The Crystal Dragon

If Sweet Tongue was scared, then there was every sign that Malik should share the fear. On the second ground shaking rattle, Malik felt the fear bubble inside him. He had very little left to live for, but he still did not want to die. He looked toward Mollie, trying to find the will to fight free. They could still make it to the entrance and get away. In the mountains there may even be a way to hide and escape from Sweet Tongue’s crew of mercenaries. 

Sweet Tongue pulled Mollie’s father’s sword from his back. He had been wearing it since their capture, but it never grew bright inside his hands. It still was a formidable sword, being the size of an average grown man and light as a stick. Sweet Tongue started a chain, as the other mercenaries and Zimbre pulled their weapons from their resting places. They planned to fight the dragon or whatever headed toward them. They would most likely die if the creature was as big as it sounded. Then Malik and the others would be the dessert after the main course of mercenaries. 

Sweet Tongue stepped away from the barred door he had tried to pry open moments before. Whatever was behind the grate had been there for a reason. Malik did not hear the roar again before small pebbles fell from the ceiling. The first to hit him was small, the size of a pea, and bounced off his shoulder. The others looked up, feeling the small shower of pebbles. The next rock was much larger and came down, crashing into one of the mercenary’s backs. The mercenary went down with a sickening thud. He did not die, but there was no way he walked out of the cave under his own power. Zimbre stepped forward, shoving his blade into the man’s head and pulled it back, dripping with blood. 

Zimbre looked up. “Mercy.” 

Malik doubted he would have found it mercy had he been the man under the rock, but from the outside looking in, Malik believed Zimbre probably had saved the man a lot of agony. No one replied to Zimbre. No one was brave enough to talk at all. Now they had to watch the falling debris, and the metal grated door. 

The lights fell from their stands but did not wink out. At least Malik had that. He knew the fear would only rise if he could not see the beast coming for him. 

Malik felt a tap on his shoulder. It took everything in his power not to scream out. 

“Let’s run,” said Khris. 

The mercenaries all transfixed on the noise. No one watched them. The four captives⎯or five if you counted the caged Egg⎯were the least of Sweet Tongue and his crew’s worries. They were about to meet the guardian of the caves. Hopefully, they would meet their creator soon after. 

Malik looked for Mollie and Embre. Embre had stepped away from her brother. Zimbre was the only member of the group who looked relaxed. Maybe he was too stupid to know what came next, Malik thought. Even Sweet Tongue knew whatever came would be a nightmare. 

“We have to get the others,” Malik replied to Khris. 

Khris was already stepping forward to gather Embre. Malik looked around again, trying to find Mollie. Moments before Mollie had been right beside him, staring at Sweet Tongue and the others. 

Malik scanned the group twice before he saw Mollie crouched beside Egg’s cage. She worked at the lock but had little luck in freeing the creature. Malik swallowed his fear, blocked out the pain in his body, and wedged his way around the mercenaries. None of them commented on his movements. They probably thought he had nowhere to run, or maybe at this point they knew running was futile. How many had known they faced the potential threat of a dragon? How much had Sweet Tongue told any of them? From the looks on their faces, Malik would have ventured to guess it was little. 

More rocks showered down from the eaves. None of them were as big as the one that had broken the mercenary’s back, but some of them were formidable enough to cause cuts and bruises. Malik was only hit with a few palm sized rocks, nothing but a little added pain to an already screaming body. Malik reached down and grabbed one into his hand. When he reached Mollie, he bent beside her with an involuntary moan. 

Mollie flinched a little, ready for the blade or hand of a mercenary. She looked relieved when she saw it was Malik crouched beside her. 

“We have to free Egg,” she said. 

Malik flicked the rock to his fingertips and handed it to Mollie. “Best I could find to help under the circumstances.” 

Mollie smiled. It was a simple rock, but the smile it created was enough to make it mean so much more. Mollie took the rock from his hand and used it to beat at the lock holding the door to Egg’s cage shut. It was loud, but over the shaking there was no way anyone could tell the difference. It took her six swings before the wood splintered. Three more strikes and there was a gap large enough for her to pry apart the bars. With the help of Egg, from the inside, they broke enough of the cage for the little monster to escape. 

“Where do you think you are going?” One mercenary had stumbled back from the grate and now saw a victim they were less afraid of than the monster coming for them. 

Unfortunately for the mercenary, Egg was out of the cage now, and he was monster enough for one man. Egg jumped up, smashing his head into the mercenary’s face. The mercenary stumbled back only a few paces before Egg hit him again. The second hit was enough for the mercenary’s eyes to glaze over and his body to fall to the ground. He was not dead⎯Mollie would have frowned upon that⎯but he was out of play. 

None of the others looked back. Malik doubted any of the others cared anymore. They were only an insufficient time away from dying. One woman broke off from the crowd. She dropped her sword and frantically ran back the way they had come. Sweet Tongue’s eyes only wavered for a minute to her. 

“Let her go,” he said, deterring anyone to break away and chase after her. “The prize on the other side of this door is worth more than anything else you will ever do with your life. Remember, not only will it make you a rich man; you will also be a part of the Tempre. It is everything you could likely dream of.” 

Some faces changed to determination, but Malik figured more stayed put because of the fear rooting them to the floor. 

Mollie put a hand on his shoulder. “We can go this way,” she said, pointing in the direction opposite of the way they had come. 

“We don’t know what that path holds.” 

Mollie looked down the path and then back toward the grated door. More rocks fell from high above and through the slits in the bars Malik saw the first sign of the noisemaker. Its foot came crashing to the floor, ruining the smooth surface. 

Malik decided he did not care what was down the other path. Whatever was there was nothing compared to what was about to rip these men and women to shreds. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Malik said. 

He grabbed Mollie and started down the path. Khris and Embre trailed slightly behind them. Egg clasped onto Mollie’s arm. Malik thought of relieving Mollie from the heavy burden, but he did not have the strength. He was doing well to carry himself. With every step, his body rang out in pain and his mind pleaded with him to stop and fall to the ground. The roar from the beast motivated the other part of his mind, the part wanting to live, to keep going as fast as he could. 

The hallway widened out again just a few hundred yards away from their original stopping place. Here the room took on a fresh color. It was no longer the drab gray of rock and stone. Someone had taken the time to paint murals on the wall depicting the Saints, or what Malik assumed were the Saints. The men and women on the walls were much taller than a normal man or woman. Malik figured they were more akin to the stories of giants he had learned as a child. These creatures were at least thirteen feet tall. Their faces were perfect and held a sense of serenity and power. Their hands⎯the size of Malik’s chest⎯stretched out before them. Something like a white light emitted from their fingertips. All of them stood around in a circle surrounding a raised altar. In the middle of the raised platform was a small box. The box did not look special, but each Saints focused on it with all their intent. Behind them, the room was overtaken by black veins creeping over the walls and floor. Malik focused on the figures behind the Saints, seeing they were much smaller than the beings issuing light from their hands. These, he guessed, were human worshipers. Their eyes were black, and their hands furry paws. 

As they walked further into the room, Malik could see the other side of the wall. Here the mural depicted those same Saints, but no longer were they the dominant creatures of the room. The humans, who had stood behind them, had grown large. Their heads still looked like humans, but their bodies were now black, furry, and striped with white. Where their hands had been were now enormous claws the size of a man’s arm. Malik’s breath caught in his throat. He did not need to see the further transformation to know what had happened to those humans behind the Saints. Malik’s eyes trailed from the painting down to Egg. 

Egg’s long comical claws no longer seemed so funny. Malik knew what the creature could do with them. His cute features Malik once saw were far from cute any longer. The creature was a killer. The only thing stopping it from reaching for death was Mollie. Malik looked back to the paintings. It was obvious the humans had transformed into the blight that the old man had talked of. However, something had gone wrong for the Saints, or at least the old man had said it had. 

Mollie must have been coming to the same conclusion. She moved forward, touching the wall. She was not tall enough, none of them were, to reach the murals hanging over them. That did not stop her from tracing the curves of the smooth wall. 

“This must have been where it happened,” Mollie said. 

Malik tried to figure out exactly what had happened, but it was too much to process. 

“Egg is one of them,” Khris said from somewhere behind Malik. 

Malik could hear him stepping forward toward the wall. Malik moved away. He wanted to see what else was in the room. His curiosity piqued and for a moment he forgot all about the aches and pains running through his body. 

Further on, the veins of black and gray consumed much of the background. No longer could he see the shelves embedded into the walls or the trinkets lining them. The veins filled with something, making them pulse as if the room lived. 

Malik came to another painting depicting the humans totally encompassed by the monster’s new skin. They hovered over the once imposing Saints with menace growing in their eyes. The old man had said something frightened the Saints when they had attempted to destroy the humans. It looked like the blight had chosen their actual targets and the Saints were the ones who would perish. The scene along the wall changed to show the Saints cowering in fear. They attempted to fight, but several of the Saints died on the floor.

“It is painted over black here,” Malik called. 

He had not realized how far he walked away from the others. They were still in the central chamber and he walked into a room holding only a single stone altar. Around him all the walls were black, as if another artist had found offense. 

Mollie and the others looked up from their own trances. They studied the first round of paintings and had not even seen the ones depicting the final transformation. Egg was behind Mollie, roaming around. It looked up at what would be its ancestors. Malik hoped it did not awaken some ancient primal instinct. 

What had been behind this black paint? He wondered if it showed how the Saints had escaped, or maybe it showed the beast hunting Sweet Tongue and his men. Or maybe, by now, Sweet Tongue was dead, and they were free. 

Malik walked closer to the altar in the center of the room. He listened to Mollie and the others as they gave small shocked gasps at each new painting they walked past. He could hear their whispers, but he was not sure if they talked to one another or just to themselves. 

The altar had a single dip in the middle, making a cup filled with a clear liquid. The bowl was big enough for Malik to curl up into a ball and sit inside. Inside the cupped bowl was a box. Malik instantly recognized it as the box shown in the paintings surrounding them. This was the box the Saints had tried to use to end humanity. This is the box that had made the monsters like Egg and its mother. 

Malik wanted to reach out and touch it, but Mollie’s hand stopped him. 

“Wait!” 

She was gazing at the box and the liquid as well. Mollie shook the altar, stayed steadfast on the ground. She slapped at the surface of the altar closest to the liquid without touching it. The liquid did not ripple or move. Malik looked harder and realized the liquid was more like a gel and not a liquid at all. He could see the texture in it between the layers, even if it was barely discernable. 

“I am not sure we should touch that,” Mollie said. 

Khris and Embre stepped up to the altar. They both examined the substance but did not make a comment on it. Egg pulled at Mollie’s pants. Egg grew larger by the day, but it was still not tall enough to see into the cupped bowl. Mollie reached down and hoisted it into her arms. Egg crawled up onto the altar. 

Egg then bent, getting close enough for its reflection to bounce off the substance. Mollie went to reach for the creature, but Malik held his hand out. 

“Let’s see what Egg does.” 

Mollie looked reluctantly at Egg, but she did not remove it. 

Egg sniffed at the substance with great, heaving breaths. Satisfied, Egg took one claw and ran it across the surface. The liquid gel did not ripple or move, but some of it scraped away under Egg’s long claw. Egg held the gel up to its nose and smelled again. Then Egg threw the gel to the side and scooped another bit from the bowl. Egg did this several times, moving quicker with each scoop. After several scoops, Egg reached its hand into the gel and touched the box. At first the box did not react, but as Egg pulled it from the gel, it glowed the same color as Mollie’s sword. Egg held it eye level and watched as it moved from the warm glow of purple into blue and finally red. 

“What is it doing?” Embre asked. 

Everyone leaned in as close as they dared to come to both Egg and the glowing box. Egg turned to Mollie and held the box out toward her chest. 

“I am not sure that is a splendid idea,” Malik said before she could grab it. 

Mollie looked to Malik with curiosity in her eyes. Then she looked back to Egg, who still stood with the cube held out before its chest. 

“I trust Egg,” Mollie said and reached out for the cube. 

Just before her fingers could reach the box and take it from Egg’s claws, Malik heard the last voice he wanted to hear. 

“Thank you for finding it for me,” Sweet Tongue said. 

Everyone in the room, including Egg, turned to see Sweet Tongue standing alone in the archway leading to the black painted room. Sweet Tongue was bloody, and a few new scars joined his repertoire, but he was very much breathing and alive.