Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  “That will do then, I suppose.” Algearon turned and motioned for the hall. “Let’s go. Time to begin your training.”

  Gorliad sighed, relieved that the dwarf was not going to question him anymore. He followed only half a step behind Algearon, allowing the dwarf to lead him where he wished.

  “I am the royal hatcher,” Algearon said. “This means that the king and high queen have entrusted me with your upbringing. Until the day you can fly, you are to be in my care.”

  Gorliad stopped walking. Fly? He looked to his wings and a swell of excitement welled up within his breast. He extended his wings and flapped them eagerly. Algearon laughed and waved his hand.

  “It will be a few years yet, my prince,” Algearon said with a chuckle. “Until then, you are to do as I instruct. But don’t worry. I will have you flying by your twenty-first year. You will be flying before you know it.” He motioned for Gorliad to resume walking.

  The burgundy hatchling gave one more beat of its wings and then moved quickly to catch up with the dwarf.

  “Today, I will take you through the mountain. We will begin by going to the king’s chamber.”

  Gorliad perked up and snorted happily.

  “We will go up through the grand hall. Pay attention, and memorize the paths I show you.”

  The two walked down the gently sloping tunnel. When they got to the junction around the curve to the left, they crossed the intersection and continued on straight. The hallway continued for nearly a kilometer before opening into a massive cavern the likes of which Gorliad had never seen.

  Grand columns of red and black granite, each as thick as Gorliad was long, stretched from the marble, highly polished floor up to the ceiling which loomed well over three hundred meters above them. Each column was embellished with carved flowers, crosses, triangles, and leaves stemming out from swirling braids that mimicked vines. Each carving was filled with gold or silver inlay, adding a regal sparkle. Every ten meters hung a series of sconces of brass ringing each column. Blue and yellow flames rose up from the sconces, bathing the entire chamber in a grand, warm light.

  Gorliad bent his neck backward, following the braided design up the nearest column until his eyes reached the ceiling. That is where he expected the gaudy ornamentation to end. He was wrong. The gold inlay sprawled out across the ceiling, like veins in a wing’s membrane. Jewels of every size and color were embedded within the webbing of gold, creating a dazzling spectacle that nearly hypnotized the young hatchling. He wasn’t sure, but he almost thought he could hear the gems singing a melody to him, sweet and soft, like a whispered song.

  “Dwarves created this,” Algearon said. He turned, pointing to all around him with outstretched arms and gesturing to the entire chamber. “This hall was the first to be finished in this mountain when King Geldryn claimed this territory for his own. He brought his army of dwarves, an inheritance from his father, and tamed the very rock of the mountain. They toiled endlessly, while the mighty Geldryn bent the wild valley to his will, subduing all challengers and slaying the monsters that had claimed the valley before his arrival. After this chamber was founded, he sent his dwarves to create dens for their kind, and then he created more dwarves, carving their flesh from the very stone of this mountain.”

  Algearon’s eyes watered as he recounted the tale of the mountain’s founding. “Thus, the dwarves that serve now are truly born of this mountain, and we are bound to him who created us. Without the mighty Geldryn, we would not exist. That is why we serve him. Even now, he watches over us with his might, protecting our existence.”

  Gorliad smiled as he thought of his father tearing the first caves into the mountain with his own talons. The burgundy dragon, having been shown part of his heritage through connections with his mother over the previous week, knew that he would one day set out to establish his own kingdom in a similar fashion.

  “Come,” Algearon said. “Let me take you up to the king’s chamber.” The dwarf moved toward the northern wall of the grand chamber. A single cavern stood there. A grand arch, slightly more than half the height of the chamber, stood to mark the opening. Gold inlayed runes spanned the arch, glowing brightly under the torchlight from the chamber.

  The dwarf pointed to the runes, but didn’t slow his pace as he explained them. “These are the words of the first prayer uttered by the dwarves created by your father, the mighty king. The prayer wishes great blessings of health, wisdom, and strength upon King Geldryn from the Aurorean, the father of all dragons.”

  The two made their way through the arch and Gorliad noticed that the tunnel sloped upward. They climbed for several hours, ascending kilometers up the inside of the mountain. The hall was adorned with carvings of great battles, eggs, and additional carvings of dwarven runes. The murals were easy enough to understand as historical depictions from the mountain’s past, but the runes were altogether foreign to Gorliad. He paused once to study a text carved into a rectangular slab of onyx that had been placed into the red and orange granite of the hall.

  Algearon noticed that Gorliad had stopped, so he turned and walked to the slab. He smoothed his beard over his chest and cleared his throat. “This is a list of names,” he said somberly.

  Gorliad turned to regard Algearon. He opened his mouth to ask about them, but instead of words, only a gurgling squeak came out.

  Algearon arched a brow and then pointed a stubby, hairy-knuckled finger at the top name. “This is the first prince to be hatched in the mountain. He was destined to be a great king. Unfortunately, he was killed during battle when he went out to claim his own kingdom. His name is here, along with the dwarf captains who perished with him.” Algearon moved his finger down a few rows and pointed out another name. “This set of runes depicts the name of a two-headed prince. He established a kingdom far to the south. However, his rule was cut short. An army of ogres infested his mountain, and they overpowered him after a decades-long struggle.”

  The dwarf sighed and then moved his finger down again to indicate four more names amidst the runes. “These other four met similar fates. One died of disease, born weak and of slack constitution. Another died by the fangs of a jealous challenger. The last two did establish kingdoms of their own, but neither of them were able to hold their claims for more than two centuries before challengers struck them down.”

  Gorliad took a step away from the black slab.

  Algearon shrugged. “The life of a prince is not easy, I will tell you that right now. However, if you are attentive in your studies, diligent in your training, and unwavering in your commitment to the traditions of the dragon, then you will make a fine king. With the Aurorean’s blessing, perhaps you will become mighty like your father.” Algearon then offered a wink and a smile. “Besides, none of the other princes had me to train them. I will make sure you are ready.”

  Another two kilometers and then they came upon a large opening in the right side of the cavern. Gold and silver inlay embellished dwarven runes over the top of the entrance, but no fires burned within the chamber. Gorliad took a couple of steps toward the room, stretching his neck to see what was inside.

  “Upon your twenty-first birthday, or after you have mastered flight, this shall be your chamber. Inside here, are the secrets that are passed from king to prince. This is where you will fully come into your power after your initial training with me.”

  Gorliad nodded and backed away from the chamber. They continued up the tunnel. After another kilometer there was an opening to the left. This one, however, was not like the others. It was plain. Before Gorliad could approach, a large brown dragon emerged and eyed them both warily.

  “Taking the hatchling up to see the king,” Algearon said.

  The brown dragon huffed and snorted. Faint, whitish-gray smoke shot out from his wide snout. The dragon nodded and motioned with his head. The two walked onward, up the curving tunnel until at last the tunnel ended with a great golden arch. Unlike the other arches, which had gold inlay set in carved stone, this arch was m
ade from gold, and set into the tunnel to mark its end. Rubies, sapphires, diamonds, and emeralds adorned the center line while amethyst, jasper, onyx, and jade accented the sides. No runes were carved or set in the gold, but a weaving design of silver did crawl up the golden arch, running between the gems and stones set therein.

  “The king’s arch took the better part of a decade to create,” Algearon said as he stopped to admire it. “Just mining the materials needed took years. Then the gold had to be purified and refined. The stones had to be cut and prepared. Only the finest artisans were permitted to set their hands upon this work.”

  A low rumble sounded from beyond the arch. Gorliad turned his head to look into the darkness of the chamber beyond. He took a step forward and noticed that Algearon was not following. He turned to regard the dwarf.

  “This is as far as I go,” Algearon said with a warm smile and a bow of his head. “The king will speak with you in private. Go inside, do not fear.”

  Gorliad turned and moved under the arch and into the darkness. He heard a rustling sound before him. His eyes adjusted easily to the shadows, scanning the depths of the darkness. He saw a massive shape standing before him. He could make out the form, but he could not quite distinguish the features, that is, until Geldryn opened his red-speckled brown eyes and stared back at Gorliad. No sooner did their eyes meet than the connection formed.

  Gorliad balked reflexively. This connection was not as pleasant as his mother’s. This one stung his eyes, and burned through them and into his mind. This was not the connection of a coaxing mother. It was the connection of a king, forceful and strong beyond any others in the mountain.

  Then, there was peace and a free flow of energy between the two.

  “My son,” Geldryn began. “I have brought you here for your first instruction before the commencement of your initial training. The way of the dragon is treacherous, rife with danger and hardship. The path your destiny has set before you will not be easy. A minority of princes ever become strong enough to lay claim to a new kingdom. Less than half of those that do are able to fend off the constant challengers. For those few who are able, who possess the strength of body and spirit, the glory is great. You have seen some of my mountain, but you have not yet traveled outside to the valley without. When you do, you will see the vast expanse that is mine. Every creature, rock, and tree answers to me within this domain. My word is law.”

  Geldryn moved in close to Gorliad so that their breath mingled in the air between them. A deep, throaty rumble emitted from the king as he bored even deeper into Gorliad’s mind. “I see a great strength in you,” Geldryn said. “Learn your lessons well from Algearon, and you too may one day rise to become a king. The Ascension, as it is called, is the only honorable path for a prince to undertake. From this moment on, everything you do, everything you think, and everything you say will shape you. Either you will build yourself up, expanding upon your strengths and talents, or you will waste away and grow weak. A weak prince does not live long in this world.”

  “I will be strong, father,” Gorliad promised.

  Geldryn smiled. “Show me your strength,” he commanded. “I will push your mind. Push back against me. Show me the measure of your will.” Geldryn opened his mouth and a blazing white flame engulfed Gorliad. The fire was not hot, but he shied away at first anyway. The brilliant light shone as if a star was in the king’s mouth. Geldryn then moved in and a tremendous pressure forced in through Gorliad’s eyes. The mental energy physically pushed Gorliad back, scraping and sliding across the stone floor. Another wave, stronger still, washed over him and pushed his body down to the ground.

  Gorliad found it hard to breathe. His body collapsed, pinned to the ground as effectively as if the king had stomped on him. A terrible ringing assaulted his mind, nearly blinding him as his eyes felt the sting intensify. He cried out in a whimper.

  “Have you no strength?” Geldryn asked.

  Gorliad heard the taunting words. A burning fire welled up in his chest, from the depths of his very soul he felt his rage roil up. Slowly, he pulled his feet under him and began to push up against the king’s assault. It took several seconds to get to his feet, and even then his head was still near the ground, with his neck bent awkwardly. He ignored the pain and opened his mouth to roar. Instead of sound, a terrible blue flame shot out, licking the king’s legs and feet.

  “Is that all you have?” Geldryn asked. A new wave assaulted Gorliad and the dragon nearly collapsed again under the pressure.

  The burgundy dragon held his feet under him and took two, agonizingly slow steps forward. He growled against his father’s power, pushing back now with his own mind as well. His mind seized the king’s connection and began to push back. He roared again, this time much louder and able to hold his head up high. He sent a blast of flame at the king’s face and stood tall.

  The connection broke.

  Geldryn smiled. He sent a line of red flame toward the wall and a trough of natural gas ignited, bathing the room in warm, orange and yellow light. “Not bad,” he said with a deep voice. “Look up.”

  Gorliad looked up to see a grand mosaic of rubies, diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and amethyst. The diamonds formed a bright circle in the center of the ceiling. Several arms stretched out from the white center, each a mixture of two or more colors. The flame below on the wall made the mosaic sparkle in such a way that it almost appeared to move.

  “That is a depiction of the Aurorean, the father of all dragons.” Geldryn sat back upon his haunches and let Gorliad admire the mosaic in its entirety. When at last the hatchling had finished studying it, Geldryn smiled. “The Aurorean formed dragons from the stars themselves. Skytes, the smallest of the dragon kind, are said to be born of shooting stars, who are too impatient to wait for their proper birth as appointed by the Aurorean. You and I, however, hail directly from the larger stars. The Aurorean first formed the Ancients, the largest and most powerful dragons upon Kendualdern. The Ancients helped gather the materials for the world, and formed the mountains, rivers, valleys and plains under the Aurorean’s guidance and instruction. Then, once Kendualdern was formed, the Aurorean stretched his brilliant light over the face of it, and gave life to all of the plants and animals that grow.”

  Geldryn then looked to the floor. “Now look down,” he instructed.

  Gorliad looked down and noticed that the black granite also had a design in it, though it was not brilliant nor easily discernable. There appeared to be dark blue lines worked into the black granite. Gorliad backed away, trying to gain a better vantage point. As he did so, he noticed that it was not one design, but many. Each one was a different type of grotesque figure. The one closest to him was a seven headed snake. The next was a lion with nine spiked tails. There were giants, spiders, leviathans, minotaurs, and all sorts of abominable creatures.

  “For everything in this world, there is an opposite. As the Aurorean gives life, so does the Void take it. The Void creates shadows that spawn demons and monsters. As kings, it is our duty to conquer the world, and drive the Void out from Kendualdern. Yet, as each being has its own will to choose, not every dragon is true to this cause. Those who are, are granted to return to the stars by the Aurorean, and their spirits fly to the north, where he rules over a crystal kingdom in the ice cap. However, those dragons who choose chaos are left to have their spirits devoured by the Void.”

  Geldryn stepped around the floor and let Gorliad see some of the figures under where he had been sitting. “When you go to claim a kingdom, you will not try to take one that is already conquered. You must go out and forge a new kingdom in the wild. In this manner you will aid the Aurorean and decrease the Void’s power.”

  Gorliad roared to show his eagerness.

  “Can you not speak yet?” Geldryn asked in a sudden change of subject.

  Gorliad dropped his head a bit in shame. Geldryn sighed.

  “Never mind that,” he said. “Words will come soon.” He then motioned with his jaw toward the exit
. “Go with Algearon now, he will show you the vast expanse of my kingdom.”

  Gorliad trotted out of the chamber to find Algearon standing exactly where he had left him. The burgundy dragon was anxious to see the outside world, so he moved in close to Algearon and motioned for him to climb onto his back.

  Algearon shook his head. “I will walk,” he said. “A prince does not carry anyone upon his back.”

  Gorliad frowned. If he couldn’t carry him, then perhaps he could speed him up. Gorliad would run fifty meters ahead, stop and turn, waiting for Algearon to catch up. To the hatchling’s dismay, however, Algearon did not quicken his pace in the slightest. The trek down to the main chamber took just as long as walking up, only this time the murals and designs in the wall were not as interesting to Gorliad. He wanted to go outside. He wanted to feel the fresh wind and see the light of the sun.

  Several agonizing hours later they finally reached the mountain’s exit. Gorliad walked behind Algearon now, careful not to slam into the lines of dwarves pushing carts of food, ore, gems, or timbers as they moved through the tunnel around him. Great dragons stood as sentries, scrutinizing each passerby and occasionally turning their heads to the end of the tunnel.

  A cool breeze wafted over Gorliad’s face and from that moment on his eyes were fixed on the blue sky beyond the tunnel’s end. Lazy, billowing clouds floated by over the tops of emerald pines and waving willows. Gorliad felt his senses come alive as he stepped out and the warmth of the sun fell upon his leathery skin. He stopped to soak it in, closing his eyes and listening to the rustling leaves playing upon the wind.

  A mighty dragon roared above and Gorliad looked up to see the orange and black speckled belly of a she dragon as she circled around the top of the mountain, her tail swinging behind her and a puff of smoke issuing out from her mouth.

  Gorliad stretched his wings again, letting the wind build up in the membranes and push against him.

  “It will be a while yet, my prince,” Algearon reminded the burgundy dragon. “But one day you will rule the skies.”