by Sam Ferguson
“We don’t allow fighting here,” the blonde man said as he sniffed and glowered down at Kiuwa, a notable feat given the fact that Kiuwa was nearly seven feet tall himself.
“And cheaters will answer to the local guard,” said the dark-haired man next to him.
“I don’t care for gambling,” Torgath said.
Kiuwa and Tui didn’t bother to add anything else, and Torgath failed to acknowledge the no fighting remark.
“Don’t get fresh with the servers either,” the blonde man put in as the trio continued walking to the counter off to the left of the main hall.
“A lot of rules,” Tui commented.
“They only mentioned three,” Torgath said.
“Three rules that Tui has already broken on numerous occasions,” Kiuwa said.
Tui arched a brow, feigning insult. “When have I ever cheated?”
Kiuwa rolled his eyes and grunted rather than dignify his brother with a response.
“Let’s see what kind of room we can arrange for,” Torgath said, changing the subject as they neared the inn keeper.
The woman behind the bar stood with her shoulders squared and her icy blue eyes set on Torgath as he approached. She reached up to sweep a lock of blonde and gray hair from her forehead and then leaned forward onto the bar.
“Drink, food, or lodging?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tui said eagerly as he quick-stepped to the bar and set down his crate of supplies.
The woman smiled from the left corner of her mouth. “Long journey ahead of you?”
Torgath reached into his purse. “How much for three meals and three beds?”
The woman frowned. “The meals run a silver each. If you want mead instead of ale then add a copper. As for the rooms, ‘fraid I only have one room with two beds available. All the other rooms are bought for tonight.”
“Cot?” Torgath asked.
The woman shook her head. “I can send up extra blankets if someone is willing to sleep on the floor.”
Torgath nodded. “Done. How much?”
“Two silver for the night, I won’t charge for the extra blankets.”
“Who’s sleeping on the floor?” Tui asked.
Torgath smiled behind his mask. “I’ll take the floor, Tui. I know how you like your soft mattresses.”
Tui opened his mouth to say something, but then must have realized that retorting could cost him the bed, and decided to accept the jab.
“Beef or lamb?” the woman asked.
“Lamb,” Torgath replied.
“Same,” Kiuwa and Tui said together.
The woman nodded and disappeared through an opening in the wall behind her. A moment later two younger women emerged carrying plates of food. Torgath figured they were the inn-keeper’s daughters, for they shared the same nose and eyes. The women served the trio and then disappeared once more.
The inn-keeper returned a short while later with a pitcher of ale and three mugs. “Traveled far?” she asked.
Torgath nodded. “Some could say so,” he replied.
The woman continued to ask questions, which Tui happily answered. The orc let the two carry on their conversation while he picked apart his roasted steak of lamb leg. His mind wandered back to his village, and he realized that he had traveled perhaps as much in spirit as he had in distance.
His hands worked his fork and knife while his memories rose up in his mind, recreating his encounter with Glimwyrm in its entirety.
It had been a bright, but exceptionally cold day upon the mountain, one that would forever change his path.
The recorders stopped behind a tall pile of boulders near an opening in the rocks at the mountaintop. Torgath felt his heart beating faster with each step as he moved through a narrow space between two walls of stone that led into a cave at the peak. From the legends, he knew that the tunnel would carry him into a kind of crater-like bowl atop the mountain, rimmed with jagged cliffs of stone. It was inside the caldera that Glimwyrm slept, absorbing the ambient heat from the nearly dead volcano.
Torgath’s eyes adjusted to the darkness as the cave veered off to the side, but the passageway became too tight for him to carry his backpack and other supplies with him. Instead, he had to take only his weapons and a small coil of rope that he could coil over his shoulder. The bandages, food, and other supplies had to remain behind. At one point, the cave narrowed into a miniscule tunnel that could only be crawled through upon Torgath’s stomach. He shoved his sword out in front, and inched his body through the gap like a worm pushing its way through the soil, until some twenty feet later he emerged into a larger chamber filled with stalactites and large Dormor Bats, a venomous species known for being both territorial and ill-tempered.
The orc studied each of the seven bats he could see as he slowly rose from the hole he had been crawling through. One of the creatures shuddered, almost opening its wings while it let out a strange yawn that sounded like a squeaking newborn, but the others remained quiet and still. Dormor Bats, like other species, were nocturnal, so Torgath had a good chance of making it through the chamber without incident if he could do so quietly.
He noticed a single column of light coming from the ceiling. A two foot wide chimney opened up the stone ceiling and gave access to the sky beyond. It was the perfect chute for the bats, but was no good for Torgath. He pressed onward until he found another small tunnel at the base of the wall opposite from his entrance.
He silently cursed his luck. Scrambling into another such tube was going to increase the risk of making noise. He glanced back at the large bats, each as tall as his forearm was long. They seemed peaceful, gripping the rocks with their feet some twenty feet above his head, but he knew they would descend on him in short order if he woke them.
Dormor bats had exceptionally good eyesight, and would lock onto his position with ease.
Slowly, he moved to his knees and assessed the chute. It was slightly wider than the one he had used to enter this chamber, and seemed fairly level, though there was a curve about ten feet into the tunnel. Knowing that the Dormor bats were hanging above him, he disliked the idea of tunneling head first as it would leave his feet and legs exposed. Dormor bats had long fangs that could easily sink through his trousers, perhaps even pierce through the hide boots he wore.
A bat screeched above him and flapped its wings. Torgath readied his sword, but the creature only shifted a bit to the side and then wrapped itself back in its leathery wings.
Torgath turned his back to the tunnel and stretched out prone, his sword unsheathed and ready in one hand while he held the scabbard with the other. He shuffled his way backward, his feet gently tapping the sides of the tunnel to guide him as he moved along. His eyes scanned the ceiling, peering through the darkness for any sign of movement. When it came time to move his sword he lifted the blade above the ground so as to avoid scraping it along the stone. After a couple of minutes he was entirely in the chute, staring continuously at the opening as he inched his way along.
When his feet struck the curve, it seemed that he was far enough into the tunnel he could dismiss the Dormor bat threat, but as he gently tapped the side to get his bearings, something squished between his boot and the wall.
A rodent let out a shriek.
Torgath pressed into the creature with his boot, crunching the bones and ending its life, but the damage was done.
A bat screeched from beyond the tunnel, then a second, and then a third.
One of the creatures landed at the base of the tunnel and peered in with its shining yellow eyes. The angry orbs locked onto Torgath’s, and then the bat let out a blood-curdling scream that sounded more like an infant’s fearful cry than something an animal would make. Using its wings like forelegs the animal charged into the tunnel. Torgath readied his sword and used it like a spear to pierce the bat’s chest only to discover a second bat had followed right behind the first, and was climbing over the dying bat and making its own attack.
Torgath used the scabbard to knock the second bat
into the tunnel wall and then angled his blade in such a way that he could press the edge into the bat’s neck. The blade bit into the animal and spilled its green blood slowly, all the while the animal bared its fangs and tried to attack the sword.
A third bat soared in through the opening, but this one was small enough that it could glide through the chute. Torgath swung the scabbard, but the bat adjusted upward and sailed over it. At the last moment, just before Torgath took a venomous bite to the shoulder, the orc twisted and managed to use his elbow to pin the bat face-first against the stone. The creature gnawed at the stone with its hideous venom dripping from its fangs.
Torgath pressed harder, snapping the bat’s fangs first, and then finally hearing the bat’s neck pop and the animal went limp.
Two more large Dormor bats entered the tunnel and proceeded to charge on their legs.
“Mangy beasts!” Torgath shouted. He was both thankful and spiteful of the tunnel walls around him, for while they did provide a bottle neck and shielded his back and legs, he also couldn’t move as well as he’d like. He shuffled himself back around the corner, tromping all over the dead rock mouse that had woken the bats in the first place, and readied his sword and scabbard for another attack.
Instead, he heard high pitched squeals and the distinct sound of teeth tearing through flesh and sinew.
In spite of his predicament, the orc felt an urge to go back around the corner and check to see if he was really hearing evidence that Dormor bats were feeding on their fallen, but he knew that would only invite the bats to attack again. He slid farther into the tunnel as quickly as he could while keeping his eyes on the curve and watching for following Dormor bats.
After several minutes, the tunnel squeezed him tighter, but his heels could no longer find the tunnel’s ceiling. Unable to turn in such a way to see what kind of chamber he was entering, he slowed his crawl just in case there were more Dormor bats.
Given the fact there was no increase in available light, he surmised that he had not found the cave’s exit yet.
He carefully worked himself out of the chute until he could turn around, then he held his sword at the ready and looked up. Instead of a ceiling some twenty feet above him, he saw only a cavernous darkness that swallowed everything around it. There was no telling whether there were Dormor bats or anything else above him.
Never one to worry about something he couldn’t change, he crept forward, looking for the cave’s continuance.
Instead, he found only a chasm near the left side of the chamber that led down.
The orc sheathed his sword and began the descent, careful not to make noise of any kind. At the bottom of the opening, he found another tunnel, but the area was so dark that even his dark vision could only see a couple feet in front of him. He drew his sword and used it to guide him through the tunnel. He walked around several bends and turns, climbed over piles of rock and bones, and then finally came to an opening that poured light into the tunnel from beyond.
The orc went to the opening and then stopped to survey the area beyond.
He was at the bottom of the caldera. Tall, red and black plants covered the stony ground. A pool of green water stood in the center of the bowl, and jagged spires rose above the bowl’s rim on every side, capped with snow and ice.
Torgath’s heart nearly stopped in his chest.
There was no place to use for cover.
No structure. No trees. No other caves within reach.
If he walked out into the caldera, he would be little more threat to the dragon than a mouse to an eagle.
But if he didn’t go through with the quest, then he would be branded a coward.
The orc sat there just inside the cave, his eyes scanning the field of strange plants while he tried to work out a strategy in his mind. He knew the dragon’s vision in the dark would be far better than his own, so waiting until night to strike seemed useless; it would only serve to tire him out.
Charging in the daytime was equally futile.
Now I see why Glimwyrm is feared among our people.
The beast had a perfectly impenetrable home.
Well.
Nearly perfect.
Torgath removed his sword and set it off to the side while he dared to venture out just a few yards from the cave’s entrance. He used his dagger to slip under the roots of some of the tall plants and pulled them from the earth. The orc removed his tunic and used it to hold an ample amount of earth and plants, then went back into the cave. Over the next several hours, he carefully cut the cloth of his tunic and trousers so that he could weave a kind of ghillie suit with the plants and dirt. When he was nearly finished, he rubbed the coarse, black soil all over his body, masking his scent with the sulfuric odor so abundant within the caldera. When his suit was ready, he crept out once more, crawling low to the ground and careful not to rustle too many plants nearby.
The process was painfully slow, making his shimmy through the tight chutes seem like sprints in comparison. He knew he could only make minute movements in order to avoid catching the dragon’s attention.
He crept toward the lake in the center of the caldera, assuming that the dragon was sleeping within its waters as it was rumored to do, but as he was nearly half way to the body of water a large shadow swept over the land.
Torgath froze and held his breath as heavy wings beat the air and a great beast dropped down somewhere between him and the cave behind.
“I have been watching you,” the beast said in a low, guttural voice. “You didn’t think you could fool me with those plants did you?”
Torgath held motionless, knowing that it was possible the dragon could only catch his scent faintly, and hadn’t actually seen him as of yet. If that was the case, then giving in to the wyrm’s scare tactics would only seal his fate.
“Come, stand, and let us face off honorably, for that is why you have come, is it not?”
Torgath closed his eyes as his right hand gripped his sword. He strained his ears, listening not to the dragon’s words but to its breathing, and any signs of motion.
“Really now, must we play this game, Torgath?”
Torgath’s eyes shot open. How did it know his name?
“Stand now, and we shall have an honorable duel. Continue to try and hide and I shall bathe you in acid.” As if to prove it knew where Torgath was, a rock thumped down on Torgath’s back. “There, you see, it is no trick. I know where you are.”
Torgath sighed and stood up. His heart beat faster than at any point in his life, but he knew he couldn’t hide from the beast. “How did you know my name?” the orc asked. Torgath turned and looked at Glimwyrm. The dragon had thick, green scales ranging from nearly black on its back and spines to a light mossy green along the underside of its neck and belly. It was not as large as Torgath had guessed, maybe forty feet long from snout to tip of the tail, though the tail ended in a ball of barbed spikes that would surely make minced meat of Torgath if he wasn’t careful.
Glimwyrm spread its wings and snarled. “I am Glimwyrm. I have roosted in this mountain since before your kind arrived in these parts. I know you, because of all the orcs, you are the only one who could smell the way you do.”
“Smell?” Torgath echoed.
Glimwyrm grinned and launched into the air.
Torgath startled and raised his sword, but the dragon soared beyond him and landed near the pool.
“Come, half-orc, and I shall reveal your true enemy.”
Torgath clenched his jaw. “Half orc?” His heart thumped in his chest and a fiery rage ignited within his chest that almost caused him to throw out caution and strategy. “No one has ever dared insult me in even half so much as you, wyrm,” Torgath replied as he took a few steps toward the dragon.
Glimwyrm chortled, expelling small wisps of dark smoke from his nostrils and throat. “Interesting choice of words,” the dragon said. “In any case, what I tell you is true. You have a smell about you, that of something far more loathsome than a full blooded o
rc.”
Torgath set his jaw and strode toward the dragon.
Glimwyrm raised his tail and slammed it straight down, shaking the ground beneath Torgath’s feet. “Didn’t you ever wonder why your uncle sent you here to me?”
“I am here on a quest to prove my honor,” Torgath snarled.
“Are you?” Glimwyrm narrowed his eyes and lowered his neck slightly. “Or did he send you here to die? Perhaps your uncle knows what I know.”
Torgath shook his head. “Lies and deceit. Those are a dragon’s first weapons.”
Glimwyrm laughed and then drew a line of fire-breath in the dirt several yards before Torgath. “I should think you’d be more concerned with my breath, teeth, and tail.”
“Fight me honorably,” Torgath said. “I fear nothing.”
“In the history of all quests given by orcish councils, only one of them has involved sending an orc to face a dragon. Didn’t you ever question why such a laughably impossible task was given to you?”
Torgath reached for his crossbow, but frowned when he remembered that he had not been able to bring it, or his other supplies, with him into the caldera.
“And of all the dragons, they send you to me. Rather odd, when you think about it.”
“You slew our first chief, and you kept his sword,” Torgath shouted. “Now come to me and let’s end this.”
“Oh no, no I think not,” Glimwyrm leapt into the air and circled back to the far side of the pool.
“Do you fear me, dragon?” Torgath shouted.
The dragon reached into the pool with his left foreleg and moments later brought something up from the depths. The sunlight glistened off the dragon’s wet limb and sparkled along the droplets falling back into the pool.
“If it is the weapon you seek, then here it is, I give it to you without contest, but to wield its power you will need my blessing.”
Torgath watched as the dragon opened its talons and revealed a blade made of black steel. The handle was like ivory, but slightly duller. “My quest is to slay you and earn the weapon back,” Torgath replied.
“Your quest is a lie. Your uncle sent you to die.”
