The Hollow Grove: The Companions [Book 2]

Prologue

THEN

Solun 138 - Third Age - Final Battle of the Great War

Kellis Vöhl saddled Slate. To saddle a Dragon, even as large as Slate, the rider had to affix leather straps in eight directions, slipping the silver hooks beneath their scales. One would think this would harm the Dragon, but keeping in mind that their scales were harder than most metals it made sense.

"Into the fray yet again, old friend?" asked Kellis.

Slate swung his massive head toward his rider. "So they tell me. The Dark One only knows where we're headed this time."

A Dragon's voice was described by most mortals as lightning crashing, but Slate's voice sounded more like thunder in the distance. It was lower and more reserved than most of his kin.

Damn all the Dark Gods, thought Kellis. Looking over his friend, Kellis noted the big black's right horn was cracked at the tip. Blast it, he muttered to himself. Had he noticed it earlier he would have made sure Slate went and actually saw the Healer this time even for something so minor. "Will you at least let me take a file to that horn of yours? It really is quite a distraction." He lowered the visor of his massive helm to conceal his smirk. "Throws off our angles as well!" His voice was metallic and hollow behind the Silversteel helm darkened pitch black designating his rank of Commander.

"You worry too much, even for a Man," chided Slate. "Now, are you buckled in, or am I going to have to catch you once again?"

A purring vibration denoting the Dragon's subtle laughter shook Vöhl in his seat, making it difficult to buckle his waist strap. "Sure, laugh at the one without wings up high as the cosmos." Finally, he pushed the prong into the hole and stowed the thick leather slack. Next, he locked the soles of his armored boots into the steering posts on either side of him, giving him the feel of being on horseback. He pulled the stubby lever near the horn of his saddle, allowing it to spin freely. Using his momentum, he spun himself in a full circle, locking the saddle back into the forward position. The saddle also locked in the left, rear, and right positions when needed. The whole ensemble allowed him to use his wyrmbow, and his great two-hander, Fury, with ease. The massive wyrmbow affixed to the saddle in front of him. The spear sized arrows were locked down in scabbards on his left and right. Fury was nestled on his back as always. All of this, including his black riding armor, was magically crafted by a Dwarven smith using the Dragonforge deep in their fortress hidden away in the Scar.

"If you're done playing up there, we must meet up with the others," Slate complained. "My Cousin awaits us."

Kellis rolled his eyes up. "Right. So does the General. Let us not let Smohke and Ladonna get all the glory this day."

"Agreed," Slate said. And with that, he flapped his massive wings, lifting Dragon and rider into the night air.

The cold darkness found the cooling vents in Vöhl's flight armor. Not only did it direct air to help keep him in the saddle, but he loved how it felt on his face and sounded in his ears—not too harsh, and not too loud. It was like a gentle glide through the Tushkar foothills hunting for wild boar.

"There," Kellis said in a calm, stern tone. He needn't shout because of the Dragon's keen sense of hearing. "Low left."

"Moving into formation," said Slate. His voice carrying back in the wind.

The "V" formation below them was nine Dragons strong. Smohke, the old red, was in the lead with a blue and a gold on either side of him. Behind them was a silver, a green, and an albino on the right flank. On the left was another black, a green and a rare spotted brown.

Slate knew the brown as Hollis. He did not recognize any of the other Wyrms. So many dead, he thought. Where do they keep finding the new blood?

Kellis used his foot pedals to direct Slate next to Ladonna.

Like always, the black Dragon humored the Man and followed the guidance, gliding in next to Smohke.

"Late as usual, aye cousin?" said the lead red. I'm surprised Lord Vöhl is even sober."

"Oh, you know him, Smohke," said Slate, "and judging by the wine on his breath I don't think he's completely sober."

Hearing this, Ladonna's black helm turned to Kellis, her bright red hair streaked behind her like the tail of a comet. She shook her head back and forth in feign disappointment. She had warned him in the past about drinking before battle.

"Do not worry, my love," Kellis shouted. "The Dragon provokes me as always." With that, he signaled a barrel roll and Slate obeyed spinning a full rotation, further disrupting the air drag of their "V" formation.

Ignoring the complaints behind her, Ladonna smiled and remembered this was why she loved him so. She smiled behind her visor. She wanted to tell him yet again, but it was time for battle, not love.

"Demon swarm!" Corelius, the Kowluun Elf astride the shimmering gold She-dragon, Araness, pointed with his long, wavy sword.

In the massive swarm of Demons attacking the great city of Athelia, Kellis saw the largest being he'd seen in his thirty three years. This one was the twice the size of Athelia's grand white castle. Its dark, hairy form walked on two legs and its fists broke apart the castle walls like they were building blocks. Its stunted head bore ram-shaped horns and it had jagged black spires for teeth.

Kellis's jaw dropped. "Is that..."

"Yes," said Ladonna, "It's Bazzyk. Finally!" She cranked the gear set of her wyrmbow, drawing the wire back into firing position. She slammed a massive spear onto the aiming cradle all in one fluid motion. "The Demon Lord is mine! The rest of you, engage the surrounding Demons and may the gods keep us safe!"

"We'll keep them off you," said Kellis. "For the light!"

"For the light!" a chorus of battle cries rang out.

The flying "V" dove in for the attack, leading first with launched spears from their wyrmbows. The razor sharp heads of Silversteel ripped through many Demons at once, passing through several until they finally struck the earth covered in black Demon blood. This volley was followed up by flame. The Dragons shot forth their fiery breath, lighting up the dark sky and engulfing more of the enemy. It was hell fire from the heavens above.

Kellis Vöhl cranked and fired his wyrmbow over and over again until he was finally out of spears. In the midst of battle, all fighting seemed to cease and witness the spectacle before them.

Smohke had his claws deep into Bazzyk's chest, fire spewed from his fanged maw burning a hole through the Demon lord's body until it finally burst through the far side. Bazzyk's horned head twitched in agony, clawing at his attacker. Finally, the Demon lord grabbed hold of Smohke and Ladonna along with him. As he fell to the earth in his final moment, Bazzyk tore the Dragon's long neck from its body. The lifeless wyrm went limp. Demon, Dragon and rider fell from the dark sky like so many before them.

Kellis signaled to Slate. "Go!" The Dragon was already moving. He flapped his wings, then tucked them to dive even faster. With his neck extended, he looked like a dark arrow shot from the cosmos. Slate managed to grasp his cousin's flailing tail, but he was so heavy, so...heavy. The ground was there far too fast.

The red Dragon crashed first followed by the black. Kellis and his love, Ladonna, perished together on impact.

Slate rose from the rubble a moment later, his saddle flown hundreds of feet away with Kellis still attached. "No!" screamed the Dragon. He tried to spread his wings, but they were both broken on impact. Instead, he went to work on the few remaining Demons, preferring to destroy them with his claws and fangs.

Corelius and Araness, the lone surviving members of Ladonna's attack wing, tried to calm Slate, but it was pointless. The Dragon rage had hold of him. Slate slashed Bazzyk's corpse limb from limb, finally burning it to char in the end.

Only then did the big black collapse from exhaustion and tears. After all this time, Slate learned in that moment that Kellis Vöhl wasn't just a Man, he was a brother.