Chronicles of Den'dra: A land on Fire

by Spencer Johnson

  “Well-spoken human.” Onwier plodded over.

  “One Encer knows nothing of what he speaks of.” Setur scowled.

  “This Encer was told by one Torroth that you dragons let Inadar go in the hopes that she would actually find the other Dragon Lord and then you could go find the both of them.” Encer crossed his arms as Setur and Iradaemi shifted uncomfortably and glanced between Encer and Onwier.

  “This was to only be between Rothlt, Setur, and myself. It seems I had a lapse in judgment by informing Torroth of this plan.” Iradaemi snorted at Encer in irritation.

  “Now that our lim is no longer… concealed. Why have you not gone in search of them yourself?” Setur shifted his position to place Onwier at an angle that did not require them to make eye contact.

  “I spoke with an elf who told me that you would have information leading to Inadar and the other Dragon Lord.”

  “I know nothing of this. Did this elf say how I am to know this?” The three dragons settled on their haunches in a circle and proceeded to talk without acknowledging the humans.

  “He was scant with details. He only said that you would speak of the place we will find them.”

  “Hsss. He could tell you no more?” Setur shook his head and bared his fangs.

  “No. His words were simple. The blue dov will have what you need to find the ones you seek.” Iradaemi smoldered.

  “So I have an idea. Seeing as the same elf said something about you also needing two human warriors for this venture, you probably shouldn’t slay me for my presumption. Since it will be something you say, why don’t we get you talking? I can go first. What is your problem with Onwier? My understanding is that he is from the same hatching as Rothlt and you both seem to respect Rothlt. What is different with Onwier?” Neither Setur nor Iradaemi chose to respond for a few moments.

  “It is not so simple.” Iradaemi hissed threateningly.

  “Setur is the one that needs to speak if you want to find Inadar.” Setur snorted derisively at Encer’s remark. Torroth chose to abandon the trees and join the conversation.

  “Encer has a good question. Onwier was nice to us when Anissa and I arrived.”

  “He is too stovinal. In all his nihaksor he has no stovekas.”

  “What does that mean Iradaemi?” Encer turned to the annoyed dragon.

  “He means that Onwier has a youthful mind despite all his long years. No mind aging.”

  “You just called a thousand year old dragon immature. Setur, why might you have said that?”

  “Because it is yarin. He has never done anything unless he thought it playing. Is that the correct use of the word?”

  “So Onwier doesn’t do anything unless it is fun?” Torroth covered his mouth in a mock yawn, but was unable to disguise the upward tilt to the corners of his mouth.

  “When humans tried to steal our hatchlings from the ever burning mountain, he chose to enter the eirden slumber. We defended our lands without his talons. He spent all the seasons since then in the towers.”

  “Good, that is a place isn’t it?” Torroth popped a couple fingers in expectation.

  “They would not be at the towers. Rothlt would have sent for us if she had been.” Iradaemi’s statement, while disappointing, was explanation enough for Encer to continue with his interrogation.

  “So she can’t be at the… wherever that may be. Has Onwier never done anything worthy of note?”

  “He did spend a time at the ever burning mountain, but only because Rothlt demanded he do so. They would not be there either.” Setur eyed Encer as he forestalled the inevitable question.

  “The black one felt that I required time with ones of my own stovinal. Foolishness.” Onwier twitched irritably at the memory.

  “As interesting as it is hearing about Onwier, we are trying to find where Inadar is.” Torroth interjected with a trace of his original ill humor.

  “I agree with one Encer’s words. It has been… amusing witnessing this human pry words from these young dov.”

  “Young dov…! I have flown for near two hundred cold seasons.” Iradaemi raised up in indignation.

  “I have had the air beneath my wings for nigh unto a thousand cold seasons.”

  “We get your point. You are nearly a thousand years old and deserve respect.” Torroth’s statement alternately elicited annoyed snorts from the younger two and agreement from the golden one.

  “Enough! I will speak without your assistance. It is near enough to drive one back to the north.”

  “Where were you in the north? I was told you were patrolling the northern borders.” Torroth joined in again.

  “The forest of ever summer. Humans dwell in the trees and are not above hunting our lands.” Setur was still aggravated by the earlier conversation.

  “Wait, are you talking about the fir forests?” Encer broke in with a little excitement.

  “There are many furs in this forest. The animals are too small to hunt so they are useless to us.” Setur’s face drew together in a confused frown.

  “That isn’t what I meant. I was talking about the trees that stay green all year long. The fir trees.” Encer rolled his eyes in exasperation.

  “Many of the trees keep their summer color. It is an intriguing sight to see with the fallen clouds covering them.” Setur nodded towards the copse of pines that Torroth had arrived from.

  “If I remember correctly, there is a castle in that forest. Fir something.” Encer snapped his fingers trying to recall the name.

  “Firgrest. It is where Reign takes most of his Gifted prisoners. There are all sorts of stories about what happens there.” Torroth glowered at the prospect. It made sense if Inadar had been captured. When he had left them, they had been the most hunted group in the land.

  “This Firgrest is known to us.” Iradaemi tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she thought.

  “If one Torroth speaks yarin, then we must hasten.” Onwier’s comment seemed to offend Setur somehow.

  “About that, how are we going to get there?” Encer suddenly regretted having volunteered on this fool’s errand when he noticed Iradaemi flexing her talons.

  “Wear your hardened skins and we will fly with you.”

  “That doesn’t sound safe. Your claws look razor sharp and what happens if you drop us?”

  “One Encer first compliments our talons then insults with no nihalin. His words cause inmack” Onwier stretched up to his full height and looked down on Encer disapprovingly.

  “It isn’t that. It just makes more sense to ride on your back instead of in your claws.” Torroth’s contribution created more agitation that Encer’s assertion.

  “Dov are not horse creatures. We will not be ridden!” Iradaemi was nearly smoking.

  “All right. It was just an idea. Encer and I will put our armor on then you can carry us however you see fit, only please do not drop us.”

  “This is agreeable to us.” Following his comment Setur backed away a few paces and stretched his wings. Torroth slipped his old armor on and belted his sword into place. The light plate armor was the same he had worn on that fateful night when he had ridden into Dragon’s Hamlet with Verkal. Encer’s battle harness was stiff from disuse and required Torroth’s assistance to get it fastened into place. It consisted of a plate on the breast and back with hardened leather along the sides and shoulders under the rows of buckles that allowed the armor to fit a myriad of body sizes and shapes. A few similar plates were strapped around the legs, arms and thighs providing reasonable mobility while defending most of the critical regions. Iron studded leather pieces protected his joints. An older design, but one that was sufficient for its purposes. With their helmets in place, they announced their readiness to the waiting dragons.

  It was somewhat unnerving to have the dov take wing without further direction. The two warriors then discovered how the dragons intended to taking up their passengers. Setur was the first and spared Torroth but little as he wheeled and swooped down to snatch the man
up. Encer closed his eyes at the last moment to block out the image of Onwier advancing on him with claws splayed. He discovered that despite the deadly appearance of the claws, the dragon had superb control and grasped him about the abdomen without crushing or impaling him. It was a giddy sensation being separated from the ground he had been born and raised upon.

  Seeing the trees from above was a fascinating experience. Circling to gain altitude, they were presented a view of the village that heretofore only the dragons had enjoyed. A moment later and they soared over the ridge top, barely clearing the tree tops, leaving the village behind. The flight north was conducted mostly over the mountains leaving the two humans glad that they had minimal amounts of skin exposed to the biting wind. They acquired a new admiration of the majestic snow encrusted peaks that made up the Vaulwar Mountains. Below, the jagged summits passed in quick succession. The wilderness had a terrifying majesty that both loomed forbiddingly large while luring seductively. This effect could only be seen from the air. Once on the ground, one’s vision was limited to a small portion of the granite sentinels. It required no explanation as to why the dragons chose to make the Vaulwar their homes.

  After a few hours of dangling from the dragon talons, Encer spied the beginnings of the evergreen forest. From this perspective, it appeared to be a rich green velvet cloak cast over the landscape. The frayed edges dissolving into isolated pockets of verdant green before the flatlands took their place. It had once been a region of volcanic unrest. This was evidenced by the tumultuous lands enveloped in the flowing green cloak. Hill and vale cut the land unto the perfect haven for any who sought refuge. The ragged land, no doubt, secreted brigands of many fashions. If any chose to travel the paths that wound through the forest, they were assuredly taking their life in their hands. Firgrest was staffed with enough soldiers to keep the miscreants a few measures distant, but the rest of the timberland was a lawless region that even Reigns spared no effort taming.

  The thought of assaulting Firgrest made Encer uneasy. It was a castle that had withstood the siege of Illiad’s father for years. Now they sought to besiege it with three dragons and two warriors. One warrior was still young enough to be impulsive, but the other was past his prime and should have known better. Mytera’s demands presented themselves before his mind’s eye. They now held more reason that they had only a few hours past. As they approached the castle, the dragons dropped down until they were only skimming the tops of the trees. Without warning Firgrest emerged on its hillock. Encer had never seen the castle before, but having seen, he now further doubted their success. When Illiad had undertaken to rebuild the castle, it had been with the intent of a hunting lodge instead of an impregnable fortress. No matter the intent, having built upon the foundations of the ancient castle imparted a degree of defendability that was foreboding.

  Acting on a silently communicated decision, the dragons beat the air and flew high over the walls to deposit their cargo unceremoniously on the top of the central tower. Wheeling, they fell upon the soldiers below that were shouting in surprise at the sudden attack. Brushing themselves off took a moment. Finding that the stiffness worked out and that the landing had incurred no more than slight bumps through the armor, they drew their weapons in preparation. Their arrival had not gone unnoticed and a portion of the men, those not occupied with the dragons, had been dispatched to the tower.

  “I hear them. Are you ready?” Torroth took a position by the top of the spiraling staircase that opened up to the roof.

  “Aye, we hold the high ground. We will have to fight our way down the tower, but… so be it.” Just then the tower shook as Onwier crashed into it before rebounding off the wall into the courtyard where chaos soon reared its head.

  “We had best be going down sooner than later. I would hate to be up here when the tower falls.” Encer merely nodded his head in agreement before falling on the first of the men to appear at the head of the stairs. The soldier was arrayed in the garb of Reigns’ personal guard and armed with only a round shield and a straight blade. Encer’s straight blade crashed into the shield of the man, driving him back a step into the confines of the stair well. The men behind were unable to get into the fray as Torroth appeared from above and smashed a shoulder into the man’s face. His sword clattered to the steps as the soldier lost his balance and toppled onto the men below. Most of them were archers tasked with raining death down on the dragons below. They hadn’t thought to confront soldiers at the top of the central tower and so had not cumbered themselves with weapons heavier than their crossbows. Torroth abandoned his sword and drew a twin set of heavy bladed knives suited to fighting within the confined space. Encer picked up the discarded straight blade and used it to effect on any that Torroth shoved past.

  Blood soon made the steps a slippery slope to defend. It was more so dangerous to advance on. Torroth, tripping on a fallen soldier, fell into the mass of men before him. Encer seized the moment to furiously strike left and right with the blades he wielded, driving them back enough for Torroth to regain his feet. With his stance barely attained, the tower shook again as another dragon fell against the walls. It was the distraction that cost half the men in the stairs their lives. Torroth quickly overpowered the remaining men who were only armed with their bows. His lightning blades and light plate proved more than adequate. With the last of them silently bleeding on the floor, Torroth paused to catch his breath.

  “Thanks Encer. I thought I was done for when I fell.”

  “I am not to be discounted yet because of the gray in my beard.”

  “So it would seem. I would like my sword back if you can spare it. You do have a gift with them though.”

  “Take it. I would rather use my dagger in these stairs.”

  “Let’s get out of here before they bring it down on us.” Torroth’s remark was further reinforced by an unsettling trembling in the tower. With all reasonable haste, they bounded over the last of the men in the stairs and hurried down. At one point, they were thrown off their feet as a crushing blow was dealt to the side of the tower. Masonry flew and the stones shifted along the wall. Taking the sad state of the tower structure as encouragement, the two warriors soon reached the bottom of the tower. A soldier having logically chosen to seek refuge at the base of the tower found enemies at his back before he could respond in his defense. Stepping over the corpse, Torroth pushed open the door and discovered himself on a balcony at the back of a dozen men training crossbows down at the door of the great hall. The door had a dozen men endeavoring to reinforce the timber that was placed across the great double doors. From the way the men were being thrown back and the way the hinges were creaking every couple moments, a beast of significant size was intent on breaking in. The door might not have been in great danger, had it been constructed with the intent of keeping a battering ram out, but as the fates would have it, hunting lodges are often adorned with thinner doors of an ornamental nature designed to keep wind, rain, and snow out while keeping heat in.

  Encer nodded to Torroth before they stepped out of the door and fell upon the archers at the railing. Half the dozen men were cut down before they realized a foe, or even two, was in their midst. The cries of warning that the remainder raised as they recklessly fired their crossbow bolts were futile. The poorly aimed bolts saved the two warriors the effort required to incapacitate two of the remaining men. Two more spent their last moments feverishly trying to load the weapons for another assault. One chose to flee down the stairs to the lower level, but tripping on a step, he fell into the banister and landed with his sightless eyes staring at a tapestry adorning the ceiling with an unnatural angle to his neck. The most courageous of the castle defenders drew a hunting knife and a steak knife before he charged the two intruders. His courage was wasted with both Torroth’s knives piercing the thin leather that his chest was arrayed in.

  Finishing the two still engrossed with winding their bows, Torroth seized a loaded weapon that one of the first to die had left unfired. Taking aim, Torrot
h felled one of the men intent on keeping to insistent dragon outside. Encer found another loaded bow and followed suit, but with aim that was rusty from years of neglect and embedded his bolt an inch to the left of the ear of a soldier. The alarm was shouted out before either could fire another projectile. Half the men abandoned the door and charged up the stairs with sword, mace, or hammer in hand, but they found their assault to be ill-advised. The two were well fortified at the top of the stairs and brooked no retreat.

  It was then that the crossbow men on the opposing balcony chose to announce their intents with a hail of quarrels. The daunting prospect of having dragons bashing in the great doors and two unannounced intruders slaying their comrades served to instill a quiver in their hands that sent most of the bolts awry. One still glanced off Encer’s breastplate and another grazed his helm. Encer took that moment to shoved Torroth from his place at the top of the stairs and motioned towards the archers reloading in the other side. Engaging the men that pressed him with all his skill, Encer was able to keep his place, but the bright flecks of metal on his armor showed where a few strikes passed his whirling blade.

  Torroth traversed the room at a full run and reached the opposing side as a couple of the men finished reloading their weapons. The first nearly managed to fire before Torroth cut into him. The second was behind and only discovered the misfortune of his position when his comrade fell placing the flashing blades in painfully close quarters, rendered his loaded weapon useless. Wrenching the crossbow from the man’s grasp, Torroth plunged one of his knives into the man’s throat. Yanking it free, he spun and brought the bow down in a splintering blow in the head of the next soldier. The force caved in the side of the soldier’s helm and knocking him over the rail. He barely felt the bolt cut into his side as he brought a heel into the gut of the next man causing him to follow his comrade over the railing. A well placed cut across the bow of the remaining archer caused it to snap and swing the shattered arm of the crossbow back into the face of the unsuspecting archer. A quick stab was all that was needed to finish the distracted man a moment later.