Of Dark Elves And Dragons

by Greg Curtis

  It was black ahead; indeed the entire cavern was filled with an inky blackness that defied the ability of his eyes to pierce it, and no sooner had he dressed then Alan found himself almost tip toeing his way into the darkness. The floor at least was smooth, worn so by the passage of dragon feet over many eons, and he knew that this lair was ancient. Maybe, and it was only a legend, this was even the lair of the queen herself, ten thousand years old if she was a day, and the matriarch of her people. It certainly felt old enough.

  Inside, just as it had in the caverns of the ancients, light suddenly appeared, though this time it wasn’t from stone torches affixed into walls. Rather, it was because the cavern itself seemed to glow with a soft white light, and while that surprised him, it made things much easier as he could see the path ahead. Naturally there was only one.

  He followed the path nervously, his feet making small slapping sounds as they hit the hard smooth floor which echoed down into the gloom, while all the time he felt like an ant would in a human hall way, the size difference was about the same. All around him the walls of the cavern shot up as high as the height of the tallest buildings, while the width was surely great enough that a dragon could walk it with his wings stretched wide. This cavern couldn’t be natural he realized, and yet he couldn’t imagine how anyone could have created it.

  Strangest of all he couldn’t get a feel for what lay ahead through his magic either though his magical senses were jangling. Perhaps because of it. The whole cavern was surrounded by life and magic so powerful that it was like staring into the sun and trying to see if there were fires lit on it. It simply swamped his senses, blinding him. Then again, given where he was that was surely to be expected.

  Five hundred and some steps later, the gigantic cavern took a turn to the left and all of a sudden his magical senses which were already overloaded started screaming at him. Something immensely big and full of life and magic lay ahead of him and there was only one thing that could be; Sera. Still he had to go on and so slowly - very slowly, he somehow kept putting one foot in front of the other.

  Three hundred more steps passed uneventfully until he could just make out something in the gloom ahead; two golden glowing orbs hanging twenty or more feet into the air. It took him a second or two to understand, but then he realized that they were eyes. Dragon eyes. And they were waiting for him. He’d found his destination. He continued on, covering those final few hundred steps, until he was perhaps fifty feet from the ancient behemoth, and her bulk filled his entire view.

  At this distance he knew he was well inside her range of fire, and a single snort from her would have left him a crispy husk of a man; no mere mortal’s magic was sufficient to protect him from true dragon fire. But at least he could see her, the torches in the walls shedding some light on her.

  She wasn’t completely white as the legends had told. In fact in the torchlight she was an iridescent mix of colours, but she was female, nursing a brood of eggs which he could just make out behind her, each as tall as two men standing, and he guessed he’d found the queen of the lair. Sera as the black dragon had named her, and the one who had sent for him. For the longest time he stared at her, unsure what to say, while she stared back at him, her eyes impassive and cool as she studied him. But she said nothing and he had the horrible feeling he was supposed to say something.

  “Hello.” It wasn’t much as greetings went, and his voice sounded tiny and weak in the vastness of the cavern and her presence, but he hoped it was enough. A large part of him also hoped it wasn’t and that he would be allowed to slink out of this cavern like a mouse of no consequence, but unharmed. It wasn’t to be. She’d noticed him.

  “So small.” Her voice was musical and magical both. The sound of air flowing over waterfalls and through caverns until it sang like a choir, it was beautiful and most important of all, calm. She didn’t sound either surprised or angry. Just curious and perhaps a little amused. Definitely amused. That he hoped, was a good thing, especially when she lowered her head a little on its long sinuous neck to get a better look at him. Of course a cat was probably amused with a mouse, just before it ate it.

  “To create so much change, so much turmoil, so many storm winds, and yet to be so small.” Was change good or bad? Alan didn’t know, but he suspected bad from the way the blood all down his back was freezing. He’d disturbed the dragons and that was never a good thing. It was like a mouse disturbing a cat, except that the mouse had a much better chance of fleeing than he did. And her head was so close that he could make out the huge teeth, and see the nostrils above from which he understood, came the fire. He could actually feel her breath on his flesh.

  “How may I serve you Great One?” The words came out of his mouth almost unbidden, and yet they were exactly what he wanted to say. For not only was the queen of dragons undeniably mighty and held the power of life and death over him, she was also right to judge him. That much he could feel coming from her. Age or rather the passing of thousands of years, for she wasn’t old by her own terms, meant that she bore the wisdom of time, and the righteousness that came from being intrinsically bound to the land itself from birth. Both were present in her thoughts, along with a certain amusement at his squirming.

  “Be at ease small one. It is only a few weeks since I last ate, and you would not make a decent snack.” That he could believe. He was barely as large as her teeth which he could see only too clearly as she smiled, he suspected for his discomfort. But she could still use him as a toothpick.

  “I wish you to tell me of all that you have done these past weeks, all that has disturbed our rest so.” Disturbed her rest? Alan didn’t like the sound of that. Dragons were said to be very partial to their sleep, passing years and even centuries dreaming in their lairs. There might well be serious consequences for waking them up.

  Understanding that it wasn’t a request he began his tale from the time that Cathaylee and the child had come riding through his land and included everything he could think of until the black dragon Han’gre had come for him, and the queen listened to every word intently. That seemed wrong somehow. That she, someone so great should bother with the words of someone so small as himself.

  “So you saved a woman and child from their hunters, and they returned the favour by asking you to aid their people in a battle. Then, to do that and save your kin from the repercussions of having awoken a first evil two hundred years ago, you agreed to awaken a second ancient evil, in order that they might aid you against another still greater evil. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, you decided to remove a king by force leaving a land in chaos. Have I got that about right little one?” She had the bones of it, and in truth it wasn’t a question. She just wanted to hear it from his own lips, and then perhaps, hear an explanation. He already knew he’d done wrong somewhere, even if he still couldn’t quite work out where. It was of course his fault as always.

  “Yes Majesty, but with some small differences. I didn’t really save Cathaylee, I simply got rid of a pack of evil men and their beasts. They should not be in my forest. And the Huron are not evil. I have met them and they are good people.” Which they were, but what he considered good and what the queen of dragons considered good might be completely different things.

  “And you like them, as we once did when they were young so many years ago. And therein lies the tragedy that befell us all. Evil walks in all shapes, wears many faces, and sometimes fools even itself. You are right. They are a warm and friendly people, but they are also rash and unwise, quick to action and slow to think of the consequences, and above all else, they are uncaring of the land and obsessed with power. Thousands of years ago they very nearly destroyed this world because of that lack of care, and that is surely the very definition of evil.”

  “They had all the knowledge and skill they needed to live well and grow in wisdom and years. They wanted more, and in their impatience and hunger they had to have it immediately. And so they began studying, learning, finding ways to rip ever more power out
of the lands, taking what could not be given, all without ever knowing or feeling the cost. They had lost their connection to the land and they let it die around them. And when a few of them saw the chance for even more power and perhaps even immortality with it by taking that which their fellow Huron had already taken, they took that as well, and started a devastating war.”

  “But the war was not what destroyed so much of the land as they have claimed and no doubt you believe, it was just the violent end of a long illness. Long before it began the land was suffering as the magic was being ripped out of it faster than it could be restored.” And without the magic it died. Alan understood that much. Life and magic were intimately linked. Without one you couldn’t have the other. Not even the life of the earth and the mountains. And the queen he suddenly realized, wasn’t about to let them do it again. Not at any cost. He could feel the sadness within her, but also the resolve.

  “Yes Majesty. But I would beseech you not to kill them. Even if we did not need them to fight the necromancer, they are a kind and loving people who have barely survived a terrible ordeal, and it would be a stain upon virtue to harm them.” In her company Alan knew he had no option but to beg for their lives. He could not have stopped her.

  “And you are infatuated with them. I see that too. So much so that you would even stand against us as we did our duty. You who are one of our chosen mages. You whom they have already betrayed by moving in to your lands though you forgive them. They are just returned and already they cause dissension in our ranks.”

  “Chosen mage your Majesty?” Alan had no idea what that meant, or why he should suddenly be filled with hope, pride and fear at the mention of the word. And since when had he been part of her ranks? Not that he was going to ask. If she said he was part of her ranks, he was. It wasn’t a choice.

  “Go with our good friend Anthony and begin your training, and know that we will not willingly kill your friends. They are like our own children, precious and sweet and dear to our hearts. But we cannot allow them to return to their old ways and reclaim their power over this world. We cannot allow them to pass that knowledge on to others. Our course is clear. We can destroy their wizard tomes and weapons, and we can bind their powers. But only if they let us, and that is always their decision, not ours and not yours. If they do not, we will have to be harsh with them. You should not be present for that little one.” Her words could only mean death as far as Alan could tell, and she was right, he didn’t want to be there for that. He didn’t want it to happen at all.

  “Perhaps if I was able to speak with them, I might be able to persuade them?” Though what hope he truly had he didn’t know, when most of them seemed to look down upon him as some sort of second class hedge wizard. Dragons on the other hand, would make an impression wherever they went.

  “Then again you could come with me as Sera has instructed.” He felt a man’s hand on his shoulder, with a firm grip starting to pull him away, and knew his interview was over. Yet he didn’t want to go. Not when so many innocent lives were at stake, even if they weren’t so innocent as he’d thought.

  “Sera, there is one among them, Dava Falconer, and his family. He is a leader and a wise man. If you can convince him, he will convince others. Tell him that I would beg him not to fight another war that cannot be won. That I will gladly teach all of those who accept the binding of their arcane powers the ways of druidic magic. That I will offer them protection and sanctuary in my lands for as long as they need. That their children will prosper and their people grow once more in strength, but grow in your law with it. This I will vow to all who accept your commands.” It wasn’t much Alan knew, not compared to the loss of one’s magic, but it was all he could offer.

  The queen gave no sign that she heard him as she stared into the inky blackness, but then she’d already closed the discussion and to do so would be to acknowledge him again and pay him more respect than he was due; much more.

  “Come little brother, there is much for us to teach you, and much more for you to learn, such as respect for the queen and her teachers.” Alan turned in the man’s grip to find himself facing a human of advancing years, perhaps a hundred or so, but still wearing armour and still looking decidedly fit. Instead of a sword however, he carried a quarterstaff of gnarled wood, which would probably have made a serviceable weapon in its own right, even without the magic that obviously flowed through it, and that was considerable.

  His face told of a man determined to maintain his calm, proper demeanour as he did what he must, his voice spoke of someone well raised, cultured and knowledgeable, while the strength of his grip spoke of one familiar with hard work and quite probably weapons training. In many ways the man reminded him of the senior knights of his father’s Order, and Alan knew better than to defy him again.

  Just in case Alan had had any thoughts of once more regaling the queen with his impudent pleas, the man was already dragging him toward a side tunnel he hadn’t seen before, caught up as he had been with Sera. He noticed that there were a whole length of smaller tunnels beyond it. Tunnels designed for creatures of more mortal size then dragons, though maybe a hatchling could use them. A very small hatchling.

  “Who are you?” No doubt he should have been more polite, more respectful of one who obviously consorted with dragons, but he was still too shaken to consider his words and he just blurted them out like a child. His father would not have been impressed.

  “Anthony Gypson, Acolyte of the House of Sera. But you may call me Ant.” At least he didn’t seem upset with his rudeness, but then Alan had the feeling that this wasn’t a man who ever got upset. His eyes were calm, his voice measured, and Alan guessed he would always be the same, no matter how dire or difficult the situation. This was a gentleman of great self-control, not a wild child.

  “House of…?” Suddenly a copper dropped and Alan finally remembered where he’d heard the queen’s name before. The House of Sera.

  Though he knew little of them, the members of the House of Sera were a well-respected if little known group, shadowy figures who wandered the lands so it was rumoured, occasionally teaching, sometimes healing, sometimes passing along wisdom or messages. They also it was said, though no one but the nobles would know for sure, acted as emissaries at the highest levels. No one really knew much about them, at least not among those he dealt with, but then he had no dealings with those of high station. Most thought them harmless monks and wanderers, though they had a habit of being where trouble arose and quelling it where they could.

  His father had spoken of them a few times as he recalled. Spoken fondly of them in truth, though he had said little. Just that they were good people to know, and that they had good words to give.

  And yet if Sera, the head of their house was a dragon, in fact a queen if not the queen of dragons, then they were in fact powerful wizards and emissaries, no doubt carrying out the will of the dragons. That made them very well connected indeed.

  That understanding in turn implied that other commonly held beliefs about the dragons weren’t accurate either. For a start it implied that the dragons weren’t asleep. That they didn’t completely ignore the world of mortals as so many claimed. If the House of Sera was their house, as it apparently was, then it meant that the dragons did take an interest in the world of man, and that they acted. They sent their emissaries out to carry their words. Alan wondered how many other people had guessed that as they stared at the various known dragon lairs throughout the world and avoided them, not wanting to wake the sleeping dragons.

  There would have been little or no point in their actions however. The dragons were apparently already awake and watching. No doubt they’d also noticed those wandering too close to their lairs. Yet how had they noticed him?

  That Alan didn’t understand. While he wasn’t on the lookout for dragons, he was fairly sure he would have noticed one if it had flown by. And the knowledge the queen had about him, about even his magic; that said that they had to have some very good eyes on him. No
doubt those of their servants. But which of their servants had he met? And how had even they known of his magic when he usually roamed the lands as a simple woodsman? Still those were questions for another time.

  “And if I may, I’ll call you Alan.” They entered the first of the more normally sized passages and finally Alan could see some of the true network of tunnels that made up the mountain. Every twenty yards along the passage way another tunnel branched off, some heading slightly up, some slightly down, and he knew that they connected to the other dragon passages, nests and lairs. But each of them was so long that even as he peeked down them he couldn’t see the ends.

  “Please do.” Not that he really had a choice, but Alan preferred being called by his given name normally anyway. Especially by those who should be friends and despite everything else he knew this man should be a friend of his. If he had the ear of the queen of dragons he definitely didn’t want him to be upset with him.

  “Of course as far as your tutors go, you will be known as neophyte Alan during your lessons.”

  “Lessons?” Alan was caught by surprise by the word and the idea, and the fact that they were going to call him a neophyte, which as far as he could recall right then, was some sort of apprentice priest. But then an acolyte was a priest as well so it made sense in that way. Except he wasn’t the priestly sort, nor did he want to return to school and lessons again. Those days were long behind him. These days he studied fairly much what he wanted, when he wanted, and for the most part it was just magic.