Epilogue

Power was the only thing on Riakon’s mind as he stomped through the ashes of the gremlins. He could feel the power throbbing in his brand. The voice urged him on to do more, to unleash more, to tap into more power.

He tried to push the voice away. It was fine he thought, He had only used the power once. That didn’t mean Tiamat had any power over him.

Once outside the house he saw the road was lousy with gremlins. Many had followed Roden around the corner past the treehouse. Riakon could see Roden was better built for this fight than he was. Riakon saw the gremlins turn their attention toward the treehouse. Grok was still in there. He hefted his hammer and charged down the road splattering any gremlin that got in his way. He had settled on saving his magic for his Faith Shield as he was already obliterating the gremlins with his unenhanced hammer blows.

When he reached the treehouse the mob was ripping at the trunk. He saw them all clustered together and the voice hissed through his mind, “Do it! Show them your power! Show them you are the son of the Queen of Dragons!”

He felt the power inside of him pulse with expectation like it was begging to be released. Riakon shook his head and charged the swarm, No! He only used that power to save that family!

The fight amidst the swarm was messy. He couldn’t get any wind up with his hammer. He had to settle for gripping it just below the head and smashing it into faces and skulls. He wasn’t making the kind of headway he expected.

Once enough of the gremlins realized he was in their midst they started jumping onto him, which slowed him down. Their teeth bit into him, blood started running down his chest, staining his shirt. His blood dripped down his arms and made his hands slick.

One gremlin leapt onto his back and was biting at his face. Before he could do anything to halt it, he felt something slam into the gremlin. Whatever it was bought him enough time to raise his head up and take a breath. He saw a furry winged figure ripping into the gremlin it had pinned to the ground. It must have felt his eyes or heard him because it turned its head around to look at him.

Riakon saw Grok, his mouth covered in that sickly dark gremlin blood. Grok’s eyes were blazing a bright orange-ish color full of intensity, but when he saw Riakon his mouth split into a toothy grin.

Riakon was stunned and proud all at once. His moment of hesitation cost him dearly. The gremlins were piling on him now. The last thing he saw before he lost his balance was two gremlins tackle Grok in a tumble of fur and teeth.

“I can give you the power to save him! Use it!” the voice hissed.

It was the thought of Grok being hurt that drove Riakon to call upon that power within himself. From within the heap of gremlins Riakon released a cloud of poisonous gas. He felt a surge of power rush through him at its release. He grunted and pressed the suffocating gremlins off of him.

Riakon burst from the cloud with a roar fit for war. He found the gremlins attacking Grok. One was already dead, a gaping hole in its neck. The other was circling Grok with its small knife. It didn’t see Riakon’s hammer coming.

“Grok! Get back to the treehouse!”

The garg’s smile at seeing Riakon drooped and his ear dropped.

“Ugggghhhhh fine, you can help me, but stay close…And great job saving me back there.”

The garg flapped his wings in delight and nodded. Together they drove into the flood of gremlins pouring onto the road. The fight was dirty and when it would look hopeless or that they were going to be overrun, Riakon would tap into that power once again and unleash it on the horde.

With each breath used the power within him would throb and pulse. He felt himself getting fatigued, but his strength was as potent as ever. At one point the blood on his hands caused his hammer to slip from his grasp and he was forced to resort to using just his fists.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

“Ahhhhhhh!” The voice roared in his mind, “Be the dragon you are!”

He felt a power course through his brand, the body glowed with a dark purple light that rippled up his arms. The scales on his hands grew more prominent, his fingers and nails grew more claw-like than ever before. He tore out throats with swipes of his new claws. His hammer all, but forgotten in the melee.

He had no way of knowing how long the battle raged on for, but it seemed like forever. When they were nearing the last of their strength and the gremlins were looking fewer and fewer. Riakon and Grok had found a group of townsfolk had barricaded themselves in a small shed. The shed was surrounded and wasn’t holding up well to the gremlins' assault. When Riakon stepped into their view they rushed them.

He was so tired, even Grok looked up at him with an uneasy look. He needed no urging, he knew what he needed to do. He gave himself over to the power in his core and let it loose upon the world. The arc of lightning that screamed down the road nearly vaporized the gremlins it touched. With the last power used he felt empty. He felt hollow in a way that he hadn’t felt since before Errrkkkk came into his life.

He hadn’t realized just how comforting that power inside of him had been. He felt nothing, but despair and crushing sadness at having lost that piece of himself. The voice came back to him like a lifeline in the depths of his darkness, “Good I am proud of you my son, but we can do so much more together…I have done all that I can for now…The power I left you is nearly gone…Reach out and we can do so much more…” The voice trailed off, once again leaving him cold and alone.

Riakon and Grok with the help of the town’s militia and the rest of his group drove the gremlins back to the edge of town. Roden came up with his plan of taking out the gremlin shaman as he was the best suited and really the only one with anything left to give. Riakon had nothing left, standing was all he could really do. Even his claws had reverted back to hands, the power he had always felt from his brand was gone. He was long since out of magic. Riakon had never felt so helpless in his life.

He watched as Roden charged toward the gremlins. He saw him bound over the frontline and dropped his fireball. The eruption was incredible, and would’ve been a decisive blow to the gremlins on its own.

Yet he followed it up with another fiery explosion that rocked the very ground he stood on. The third explosion was unexpected and sent Roden flying. Him and Errrkkkk had shared a glance of worry for their friend, but they could see his ability had kicked in and saved him from his wounds.

Errrkkkk had flown in anyway to finish driving off any gremlins that lingered. Grok and Riakon followed, but were significantly slower. Riakon felt like he could barely move despite not having any major wounds. He had saved his Faith Healing as much as he could in case there were any townspeople who needed it.

Once it was clear the gremlins were gone they had set to helping clean up the town. Riakon wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and sleep for a week. The militia had already gathered the grievously wounded in the market just in case their adventurer saviors could do anything for them. Many were excited to hear their friends might be saved by the Dragonkin.

By the time Riakon had dragged himself over to the market the weight of everything was too much to bear. His vision of his performance was clouded heavily by his feelings of powerlessness.

His thoughts were tainted by his inability to do what the others could. He grew angry and resentful of his Goddess and Basmu. He stalked down the main road of the market to the cul de sac where the bodies were laid out seething.

His thoughts were dominated by feelings of betrayal. He felt betrayed by his teachers. He felt betrayed by those who urged him to follow the light and it would give him answers. The light had done nothing for him here. The pitiful power it gave him did nothing, but make him a punching bag.

By the time he stood over the bodies of the villagers he was only thinking dark thoughts. He saw the five of them laid out as parallel lines. He didn’t care about these people. They didn’t care about him. Why should he help them? They wouldn’t help him if he needed it.

The sight of the five laying there still, and unconscious, brought an image to mind. His ears were deaf to their whimpers of pain as he moved them into position. He drew the tome out of his dimensional back and flipped to the diagram in question.

The words on the page were no longer illegible. He read them as clearly as if they were in English. It was a communion ritual to the Queen of Dragons. He saw for the first time the ritual called for a sacrifice.

That was fine, he had five right there, five sacrifices who could finally do something for him. He walked over to the first sacrifice. He gripped its throat and tore. Its blood immediately pooled at his feet. He walked from one sacrifice to the next ripping throat after throat until he had the five pools he needed.

He stepped back to his place at the conflux of his sacrifices and raised his hands to the sky and spoke the draconic words. He saw the pools of blood were drawn toward him. When they were at his feet he recognized the symbol they made on the ground was the same as the one on his shoulder. As the pool of sacrificial blood touched his feet he felt a massive surge of power.

The voice returned louder than ever, “YESSSSSS! MY SON! MORE more! I can give you unlimited POWER!”

The blood touched his scales and turned them a dark red, deeper than any dragon he had ever heard of or seen. It worked its way up his body first his legs then his chest and down his arms. Just as it reached his neck there was a flash and a thunderous boom.

He was knocked from his feet and landed hard into the dirt. When he regained some semblance of where he was, he saw his ritual had been destroyed. The bodies were nowhere to be seen. His scales were back to their usual platinum color and showed no sign of the blood that once covered him.

The realization of what he had just done crashed into him like a tsunami. He had killed those people…

In the moment, they had just been sacrifices. Greatly needed sacrifices that he deserved, but now he saw things clearly. Something had corrupted his mind, he hadn’t been thinking clearly. That despair he felt was gone. He couldn’t understand what was happening or what had happened for that matter.

He sat up and looked around to see what was left of his shameful act. Everything seemed to be as he had remembered it. He looked out toward the coast. That was when he saw a figure in the dark slowly walking in his direction. His palms began to sweat. He started to panic. How was he going to explain this? He thought maybe he would have to fight, but when he reached for his magic, it was gone.

Gone in the sense that it wasn’t there at all. He knew in his core it wouldn’t be coming back either. He had broken Era’s values and betrayed the ethics of her church. He had broken his oath and she had taken her power back. He was cut off from the divine and he knew it.

He hung his head in shame. The figure approached him as he sat, head down. A familiar voice cut through his myriad of thoughts.

“Brother, what did you do, cacaw?”

THE END