Skylantern Dragons and the Monsters of Mundor

by Scott Taylor

  Cougar Chuko picked up the pouch of money and smiled, licking his fangs with delight. This plan sounded delicious and the money looked so appealing. His employer strolled past him, marching into the corridor where a large window greeted him, a window boasting full views of the skies above the planet. The clouds were slow moving, revealing only small flecks of blue beyond. They didn’t call this city Urban Cloud for nothing. It was the technological mystery in a world of medieval castles and magical lands. It was the single paradox to grace the skies of a primitive world. Yet here it existed.

  Malecarjan’s eyes burned red behind the iron recess grating in his visor, between the black void, the grim space where a man’s features might have been more flattering to behold.

  ‘I will have my war’ he uttered. ‘I will have my world. Kardas and his family have their beauty, and condemned us, his creations, to darkness, servitude, and ugliness, ugliness which all men shun. No longer! For when this war is over the snakes shall live in the light and savour the beauty of sweet charm, and know what it is to reign supreme.’

  Cougar Chuko, standing in a shadow, and rubbing his hands together with obsequious glee, coughed to obtain his client’s full attention. Malecarjan did not turn from the view beyond the window, though merely replied,

  ‘Yes? What is it you want?’

  Chuko only smiled a toothy, deferential smile.

  ‘I simply wish to convey our gratitude to one of our most illustrious customers and grant you a free benefit, on the house, as it were.’

  Malecarjan did not turn round. He wasn’t that interested in freebees, to say nothing of Chuko’s irritating toadying nature.

  ‘Oh?’ he said, placing his hands behind his back.

  ‘Yes. We have a room here…’

  ‘I would suspect you have many!’

  The sarcasm was not lost on Chuko as he smiled.

  ‘I realise that, sir…Please allow me to clarify.’

  ‘Then explain quickly! I have little time to squander on gimmicks.’

  ‘My lord, this particular room holds a power, an immense power. A force of supremacy of which you might want to take advantage…’

  ‘I have no idea what it is you are talking about!’

  Malecarjan’s words sounded testy.

  Cougar Chuko decided to take another approach.

  ‘Would you like to rejuvenate your powers?’

  Malecarjan turned and finally regarded the snivelling microbe standing before him.

  ‘My “powers” are potent enough, thank you. I do not need you’re feeble hand-outs!’

  ‘No? Not even from a Skylantern Dragon?’

  This peaked Malecarjan’s attention suddenly.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Skylantern Dragons, your magnificence.’

  ‘They were once the stuff of legend’ Malecarjan permitted himself the luxury of intrigue.

  ‘Indeed. They were capable of bestowing great power upon those they deemed worthy.’

  ‘And why are you bothering to tell me this? These Dragons are merely stories to entertain children. They do not exist.’

  ‘Au contraire.’ Spoke the Head Hunter, finally.

  Chuko opened the palm of his hand to reveal a small aura of light, no larger than a marble. Malecarjan approached the light, his interest peaking suddenly.

  ‘Impossible!’ Malecarjan uttered.

  ‘Improbable…not impossible. But, by no means attainable through unconventional channels. This could be yours, free…of…charge.’

  ‘Show me!’

  Chuko closed his fist, extinguishing the light within, and smiled again. He believed he had won his customer over at last.

  ‘Follow me.’

  Malecarjan felt his blood quicken. The Skylantern Dragons, according to the stories, were vastly formidable. Those who stood in their presence gleaned power for themselves and could wield magic, and accomplish marvellous feats, and practically do anything.

  Malecarjan followed the dealer to the lower level where, in a room that was protected by a lock, the dragons were cautioned to reside. Chuko entered the combination and the lock clicked open, at once making the contents of the storage room accessible. The large metal door swung open automatically.

  The dealer and client both crossed the threshold.

  To his astonishment, Malecarjan noticed the seven orbs which were larger in stature to the one Chuko had previously held in his hand. The globes stood atop seven concentric pedestals.

  ‘Behold the Skylantern Dragons. Imprisoned here for all time.’

  ‘How is this possible?’ Malecarjan asked, inspecting each orb as he stepped into the room.

  ‘Great and powerful magic may not be overwhelmed by a lesser magic, only by science and technology. Here, great magic is imprisoned by science alone…A gift to you, my lord.’

  ‘What do I do?’

  ‘Simply stand in the centre and allow the orbs to fuel you. Remember, this boost is totally free. Further boosts will cost you. Enjoy!’

  Backing out of the room, Chuko left his client to his own devises.

  Malecarjan could see beyond each glorious light which the orbs emitted. He witnessed the dragons in their prisons, screaming to get out. Much of their power had been depleted in the course of profit and gain. Even Malecarjan felt sick to his stomach. However, it did not stop him from taking free advantage of the situation. He waited for a reaction. The orbs glowed brighter than before, and Malecarjan began to realise that something truly remarkable was about to happen.

  One orb grew brighter than all the others. Nothing further happened for a moment, and quickly a bolt of energy, a discharge was passed from one dragon orb to another, then another. It was like a circuit of sorts. Each one passed the power to the other. The last orb fizzled and sparked like it was entering a chain reaction. Malecarjan felt that this was somehow a trick, a Head Hunter ploy to destroy him, but no. Before Lord Malecarjan could do anything the final orb bathed him in energy too potent to be recognised. Chuko had called it a boost. This was more than that. Plumes of energy generated by the captive dragons entered Malecarjan’s muscular frame, satiating him with magic he had never felt in his entire existence.

  The pulse of energy faded gently. As the orb’s connections evaporated Malecarjan merely stood silent, still, watching the power, the fire, like an aura in fact, enveloping his hands, and travelling up his arms. Indeed, his entire body was engulfed. But it felt good! It felt powerful!

  Finally, he walked away from that room, rejuvenated, and feeling extremely potent.

  ◆◆◆

  The guard at the gate saw the horse in the distance approaching at a gallop. It was pouring with rain as night crept in. Prince Fabian had spied the town guarded and surrounded by a large stockade. Digging his heals into the flanks of his steed, he bid the creature go faster. Lightning flashed somewhere in the distance, followed some time later by a faint thunder crash. He came up to the wall and dismounted. A small pigeon hole slid open revealing a pair of mean eyes.

  ‘What’s your purpose here?’ bellowed the guard at the exceedingly damp looking traveller.

  ‘I’m a nomad from the kingdom of Mundor. I am only seeking shelter for the night. I have money.’

  The prince did not wish to reveal his true identity. Thieves and brigands were everywhere. It would be better that they did not learn of his true purpose here.

  ‘Sure, come in!’

  The gates creaked open suddenly. Fabian, feeling very relieved at last, mounted his horse and commanded the creature to advance past the stockade. It didn’t take him long to find suitable stables, a room, and lastly a good hearty meal at one of the lodges in the centre of town.

  The Laughing Duck was probably the most amusing name he had heard in reference to a tavern, but it certainly had a happy atmosphere, with plenty of ale, and ample entertainments. Fools kept the patrons amused with clean as well as dirty jokes.

  When Fabian entered the tavern he walked straight up to the bar where
the innkeeper, a bulky, rotund, and jolly looking man greeted him with a hearty smile.

  ‘Welcome stranger!’ he beamed, placing a well polished pint glass on the bar’s wooden surface. ‘What can I do for you? Is it a drink and a hearty meal yea be needing? We ‘ave only the finest wines from Abril Cann in our cellar as well as the leanest beef this side of Mundor! Or if you are looking for a room, we have two vacancies left!’

  ‘Sounds fine, thank you’ the prince uttered, feeling his stomach growl.

  ‘Very good, sir! So that will be a meal and a room. Single…? Double? I bet you are a hit with the ladies, eh!’ the innkeeper winked. ‘Or if not, we have a selection of girls you may be interested in. No?’

  Fabian didn’t know whether the innkeeper was indeed an innkeeper or a pimp. The offer however wasn’t remotely tempting. Casting his eyes along the room and judging by the girls present, there really wasn’t much of a temptation.

  Fabian’s attentions went back to the innkeeper.

  ‘Just a single room and a meal please.’

  ‘Okay. Would that be for just one night?’

  ‘Just one, thank you.’

  ‘Good…good.’

  The innkeeper wrote it all down on a piece of paper with a quill.

  ‘What’s the name, please?’

  Fabian thought about the name. He needed a false name and fast. Finally he came up with,

  ‘Smith…Mr. Smith.’

  All right, so it probably wasn’t the most imaginative choice, but it certainly did the trick.

  ‘All right, Mr. Smith. If you’d take a table I’ll get someone to bring you your meal when it’s ready.’

  Taking another look at the room there really didn’t appear to be too many free tables left. There was one, right next to the fire. Taking his leave of the innkeeper, he tried to squeeze by the crowds. People were loud and rowdy. This was probably not as congenial a respite as he had at first suspected, but the food smelled good and that was all he really wanted.

  Once seated, Prince Fabian began to eye certain people in the room. Parked at a distant table, a large man was swathed in a cloak and hood. Fabian looked him up and down nervously. The large stranger had the oddest face he had ever seen. His skin looked hard, and as rough as polished stone. He was indeed very rude in spite of his appearance, since he continued to stare at Fabian for no reason at all.

  The prince paid the stone man no more heed, and simply turned his head to glance at the bar. There was another creature sitting and inspecting him furtively from behind wisps of smoke that emanated from a cigarette holder of sorts. The creature appeared female with large feline eyes and fur, with a tom cat tail that suddenly craned upwards from the concealment of a short leather skirt.

  Feeling a little bit like the outsider, Fabian chose not to notice.

  ◆◆◆

  Just a short distance from the inn was the old church grounds. At night it was a very foreboding place to enter, particularly the mausoleum with its ground vapours and tombstones depicting monsters and gargoyles of every description. You see, the people in this corner of the world had a ritual which was centred around a belief that anyone who had committed a serious crime in life should not, under any circumstances, be buried in the same grounds as the innocent. And this Cemetery was a place in which people had been burying their violent criminals for years.

  One such mausoleum was the burial place of the vampire known to many in these parts as Shollom Vi’shiid. In life he was a great magician until one day he decided to follow the dark arts, and discovered that the way to reap men’s souls was through their dreams. But each man had but one soul to give him. Many years ago he had fed himself richly on the essences of every creature in the town, gorging himself like a parasite upon the weak and unsuspecting alike. That was until the day the remaining town’s folk who had not been fed upon decided to band together and take charge of the matter. To cut a very long story short, Shollom Vi’shiid was buried alive for his crimes, crimes that, strangely though this may sound, continued to be committed once in every blue moon.

  That night there was just such a moon as described: full and blue. Stone creaked upon stone as the great mausoleum door slowly opened.

  ◆◆◆

  In the kitchen, the chef mustered up a meal for the patrons of the inn. He was busy stirring up a mixture of herbs with mortar and pestle. He stopped suddenly, feeling the room rapidly dropping in temperature. He knew his master was coming. The pupils of his eyes quickly drained of colour, as did the pigmentation of his skin. At this point the inn keeper entered the kitchen, joining the chef. Both men had been swayed by the evil in this town. Both men unfortunately had succumbed to the evil that was about to make an appearance.

  ‘They are here’ he said in a subdued voice, ‘seven new strangers.’

  The transparent entity appeared like a white vapour that undulated and swelled. That evil had made its sudden entry. The kitchen turned cold, as cold as hell, and as prisoners the chef and inn keeper were in thrall to its power.

  ‘Take him his meal’ the voice from the entity commanded in a low raspy tone, ‘and then I shall relish mine.’

  The chef emptied a bottle of a strange blue liquid over the meal, and then handed the plate to the inn keeper.

  In the tavern Fabian waited patiently.

  On the stage a troop of acrobats and fools kept the patrons entertained. Two actors, a small man, and a fat woman argued, busy enacting marital bliss, while a fool, busy trying to cheer the pair up, was tripping over his own feet, and generally making a nuisance of himself. The crowd laughed.

  Fabian was handed his meal. Tears were rolling down his eyes through watching the spectacle. He couldn’t exactly remember when he had laughed so much.

  After the entertainers had ended and once Fabian had finished his meal, and polished off a few glasses of house wine he retired to his room. He was starting to feel a little light headed. He managed to get his key in the lock. Flinging the door wide, he staggered in, not bothering to undress. He collapsed on the bed. The ceiling spun round in that usual nauseating fashion, so much so he clenched his eyes shut to stop his stomach from churning too much.

  Back inside the inn the stone man looked round at the feline woman sitting at the bar, nodded, and then rose, shifting his weight over to the window where another tall being sat, holding a device much like a computer pad.

  ‘Was that Fabian?’ the tall stranger asked. ‘Have you identified him yet?’

  The stone man nodded silently.

  ‘Then it would be a good time for our man to show his full colours. Send word to the others. We make a move tonight.’

  The tall, bulky man of stone rose, leaving a slight indentation in the bench as he did so.

  Chapter 6

  Fabian dreamt of his own comfortable quarters back home. He imagined the room where he used to sleep as a child. His mother would sit on the corner of the bed and tell him stories. He missed his mother dearly, especially in times such as these when he was all alone, or pressured into travelling solo. Back home, he kept a small framed portrait of his mother by his bedside, a reminder that he was loved. He thought of her more and more, as time endeavoured to replace her dear memory with a father’s constant boorish and dispassionate nature. Though Prince Fabian held on to the belief that this woman who had once been a major part of his life was somehow watching him from someplace distant, guiding him, and making him strong.

  He dreamed of when he was just 14 years of age. It was the day his mother took him on the hunt. She was a tall, handsome woman dressed in a leather tunic with a sash of crimson, and sporting a sword that was sheathed at her side. She looked at her 14 year-old son and smiled with pride to see her only child mounting a horse, looking every bit the man she suspected he’d one day become. Little did she imagine however that that day was near, nearer than she would have liked.

  The snow was dense and the ground was fairly blanketed. The wind was cold as the trodden earth. In the distance a younger P
rince Fabian could see the mountain range, snow capped and full of peril. But he was safe. His mother was present with her sword and a small pack of hounds flanked them, their noses press to the mantled earth, catching the scent of mountain wolves. A number of these predators had previously come down from their dwellings to find food in the valley near Mundor and had taken flight with a number of livestock, snatched straight from the farmer’s field.

  ‘Are you ready, son?’ she asked, her eyes flashing with passion.

  ‘You bet!’ the 14 year old boy answered with a surge of excitement.

  The queen jabbed her stirrups into the flanks of her mount, and Fabian watched as the beast charged off.

  ‘Yah! Yah!’ the boy shouted, goading his steed. The hounds followed, matching speed as the two horse riders charged towards the mountain range.

  Hunting upon his father’s ancestral lands was an adventure, though quests and excitement came quite freely in those days. King René was carefree and the boy prince was a contented soul.

  The prince was not afraid of the wolves at first. In truth he’d never seen one. His mother had told him stories, grizzly yarns that only served to peak the youngster’s imagination and fill him with enthusiasm for the hunt. And this was his first.

  As the two approached the mountain Fabian noticed a strange conglomeration of metal and wires peeking out of the snow. When he asked what it was his mother simply replied that it was a remnant from a time long ago, from a period before the great transformation of the world, when men relied on a thing they called science to perform the most simplest of tasks. The boy slowed his horse to take a much closer detailed look.

  ‘What is it for?’

  The mother looked at her son and wondered too as to the strange looking instrument’s function.

  ‘I do not know’ she answered honestly. ‘Our history is something long forgotten. It is unknown what these things were used for. They are but relics of an age now completely alien to us.’