She had loved her mama and papa so. It broke her heart to think they hated her so much that they’d give her away to these horrid men. Her belly ached from so much Telling. She wept the tears of the damned until exhaustion claimed her and then slept like the dead upon the moist, dank dirt of the hidden grotto.
11
Kael’s Choice
The crow paced back and forth in the misty morning light at the mouth of the grotto, the thin veil of falling water like a crystal curtain behind it.
“I cannot stay,” the crow said. “I must return to keep an eye on that loathsome warrior. But I want you to return to the wizard’s quarters at midday. Bring the girl’s head with you. Perhaps that will convince her guardian to comply.”
The crow flew out of the cave and Blugort turned to stare at the wee, sleeping child. She was such a pretty thing. It’d be a shame t’kills her. But his master had ordered it done.
He stood above the child, his sword in hand. She might fetch a handsome reward from Haglin, the king of the ogres, for Haglin was always desirin’ pretty young girls for his enjoyments. But the master wanted her dead. He wanted her head as proofs t’that blasted warden that the child was dead. Blugort paced in a circle, scratching his forehead. He didn’t want t’kills her. But he couldn’t disobey his master now, coulds he?
He knelt beside the girl, brushing the hair away from her ears. They was trollie ears, all right. No doubts about it.
Elva’s eyes fluttered open and beneath her gag, she shrieked, shrinking away from the blastie’s touch.
“Ye haves a right t’be scared, little one,” Blugort said, grasping her chin in his brown hand, forcing her to look at him. “But ye won’t die just yet.” He laid down his sword and loosened the tie of her nightdress.
“Ye must promise t’behaves and ye won’t get hurt. Can ye be a good girl for me?”
Elva didn’t know what this awful little man wanted, but she didn’t want him to hurt her, so bit her lip and nodded compliance.
Blugort untied the linen bonds from her wrists, then slipped the nightdress up over her head, leaving her clad only in her thin pantaloons. Tossing the nightdress over his shoulder, he bound her tiny arms once more.
The chill of the moist cave prickled her skin and she shivered. Why had he taken her nightdress away?
“Ye mights be a bit young for Haglin’s tastes,” Blugort said, looking her over. “But I thinks he’d takes ye, nonetheless. Not much different than a pixie.” He stood up, clutching the nightdress in one hand and his sword in the other. “Ye should be grateful, child. He decided he wants ye dead now, and I’ve just saved yer life.” He disappeared into the troll hole, leaving Elva alone.
Her head swirled about in a black eddy. Who wanted her dead now? Was it Papa? No, not Papa! But who else? Oh, her papa never ever wanted her back ever again. He wanted her dead instead.
Neither Papa nor Mama wanted her anymore. They had both stopped loving her and had gotten rid of her. How could they do that? What had she done? Her belly cramped from all the suppressed Tellings. She curled into a ball and began to cry again, hating her papa and hating her mama and hating herself most of all because she was just an ugly old troll that nobody wanted and her papa wanted her dead because, just like her real mother, she was too ugly for him to bear. The hurt in her heart felt a thousand times worse than the time when her baby brother Devon died or even when Granpapa died, and it felt like a big empty hole opened up inside, filled only with the terrible pulse of her Telling place.
Again, the tears flowed from her eyes and she trembled in the darkness, the big, sad hole inside growing bigger and bigger with every tear. Finally, everything sank down and disappeared inside it.
When Blugort re-emerged from the troll hole, the bundled nightdress in his hands was soaked with blood.
“Don’t ye ever say that a trollie isn’t good for somethin’,” he told her, clambering up the steep incline to the entrance of the cave. “I’ll be backs for ye later.” He could waste no time if he was to make it to the wizard’s quarters by midday.
Kael was fidgety and restless in and about Fith’s quarters throughout the seemingly endless morning hours. His stomach grumbled but he could not even think about eating. His nerves would not allow it.
Spying the crow as it came to perch high in the branches of the oak above, he sat upon the stoop and pulled the talisman out from beneath his shirt. He held it up in the sunlight, watching it glitter and shine, deliberately taunting the wretched demon in the tree.
In his heart, he knew he would never surrender this stone to the dragon. Instead, he would use it to destroy Ragg, even though he would die in that achievement. But he had no choice, for there would be no honor in the stone’s surrender and Ragg would never succeed in stripping Kael of his honor. Despite Ragg, Fane had managed to die with honor. Kael would do no less.
How many wizards had possessed this crystal, he wondered? How many wizards who lacked the courage to use the stone in the only way it could be used? And they scoffed because a warrior possessed it now, yet only a warrior would have the strength to use it.
He was grateful he had taken the time to kiss Alyn farewell. He should have kissed Lundin and Sashi as well, for he would never see them again. But at least they would grow up with the knowledge that their father had been an honorable man. They would know their father had not surrendered.
He glared up at the crow and the crow glared down at Kael.
“You will die, you miscreant dragon,” Kael whispered. “In the name of the king, I swear it.”
As midday approached, the crow flew down from the tree, taking the form of Gar as it landed upon the ground. He approached Kael warily.
“Blugort is on his way,” Ragg said. “Shall we go inside?”
Kael strode back into Fith’s quarters. He would hold himself in check until he knew Elva was safe. Only then would he make his move.
Ragg motioned Kael to sit at the table while he kept near to the doorway. Just as Kael took his seat, Blugort rushed in and tossed a bundle onto the table.
“Here’s the child,” he said breathlessly. “Or at least what’s lefts o’her.”
As the soggy nightdress landed upon the table, it fell open. Inside the stained cloth laid two pointed ears and a small bloody heart.
Kael lurched back, knocking his chair over as he stood, aghast at the sight. His back against the cold, stone wall, he stood petrified, unable to take his eyes off the spectacle, recognizing the once white nightdress as Elva’s.
Wae, the horror! It might as well have been his own heart ripped from his chest upon that table.
Ragg shook his head, staring at the blastie in disgust. He would deal with his disobedient servant later. He had wanted the girl’s head, not the dismembered remains of some anonymous troll. Blugort may have fooled Kael with this mockery, but not his master.
“Monster,” Kael cried, getting control of his voice once more. “Why did you kill her? She was just a child!”
“The misbegotten child of a fool and a troll,” Ragg said. “It is no loss.”
Kael’s knees buckled and he collapsed beside the table. She would never ride with him again, squealing with joy as they raced across the heath. She would never leap into his arms or tug on his beard. There would be no more stories for Elva.
“She was just a child,” he moaned. “An innocent child.”
“Perhaps you are now aware of the gravity of my intent. I want the crystal and I want it now.”
Kael grasped the stone, feeling the warmth of its vibrant power pulse in his hand. Ragg was too far away, keeping a safe distance. Despite the utter vileness of this deed, Kael knew he could not surrender the power he currently held.
“I will not give it to you,” he growled, forcing himself back to his feet. “I will never give it to you now. Go back to Skur where you belong and forget about this accursed stone.”
“I will not forget what is mine.”
“It is not yours. It is mine, and
I will never surrender it to you.”
“Very well,” Ragg said, stepping out the door. “You are a hard man to convince.”
Blugort followed his master, quite pleased at having pulled it off. He would gets his reward from his master once his master got the crystal, then he would gets a reward from Haglin for the girl as well. Perhaps this long journey hadn’t been for nothin’ after all.
Ragg stepped off the stoop and stopped just beyond the circle of stones surrounding the cottage. Reaching up to stroke the nose of Kael’s gelding, he softly breathed upon it. The horse dropped dead to the ground. Ragg transformed then into a horse himself, and Blugort climbed onto his back as the pair raced westward down the road out of Avar.
In the dimness of Fith’s quarters, Kael gently plucked the bloody nightdress from the table. He pressed it against his breast and collapsed to the floor, unable to hold his tears inside any longer.
“Wae, my poor little rum kinchin. Forgive me, Elva. Forgive me, Fane. I have failed you. I have failed you again.”
What they had done was unthinkable. How could they have killed her? She had done nothing to them. They would not get away with this. They would both pay with their lives.
He stared emptily at the nightdress in his hands. How would he ever break this dreadful news to Alyn? How would she survive the loss of another child?
“Alyn,” he suddenly shouted in terror, leaping back to his feet. Bundling the ears and heart back into the nightdress, he hurried out the door only to be greeted by the sight of his dead horse.
“Waesucks,” he wailed, kneeling beside the animal. “Not you, too. No, not you, too.” He had been a good horse, loyal and obedient. A sturdy charger, as brave in battle as any man.
“Farewell, my friend,” Kael whispered, stroking the animal’s forehead. “You will be missed. I just don’t have time to do it now.”
Kael sped across the village, clutching his precious bundle, oblivious to the curiosity of the villagers. Entering the stable, he demandeed a horse. He had to get home. There was no time to lose.
Alyn removed the bar from the door for her husband when he knocked and shouted outside it. His face was grim and cold and it frightened her.
“Did you find Elva?” she asked anxiously.
He shook his head and grasped her hands. “Come to the barn with me,” he said, leading her down the path and away from the house.
“You did not find her?”
“She is being held captive by the wizard,” he spoke, leading her into the barn, closing the door behind them. “But rest assured, I will get her back.”
Alyn gazed about the barn curiously. “Where is your horse?” She couldn’t recall having seen it outside.
“Don’t worry about the horse, my dear wife. I’ve had a long, weary morning, and only seek some comfort from you. So please, ask me no questions.” Taking her to the center of the barn, he wrapped her into his arms.
“Kael,” she protested, “this is not the time.”
“It is definitely the time. Please, woman, just close your eyes and hold me. I need you.”
The blastie in the rafters above slowly began to lower the noosed rope.
Alyn knew this business with Elva and the wizard had been a strain and she longed to comfort him. If this would ease his mind, she would comply. She had to trust that he had everything well in hand.
Closing her eyes, she leaned against his chest, embracing him. He felt foreign and smelled odd, but she brushed the thought aside. “I love you, Kael. And the strength of our love will get us through this.”
“Of course,” he said, reaching for the noose. Pulling away from the woman, he swiftly slipped the loop over her head and, holding the other end of the rope, Blugort leapt from the rafters.
Alyn jerked upwards.
Ragg drifted up to the rafters, tying off the rope as Alyn struggled and gasped, vainly tugging at the rope around her neck. Her feet kicked at the air, mere inches off the ground.
Ragg floated back to the ground, watching the girl slowly strangle, shaking his head. “It is only your husband’s stubbornness that has killed you,” he said. “Take a good look at this face before you, for you only have him to blame.”
He turned to the blastie and removed the short sword from his baldric.
Alyn’s choked struggles began to wane and the last thing she saw was the visage of her husband standing before her, cutting her dress open before he sank the blade into her belly.
Kael kicked ruthlessly at the flanks of the unfamiliar stallion below him, forcing the beast to top speed. As he turned the animal away from the road at the bridge, he grew alarmed by the sight of the open door on the house. Leaping from the horse, he rushed up the rock-lined path.
“Alyn,” he cried, racing inside. Except for Lundin and Sashi who napped in their beds, the house was empty. He had told her not to open the door. Where had she gone? Why had she disobeyed him?
He rushed back outside and darted behind the house, checking the garden, but the yard was empty. He began to panic.
“Alyn, where are you?” he shouted, making his way back around the house, heading for the barn. “Alyn, answer me!”
He yanked the barn door open and froze.
His strength shattered. He crumpled to the ground, gurgling, unable to make his voice work. Tears gushed from his eyes and ripping pain doubled him over. Hugging himself, he rocked back and forth upon his knees, moaning his horror.
He had failed her, too. He had vowed to protect her and he had failed.
Ragg stepped from the far shadows of the barn and tossed a bloody package to Kael. It plopped into the dirt before him and through his tears he could only stare, speechless and palsied at the sight of the tiny body of the child Alyn had borne.
“Give me the crystal,” Ragg spoke. “No more need to die.”
Kael stared up at the creature disguised as a man—disguised as himself. It had killed Elva and Alyn and his unborn child. It had killed Fane. And it had killed countless others. He could not get close enough to destroy it with his own touch, for the demon was far too wily. It was unconquerable. All he could do now was to protect Lundin and Sashi. They were alone in the house. They were vulnerable. He had to get to them. He had to get to them and keep them in his arms. He had to keep them from Ragg’s reach.
Forcing himself to his feet, he stumbled out of the barn and came to a dead halt upon the pathway as the crow landed before the cottage door. The crow wavered and appeared as Kael once more.
Kael rushed forward, intent upon latching onto the beast.
Ragg waved his hands and Kael was blown backwards, landing in a sprawled heap upon the path.
“You cannot outwit me, you foolish toad,” Ragg thundered. “Surrender the stone and be done with it. Admit your defeat.”
Kael laid upon the ground and glared at the crystal which now rested atop one of the stones that lined the path. Stones laid out by Alyn’s hands. Hands that he would never know the touch of again. Because of Ragg. Because of the crystal.
The pulsating glow within it radiated in the sunlight like the heartbeat of a living thing. How he loathed it and the curse it had brought. Its beauty was terrible and its very presence brought nothing but destruction. He could not use it to kill the dragon. And he could not surrender it. The impossibility of his situation left him feeling completely impotent.
“Blugort,” Ragg shouted. “Come and bring the children out to me.”
“No,” Kael wailed. In an instant of blind fury he grabbed a stone from the path.
Ragg screamed, “Stop!” leaping forward as Kael slammed the stone down upon the crystal.
The crystal shattered into a million blue sparkles.
Ragg exploded in a shower of blue smoke and gleaming black scales.
The force of the explosion blew Kael against the barn, knocking him unconscious.
As the smoke settled, Blugort crept from his hiding within the barn, sneaking through the carpet of dragon scales. When he reached th
e road, he began to run as fast as his legs would carry him.
In the village of Avar, outside the stable, Fisk had just lifted himself into the saddle when the air suddenly jounced, nearly knocking him back to the ground. The stable walls rattled with the thunderous reverberation. Cam scuttled out of the stable, attempting to calm his frightened mare.
“What was that?” Cam asked.
Fisk remounted, shaking his head. “It came from the direction of Fead.”
The two warriors sped westward on their steeds to investigate the source of the blast, watching in stupefied awe as, across the valley, the misty clouds surrounding Skur violently swirled and slowly began to dissipate, revealing a peak centuries hidden from sight.
Along the road they passed a terrified blastie who shouted over and over again, “He’s killed the dragon! The warden’s done him in. The dragon is dead. The dragon is dead.”
Leaving the blastie be, the two warriors raced for Kael’s quarters.
In the golden evening twilight, with the aid of his fellows, Kael laid his wife and child along with Elva’s bloody bundled nightdress into a grave upon the hillock behind his home, beside that of the infant Devon. A nightingale whistled a mournful melody which carried on the evening breeze, scented with a crisp scent of rye. These things Kael did not notice. He paid no heed to the aches of his bruised body, too lost within the depths of loss. Despite the presence of his fellow warriors, Kael wept.
The darkening air enclosed like a shroud. In the setting sun, the distant snow-covered peak of Skur glistened in fading, subtle hues of pink and gold. And as Kael gently covered the body of Alyn and the children with the cool and silent earth, within the woodland to the east, Blugort carried Elva north toward the wilderland realm of Haglin.
Part Three
The Dragonslayer
The Legacy of Skur: Volume One Page 28
