“Face-off With the Demon Queen”

Keno and Gregor realized that they were on the roof of the fortress, but where exactly they were not sure. There were slants to climb, ledges to jump down, and many accessible blacked-out windows through which to return inside if they so desired. So many paths were available, but which one to take? Through the cool, violet twilight, the haunting shriek of an anonymous demon-vulture cried out from an arbitrary direction, eliminating that particular option.

"FIGHT 'EM LATER!" Keno commanded anxiously, wanting nothing to do with it. Thus he and the wizard darted in the opposite direction like kids in a haunted funhouse.

They hastily bounded over several levels of rooftops until coming to an overpass— an arch meant more as an architectural accent rather than a footbridge but still worthy of providing access across an indefinitely deep chasm. The walkway, though devoid of rails, was not awfully narrow, so Keno and Gregor felt easy about traversing it.

Converging at the other end of the bridge was a small squadron of ten or so unarmed skeletons, standing helplessly in wait like beggars left in the cold. This was hardly considered an obstacle to the seasoned warriors, so Keno marked them for death with a point of his finger and snorted a chuckle. "Now you we can handle!"

These pathetic pawns were not stupid; they showed the intimidation expected of them and began to back away.

Suddenly, from the depths of the chasm shot a bright green comet that demanded the heroes' focus, so they hit an offensive stance right in the middle of the bridge. They watched in suspense as the projectile arced in the mist and floated back down, landing softly on the path ahead and burning like a five-and-a-half-foot pillar of crackling flame. Keno and Gregor squinted at it mystified, their faces washed in bright green tint, as two appendages extended from the sides of the pillar like arms. Then with one fluid twirl, the flame absorbed into space, leaving only the pirouetting form of the redheaded mistress in the sorceress's gown.

Curiosity turned into a look of familiar surprise on the heroes' faces. Centura, however, reflected a sly smile back at them, her bouncy locks draping down her right cheek.

"Ahh, I thought I sensed a corruptive presence in this fortress," she stated, her voice warm yet calculating. "Looks like I found myself a couple of little mice."

Far be it for a woman to compare Gregor to a rodent. Comically he rolled up his sleeve and shook his fist at the sorceress. "Hey, as if you call us mice, bitch!"

"Uh-uh, I would be careful of what you say," she chided the men with a wagging finger. "After all, you're at a disadvantage being a couple of mortals balancing precariously atop this chasm bridge, and at any given time I can drop you both to a screaming doom."

"Only if you think your magic is superior to mine," Gregor challenged, raising his staff.

"No, really," Centura replied with a flouting snicker. "Don't tempt me."

Keno returned with a strategic glare of his own and asked, "Who are you, and what are your ties with Skullduggery?"

Centura laughed like a giddy adolescent. "Well, since your life is hanging by my strings, I might as well reveal all my secrets before doing away with you. It's a tradition among archfiends, after all. You see, it goes a little something like this—" But instead of an explanation, all that poured from her lips was a sputtering laugh.

"Aww, you're not gonna tell us?" Gregor frowned mockingly. He remained cool, lowering his staff by his side like a walking stick before giving Keno a subtle nudge. The barbarian shot a quick glance at his partner before lowering his weapon too. Side-by-side, they were so close that Keno's sword arm blocked the staff from Centura's view, so what she could not see was the hilt of the sword touching the tip of the staff and absorbing its power.

Gregor continued to distract the sorceress. "You're gonna kill us anyway, so what harm could it do to tell us your plans? I mean, these must be some big plans of yours, right? Plans for a major, exciting outcome? Well, instead of keeping the big news to yourself where no one can appreciate it, wouldn't it be nice if you shared it with us so we can say, 'wow, those are some asskicking plans you got there! I can't wait to see this happen!' And besides, how much of a challenge could we little mice pose anyway? I mean, we already know your magical powers are far superior to FIREBALL!"

Centura snapped a palm toward Gregor as a means to nullify the spell. The ruse worked. Like a spring-loaded trap, Keno drew his sword, and its magically enhanced blade shot forth a missile of fire. It was an excellent surprise tactic on the heroes' part, but even quicker the sorceress introduced her other hand.

"LOCK!"

She stood with hands posed as if clutching an invisible globe. Between her palms, lighting up all the features of her dementedly mystified face was Keno's fiery projectile, still in all its flaming animation but fixed in mid air. As she held it there, it crackled with rage and grew in intensity, larger and hotter, turning from red to white. Then with a graceful arm, she lobbed the nuclear orb into the sky where it was consumed by the smog.

The Demon Queen struck a dramatic pose, her left arm held stiffly at a low angle and her right hand touching her temple in a sign of concentration. The thick atmosphere brewed and churned, and the winds around her grew fierce, blowing her hair back and ruffling her gown.

In an echoing, almost disembodied voice, Centura chanted, "Dwellers of the darkness, heed my command. Sow this seed of destruction and REAP a bountiful harvest!"

In the most awesome display of destructive power, the ceiling let loose with a shower of multiplied fireballs. Crash after crash, the comets burst onto the rooftops with tremendous explosions. There was nothing the heroes could do but shield their eyes and stagger atop the quaking structure as Centura, completely immune to it all, hyperventilated on her own diabolical laughter.

Just a few seconds of apocalyptic fire rain was enough to collapse the archway, sending chunks of rubble, along with Keno and Gregor, screaming into the black, hazy depths as Centura had predicted. It all happened so fast, there was no time for the two men to hope for a miracle.

"Look! Up ahead!" Kittykat shouted from behind Keeb, both traveling at a terrific speed on the back of their scaly blue ride, their arms wrapped around respective golden spines, wind whipping across their faces. "It looks like people falling!"

Keeb confirmed, "It's Keno and Gregor! Hurry, Indingo! Catch 'em!"

The streamlined dragon, already carrying four passengers, soared to intersect with the flailing men. Indingo showed amazing skill as he not only dodged the falling debris, but accurately plucked Keno by the ankle and hooked a claw around Gregor's hood on the fly. Once the dangling barbarian realized what had happened, he gave his oversized ally a proud thumbs-up, while Gregor struggled, trying to keep from sliding out of his robe. As Indingo maintained his course through the deep chasm, his riders praised him with plenty of vocal fanfare. The rescue was successful, and the team was finally reunited.

Although the depths of the cavern were shrouded by mist and darkness, the presence of familiar grand peacock wings cutting into the light was obvious to Centura. From her high perch of broken granite, she snarled through her teeth. It was time for another spell.

She raised her arms over her head, and a mini black cloud formed and billowed. Her voice screeching with contempt, she hailed, "CRITIKUL!"

Thud! The eight-foot master of Skullduggery himself fell from the cloud and landed flat on his chest, his wings propped above his back like traumatized boat sails. With a dazed smirk on his muzzle he droned, "You summoned me, Centura?"

"Yes, I most certainly did!" she scolded. "What is the dragon doing loose from its den?"

"Thoroughly irritating me?" he answered lazily.

"This is no time for games! Pick yourself up and give chase this instant!"

The mighty gargoyle-demon sighed tiredly as he got to his knees. "I wish I could, Demon Queen, but the dragon's air speed is far greater than mine, and I cannot—"

"Oh, fine! Say no more," Centura hagged before pointing a demanding finger at the wayward skeleton brigade. "You! Come closer. I have a surprise for you all."

The skeletons' eye sockets all seemed to enlarge suspiciously at the proposal as they reluctantly shuffled forth.

Commencing with a dramatic performance on a stage of rubble, Centura meditated, her arms draped by her sides and her head hung solemnly. Then she stirred into motion, waving her hands gently with sparkling ribbons of golden light trailing from her palms, forming a temporary pattern of luminous swirls. After exhaling deeply, her powerful voice rang with another chant. "Dwellers of the darkness, fulfill my next demand. Allow my hands to sculpt your portrait of hatred and malice upon the raw misery I provide. Skeletal soldiers, merge and form into NECROGANTUS!"

A beam of blinding gold light blasted from Centura's hands and engulfed the skeletons. In a twisted display of demonic evolution, their bones separated and joined again in a different configuration, morphing into the framework of a mammoth beast. As the enchantment subsided, and Critikul was able to widen his eyes from a squint, what stood before him smoldering in residual incantation was Centura's morbid answer to a mode of transportation.

This undead monster named Necrogantus was nearly equal in size to Indingo, but it, in no way, resembled a dragon. It had no wings, tail, or long neck, but instead fused armor plating like that of a rhinoceros— a rhinoceros whose corpse had been ripped apart by jackals, maybe. Upon four creaky legs, the beast stood poised like a jungle cat, large tusks jutting from its elbow joints. Attached to its shoulders was a nightmarish head, long and broad. Its nasal line was actually the remnants of vertebrae with traces of ribs and shoulder blades embedded in the fused mass of bone: a helpless soul fossilized in mid torment. Along the sides of its skull were five pairs of eye sockets, sequentially smaller in size as the snout tapered. Overall its form was sleek and potentially dynamic. On top of that, it was a magical beast, surely capable of tracking down any fugitive dragon.

Critikul nodded, pleased and impressed, but there was no time to stand and admire. With a leap of his foot and a few assistant flaps of his wings, he mounted the creature.

An authoritative point of Centura's finger showed them the way. "Go! Thwart the dragon's escape!" she commanded. "I want him back alive!"