Gilmreth the Awakening

by Raymond L. Weil

  In the sky above, Gilmreth stared down at the jumbled stones where he’d fought his attackers, first one human female, whom he had defeated and taken back to his lair; that feeding had been the strongest ever. But the second human he hadn’t been able to destroy and the pain had been tremendous from the lightning blasts that powerful human had hurled at him. Later, that same human came to Gilmreth’s lair. In his primitive mind, he knew that human had been responsible for his long, captive sleep. Gilmreth banked his wings, circling the ruins in a slow glide looking for any signs of life, his eyes finally focusing on the large farmhouse off to one side of the ancient ruins.

  Lynol and her father rushed outside into the chill night air, looking worriedly upward. She fought down growing panic, a hollow feeling of fear as she gazed up, and up, and up. A dim shape blotting out the stars could be seen high in the night sky slowly descending, circling the farmhouse.

  Grasping her amulet, Lynol stopped in her tracks just outside the entrance to the crypt. Gilmreth was here; where better to face the dragon! This was her center of power, her home! Fleeing to the crypt would only postpone the inevitable and endanger countless lives if Gilmreth wasn’t stopped. Her training was nearly complete, and she could think of no legitimate reason to delay this confrontation.

  For a moment, a stab of anger against fate made her clench her teeth. She would make her stand against Gilmreth here and now! She would test her powers of sorcery against the age and strength of the deadly dragon. It was time for her to face the evil abomination that had killed Lys and caused Malcon’s death.

  Determinedly, Lynol stared upward. She could always escape into the safety of the crypt if necessary. But that would mean she had failed! That Gilmreth was too strong and all her long years of studying wasted. Lynol knew with a sudden dawning realization that her time had finally come. With growing resolve, she knew what she had to do.

  “Lynol, the crypt!” her father yelled, coming to a sudden, confused stop at the stone looking back at his daughter. “We must go inside!”

  Damon looked frantically upward at the descending dragon. The creature was huge. It was all the legends he had ever heard or told come to life, and it was descending toward them!

  Looking at the waiting Sylvar Stone, Lynol concentrated briefly and the doorway appeared. “Go father; go inside! I must face Gilmreth; tell Malcon that Gilmreth is here!” Lynol spoke with growing determination.

  Turning, Lynol looked back up into the black night sky. A blue glow quickly building, surrounding her in a spectral radiance as her crystal amulet grew warm in her left hand. This was the beginning of her destiny, the fulfillment of the prophecies. What she had studied and trained so hard for. What her mother had set her to do; why she had left her amulet for Lynol.

  Lynol felt her heart slow to a steady beat, and she took in several deep, controlled breaths, willing herself to calm down. She looked off into the distance where she knew the Gor farm was, knowing if she failed Kalvin and Dresdia could be in deadly danger from the dragon. She couldn’t fail!

  Damon stood at the entrance, unsure of what he should do, fearful for Lynol’s safety. “Lynol, you would be safe in the crypt!” he cried desperately, concern for his only daughter edging into his voice. “You don’t have to face Gilmreth yet. Now is not the time!”

  “Gilmreth must be stopped before he does any more killing; the sacrifices must come to an end!” Lynol replied firmly, glancing at her father as the wind began to pick up from the spell she was weaving. “Get inside the crypt, Father, so I won’t have to worry about your safety!” Lynol turned her gaze upward toward the slowly descending dragon.

  Up above, Gilmreth noticed the two humans. His urge to attack and feed rose as he sensed the pureness and tremendous power in the smaller one. Nevertheless, he hesitated. This was the place of tremendous pain from his past. Gilmreth saw a blue glow suddenly surround the smaller human and the air temperature quickly dropped, chilling the dragon as the air grew frigid. Huge, threatening clouds came into being, rapidly covering the partial moon and the myriad of shining night stars. For a moment, Gilmreth remembered a past time when another human had stood in a tower at this very spot and what had transpired then.

  Under Lynol’s command a huge storm quickly formed, and jagged sheets of lightning ripped the night sky apart. With her sorcery skills, she had absolute control of the weather. Thunder echoed across the darkened meadows as it walked toward the dragon. A heavy, cold rain began to fall, battering the ground, turning the dry surface quickly to mud. Lightning flared nearby, the immediate clap of thunder drowning out Damon’s pleading voice calling to her from the entrance of the crypt. Storms and lightning were spells she controlled extremely well according to Malcon! The power her crystal generated in a storm was truly breathtaking; like nothing ever seen before!

  “Now, Gilmreth, we shall see,” murmured Lynol, readying herself, watching the dragon warily with her eyes.

  It was time to find out how much she’d learned. This would be her christening, her coming into her own as a Sylvar sorceress, her true test of fire! Lys had failed to conquer the dragon a thousand years ago from this exact spot; now it was Lynol’s turn. She was a Sylvar, and this was her heritage!

  Concentrating deeply upon the storm, a huge bolt of blue-white lightning reached out and tapped the dragon on his back with a thunderous explosive crack. Lynol felt her amulet throb and grow very warm. The bolt drove Gilmreth nearly to the ground, bathing the dragon in the blue-white afterglow from the fearsome bolt.

  With a painful scream of rage, Gilmreth rose back into the night sky, only to be struck again and again by massive bolts of lightning. The ground itself seemed to shudder from the intensity of the blasts of blue-white light, which sprang from the clouds. Once more and then again the world turned into an intolerable glare as massive bolts of blue-white lightning detonated against Gilmreth, battering him high up in the storm tossed night sky. The thunder seemed to roar continuously. Lynol felt as if she was part of the storm, the lightning bolts extensions of her own arms and fingers.

  In anger, Gilmreth dove down toward his attacker, breathing dragon flame in a massive jet of red at the human below. Gilmreth knew the deadly flame would incinerate his tormentor, or at the very least distract the human. This would allow Gilmreth to wrap his deadly talons around this dangerous human and put a quick end to this confrontation. Then Gilmreth would feed!

  Lynol saw the dragon’s deadly flame reaching toward her and wove a quick spell that caused the flame to be deflected harmlessly back up into the night air. She could smell the acrid stench of dragon flame about her. She felt a weak wave of dizziness assail her. For a brief moment, she remembered how Lys had felt just before Gilmreth defeated her. Fortifying herself, she redoubled her efforts. She saw Gilmreth diving toward her, his talons outstretched!

  She focused upon the storm, summoning its strength. She felt her mind reach out and become the storm, her breath became its wind, her hands once more its lightning. She reached out and tapped Gilmreth again with a huge, blue-white lightning bolt. Again and again in rapid succession she struck the dragon. The thunder roared and blasted through the night. Wind currents changed and blew at unheard of velocities for a few seconds one direction and then switching to another as Gilmreth was tossed about by the powerful fury of the storm. The noise from the thunder and wind reached an unbelievable crescendo, becoming nearly deafening.

  Dragon flame scoured the air repeatedly as Gilmreth vented his rage. Never had the dragon met such resistance! He voiced his anger in a monstrous roar that competed with the rolling thunder. Two huge lightning bolts struck Gilmreth simultaneously, one upon his back and another on his left wing. For a moment, Gilmreth lost control and fell toward the ground in an uncontrolled plunge.

  Gilmreth struck the hard ground with a loud crash and a roar of frustration and pain. Leaping back up into the air, the dragon struggled to rise as the wind tried to push him back down. Massive hailstones pummeled the dragon. In fury and
in pain, Gilmreth turned and flew rapidly to the north, trying to escape his tormentor.

  Never had Gilmreth experienced such pain in all of his long life. Lightning struck the dragon again, nearly driving him back down to the ground. With a scream of fury, Gilmreth flew on. Never again would he return to this place; a giver of pain still lived here! He would feed elsewhere. The human female at the temple would pay dearly for sending him to this side of the mountain. In Gilmreth’s mind, his days of obedience to that human had ended!

  With surprise and elation, Lynol saw the dragon fly off disappearing into the darkness. The cold rain continued to fall in sheets around her, and the brisk, chill wind whipped her hair. Continuing to concentrate, Lynol caused the storm to abate, weaken, and completely disappear. She didn’t dare allow a storm of this magnitude to reach Galvin. It could do as much harm to the village as the dragon. In a few minutes, only a few small, fleeting showers remained.

  Gilmreth fears me, Lynol realized, sensing the fleeing dragon’s frightened thoughts. She had succeeded in saving Galvin from the dragon’s deprivations and had used her powers to drive the dragon off! Perhaps he wasn’t as powerful as he’d been in Malcon’s time. She’d passed her christening of fire; faced Gilmreth and survived! She felt a sudden feeling of relief wash over her.

  “Father, Gilmreth has left; come back out!” Lynol called, elated, turning toward the crypt.

  Shivering, Damon got to his feet and wiped the cold, clinging mud off his face and hands. The ferocity of the storm had surprised him. He’d never made it completely into the safety of the crypt. The force of the wind and rain had driven him ruthlessly to the ground. Only now did he realize the awesome strength of his daughter’s sorcery. Never had he seen or felt a storm so powerful. It was almost frightening the power he had watched his daughter wield.

  With an amazed look, he took a hesitant step toward his daughter. For the first time, he had hope in his eyes, hope that Lynol would survive what lay ahead of her. What she had just done not even Lys had been able to do: drive Gilmreth away! Only Malcon had been able to do that, and now Lynol had also managed to defeat the dragon!

  “Has the dragon gone?” Damon asked, his eyes scanning the dark night skies above for any sign of Gilmreth.

  “Yes, Father,” replied Lynol, sensing Gilmreth’s fading thoughts as he continued to fly away. “Gilmreth’s gone and I don’t think he’ll be coming back.” It was only then that Lynol realized she was dripping wet from the storm. Her clothes were soaked through and covered in mud.

  Sodden and mud splattered, Lynol and her father made their way to the porch of their home. Her thoughts turned to Dresdia and Kalvin. They had to have been awakened by the powerful storm. They’d be full of a thousand questions, especially when they heard about Gilmreth. Wait until she told them what had transpired. Even the people in Galvin must have heard the thunder from the lightning bolts. To Lynol they had been nearly deafening. She knew there would be many questions.

  Perhaps it was time to come out into the open. This was something she would have to discuss with her father and Malcon. Lynol knew that Jalene was responsible for sending the dragon. When the dragon returned to her, Lynol’s secret would probably be out. Jalene would know that there was another sorceress alive and well in the world!

  -

  Far into the night Gilmreth flew. He was angry at being forced to come to this side of the mountain to hunt. Below, more lights finally came into sight. With a cold fury, Gilmreth dove at the sleeping village of Handon’s Ferry, his flaming breath setting home after home afire. His rage totally out of control, Gilmreth vented his pain and anger upon the hapless village.

  In moments, people began to stumble outside to look up into the night sky, trying to understand what was happening. Helpless and frightened, the people fled screaming and running for their lives into the night as the dragon swooped down and landed on the ground. Burning homes lit up the surrounding countryside, the rancid stench of dragon flame was spreading upon the wind. Reaching out with his talons, Gilmreth tore down the wall of a large home seeking a victim to feed his painful fury. An old woman lay huddled in her bed, the first of Gilmreth’s victims. Tonight Gilmreth would gorge himself. No one would escape his fury!

  Mothers grabbed their children and fled the village, horrified fathers grabbed up tools and anything else that could be wielded as a weapon to defend their families from the rampaging dragon. Helplessly, men, women, and children died as the dragon plundered the village, laying it to waste. Gilmreth’s angry roar echoed across the land as fiery dragon fire burned the village.

  Gilmreth fed greedily, feeding his growing wrath. His warped mind driven to destroy, to take revenge upon the helpless humans beneath him for the pain he had been forced to endure. Trying to quench the intense pain inflicted upon him by the lightning bolts and to satisfy his burning hunger in the only way he knew how. He killed and fed, then he killed and fed again, again, and again!

  For long hours, Gilmreth wreaked havoc in the village. Finally, every home was destroyed or burning. The few surviving villagers fled into the countryside, hoping to escape the deadly dragon. A red glow burned in the night sky as Gilmreth used his fiery dragon flame to turn the remainder of the village into blackened ashes. A miniature firestorm appeared in the heart of the village as the rising temperature set everything burnable aflame. Everywhere there was fire, smoke, and ashes.

  Leaping into the air with powerful beats of his wings, Gilmreth searched for and found a small group of scattered villagers that had managed to escape his wrath fleeing down a dark path toward the river. His loud roar of rage frightening the villagers, causing one to trip and fall.

  Tohm Mystol looked up into the cold night air, out of breath and his heart hammering. In the distance, the fiery red glow of Handon’s Ferry cast an eerie light upon the nightmarish creature descending toward him. He felt dizzy as if the ground was sloping away too steeply, he had trouble getting his breath, and his vision blurred. He was looking at something he had never expected to see in his life.

  The huge shape of a dragon from the ancient legends landed beside him, its huge weight shaking the ground. Looking up into its cruel yellowish red eyes, Tohm recognized his fate. Damon Sylvar had spoken the truth! Gilmreth was real and as fearsome and deadly as Damon had described in all of his stories. I’m sorry, Gwen, he thought, as the dragon’s massive wings folded around him. Gilmreth’s head lowered hungrily downward, mouth opening to reveal razor sharp teeth. The foul stench of the dragon’s breath caused Tohm to reel as the dragon’s deadly teeth came closer. The Sylvars and the Gors would help take care of his wife was his final thought. He closed his eyes as the dragon struck.

  -

  Lynol stood horrified feeling the breath rasping in her throat. The sky to the distant north was the color of fire; of death! She stood helplessly upon the porch of their home with her father holding her as she sobbed. Tears of rage and pain threatened to overwhelm Lynol as she realized that Tohm was dead! She’d sensed Gilmreth’s attack upon Handon’s Ferry, but the distance was so great there was nothing she could do. She had saved Galvin only to drive the fearsome dragon toward Handon’s Ferry instead! Now it was gone; destroyed by the dragon. Even worse, Tohm Mystol had been in the village. Lynol didn’t see how he could have survived the onslaught of the dragon.

  “How can I ever face Gwen?” sobbed Lynol, feeling responsible for the tragedy. Her voice felt tight in her throat, and her heart was pounding. “If Tohm’s dead, it’s my fault!”

  “If not Handon’s Ferry it would have been us or some other village. It’s not your fault, Lynol,” her father said, trying to comfort her.

  The possible death of Tohm had also hit Damon hard. He’d known Tohm all his life. They’d been close friends since early childhood. He was finding it hard to accept that he was gone, killed by Gilmreth.

  “If you have to blame someone, blame Jalene; she woke the dragon. She sent the dragon here, ordered it to attack, and she’s the one who cau
sed the deaths!” Damon stated firmly, holding his daughter at arm’s length and looking deep into her light blue eyes. “Jalene is the cause of all this, Lynol; you must remember that!”

  Damon pulled Lynol against his chest, holding his sobbing and shocked daughter. Finally, the sobbing stopped. She pulled away, sitting down on the porch and staring at Firestorm Mountain in the darkness. Damon sat down next to her, putting his arm protectively around her shoulders.

  For a long while, Lynol and Damon sat on the porch of their home in silence. Lynol sat puzzling out what had happened and why. There was a sad, empty coldness clutching her heart at the night’s tragedy, a heavy sadness pressing against her very soul. Her victory against Gilmreth had been stolen from her. The tragedy of Handon’s Ferry threatened to overwhelm her. She couldn’t help but feel responsible. Tears flowed unchecked from Lynol’s eyes. It would be a long, sleepless night.

  It was dawn when Lynol finally stood. The air was chill and moist from the rain, the sky a soft pink and gentle purple. The fertile meadows to the west were shrouded in early morning fog that turned a dim gold as the sun’s first rays touched them. Here and there a towering tree rose like an emerald island from the fog. It was as if the frightful events from the night before had never occurred. “I must speak to Malcon,” Lynol said softly to her father. “I will be in soon.”

  Damon nodded, watching his daughter walk slowly down the path that led to the garden and the crypt. He knew she’d been through a lot this past night. After all, she was now a sorceress, tried and tested by fire. He also needed to think about how he was going to break the news about Tohm to Gwen. That was going to be very difficult!

  Lynol walked slowly, determinedly, toward the ancient crypt, the still open doorway beckoning. She had much to speak to Malcon’s simulacrum about. The time had finally come for her to take her place as a Sylvar sorceress. It was time to do something about Jalene and Gilmreth. There would be no more innocent deaths! It was time to test the prophecy. Lynol was determined to accept her destiny. She reached the ancient Sylvar Stone and started down the steps. She knew it would be a long morning.