Flame and Fear

You run with all possible speed as the shadow creeps over you, growing thicker and darker. Your limbs are coursing with pain and feel like they will explode. You trip over a stone and the hand crashes down on you. You throw the "girl"'s body out of the way, hoping that she won't dash against the rock. You realize that you failed, yet again. Your whole life has been one long series of failures. You were the third son of your father, the Duke of Collins, with no chance of ascending to the throne. You tried to make something of yourself by becoming a Dragonslayer, but that only showed you more how much of a failure you were. The other Dragonslayers were handsome and charismatic, while you were awkward and clumsy. The only one who treated you like an actual human being was Lord Fred. So, of course, you had to mess up and kill him. Then, when you looked for Velus and Astra, you couldn't find them and found others instead. Now, you are going to die.

You realize that you are lost in thought and the hand is closing in on you. But you have no hope of escape. This is how you are going to die. You look over to the golden-haired "girl" in the distance, seeming like a light in the darkness. "Lyra..." you groan, trying to say... What? Are you trying to explain why you failed? The fire touches your skin and your very soul burns in agony. The explanation is that you are a failure in every possible way. Well, this sucks, you think as you finally black out.

POV 3: Zerm II

You groan in exaggerated despair as your magical alarm breaks into your sleep. As you drag yourself awake, you wish you had never invented the thing. You are going to go to the Black Spire to speak with the Orcen commander, and then make your coffee. The Orcs, Kobolds, Kurgen, and Drakkani do everything else for you. But you make your own coffee, because none of them are nearly skilled enough. You wish you had had better minions to work with. All you have for company now was a horde of mangy minions and a half- feral Dragon under your control, which everyone else falsely believes to be the supreme power in these caves. It chafes your pride, but it is necessary. After all, you are too physically weak to command the Orcs here on your own. You have magic power, but the Orcs only respect brute strength and steel. You could not strike fear into their hearts. But a dragon could.

You suddenly realize that this is not the alarm whose function is to wake you, but the warning alarm. You leap to your feet, prepared for anything. Into your room bursts a revolting-smelling Orc centurion. It often seems like the leaders are the worst-smelling of them all. "Something happen in Black Spire!" it grunts. "Great big roaring flame thing grab girl and dog!

Great big roaring flame thing? What could he possibly mean? The thought makes you shudder. The Southern Caves are deep and extensive, and you do not control all of them. Many dark powers lurk there which frighten even you. But the area around the Black Spire, the nexus of his power, was fully under his control. It would be a shame if you lost those specimens, though. The experiment interests you greatly, as does the woman, the most lovely to enter your caves since that Aqualarian redhead who had fled when her lover died. You are not like your father, who was so consumed by his pursuits that he eschewed the more... enjoyable pursuits of life. He hadn't even concieved you naturally--although he always thought of you as his son, you are his magically-created--what was his term-- "clone."

You always hated your father more than anything in the world. Still, he left you some useful things. Or rather, you looted them from his fortress once you killed him. One of these was a rare palantiri seeing-stone, which you use to keep track of events in the vast tracts of the Southern Caves which are under your control. You place your hands on the stone, clear your mind, and concentrate on the Black Spire. And, for a moment, you are mute with horror.

1. POV 1

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