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Five Dragons: DLvP: Chapter 23: The Shadow Moves


Roland opened his eyes and found himself in the middle of the dark. A dim beam of light fell on him. But it was unable to illuminate the darkness in any way. Standing alone in the void, he heard the deep hum of long breathing noises, which crept slowly closer to him. A cold shiver ran down his back when he was seized by this strong sigh.

With a loud crackle, five flames came to life and blazed brightly in the silver bowls, which were placed symmetrically around a stone base. The faint glow of the fire fell over a large mosaic pattern. Arranged in the shape of a dragon. Roland stood in front of the dragon image and recognized the dark room.

He looked up thoughtfully at the beam of light, which flickered briefly at that moment. A weak shake also moved through the floor. The light began to dim more and more until it finally disappeared. Only the small flames of the silver bowls gave some light.

He looked around the room, slightly confused, and took a step towards the image when the floor suddenly shook again. With his arms outstretched, Roland had hard difficult to keep his balance. The fire in the bowls shrank and only glowed weakly now. Long cracks formed in the walls and individual pieces began to break out.

A gloomy, red glow penetrated through the already made holes, and blinded Roland with the threatening glimmer. A sound passed him as if the cracks were taking a deep breath.

The ramshackle wall pieces blew themselves out with a deafening hiss and a blinding light flooded the room. Roland put his hand protectively over his face. The bright light felt like it was burning on his skin. The stinging pain subsided with the loud echo and he carefully glanced into the wide gap.

In the bright glow he saw the outline of six shadows. Four of them stood silent behind the crumbling wall. One hovered above them in the middle, while the last shivered toward Roland. A white glow stood out from the black faces that glowered at the fellow. A strange symbol shone in front of the floating shadow and the five signs of the guardiandragons circled around it.

The smallest figure was moving toward him with a low gasp, and drew a sword behind it, limping. The tip of the blade scraped quietly across the floor. The closer she got, the better he could see the shady face.

The daintily person wore a tattered dress that had lost everything of its former splendor. Dim, yellow lights shone from the empty eye sockets and an unnatural breathing accompanied her steps. The long, disheveled hair was smeared with dried blood, and the light blue color of her torn clothes gave way to the dark tone of the coagulated life liquid.

Roland raised a hand skeptically in the glare to see the figure's face better. “Roland.” gasped the limping person. She exhaled heavily and raised her hand in his direction.
At that moment, Roland snapped a picture from the past into his eyes: he saw his mother lying on the floor. The sad look that met him, when she pushed him into the darkness with that outstretched arm. The picture suddenly went back to the unnatural figure.

It was Claire, his mother.

The decayed woman continued to approach her son. Roland stopped in shock. “You have abandoned me!” Her empty voice gasped across the room. “That can't be true!” He said aloud to himself, shaking his head negatively. “THAT IS NOT YOU!!” he shouted at the undead, who was still approaching menacingly. “You let me die!” Her words scratched his mind again. Roland's will faded and he slumped to his knees with watery eyes. “But I couldn't do anything, I ... I was just ... I didn't want to!” He whimpered, depressed.

He felt her bony hand on his shoulder and raised his eyes shortly thereafter. In the glare of light he saw his mother's image when he was little. She smiled at him with her warm look, as only she could. “It's okay.” Her gentle words sounded. “His shadow will haunt you all!” her deafening voice hissed across the room. At the same time, the illusion of her image tore off and Roland saw with his eyes wide a black blade approaching. She stabbed the dark metal under his ribs up to his heart and violet runes began to glow on the weapon.

With the pain in his body, he gasped weakly and looked into her dim, shimmering yellow eyes. She pulled him closer to her rotting face. “All of you will be witnesses to his ascension.” She gasped before pushing him backwards. The shadow blurred more and more as his eyes grew dimmer.

The light disappeared completely into the emptiness and he only felt, how he fell down.

Always deeper …

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The sun already threw the first rays over the horizon and heralded the start of a new day. The golden shimmer fell through wide windows into the room and flooded the room with its warm light. The bright glow that reached the bed burned through the clear glass. Inside was a young man with an orange-red dragoness in his arms. This slept peacefully cooing and snuggled close to him.

Roland was cramping. His eyes still closed, he put a hand on his chest and trembled tightly, accompanied by hectic breathing. With his jerky movements he finally roused Kyndle from her sleep, who immediately bowed her head in surprise. With a protesting “Meep”, she pushed him lightly in the side, but immediately noticed how he did not react to it. She opened her eyes to see her trembling partner.

Startled, Kyndle turned suddenly, put both forelegs on his shoulders and held him on the mattress. Panting weakly, he opened his eyes. Kyndle nestled her head comfortingly against his face, but backed away in alarm. Roland felt ice cold. With strong pressure, she pressed him into the fabric and unsuccessfully sought visual contact. Her sapphire blue eyes could not find the spark in his cloudy look. It seemed like he was looking through her, as if she wasn't there. In panic she felt his emotional connection wane.

With a coo, she closed her watery eyes and gently put her forehead on his and a deep grumble came from her humming body. Kyndle tried desperately to make contact with him. With all her strength, she finally found an access to this darkness and struggled through his ongoing nightmare. Desperate to find his spark and hoping he wasn't lost.

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As a silent witness, she looked at the dream again: she saw Roland standing in the chamber, the flickering light and the glowing red crack. Six shadows, five with white eyes and one that approached her partner. Kyndle looked skeptically at the circling symbols in front of the floating shadow.

Roland called out a few words to the figure and then fell to his knees in exhaustion. Looking up, the shadow stabbed a black blade into his heart and threw him back into the dark.

With a widened look, Kyndle ran through the smoky picture and jumped after Roland.

He lay on the ground deep in the void. The orange-red dragoness sniffed his body quickly, but there was no response from him. He stared lifelessly into the darkness as if she were not here. The dark blade protruded from his chest with purple runes on it. A somber whisper echoed from the dark signs.

She carefully approached the cursed weapon. It seemed to her that she could hear voices in the black metal. Dark words of a foreign language. With a deep growl in her throat, she gripped the handle of the weapon with her jaw and pulled hard on it.

The runes on the blade immediately shimmered more vigorously, as did the echoes, which became uncomfortably loud, and she felt how the dark steel sucked out her willpower. The harder she pulled, the more it robbed more of her strength.

But her will was stronger than the bound magic in the weapon. The blade came out of Roland's body and Kyndle threw it far up. Shortly thereafter, she released a scorching burst of flame from her throat and encased the dark sword.

The weapon dissolved in a dark green fire and before it completely disappeared, it seemed like she was staring at a face. With a sinister laugh, the flames smoked and the evil echo stopped in the void.

With the threat removed, she turned back to Roland. Examining his open eyes, she spotted his waking spark. With a relieved coo she lay down next to him and pulled his body protectively against hers. A deep grumble came from her throat. She put her forehead on his and tried to wake up with him.

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The dragoness felt his breathing calm, as did his cramped posture. She slowly opened her eyes and tried to make eye contact again. The thick veil in his eyes lifted quickly and he found himself in the bright glow of two beautiful dragon eyes. The glowing turquoise breath in them was reflected in his, accompanied by a radiant spark.

He had returned to her.

She lay down on his body with a relieved purr and lovingly licked his cheek. He smiled warmly at her and lost himself completely in her eyes. He placed a hand on her head and gently brushed the tears from her face. Her eyelids happily closed, she approached him with her head held at an angle. Roland closed his eyes too and the next moment, their lips melted passionately in a kiss. He felt her gentle purr clearly in his body.

After the loving touch, he closed his arms around her and looked at her with a smile. “Thank you.” He whispered to her. “I probably wouldn't have found the way back without you.” Kyndle nestled her head against his chest and listened carefully to his heartbeat. Purring softly, she enjoyed the warm body contact. “Roland ...” Her soft voice echoed through his mind. Smiling, he hugged her more, enjoying the warm sound of her echo. It was a very pleasant experience for him to hear her voice now. Even if it was just his name. The dragoness felt his wellbeing and purred softly.

Roland continued to hold her as he wandered back to the dream. The female felt his thoughts and also recalled these dark impressions. What or who had just made him dream of something like that?

“His shadow will haunt you all?” he muttered to himself. “Who did she mean by all? And whose ascension?” Kyndle snuggled closer to him and threw his last thoughts out of his head. He closed his eyes and continued to enjoy their physical closeness.

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A figure with a silver mask in front of his face was wrapped in a red robe in front of a large mirror. The Ironwing estate was visible in the floating image. With a dark giggle, he threw a somber glint from his shimmering purple eye sockets at the picture. “All of you!” He gasped, accompanied by a malicious laugh.

“My Lord Kargesh?” A slightly shaky voice came from behind. “They are here now.” With a soft clearing of the throat, the dark ruler turned and saw four figures in front of him. Three big, dark warriors and in the middle a rather small woman.

“Ahh, Minerva! Or rather, The Princess of the Night?” Kargesh spoke with a rather sarcastic undertone. “You are really not easy to find.” “Hmpf!” The woman replied mockingly and gave him a slightly angry look from her silver eyes. She was wearing a long black dress. She had also colored her fingernails and lips black. With the dark eyeshadow, everything made a strong contrast to her almost white skin. “It must take an important reason to be dragged here by your bloodhounds!” She complained loudly. A low growl came from one of the warriors standing behind her.

Kargesh approached her with soft steps. “Oh, they didn't just bring you here out of sheer favor.” He said calmly. The woman put her hand on her hip with interest as she waved the other one angrily. “And what reason should that be?”

A faint violet glow flashed just behind the mask. “As far as I know, you have special skills in dealing with imprints. Or rather their ligation.” The dark lich began. “And?!” The woman asked impatiently. Kargesh paused for a moment. “I've planned some events and don't want my victim's imprint partner to be harmed.” With his arm outstretched, he aimed his bony index finger at her. “Therefore you will be the one, who solves this problem for me.” With his piercing gaze on her, he stood in front of her in his slightly bent position.

The woman looked at him skeptically. “Prevent an imprint without killing both?” She lowered her silver gaze briefly to the floor and then turned back to Kargesh. “Complicated, but doable.” She confirmed with a nasty grin on her lips. “But what do I get from it?”

No sooner had she asked her question, one of the generals grabbed her from behind. A second drew his two-handed sword and held the black blade to her throat. Kargesh looked up slightly at her. “Very easy. You will survive.” He suggested with a threatening sparkle in his eyes.

The woman panicked her startled look. “If you kill me, you can't disconnect them.” She threw at his feet. A dark giggle came from the lich. “There are other ways, my dear. With your help it would be, well ...” He paused a short moment with a sparkling gaze. “Much more straightforward.” He turned his back on her and took a few steps away. “But if you don't want to ... go on.”

With these words, the general pressed his sword closer to her throat. She felt the quick pain as the dark steel tore open her pale skin. The blood flowed over the blade, waking purple runes on it. “Alright! I’ll do it!” She shouted shakily into the hall. “Just whistle your bastards back!”

“Clever girl.” Kargesh gasped to himself. With the large blade pulled back, the general dropped the woman to the ground like a sack. Minerva struggled to her feet and gripped the wound on her throat, breathing heavily. With the piercing look of her silver eyes, she looked at the man in the red robe. “But I can't take it out of thin air! I need ingredients, formulas and materials.”

Kargesh turned to her. “Always this nagging.” He gasped. Behind the woman, many yellow dots suddenly flashed in the dark. Two dozen skeletons popped out of the shadows, stooping in front of her. Scraps of musty meat hung from their gnawed bones as if they had just died. With the lifeless looks of their empty eyes on the woman, they waited slightly shaky for an order. “Tell them what you need and they'll get it.”

One of the generals took heavy steps behind the witch. She looked skeptically over her shoulder at the tall figure. He towered far above her and a low growl came from the closed visor of his helmet. “Broderick will not leave your side and, when necessary ...” With a sinister glow in his eye sockets, he greedily looked at her. “Remind you of our deal.”

Minerva didn't say a word. She just stared at him with a mixture of anger and gratitude. Shortly afterwards she left the hall more or less voluntarily, followed by Broderick and a group of undead.

The remaining generals looked at their master. “When are we going to strike, Lord Kargesh?” Mustaine gasped, placing his two-handed sword back on his back. The dark ruler raised his hand. “Have a little more patience.” He replied slowly, turning to the mirror. Three glowing soul vessels appeared in the floating surface. “The return of Drover is the next step.” A sinister glow shimmered with a purple glow from the eye sockets of his mask. “And then, it depends on how quickly our princess can work.” A dark giggle accompanied his words, while the images of the soul vessels disappeared again.

With a faint throat clearing, the generals looked at the mirror as a quick white sparkle flashed in their yellow eyes. Kargesh did not notice this short glow.

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Meanwhile in Ironwing ...

Catherine threw her slightly cloudy look out of the window. Daniel and Aaros stood behind her. “Don't worry about it.” The magician said calmly, nodding slightly. “Everything is prepared for this case. I arranged it as you wanted.” The woman lowered her forehead with her eyes closed and leaned her slightly against the window. “And nothing can go wrong?” She asked worried. Aaros looked at her confidently. “I'll put my hand in the fire for that.” He confirmed. She exhaled in relief, placed her hand on the window and looked out again with a damp look.

“Thank you. I just wanted to hear it again.” “Are you so afraid for his safety?” Aaros asked in surprise. The woman breathed heavily, with eyes closed. “It is not his safety that I worry about. It is this shadow that has haunted him from birth.” Aaros raised his forehead attentively. As soon as he took a breath, Cathrine slowly waved her arm aside and signaled both of them to go.

Alone she stayed in the room and let her eyes sweep across the garden. She picked up the pendant on her necklace and closed her fingers tightly around it. “Give me the strength to get through this, Adrian…” She sighed softly.

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In Drakensang there was a tense atmosphere in the king's card room.

“Where are the movements concentrated?” Harkin demanded impatiently, his eyes focused on a spread map. “My king.” One of the men at the table began, pointing his finger at the drawn areas. “Ordenary, Kaladros and Sullfar are reported to be the most affected. But we also receive disturbing news from Thal, Moredhel, Orcus and Athellion.” “Hhmm.” The king thoughtfully held his hand in front of his chin. “What about Tura'an?” He asked hopefully and tapped the map.

“As always, Tura'an gives no answer. Even if they take care of it themselves, we can assume that sightings have also taken place there. But we have to take care of our own borders, Harkin. And don't ask for help, where there is none.” The king grabbed the man roughly by the shoulders and looked at him desperately. “And what do you think I should do, Mardon?” He turned to him, staring straight into his eyes. “How do you think the folks will react, when the first corpse knocks on the city gates?” Mardon looked at his king calmly. He put his hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Every volunteer is called in.” He began confidently. “These soldiers know what they stand for.”

With a depressed sigh, Harkin walked to the window and cast his thoughtful gaze over his country. “You read the reports yourself.” He said softly. “Of course.” The fighter answered with an approving nod. Harkin held his hands behind his back as he continued to look outside. “Will that be enough?”

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In the ‘Iron Maiden’, everyone listened to the exciting story that Roland told. “Oh, did you actually find out what your nightmare was all about?” Tamara threw in between curiously.

He looked thoughtfully at Kyndle and recalled these dark pictures. “No, not really.” He replied, shaking his head and looking back at the landlady. She gave him a warm smile. But then her attention was drawn to the entrance. Four knights entered the tavern together: each of them wore an ornate plate armor with a corresponding helmet. Everyone also had a colored cross on their breastplate. They looked almost identical. Except for the armament, the only difference was the color of the decorations.

The first had a war axe on his belt and orange decorations. The second was colored green and had a fighting staff on his back. Number three entered with a heavy mace in hand. He rested him casually on his shoulder. His armor was adorned with a strong red. The last had a long sword wrapped on his belt and a dark blue color on the armor.

They walked to the counter without words. The red signaled to Tamara with four outstretched fingers the amount of beer she was supposed to bring. Then the four knights sat down and took off their helmets at the same time.

Their faces looked absolutely identical. They were like one egg to the other. With a somewhat grumpy expression on their faces, they watched Tamara set up four large, filled beer mugs. The same color shone in their eyes as on their armor. With a friendly smile, she nodded to the four men. The red one threw a small bag on the table and waved her aside. Without saying a word, the landlady accepted the payment and went back to Roland's table. The knights raised the tankards and bumped them together noisily before they started to empty them.

With a big grin, she sat down to Roland and the group of listeners. “Who are these four guys? I've never seen them here before.” Roland asked curiously. Tamara looked around cheerfully. “They have been coming here for serval days now.” she began to tell. “They don't speak a word when they're here. They just drink a beer together and then go again. Apparently they come from the western continent from the other side of the open water.” The people listened to her attentively. “I think they're doing their mercenary craft here. The guys are supposed to be real legends beyond the sea. They allegedly crashed entire castles on their own and even sank a pirate ship on their crossing over here.” “Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?” A listener interjected. “I'm just telling you what I've heard.” Tamara countered, raising both hands. “I tell you, they rescued princesses from dark dungeons and then beat each other up, because everyone wanted the princess's kiss for himself. In addition …”

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At the same time in a dark place …

“What is it, Minerva?” The frail figure asked, staring restlessly into a large mirror. Four glowing soul vessels floated in the watery surface and a nervous, violet flickering shimmered from the black eye sockets of his silver mask. “This is it.” The witch said in her slightly angry tone.

The necromancer slowly let go of the mirror and turned to Minerva. The woman, dressed in black, held a small urn in her hands and stared at him with a grin. Kargesh looked at her silently for a moment. Behind her, Broderik stepped into the dim light and put down a large sculpture. A skeptical glow shimmered from the necromancer's mask as he looked at it.

The lower part looked like a pyramid, on the top of which was a large crystal ball. The inside of the sphere was half-filled with a clear liquid and a black pearl was buried in it. Slowly his eyes turned to the witch. Minerva had to take a breath when he looked blankly.

She confidently took a step next to the pyramid. Before she could say a word, however, the necromancer held up his hand. He quietly strode to his stone throne, sat down and gestured to her to speak.

With a slightly angry clearing of her throat, she got some air. “I finished it.” She began hesitantly. “Now I just have to cast the spell on one of the two and it's done.” There was a sinister crackle in his eyes as he held his bony fingers together in front of his face. “Unfortunately there is a small catch.” Minerva said again, which resulted in an impatient clearing of the throat from Kargesh. “And what would this be?” He asked, panting.

“As soon as I have marked the target's soul, it must always be close to the sphere.” The witch explained, pointing to the crystal ball on the pyramid. “The shorter the distance, the more the imprint is prevented.” Determiningly, she raised her finger. “It only suppresses the imprint as long as the target's body is close enough.”

The lich looked at the crystal ball for a long time. “Then I think it's time.” He began, panting, when a threatening sparkle shimmered from his mask, “For the last harvest.” As soon as he had said the words, Broderick stepped out of the shadows and nodded to him with one dull growl, his massive battle axe placed over his shoulder. Lots of shadow armors lined up behind him.

The necromancer rose from his throne and held both hands in front of his face. With a dark, purple glow in the black eye sockets, a smoking ball formed between his bony palms. With a weak gasp, he threw it next to Minerva. A smoke wall piled up noisily and showed the image of a piece of forest. A large bald man stepped out of the floating surface and stared intently at the group. With his weak clearing of the throat, a quick, violet sparkle awakened in his eyes and a moment later the red color of his iris came out again. He bowed his head in front of the lich and pulled his right fist up to his left shoulder.

“The Brotherhood unit is still on call.” He announced, lifting his gaze again. “We have set up a camp in the Widow-Forest and are now waiting impatiently for your order.” “Which will be received shortly.” Kargesh gasped and took a few steps towards Broderick. He held his hands apart, palms up. Hissing lightly, green flames ignited in his bony hands and a circle of flames formed on the floor around the general. “You will form the spearhead.” Broderick stood up confidently, put his weapon on the ground in front of him and nodded in confirmation. The green flames blazed more intensely. “No harm should happen to the captain.” The necromancer ordered firmly. “The others are useless flesh.” Broderick lowered his forehead slightly, pulling his right fist up to his left shoulder. Shortly afterwards the circle of flame disappeared and enveloped him in an opaque wall of smoke. The black cloud began to rotate and a quick green flash hissed out from it, right through the ceiling of the high dome. With that, the general was gone.

A dark glow grew in Kargesh's eye sockets and he turned to Minerva, breathing heavily. “Go through the portal with Larzarus and be ready. As soon as the brotherhood has done its part, I want the dragon and Roland here as soon as possible.” With one hand, he pointed to the still open crack in the room. “Hold back until both have arrived.” He added firmly. Without saying another word, the necromancer turned back to the large mirror. With one hand he wiped the picture with the soul vessels. The floating appearance changed and now showed the Ironwing estate.

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Back in the ‘Iron Maiden’ ...

Roland was still talking extensively about his arrival in Parem. The story about the origin of his dragon partner, as well as his training, had found some interested listeners in the well-visited tavern. At least until Tamara started telling mercenary stories. The four knights had already left the bar again, but the landlady couldn't stop talking enthusiastically about them.

“It's all very interesting and so.” Roland interrupted her words. She looked at him somewhat skeptically. “But it's me, who is telling a story here.” He said with a faint grin on his lips. The landlady exhaled slightly disappointed. With one hand she waved to the side as she got up. “Well then, if you say so.” The woman waved condescendingly as she went back to the bar.

“Thank you!” He called after her softly and turned back to his audience. “And now you're a master magician?” A guest asked curiously. Exhaling calmly, Roland held his hands together and slowly waved his face. “Rather not.” He added. “You can learn a lot in four years, but it is not even enough to call myself a master after all.”

“Then you are not finished with the training yet?” The man asked impatiently. Roland raised his hands slightly irritated. “Hey, I never said that.” He looked demanding at the listener and pointed his finger at him. “You wanted to know something about my training and how I came to Kyndle and my medium.”

Behind Roland the orange-red dragoness sat on the floor and gave the intercomer a serious look. The glow of her sapphire blue eyes showed its full effect and made the man cringe a little. “And you have now experienced that too.” Roland added resolutely. The man apologetically raised his hands and lowered his head slightly. “Was not meant like that. I had only assumed that …” “That what?” Roland interrupted.

But a loud rumble silenced the voices. Startled, everyone turned to the now open door.