The Dragon Chronicles

by Ellen Campbell

  In my world of Algardis, that land is called Sahalia with references to it running throughout all of my high fantasy works. Sahalia will become more than a secondary reality; it will be a fully-fledged society with the publication of the new Algardis series.

  You can find out more about that series on my website www.terahedun.com. Feel free to drop by on my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/terahedunauthor and say hello on Twitter at www.twitter.com/tedunwrites.

  Thank you for supporting independent fantasy fiction.

  Dragon Play

  by Ted Cross

  “DON’T BE A CRYBABY! We’re going to be heroes!”

  “I’m not crying, Anja,” Birgit said, swiping a hand across her eyes, “but this is not fun any more.”

  Anja looked incredulous. “Nothing we have ever done and nothing we will ever do in our lives will be more fun than what we are going to do. Ask the boys.”

  Birgit glanced at the other two members of their group. Halfdan was pudgy and dark-haired, and being the shortest of the group he always tried to be the boldest.

  Flame-haired Fridrik, at thirteen, was eldest of the four, tall and lithe—the love of Birgit’s eleven-year-old life. He was also gentle and kind, which made it that much harder for Birgit that he only had eyes for Anja.

  “This is going to be great!” Halfdan said, picking his way up the rocky slope.

  Fridrik gave Birgit a reassuring smile. “Anja, when you said we were going to the dragon’s lair, we thought you meant playing a game, not actually going. You know it’s forbidden to go anywhere near this place.”

  “You’ll get us all killed,” Birgit murmured.

  Anja of the golden hair was the chieftain’s daughter, the pride of their clan and the natural leader of their small gang despite having lived a mere ten summers. She ignored their complaints and paused to examine a small parchment. “It’s not much farther. Just there, see? Around that shoulder.” She pointed at a spot on the mountain where a cliff face dropped down to meet the rocky incline they had been climbing since morning.

  “I always thought the entrance was on the other side,” Halfdan said.

  “It is,” Anja said. “It really would be stupid to walk right into the entrance of a dragon’s den.”

  “Then what are we doing?” Fridrik said.

  Anja pointed again. “Once we get up there, I’ll show you.”

  Birgit scowled and mumbled under her breath. She was used to Anja coming up with ever more daring games, but this one went too far. Far beneath them the foothills of the mountain ended abruptly at the slate-colored sea. Their village was hidden from view behind a crag. “We should turn back,” she said and glanced at Fridrik again, hoping to see agreement in his eyes. Whatever she felt about Anja’s plan, she wouldn’t leave without Fridrik.

  He kept climbing, refusing to meet her eyes. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”

  Birgit looked at the sun and decided it was past the lunch hour. She was tired and had a bloody scrape on her left knee from climbing over rocks all morning.

  It took half an hour more before the ground leveled out and they came to a flat spot near the sheer cliff wall. Anja directed the boys to remove scree from a small area near the wall so they could sit down and have lunch. Halfdan laid out a thin blanket. Birgit set her pack down and pulled out two flasks of weak ale, cheese, bread, and several apples. Fridrik used his knife to carve slices of cheese and bread.

  Tired from the climb, they ate in silence despite their curiosity to hear Anja’s big secret. When Fridrik swallowed down the last of his meal, he took a swig of ale and said, “All right, let’s hear it.”

  Anja put down the apple she was munching and pulled her knees up to her chest. She chewed her lip and examined each of her three companions before speaking. “All our lives we’ve heard the tales of the dragon.”

  Birgit nodded. Of course they had; it was the most popular story told around the clan fire pits. Eight centuries ago the great ebony wyrm appeared out of myth and decimated all of the tribes of the region before claiming a local mine as its lair. It hibernated for years on end but came forth every decade or so to satiate its hunger.

  “And Kathkalan?” Anja looked pointedly at Halfdan.

  Halfdan grinned. “The greatest warrior ever!”

  “What’s your point?” Fridrik said to Anja.

  Anja looked around at all of them again before replying. “When he went in there to slay the dragon, he brought Aivgaifa with him.”

  “Didn’t seem to help much,” Birgit grumbled. Aivgaifa was a talisman of incredible and unsurpassed power, embodied in the form of a silver armband that had been stolen from druids across the sea. The powerful luck magic that suffused their clan as long as they possessed Aivgaifa had made it the strongest clan on the island. The clan elders believed that all of their misfortunes had come from the loss of this artifact. Their once-powerful tribe was now relegated to living in the shadow of the dragon.

  “You don’t know that it was the band that failed him,” Anja said. “Imagine if we could bring Aivgaifa back to our village.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with dreams,” Fridrik said, “but it’s not heroic to be dead.”

  Anja held up the scrap of parchment she had been consulting during their climb. “I found this rolled up in a crumbling scroll that had fallen behind a shelf in the shaman’s library.”

  “What were you doing there?” Birgit said. “Bragi doesn’t allow—”

  “It’s a mess. I was cleaning it for him.”

  Anja’s eyes looked shifty to Birgit. “You’re crazy to steal from him.”

  “It’s not stealing. I’m going to put it back. But look!” She flattened the parchment on the blanket. “This is a map of the old mines. They were much more extensive than the stories ever told.” She drew a finger over dark lines and symbols on the parchment. “There’s the main entrance and the great hall. Lots of small passages lead off from it. And here, where we’re sitting now, is a back entrance. See?”

  Birgit scanned the cliff face. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Because it’s hidden,” Anja said, rolling her eyes. “We know it’s here; we can find it!”

  “Let’s say you’re right, Anja,” Fridrik said. “What then? Crawl around in pitch-black passages while a dragon hunts us down? No thanks!”

  Birgit nodded in agreement.

  “You’re not thinking,” Anja said. “The dragon is sleeping.”

  “You don’t know that,” Birgit said. “The elders have been warning that it is past time for it to wake again.”

  “When it wakes, we’ll know it,” Anja said, “but for now it still sleeps. We were all very small when it last attacked our village. Fridrik, you are the only one old enough to have memories of it. I remember what you told me.”

  “So?”

  “You said it was enormous. That it blocked the sun and filled the sky.”

  “All the more reason not to go in there,” Fridrik said.

  Anja shook her head at him. “Don’t you see? It has grown huge over the centuries. When it cleared out the mines, it was a slender wyrm, but now it can’t fit in these smaller passageways. It uses the large entrance doors and remains in the great hall. It’s safe to search all the rest.”

  “You’re gambling with our lives,” Birgit said. “I’ve seen rats and mice squeeze through holes so tiny it seems impossible they could fit through. Maybe the dragon can do the same.”

  “Anja,” Fridrik said. “Even if you’re right, the echoes of our movement and the torches we must carry would surely wake the beast.”

  “We have the map,” Anja said. “Let’s find the entrance, if we can. We should be safe through all of these tiny passages. When we get close, I’ll go on alone if I must.”

  Fridrik looked at Birgit and she saw the doubt etched in his eyes. She walked to the overlook and tried again to spy their village. Turning to Fridrik, she said, “We’re going to be punished terribly. If we leave now we may be
able to make it home before full dark.”

  Fridrik looked at Anja and Halfdan, who were searching the cliff face for signs of the hidden door. He looked at the remains of their meal. “Let us pack this up.”

  Birgit frowned at his evasion but knelt to help him clean and pack. There was a sudden rumble of stone grinding on stone.

  “Ha! I found it!” Halfdan cried.

  Birgit spun about to see Anja fling her arms around Halfdan. A small square hole had opened in the cliff face.

  “How did you do that?” Fridrik murmured in awe.

  “Here,” Halfdan said, indicating a knob of stone. “I pressed this in and it moved, then the door opened.”

  Fridrik’s eyes widened. “Who could build such a thing? Our best craftsmen could never...”

  “Get the torches!” Anja cried, her smile wider than Birgit had ever seen.

  Birgit took two steps toward the dark maw and stared into the void. A faint musty breeze issued from the darkness. “No. We can’t go in there. Don’t you understand?”

  “You go on home, Birgit,” Anja said. “Tell my father nothing. Tell him we went off on our own to play.”

  “Don’t do this, Anja. You’ll be killed.” Birgit turned to Fridrik. “Please don’t let her do this.”

  Fridrik didn’t seem to hear her. He was lighting tinder with his flint, a torch at the ready.

  “Go on, Birgit,” Halfdan said. “This is a venture for the bold. We’ll be remembered forever!”

  “You’ll be dead forever,” Birgit hissed. She stood helplessly while the others readied torches, candles, rope, and other supplies from the packs Anja had insisted they prepare yesterday.

  Fridrik stood near the entrance and shoved his torch inside.

  Birgit went to stand with him. “Why, Fridrik? I believed you wiser than this.”

  Fridrik gave her a strange look. “No one has seen this in centuries. You saw the map. We can explore a bit and be safe. I want to see what’s in there. Aren’t you curious at all?”

  “There’s a dragon in there.”

  He nodded. “I have no intention of going anywhere near the dragon.”

  “Promise?”

  “I swear. Look, let’s humor them for a little while. See what we can find in the first rooms. I bet they get scared and want to leave within the hour.”

  Birgit tried to force a smile but failed. “I don’t know if I can go in there. It’s like the mouth to Hel.”

  Fridrik smiled at her. “I’ll hold your hand and lead the way. You’ll be scared at first, but when it’s over you’ll see how fun it was.”

  Anja joined them, followed by Halfdan. “I’m going first.” Without waiting for a reply, she shoved her torch in ahead of her and stalked forward. Halfdan didn’t hesitate to follow.

  Fridrik squeezed Birgit’s hand and drew her after him. As she ducked to enter the passageway, Birgit closed her eyes and held them shut for several steps, trusting Fridrik to lead her safely. Already smoke from the torches was filling the small stone passage, making them cough. She tried to remember how far the first line had looked on the map but couldn’t.

  “How far does it go?” she asked, her voice sounding hollow and shaky.

  Fridrik’s face was orange in the flickering torchlight. “Judging from the map, I’d say—”

  There was a loud click. Behind them the stone door rumbled down, cutting off the sunlight as it slammed shut.

  “Gods!” Birgit heard herself shriek.

  “It moved under my foot!” The voice was Halfdan’s. “I triggered something.”

  “Step on it again!” Anja cried.

  “I’m trying. It’s not doing anything now.”

  “Birgit, you’re hurting my hand!” Fridrik whispered.

  Birgit tried to lessen her grip. “We’re all going to die now,” she moaned.

  “That’s not going to help us,” Fridrik said. “There must be a way to open the door again.” He squeezed by her in the narrow passage and led her back to the closed door. “Help me! Feel all around. If you find any irregularities in the stone, press them.”

  Halfdan had returned and held his torch up to provide light. Fridrik handed his torch to Halfdan so he could use both hands to search. Birgit looked back and saw Anja’s pale face, grim in the flickering light.

  * * *

  Fridrik couldn’t judge how much time had passed. Still he went on, frantically searching the walls, the floor, even the ceiling. He pressed and shoved at the unrelenting cold stone long after the others had given up. At last he had to admit defeat. He put his back to the wall and slid down onto his haunches. “We must find another way.”

  He held out a hand to accept a torch back from Halfdan, then looked at Birgit. She sat on the floor and gazed into nothingness. Fridrik felt terrible, knowing it was only because of him that she had entered this prison. I’m in her debt now, he thought. I must find a way to save us.

  Anja was studying her scrap of parchment. Halfdan had joined her. Fridrik squeezed Birgit’s shoulder and whispered, “It’ll be all right. You’ll see. We’ll find a way out.” He didn’t dare watch for a response, so he crawled forward to peer over Halfdan’s arm at the map.

  “I don’t see any other way out except for the main entrance,” Anja said.

  “The dragon,” Halfdan said. Fridrik had never seen the boy look so frightened.

  “There’s no choice,” Anja replied.

  “If it sleeps deeply enough, perhaps it won’t awaken,” Fridrik said. He looked at his torch. “We had better get moving. Don’t want to end up trapped in here without light.”

  Halfdan nodded but looked as if he might be sick.

  “I’ll fetch Birgit. Go on ahead and we’ll catch up,” Fridrik said. He watched them take up their packs and scuttle down the passage before heading back toward Birgit.

  “Look at me, Birgit,” he said and placed a hand on her chin to lift it. Her eyes were unfocused. “We can’t stay here.”

  “I...”

  “Come. I’ll get us out of here.” He took her by the arm and urged her to follow. Her body responded, though her expression remained dazed. Fridrik held the torch out in front of them and edged forward as quickly as he dared. Birgit coughed at the smoke filling the passage. The light of the other torches had vanished ahead.

  Fridrik began to sing under his breath, a warrior’s song of valor that he’d often heard as his clansmen went off on expeditions in their dragon-prowed boats. He couldn’t say how much time passed, but eventually he saw light ahead of them, and soon the passage widened and they entered a small room where the others awaited them.

  Anja approached and put an arm about his neck. “It will be easier now. The other passages are bigger. We can walk upright.”

  “What does the map show now?” Fridrik said.

  “That way looks the quickest,” she responded, pointing at a corridor to the right.

  He held his torch up high and looked about the room. It was disappointing how little there was to see. Wood so crumbled there was no way to tell what it had once been. A moldering pile of cloth. When he reached down to touch it, it puffed away like ash. His imagination had betrayed him. He had thought he’d find ancient relics and treasures, or at least some fantastic souvenirs to show to his father when he returned home. “Lead on,” he said, and took Birgit’s slack hand again.

  No one spoke for what seemed like days as they wandered down a twisting maze of passages and rooms. Once they found a long room where the stone floor was pitted and scored. Halfdan suggested it was the acid from the dragon’s breath. Another time they found a rusty, crumbling chainmail hauberk and a scattering of bone shards.

  Anja often halted to look at her map, and at long last she stopped them in a room with only one roughhewn passage leading onward. “Here,” was all she said.

  Fridrik squatted near her and looked at the map. She pointed out their location. “That squiggle?”

  She pointed at the rough stone of the onward passage. “It le
ads to the great hall where the dragon sleeps.”

  “How far?”

  “I can only guess, but I think it’s only another two hundred paces or so.”

  Fridrik looked at his torch, which was burning down to the nub. “When we get close, perhaps we should go on in the dark. There may be sunlight to show the entrance.”

  “Maybe,” Anja said. “I think I’ll try a candle. Father always told me dragons sleep deeply.”

  “I’ll...I’ll take the lead,” Halfdan offered.

  Anja nodded at him, and Halfdan stalked forward into the cave. She met Fridrik’s eyes. “Will you ever forgive me for this?”

  “We’ll see,” he whispered. “It’s Birgit I’m worried about. Go on. I’ll get her.”

  The rough passage twisted and turned. The guttering torchlight sparkled from crystals in the ceiling and walls. Where the way widened, stalagmites thrust upward from the floor and Fridrik could reach up and touch dripping stalactites.

  “Halt!” whispered Halfdan.

  “What is it?” Anja said.

  Fridrik edged forward to join them, leading Birgit behind him. A deep black slash crossed their path, a crevasse dropping down into the depths of the earth. Far below he heard the sound of rushing water.

  “We can jump it,” Anja said.

  “It’s not that far,” Halfdan agreed.

  “I don’t think Birgit can make it,” Fridrik whispered.

  Birgit surprised them by responding for the first time since their entombment. “I can.”

  Fridrik turned to her and smiled when he saw life in her eyes again. “You sure?”

  She nodded. “You’ve seen me. I’m good at leaping.”

  “Yes, you are.” He turned to Anja and Halfdan. “You two go first. Then Birgit.”

  Halfdan shrugged out of his pack and handed his torch to Anja. He took a few paces back up the passage, then lunged forward and leaped easily over the chasm. When he reappeared at the far side, he was grinning. “Nothing to it!”