Legacy Of The Dragonkin
Sample Chapter
By Dan Wright
Not to be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission from the author.
By Dan Wright
Not to be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission from the author.
Chapter 5
The Kthonian Knights
Rothark rushed back to the encampment as fast as his rock hard heels could take him. This news had come at just the right time. In fact this news could not have been better. That is, assuming they had found the right chest.
The men were gathered around the chest that the search party had found. Rothark pushed his way through, knocking men aside. “Where did you find this?” Rothark asked the team.
“About ten miles from the camp,” the man nearest the chest replied, barely any breath in his voice. “It was buried very deep – took hours to find it.”
Rothark looked at the chest to verify that this was indeed the one they were looking for. At first glance, it did not seem different from any other chest. However, there was something unique about it. It was covered in runes that were unfamiliar to him – they were too obscure and arcane to be anything humans could create.
“Yes,” Rothark exclaimed. “This must be the one! Get it open!”
A hooded man rushed to the chest with a sturdy crowbar. The man jammed the end into the chest, pushing it in as far as he could. With one foot on the chest, he pushed down on the crowbar to pry it open. It was a tight squeeze and the crowbar looked as if it was going to snap, but this crowbar was made from dracconhide steel – the hardest metal on the planet. The chest would break before the crowbar did.
Rothark rubbed his hands as he waited for the chest to open. Soon, he thought, soon I will have the most powerful warriors at my side. If what the Man in Shadow said is true, then even the Baalarians will fall. We shall have our revenge.
The runes started to glow a disturbing blue. This frightened some of the men, one of whom cried aloud in panic. “The chest is cursed! We must not disturb it!”
“Pipe down, coward!” Rothark scolded, smashing him underneath the chin. “This is it, my brothers. Soon we will have an ally on our side that no one will be able to stand against. Our freedom will come!”
One last pull was made and the chest was wrenched open. A cloud of gas escaped, engulfing all nearby. Everyone shielded themselves as the smell of decades gone by assaulted their nostrils. The gas disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. As the gas dissipated, four bizarre figures stood before Rothark and his followers.
The first was the youngest of the group – probably not out of her teenage years. She was dressed in black armour with bones sewn into it. She had short, black hair and piercings through her mouth as well as her ear. On being free, she lifted up a scythe as a form of victory – this one made from the same sorts of bones as her armour, a chain connected to the end of the handle.
She sat on the shoulder of a hulking brute of a man – although ‘man’ was probably not the right word to use. He was of a size that made even Rothark look tiny. His red armour vaguely resembled that of old Leonidan armour, but it was crudely made and sown together from a soft, crimson that looked like human flesh. Where his hands should have been razor sharp blades had been forced in them to make crude weapons. One looked like a double-headed axe, the other a curved sword.
Beside him was a feminine looking figure in dark blue armour, adorned with Shadorian patterns. A number of knives were attached to the armour, like a toolset of weapons. Long, white hair covered one side of light purple skin – with lips fixed with a sultry smile.
The final figure was a dark-skinned woman of eastern descent. Her raven black hair draped over her full body armour, adorned with monstrous creatures that resembled lizards – though whether they were dragons or snakes the men didn’t know. Across her shoulder rested a long scimitar, her other hand flexed up and down, her amour clinking together. It was good to move again after so long not being able to do so.
“That feels nice,” she said. The others also flexed and stretched, as if they had woken from a century long sleep. “We’re free again, my family.”
“Yes,” bellowed the monstrous brute in red armour, his voice anything but human and more like a snarling animal. “My blades thirst for blood!”
The dark woman turned towards their saviours, a little disdainfully. Of all the things she could have dreamt of as her first image on being awoken, a dirty, wild man was not really one of them. “You could do with a bath,” she smirked.
“Who are you?” Rothark snarled. “Where are the Kthonian Knights?”
“You’re looking at them,” the dark woman murmured.
“YOU are the Kthonian Knights?” Rothark screeched.
“My apologies, I did not formally introduce us,” the dark woman asked sardonically. “I am Jihadain.” She then pointed to the rest of her team and addressed them accordingly. “The shadorian you see is Abyss. The large fellow is Ravage – Furie there is his little sister.”
“You are no knights,” Rothark growled again.
“You better watch what you say, you big oaf,” Furie, the youngest of the knights said, jumping off her brothers shoulder. “Or else we’ll make you eat your words.”
“Watch your mouth, little boy,” Rothark snapped back, “or else I’ll beat your backside.”
“I’m a girl!” Furie snarled. It was not the first time she had been mistaken for a male as she had very boyish looks – but she always hated it. “And if you so much as look at my backside, I’ll slice your fingers off!”
“I have no use for women!” Rothark growled.
“I see male attitudes haven’t changed in the least,” the knight known as Abyss said in a smooth, but husky voice. “But then, men were never ones to make full use of their brains.”
Rothark felt humiliated. The Man in Shadow would pay for his treachery later. “You dare talk to me that way? I shall rip you apart!”
“You’ll have to go through me first!” Ravage growled, in a voice that was twice as loud as Rothark’s.
Ravage took a step towards Rothark, but Jihadain raised her hand. “I appreciate the offer, Ravage,” Jihadain said, “but this brainless ape will be no trouble for me.”
Rothark would not allow himself to be insulted in front of his men. “No one calls me an ape!”
His fist launched at Jihadain, but Jihadain just held up her palm and the fist was halted in its advance. Rothark cried aloud as the bones in his hands cracked, as if he was punching solid rock. The pain was excruciating.
“I-impossible,” Rothark cried, “n-n-no one can stop my fist.”
Jihadain grinned. “I have more strength in my little finger than you have in your entire body.”
Rothark angled his head to see how Jihadain could have stopped his fist with just her hand. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he saw that she was just holding back his hand with just her pinkie!
“That… that can’t be!”
Jihadain placed her fingers over the top of his knuckles and squeezed his hand, instantly breaking any bone that hadn’t already snapped. Jihadain squeezed with such force that the damage travelled up his arm and to his shoulder. All the bones in his arm had shattered, making his limb useless. He screamed, falling to one knee.
“Abyss,” Jihadain said casually, “would you please find out as much as you can from this man and read his mind – if he has one?”
Rothark’s terrified breath came out in jittery stutters as the cold beauty that was Abyss stepped forward. Abyss pulled back white hair, revealing a shimmering swirl of fog where a right eye should have been. Rothark felt another terrible pain, as if someone was squeezing his brain from the inside.
“Interesting,” Abyss mused. “So you wanted to find us so that you can use us to destroy the Baalarian Empire.”
“The Baalarian Empire?” Jihadain asked. “I didn’t know they had taken over Drewghaven?”
“It looks like they moved there recently,” Abyss continued. “This ape was looking for us – hoping that we would help him,” Abyss continued.
“Really?” Jihadain murmured. “Then we owe you our thanks, good sir.
Abyss’s smile widened. “I see; I don’t blame you really. I’d be terrified too if I found a creature like that crawling up my skin, wrapping around my body, squeezing the life out of me...”
Rothark felt something scaly crawl up his leg. He looked down and screamed as a huge snake crawled up his body, slowly wrapping itself around his waist and neck. Rothark fell to the ground, unable to breathe or scream as the serpent crushed all life from him. His band watched in horror as their master convulsed as if he was being strangled – although they saw nothing. Jihadain knelt down next to Rothark as his skin turned bright red.
“Don’t take this personally,” Jihadain whispered. “My family and I don’t play well with others. But don’t worry – I’ll destroy the empire for you. And anyone else I come across.”
Jihadain tapped Rothark’s body lightly, but he was no longer moving. “I think you went tough on him, Abyss.”
“Did I?” Abyss asked, completely devoid of remorse. “Forgive me, I must have got carried away.”
Jihadain turned to the men, every single one of them trembling in fear at having seen the way they had been able to bring down a mountain of a man like Rothark.
“This was his army? A group of thugs and morons?” she scowled. “Oh well, waste not want not.”
Her eyes glowed purple. The hooded men fell to the ground, hands to their heads as their brains burned from the inside – their pupils turning the same colour as Jihadain’s. With agonised screams, their bodies started mutating.
“We shall continue where we left off,” Jihadain said to herself. “I do hope Daniar is still around. It would be nice to see my old friend once more.”
The men were gathered around the chest that the search party had found. Rothark pushed his way through, knocking men aside. “Where did you find this?” Rothark asked the team.
“About ten miles from the camp,” the man nearest the chest replied, barely any breath in his voice. “It was buried very deep – took hours to find it.”
Rothark looked at the chest to verify that this was indeed the one they were looking for. At first glance, it did not seem different from any other chest. However, there was something unique about it. It was covered in runes that were unfamiliar to him – they were too obscure and arcane to be anything humans could create.
“Yes,” Rothark exclaimed. “This must be the one! Get it open!”
A hooded man rushed to the chest with a sturdy crowbar. The man jammed the end into the chest, pushing it in as far as he could. With one foot on the chest, he pushed down on the crowbar to pry it open. It was a tight squeeze and the crowbar looked as if it was going to snap, but this crowbar was made from dracconhide steel – the hardest metal on the planet. The chest would break before the crowbar did.
Rothark rubbed his hands as he waited for the chest to open. Soon, he thought, soon I will have the most powerful warriors at my side. If what the Man in Shadow said is true, then even the Baalarians will fall. We shall have our revenge.
The runes started to glow a disturbing blue. This frightened some of the men, one of whom cried aloud in panic. “The chest is cursed! We must not disturb it!”
“Pipe down, coward!” Rothark scolded, smashing him underneath the chin. “This is it, my brothers. Soon we will have an ally on our side that no one will be able to stand against. Our freedom will come!”
One last pull was made and the chest was wrenched open. A cloud of gas escaped, engulfing all nearby. Everyone shielded themselves as the smell of decades gone by assaulted their nostrils. The gas disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. As the gas dissipated, four bizarre figures stood before Rothark and his followers.
The first was the youngest of the group – probably not out of her teenage years. She was dressed in black armour with bones sewn into it. She had short, black hair and piercings through her mouth as well as her ear. On being free, she lifted up a scythe as a form of victory – this one made from the same sorts of bones as her armour, a chain connected to the end of the handle.
She sat on the shoulder of a hulking brute of a man – although ‘man’ was probably not the right word to use. He was of a size that made even Rothark look tiny. His red armour vaguely resembled that of old Leonidan armour, but it was crudely made and sown together from a soft, crimson that looked like human flesh. Where his hands should have been razor sharp blades had been forced in them to make crude weapons. One looked like a double-headed axe, the other a curved sword.
Beside him was a feminine looking figure in dark blue armour, adorned with Shadorian patterns. A number of knives were attached to the armour, like a toolset of weapons. Long, white hair covered one side of light purple skin – with lips fixed with a sultry smile.
The final figure was a dark-skinned woman of eastern descent. Her raven black hair draped over her full body armour, adorned with monstrous creatures that resembled lizards – though whether they were dragons or snakes the men didn’t know. Across her shoulder rested a long scimitar, her other hand flexed up and down, her amour clinking together. It was good to move again after so long not being able to do so.
“That feels nice,” she said. The others also flexed and stretched, as if they had woken from a century long sleep. “We’re free again, my family.”
“Yes,” bellowed the monstrous brute in red armour, his voice anything but human and more like a snarling animal. “My blades thirst for blood!”
The dark woman turned towards their saviours, a little disdainfully. Of all the things she could have dreamt of as her first image on being awoken, a dirty, wild man was not really one of them. “You could do with a bath,” she smirked.
“Who are you?” Rothark snarled. “Where are the Kthonian Knights?”
“You’re looking at them,” the dark woman murmured.
“YOU are the Kthonian Knights?” Rothark screeched.
“My apologies, I did not formally introduce us,” the dark woman asked sardonically. “I am Jihadain.” She then pointed to the rest of her team and addressed them accordingly. “The shadorian you see is Abyss. The large fellow is Ravage – Furie there is his little sister.”
“You are no knights,” Rothark growled again.
“You better watch what you say, you big oaf,” Furie, the youngest of the knights said, jumping off her brothers shoulder. “Or else we’ll make you eat your words.”
“Watch your mouth, little boy,” Rothark snapped back, “or else I’ll beat your backside.”
“I’m a girl!” Furie snarled. It was not the first time she had been mistaken for a male as she had very boyish looks – but she always hated it. “And if you so much as look at my backside, I’ll slice your fingers off!”
“I have no use for women!” Rothark growled.
“I see male attitudes haven’t changed in the least,” the knight known as Abyss said in a smooth, but husky voice. “But then, men were never ones to make full use of their brains.”
Rothark felt humiliated. The Man in Shadow would pay for his treachery later. “You dare talk to me that way? I shall rip you apart!”
“You’ll have to go through me first!” Ravage growled, in a voice that was twice as loud as Rothark’s.
Ravage took a step towards Rothark, but Jihadain raised her hand. “I appreciate the offer, Ravage,” Jihadain said, “but this brainless ape will be no trouble for me.”
Rothark would not allow himself to be insulted in front of his men. “No one calls me an ape!”
His fist launched at Jihadain, but Jihadain just held up her palm and the fist was halted in its advance. Rothark cried aloud as the bones in his hands cracked, as if he was punching solid rock. The pain was excruciating.
“I-impossible,” Rothark cried, “n-n-no one can stop my fist.”
Jihadain grinned. “I have more strength in my little finger than you have in your entire body.”
Rothark angled his head to see how Jihadain could have stopped his fist with just her hand. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he saw that she was just holding back his hand with just her pinkie!
“That… that can’t be!”
Jihadain placed her fingers over the top of his knuckles and squeezed his hand, instantly breaking any bone that hadn’t already snapped. Jihadain squeezed with such force that the damage travelled up his arm and to his shoulder. All the bones in his arm had shattered, making his limb useless. He screamed, falling to one knee.
“Abyss,” Jihadain said casually, “would you please find out as much as you can from this man and read his mind – if he has one?”
Rothark’s terrified breath came out in jittery stutters as the cold beauty that was Abyss stepped forward. Abyss pulled back white hair, revealing a shimmering swirl of fog where a right eye should have been. Rothark felt another terrible pain, as if someone was squeezing his brain from the inside.
“Interesting,” Abyss mused. “So you wanted to find us so that you can use us to destroy the Baalarian Empire.”
“The Baalarian Empire?” Jihadain asked. “I didn’t know they had taken over Drewghaven?”
“It looks like they moved there recently,” Abyss continued. “This ape was looking for us – hoping that we would help him,” Abyss continued.
“Really?” Jihadain murmured. “Then we owe you our thanks, good sir.
Abyss’s smile widened. “I see; I don’t blame you really. I’d be terrified too if I found a creature like that crawling up my skin, wrapping around my body, squeezing the life out of me...”
Rothark felt something scaly crawl up his leg. He looked down and screamed as a huge snake crawled up his body, slowly wrapping itself around his waist and neck. Rothark fell to the ground, unable to breathe or scream as the serpent crushed all life from him. His band watched in horror as their master convulsed as if he was being strangled – although they saw nothing. Jihadain knelt down next to Rothark as his skin turned bright red.
“Don’t take this personally,” Jihadain whispered. “My family and I don’t play well with others. But don’t worry – I’ll destroy the empire for you. And anyone else I come across.”
Jihadain tapped Rothark’s body lightly, but he was no longer moving. “I think you went tough on him, Abyss.”
“Did I?” Abyss asked, completely devoid of remorse. “Forgive me, I must have got carried away.”
Jihadain turned to the men, every single one of them trembling in fear at having seen the way they had been able to bring down a mountain of a man like Rothark.
“This was his army? A group of thugs and morons?” she scowled. “Oh well, waste not want not.”
Her eyes glowed purple. The hooded men fell to the ground, hands to their heads as their brains burned from the inside – their pupils turning the same colour as Jihadain’s. With agonised screams, their bodies started mutating.
“We shall continue where we left off,” Jihadain said to herself. “I do hope Daniar is still around. It would be nice to see my old friend once more.”