His nerve bolstered by the revelation, Saxthor struggled to stand up. He stumbled forward then tripped. Looking down through twilight’s eerie hue, he saw bones and more of the familiar plates littering the floor. There was armor among the skeletons, he acknowledged to himself, afraid to say it aloud. Warriors far greater than him had fallen prey to the cave’s monster. A peculiar skull captured the last of the daylight and reflected back a pale ivory tone. The skull appeared to stare up at him.
I’m going to throw up, he thought, and turned to the side, but he caught himself. A Calimon wouldn’t allow this; my parents didn’t raise a coward. I may be only an unimportant extra, but I’m a Calimon.
The thought radiated through him. It shot up his spine like a rod, warmed him, and dispelled his nausea.
I can’t go back, he resolved. It’ll do no good to prolong the ordeal, better to get it over with. I’ll not allow myself to give into this hopelessness. I mustn’t allow fear to beat me. No, I must face this alone. Still, I’ll have to hurry before I lose my nerve. Then he noticed a warm tingling in the hand holding Sorblade.
The sword is with me in this, he thought.
With stronger conviction and steadier nerves, Saxthor crept deeper into the darkening warren where all light was gone except for Sorblade’s glowing runes. He realized the aura would draw attention to him. Looking down to sheathe Sorblade, he noted the light reflected from crystals lining the stonewalls. The color wasn’t golden, as if coming from Sorblade, but flame colored orange and blue.
As the sword slipped into the sheath, Saxthor rounded a curve in the tunnel and peered into a massive cavern. The walls were crystallized minerals amid pillars of stalagmites and stalactites. The minerals amplified the low soft radiance of a flame that illuminated the cave from its center.
When his eyes adjusted to the light, Saxthor looked straight into an enormous pair of brilliant blue eyes. At the moment they first spotted each other, the mammoth dragon, Yamma-Mirra Heedra, sprang up from his coiled resting position atop a mound of large crystals and geodes covering most of the cave’s floor. Both boy and dragon froze. Then, amid the cacophonous clinking of the crystals, the dragon stood up, his eyes fixed on Saxthor. Saxthor clapped his hands over his ears denying both the noise and the reality of what he faced.
From head to tail, the dragon was at least the length of twenty men lying foot to head. Alert and glaring, Yamma-Mirra Heedra flicked his tongue tasting the air to identify the hapless intruder. Shocked, Saxthor realized the bronze plate in his hand was a scale shed from the beast like a feather from a bird. He dropped the shield.
“Cripes!” Saxthor said through chattering teeth.
The dragon snarled a warning and exposed his colossal teeth gleaming like ivory daggers from bloodstained hilts. Yamma-Mirra Heedra hissed recognition. The scaled beast stepped forward; his great bulk shifted the pile of crystals beneath him. Saxthor understood the mountain’s rumbling and tremors.
On seeing dinner come to him, Yamma-Mirra Heedra flexed his wings as best he could in the cavern. He smacked his leathery lips. Without hesitation, the dragon lumbered toward his intended victim, his demeanor one of arrogant disdain for the doomed creature he was about to devour. His pace quickened.
I never knew real terror before, Saxthor thought. There’s no hope. I can’t defend myself against such a beast. Might as well get it over with and not drag out the suffering. I only hope the dragon will kill me quickly.
Fear paralyzed him. His legs wobbled just short of collapse, unresponsive to his mental screaming impulses to run. For all his mental panic, Saxthor crumpled down on his trembling knees and flashed hot and cold. A sudden burning sensation on his finger interrupted his terror. Through the calm of resignation, Saxthor remembered Bodrin, Memlatec, and his family.
What are you thinking? You fool! Run! That thing will eat Bodrin too. You’ll disappoint Memlatec. My family will be ashamed that I didn’t at least put up a fight. It’ll be no worse if I try to defend myself, I might get lucky and stab him.
Warm courage surged through him, lighting a deep, personal dignity and confidence he hadn’t known before. He resolved to do his best. The simple sword thrust that dispatched the hairy orc popped in his mind as he jumped behind a stalactite. He grabbed the massive scale he’d brought.
Yamma-Mirra Heedra snorted, and fire shot across the cave, blackening the stalagmite behind which Saxthor had been kneeling. Dinner done, the reptile leaned forward to snap up the charred morsel. He spat out a mouth full of crystals and ash, shocked and puzzled at the lack of roasted boy. The dragon reared back and with his talons, clawed at Saxthor to dislodge him from the rock shelter.
Saxthor jerked out Sorblade as he twisted and squirmed to dodge the claws. He spun around, narrowly avoided the grasping foot, and hacked off the dragon’s thumb claw.
What have I done? Now he’s mad, thought Saxthor.
He turned and stumbled over bones and scales, rushing back up the tunnel to warn Bodrin. He looked back.
Green dragon blood squirted, the acidic liquid sizzled, dissolving a piece of old armor. Yamma-Mirra Heedra drew back, screamed with rage, and shot flames in every direction. He leapt forward to the cavern entrance and started after Saxthor escaping back up the passageway.
I can’t outrun him, Saxthor thought.
He scanned the passageway walls for some place to hide. His only hope was to get out of the dragon’s way, but that would abandon Bodrin to the beast. Then the ground shook and he heard the monster’s claws scraping on the stone as he lumbered up the shaft close behind him. Saxthor hunkered down behind two scale-shields just in time and barely escaped flames that shot around him. The dragon’s great feet slammed down on the rock floor and shook the mountain to its core. The gravel at Saxthor’s feet hopped up and down from the titanic vibrations. For a split second, he was calm and noted dust rolled up around his feet, then his mind jerked back to reality.
Run! Run, you fool! Run!
Saxthor fumbled his way up the tunnel by rune light, when a dark thought occurred to him. If the dragon didn’t get his dinner, he’d come out of the cavern on an unwary Bodrin who’d have no chance to defend himself.
I can’t let that happen. It must be the dragon or me in here.
Alone, he had to face Yamma-Mirra Heedra. Bodrin was out there willing to protect him. He couldn’t sacrifice his friend to save himself. At first, the hopelessness of his situation calmed Saxthor and he resigned himself to his fate again. Then just as fast, his spirit shot back.
I’m not going without a fight, he thought.
In the seconds he had left, Saxthor frantically searched the walls for some defensible nook or cranny. His mind raced as he probed the wall in Sorblade’s dim light.
The dragon will be on me any second. I have to sheath Sorblade or the rune-glow will draw him to me.
Running as he struggled to get the sword’s tip in the scabbard, Saxthor tripped. Sorblade slid into the sheath and in the dark, Saxthor rolled back into an unexpected cleft in the tunnel wall.
Judging from the faster pace and harder pounding footsteps, Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s rage grew with each step up the tunnel. Snorting fire and screaming his challenge, the dragon’s huge bulk squeezed through the passageway and lumbered ever closer to Saxthor in the darkness. Caution abandoned, he raced up the passageway unrestrained.
Saxthor knew the dragon was in pain and furious that a mere boy with childish stupidity sliced off his claw.
Saxthor mashed himself back tighter in the tiny niche as each footstep closing in on him, pounded the rock floor. The thick, sulfurous smoke burned his nostrils. He covered his ears when the beast’s scale tips scraped on the tunnel walls, screeching like grating rocks. Flames shot past the fissure where he hunkered down behind the dragon scales that deflected the searing firestorm. Fearing to confront the monster’s piercing, searching eyes, he looked down.
This must be the end, he thought as the dragon was beside him in the tunnel. Hold your place; do
n’t move.
He fought his powerful urge to bolt. Cool sweat beaded up on him.
Hold!
The dragon’s scales scraped the rock edge of Saxthor’s hiding place. The stench of scorched scales swirled around him, mingled with the smoke of charred bone and granite. The beast was right beside him. His brain screamed.
No escape, he thought. Cripes, Bodrin is waiting at the cave’s opening. He must be standing, hearing the dragon coming, but that stubborn fool won’t abandon me. I can’t let the reptile eat him. There’s no escape for me anyway.
Saxthor’s reserves surged. There was barely enough room to draw his sword, but the dragon’s head was far up the tunnel by then and he couldn’t see the rune’s glow. Saxthor snatched out Sorblade, the symbols glowed brilliant gold.
I’ll have only one quick chance to strike. I have to stab between and under the scales.
At that moment, the dragon’s soft underbelly was passing Saxthor. He drew a deep breath, said goodbye to life, clutched Sorblade with both hands, and thrust it with all his might into Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s side as he lumbered past up the passageway. The sword slid into the entrails to the hilt. Saxthor jerked it out before blood could gush out at him, burning and dissolving his flesh, hoping the elfin magic could protect the blade.
The whole mountain shuddered as the dragon’s scream vibrated through his body and out through the mountain’s stone. Blood shot from the wound and splashed the tunnel walls just beyond where Saxthor was hiding. The animal’s blood sizzled, dissolving old bones in the dust. The great dragon slumped.
Saxthor and Yamma-Mirra Heedra were both stunned. The great dragon rose again, but only slightly. He shuffled backward. As his head passed Saxthor, there was more room in the tunnel and Saxthor braced himself for the dragon’s final attack. There was nowhere to hide, but Bodrin would be safe.
To Saxthor’s amazement, the great monster of the Highback Mountains paused and took a long look at Saxthor before he continued to back his way down the tunnel. The look on Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s face was one of peace and calm, no sign of rage though the wound was mortal. Saxthor couldn’t understand the change in the beast, and followed him as he backed into the grotto, where he curled up atop the jeweled horde. Dragon blood oozed from the fatal wound in his side, hissing and bubbling.
Saxthor realized Yamma-Mirra Heedra was dying. It was strange, but he felt sorry for the dragon. It dawned on him he’d destroyed a thing of unimaginable power, yet he pitied the creature as though he were a kindred spirit. Saxthor stepped inside the crystal-encrusted cavern and faced his defeated – but not dead - enemy head-on.
“I’m truly sorry, Great Dragon.”
Yamma-Mirra Heedra raised his head, his breathing shallow and labored.
“Take out the ring from your pocket, Prince Saxthor.”
Saxthor jerked upright at the deep-voiced command.
“How does a dragon I’ve never seen before know of me, much less an old, broken ring in my pocket?”
Shaken, Saxthor took out the ring that glowed sympathetically with the blue fire of Yamma-Mirra Heedra’s eyes. As the dragon’s strength ebbed, the brilliance of his eyes and his golden plating dimmed. Saxthor watched as the dragon dissolved into reddish-bronze fire, his eyes into blue flame.
Shocked, Saxthor dropped the hot ring.
The dragon’s flames drifted over the floor and disappeared into the ring as if smoke sucked into a draft. When the flames were gone, Saxthor stared at the ring glowing blood red before cooling into gold. The blue fire filled the once vacant cavity in the ring’s crown. As he watched, the ring’s metal reformed as entwined dragons, one on each side of the flame. The claws, horns, and ears held up a brilliant, deep blue topaz that radiated the blue fire of the dragon’s eyes. The dragon and ring were one.
“So that’s what I was supposed to find on Tixos,” Saxthor said. “Memlatec hoped I’d discover my inner strength. I could only gain real courage if I faced my worst fears.”
Hesitant at first, he slid the ring on his finger. Its warmth radiated through him.
“I have the strength and courage of Yamma-Mirra Heedra. No threat is as terrifying as the fear that grows in its anticipation. I’ll not question my own strength again.”
*
Bodrin saw a man come out of that cave where a boy had entered. Saxthor said nothing, but stood straight, shoulders back. There was no slumping or hint of self-doubt. A most peaceful look of confidence showed on his face. Bodrin had never seen such a calm self-assurance there before.
“Is it over, all that rumbling inside, and the smoke?” Bodrin asked.
Saxthor smiled but volunteered nothing.
“Are you going to tell me anything?”
“Yes, it’s over,” Saxthor said. He looked down, fondled the ring on his finger and smiled. Resignation and sadness infused his melancholy expression.
“That’s not the same ring?” Bodrin asked. He felt his eyes bulge as he stared at the gold dragons that held up the most magnificent, radiant gemstone he’d ever seen.
“We’ll camp in the tunnel tonight where we can have a fire and hot food,” Saxthor said. He gazed out over the valley.
“Is that all you’re going to tell me? You’ve changed from a caterpillar to a lion, and you’ll only say where we’re to camp? What happened in there?”
Saxthor turned to Bodrin.
“It’s a frightening yet wonderful thing to face yourself. That’s Memlatec’s gift.” He turned away and again looked out over the valley at something not seen that brought him peace.
Bodrin stared at Saxthor for a moment, and then realized that was all Saxthor had to say. In his frustration, Bodrin jerked up some equipment and started to move it into the tunnel. Saxthor followed with more.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be mysterious,” Saxthor said. “Were it not for you, I wouldn’t be here. Give me a bit of time to sort out all that’s occurred. I’ll share the story with you later.”
“Better than nothing, but don’t take too long figuring it out.” Bodrin picked up the last of the gear and handed it to Saxthor. “Whatever was in there, it must’ve been serious to have left you like this.”
“It’s good.”
Frustrated, Bodrin pinched his lips. He shook his head and went into the tunnel to start a fire.
“Let’s rest if you’re through spouting profound thoughts. We should get away from here as fast as possible in the morning.”
With that, they cooked, ate, and went to sleep - Saxthor soundly, Bodrin still grumbling.
11: Return to Tixumemnese
Habbernee and Loyalty of Friends
At dawn, Saxthor and Bodrin climbed back down the mountain, much of the time riding the sliding mantle of rock rubble. Bodrin groused, yet Saxthor seemed unaffected by his surroundings. Hoping it would make Saxthor divulge more of his story, Bodrin sulked, but Saxthor’s calm retrospection held.
“We need to hurry back to the old general,” Saxthor said. “I hope he’s still where we left him. Maybe Tournak has returned by now and is taking care of him.”
“Let’s go back by way of these other two mountains. We don’t want to run into something coming after us.”
Saxthor was compliant. They moved along a sort of footpath through the rock and scrub over the middle mountain’s face and then along that of the left most mountain.
“Stay close to the mountain-side. The inset and the brush on the outer edge should provide more cover in case someone’s hunting for us and searching the slopes from below.”
“What an exposed and vulnerable situation,” Bodrin said. “With this straight rock wall on the inside, and the steep slope on the outside, we’re boxed in. We can’t hide if we run into anyone or anything.
It’s midday and we’ve hiked for two days. Let’s stop up ahead to rest and eat before the path widens. The lone, scraggly tree provides the only shade up here.”
Saxthor studied the tree. “Those tough, twisted roots, and wind-strained bran
ches reflect a determination to survive despite unending hopeless conditions.”
Bodrin poked his studious friend. “The gnarled features remind me of old Memlatec.”
As they ate, a sudden racket boomed out. Saxthor spotted more debris tumbling down the hillside. On a ledge above, stood two piles of rock -- that moved.
“Did two stacks of rocks move?” Bodrin asked. “They moved, didn’t they?”
“I think so.”
“How can they be part of the mountain?”
Saxthor and Bodrin exchanged glances.
“Rock-dwarves!” Saxthor said.
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
Choppy, labored movements revealed more rock-dwarves mined the peak and dumped the rubble to spill down the slopes. How could we’ve missed all the movement until now, Saxthor mused.
“I thought dwarves weren’t supposed to be in daylight,” Bodrin said.
“The Dark Lord made these things. I guess it’s the real elemental dwarves who can’t be out in the sunlight. Maybe Dreaddrac’s king gave these some protective covering,” Saxthor said.
“What’ll we do?”
“Socockensmek told us stories about rock-dwarves,” Saxthor said. “I wish I’d paid more attention. He said they were among the Dark Lord’s earliest living creations. They’re supposed to be stiff and simple-minded. Their dull, slow but strong movements make them good for mining, stone cutting, smelting of ores, and forging weapons.”
“Now we know they exist.” Bodrin dodged a stone that careened down by him.
The boys observed the endless stream of dwarves as they shuffled forward to dump their baskets of rubble over the ledge. Rockslides caused plummeting chips to shower the area around them. They dashed to shelter against the path’s granite side. A dislodged boulder toppled down and smashed into the tree where they’d crouched a moment before. The old tree trembled. Groping roots, ripped up by the impact, flung dirt and rocks in all directions. The doomed tree clung to the mountainside with only two remaining roots.
The Dragon Ring (Book 1) Page 17
