The Stone of Cuore
Page 11
The Dragon Battle
Having delivered a bundle of firewood to the castle and finishing their other chores, the boys lowered the massive iron gate. Accomplished by a crank that wound a heavy rusted chain around a spool, the gate went down with much less effort than it went up. The bridge was rarely closed anymore and Kaspar doubted that the boys would have the strength to work the turnstile anyhow. Once the gate was closed, the boys climbed the spiral staircase up to their chamber. Curious of the starlit sky, they went up onto the roof to gaze out over the forest.
With the Queen and her escort gone peacefulness had returned to Tancred’s Castle. Bird screeching, wolves howling, bullfrogs croaking, all among a choir of crickets filled the night air with strange noises. A slither glowing faintly purple lifted up from the muddy moat, snarled, and then evaporated into the wind leaving only its smell of foul swamp gas behind. The laughter of birds filled the air and then at once both boys witnessed the glows.
Flittering among the trees, faint but colorful glows swirled about. Not driven by wind or natural force, the glows were red, orange, and a few yellow or green. Laughing voices filled the air as the colorful glows moved as if performing a dance of celebration. More glows were coming, dashing among the leaves and swirling around the tallest of trees. A greater glow than all others landed on the bough of a tall evergreen. Gathering together, the glows swirled around a greater twinkling bright orange light.
“What are they?” Tate whispered as they hid behind the battlements watching the growing celebration of twinkling, flittering glows.
“I canst say,” Platov replied. Both peered out between the stone battlements hopeful that the magical glows would come closer and reveal their true identities. Then at once the shrill sound of a bird and bone chilling snarl of a nearby wolf sent the glows scattering off in all directions. Platov could see the glows hiding behind the leaves of distant trees. Throbbing with an inner life, the glows crowded into the upper story of the forest. Another snarl from the wolf and the boys sensing danger dashed off the roof.
Peering once again out the narrow slots in their chamber they watched as a dark figure moving through the forest. Then the eyes and teeth of the wolf flared as the beast turned back and stared up at them. The wolf growled again and then with a snarl the dark shape disappeared into the thickets. Platov jumped away from the narrow slot while Tate fell off the stool he was standing on.
“We have arrows,” Tate said bravely. The arrows were hanging on the wall in a quiver next to an old bow. Pulling the arrows out, he found them all twisted and warped beyond value while the bowstring was also beyond any use.
“The door is barred,” Platov said after pulling the massive oak beam across the door. Locking it into the notches cut into the stonework, he pulled on the door handle just to make certain. Then he opened the flap and stared out into the darkness of the stairwell.
Twinkling glows were passing by the arrow slots, hovering for a moment and then disappearing. One boldly glowed brightly red and hovered for a long moment just inside the edge of the opening, and then it too was gone.
“What are they?” Platov asked the Sage.
“Oorts, they are of the forest,” Sage replied. Platov examined the orb in the torchlight watching its eyes drooping.
“The wolf,” Tate said as he heard the distant snarl. Several more wolves answered the call.
…
Approaching midnight, the fire on the hearth crackled and then suddenly the blaze filled the darkened chamber with flickering light. Platov stirred and stared at the fire. Aware of a presence, Platov sat up and searched around the chamber for the shadow that haunted him.
“The wolf has betrayed you,” a barely heard voice spoke.
Platov bolted from the soft straw bed looking for the voice. A figure stood in the deep recess of the open arrow slot. Wearing a green tunic the figure was very small with a faintly green glow. With a bow and quiver of arrows, Platov knew it was a wood elf.
“Hurry, Wraith is coming,” the elf spoke again. “The wolf was his agent.”
Platov gathered up his labradorite stone and then picked up the Sage.
“My advice is to wait for him on the roof,” Sage said.
“What is going on?” Tate stirred by the sound of voices sat up and stared blankly.
“Wraith is coming,” Platov reported.
“To the roof!” Sage commanded. “Fearlessly we shall strike hard and fast.”
Platov gathered up his shirt and pulled it over his head. Then tying up his shoes with straps that wound up his ankles, he picked up the labradorite stone and the Sage. Peeking through the door flap, he heard whispering voices and could see a swirl of Oorts whipping up the spiraling staircase. Platov slid back the heavy beam and then carefully cracked open the door. Creeping out into the darkness with a strange sense that all was about to go terribly wrong, he headed up the stairs. Tate with his shoes only half-laced tumbled out the door with the bow and quiver of useless arrows.
Platov pushed open the roof door. A gust of wind with a wicked howl smacked him in the face. Creeping out onto the roof, they slipped down behind the battlements and watched over the darkened forest. Swirling multicolored Oorts flittered among the high branches. Gathering, their numbers were growing and Platov could sense a strange growing tension spreading out in rhythmic waves. Like a drumbeat, but silent, the glows were calling themselves to join Platov in his battle. Then at once, the silence of the nighttime forest was broken by the snapping of a twig. Platov gripped his labradorite stone willing it to prepare. Glowing and throbbing, the inner life of the stone was gathering its powers. The silent drumbeat of the glows broke over the forest and then Wraith could no longer hide as the glows revealed his presence in a flash of blinding golden light. Two slithers reared up from the muddy moat and snarled. Hovering along the curtain wall, the slithers were staying to witness the battle.
Just beyond the moat, Wraith’s ghostly figure was draped in a long black robe that flowed with the wicked wind. He held a Staff that culminated in a wicked red stone held in the coils of a serpent. The Staff once held by the wicked sorceress Madam Maxius was pure evil and already more than once, Platov had felt its poisonous bite. Wraith wickedly laughed at the preposterousness of Platov daring to hold him off from the top of the gatehouse tower. Heckling Platov mockingly and offering to not be so harsh if Platov came down from the tower willingly. Then he stepped closer. Another foul swamp gas filled slither rose out of the moat casting a purplish light over the forest. It snarled at Platov and then with a popping sound, the slither faded back into the moat.
Platov could see the Oorts all gathering in a circle. The strange vibration of drums sounding felt but not heard as the air throbbed. More sparkling glows were coming. Platov glanced around the rooftop to see that he was not alone as a growing host of wood elves had arrived. Taking up behind the battlements, the elves were pointing their arrows down at Wraith. Tate held the Sage tightly while Platov peered between the battlements.
“I know ye be cowering up there,” Wraith called. “Such a thrashing shall be granted if I hast to come after you!”
“I am not coming down!” Platov howled defiantly.
“Then you be giving me no choice!” Wraith bellowed venomously. A wicked force was gathering around the red stone of his wicked Serpent Staff. Swirling, gathering, and snarling, a vicious apparition taking the form of a red dragon grew from the Staff.
Gaining the allegiance and encouragement of a wood elf at his side, Platov willed the labradorite stone to protect him. A shimmering dragon, amber and green erupted from the stone. Breathing fire, Platov’s amber dragon flew over the battlements punctuated by the drumbeats of the Oorts in alliance. Just over the moat, the two mysterious forces met. The air filled with fire and then circling around, Platov’s amber-green dragon descended on Wraith unleashing a furious golden fire. Wraith was not defeated, instead he laughed sinisterly at Platov.
“Ye hast a mighty stone!” Wraith mocked. “But ye
lack skill and courage!”
The eyes of the Sage blinked and caught the moonlight. A wood elf was near Tate and then the silent sensation of drums filled the air all around. Storms were brewing just beyond the forest. Lightning filling the night skies in violent flashes sounding in unison thunderous rumbles. Platov gripped his stone and peered out through the battlements. Wood elf arrows flew through the sky with the twang of bowstrings snapping. A slither creeping up the side of the walls suddenly exploded with a popping sound, its purple mist of foul swamp gas swept into the forest amid hysterical laughter.
“Scorch be wanting his stone back,” Wraith taunted. “Ye be tricking dragons. The Stone of Cuore gives no protection from Scorch. Who will save you from the devouring you justly deserve?”
Platov gulped and held his ground. Lightning flashed through the sky, striking down on the parapets. Thunder shook the tower but then the drumbeats were more powerful. The storm pushed away from Tancred’s castle as it hovered over the forest.
“Come down now!” Wraith called pretending to be kindly. “Ye shall not be punished!”
“No!” Platov called back.
Outraged, Wraith again tapped his Staff on the ground. The tower shook in a blast of thunder. Then the wicked red dragon was snarling over Platov. Fire blasted from its gaping mouth, but as quickly, Platov’s dragon struck back. With its armored tail sweeping through the sky, Platov’s amber-green dragon struck down the wicked red dragon with a vengeance. A conjured wind from the Oorts whipped down on Wraith. Knocked to the ground Wraith growled angrily. Then Platov heard the snarl of a wicked wolf. Poised and prepared to pounce across the tower roof, the wolf snarled and bared its teeth. Arrows from a dozen wood elves lashed out at the wolf and in a puff of wind, the apparition vanished. Wraith defeated escaped into the forest amid a hail of elf arrows. A long line of Oorts trailed after him driving Wraith off with a fearsome storm of wind, lightning, thunder, and powerful drumbeats.
“A revenge upon you!” Wraith cursed, his voice carried against the wind but loudly heard.
“Wraith is gone,” the elf who had come to warn Platov said as he appeared on the battlements. “But ye be facing the dragon. Your magic will not be driving Scorch away.”
“I still have two enemies,” Platov said regretfully. He peered over the battlements watching the swirling glows moving amid the silent sensation of victoriously pounding drums. A cool wind blew over the tower bringing with it a spattering of rain. Off in the distance a screech owl broke the eerie silence. Then the Oorts were returning, swooping past the tower and disappearing into a midnight mist rising up from the forest floor.
“Wraith cannot prevail over the Stone of Cuore,” Sage said, still gripped tightly in Tate’s hand.
Without another word, Tate and Platov stumbled down the darkened steps and returned to their chamber. Barricading the door with the heavy oak beam they sat on the end of the bed and stared at the fire.
“Will Wraith return?” Tate asked. He had put the Sage on the heavy table. Glancing over he watched as the orb’s eyes drooped.
“Not tonight,” Sage replied sleepily.
Platov fiddled with his labradorite stone in his hand and then set it on the table next to the Sage.
“If Scorch comes, he will devour you,” Tate said nervously.
“If I give him back the stone, then Wraith will steal me away,” Platov replied anxiously.
“Worse when he finds out that I am with you,” Sage stated, yawned, and closed his eyes.
Chapter 12: A Great Quest