by Sam Ferguson
“You have no right to judge me. You are maim, and if you deny me I will kill you.”
Gorliad heard Dermarak’s words, and he saw the greater dragon’s silver head, but in his mind he saw Beleriad and Ceadryl. It was as if they had set upon him again. Here, over this secluded hill there was no tradition, nor was there any law. There was only chaos. Gorliad opened his mouth and unleashed all the fire within him. Demark did the same. The two flames clashed, neither melding nor passing through each other. Sparks and lightning rippled through the dragon fire cracking like thunder and searing the very air with sulfur’s potent odor.
Gorliad may not have had four legs, but he was much larger than Demark. The silver dragon was only thirty meters long and roughly twenty meters tall. Gorliad flew over the top and dropped upon Dermarak’s back. The two roared as Gorliad attacked the neck, biting and scraping at the hardened scales. Dermarak’s tail came over the top from behind and the knobby, club-like end smacked Gorliad across the right side of the head. A terrible ringing ripped through Gorliad’s skull and his vision went dark for a second. A taloned hand reached up and seized Gorliad’s neck. It pulled him down and then Demark climbed atop him. Gorliad’s vision returned just in time to see a snout full of fangs coming down at his neck.
The burgundy dragon maneuvered to the side and lashed out with his left foreleg, catching Demark across the eye. The silver dragon howled in pain and reared its head back. Gorliad pulled his hind legs under Dermarak’s belly and with all of his might he kicked twice, and then ripped his hind talons down the soft underbelly. A few scales came loose, and he was able to score a couple of gashes on Demark. The silver king tried to bring its tail in for a strike, but Gorliad slid away.
The burgundy dragon then pushed Demark off from him, throwing the silver king the rest of the distance down the hill. Without wasting a moment, Gorliad took to the air, gliding down and slamming into Dermarak’s side. He slid his head under the silver king and then jerked his head up and backward, driving his horns into Dermarak’s chest.
The silver king roared and twisted, reaching for Gorliad’s wings, but the burgundy dragon had expected that. He disentangled his horns from the silver dragon’s chest and struck out with his left foreleg. He thrust his talons through the base of Dermarak’s tail and pulled with all of his strength, ripping the appendage from the silver dragon.
Blood and gore spouted out from Dermarak’s rump. The silver dragon fell to his side, moaning in agony. Blood streaked down from its chest and oozed out around several scales in Dermarak’s abdomen as well.
“How is this possible?” Demark wailed. “You are a servant!”
“I am no one’s slave.” Gorliad moved in for the kill. He lashed out, curling around so his tail could deliver one more whipping blow to Dermarak’s head. It struck its mark, blasting the dragon down to the ground, dazing it. Gorliad then moved in, driving his left talons into the soft flesh under Dermarak’s jaw. He pulled the silver king’s neck out and reached down with a terrible bite, severing the silver skull from the body.
Gorliad rested the rest of the night there with the bloody carcass and the severed head. He wasn’t sure if it was a result of the excitement, but it appeared to him that the lights he had tried to follow now shone brighter than ever they had before.
With the rise of the sun, he flew back toward the mountain. He gripped the silver head in his hind talons, carrying it back to the mountain. Several times he had to stop and rest, but he made it to the main entrance of the mountain just before mid-morning. The dwarves and dragons on the platform looked to Gorliad, and then to the severed head. None of them were sure what to do.
Gorliad heard a couple of the dwarves ask if it was a dragon from their mountain or not. A couple dwarves said they were certain it was not, but had no idea where it had come from. Finally, one of the dragon sentries came to its proper senses.
An orange and black dragon stepped forward. “Is the mountain in danger?” he asked.
Gorliad shook his head. The blood from the night’s battle still painted across his underbelly. “There was a single dragon, on the outside of the border, near the king’s hold.”
“You were outside the kingdom?” the dragon asked.
“Go and get the king.”
“You do not order me, servant,” the orange and black dragon said.
“He is right, someone has to alert the king,” one of the dwarves said.
The sentry ceded the point and disappeared into the mountain. He returned a few minutes later. “The king will see you inside.”
Gorliad nodded. He bent down and took one of the silver horns in his mouth and carried the skull in to the mountain. He felt a swell of pride within his breast when he saw dragons and dwarves parting before him. He heard them whispering amongst themselves. The dwarves stopped to gawk at the severed head, the dragons sniffed at it, but none dared cross him now.
The burgundy dragon even saw Ceadryl gawking at him from one of the tunnels leading into the main hall. Gorliad stopped and winked at the green-backed dragon. Ceadryl remained silent, but tendrils of smoke slithered out from his flared nostrils. It was almost funny to see his former tutor now. Gorliad was now larger than him, much larger, and Ceadryl could say nothing to dispute the skull he held in his mouth. The green-backed dragon turned and disappeared down the tunnel.
Gorliad continued up until he reached the grand hall. Inside stood his father, mother, and brother. He stopped in the entrance. He realized then that he had not seen them for seven years. Beleriad was bigger, but not nearly as large as Gorliad had become. The burgundy dragon’s father even looked smaller. Gorliad was perhaps a head taller than the king now. That didn’t make the meeting any less intimidating, however.
Siravel looked at Gorliad, but she did not smile. Her eyes went to the dismembered head and then she shot an awkward glance at Beleriad. Geldryn, on the other hand, stood proud and watched Gorliad without expression on his face.
“Come in,” Geldryn said in a calm voice. “Tell me of what dragon you saw.”
Gorliad walked in proudly, doing his best to hide his limp. He set the silver head on the stone before the king and bowed down for a moment to show respect. Then he looked up. He stood eye to eye with the king, smiling, waiting for some sign of emotion from his father.
Geldryn glanced down to the head and chuckled softly. “Do you know his name?”
“His name was Demark,” Gorliad replied. “He was a greater dragon that I found on the outskirts of the southern border.”
“No,” Geldryn said decisively. “This was no greater dragon. This was a king.”
Gorliad’s eyes widened. He looked down to the head and stared at it. “He was significantly smaller than me, I thought him too small to be a king.”
“You have grown large,” Geldryn said. “Yet you do not spend enough time with dragons to know just how large you are in comparison. I believe you will find most in the mountain are smaller than you now.”
Gorliad nodded. He looked up to his father, and puffed out his chest. “I have conquered Dermarak’s lands for you.” He glanced to his mother, who only stared back at him blankly. His voice cracked when he next spoke. “Demark claimed a tract of land to the south, it is not a large parcel compared with your kingdom, but everything that was his I now offer to you.”
Geldryn nodded quietly and looked to Beleriad for a moment, then to Siravel. “It is no small feat to defeat a king, even if he was smaller than you. Especially with you being maim, and all.” Geldryn fixed his eyes on Gorliad’s right foreleg. The burgundy dragon felt himself shrink until he swore he was no bigger than a hatchling before the king’s gaze. “Still, I cannot accept your offer. It is not fitting for a servant to claim such gifts for the king. No matter how noble the battle, tradition dictates that I must turn down the offered prize.”
“Then I am to keep it for myself?” Gorliad asked.
“Be quiet while the king speaks, servant!” Siravel snapped.
Gorli
ad’s throat seized on him. His mouth opened and he looked at his mother. She glowered back at him with her gold-speckled green eyes. He found no warmth there, as he had years before. Her compassion for him had dried away long ago. It appeared that all she harbored for him in those beautiful eyes of hers was a cold resentment and disdain. He bowed his head, not out of respect, but from the weight of his broken soul. His eyes watered and his knees slackened.
In that moment, he would give anything to see the look on their faces that they had shown when he killed the she-bear. Was a king not a good enough prize to win back some of their favor? Was he fallen so far below them that even this did not remind them of who he had once been? He stood there, head bowed low, waiting for the king to speak and wishing all the while that he had never returned.
“You have done your king a great service,” Geldryn said. “For that you have my thanks. As for the tract of land, perhaps the prince will lay claim to it, if he wishes.” Geldryn turned his head to address the young, black dragon. “What say you, Beleriad, have you a desire for the land?”
Beleriad stepped forward. “Perhaps I will take this land, and use it as my new hunting ground. Anything that creeps or walks upon the land shall become my quarry.”
The words harrowed up the memory of the beaver pond in Gorliad’s mind. He looked up to Beleriad, careful to choke back his tears of shame before revealing his face again. “If it pleases you, my prince, I would be honored for you to make use of the land.”
“Oh, it pleases me,” Beleriad said. “I will take Ceadryl there and together he and I will burn and scorch every living thing thereon.” He stepped in closer. “After all, if the land’s ruler could be conquered by a lame servant, than surely the animals found there must be stricken with some sort of foul disease. So we will take sport in the hunt, and then burn the diseased flesh from existence, so as to protect our lands.”
Gorliad nodded.
“You may leave now, servant,” Siravel said.
“As you wish,” Gorliad replied. He turned and walked out form the grand hall, but he deliberately left at a normal pace. He was not about to show them how deeply their words and demeanor had wounded him. As he reached the exit, Beleriad called out after him.
“And servant,” he said. “Do be careful if you hunt outside the bounds of the kingdom. Anything can happen out there you know. The wilds are a most dangerous place.”
Gorliad turned and narrowed his fierce, white eyes on the black dragon. “Thank you my prince, you are quite right. One should be most careful in the wilds. Anything can happen to one who flies alone.” Gorliad sneered when he saw the words had struck their mark. Beleriad’s mouth fell ajar and he took a pace back. The threat was understood by the prince. If the king and queen noticed it, they did not show it. They were busy looking at the silver head and talking with each other.
The burgundy dragon left the mountain. He was set to return to the hill where Dermarak’s body lay. He was not going to allow Beleriad the pleasure of eating the conquered king’s heart. That, he would do himself. Then he would scatter the body so as to add insult to his threat. Should the prince find the courage to venture out, he would see Gorliad’s contempt for himself.
Chapter 22
Gorliad arrived at the hilltop shortly before dusk. He descended upon the carcass to see that it had already been stripped of much of the meat. He laughed to himself. It was ironic that other beasts had beaten him to it. He walked up to the remains and used a talon to turn the body over. The heart was gone. The burgundy dragon smiled and looked out to the south. Soon the stars would be appearing. Perhaps after that he would see his beloved aurora as well.
As he stood there, his ears heard a sound just a few meters away. It sounded like hurried breathing, but the pattern did not match any animal he could think of. It was too large to be a deer, and too small to be a bear. Yet, the breath’s pace was quickened so that whatever being it belonged to was surely afraid. Gorliad looked to a large boulder. He saw puffs of steam shooting into the air from behind the rock.
“Come out,” Gorliad said. “Whatever you are, you have no need to fear me.”
The breathing stopped.
Gorliad took a step closer and craned his neck to see over the rock. “Come on out, I mean you no harm.”
Still, nothing moved.
The burgundy dragon circled around the rock. He spotted a red haired, red bearded dwarf huddled against the rock. He held an axe and was dressed in crude leather armor. The dwarf saw that he was discovered and came out from near the rock. “Well, go on then, eat me if you will or kill me and scatter my bones if you must.”
Gorliad smiled. “I don’t like the taste of dwarf. Too sour.” As he studied the dwarf, he couldn’t help but feel as though he had seen him before, but he couldn’t place where or when. “Do I know you?” he asked.
The dwarf raised his axe. He made a series of clicking noises.
Faint movement behind him caught Gorliad’s ear. He turned his head and saw a flash of green and blue darting in and around the rocks near the hill’s crest. He sniffed the air. He knew it was a drake. Gorliad turned his attention back to the dwarf, only to discover that the red-bearded warrior was nowhere to be seen.
“Come now,” Gorliad said. “Show yourself.”
Nothing answered him.
He launched up into the air, tired of the silence. He would gain a better vantage point and find the dwarf. He rose up into the air and looked down. A blue and green streak darted below, flying but hugging close to the ground. Gorliad followed the drake and then spied the red-bearded dwarf. As the drake flew in to catch the dwarf, Gorliad looked to the butchered remains. At that moment, he knew who had taken the meat. He dropped back to the ground and stood watching as the dwarf leapt atop the drake and the two started to fly out to the east.
“The least you can do is thank me for the meat you stole from me,” Gorliad called out. The dwarf turned back and looked at him, but they flew on. Gorliad then thought of Beleriad’s promise to kill anything in the tract of land that belonged to Demark. He shouted out to the dwarf. “If there are others here, you are all in danger. Geldryn’s son comes from the north, and he has promised to destroy this tract of land and all creatures in it.”
Gorliad watched the drake fly on for a few moments. Then, inexplicably the drake turned, making a wide arc and coming around. The dwarf hooked his axe on the saddle and the drake flew in low to the ground again. Fifty meters from Gorliad, the dwarf jumped off the drake, rolling when he hit the ground. The drake then circled out wide back toward the east.
“He will fly and alert the others if you deal falsely with me,” the dwarf shouted as he walked closer to Gorliad.
“I have no reason to deal falsely with anyone,” Gorliad said.
The dwarf studied Gorliad and then his eyes stopped on the deformed right foreleg. “Your size would suggest you are Geldryn’s son, but your lame leg tells me that you cannot lay claim to land. How am I to solve the riddle?”
“Riddle?” Gorliad repeated. “There is no riddle to solve. I am the prince that was, but is not. The prince that was not, but is, shall come here soon and lay waste to this land.”
“Why do you speak so that I cannot understand you?”
Gorliad smiled. “You mentioned a riddle. I thought I would offer you a simple one. If you wish to speak plainly, then let us both be as friends and speak the blunt words of truth.”
“A dragon has no friends,” the dwarf said.
“I do,” Gorliad said. “They are few in number, but their worth to me is more than all the gold in Geldryn’s mountain.” He leaned in closer with his head. The dwarf quickly avoided the dragon’s gaze. “Something tells me that you have friends as well.”
“Why would you say that?” the dwarf asked.
“Unless you have the appetite of two dragons, you did not consume all of Demark yourself. My guess is you are gathering meat for others.”
“I am alone, animals ravaged the carcass bef
ore I found it,” the dwarf replied.
“Then why return when I warned of danger? Why not stay upon your drake and continue to fly away?”
“The dwarf said nothing.
Gorliad smiled. “I do not care where your friends are, but I would ask you listen to me. I was born a prince, but my crippled leg has taken my birthright from me. However, Geldryn has another son, and that prince has promised to come to this land and destroy everything in it.”
“Why?” the dwarf asked.
Gorliad shook his head. “Honestly, it is all a mistake. I followed the lights in the sky last night. I landed on this very hill and then I defeated Demark in battle.” Gorliad gestured with a single talon at the silver dragon’s remains. “I was foolish enough to believe my father would accept my offering and afford me some place of rank within the mountain for my triumph. Instead, he cast it aside. Now my younger brother desires to come and burn it out of his spite for me.”
“Why tell me this?” the dwarf asked. “You have no reason to show me any compassion.”
Gorliad nodded. “I would show you the last dwarf that showed me a measure of compassion some seven years ago. Would you allow me to make the connection with you? I will show you all that I speak of is true.”
“Dragons can use the connection to sow lies in the minds of dwarves,” the dwarf said.
“If you distrust me, I will not force it. However, I would suggest that you, and whatever band of dwarves you are with, escape from this land as fast as you can. My brother will not show mercy, for he has no heart.”
“What band?” the dwarf responded with a huff. “There is no one with me.”
“You expect me to believe that you ate all of that meat yourself, with no left over pieces nearby to show for your feast?” Gorliad mocked.
The dwarf stood for a while, looking into Gorliad’s white eyes. He nodded once. “Show me your friends then.”
Gorliad formed the connection and showed him his memories of Forlean, the beavers, and Dalean. Then he broke the connection. “Have I earned your trust now?” Gorliad asked.
