9 Tales From Elsewhere 6

by 9 Tales From Elsewhere

  His eyes were drawn back to the creature, it was no longer searching for a meal, it was staring right at him. He was the only thing that could stop it from setting the entire city ablaze, he couldn’t turn and run, even if he wanted to. The people of the city were innocent, they didn’t deserve the deaths the creature would bring. Strength alone wouldn’t win this fight, tactics were needed and the man could think of only one thing that might work. He stood up with his arms out to either side, challenging the dragon heart. The creature didn’t hesitate, it accepted his challenge head on. In defiance of its charge the man bellowed once more, sending out the sound of his strength all throughout the city.

  As the creature reached him he acted quickly, wrapping his arms around its torso with all the power within him. Instantly his arms began to burn with a great agony as the creature wailed around trying to free itself from his grasp. In dealing with the pain he clenched his teeth hard enough that he could taste his own blood, a sensation he wasn’t use to. The burning pain the creature’s skin filled him with weakened him greatly as he struggled to lift it off the ground. He knew that the anguish was too crippling for him to get the elevation he needed to ascend the city wall. If he couldn’t jump over it he would smash through it and the body of the dragon heart would be his battering ram. The creature continued to struggle in his grip, but he knew the toll holding it was taking on him. He couldn’t allow his grip to weaken even in the slightest, because that’s all the creature would need to free itself.

  He ran towards the wall ensuring that the dragon heart’s head and shoulders took the brunt of the impact. It was an impressive first strike, it was enough to momentarily make the creature stop jerking around. But the wall’s face remained without blemish and so the man struck again. This time the impact resounded all throughout the wall, creating a sound like the grumbling of an awakened angry giant. But the face remained without a crack while his arms continued to burn. Just so he could breathe easier he spat the blood out of his mouth, watching as it fell upon the creature and instantly became steam. A third run at the wall finally created a crack. It wasn’t much but it was enough to help the man fight through the pain. The forth collision with the wall caused debris to descend. But it was like a trickle of rain and the man wanted an all-out storm of destruction.

  His tactic wasn’t complicated but it was proving effective, the blunt force was taking its toll on the creature. But even still the man was getting the worst of the pain. He tried three more times in quick succession, doing his best to ignore the agony that plagued his arms. Of the three times he noticed the cracks getting both bigger and deeper. He just had to hold on and not loosen his grip. His body was now demanding that he let go of the creature, the pain had become too much to take. Knowing his body might give out on him he made sure he got a better run up to the wall this time around. Just before impact he bellowed again as if the sound was a way to summon more strength from within. His tactic worked, the thick wall finally gave way to his battering ram. He could feel a rainstorm of debris fall around him but luckily not on him. The hole was wide enough for him to force the creature through it but small enough that the entire wall didn’t collapse, something he was grateful for.

  On the other side of the wall he could instantly feel the change in climate. Feeling that his arms were about to give out on him the man threw the creature as hard as he could. It didn’t fall far, which was disturbing, his once great strength had lessened greatly. Looking down at his arms he could see the damage that had been done, the red of blisters had been replaced by the blackest scorches he had ever seen. His skin looked like a pig that had been roasted to the point of breaking into ash. It was the price he had to pay to get the dragon heart out of the city. It was here, in the unforgiven cold of Shillvii, that he had the best chance of slaying it.

  Without the high walls of the city for protection the low winds of Shillvii danced upon his scorched skin easing the burning sensation. He hoped that they would do the same to the creature, that its eternal heat would be cooled. He could tell that the ice and wind was affecting the dragon heart as it began rolling around on the ground, trying to get away from the cold. A turn of its head focused it back upon the man, the one who had brought it to this miserable place. As it stood up the man glanced at his hands once more wondering if the sacrifice had been too great. He doubted that even in Shillvii such damaged weapons would be effective on their own.

  Ensuring the dragon heart always stayed in the corner of his vision, he quickly looked for something, anything that could be used as an effective weapon. Finding not so much as a good-sized stone his eyes fell back upon the creature. It was staring right at him, the blood that covered it was clearly still quite hot, but it was beginning to simmer in place of boil. The cold was weakening the creature but not at a fast enough rate. He had to keep it in Shillvii, if it got back to the city there was no way he could force it back into the underworld made of ice. It moved towards him, one way or another this struggle was coming to an end.

  Frustration filled him, he had the perfect battlefield to slay this creature but no weapon to complete the task. Desperation spurred him on, with nothing left to lose he drove both of his fists down into the ice. Using his own body weight for extra leverage he had taken to one knee as the ice froze over his hands, trapping them into the ground. This was a dangerous tactic, it had taken him many moons to train his body to deal with both Shillvii ice as well as dragon flame. It was always a very delicate balance between the two warring sides, but his actions now had plunged them both into an all-out melee. The effects made all of his senses fall into chaos, he could smell flowers he could see cows in the sky, he could taste honey milk, he could hear the ocean, he could feel leaves. His body was struggling to deal with the change from extreme hot to freezing cold.

  He kept his eyes focused on the dragon heart, urging his senses to normalize, to remind them of why he needed to survive, why he needed to have control of them. The creature now had begun to deal with the cold better, its steps becoming focused and graceful once more. He still could see the cows in the sky and the smell of flowers still filled his nostrils. But he had to claim control over his body once more and he had to do it now, otherwise he was nothing more than a defenseless target.

  His fingers no longer felt like they were grabbing grass, they were numb, this was good but time was proving a bigger enemy than the dragon heart. The creature moved its hand into a fist appearing as if it was going to return the favor of decapitation. One by one the cows disappeared, but he could still see a few of them grazing on invisible grass in the night sky. He opened his mouth and summoned a bellow, it was loud and powerful, at least his throat was under his control. Soon the taste of honey milk was replaced by the taste of blood. His own vein water had never tasted so good before.

  Finally the sounds of the ocean gave way to cracking ice with only a few feet between the two foes. Some of the ice broke away from the ground, remaining frozen around each of his hands. It looked like a pair of hungry boulders sucking upon his fists. At the last moment possible he thrust his fist forward, meeting the strike of his enemy straight on. It was a violent encounter but what encounter on this night hadn’t been? Shillvii ice and pure dragon flame collided, with the ice getting the better of it. The dragon heart stumbled back, the high whistle it made momentarily becoming a screech. The sound was like freshly spilled blood to the man, who then became like a hungry wolf.

  Standing up he drove his ice-covered fist into the dragon heart, once again enjoying the sound of its screech. He looked like a boxer who had lost the last 11 rounds and with only one round left had decided to try an all or nothing victory. With each powerful blow the dragon heart stumbled but the man also noticed that the ice boulders were shrinking. The sheer heat of the creature was still overwhelming, his newly created weapons wouldn’t last forever. He had to make every strike count, knowing he wouldn’t have the strength to forge more weapons. Much like he had done to get through the wall he was relying on
blunt force, hoping it would be enough to destroy the creature once and for all. He kept up the attack, ensuring that each blow was in quick succession, he had to keep it dazed, he couldn’t allow it a single counter attack.

  The blows were hurting the dragon heart but its outer shell still didn’t break while the boulders were getting smaller. He had struck it two dozen times but it continued to stand, its screeching still filled with life. Demanding of his body to find the strength necessary he landed a particularly powerful blow, finally sending the creature off of its feet. He didn’t let up, if he couldn’t send this creature to the underworld the traditional way he would literally pound it so deep into the ground the underworld would open up before him.

  The ice boulders now looked more like large stones around his fists as the heat of the creature was starting to effect him. Even surrounded by powerful ice he could feel sweat stinging at his eyes. But he refused to even blink, worried if he let his guard down the creature would go on the offensive. Slowly the blows were driving the creature into the ground, inch by hard won inch. Violent groans like the growls of a beast escaped his lips, his whole body working to discover more strength. Pain was devouring the numbness in his hands, as the layer of ice was becoming thinner with each blow. The creature continued to screech and stubbornly its outer shell remained intact. Yet the man continued on, doing his best to ignore the pain. He had driven the creature a good 7 feet into the ground and still its heat fended off the ice.

  Amongst the attack he heard the sound of ice cracking, the layer of it around his fists was weakening. His growls began to merge into one returning to an all mighty bellow. As he raised his right hand he could feel the ice beginning to slip away from it. This attack would be the last, his final chance to destroy the dragon heart once and for all. His body seemed to understand this, taking every piece of power it could and sending it to his right arm. Continuing the all mighty bellow he drove his fist down, the impact so great that all of Shillvii shook for a moment. The bellow was carried by the quake, echoing a thousand times through the land of ice.

  He could feel the intense heat attack his fist as a new legion of pain surged through his arm. But the pain was worth it, the strike not only broke the outer shell it exploded the creature’s head, like a hammer to an egg. Finally there was silence, the sweet soundlessness of victory. The dragon heart was finally slain. The screech of the creature was gone and soft heavy breaths had replaced his own bellow. He watched as the Shillvii ice finally claimed the corpse of the dragon heart, its heat no longer able to keep the ice at bay. The man forced himself out of the small crater of his own making, not wanting to suffer the fate of the corpse.

  The victory had cost him more than just injury, he could feel the cold infecting him. He had used too much energy and strength, the dragon flame inside of him was on the brink of utter defeat. He had to get back to the dragon’s corpse, he had to claim the fire sack and return his body to its delicate balance. He did his best to ignore how stiff his limbs were getting, how hard they were becoming to move.

  When he walked back through the hole in the wall he was met with another choir of gasps. The soldiers had stood in a stunned silence watching his struggle with the dragon heart in its entirety. He could feel the tension in the air, no doubt the soldiers were very weary of what he might do. They had nothing to worry about, he hadn’t saved the city just so he could destroy it himself. In truth the soldiers were grateful, they were silent not because of fear but because of awe. They couldn’t have saved the city, but he did and it was something they would never forget.

  He moved to the dragon corpse, specifically where the neck had been severed. It was the ideal place to claim the fire sack from. What normally would’ve taken him a few seconds, took a few minutes, there wasn’t much strength left in his body. But he was sure the fire sack would change that. Finally he felt it give way, it was covered in blood and entrails, sickeningly reminding him of a new born baby plucked from the pelvis of a corpse. He didn’t bother to wipe the blood off, the fire sack didn’t have to be clean to serve its purpose.

  To the soldiers of the city the fire sack actually didn’t look that much different to the giant leather sacks the shop keeps used to carry their goods in. The man didn’t devour it right away, the act was ghastly and frankly the people of the city had seen enough atrocities on this night. He slung it over his shoulder and could already feel its immense warmth.

  “Hear me,” he said loudly, turning to face the city. “Feast….”Feast upon the dragon, for its flesh is delicious when cooked right. That is what he was going to say until he saw something that brought him to silence. A mother and a young child standing hand in hand only about ten feet before him.

  “Arrdum,” Elheria said somberly. She hadn’t seen him in 15 years, she hadn’t ever wanted his warmth, children never needed that kind of warmth, but she had always valued his company. She never would have thought that the friendly fresh face boy of her memories would become such an extraordinary example of manhood.

  “Elheria,” he replied, his own tone just as somber.

  The power of memory shocked him as well, she had become a striking woman, the kind that would turn the head of any man and certain women.

  She didn’t know what to make of it, this man had decapitated a dragon and driven the creature into an icy grave but seemed perplexed in her presence.

  “Is that your son?” he asked, his voice far more vulnerable than normal.

  “Yes,” she said, feeling a little perplexed herself. “This is Herial.”

  He looked down at the boy, noticing that he was now holding his mother’s hand tighter.

  “Hello Herial,” Arrdum said, trying to make his voice as soft and welcoming as possible.

  Herial didn’t know what to do, a part of him wanted to go over and hug this man for killing the dragon and saving his mother and him. But another part couldn’t shake the image of how this man had killed the dragon and slew the creature that sprang from it.

  “Hello,” Herial managed to say with diverted eyes.

  “Is that your Mull Man Elheria?” Arrdum asked, pointing to the doll that Herial held tightly. Elheria needed a moment to register the question, the entire conversation felt quite surreal.

  “No, that is his,” she said, after having not seen Arrdum for 15 years the question felt a little strange.

  “I see,” he replied as he stared at the tiny rag doll. His eyes wandered back to Elheria’s embracing the vision of them for a long moment.

  “Take care,” he said before turning back to the dragon’s corpse. Using his bare hand he ripped off a juicy piece of meat from the dragon’s corpse, his stomach was hungry for more than just dragon flame.

  He had reached the hole in the wall when Elheria’s words stopped him.

  “Arrdum wait!” she said frantically.

  He did what was asked of him turning to face her.

  She had so many questions in her mind that it was difficult to listen to any of them clearly. One thought soon did become clear, the fact that Arrdum had saved Herial and her lives.

  “Thank you for saving us,” she said.

  “You’re most welcome, be sure not to let the dragon meat go to waste, there is enough meat there to feed the entire city.”

  He smiled and she found herself smiling back, until he turned away from her.

  “Arrdum please wait,” she said, her tone still frantic.

  Patiently he turned back around to face her. She was so confused, the memory of the day Arrdum had left played out in her mind. She had thought he had left because he was scared of the dragon that had flown overhead. But now that didn’t seem likely considering his immense strength. Or maybe that was the reason why he had become so strong, because he was ashamed that he had fled from the dragon all those years ago and had dedicated his life to hunting them down.

  “Why did you leave 15 years ago?” She could have been more tactful, but ultimately that was the biggest question she wanted answered.


  “Do you remember what happened that day when the dragon flew overhead?” he asked simply.

  Of course she did, that was a day she would never forget.

  “Do you remember what you lost that day?” he asked when she hadn’t answered him.

  She thought carefully trying to play out the memory in her mind as clearly as she could.

  “Do you remember the promise I made to you?” he asked.

  A gasp fled from her lips as the revelation fell upon her like a collapsed mountain. Herial looked up into his mother’s eyes worried by the astonishment in them, as he could feel her hand go limp in his.

  “You have spent the last fifteen years in Shillvii looking for my Mull Man?” her voice was incredibly weak, the idea that Arrdum had spent so many years in the underworld made of ice because of a lost doll made her knees tremble. But there was no other explanation, on that day fifteen years ago the wind of the dragon’s wings had taken the doll from her arms, carrying it into the depths of Shillvii. She now remembered that Arrdum had made her that promise, that he would return the doll to her. It had almost become lost to memory, she was so frightened on that day that until right then the dragon had dominated her remembrance.

  It took her a moment to realize that Arrdum was nodding, the confirmation that that was the truth sent her mind into another haze of surrealism. He had only just begun to turn when she gained enough of herself to say, “You don’t need to keep that promise!”