Song of the Dragon

from the fold that illuminated the two humans that remained.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Braun said through a smile to Drakis.

Drakis grabbed the Proxi by the elbow and dragged Braun’s shaking form to his feet. “I’m beginning to wonder if I do either.”

“Oh, I think you’ll know soon enough,” Braun said, giving Drakis a shove through the fold portal. Then Braun’s smile took on a darker, more vicious aspect. “I think we may all know soon enough.”

With that, the Proxi stepped through the fold portal with his staff. The fold collapsus at once. . choking off the light from the distant plaza and plunging the abandoned hall into utter darkness.

CHAPTER 2

The Folds

Drakis stepped into a killing field.

The fold behind him collapsus into a thunderclap, the sound joining the rolling chorus of other booms that shook the enormous subterranean plaza as four more folds delivered their own warriors into the battle. More than three hundred Impress Warriors erupted into the square, pouring from their own folds at the base of an enormous, bas-relief covered wall and onto the plaza floor.

The enraged dwarves were already upon them. The Warriors of the Ninth Throne ran with incredible speed from the towering rotunda at the far end of the plaza, their bright-edged axes and swords swinging in their hands as they rushed headlong toward the Impress Warriors.

“They’re engaging us before we’ve formed up!” KriChan shouted.

“Timuran Centurai!” shouted ChuKang above the battle cries of the charging dwarves. “Battle line! Now!”

The manticores and chimera scrambled to find their places as they had practiced so often in the sunlit fields south of the shining towers of their home. . but the dwarves broke upon them in a mad fury, shattering the lines of the four Centurai in the hall before any of them were prepared. Mad dwarven warriors bowled heedlessly past enemies at hand, their eyes fixed on the First Octian of the Centurai.

Drakis glanced at ChuKang.

They’re after the captains, he thought.

ChuKang’s face broke into a vicious grin.

A hand fell on Drakis’ shoulder. Drakis spun about, his sword swinging up instinctively.

“Drakis. .”

It was Braun.

“I don’t feel. . well. .” Braun’s eyes were blinking furiously. “I’m seeing too much. . hearing too much. .”

No, not the captains, Drakis realized. It’s the Proxis the dwarves want. No Proxi, no fold. . no fold, no escape.

Drakis gripped Braun’s shoulder too hard, shouting words into his face in the hope that they might somehow be heard. “Braun! Stay near me! Understand?”

Braun grinned back in reply, his eyes unfocused.

Drakis turned back to face the onslaught, his voice breaking as he screamed the command. “Octian! Octian!”

Time slowed in his mind. The formation of the Centurai had dissolved completely into a sea of vicious, desperate combats.

He saw the face of GriChag glance in his direction, then turn to face a dwarf whose ax was trying to find the manticore’s knees.

Ethis took several steps backward, trying to join Drakis, but a berserk dwarf launched himself against the chimerian, dagger in hand.

The song overwhelmed the sound of death and steel.

Mountains of stone and of dead fell dreams. .

Seeds that are planted in dark. .

Long for the sunlight. .

Wait for the sunlight. .

“DRAKIS! WAKE UP OR DIE!”

Drakis heard the warning from the chimerian barely in time. He flattened his back against the cold stone of the plaza wall, thrashing about with his sword as he desperately tried to parry the dervish flailing of the enraged dwarf pressing his attack. The ornate granite wall immediately chilled the back plate of his armor, pulling the heat out of his body with painful swiftness. He was grateful for the pain; the shock of it focused his mind. Drakis thrust fiercely, kicking hard away from the stone behind him with his right leg, rolling into his opponent before the dwarf could counter the blow. Drakis trapped the creature’s weapon arm in his own and forcefully bent it outward. He felt the thick bones crack as the dwarf howled, but he kept on, pulling the dwarf forward by his broken arm and throwing him to the ground. Desperate, Drakis reversed his grip on his sword, plunging it downward toward the dwarf’s chest-but another dwarf suddenly sprang onto his back, his thick arms wrapped around Drakis’ throat. Drakis panicked, trying to strike at the beast now throttling him, but his sword only flailed ineffectively at his back. What little vision remained to him was rapidly going blurry.

“He’s an insect, idiot!” Ethis yelled at him. The chimerian reached back with his fourth arm and shoved Drakis toward the cold wall behind him.

Drakis lurched back, smashing the dwarf between himself and the stones of the plaza wall. The impact rattled the dwarf enough to loosen his grip-but not enough to make him let go. Drakis staggered forward, hoping to smash his unwanted rider once more when he saw-incredibly-the dwarf with the broken arm running toward him. Blood streamed down his face as he screamed, his ax in his good hand. Flashes of light danced around the edges of Drakis’ vision as he watched the berserk dwarf charge at him. At the last moment, Drakis spun away from the horrible specter just as the gleaming edge of the ax blade swung toward him. He felt the impact of the blow behind him. Hot air suddenly rushed into his lungs as the second dwarf, still clinging to his back, took the thrust and released his grip.

Drakis swung around again, drawing his blade up swiftly behind his head. Too late. The berserk dwarf had already shoved his dead confederate aside and leaped toward the human, his ax blade descending toward Drakis’ face.

The flight of the dwarf was suddenly arrested in midair by the blur of a massive club swinging out of the darkness and connecting with the body. Drakis heard the dwarf’s armor crumple under the blow and the collapse of its rib cage just before the dwarf flew backward, vanishing under the feet of the raging combatants.

“Nice hit, GriChag,” Ethis commented, slightly out of breath himself. Drakis could barely make out three still shapes lying at the chimerian’s feet. “That one was worthy of the Imperial Games.”

“Not good,” GriChag replied with disappointment, his deep voice rumbling. The manticore’s massive dark head shook with disapproval a full two feet above Drakis. “I was aiming for his head.”

Drakis, still choking, stepped quickly back to the relative safety of the plaza wall and tried frantically to catch his breath. His Octian was forming a defensive circle around him, pulling ChuKang and KriChan both within their perimeter.

“When all else fails, depend on your Octian, eh, Drakis?” ChuKang yelled over his shoulder as he drew his twin swords across the throat of a dwarf before him.

“That is what you taught us,” Drakis shouted hoarsely as he rubbed his throat. Panic suddenly gripped him and he turned quickly. “Braun!”

“I’m here, old friend,” Braun replied. The Proxi stood next to Drakis, his sandals and feet covered in blood from the bodies about them, but he took little notice of either. Instead, he gazed at the bas-relief covering the wall towering behind them. “There are cracks in the wall, you know. I’ve been looking at them for some time now, and