, but the black paladin didn’t stop. He spun, whirling another slash of his giant sword into the next leg, bringing the creature to the ground. It wailed again, staggering to right itself and trying to retreat to its nest. Despite the devastating blows, it could still move. The wounds were healing quickly, and Hump could see why.

A chain of red light bound the dragon to the dungeon core like a hound chained to its master. Essence flooded the link, fuelling the dragon’s strength. The light that radiated from the wounds knitted flesh back together almost as quickly as the damage was dealt. For weaker warriors, it was an impossible foe. But for Kassius and the Black Paladin they never gave it a chance to regain its footing. Each time it tried to stand, the Black Paladin was there, hacking at its legs and removing its mobility. Around him a dark smog rose from beneath his armour, smoking into a cloud that hung around him. An aura of death, the power of Lord Rathlar himself.

Meanwhile, Kassius circled it. He didn’t attack the dragon, instead, his sword carved markings into the ground around it, trapping it within. He stood before the dragon with a face furrowed in concentration, then, as if by an invisible force, the dragon was squashed flat to the ground. It screeched and writhed but it couldn’t stand. Magic held it. Magic so powerful the dragon couldn’t even raise its head.

Gods above, Hump thought, eyes wide. Kassius had won. In that moment, he knew he was seeing a man deserving every bit of as much respect as any Chosen. This was a true prince. A man that Hump could call his liege and know the old man would be proud. This was a way for him to do good and be more than just a hedge wizard following the coin.

Hump smiled weakly. With the dragon subdued, there was nothing left to defend the dungeon core. They were going to make it out, and he was going to make something of himself.

Pain suddenly flared in Hump’s cheek. He blinked, as a hand pulled his face back up and Celaine stared him dead in the eyes.

“Hump,” she growled. “Do you hear me?”

“You slapped me!” He tried to yell, but it came out as barely more than a croak.

“I’m getting you out of here.” He felt her hands under his arms, and she dragged him back into the tunnel they had come from, his heels scraping along the ground as she pulled. There, she rested him up against the tunnel wall. “Stay here,” she said, standing and turning her back to him.”

Hump frowned. “Wait,” he said panicked, his voice croaking. “Where are you going? Celaine, stop! You’ll get in the way.”

She looked back at him with those green eyes, more serious than he had ever seen them. “That’s the plan. I have to stop this.”

“It’s already dead,” Hump said. He didn’t know what the dragon was to her, but he knew it was important. And he knew it was too late. “It’s been torn to pieces! All that keeps it alive is the dungeon’s power.”

“No,” she growled, tears streaming down her face. She was in denial. Emotion was taking over, and Hump knew how dangerous that was. “A piece of it lives on.”

“You need to calm down,” Hump said softly. “You’re not thinking straight. Its soul is gone. Nothing could have survived being turned to undead.”

“Then why is she defending her egg?” she snapped. “Look at it, Hump. She won’t leave her nest. She won’t let anyone come near her egg. And in all this, she’s not come close to crushing her child. There must be something left in her, and I won’t allow Kassius to destroy it. I won’t let him have the piece of her that remains. I just won’t. Her egg will return to where it belongs.”

Hump narrowed his eyes. He was too tired to make sense of this, it was like trying to think through a cloud. “We should talk to Kassius. If we tell him—”

“Look at him, Hump!” she snapped. “Really look. Does that look like a hero to you?”

Hump forced his tired eyes to focus. He peered out from the tunnel and saw Kassius’ straight, thin blade of polished steel—except it wasn’t just that. Black veins bulged from the steel like streaks of poison, oozing with essence that was so dark Hump felt sick. More than that, the repulsion went to his core. To his soul, as if it wanted to flee from his body. He got the sudden sense that life emanated from that blade, and it wanted nothing more than to kill. The sword was laced with death magic.

The prince’s lips were moving as he chanted something under his breath. Around the dragon, Hump now saw the reason for those cuts at the ground. Runes.

Thirteen runes surrounded the beast—the number of the fallen god. The number of evil. They radiated a pale, terrible light. It was cold, not physically, but instead the type that penetrated to the core of his being. Goosebumps rippled along his flesh as the chill went through him. There was evil to that light. A lot of it. So much raw power that even at a distance it awoke that part of Hump that wanted to desperately stay alive, screaming at him to run and hide.

He’d been so blinded by the prospects of wealth and fame, and the hero persona Kassius had set out to exemplify, that he had missed what was before his eyes.

Undead kobolds were gathered in the shadows of the room, armed with slings, and bows and spears. Their bodies glimmered with the purple light of death magic. They peppered the dragon from afar, tearing holes into its wings; chipping and breaking away at its scales to reveal the fleshy insides within. Green light pulsed from deep within those wounds as the dungeon core fought to keep the dragon’s body intact.

Kassius and the black paladin hadn’t been fighting the dragon alone.

It was Kassius, Hump realised. All of this. He’d been the one to release the Raise Dead spell in the shrine. It was because of him that the villagers had been killed, even as he pretended to save them. There had been no imperial aura repelling the undead attack, they had simply ebbed and flowed by his command.

“He’s the necromancer,” Hump said hopelessly. “How? He… He did everything right.”

“We were tricked,” Celaine said. “Now we need to deal with it.”

“But if it’s him, there’s nothing we can do,” Hump said, defeated. “That spell was far beyond anything of our level. He’s practically fighting the dungeon guardian alone.”

“If he had the strength to release spells like that, he wouldn’t need all of those kobolds to help him bring down the wolf dragon,” Celaine said. “He must have used an artefact.

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” Celaine said. “But if I’m right, I might be able to disrupt the formation and ruin whatever it is he’s doing. There might be a chance.”

“It’s suicide.” He didn’t have the strength to argue, nor the clarity of mind to come up with a more convincing argument. “We should go back and find Vamir. He’ll know what to do.”

“It will be too late. You saved my life, Hump. You’ve done enough. Stay here and out of the way. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Every part of this is stupid.”

“I’m fast. I can make it.”

She snuck out of the tunnel, taking cover behind the closest boulder, her dagger in hand. Hump sighed. So much for not stupid.

Hump felt essence in her movements as she slipped closer, streams of green smoke trailing her body. Completely different to the cold green light of the dragon. It was the green of sunlight through leaves and fresh grass. She snuck further forward, finding herself another boulder to perch behind. She took the dagger by the point of the blade and took aim. In one quick and perfect motion, she threw.

The blade spun handle over point, flying straight and true, and embedded itself straight through the centre of Kassius’ forehead.

Kassius’ eyes went wide. So did Hump’s. Celaine had just killed a prince.

Nothing stupid my arse, Hump thought.

Light shone from the wound, the same cold light that illuminated the runes around the dragon, and from the great beast itself.

Kassius didn’t fall. Instead, he turned to face Celaine.

“You dare!” he snarled, seething hatred burning in his voice. He reached for the handle of the dagger in his forehead, but before he could take it out the dragon’s tail whipped out and slammed into his body. He flew back hard, striking the back of the dungeon wall with a crash. Dust and rock flew up around him.

The dragon lunged at the black paladin, breaking free of the runes that bound it and biting down on the warrior with its massive jaws, engulfing the top half of his body. It shook him hard, then tossed him aside as if his armour weighed nothing. The crash that followed was like thunder.

The undead wolf dragon, guardian of the dungeon, hunched toward its fallen foes and roared.

The beast was free, and it was angry.