Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  The two of them made their way back to the upper nursery. As she followed Geldryn, she noticed that occasionally drops of blood would hit the ground. She snaked her neck around, trying to see where the injury was, but with his jet black scales it was nearly impossible. If Geldryn noticed her gawking, he didn’t show it. He kept his determined gait toward the upper nursery.

  They caught up with and passed a trail of several carts filled with gold and jewels. Geldryn looked down to the carts and sighed loud enough for Siravel to hear. She saw his shoulders and neck hunch downward, and knew the shame he felt. The only crowned prince in centuries, and now he was likely lost before he had even learned to fly properly.

  How could Algearon have failed her so horribly?

  She didn’t have long to reflect on the question. They arrived at the upper nursery and found a massive heap of gold and gems in the center of the chamber. Algearon stood on a stool, shouting directions at a team of dwarves soaked with sweat and pushing carts in and out of the room as a trail of ants might.

  Geldryn moved in and looked to Algearon. “What is the damage?” he asked.

  Algearon shook his head and tugged on his beard. “I fear that the injury is beyond repair, sire.”

  Geldryn glanced back to the pile of gold and then hung his head low. “What are his injuries?”

  The dwarf sighed. “His left wing is broken in three places. It will be months before it can mend. Then, even if it mends properly, it will be much weaker than the right wing.”

  “So it will take him longer to fly, that is not the worst to happen to a young dragon,” Geldryn said.

  Algearon clasped his hands behind his back and sighed. “The wing is not the worst of it, I am afraid.”

  “Out with it,” Siravel hissed.

  “It is his foreleg, sire. It is nearly severed. It hangs by only a thin strip of flesh. The hole is bad enough, but I cleaned out shards of bone from the joint.” Algearon jumped down from his stool and hustled to the table near his bed. He gathered a leather wrap and unrolled it to reveal hunks of bone varying in size. Some were minute, while others were nearly the size of Algearon’s hand. “The hatchling is gravely wounded. We are pulling in all of the resources we can to save him, but I don’t think it will be enough.” Algearon pointed to the edge of the treasure pile closest to them. “You can see the blood.”

  “Why haven’t you closed the wound?” Geldryn snarled.

  Algearon held his hands up. “I did, my king, I swear I sealed it as soon as I had finished pulling the shards of bone. You see the remnants of the blood he lost while we were in surgery. We didn’t take the time to clean the floor after we finished.”

  Geldryn growled and lowered his head to meet Algearon’s eyes. “Will he live?”

  Algearon shook his head. “If he has a strong spirit, he will live. There is no way for me to know. What I can say, though, is that even should he survive he will be lame for the rest of his life. He is no longer fit to be heir.”

  Geldryn abruptly turned and moved toward the exit. Siravel stroked his side with one of her wings and then moved in to Algearon. “Why did you let him out? You were charged with his care!” She moved in to strike the dwarf down.

  Algearon bent his head and dropped to a knee, accepting the punishment. An instant before the fangs closed in on the dwarf, Geldryn pushed the tip of his strong tail against Siravel’s neck.

  “It is not his fault,” he said. “Gorliad has ever been a free spirit.” The king looked into Siravel’s eyes with a sad, longing gaze. “In a way, I am proud of him. He felled a score of dwarves, and slew a dragon as well. He fought honorably.”

  “The queen is right,” Algearon said. “I should pay for my crimes. This is the second time I have failed you both.”

  Geldryn shook his head. “No. I will not allow it. You could no more have stopped Gorliad from leaving the mountain than a fish could hold a river in place.” Geldryn offered a weak smile to the dwarf and then turned his eyes back to Siravel. “There is no need for sorrow. Other queens can yet bring a crowned egg. There shall be another heir, in time.”

  The words fell upon Siravel’s heart, crushing it to powder as if caught between a mortar and pestle. Other queens? Siravel dropped her head and left the chamber. She pushed by Geldryn without a word. Just before she exited the chamber she turned and offered one final glance back toward the pile of gold. Gorliad was supposed to restore everything. Instead, it lies more broken now than ever before.

  She went back to her chamber, her soul hollow and her heart dead. She almost didn’t notice the six armored dwarves in the chamber, standing near the wall where the skytes roosted. She moved in and fell to the floor with a heavy sigh. Tears filled her eyes and fell over her scales to splash upon the ground.

  “Shall we return another time?” one of the dwarves asked.

  Siravel slowly turned her head and looked at the group. Each of them wore the sharp, rigid black armor typical of the expeditionary forces. Several of them had scars on their faces, all but one had beards. They looked capable enough for what she wanted. She looked to their weapons and saw her salvation. She remembered the crowned egg she had seen from the challenger’s memories. She would have to get that egg before any other queen might have the chance to bear a crowned egg.

  She brought her left foreleg in front of her and rested her head on it. Siravel looked to the first dwarf and formed the connection with him. She searched through his memories, reliving his battles and discovering his character. Once she was satisfied, she moved on to the next dwarf, and then the next, until she finished vetting all six of them.

  Siravel took in a breath and then focused her energy. Slowly she probed out with her mind, locking all six of the dwarves at once in the trance. “We have a secret mission.” Siravel shared with each of them the memories she had taken from the green dragon. “We need a crowned egg. I need a crowned egg. We leave tonight.” She broke the connection as soon as she showed them the last of the green dragon’s memories.

  The six dwarves looked to each other, and then back to the queen. None said a word, they simply waited. Siravel rested for the few hours of daylight that remained. The dwarves stood in her room, waiting silently almost as if made of stone. The pair of skytes remained in their roost, and dared not utter any sound. None moved until Siravel finally stirred and stretched from her slumber. She beckoned the six to enter her mouth. She didn’t want anyone noticing her exit.

  She moved out into the corridor and checked around. Several dwarves yet roamed the hall. They were carting meat in from the field still. None of them made eye contact with her. In fact, they pretended not to notice her at all. All the better.

  She kept her normal pace until she reached the exit, then she launched into the sky and flew across the mountains to the north. The cold night air whisked by as she soared above the clouds. Her gold and red scales shimmered in the moonlight, and the thick silvery clouds below hid her departure from any below.

  After passing over the mountains which marked the northern border of Geldryn’s kingdom, she looked back at the jagged ridges. She had never left the kingdom since founding it with her husband. Leaving was never something she had thought herself capable of. It was exciting and exhilarating on many levels. Her wings beat vigorously, and she climbed higher into the night sky, sailing over the dark landscape below. She followed the same path that the green dragon’s memories had shown her, turning east at almost the exact same point in the sky where the green dragon had turned in his flight. It took her only a couple of hours to fly the remaining two hundred kilometers to the black spire.

  The sharp peak was taller than she had realized. The pinnacle stabbed through the clouds above which she flew, seeming as though the mountain itself rested in the clouds. The green dragon’s memories had shown her the entire spire, and she knew there was a wide base with several caves leading in and out of the mountain.

  The clouds below her shifted. The movement was slight, but she noticed it. She had b
een spotted. Siravel emitted a muffled growl, warning the dwarves of the action to come. Nothing moved for a long while. The clouds stood still. There was no sound. Then a red greater dragon rose through the clouds about forty meters before her, dragging the silvery mist with is massive wings as it twirled in the air to face her. It opened its snout, revealing white fangs and a burning glow in the back of its throat.

  Siravel angled her wings up to slow herself to a halt. She flapped rhythmically, keeping herself above the cloud. Her eyes locked with the dragon and she formed the connection. “I am here to offer myself to the king of these lands. Take me to him.”

  The red dragon cocked its head. “Truly?” The red dragon’s words almost mocked her. She could feel the dragons probing tendrils invading her mind, peeling back the layers of defense she had put up. It did not concern her though, she was not only stronger, but more experienced. She created a false image in her mind of what she intended to do. It showed her bearing eggs for the king of the black spire.

  “If you doubt me, let the king decide for himself.”

  “You are too old to be a new queen.”

  The red dragon’s words pricked her heart. She thought to destroy the vile underling, but maintained her wits about her. Instead she lengthened her neck and swirled her tail below her. “Am I not desirable?”

  The red dragon sneered hungrily.

  Siravel twirled elegantly before him, accentuating her length and curves. When she looked back to him she cocked her head coyly. “Perhaps if the king rejects my offer, you and I can come to an arrangement.”

  The red dragon’s nostrils flared and a puff of smoke came out. He broke the connection, but not before Siravel had seen his desire. “Such a thing is not permitted,” the red dragon spoke. “Yet, perhaps if we were to descend below now…” His words trailed off.

  Siravel smiled. A dragon’s lust was one trait that could be depended upon, and an independent, unclaimed queen was exactly the kind of prize any large dragon would aspire to keep for himself if possible. Siravel let her lips curl up into a smile and she swished her tail through the clouds, as if thinking the offer over. Meanwhile, she used her tongue to lift the dwarves onto her lower teeth so she could speak freely with her mouth. “To take me before the king has chosen would make me unfit to present myself,” she said coyly.

  “You are not a new queen,” the red dragon said. “I could kill you here and now, rather than allow you to present yourself at all.”

  Siravel turned her head away, as if the threat had any weight to it. “You would dishonor your king?” she pressed.

  “No dishonor in taking an unclaimed she-dragon,” the red dragon replied. “As I noted before, you are not young, and you have had a mate before.”

  Siravel felt the heat welling in her chest. How dare this brazen serpent accost her so with his words! Still, she played the part, pulling the sentry farther into her trap. “Very well. I don’t suppose I could turn away now. Shall we go below?” She twirled again in the air, flashing the underside of her tail toward him. The red dragon’s nostrils flared and fire seethed out.

  “Follow me, I know of a glade that is private.” He disappeared below the clouds. Siravel moved after him. The two dropped and flew slightly westward. The red dragon moved quickly, obviously excited by the prospect of his supposed conquest. He led her directly to a large glade, nestled within the bowl of a large crater.

  The red dragon dropped to the ground first and turned his head up to watch Siravel.

  Siravel opened her mouth and spat the dwarves out. The red dragon had not the time to spit fire before Siravel lighted upon him, talons ripping into his neck and torso, driving him to the ground. The six dwarf warriors fell upon him furiously, hacking and stabbing along the dragon’s chest and stomach, making quick work of the beast.

  With the sentry dead, Siravel cleaned herself with flame, destroying all evidence of the red dragon’s blood. The six dwarves cleaned their weapons and then stood ready.

  Siravel looked to them. “Stay close to my teeth, and leave my tongue free. If I am to beguile the king, I shall need to speak freely.” She bent down and opened her mouth to carry them again. She rose into the sky again, and this time was not confronted by anyone else until she reached the entrance of the mountain.

  A trio of greater dragons barred the way inside, with two score dwarves before them, pointing spears and crossbows at her. Two more dragons emerged from somewhere higher up on the spire and circled above them, ready to descend upon her within a moment.

  She bowed her head low, and went down to her belly upon the ground to show obeisance. “I am here to offer myself as a prize to your king.”

  The dragons said nothing. One of them, a silver and black speckled dragon with black wings turned and disappeared inside the mountain. He was gone for some time. Siravel understood that the king would likely look at her from a different vantage point before coming to face her in person. Therefore, she stretched her neck and tail, slowly swishing her tail from one side to another and casting one of her hind legs out to her side to accentuate the movements. If the king was watching somewhere, she wanted to put on as good of a demonstration as she could.

  Perhaps ten minutes passed before the speckled dragon returned. He stretched his wings, pushing the other dragons out to the side. “Duroryd will see you. Follow me.”

  Siravel slowly rose, making sure to keep her head low as a sign of submission as she walked. The other two dragons moved in behind her. She had already started her cycle, so she consciously used her scent glands to secret pheromones along with her scent, which would likely set the male dragons behind her a bit more at ease with her intrusion.

  They walked through the tunnel that she had seen in the green dragon’s memories. Her heart skipped as they rounded a bend in the tunnel and passed by the spawning chamber she had seen. She knew the egg she needed was in that den. Soon it would be hers, but first she needed the king.

  The caverns in this mountain were cooler than her home. Colder and damper. The moss and fungal spores exuded a nasty odor. What kind of king would make his home in such squalor? At least as they climbed higher within the mountain the air became dryer, and the mold and moss stopped.

  The dragons led her to a large chamber and ushered her inside. She inspected the walls, finding them crude and lacking compared to the ornate decorations and carving that ran throughout her mountain home. No gems adorned the walls or the ceiling. Darkness filled the chamber.

  A blue flame shot out from a large, silver snout. The flames spread across the black stone floor, smoke rising up as the blue fire curled upward. The light revealed a large, slender dragon lying near the back. His great, yellow eyes fixed on her.

  Siravel had to consciously remind herself to show submission. She bowed low with her head, extending her neck out to the side and swishing her tail side to side. Through her nostrils, so as not to scorch the dwarves in her mouth, she let out a small flame of orange and red, igniting the darkness before her.

  She heard a grunt in the darkness. Another blue flame erupted from the king, this time much larger. Light poured into the chamber, fully revealing both dragons. The king pushed up with his forelegs, revealing a broad chest with scrapes and scars across many of his scales. A pair of downturned horns curled to jut out over his snout. His nostrils flared and he stretched his wings. Siravel watched as the king’s yellow orbs roved over her body from tail to head, and then back to her hind quarters.

  The king brought his eyes up to meet hers. Siravel knew he would form the connection. She averted her eyes and looked to the floor. The king grunted and moved forward quickly. Siravel lowered her shoulders and shied away toward the wall, keeping her gaze down.

  “Why do you avoid my gaze?” the king asked in a surprisingly pleasant tone.

  Siravel lowered her head even more, keeping her neck and tail stretched to their fullest. “In truth, I am not a young queen,” she replied. “I am afraid you would reject me for this.”

&nb
sp; “Then why come at all?” the king asked. He moved his head closer to her and sniffed her skin. She slightly lifted her wings, and posted her posterior up high in the air, moving her tail methodically to spread her pheromones.

  “In truth, I have been sent by your son,” she lied. “He sent me as a prize for you.”

  The king lashed out with a lightning-fast strike and pinned her neck against the floor, clutching it threateningly in his talons. “Then tell me, temptress, why has my son not slain you?”

  Siravel shivered, but did not struggle against the king. “I was leaving my former king,” she lied. “When your son swept into the valley with his army, I returned and helped. You can see the fresh scars for yourself.”

  The king bathed the area in a bright flame and then moved in close to examine her scales. With the way her neck was pinned, there was no way for her to see his reactions, but she lifted her rump even higher into the air, and continued to spread her pheromones with her tail.

  The silver head soon slid back next to hers, the hot sulfuric breath pouring into her ear hole. “Then show me your eyes. Let me make the connection and see the truth of it.”

  “I am a queen,” Siravel said. “I have the right to come and go as I please. Either take the prize that is offered, or release me to find another who will.”

  The king emitted a low, long growl. “Show me your eyes.”

  Siravel turned her head as best she could and let him form the connection. She knew that any failure, the slightest weakness, would mean death. She felt the king’s probing mind come into hers. Siravel did not submit her whole mind to him though. She put up defenses and blocks, choosing which memories she showed him. Siravel sent her memories of the other queens, their deceit and treachery. Their petty backbiting. She then altered her memories of the battle. She showed him her fighting alongside the green dragon, instead of contesting against him. All the while, she concentrated on secreting as many pheromones as her body could produce. The king’s grip loosened on her neck, but with his mind he tried to probe against the images she showed him.