by Adam Drake
Good point, Rob thought. “Consequences be damned,” he said and gently tapped at the chisel with the hammer.
It took several tries, but eventually a long thin sliver of stone chipped off and fell to the bottom of the recess with a click.
Rob's world shifted.
One moment, he was hunched over the Cornerstone, hammer and chisel in hand. The next, he was flying through a stormy sky.
Confused, he looked at his surroundings. Dark clouds flew past him, bolts of lightning crackling between them. Cold rain pelted his face and soaked his beard.
What the hell? Had he been teleported?
He soon realized that he wasn't actually flying, but sat on something which carried him. Looking down beneath him, his eyes widened in horror.
A dragon. He recognized it instantly although he was atop this one, as opposed to being trapped in its talons. Its long thick neck undulated up and down, its colossal head as big as a tank. Huge scales covered its massive body, each as reflective as glass, and dark as ebony.
Rob straddled the base of its neck upon a large saddle, his legs inside leather folds to keep from falling off. Corded straps extended from the saddle and vanished beneath scales, keeping the saddle secured to the great beast's body.
Hearing a deep flapping noise, Rob turned his head to see great and magnificent wings beating rhythmically at its sides. Acres of dense membrane caught the strong winds of the storm.
Oh, my god, he thought, aghast. What was going on?
To his horror, the dragon turned its head to angle one giant eye at him. It nictated once and a loud rumbling emanated from its throat.
Rob suddenly realized it wasn't him it was looking at. Holding onto the saddle's large pommel, he turned in his seat.
The massive body of the dragon, along with its incredible tail, extended behind like some nightmarish armored train. The reflection of a nearby lightning bolt, from within the clouds, played along the creature's scales and for a brief moment Rob felt a sense of vertigo. But his urgent need to vomit evaporated when things in the sky behind him caught his eye.
There were other dragons, dozens of them. As they drifted in and out of the passing clouds, Rob could see each carried a rider, too. Were they chasing him?
One drifted closer, and the rider placed a fist to its chest, which was encased in deep green armor. It nodded its head, its full helmet covering its face. But Rob could see the individual's eyes within, which appeared to billow with a strangely glowing black smoke.
Uh oh, Rob thought. He looked down at his own body.
He, too, was covered in the same green armor. A wicked looking glass sword glowed within a translucent sheath at his hip. Then it hit him; they weren't chasing him, he was one of them.
Suddenly, his dragon gurgled and let out a ear-shattering roar.
Rob looked up to see they were emerging from the storm clouds, the land below revealed.
It was a hellscape nightmare.
A dark wasteland extended in all directions, deep crevices and molten rivers of lava zigzagged across the land. He caught glimpses of movement below. Figures moved, each armed with bizarre weapons and wearing the same green armor. They moved in the same direction he was; toward a huge mountain.
As they sped closer, Rob realized it wasn't a mountain at all, but a castle. So huge it boggled the mind. From behind impossibly high walls bristled hundreds of towers with complexes of buildings clustered at their base.
The ground beneath soon became thick with armored figures, many defying description. All moved toward the vast castle where hordes of others massed together.
His dragon dipped lower to the ground, its huge shadow passing over the army below. Soldiers turned to look up, and to Rob's surprised, raised their arms and cheered.
Cheered him.
Oh, god. Cold realization finally caught up to his bewildered mind. Those were his soldiers; his army. He looked back at the other dragons who's riders appeared to be looking at him.
Waiting for him to issue a command.
Oh, god, no! He tried to shout the words, but nothing escaped his lips. Instead, he watched as, unbidden, he reached down and unsheathed his sword. Holding it up toward the sky, a bolt of lightning arced down from the clouds and struck its tip. It glowed brightly and vibrated in his grasp.
What was he doing? No, he wasn't doing anything, he was watching. Like that strange movie when he first arrived, but this time he was a part of it.
Suddenly, his dragon arched its wings and beat against the air, coming to a stop. It hovered before the wall.
Wide-eyed, Rob looked up where figures rushed along distant battlements. Then his attention was drawn to the other dragon-riders who came to a hover along the wall.
Helpless, Rob watched as he pointed his glowing sword at the wall and muttered a strange alien word. Lightning blasted from the sword and hit the wall. His dragon suddenly belched a torrent of magma at it.
The other riders followed suit, hitting the wall with a variety of beams, lightning and other strange, unidentifiable magics. Their dragons spat out flames, and ice, and clouds of crackling energy.
In seconds, they'd punched a massive hole in the wall, exposing the buildings beyond. Rob could see people and soldiers running around in terror, within.
Below, the army surged through the gap and engaged with the surprised defenders.
Rob's dragon moved forward through the gap and over the city. It blasted buildings and clusters of shrieking people, reducing each to molten piles.
The other dragon-riders did the same.
Horrified, Rob found his mouth was open and he was shouting – shouting in horror at what he was doing.
No, not shouting in horror, he realized.
Shouting in triumph.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rob found himself spread eagle on the floor, staring up at the wooden ceiling. He blinked in confusion. What just happened?
Someone leaned over him and it took a moment for him to recognize it was Fenton.
“Are you okay, your highness?” The young builder looked gravely worried.
“Yeah,” Rob said, slowly sitting up. His head was pounding and stars danced before his eyes. “Just peachy.”
Fenton helped him stand. “You chiseled the cornerstone and then flew across the room like you'd been smacked by a cave bear.”
“How long was I out?”
“Out? I don't think for a second if at all.”
“Really?” The vision, if that's what it was, felt like several minutes. Long minutes. “Are you sure?”
“Maybe I should get Saif,” Fenton said, moving to the stairs.
But Rob stopped him with a wave. “No need. I'm fine. It's okay.” He looked at the cornerstone. The exposed part he'd cut away was black and shiny.
Like dragon scales.
Rob rubbed the back of his head. “Actually, maybe it's best we don't tell Saif about this at all. Okay?”
“Uh, if you're certain, your highness. But you do look a little pale. Can I get you some water?”
“No, I'm fine,” Rob said as he knelt next to the cornerstone. He resisted the temptation to touch the blacked corner. Something told him it wouldn't lead to anything good. The sliver lay at the bottom of the hole. It looked white and unblemished.
Before reaching down, he removed a leather glove from his pouch and put it on. As he pinched the sliver between his fingers he winced in anticipation, but nothing happened. Relieved, he stood. “So, what do I do with it now?”
“Tie this around the middle so it can hang freely,” Fenton said, holding out a long thick thread.
With some effort, and several attempts, Rob managed to tie the thread to the middle of sliver so it hung perpendicular to the floor.
“Okay, what now?” Rob asked, looking at it with naked suspicion.
“Hold the thread at the end.”
Rob did, and immediately the sliver slowly turned and stopped. It looked to be pointing both southeast and northwest. Curiou
s, he moved around the room and found the sliver consistently pointed southeast, regardless of where he moved.
“Like a compass,” Rob said. “I guess you guys don't have a magnetic north here.”
“Magnetic? Is that a type of magic?”
“Kind of,” Rob said. Satisfied it worked he carefully placed it within a piece of cloth Fenton gave him and put both in a pouch. He had his direction, now he needed to start walking.
“Are you sure you're okay, your highness? I've never seen anything like that before, with any Foundation Stone. I'm beginning to think we made a mistake.”
“Don't worry. It pointed in a direction just like you said. Those rumors were right and now I don't have to spend my time searching the entire world. Thanks.”
Rob pat him on the shoulder, and Fenton grinned.
“If feels good to do something exciting,” the builder said. “Setting blocks year after year gets boring.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes doing something exciting can get you killed,” Rob said as they went back upstairs. “I should know.” He needed to gear up and head out. It was late morning and he didn't want to waste anymore daylight.
As he left the tower, he found Fenton trailing behind him. “Hey, thanks for everything, but I'll be fine now.”
Fenton frowned and for a moment Rob was reminded of Michael's disappointed expression. “Are you sure? I'd like to help more. You don't know if that stone messed with your head. I can keep an eye on you.”
Rob glanced around to make sure Saif wasn't nearby. “Look, kid, thanks, but from here on out, I'm on my own. It's for the best.” Besides, he wouldn't stand getting this guy killed when he had trouble staying alive himself.
He turned and walked across the courtyard, his bare feet slapping on the stone. Trenton and Benton were at the far end, placing a block on top of the wall. The older builder gave him a worried glance.
Avoiding the village, and the mass of people staring at the stone slab, he walked down the steep hill to his cabin. Inside, he found a new set of clothes, including boots. Gifts from the supplies the Trogs had given them. Rob didn't doubt this would be the last of it, too.
After washing up, and his muddy feet, he dressed. As he was pulling on the leather boots, Saif entered without knocking. “Ah, I see you found your new clothes. Excellent.”
Rob sighed. “Could you please knock next time? This isn't a barn, you know.” Part of him missed dead-bolt locks and electronic alarm systems.
“Sorry, sire, but I wanted to bring you this. Fumi found it in one of the supply crates.” It was a new leather jerkin, unblemished from combat.
“Hey, thanks,” Rob said and put it on, cinching up the straps on its side.
“Yes, the crazy woman wanted to make it into mittens for the new bread-ovens.”
“We have bread ovens?” Rob's mouth watered at the thought of freshly baked bread.”
“Not yet, my Lord. Those should come with the new mess hall once the village turns into a town.”
“What? A mess hall? We get one of those?” Rob said, absentmindedly. He looked around for his buckler and found it leaning beneath the window.
“Yes. At least, the basic structure of one. We'd have to build it ourselves, I believe. I can't be sure. I've never been present when a Town Foundation Stone has been placed.”
Maybe it would be like the castle, Rob thought. All the building materials appearing as if by magic. Only need to assemble the parts. “Well, I've got to find the Stone first, and I have no idea how long that'll take.”
Saif was about to speak when Rob cut him off. “I know, Saif. We need supplies, too. My priorities are goblins, Foundation Stone, and supplies. What order they'll occur is not up to me.”
“The gods will guide you, my Lord,” Saif said.
For a second Rob almost snapped at him for bringing up the gods, but kept his temper in control. They'd already sparred over the subject and Rob didn't want to revisit it.
He checked to make sure he had everything; armor, helmet, slingpack, pouches and his big mace hanging awkwardly from his belt. “I think I'm set.”
“Oh, Fumi found these, too. Take them.” The Sage handed him four potions, two Health and two Mana.
“Prefect, I'm almost out,” Rob said, slipping them into his potion pouch.
Although they'd worked out the entire Resurrection Chamber nonsense, Rob still had a feeling he couldn't fully trust the Sage, yet. It would take some time. But until he knew Saif was on his side, and didn't hide information from him, Rob would be diplomatic. “Thanks,” he said.
As they left the cabin Rob said, “Oh, just a word of warning, Trenton asked about his final payment. I told him to talk to you about it.”
Saif nodded. “It will be okay, my Lord. I have an idea how to handle that if you don't return before then.”
“Like what?” Rob felt the familiar pressure of responsibility return. As if the headaches of the real world weren't enough, like mortgages and car payments, taking care of an entire kingdom eclipsed them all by a long shot.
“We have the advantage, actually. Once the Foundation Stone is in place, the town will need a lot of building work to be done. The prospect of such work, and the promise of many more future payments, should placate any concerns of his.”
“He seems like a cool guy. I don't want to lose him. If I happen to get any money I'll bring it right back.”
“Whatever you think is best. You are the king.”
Rob couldn't tell if the Sage was teasing him, but took the comment in stride. He may be a dirt poor king, but he still was king.
They stopped at the muddy road at the southern edge of the village. From here, Rob could see people milling about the stone circle. Some spotted him and moved in his direction.
Saif said, “Best you should go now, my Lord. They only want to regale you with their problems which need to wait. You have bigger concerns to attend to.”
“You'll take care of things here?” Rob knew it was a stupid question, but felt like he should ask. He had come close to attacking Saif earlier, so mending bridges were in order.
“Of course, sire. Myself and the others will be fine.”
“If anything happens, like the pech show up or a dragon, or something, get everyone into the castle. Might not be a hundred percent finished but it's better than nothing.”
“Yes, my Lord, I will.” Saif looked at the small crowd moving in their direction. “Please go now, while you still can.”
Rob nodded and quickly moved down the road until he rounded a bend and the village vanished behind the trees. He sighed. Here he went again, out into the great unknown to do a bunch of crazy stuff he was uncertain of. Just another day of being a king.
Part of him felt a little guilty leaving. It was obvious some of his subjects wanted to speak to him, whether about the current state of the kingdom, or their own problems. But he didn't have time for them. It all would result in the same thing: more quests. And he was up to his eyeballs with them. There was only so much he could handle at one time. As he cleared his current slate, he'd make a point of adding more from his people. They'd expect nothing less of him.
Once he was a far enough distance, he took out the sliver. It still pointed in a roughly southeasterly direction. He wanted to avoid traipsing through the underbrush for as long as possible so he stuck to the road. As he walked, mace thumping at his hip, buckler on his arm, he looked to the Western Mountains. A chill ran up his spine. The Rock-Cliff dragon still gave him nightmares. He was glad that entire business was over with. But a small part of him felt a sense of pride. He'd done it. He'd saved everyone and suffered a lot of pain in doing so. That meant something.
As he marched through the mud, avoiding puddles, he shook his head. He couldn't get too prideful. This place had a pension for knocking him back down to earth. Yet, he allowed himself a small pat on the back. Saving his people had been the single greatest challenge he'd faced since arriving, and he'd survived it all. Whatever happened to him
next, he'd always have that.
Well, that and his very own castle.
He stopped to recheck the direction when he realized he was a short distance away from the Breddin homestead.
The homestead I burned down, he thought, sullenly. He wanted to take a look again, at the spot of his first great battle and continued down the road.
He was shocked to hear hammering and voices. Alarmed, he ran along the road until he reached the short muddy path that led to the property.
