by Sam Ferguson
Gorliad opened his mouth and white flames flew out to devour the band of attacking dwarves. The fire consumed them in an instant, turning them to dust and leaving only the blackened steel axes and swords. Gorliad didn’t stop there. He saw a pair of dwarves off down the slope, fighting back to back as enemy drakes snapped at them and spat fire. Gorliad leapt into the air, tucked his legs and fixed his wings. He soared straight and true, not even stopping to realize that he was flying farther and faster than he had heretofore done. He picked one of the drakes out of the air with his talons, seizing the beast by the neck and snapping its spine. Then he flew up and lashed out with his mighty tail, crushing the bone that connected the next drake’s wing to its body and dropping the beast to the ground.
A third drake dove down from above. Gorliad flipped over to meet it with his four sets of talons, piercing the drake through its chest and neck. Then he turned himself aright and dropped to land on the drake, forcing his talons all the way through the crushed foe.
The pair of dwarves shouted and then ran onward, hacking at new foes that advanced toward them.
Gorliad saw his mother circling the mountain. A pair of blue dragons engaged her, spewing fire and darting in to strike with their talons and tails. Gorliad jumped into the air and began to beat his wings. He climbed higher and higher, focusing only on reaching his mother.
A wind ripped through the sky, pushing Gorliad off course and forcing him to flap furiously just to stay aloft. He managed to keep himself in the air. A smaller dragon moved in. Gorliad caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. The dragon was slightly larger than he was, but was obviously much more agile on wing.
Gorliad angled himself down, sailing toward a copse of trees. He could hear the attacking dragon flying down behind him. Gorliad glanced over his back once and saw the golden dragon snarling and bearing its teeth. He could see the glow in the dragon’s chest, showing that it was prepared to cast its flame.
The burgundy dragon had the advantage. He had spent many days wandering the woods in front of the entrance to his mountain. He knew the layout. He dropped down into the tall pines and spotted the deep pool of crystal blue water where he often played divers with the other dragons. He tucked his wings in close to his body and dove into the water.
Down he went, diving into the depths. Flying was very new to Gorliad, but swimming was not. He flipped around and maneuvered under a rock outcropping hidden under the water. The attacking golden dragon bathed the area in fire above. Flames blanketed the top of the pool, hissing against the cool waters and blinding Gorliad from seeing his foe.
A heavy vibration shook the ground. Gorliad knew the golden dragon had landed. Gorliad quickly crept along the outcropping, moving into the darkness and searching for the underwater cavern he had played in before. Orange and red light erupted above him again. Sploosh. The golden dragon dove into the water. Gorliad turned around, hiding in the cave. He reached down and grabbed the long, slender stalactite he had broken from the cave before and gripped it like a dwarf might hold a spear. He watched as the golden form searched for him in the depths. Then, he tensed his legs against the wall and shoved off, lunging for his foe.
He held the rock-spear in his talons, aiming for the golden dragon’s chest. The enemy saw him coming and moved to counter his attack. Gorliad opened his mouth and shot his flame out. The horrendous hiss of the water as the white flame mixed with the cool liquid was deafening. The bubbles and swirling flame obstructed his view, and likewise formed a screen for him to shield him from his opponent.
Then there was impact. It felt solid at first, resisting the rock-spear. Then it gave in with a sudden crack, and the spear moved in until Gorliad’s foreleg slammed into the golden dragon’s chest. The fire died and the bubbles disappeared. Blood now swirled in the blue waters, turning into a purple haze as the golden dragon roared out in pain. White and pink bubbles flowed upward from the beast’s mouth and it sank deep into the black depths of the pool.
Gorliad swam up quickly, fighting to keep his mouth from gasping for breath until he broke the surface. Water streamed off his body as he pulled himself up over the bank. His lungs expanded rapidly, pulling in the welcome breath. He looked up to the sky. Fire and smoke swirled around the air like a pair of swallows darting and weaving through the sky. He could no longer see Siravel. Nor could he see Geldryn. He stretched his neck, looking this way and that, but in the end he knew he would have to fly up to find them.
“Look here,” a voice called from the edge of the clearing. “We got ourselves a youngin.”
Gorliad turned to see a trio of spear-wielding dwarves. A fourth moved out from the bushes, drawing back an arrow on a wickedly curved short bow. The burgundy dragon didn’t hesitate. He lunged through the air, flames rushing out to devour the bow and force the archer to turn away. The first spear-wielding dwarf fell beneath Gorliad’s talons. Lightning fast, Gorliad shot out with his fang-filled maw, snatching the second dwarf by the shoulder and flinging him high over his head toward the pool. The third dwarf came in hard, thrusting his spear at Gorliad’s exposed side, but Gorliad had expected that. His mighty tail whipped around and caught the dwarf in the chest, sending him to crash into the trunk of an old pine tree.
The young dragon finished off the dwarf in his clutches and then moved forward to destroy the dwarf against the pine tree. The dwarf reacted to Gorliad’s press by going for a small crossbow hanging at his belt. He aimed and fired, but the shaft glanced off of Gorliad’s shoulder harmlessly. Gorliad felt the heat build in his chest. He opened his mouth and let the rush of flame and heat turn the last dwarf to ash. The pine tree groaned and popped in protest as the flames tore through its trunk and dropped the tree to the ground in a bath of fire.
Gorliad then took to the sky. Emboldened by his victories, he climbed high into the air, looking to aid where he could. A greater dragon from his mountain soared by, narrowly missing him with his tail and crashing into an opponent from the challenger’s army. The two of them roared out as they tore into each other, biting and clawing as they fell toward the ground. The burgundy dragon turned to fly back toward the mountain. He knew he would be better able to fight near the rocks and crags rather than out in the open with the larger, older, more skilled dragons. He dropped down to just above the trees, careful not to catch the eye of any of the larger dragons above. He looked and spied Algearon exiting the mountain with a host of dwarves under his command. The surly dwarf was pointing and gesturing wildly.
Likely already lecturing me. Gorliad thought then to turn back to the forest, but he saw another squad of dwarves reaching the entrance and engaging in battle with Algearon. As much as he disliked the dwarf’s lectures, he was not about to let him fight alone. He beat his wings harder, faster, accelerating and propelling himself onward. The fire roiled up within him, ready to be loosed on the invading dwarves.
Blinding pain ripped through him from below. His mouth opened and emitted the most gut-wrenching, god-awful scream that ever rent the skies over King Geldryn’s mountain. The fire in his chest fizzled to not more than a puff of smoke and a few paltry sparks. He looked down to his right foreleg. Something slick and sharp protruded out through his right shoulder. The searing hot pain coursed through his body, as blood fell from the double-pronged spear-like object.
Gorliad’s wings no longer moved, yet he was coursing through the air faster than before. As his agonized scream died and he lost all of his breath the world seemed to come to a stand-still. Dragons above him appeared frozen in the sky. Hot, angry red flames ceased their courses and instead hung in the air before the dragons that had cast them. Smoke no longer swirled, and there was no sound anymore.
The burgundy dragon then realized that he was not flying; he was being pulled back to the ground. His blood trailed after him in the sky as his body hurtled back to the forest below. He heard the sound of branches snapping around him, but he could not feel it. His body was numbed, and cold. Even when his left wing broke against a h
eavy oak tree, he did little more than flinch. His snow-like eyes stared into the sky above, and all of his other senses seemed to fade away in that eternally long descent to the ground.
Only when his body bounced off the ground did his sense of sound return to him, as if the jarring collision had shaken something loose from over his ear-holes. He took in a couple of shallow, quick breaths. He didn’t try to stand. All of the fight was taken from him.
A shadow fell over him and he slowly looked up to see a grinning set of fangs above his head. Forest green lips curled back to reveal black gums and a forked, red tongue that flickered out between the knife-like fangs. A heavy foot fell upon Gorliad’s foreleg and he moaned terribly, something between a dying goats bleating and a rabbit’s scream. The two-pronged spear-like object jerked and twitched, wrenching itself free of Gorliad’s body, but not without dealing even more damage to the young dragon. A heavy amount of blood coursed out from the gaping wound. Gorliad looked to see slick shards of bone covered in blood. His blood. His head fell to the ground and he blinked slowly. The green talons released his foreleg and moved off of him.
A great and terrible roar, like that of one hundred storms sounded above, blasting fully grown trees to the ground and shattering them to oblivion. Dust and rocks flew out from the area like shadows before the sun. Gorliad managed to turn his head up to see his father diving downward. He felt the two dragons collide, as they shook the ground and caused a nearby slab of granite to split in two. A black talon slashed out. A green, two-spiked tail whipped back at Geldryn. Fire and smoke bathed the forest in the colors of death. Sulfur and ash replaced the scent of pine.
A large foot swept Gorliad away, casting him from the battle as if he were nothing more than a mouse cast aside by a bear’s paw. He tumbled and skittered across the ground and into a heap of blasted pine trees. Four white dragon legs dropped in front of Gorliad, obscuring his view of his father as he battled the massive green dragon. Through the legs, he caught glimpses of the two tearing at each other. Green and black scales fell to the ground. A bit of blood splashed across a tree trunk. The ground shook violently, as if the whole of the mountain was about to collapse under the force of the two brutes.
A wave of fire rolled toward Gorliad, but a white wing shielded him from the flame. He looked up, finally recognizing the dragon over him. If only he could recall her name. His vision started to fade then. Each time he blinked, it grew harder to open his eyes. His breathing stayed shallow, but was slowing down. The cold numbness crawled up his neck and spread out over his entire body.
Even when the long, two-spike green tail was severed from the challenger and fell with the force of a crashing tree, Gorliad barely noticed.
Something rough slipped under him, bumping and shoving his body forward a couple of meters before finally lifting him from the ground. His head dangled loosely, swinging back and forth slightly. This motion turned his head just enough that he recognized his mother pulling him from the ground. She extended her wings and then they were above the trees.
A mighty roar shook the air and sky around him. Gorliad jerked his neck to see his father standing over the mangled corpse of the green dragon. The challenge was over. The king had kept his mountain. Shouts of victory mingled with the screams of fear and anguish. Dragons fell from the sky, and dwarves below met their doom with the point of sword and fang.
Suddenly they dropped from the sky and Gorliad’s head fluttered up just a bit and his numb body felt almost as if it were floating. Gorliad only partly recognized that his mother had landed. The warm, protecting caverns seemed to him a foreign tunnel as his mother blurred past everything inside. He could only faintly hear her footsteps as she clawed and raced her way through the caves. He blinked his eyes, and struggled to open them one more time.
He caught sight of a glinting pile of gold and jewels.
The treasure’s welcoming song seemed so distant. He dropped down and moved into the pile. Yet, he knew it wasn’t him moving. Was someone pushing him? Wasn’t he alone? Why was the music growing more distant if he was inside the pile? His mind blurred. His vision went dark. He took in one last breath and then he succumbed to the cold numbness in his body.
Chapter 14
Dwarves and dragon alike scattered before her determined gait. Her pair of skytes lay nestled safely between her wings, where none would be able to see them. She hadn’t remained with Gorliad any longer than the time necessary to cover the young dragon in the healing gold. Siravel knew by looking at his wounds that even if the hatchling survived, he would no longer be a prince. At best he would be a crippled servant. Her binding chord with Geldryn was no more.
A plot formulated in her angry mind. She could still hear the sounds of battle outside. Undoubtedly the fighting would continue until the last invader was slain, but that is not what concerned her now.
She nearly crushed Algearon underfoot as she exited the mountain. Siravel looked down and saw the dwarf directing a score of dwarves pushing carts of gold up toward the upper nursery. When he saw her, he nearly tripped over himself trying to bow and sidestep out of her way.
He uttered some apology that she cared not to listen to. She would deal with him later.
She stretched her wings just as soon as she exited the mountain. She soared down to where her husband had slain the challenger. He was away now, helping the others run down the remaining invaders as the army tried futilely to flee now that the green dragon was dead.
“He has not taken his prize yet,” Siravel said.
She swooped down into the smoldering clearing and landed just before the green corpse. Her two skytes took flight a moment later and circled around to her face.
“You two keep watch. Tell me if anyone approaches.”
Without a sound the two skytes took off, patrolling the edge of the clearing. Siravel reached down with her left foreleg and took the dead dragon’s head in her talons. Turning it over, she looked into its dead eyes. She took in a deep breath and let it swell her breast. A hot flame ignited within her. She pried the dragon’s mouth open with her talons and then put her mouth to its. She blew gently, yet steadily, sending her flame into the dead dragon. As she did so, the eyes twinkled ever so slightly. She continued to blow the fire in, making the deep green eyes glow brighter and brighter with each passing second. Then, she created the connection. She focused all of her energies, knowing that the spell would only last as long as she could maintain the fire within the corpse. While it had been easy to do on her dead skyte, it was much more difficult on a large dragon, and required steady lungs.
In through his eyes her mind went, breaking through the green irises and lunging deep into the glowing embers of its mind. As this being was dead, she could not direct its mind as she could with a living soul. She had to wade through the memories in reverse order, starting with the recent battle with her husband. She pushed through the battle, forcing the memories to pass much more rapidly than real time. She watched a speedy flight over the nearby ridge to the north, then coursed eastward to a lone, black spire in the middle of a plain some three or four hundred kilometers away. A host of large dragons flew nearby, each carrying as many as ten or twelve dwarves upon its back. Inside the spire, she saw tunnels and caves, with dwarves all about. The great invading army stayed outside on the platform while the green dragon walked backward up through the many caves and tunnels.
Then, the green dragon entered into a spawning chamber, where a great queen lay with a newly lain egg. The egg had a red spot along the top. It was a crowned egg. The green dragon bade farewell to its mother and then walked backward out of the spawning chamber and up to a great hall with a mighty, silver dragon sitting atop a throne of gold and jewels, flanked by two greater dragons of red, and a score of armed dwarves. The memory began to fade then, as her breath waned.
The connection was lost and the green dragon’s eyes went cold and dark.
Siravel dropped the head. She had seen all she needed to see.
“I hav
e finished,” she said to her skytes. They quickly returned to her. “Go and assemble a few dwarves from the expeditionary forces. Tell them their queen demands their presence in my chamber.”
The two skytes flew off, keeping low to the ground.
Siravel then noticed the two-pronged tail on the ground several meters away. She stalked over to it and drew a talon across its length. She stopped when she got to the spikes and saw Gorliad’s blood.
The ground trembled behind her. She turned to see Geldryn again standing over the green dragon’s corpse.
“Why are you not with Gorliad?” he asked.
“He is in Algearon’s hands now,” Siravel said. “A high queen’s place is on the battlefield with her husband, until the invaders are destroyed.”
Geldryn appeared pleased with that answer, or at least he didn’t show any sign of displeasure. He looked down at the corpse and moved his talons in with precision to slide under a pair of chest scales. He ripped them free from their place and then sliced the flesh open. Bones cracked and broke as he moved in. A slick, wet schlop filled the air and a gush of blood spurted out over Geldryn’s talons. When he removed his claws, he held the green dragon’s main heart between his talons.
The king bellowed a mighty roar and devoured the heart. Without hesitation he moved to the severed tail. Again he worked his talons to pry scales free until he had revealed the tender, leathery flesh beneath. He sliced open the tail and pulled a pair of hearts, each roughly a third the size of the first, out from the tail and devoured them as well. Geldryn then roared thunderously, spewing flame into the air about him. Siravel joined in his victory cry, and then a chorus of dragons added their voices.
Siravel watched as a host of dragons descended from above and began devouring the green dragon’s remains. After the carcass was eaten, they all flew away. Siravel followed Geldryn back to the mountain. The other dragons continued scavenging carcasses with the help of the dwarves, who would use the meat as well. The dwarf carcasses, however, would be burned and have their ashes spread by the winds.
