by Geno Allen
The sun’s light was dwindling, and the creatures in the darkness shuffled anxiously. Zam thought he could hear teeth clattering and jaws slamming shut in anticipation of their meal. In his exhaustion a moment came when he realized there was nothing he could do to escape. He slumped to his knees and closed his eyes. Whatever suffering those creatures bring upon me, may it end quickly.
Sorrow filled every ounce of his being. I must have made a wrong choice. Perhaps I should have taken a different path, or followed Galwen's map more closely.
Darkness passed over his thoughts. Despite his previous certainty, Zam now felt certain he would not save Raine, could not save Raine. “I’m sorry, Molly.” Tears streamed down his face. “And Tearis, I won’t be coming back.” Anguish filled him. “Raine... Galwen... all of you… I am so sorry.” He took in shuddering breaths. “Elyon, I was not meant for this quest!” He shook with sorrow, huddled in the middle of the clearing, sobbing.
As the light continued to fade, something began slowly rising in Zam. His heart defied the misery that was trying to claim him. If this is to be my end... well then.... With tear-filled eyes, he stood, drew his sword, and faced the beasts in the wood. Here and there sorrow caught his breath and all throughout his heart ached, but he was determined. “Though little strength remains in me, my life will not be taken without a fight!”
The last sliver of light drifted behind the horizon, and the creatures, assured of victory, crept slowly toward him. In the dark he could make out perhaps thirty bent silhouettes clawing their way toward him. He tightened his grip on the blade—every muscle coiled, ready to strike.
Suddenly there was a thunderous rumbling and the ground shook. The creatures stopped their approach. The rumbling grew, accompanied by great heavy footfalls, as if a mountain were bounding up from behind.
Before he could decide what to face—the great rumbling or the creeping beasts—the trees parted and a large shape burst through leaping over Zam and breathing a wall of fire near the edge of the clearing. The dark beasts screamed as some were consumed and others were driven back by the blaze. In the light from the fire Zam saw a great blue-gray dragon snatching one of the straggling beasts in it teeth and swallowing it whole.
This dragon was smaller than Crimthorn, but just as fearsome. It stood sixteen feet high and was covered in shimmering scales with horns on its head that were shorter than Crimthorn’s. The dragon reeled around to face Zam who held his sword outstretched.
“You won’t need the sword, Young One.” The dragon’s tone was smooth… calming, and oddly devoid of arrogance.
Zam was afraid his exhaustion was getting the better of him, for dragons were cunning creatures with many tricks. “Yes, I will! You will not have me, any easier than those beasts would have!” With that, Zam charged at the dragon, mustering every bit of his remaining strength. Aiming for the dragon’s throat, he struck with all his might, hoping to slip through the scaly armor as he had with Crimthorn. To his dismay the sword broke with the force of the blow, and he was left with half a blade for defense.
The dragon spoke again. “You know how to fight dragons—I’ll give you that—but it will not avail you against me.” The dragon brought its face close down to Zam whose arms were ringing with pain from his attempt.
From behind Zam came another voice, friendly, welcoming. “I wouldn’t try to fight him if I were you. You don't stand a chance, despite your defeat of Crimthorn.”
Zam turned. A large, dark-skinned man, leapt down from the branches of a nearby tree. He was ruggedly dressed and easily as tall as Graffeon with the broadest shoulders Zam had ever seen a person have. Some would have called him a giant, but in truth he was a man. A man with very kind eyes.
For a moment Zam was frozen. A dragon so close he could feel its breath on one side and a rough but kindly looking man approaching on the other. He recalled Galwen’s remark that Seritheen can appear as anything they please. These must be Seritheen.
With what was left of his sword, and with a speed that startled even him, Zam leapt onto the dragon’s neck and brought the blade down repeatedly, hacking at scales with a force greater than he imagined he had.
“Boy, stop!” the man shouted. “A Tal’kyon is not a creature to trifle with!” The words slowly filtered through Zam’s exhaustion and blind determination, and left him wondering, what is a Tal'kyon? But still he struck.
“Fear not, Griss,” the dragon said. “He may trifle.” The shape of its neck broadened out, and the blue-gray scales shifted and changed shape, looking something like moss-covered rock of the same color. The chinks in the creature’s armor disappeared completely, yet Zam continued to strike. The rush of energy that drove him to attack soon wore thin and all strength left him. In exhaustion he collapsed upon the beast’s neck. His world began to spin and darken, and a large, stony hand took hold of him, laying him gently on the soft grass.
Inky blackness filled his sight as he drifted farther and farther into a long-awaited and well-earned sleep. In his last moment awake, he muttered, “You will not have me… you will… not.”
CHAPTER SEVEN: HELP ALONG THE ROAD
Zam fidgeted, trying to get more comfortable. He turned over and found himself lying on a bed of crushed moss. Around and above him were the rough walls of a cave. A large fire burned brightly at its mouth, and the sky beyond seemed dark. Beside him lay a large pile of moss-covered rock. Where am I?
He wasn't chained in any way. There was no guard that he could see. He recalled his drop from consciousness atop the dragon, and sat up feeling foolish for having fallen asleep in the midst of battle. In truth, he'd collapsed from exhaustion—which was understandable considering his journey thus far—but Zam didn't see it that way.
“Well done, Zam. A fine hero you are. Take to battling a dragon and fall asleep in the middle. That’s precisely how it’s done. It’s a wonder you're alive.” and then he thought about that, Wait... it is a wonder I'm alive.
He remembered his sword shattering, his frantic striking with the broken blade, his loss of strength, and the hand that took hold of him. It had been careful with him, and that seemed odd. The creature could have tossed him across the clearing, or dropped him like a pebble to the ground, but instead it laid him gently on the soft grass. And here he was resting on a fresh pile of moss on an otherwise jagged and uncomfortable cave floor. Whoever, or whatever, had taken him was going out of their way to see to his comfort.
Looking about again he noticed his belongings piled against the wall nearby. His broken sword was there, as was his staff, his book, and it looked like, a new dagger… elegantly crafted with an emblem like a dragon slayer engraved on it.
“What’s this? They’re arming me?”
The skin he kept his water in was full, and a meal lay beside it on an old wooden plate. “Perplexity,” he mused as he took the food. “My life is to be filled with perplexity.”
A voice replied, “As are most who follow the quests to which they’re called.” It was the voice of the dragon, or rather Tal’kyon, as Zam would come to find out. As it spoke the pile of moss-covered rock shifted and shuffled, and Zam could see it was no pile at all. It was the creature, looking somewhat like a rough-hewn statue, which had lain silent sentinel there in the cave, guarding Zam against harm.
Of course, Zam didn’t see it that way. “You’re no dragon.” Zam quickly reached for the dagger that had been left for him.
“No, I am not,” the Tal'kyon said. “And please do not destroy that blade on my hide as you did your sword. It is ancient, and carries with it much history.”
Zam briefly shifted his gaze from the creature to the blade, wondering what sort of history. He would have very much liked to know. Quickly he set his gaze back upon the creature. It was quite large—not the sixteen feet high that Zam imagined when he first met the creature, but large none the less. Its form was similar to that of a dragon, though its neck was shorter and far more broad. Each of its four legs was easily as wide around as Zam's
body; the front two seeming to him more like arms. Its shoulders stood at least eight feet from the ground. Its tail was also shorter than a dragon's. Its face was more blunt and almost friendly, and its eyes pierced Zam’s soul, but brought no terror with them.
Zam was unsure what to think of the beast. “Do you intend to eat me?”
The Tal’kyon laughed and shook its head. Its moss-like mane rustled, catching glimmers of light from the fire, reflecting hues of blue and green and silver.
Zam thought the creature oddly beautiful to behold—the sort of beauty one finds in a sunrise, or when looking at great snow-capped mountains.
Its broad, rocky face widened out into a smile. “No, Windwater, I do not intend to eat you.” He chuckled. “You are on a quest. I intend to help you. I am Raim Sabbar, the Tal'kyon of Tangleweave. I have been abroad, but it would seem I returned just in time. You have my comrade Griss to thank for that.”
“That’s right!” Zam turned his way and that. “There was another. The kindly looking one… though fair seeming may belie the nature of a man.” Zam kept his guard up, still holding the dagger toward the Tal'kyon.
“Wise words for one so young, but I assure you, the fair seeming of Griss Corwise extends to the heart of the man and is far more than ‘seeming.’ I would not have known you were in need of help without his intervention.”
Zam puzzled at that.
The Tal'kyon continued. “He passed through dark woods, that no man should cross alone to seek me out and bring me back. Moreover, had he allowed me to travel as I would, we would not have arrived for a few days yet. He drove me to move without rest. Wise was his demand, as I now know.”
Zam looked at the creature. Something in its eyes was softening him. He wanted to mistrust the beast, but he found that a difficult thing to do. “I… I do not trust you.”
The irony of a Tal’kyon is this: though born from rough and rugged stones, their eyes pierce to a man’s heart, break down walls of pain and mistrust, and leave the man softer—more open—than he first had been.
“I know you do not,” the Tal'kyon said. “And it is wise not to trust new acquaintances too easily, though with some exceptions.” Raim Sabbar turned about in the cave to find a more comfortable position and craned his neck to look squarely at Zam. “You have little or no discernable cause to trust me, save the fact that I have not killed or eaten you.”
And the creature could if only he chose....
The Tal'kyon continued. “In your experience, I’d wager, neither creature nor beast is to be trusted, and in fact, many in Darlandis—perhaps many in the wide world—are not worthy of your trust. Most likely, you’ve also never heard of a Tal'kyon. Your lack of trust is to be expected. I do not know what it will take to earn your trust, but I hope to, Windwater... I most assuredly hope to.”
Zam pondered the Tal'kyon's words. Throughout his speech the word Tal’kyon puzzled him. The creature had introduced itself as the Tal’kyon of Tangleweave, and Zam wondered at that. There were no Tal'kyon mentioned in the tale I read, and many pages concerned Tangleweave. He didn’t know what to make of the beast before him. He wanted to ask questions. But what can be asked of one you do not trust that may produce an answer which can be trusted? Zam chose the only question that came to mind. “How do you know my name?”
“I learned it from Griss. That is how I knew I must help you.”
Everything about this creature brought puzzlement. He wanted to befriend the beast, or be befriended by it, but even this last answer seemed incomplete and thereby untrustworthy.
Raim Sabbar saw that his answer was insufficient. “Hear my tale, young one. It may convince you. One day, not long ago....” He paused as if sizing Zam up. “Well, perhaps long by your reckoning... a messenger, an old friend, came to visit me. I had not seen him in ages, by which I mean actual ages of men... not since Rivelin’s war. Angeon was his name. I knew at once he had some great commission for me from his master, for such is the case whenever we meet. But as is his way, he sat and we talked a bit before the message was delivered.
“We talked of the ages between our meetings, of battles fought side by side in the elder days, and of our hopes for the future. At the appointed time he delivered to me his message. It was cryptic, and for nigh unto eighteen years I have pondered it. He did not know its meaning, but bade me keep it in heart until the day I understood and could act upon it.”
This Angeon seems much the same as Graffeon. Zam was deeply interested. “What was the message?”
“I was told ‘The wind and the water comes to Tangleweave. Look to its care, and you will fulfill my desire.’ Cryptic. See?”
Zam nodded. But for knowing his own name, he too would have needed time to ponder. “For eighteen years you have wondered at its meaning?”
“Wondered… yes… and forgotten to wonder too. The urgency of a thing wanes with time when one sees not what they expect. I anticipated some great happening long before now. When Griss urged me to speed along my way I felt no need. I asked what his hurry was. He simply replied, ‘a young warrior faces grave peril and you are his only hope.’
“I must confess, I did not over-hurry, but I did quicken my pace. When Griss sensed I was not giving my all, he stopped me, hopped down from my neck, stood with his face directly before mine, and chastened me like a child. He said, ‘Have you grown so old and tired that you can expend yourself no more than this for the salvation of a young one in the service of Elyon? Soon you will sleep as your brethren do!’ That remark stung me, for many of my kindred do now sleep, and many because they did not act in times of peril. I do long for their awakening. Darlandis could be a place of splendor again would they cease their slumber.” He seemed to be gazing into the distant past. After a moment’s pause he shook his head.
“I stray too far from my tale. The remark stung, but sleep, I believe, was already beginning to overtake me. His words did not motivate me—until he spoke your name. ‘Raim Sabbar’ he said in earnest, placing his hand to my face. ‘A young man, Windwater by name—Zam Windwater, Crimthorn’s bane—must survive his passage through Darlandis.’ I am sure he said more, but it is lost to my mind, for in that moment, memory, thought, and clarity collided, flooding me with vigor.
“I flung him upon my back and set off at greatest speed. Seldom will I fly with a rider, for the danger of it, but I shouted to him to hold tightly to my mane… and thankfully he did.”
“Thankfully indeed!” The voice startled Zam. Griss had returned from scouting. He looked at Zam and continued the tale. “When at first he grabbed me, I thought my words had incensed him, or that some evil must beset Tal’kyon in that wretched decline toward sleep. But as he says he ‘flung me’ on his back, I would say gently placed.” Here he glanced sideways at his companion. “Raim Sabbar is fierce in battle, but never fierce with friends. His care set my heart at ease, and as we flew he told me of a cryptic message he’d once received wherein your name was very nearly mentioned. I have not felt such a force of wind in all my years.” He held up his hands. “I am still sore from gripping his mane. Had I less strength, Raim Sabbar would be grieving the loss of a friend, not celebrating the rescue of a new one.” Griss smiled at Raim Sabbar, ribbing the Tal’kyon as Zam would Dorrin.
Zam remained silent and Griss looked at him, assessing… something. Zam noted the depth of kindness in his gaze. His pale blue eyes cast a stark contrast to the thick black beard and smooth hair that hung full past his shoulders. His copper skin and rugged features painted him a noble character in the dim light of the cave, one Zam felt he would very much like to know.
Griss said, “Zam, you have questions you wish to ask. They're as apparent as if they'd been written in ink upon your face.” He smiled, but still Zam said nothing. “As I’m sure Raim Sabbar told you, my name is Griss Corwise. I reside here in Darlandis. I am a sometime companion of Raim Sabbar and a servant of Elyon. If you would like to ask your questions, the Tal’kyon and I will answer, providing we have the answers.”
Raim Sabbar smiled. “True. It would be foolish to answer questions we have not answers to.”
He chuckled and looked from Griss to Zam and back again. The camaraderie between the two strangers eased Zam’s heart, as did the twice mention of Elyon.
As he watched them and surveyed their eyes, he noted something unmistakable in each. They were kind. Man and beast together—friends. In his heart Zam knew these were not Seritheen after all. He relaxed a bit, and sheathed the dagger. “I thank you for your help in the woods. My journey has been so exhausting I could not have... I would not have–”
Griss nodded. “You would not have survived.”
“Yes.”
Griss smiled, “For my part, you are welcome.”
“And for mine.” Raim Sabbar added. “But I give my thanks to you as well, for I am more awake today than I have been in a thousand years. And it is because of your coming. The stupor of sloth I have walked in unknowing has lifted from me, and the years are peeled back like a veil. I feel alert, ready for battle, by which I do not mean scorching a few Shadow Vermin. I mean battle to shake the foundations of Darlandis.” He paused, realizing Zam couldn’t have understood his line of thought. “But I am ahead of myself, and perhaps ahead of all intention. We have both agreed to answer your questions. You may ask what you will, or if you desire, you may first look to your meal. I am sure it is cold by now.”
Zam thought about it only a moment. He hadn’t realized until now, but he was famished. “I am most hungry. If you don't mind, I think I’ll eat first.”
“Certainly,” said Raim Sabbar. “Enjoy... Griss is quite the cook. I believe you will find it appetizing.”
Zam couldn't believe his fortune in being found by these two. “Thank you.”
Raim Sabbar nodded and Griss stood as he replied. “It is intended to be eaten hot, but it may suit you either way, and if it does not, it will at least stave off your hunger. And you are welcome. We will leave you to your meal and allow you some time. We must discuss a few pressing matters.”
