The Quest For the Black Dragon

by D.E. Dunlop

  “I say! Again with the questions! As any man or woman who is learned in such things would tell you, dragons are invisible, my boy.”

  Tinne couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at this last tidbit of information. He was thankful the light was untrustworthy. He did not wish to offend Ollie again and a look like that certainly would. “Grumpy Earl all over again.” He thought to himself.

  The lightning and thunder had been growing more prominent throughout the conversation and was, now, demanding a certain amount of attention.

  “Well, I shant find a dragon in a thunderstorm.” Ollie said. “That’s it for the night, young Tinne. Drop by sometime and I will tell you more about the Black Dragon.”

  “Alright, okay, yeah sure.” Tinne answered. “Are you certain that guy’s not gonna jump me on the way home?”

  “As long as you don’t go back and refresh his memory tonight you will be fine.”

  “Okay.” He was relieved that he wouldn’t have to be looking over his shoulder for the next two days or so. “Hey, do you mind if I bring a couple of friends to look at your books? I know they’d be fascinated.”

  “I say. If they’re interested in that sort of information I suppose it will be acceptable.” Ollie answered as he turned and walked away.

  “Great! Thanks Ollie.”

  “Adieu.” Ollie called over his shoulder.

  The thunder and lightning continued to increase and were quite frequent by this time. Tinne stood for a moment and watched his new friend fade into the night. He turned toward Sorotchynski’s. He wondered if Ren was finished his set. He figured the party would be well under way and considered returning. “Warminster.” He mumbled at the memory, turned and headed home.

  The spot on which Ollie and Tinne had been talking was situated about fifteen metres from an ancient ruin. Once the two were gone and nearly out of sight a strange aura emerged from the decrepit example of architecture. Initially the aura appeared in an irregular shape. It quickly split into two vaguely human forms. The two made luminous gestures and went separate ways. Each of them followed Tinne and Ollie. The thunder and lightning continued to utter, seemingly empty, promises for another half hour or so and then the sky opened up and delivered. It drenched the land within minutes.

  Tinne stepped beneath a large oak when the downpour came. He thought it humorous the rain finally fell when he was only ten minutes from home. While he stood he looked around, as well as he could, in the dark. A strange sensation caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up and a chill ran through his spine. He shivered violently and groaned against it. The cause for his discomfort stood next to him, also seeking refuge from the storm. His pursuer was barely a shimmer, thus making it nearly impossible to see. Tinne shuffled his feet and paced around under the tree. When his, unexplainable discomfort refused to leave he decided to brave the storm. He pulled one of his jackets up over his head and ran out into the rain. The barely shimmering spy made gestures of disapproval and vanished absolutely.

  Halfway home, Tinne noticed the discomfort was gone and assumed there must have been some spirit under the tree who was not happy with his company.

  Chapter 7

  The Black Dragon

  “It is only a matter of time now, my son.” The queen said over her shoulder to the man next to her. Her midnight blue robes and raven black hair flowed nobly behind her as they walked. They’re feet moved quick, but not hastily. “I am certain the Spirit Hunters are close now.” She smiled. The shadows on her face from the torchlight almost complimented the beautifully chiselled features. “Twenty years and most of the reports are isolated to one area. We received a new report from Simcoe last night.” They arrived at a balcony that over looked a very large room. The room was fairly dark. The only light was from a low number of candelabra spread out on the floor between the rows and rows of apparently sleeping people.

  “This is excellent, mother.” The young man replied.

  “Yes it is my son. Prepare the army for mobilization.” She said. “And then I want you to take a company to check on something before we advance.

  **********

  The newly dried golden rod and Queen Ann’s lace bowed humbly before the charging beasts. Eight large Rottweiler charged crazily across the land, burning with the passion of the hunt. Fast behind, four manned horses clad in battle armour, trailed by small clouds of dust. They gave the illusion of thunder, close on the heels of the hounds of hell. Early fall shadows stretched long while the menacing team faded into the distant forested horizon.

  The interior of the forest was beginning to fade as the sun set in the west. A curious mist crept in from all sides.

  “Quick, get in the circle.” Earl yelled at Sky. He was constructing a stone circle around himself. Sky looked behind, nervously, as a large black dog came charging out of the underbrush. Sky and the dog entered the ring as Earl dropped the last stone. Sky’s entrance was actually more of a fall and the dog had leapt right over him. All three vanished as soon as the circle was complete. Only moments later the other dogs were sniffing out the circle. They were going into frenzy. The scent trail had ended. They dug at the ground. They growled, barked and huffed. The soldiers arrived and were, of course, baffled. They looked into the trees for a sign, but it was too dark to actually see into them. The nearest tree was three and a half to four metres away; too far to jump. Unable to solve the puzzle they camped for the night and searched again in the morning. They were hoping the fugitives had some sort of ladder that they pulled up into the trees with them. They chose to ignore the missing dog part of the equation for the time being.

  **********

  “What happened to you last night?” Ren asked Tinne as the two of them and Ezbieta walked down the street in the early afternoon sun. “You missed my performance.”

  “What happened to me? What happened to you?” Tinne accused. “I nearly got killed.” He exclaimed.

  “You mean the Warminster?”

  “You saw and you couldn’t put the guitar down for a minute to help? You loser.”

  “You’re alive.” Ren said dryly.

  “Looked like you started it to me.” Ezbieta added.

  They continued on their walk for a while.

  “You get all the excitement. Why can’t I get some excitement? I haven’t been so bored in all my life.” Ren complained to deaf ears.

  “Here it is.” Tinne said, pointing out a small house with a dark blue door. “This is Ollie’s place, here.”

  They stepped up to the door and knocked. After a moment of silence Tinne knocked again.

  “Why don’t you ring the bell?” Ren suggested, pointing at a rather large cowbell that was protruding from the jamb on a steel bracket.

  “Why don’t you ring the bell?” Tinne asked in return.

  “Why should I ring it?” Ren replied.

  “It’s on your side.”

  “So? Ring the frickin bell.” Ren said indignantly.

  “I’ll ring your frickin bell.” Tinne snapped back.

  “Ring my bell? I’ll ring your bell!” Ren argued defiantly.

  So that was how Ollie found them, rolling around on his lawn, each trying to punch the other in the head and Ezbieta standing on the stoop with arms crossed, disgusted with the maturity of it all.

  “Well, I say.” The stout little man hailed upon opening to the racket.

  “Well, I never!” He said a little louder and a little more indignantly when he realized they hadn’t heard his first statement. “Some people’s children have absolutely no sense of decorum.” He was nearly shouting by this time.

  “Ollie.” Tinne shouted. “Sorry about that. Bit of a disagreement.” He explained as they brushed themselves off and entered the quaint abode.

  “Well, I say, I hope it was about something paramount.” Ollie said.

  “Oh, that it was.” Ezbieta said with a roll
of her eyes.

  The small home was filled with cluttered shelves, desks and tables. Every available horizontal surface was covered with relics, heirlooms, texts, tinctures, potions and all manner of charms and talismans. Even the chairs gathered around the hearth were filled.

  “Excuse the mess.” Ollie said as he led them through the labyrinth to the study.

  Ren tagged along behind, looking at stacks and wiping off some dust with a finger.

  “What exactly do you do, Ollie?” He asked as Ollie and Tinne approached a desk with an old book on it. Ollie was already lost in what he was about to show them.

  “What do I do?” He repeated to himself softly. “Oh, yes! Study. I study…all sorts of things, myths, legends, chemistry. Yes. I study.” Ollie replied. “See? Look at this right here…”

  “So you’re one of those guys who thinks he can turn base metal into gold? What are they called, alchemists?” Ren said with a slight bit of cynicism.

  “I say! I say! Yes, but it’s not quite as simple as that. No, no, no.” He quickly got lost in the book again. Ren continued to look and wander around the crowded home.

  “Now, where was I? Oh yes, right here, The Black Dragon.” Ollie pointed to a primitively hand drawn picture on the page of a great black dragon with wings, ferocious claws and it formed a circle with its snake like body by holding its own tail in its mouth.

  “What book is this?” Tinne asked as he leaned over it to get a closer look.

  “Legends of Anon.” Ollie answered. He looked back and read:

  “At the birth of the new age, the sun’s first rays stretched across the frozen land and reached like tendrils through the rubble of the last battlefield. Cold grey shadows fought long and hard only to retreat when the dawn called out o’er the land. Her sweet voice was but a faint distant echo in that one far off empty field. At that moment when all, to her, seemed lost, the memories that lingered took hold of the peaceful and sacred tones of her voice, and on this glorious morn’, the ancient, sleeping gods, from the ashes of the Field of Lords, did rise, like the phoenix, to reclaim their thrones.

  Before the dawn of humanity there were, already established, three worlds or realms, the realm of gods and the realm of Lords, both of which were populated with higher or spiritual beings. The gods were many and each group ruled their respective sections of the physical realm (the first and lowest of the three worlds). All of the lesser gods were merely faces or spirits of the One who dwells in the Beyond, the creator of all things. Therefore none were worshipped without this understanding. The Lords of the middle realm ruled over the region between mortality and immortality, they were connected, yet removed from the other two worlds. Often they waged war on the gods in hopes of rising to the next level prematurely. Their regions to rule were the four ends of the earth. The most spiteful of all the gods were the two eldest sons of the creator. They were first to rule the realms but their constant combating lead the creator to give their dominions over to new gods. The two became rogues who fought with any group of gods over any section of the other realms as both wished desperately to regain domination. They each remained the other’s arch nemesis. If one were at war with a band of gods the other would join the band of gods to defeat his twin. After many aeons the light god defeated the dark god. This victory gained him nothing but the mere satisfaction of winning as the other gods still would not give up their dominions. Being envious of his brother’s victory, the dark god’s only ambition for nearly an eternity was to regain face; contemplating, finally, that the total destruction of anything must begin at the root. The root of course was the physical realm, as this was the starting point of the development of eternal beings. The power to destroy any realm or the inhabitants thereof was not his. However he theorized that he could gain power by incarnating himself in the physical realm and rising through the stages. He also observed that by so doing, he would gain an aspect the other gods had never experienced and that was mortal possession.

  As a demigod, he now had a certain element of control over the two lower realms. Through extensive ritual he convinced the four Lords and their armies to congregate at one central point where he would be waiting to consume all of their energies by the completion of this complex ritual. By doing this he would gain complete domination over the lower realms. With the power of the entire central realm within himself he would then devise a plan to conquer the realm of the gods.

  The Lords and their armies arrived at the edges of the field just as the first rays of dawn pierced the winter sky. The field was somewhat circular and sunken in the centre. Each Lord, with his or her army came of course from their own corner of the earth and lined the appropriate side of the field. At the centre of this field they beheld a man standing within a circle that was mapped out with many symbols, including those that represented the four elemental kingdoms. The man slowly chanted inaudible words and calmly swayed in an almost dance like manner as all eyes rested upon him. The man then made a single step towards the east with his arms going out before him, palms upward. As he stepped back toward the centre of the circle he drew his arms in to his chest and the Lord of the air felt a strange pull. The man then proceeded clockwise repeating this action to each of the Lords, with the same results. He repeated the cycle a second time. There was mounting confusion amongst the beings of the elemental realm. When he made the motion to the east for the third time the army advanced toward him. A smirk like grin creased that man’s face as he thought to himself that all was going as planned. In this same moment a look of shock and fear quickly replaced that of contemplation on the face of Scathach Sail, she being the female Lord of the elemental kingdom of water in the west. Harbouring great depths of knowledge and strong intuitive sense, she realized the dangerous possibilities of this man’s dance. The deep throaty sound of her conch echoed in the ears of all present and her army charged forth with weapons in hand. As the western army reached the circle the other three Lords became inexplicably anxious and unsettled and likewise attacked, each unknowing of the other’s intentions. Thus they fought each other as well as the strange man within the circle.

  Rain, snow and hail fell hard upon their heads as the ground shook in waves under foot causing rocks from far below to pierce the topsoil. The raging winds picked up fighting bodies and flung them like leaves about the field while infernal flames leapt high above the horizon. The battle stormed through the night and the savagery therein blackened the following dawn. For three days the war continued, the level of ferocity never faltering.

  On the fourth day the sun dared to gaze once again on that plot of land. He found no live thing, a blackened, horrific, open tomb in the midst of a snow-covered plain. The circle remained. At its centre lay three small stones, one black, one gold and one silver. Legend holds that these three stones contain great powers. It is said that anything spoken in the presence of these stones becomes reality.

  The Black Dragon,

  The most powerful ally of the Story Tellers dictated the very future of mankind by controlling the stones. To offend the dragon meant certain calamity for the ensuing two hundred years. When the dragon was pleased there was blessing.”

  “So, what’s it about, then?” Ren called from, yet, another room.

  “So what’s what about?” Ollie replied absently.

  Ezbieta meandered, with intrigue, the large hoard of talismans, books and artefacts. She paid no mind to the conversations going on around her. An old dust-covered book on a crowded china hutch grabbed her attention, rather suddenly. She carefully and curiously wiped the dust off. The picture on the cover looked something like the silhouette of a person only it was coloured in a radiant blue. The title read: “Astral Projection, fact or fantasy?” She flipped through some of the pages, reading bits and pieces. She turned to look at the others and seeing none were looking at her she carefully tucked the book into the many layers of clothing she wore.

&nb
sp; “Alchemy. What’s alchemy about?” Ren said.

  “Right, right, yes. Truth.”

  “What?”

  “Alchemy is about truth.” Ollie said.

  “Truth? What’s truth got to do with anything? Everybody’s version of the truth is different and self-serving, if you ask me.” Ren argued.

  “My grandfather always said, ‘there are always three sides to every story, her side, his side and the truth”. Tinne added with most of his attention still in the book.

  “The ancient Druids had an axiom, ‘Y gwir yn yrbin ybydd.’ the truth against the world. No matter what the majority considered to be right a druid sought the truth; that thin thread connecting all existence. Even myths and legends start with truth.” Ollie explained.

  “So if it’s just a thin thread, why bother?” Ren queried. “I mean, what’s the point?”

  “I say, I say. What’s the point? The source. The source is the point. At the end of the thread there is a large ball of thread.” He said enthusiastically.

  “So is this the dragon you were looking for? What makes you think you’ll find it here? It says here, ‘the dragon lives in a place called the Field of Lords.”

  Ollie looked, quickly, back and forth at the two young men, each asking questions about two very different subjects, and shook his head.

  “I say! I never.” He muttered under his breath. “It also says in the book, ‘the Black Dragon fled from the Field of Lords toward Simcoe, but was never seen again.” He answered to Tinne. “The source of the truth is what I seek, wherever it lies.” He then said to Ren.

  “Some say the Saints know the truth.” Ezbieta interjected from a distant corner. She had briefly tuned in and then right back out again as something interesting on a bookshelf caught her attention.

  “The Saints are fanatical lunatics.” Tinne added. “Blind sheep.”