Aetherian(Part 1): A War Begins

Trevor

What did I do to deserve this? Trevor asked himself, as he barely dodged the blake flames from the dracolich before he reached the third tunnel on the path that ran along the walls of the cave. There was no doubt that the massive undead was now fully aware of his presence, which would make getting down to the fortress a lot harder. It was hard enough without the undead drake flying in circles around the island castle. Trevor constantly felt the darkness of the dracolich coming straight for him, then quickly retreating as he crept to the end of the tunnel. He was terrified to peek out from the tunnel. Especially when he felt the beast flying straight at him again. He jerked his head back, and the ground shook. Trevor could feel the undead monster's immense darkness right on top of him, and he heard a faint snarl.

"Come on," he whispered. "Go away." Instead, a giant, clawed foot slammed on the path just outside of the tunnel. The front paw of the dracolich had much of its flesh and black scales rotted off, showing its thick bones. Another growl came from between the monster's teeth as its head looked into the tunnel, with both of its eyes glowing red. The dracolich didn't seem to notice him at first against the dark tunnel, but when the beast's head turned its rotted snout to look at him, there was no question that it had seen him.

Well, that's that, Trevor thought to himself, then he ignited his lightsword, and stabbed the dracolich on the end of the snout. The beast threw its head back, screeching as it seemed to fall from the cliff, then flapped its wings back into flight. It was now or never. The next tunnel was only fifty feet away. Trevor ran across the face of the cliff as the dracolich raised itself over the path. He reached the tunnel, then turned around, putting both of his hands out in front of him. A magical barrier called a ward was projected at the mouth of the tunnel as the dracolich spewed forth a blast of black fire from between its jaws. Trevor could feel his ward weakening against the dark flames, so he balled one of his hands into a fist and surrounded it with a bright, golden light. He held his ward up with just one of his hands and made a punch at it with his golden one. The blast sent the black fire that was hitting his ward straight back at the dracolich, and the undead's fire ceased.

"Are you gone?" said Trevor, walking out from the tunnel. The dracolich wasn't there, and its immense aura of darkness was gone with it. He didn't expect black fire to kill a creature of darkness, but he remembered that the dracolich was an undead, not a demon and that black fire was still fire, the worst nightmare of any undead creature. Arriving at the portcullis within ten minutes, he put away his lightsword. As Trevor expected, there was another blood lock waiting for him. He took off his gauntlet and jerked his hand across the sharp stone, and as his blood dripped down the rock's pillar, the entire cavern began to tremble. Trevor healed his hand as a stone bridge raised from the water and stretched from the shore of the lake, and all the way to the fortress. As he crossed the bridge, the first, stronger aura of darkness grew stronger and stronger. The stone, arched gates of the fortress made Trevor feel like an ant up against them, and there was no blood lock, so he had no idea how he would get inside, other than cutting through them with his lightsword. When he ignited his blade and took a swing at the gates, the weapon bounced off. It must have been made of glass malakyte.

"Damn it," Trevor whispered, putting away his lightsword. He looked around the gates for something to climb on or break down. There was a massive sculpture of a dragon on either side of the gate. Maybe he could climb on one of the dragons' legs, then its jaws, then its horns, and climb over the fortress walls, but they were so enormous that a sixty-foot dragon looked like a mouse next to them. Still, Trevor had no choice.

"Okay," he muttered, then he jumped and tightly gripped one of the dragons' front legs, and began to clamber up. The sculptures were made from rough granite, which made it easy for Trevor to grab onto certain spots with his armor-plated fingers and pull himself up. When he pulled himself onto the crook between the dragon's leg, he rested for a bit to give his arms and fingers a break, then he climbed onto the dragon's back. Trevor had to climb all the way up the dragon's long neck to sit on its head, where he got a good look at the fortress his ancestors built. It was massive, with three different giant forts and almost a dozen towers in between them with a catapult on each one. The immense aura of darkness that Trevor felt was either right at the center of the fortress or under it. He flashed a blue light around himself, then appeared on the fortress walls, which must have been wide enough for six huge tanks to roll on at once. There was a spiraled stairway that climbed the side of the wall, so he wouldn't have to do any more climbing, but it was so tall that by the time he arrived at the bottom, his legs ached.

Oh, give me a break, he thought to himself. Trevor rested for a few minutes, then he began to make his way to the center of the fortress, with the aura of darkness growing stronger with every step he took. He eventually arrived there, between the three huge storehouses. A round field of grass was kept green under the light of the radiant malakyte crystals that dotted the ceiling of the cavern. The darkness beneath the fortress was right under Trevor's feet in the center of the field, but he couldn't figure out how to get down there. Suddenly, the ground began to shake, and the grass he stood on began to sink. Trevor screamed as the ground under him collapsed, then the rest of the ground gave way. He managed to land on his feet when he touched a ground of solid rock, in an underground chamber of stone.

"Woah," he mumbled. The chamber had a door on either side, with a sculpture of a dragon rearing on its hind legs and spreading its wings standing in front of either one. The darkness he felt was coming from the one on the left side from where he landed, so the other one must have been his way back to the surface. In front of the door with the darkness behind it was another blood lock. Trevor jerked his hand across the sharp edge of the rock, and healed it while his blood dripped down the short pillar. The door opened to reveal a small space that had a sword sitting on a pedestal. Trevor recognized the sword. It had a black blade, with barbs on the edges that made serrations, and a black crystal of dark malakyte on the end of the pommel. On the guard was an engraving of a sabre-toothed cat, the sigil of House Lysander. The sword was called Nightbringer, the forbidden ancestral sword of House Lysander. Forbidden because the weapon was more of a talisman of evil than a sword, for the very blade carried the Abyss with it. The darkness that surrounded it was more powerful than anything Trevor had sensed in his entire life, and it even scared him a little. He was afraid to touch it, but he had to bring it back to Commander Vestarr and Archmagi Warwick. He placed it in his inventory cube instead of carrying it. As he went to the other side of the chamber, the ground suddenly trembled. The two statues of the dragons both slowly lowered their heads as Trevor reached the center of the chamber, carrying a burning, radiant aura with them. He ignited his lightsword as one of them began to speak in a deep voice.

"We have awaited you, young Karvine," the dragon said, speaking in Draconic, which every member of House Karvine was fluent in.

"Have you, now?" Trevor replied in Draconic.

"Of course we have. The Dragon Kings of old are always welcome down here."

"You could have told the dracolich that."

"You have taken Nightbringer from its resting place, Your Grace," said the dragon. "Why do you think it has awoken after ten thousand years of dormancy?"

"Dormancy?" asked Trevor.

"It is the same reason that your elder sister is gathering her forces to march on this country as we speak."

"I only had one sister," Trevor corrected. "A twin, and she's dead."

"Did you?" said the dragon. "You do not know, do you?"

"Know what?" Trevor demanded.

"There are three surviving Karvines in the world, Your Grace." the dragon answered. "Including you."

"Stop calling me 'Your Grace'," said Trevor. "I'm no King."

"Even so, you must find your kin in order to face the darkness that is to come."

"What darkness?" asked Trevor, but in his heart, he knew. The Lysanders used a sword of darkness in the Dragon War and betrayed Gunnar Karvine, its lord riding on Kidar, the Dragon of the Abyss.