Lands of Daranor: Book 01 - DreamQuest

by Bill T Pottle

  When it was Dalin’s turn with the reporter, he quickly reversed the letters in his name and received his supplies. He had wanted to escape, and he had a perfect chance, since he had new supplies and could follow the others and find a way out. However, soon the situation he was placed in began to lure him. He was in a position of command among Marhyn’s troops, and he could use this to gain a valuable advantage. He might even find out where Tarthur and Derlin were and help them.

  As he reflected on the ease of which he had been promoted, Dalin thought about the move by Marhyn, and concluded that it was a smart one. She had given a test to all new recruits, and helped out some of the brighter ones. In this way she appeared generous and giving in the eyes of her troops, and Dalin knew this was vital. The biggest problem with mercenaries was lack of a will to fight, lack of a cause. By spending just a little money, she was taking a step to promote loyalty. It made Dalin once again remind himself not to underestimate Marhyn’s forces, and to begin to fear not only her evil, but also her intelligence.

  So Dalin had taken the commission, and become Captain Nilad. He had not had time to search for the boys, but he had aided their escape. By pure chance, Dalin had been commanding his men when he had received word that there was a attempted prisoner escape in the third quadrant of the new area, and that he was to send two of his men for aid and bring the rest to help immediately. By taking the proper route to the third quadrant, Dalin could attack the escapees’ exposed back. So Dalin had promptly brought his men into the seventh quadrant, and given orders to his two others to relay the word. So instead of coming upon his friends unexpectedly with a group of men, in a few minutes nearly two hundred men and goblins were making sure no one escaped from the seventh quadrant, which happened to be empty anyway. The commanders were absolutely furious, but fortunately for Dalin the messenger had died in the fight so he simply told them that he had received the wrong information. The whole affair was a commotion, since the army was not properly organized yet and the escape was so unexpected, along with the fact that many had died in the collapsing of the wall. Not wanting to lose the goodwill of her soldiers that she had paid to gain, Marhyn contented herself with torturing just a few of those who were proved to be truly responsible.

  But now, Dalin needed to escape. He had collected a substantial amount of information, and he truly believed he could not safely collect more without being captured. He also needed to get back to his father if his information about the mermen and Queen Marhyn was to be useful. So he had made the decision to leave, and now he got ready to implement his plan.

  Gathering all of his possessions and stepping out of his door, Dalin roughly commanded some of his soldiers to lower a lifeboat so he could proceed to go on land and to Marhyn’s castle for a meeting for the captains of the army. He had a soldier named Biorf and another named Jog accompany him for the fifteen or twenty meters to shore, and then Biorf rudely joked to his remaining compatriot about going into the woods and taking a piss, while Jog stayed with the boat. So Biorf and Dalin walked together until they came to the edge of a grove of trees, where they said their goodbyes, Dalin giving what remained of his supplies to the other.

  Their plan was simple, both went alone into the woods, and Dalin would then flee. Biorf, returning with his goods, would tell how Captain Nilad had given him one insult to many, and tempers had flared. Biorf had thrown a rock and killed Captain Nilad, thus deserving to take over his post. No one would know the truth. No one would care. Mercenaries couldn’t afford to make friends, soon they were dead or gone. It was a sad way of life, but it fit for the restless soul who thrived on adventure and didn’t mind killing others. They both got something out of the deal. Biorf got to become Captain Biorf rather easily, and he got to help out Captain Nilad, for he understood that sometimes people miss their wife and children and wish to give up the military way of life. And Dalin got his way out.

  Walking alone that night, Dalin wished there were more trees along his path to King Garkin’s castle. In the trees he was raised, and they made him feel comfortable and secure. No one could find him if he wished to remain hidden. But trees were not covering most of his path, and as Dalin snuck by Marhyn’s impregnable fortress, he wished the moon were not so bright and his shadow not so long.

  Dalin heard a snap of a twig behind him, and he turned just in time to see the knuckles of a fist come slamming into his face. That was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

  * * *

  Dousing the fire in hopes that the dragon had not seen them yet (it was in vain, for they didn’t know that dragons have very sharp eyesight) Derlin, Tarthur and Yonathan began to ready themselves for some kind of fight. Tarthur remembered babbling incoherently, “What are we doing?! This is a dragon! We can’t fight a dragon! It will tear us apart without stirring,” and then thinking, “Wait, he is attacking us. We don’t have any choice.” It was unfair, and it made Tarthur recall with shame some times when he had picked on smaller boys. It really was wrong for the strong to terrorize the weak, and Tarthur made a promise never to do it again. He laughed bitterly as he remembered their situation and the nearly inevitable fact that he never would have a chance to implement his promise. “Well, at least I made it,” he thought in case the Creator was listening.

  “We should all run in different directions,” Derlin suggested, “that way he will only be able to get one of us, and the others can meet up later.”

  Yonathan held up his hand to avoid further contemplation on the plan. “He would catch us all. He can fly, remember? No, our only hope is those magic swords. Do whatever you can to use them, for if they cannot save us, I will try to attack, but I am afraid he would be more in danger of forgetting how to fly and landing on a pointy mountain than of sustaining a wound of any size from me.”

  While they might have wanted to say more, caution dictated that they be quiet and hide behind some rocks, which served as meager and inadequate protection indeed. As they could think of nothing else to do, they hoped the crimson beast would continue on its way without noticing them.

  It did not work. Tarthur had always heard of tales of these beasts, and knew they were real and extremely rare. Not all humans believed this, however. In fact, the blacksmith whom Tarthur had been apprenticed to had said that elves and dragons were merely creatures of legend. One day he had even beaten Tarthur, who had insisted that they were real. Tarthur had hoped a dragon would swoop down on Krendon and devour the blacksmith at that very moment, but none had. Now he inwardly cursed himself for ever wishing to see one. He also regretted that he would never get to talk to the skeptical and practical blacksmith, now that he had met a dragon and had an elf for a friend. It is amazing, he thought, what people could find once they went beyond their narrow mindedness and looked for wonder in their world. This dragon, who Tarthur now saw to be quite huge, was covered with red scales thicker than the king’s own armor, and had a long skinny neck which ended in a flat head, much like that of a crocodile, only with much sharper teeth. Its belly was enormous, and it had two wings protruding from its sides, the span of which seemed to be near fifty meters. Still, he looked almost transparent, as if he was only an apparition, and not real. As it landed near the rocks, Tarthur could be sure of one thing. The paralyzing fear was real.

  Before the dragon had time to attack, Derlin burst from his cover and raced toward the beast. Derlin hastily drew the Light Sword and as the dragon was turning to look at him, brought it down in a sweeping arc on its narrow neck. Tarthur expected the sword to bounce harmlessly off the thick plating, but instead it cut right through his neck, never even encountering enough resistance to break the arc. The next thing surprised Tarthur more, however. The dragon’s head did not fall off, but he turned to face them as if nothing at all had happened. Tarthur valiantly tried to call the Rune Sword to his aid, but alas, it just stood there, dull and very ordinary, with not even a hint of the light that once burned so deeply within it.

  Then the dragon spoke in a raspy
voice that alone would have filled Tarthur with terror, without even hearing the words. “Whoa, sorry there, I guess I gave you a little scare. I am just getting used to this thing you know. Can’t expect me to get it right on the very first time. I forgot you wouldn’t recognize me.”

  The last words confused Tarthur and Derlin immensely, and they looked at each other just to make sure they had heard him right. Now they had seen quite a few people in their lives, and if one of them cut his hair and grew a beard or was wearing a disguise, they could see how they might fail to recognize him. But Tarthur was pretty sure he hadn’t known any dragons, and if he had, he was certain he would be able to recognize one in a crowded marketplace. Lithar must have hit him on the head a lot harder than he thought if he was forgetting things like knowing dragons. Tarthur turned to ask the dragon for more details. If his friend was leaving things like this out, he needed to have a serious talk with Derlin about it later. When he looked, however, the dragon was gone, and in his place was Yan.

  Tarthur was speechless. He just stood there, awed and confused. For a moment, he even thought his brain was failing to work. Morty’s tutor told him that if you don’t use your brain, it would become weaker and eventually stop.

  “Wait a minute here,” Tarthur said calmly, and completely confused. “I think I just saw a dragon turn into Yan. Will someone tell me what really happened?”

  “Yan,” Derlin exclaimed excitedly, “we all thought you were dead!”

  “Certainly,” Yan said, replying to Tarthur’s question and coming to stand by the confused heroes, of which Yonathan was the most baffled, having never seen this man in his life. “But it’s getting dark, and we better sit down.”

  So they all went to sit around the fire, Yonathan pulling up his own log so he would not have to sit by this dragon who wore the guise of humans, and Yan began his narrative.

  “First of all,” he started calmly, “I must apologize for leaving you so abruptly, after we had escaped the Dark Queen. Well, let me start at the beginning. I am very old, I knew Zelin when he was a much younger man.”

  “Wow!” Tarthur cried out impatiently. “You knew Zelin?”

  “Shh,” Derlin reprimanded him harshly with a swift poke of his elbow in Tarthur’s gut. “Of course he did. Now don’t interrupt!”

  “A very long time ago,” Yan continued, unmindful of the interruption, “There was a great war upon the lands of this continent. Zelin and I were strong back then, but the forces of the Dark One and his sister were stronger. By luck, we managed to win that war, but I was captured by Marhyn and my mind was destroyed. My friends all searched for me, but she blocked any chance I had to send out my mind and communicate, none could find me, and all assumed I was dead. So I have been in her prison ever since.” Yan spoke with a heavy sadness.

  At this pause in the story, another question came to Tarthur, who this time politely raised his hand in the normal manner of asking to be recognized. Yan nodded his frail head in his direction, and Tarthur asked quietly, “How long ago was the war?”

  Yan’s face showed no emotion. “Nearly three hundred years ago. Yes, I have rotted in her prison for nearly three hundred years, not even knowing who I am.” “But then you came along, and freed me. I am sorry you found me in such a state of incoherence, but you must also understand the pain I feel. I was an intelligent man before. I was wise beyond my years; people always sought me out for advice in the workings of the world, even though I was younger than they. There were those who were very dear to me…” At this point he broke off. Tarthur couldn’t imagine the feeling of waking up one day and knowing everyone you cared about was gone.

  Yan took a deep breath and regained his composure. “When you appeared, I started to regain parts of my consciousness, but slowly. Very slowly. When we found the Rune Sword, it started to come back much more quickly. The Rune Sword used to be my blade. Right before I was captured, I made a terrible choice.” Yan paused again, unwilling or unable to continue. Even Tarthur knew not to press for further details.

  “What’s done is done,” he said. “Suffice it to say that the eagles brought back the sword because I asked them to. I knew that if Marhyn did something to my mind, the blade would help me to remember who I was.”

  Tarthur unbuckled the Rune Sword from his waist and bowed as he held it out for Yan to take. Yan shook his head. “Wearing that at my side would only remind me of things that I would rather forget. You keep it, for now at least.”

  That being settled, Yan continued his narrative.

  The second night after we escaped, I felt a call, coming from the east, for a special meeting was being held. I was not invited, but I would have been, had they known I was alive. Who called this meeting? Have you ever heard of the Council of Gurus?”

  Both boys shook their heads no, but Yonathan spoke up. “I have heard Uris mention such a thing before. Is it where the wise of the world hold discussion near the Eternal Vale?”

  Yan nodded. “You are much closer to the truth than most people. Some people are even ignorant to our existence. The Eternal Vale is a place of tremendous power. It is even the very residence of the Creator, though he freely goes where he chooses. The council is a group of the wisest…no, not the wisest,” he said with an angry face, then amended, “the people with the greatest knowledge of magic, who meet to decide how to use our power to benefit humanity. Or at least that is what we profess, if in words only.”

  Yan’s body seemed to sag, and he uttered a sigh of frustration. “I am sorry. I am just angry, and very frustrated. You see, I went there, and there was a great meeting. There were even a few people there who knew you, Tarthur.” Tarthur’s eyebrows revealed his skepticism, but then he shrugged his shoulders; if Yan could turn into a dragon, anything was possible. Still, who would he know?

  Seeing his disbelief, Yan smiled. “I am sure you have not forgotten your friends Zelin and Tustor? They both spoke quite highly of you. In fact, you are a great part of the reason that this meeting was even called. You see, Tarthur, you have put us into a immense quandary. You have an item of great power, the Water Orb spell, but you can’t use it and don’t know how you got it. Some of the brightest minds in Daranor have spent endless hours pondering over what to do with you. It has caused quite a stir in the council.”

  Tarthur nodded, understanding most of what Yan said. “Did Tustor really swim all the way to the other side of the world?”

  Yan chuckled—he still had a lot to explain about the council and its methods. “No, of course not. In fact, his body wasn’t even there. We just communicated by sending the collective mind of our council out to him. I was not able to make it all the way there physically either, but as I was still weak I needed to be as close as possible. I was worried that if I would have taken the time to wake you, I wouldn’t have made it far enough in time. Zelin called the meeting, and he is also not as strong as he once was. He had to journey until he was very close. Once the meeting was called, we could unite our strength and call out for Tustor. It is a rather complicated process, and not one to go into detail with here. Perhaps some other time.” Tarthur was about to ask Yan to explain, you did not just tell Tarthur something about removing your mind from your body and then tell him to wait to learn the rest. He would probably try it and hurt himself in the meantime. Before he could ask, however, Derlin began to talk.

  With an anxious mixture of excitement over the hordes of wizards that he imagined would be aiding them and of apprehension for his friend, Derlin asked the question. “So what did they decide?”

  Yan looked down, then took a deep breath. “There were many signs that the Death Lord and Marhyn are about to attack. Tustor, Zelin, and I suggested joining with King Garkin and using our might to defeat him before he can gain enough power to put up a fight. But there are others, many of whom have since passed into the world of spirits, who would be content to isolate themselves and let the world take care of itself. They are selfish, and they are idiots!” Yan’s voice rose until he was al
most shouting then sank into a low, pain-filled state, his frail body trembling with every word. “They have ruined our chances, and now there will be war. Many people will die. Young men with bright futures ahead of them will be forced to join with the king to defend ourselves and many will be killed by horrors out of their darkest dreams. I have seen his army before! Women and screaming children they will trample without a thought. They will lay the land bare, and destroy all life wherever they tread. I have seen it happen.”

  “This is not the first time that there has been a resolution to go and destroy Darhyn while he sleeps. Some tried it as soon as he was defeated, and every fifty years or so someone suggests we go to his palace and destroy him while he slumbers. None of the other expeditions have been successful, and so the gurus tire of the plan. But this time is different, because now we have the spell that controls the Orb. We could steal the Orb this time, and this time there are signs that he is about to awaken. This time it’s serious, but we were unable to persuade the others to come back and help us defeat him.”

  “He is strong, but we are not without hope. Reluctantly, the council has agreed to give some small help to those who would stay and try to prevent this. We have given Zelin strength in his old body, and he will now be able to use difficult spells without tiring as much. The same they have done for Tustor. And for me, I am now a shapeshifter. I can transform into any shape I wish.” Yan finished this off by becoming like a silver liquid, and emerging as a new figure.