The Fabled Beast of Elddon

by David Barber

  The force of the exploding air sack threw Sir Egan. He landed on his back, losing his sword as he slid down along the beast’s side. At the last moment he was able to grab hold of one of the struts that anchored the wing to the beast’s body. He wrapped his arm around it, scrabbling with his other hand to catch hold of one of the wires.

  Ander got to his knees, clinging to a length of wire. He sheathed his sword and, moving cautiously, slid himself forward to within a few feet of the struggling knight.

  “Take my hand,” he roared, his voice little more than a whisper over the howling wind. “Don’t be a fool!”

  “I’d sooner cut off my own fingers,” Sir Egan snarled, “than accept anything from you, Northman.”

  Ander reached for him, but Sir Egan refused to take his outstretched hand. The knight tried to pull himself up, using the strut to lift his body. The strut cracked, and then with a tortured sound, broke free. Sir Egan let out a cry of fury as he was torn from the monster’s back, disappearing into space. The broken wing continued to beat for a few seconds, snapping wires and dislocating lengths of wood, then it stilled altogether. The beast listed hard to one side and began losing altitude.

  Ander crawled along the beast to the opening in its side, then heaved himself in, twisting his ankle painfully as he landed. He shook himself, feeling battered and bruised. He tested the ankle and was satisfied that nothing was broken. Then he started forward to where Tristan was frantically pulling on levers and turning wheels, all to no avail.

  “That fool of a knight managed to cripple this thing,” Ander growled, appearing beside his friend.

  “I’m well aware,” Tristan said, his face tight with strain, his skin pale as milk. “It’s falling and there’s nothing I can do.”

  “The lake!” Ander shouted. “See if you can’t maneuver this cursed monstrosity over the lake.”

  “I’ll try,” Tristan said, “But no promises.”

  Tristan leaned on the handle, gripping it with both hands and the beast rolled over on its side, angling toward the ground. Through the eye holes, Ander could see trees and grass below them, then the castle looming large and growing nearer. The shredded air bag, pierced by Sir Egan’s sword, had fallen into the fire, and the flames, previously contained, began climbing up along the beast’s side. Dark smoke poured out through the hole in the beast’s side. The monster groaned and Ander could hear the snapping wires and straining wood. The thing was coming apart and would not hold for much longer. They sailed past the castle keep, trailing fire and smoke, barely missing the top of the curtain wall. Then they were beyond the hill and the surface of the lake rushed up to meet them.

  The beast slammed into the water with a shuddering impact. Ander was thrown against a wooden crossbar that cracked beneath him. He fell back, dazed. Water rushed in through the eye holes and through widening tears in the beast’s hide, flooding the interior of the monster as it was sucked down into the lake. Ander wrenched the hauberk over his head, discarding it, then splashed forward to where Tristan lay motionless. As the water rose up over Ander’s head, he reached out, grabbing hold of Tristan’s tunic and yanking him back. He wrapped one massive arm around the youth’s neck and shoulder and fought his way to the hatch. He pushed through it, then swam for all he was worth, still gripping Tristan tightly to him.

  The beast let out a final tortured moan as the dark mass sank, disappearing from view altogether. Ander broke the surface of the lake, sucking in great lungfuls of air. The lake was shrouded in morning mist and there was a haze of smoke drifting off the water. The sun had risen above the horizon and the golden light of morning spread across the valley floor. Ander rolled onto his back, holding Tristan’s head as he struck out for the shore. When he at last felt mud beneath his boots, he turned, lifting Tristan and half-carried, half-dragged him from the lake. There Ander fell and lay like a stunned ox, breathing heavily and gazing up at the sky.

  Tristan made a choking sound and rolled onto his side, vomiting water and coughing ferociously. Ander patted him on the back but was otherwise too tired to move. It had been a miserable couple of days and one of the longest nights he could remember. Unfortunately, they were not out of the soup just yet. There would be soldiers coming and Ander was not at all certain what kind of mood they’d be in. He rolled over, shaking himself like a wet dog and climbed tiredly to his feet. He took Tristan by the arm and helped him stand.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  “I think so,” Tristan said, spitting and wiping water from his eyes. “What happened to the beast?”

  “It sank and nearly took us with it.”

  “Good riddance,” Tristan said, eyeing the water with distaste.

  They started up the slope, away from the edge of the lake. They had only gone a short distance when they were met by a noisy delegation of villagers, all of whom appeared to be talking and shouting at once. Ander tensed, thinking they were about to be attacked, but realized that the men and women coming to meet them were not hurling insults but congratulations. They were cheering and there were smiles on their faces. All at once, Ander found himself surrounded, with people slapping him on the back and reaching out to shake his hand.

  “Well done, my boy, well done!” said a blue-eyed merchant with an enormous mustache. “You’ve slain the fabled beast of Elddon. I never thought I would see this day.”

  “We have a champion among men in our midst,” a plump woman with rosy cheeks planted a kiss on his cheek.

  Ander reeled, not certain which way to turn or whom he should address, but confused as he was, he had the seed of an idea growing in his mind. This was an opportunity that would not come again and he meant to exploit it.

  “Good people!” Ander shouted, raising his arms and gesturing for quiet. “I thank you for your praise, but it was not I who slew the beast of Elddon. I am only the lesser companion to the real hero of this tale.”

  At that moment, Baron Leofrick himself appeared at the top of the rise, mounted on a beautiful white horse. With him came half a dozen of his household guard and a handful of very harried-looking servants who had been forced to run down the hill to keep up. The baron was clad in crisp white linen, a pale green doublet, and a heavy wine-colored cloak, trimmed in gold. At his waist he wore a long sword with a massive gem in the pommel. He looked down on the proceedings with a mixture of astonishment and curiosity.

  “I saw with mine own eyes,” a farmer insisted, waving his arms as he spoke. “I saw the beast plunge into the water, saw its back break upon the waves, as did many of us. If not you, then who--”

  “It was this man here,” Ander said, turning and presenting Tristan with an outstretched hand. “It was Tristan an Elddon who grappled with the beast, and who was finally able to bring it down. I was but a spectator to the deed, clinging to the monster’s back with no thought but for myself.”

  “What?” Tristan began. “I did not--”

  “You slew the fabled beast of Elddon,” Ander announced, raising his voice so that everyone near him could hear. “Modesty is the defining trait of any such hero. But I tell you that Tristan, and he alone, is responsible for the monster’s destruction. He is the savior of your village and deserves all of your thanks and praise.”

  Now the crowd moved past Ander, surrounding Tristan as they continued their celebration, regaling the youth with compliments and accolades for his heroic deed. The sound of hoof beats on the road drew Ander’s attention and he turned to see a sorrel mare, lathered in sweat and blowing foam, as it came to a halt a stone’s throw away from where they all stood. The elluen, blood stained and covered in dust, his long, white gold hair tangled and wild, leapt from the saddle, looking frantically about. When he saw Ander, he was momentarily taken aback and stood transfixed, gazing from Ander to Tristan and back again.

  “It cannot be,” Loth said, wonder written large across his face. “It was you I saw riding the beast down from the mountain!” He marched forward to confront the Northman.

  “A
ye,” Ander said. “Tristan and I found the beast at last, and what a ride it gave us. But there is no time to tell the story in full just yet. We have other business to attend to.”

  Ander continued on to the top of the rise, until he was standing before Baron Leofrick. The baron had regained some of his former composure and sat glaring at Tristan as if he were a stray dog that had somehow wandered into his castle.

  “I do not believe this green boy could have defeated the beast,” the baron said, not bothering to meet Ander’s gaze. “You might be able to convince these foolish peasants, but I do not believe it for an instant.”

  “He has done more than that,” Ander said, watching the faces of the soldiers. “He has also defeated your greatest knight, and he and Ryia have freed a number of captives, held by the kerram in the ruined city of Ibridion.”

  “What? What did you say?” Now the baron was looking at him and his eyes were anxious and full of fear.

  “Sir Egan Stroud was a traitor,” Loth said, adding his voice to the conversation. “He used the beast to extort gold from you and from the people of Elddon, and gave it to the kerram.”

  “What madness is this?” Baron Leofrick said, growing angry. “How dare you--”

  “Sir Egan meant to depose you,” Ander said, “and to start a war with Linheath. If he had his way, you would be dead, and Elddon would have been his. Tristan and Ryia stopped him. If not for their interference, you would have lost everything.”

  The baron chewed his lower lip, gazing out across the lake. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Even now,” Loth said, “Ryia is leading a company of former slaves down from the mountain, men and women taken by Sir Egan and delivered to the kerram. They were mining for glow rock and using it to make weapons for his war against Linheath.”

  “All of those people will attest to Sir Egan’s treachery,” Ander said.

  “And your own soldiers are among them, the men whom Sir Egan sent to fight the beast when first it appeared. He enslaved them as well and forced them to work in the mines.”

  The baron looked to his soldiers. The men surrounding him were discomfited by this news, their faces betraying astonishment and anger. Ander could see the confusion and hurt in their eyes. That one of their own, a man whom they had served and trusted, should treat any of them in such a way; it was unthinkable.

  “Imagine the outcry when the people of Elddon discover what a scoundrel your precious knight was,” Loth said, not bothering to hide his contempt.

  “And what will they say,” Ander added, “when they learn that Sir Egan was stealing from them, and from you, without ever raising the slightest suspicion? How will the people of Elddon feel toward their lord when they realize how easily he is manipulated?”

  The baron frowned. He sat still as an oak tree for some time, pondering the scene below, watching his people as they continued to talk animatedly with Tristan.

  “You have an opportunity, my lord,” Loth said, “to turn these events in your favor. When the tale of the fabled beast of Elddon is told, what story will it be?”

  “You have a suggestion?” Baron Leofrick said.

  “The way I see it,” Ander said, “your best recourse is to recognize Tristan for the hero he is. You’re minus one knight. Who better than a boy from the village to take his place?”

  “Impossible.”

  “You are the Baron of Elddon. Nothing is impossible. Make Tristan a knight and give him Sir Egan’s lands. That doesn’t seem too much to ask for saving your country and your people. Tristan will make a better knight than Sir Egan ever was and he will serve you well, especially if you allow him to marry the woman he loves.”

  “People love weddings,” Loth said. “They will forget all else. And you, my lord, will have the privilege and honor of giving away the bride.”

  Chapter 10

  “So much for the fabled beast of Elddon,” Loth said as they left the village behind.

  “Not much of a story, is it?” Ander said. “In the end, it was all a farce, and there was no beast at all.”

  “Ah, but there was,” Loth said. “The greatest beast there is--the greed in a person’s heart, the lust for power, and the desire to dominate others. That was the beast that plagued Elddon.”

  “I suppose.” Ander glanced back at the castle on the hill. Baron Leofrick had seen fit to provide them with new clothes and horses. Their packs were full and Ander had a new hauberk of chain mail. Hanging from his saddle was a fine shield, heavy oak, banded in iron, and painted with a bear’s clawed footprint.

  “Will you miss him?” Loth asked.

  “Tristan?” Ander shrugged. “I suppose. He’s a good lad but requires some looking after. Truth be told, he’s not much of a fighter either. Mostly he told stories and could sing a song every now and again. He’s a good singer.”

  “But you were willing to come here, to help him find Ryia so he could marry her. You risked your life for both of them.”

  “Aye,” Ander said, “I owed him, for saving my life. He’s no great warrior, it’s true, but he has the heart of a lion. He’ll make a proper knight once he gets used to it. And he belongs here with his people, not wandering about the world with brigands like me.”

  “Why not take the credit yourself?” Loth asked. “You could have been rich, with lands and titles of your own. Isn’t that what all men want?”

  “Some men. Not I. And I’m not much for staying in one place. I need to breathe the air, if you know what I mean. But what about you? You fought and bled as much as I. You could have asked Elddon for more than just a horse and new breeches.”

  “I don’t belong here anymore than you,” Loth said. “Less so. Besides, I have a quest of my own to fulfill. I have to find the Rindaya.”

  “What exactly is a Rindaya?” Ander asked.

  “The Rindaya is a person, one who spends their life searching for wisdom and enlightenment. They only come along once in a generation. It is a rare honor.”

  “If you say so.” Ander said. “And how long have you been looking for this Rindaya?”

  “Forty years.”

  “Forty years! Are you mad? That’s an entire lifetime! Why on Kirion’s green earth would you spend forty years looking for a single person?”

  “She’s my mother,” Loth shrugged and gave him a weak smile.

  “Is she indeed?”

  “Yes. Besides, my lifetime is much longer than yours. The elluen do not consider anyone under the age of fifty to have yet reached maturity.”

  “How old are you, then?” Ander asked.

  “It is impolite to ask,” Loth said, “but if you must know I am eighty-seven.”

  “Eighty-seven? Onar and Iden,” Ander swore, “I’m traveling with an old man. No wonder your hair is all white.”

  “I am barely out of my youth,” Loth said indignantly, “and my hair is the color of white gold. It is fine and luxurious, like all my race.”

  “Hah!” Ander laughed. “And vain to boot.” The two rode on in silence for a time, climbing up out of the valley into the hills above Elddon. When they reached the top of the first peak, they paused, turning their horses to take in the view. Neither spoke, and soon they turned away and rode on.

  In the afternoon they came to a fork, with one road angling toward the east and another turning south before disappearing into a forest. Here, they paused once more.

  “That road leads south to Angolis,” Loth said. “That one to Falcott, and from there to the borders of the Rowanin. Which way are you bound?”

  “I hadn’t thought,” Ander said, looking from one to the other.

  “You’re welcome to travel with me for a time,” Loth said. “I cannot promise any adventures so grand as the one we’ve just been through, but one never knows.”

  “Where is it you’re going, then?” Ander asked.

  “I thought I might visit Asiron, and then the Rowanin. I’ve heard tell that the Rindaya was living among the tra-elluen for a while, though whether she re
mains there or not is anyone’s guess.”

  “You’re going to see the tra-elluen?” Ander said. “Wonderful. The tra-elluen talk to trees and worship the ground they stand on. They are all mad, or so I have heard.”

  “I have heard the same of men,” Loth countered, “but isn’t it more true that we are all mad, elluen and men alike? I think it is more a matter of degree.”

  “Hah!” Ander laughed, remembering all that he had endured at the hands of Baron Leofrick and Sir Egan, and of the choices he had made that brought him to Elddon in the first place.

  “I cannot argue with that.” Ander dug his heels into the horse’s flank. “Come along then, my mad friend. I want to find an inn before the sun sets, and we’ll see if you elluen can drink as well as you talk and fight.”

  “You may be sorry you asked,” Loth said.

  “I may at that,” Ander grinned. “But I’m willing to risk it.”