Gaius Darkspell and The Duel of Fates - Part 2
Sweat beaded on Gaius’ forehead, and he would have wiped it away had he not given his last hanky to Ilium right before her battle with Valkath. He stood there at the precipice of the crater, sweat still beading, angry, exhausted, but determined, his breath coming in gasps that could've been mistaken for a set of bellows with aspirations of becoming an accordion, and he beheld the entrance to the dragon’s lair.
It was an impressive sight. A great iron door, hinged into the mountain, stood gaping at Gaius like a massive maw, threatening to swallow him whole. It towered over him, and he estimated someone five or six times his height could easily walk in without bumping his head, which made sense given that it was the front door to a dragon’s lair. Gaius gawked, something Ilium had admonished him for repeatedly, and when he heard her gentle, if not occasionally searing voice in his head, he clapped his trap shut and shrugged. Despite the fact that he was trembling all over and he thought a little pee might have escaped into his robes, he knew was ready. This was his moment. Fate, as it were, had said as much, and she was never wrong, other than the time that she’d recommended the pimento cheese-stuffed olives. That was a big fat no.
The air crackled with the tension of a high-stakes bingo night as Gaius stepped forward, throwing caution to the wind, but not before remembering where it landed in case he needed it later. And with one glance back at the sun, its pert bottom nearly touching the distant horizon, he entered the dragon's domain.
The decor was a little over the top, which didn’t surprise Gaius a bit. It was mostly mid-century castle with a lot of glitz and flashy bits. Mixed metals were in, but at dragon scale, it was a little much for the average adventurer looking to demo a room or two in the castle and create a cozy entertaining space for friends and subjects alike. Of course, it was unlikely the most dreaded creature in the Four Continents did much entertaining, which Gaius contemplated as he pushed on, passing room after empty room, dark corridor after dark corridor, until he came to a narrow stone staircase. And there on the metal bannister, a note dangled, fixed to the iron by a strip of dragon tape in a bright red.
Gaius reached for it, mainly because of the name on the front of the folded note, and particularly because it was the first time outside of the Particularly Important People gatherings and invitations that he’d seen their particular symbol anywhere. The paper was as weightless as a whisper, which sent ripples of alarm through Gaius. All of their secret notes were as weightless as a whisper. And how did this one have their secret symbol on it? He stared at the singular icon, the simple book etched in black and opened to a page holding nothing but an open eye. How was this here? He’d often joked that having a secret society was only exciting if people knew there was one in the first place — rumors led to legends, which led to legacies, and of course, licensing deals and the chance to have a tavern or sawmill named after you, maybe an undiscovered river or cow pasture.
That symbol here meant something certainly. Or was it just Fate, as it were, making sure he’d got good directions to the final battle?
And next to the symbol, which looked to have been etched rather carefully in black pen, was his name — or rather not his name, but the name he’d earned within the society of Particularly Important Persons. How could Valkath the Inferno know that many of the society members, except for Fate, as it were, called him “Gaius Darksmell”? He stared at the name, remembering the first time Bane had called him that, and everyone had laughed. The sudden blush, a trickle of fear lighting his senses on fire, and then when Axor clapped him on the back and Ilium leaned in and kissed his neck, breathing the words that launched a thousand ships, “My little stinker,” he’d let the loudest fart ever rip and stood back and laughed with them as everyone scattered. It wasn’t his fault the Dragon’s Breath Chili Bites were both his favorite appetizer and gave him mad gas.
“How could he?” he stammered. “How does he?” Was this a prank? He spun around, his eyes scanning the solemn room, eyeing the mid-century castle decor, casting accusing glances at the dark corners of the room. Surely this was being recorded by a tele-vision spell or some magical device that could record the goings-on in this room. Even now, he was sure, Valkath the Inferno was sitting up in his nest of heaped gold and silver laughing great dragon laughs and snacking on popcorn he’d simply breathed into existence. A joke. A prank. Something to throw him off his game.
Well, that wouldn’t do, and that wouldn’t work. Gaius wasn’t the greatest wizard in the world, and no silly fire lizard was going to lounge about and eat snacks while laughing at reruns of Gaius Darksmell, er Darkspell staring blankly at a note. And that was the moment it dawned on him — he hadn’t read the note.
He tore the tape away, and unfurled the dainty parchment, careful not to tear it, yet brimming with anger. His fingers trembled as he read the words laid with care there. “Up the stairs to the right, loser.”
The parchment fluttered to the ground like so many feathers, torn into shreds, as the greatest wizard that ever lived, the Chosen One, stomped up the steps two at a time, his eyes burning with murder and mayhem, one for each eye.
The steps wound to the right, ever upwards, climbing higher and higher and higher, washing the anger out of Gaius’ eyes, the murder and mayhem out of his system, and finally, depositing him winded and hacking up a cough into his discolored sleeve onto a flat platform, empty save a door. Gaius didn’t hesitate to go through, although he did take a moment as he stood there, hunched over, huffing and puffing, his mind whirling through a range of thoughts, emotions crashing against each other like those late night mosh pits from his early years. But this was the moment he’d been waiting for, destined for, fated, as it were, and the moment he caught his breath, he was through the door.
A cool breeze hit Gaius in the face as he stepped out onto the broad arcing rim of the crater with the fiery sunset stretching out in every direction above and the burning shadow of the volcano’s caldera stretching out below. A hint of smoke lingered on the breeze and the call of a noble bird pierced the silence in the distance. But nothing could distract Gaius Darkspell from the massive form that stood perched like a great statue on the opposite side of the crater, its long neck swinging around as the door opened, wings unfurled like sails on the open sea. It was a thing of nightmares, and it was Gaius’ greatest foe.
