“Understood. Though, will I be able to find this place? I’ve never ventured outside and –”
“You will, you will,” started Felduror reassuringly, “it’s a surprisingly insignificant place somewhere south-west from here. I shall provide you with all the necessary to find it. Besides you won’t be travelling alone!”
“I beg your pardon?” Ghaeloden’s surprise could not be restrained.
“The imp that summoned you here. He could come in quite handy since humans are not accustomed to the Drakhahouls anymore. There will be a time to show them our might, soon enough, but for the time being we should proceed with caution,” Felduror replied.
“I see.”
“He can easily be mistaken for a human child, and if need be, I’ll allow him to use some spells to assume human-shape while making enquiries. You do not need to reveal yourself and, once again, no use of spells. Me and your king are keen to see how you fare without the need of such thing. Are we not, my enlightened king?”
“I am very keen indeed,” replied Belrug.
“Then it shall be my mission to please you, my king.” Ghaeloden bowed.
Felduror was pleased to see the young dragon accept his task without being too quizzical. “Good! I will send the creature with directions and further instructions! You are to leave at first light!”
The Armoury
Ghaeloden / Nuuk
The quiet dawn was promising a cloudless sky, even if a salted, sharp breeze picked up from the seas of the east. It would carry autumn’s piercing cold pretty soon; the type of cold that made the sun appear distant and weak and turned vegetation yellow, orange and then dead-brown in a matter of days.
Ghaeloden was waking after a restless night; the wizard’s request to venture beyond the walls had troubled his sleep aplenty, even though it was enticing to say the least.
What could he possibly want with a witch?
He remembered how hard he had tried to keep his curiosity at bay when the wizard had revealed his plan the previous evening. He recalled the wizard’s wicked smile, tinged with trails of disgust and even envy, at the mention of her name. And he could also recollect the desperation and urgency in his voice as he told him to find her.
Only one thing had been more distressing; his own unanswered attempts at reaching Belrug’s mind. Without any words, Ghaeloden had tried to reach deep within his king’s mind. He had dug beyond the foggy irises and deadly flesh, somewhere where only dragons could reach. He had hoped to find him somewhere in there, alas all he had found was emptiness; a desolate darkness he had been unable to pierce. In vain he had whispered, all he had received was silence. Whenever his king had spoken, his words had been cold and hollow. And that hadn’t been the case for the previous evening alone, no, it had happened every single time he had been summoned.
It was as if the king was absent-minded.
With a jaw snap at empty air, he delivered himself to the present, thinking that the opportunity to leave those forsaken walls and lands was sweeter than any other foul instinct the cold morning could deliver from the previous, restless night.
He stretched his wings and body and displayed his potent stature upon the dark waters of the pond. A yawn that could encompass an oxen cart exposed a crowd of sparkling, sharp fangs and a long and pointy tongue that undulated up and down. His briefly glimpsed the reflection of his big eyes, like burning embers, glowing brightly against the morning’s dull light. The cracks that issued along his long neck, spine and tail dimmed the noisy footsteps that were rushing towards him.
He could hear the imp panting hastily towards the pond. The rhythm of his bare feet appeared to be disturbed by something he was carrying. The consideration of that peculiar thought carried another frustration from the previous night; he was supposed to carry an imp on his back.
A mighty Drakhahoul reduced to being a beast of burden?
The rekindled desperation of his mind, made him wish he had let his instinct run and bit the old man’s head like a rotten twig.
He swallowed his ire and let it wane with another brief stretch. This was not how he liked commencing his day.
The imp was almost there. A tall and loose shoulder-bag hampered his steps and made him run awkwardly. Obviously, the bag was not made for him, nor had the wizard bothered to find a more appropriate one. It fell and he picked it up a couple of times and when his arms gave in from the effort, the bag touched the ground and slowed his stride – it was about time that he stopped and made a knot in the lengthy straps.
“Are you ready for this venture, imp?” Ghaeloden asked when the little creature arrived at the pond.
He dropped the bag at his feet and stooped with his hands on his knees, heaving for air. There was something funny about his reddened face, yet the dragon’s attention was captured by a piece of paper that the imp kept in his right hand.
“Yes, mast –” the imp took a deep breath, “yes, your mightiness, in a moment.”
“Is there any particular reason for the bag?” continued the dragon, curious to know if there was anything inside.
“Well of course, clothes and my food! I cannot eat what a dragon eats. I wouldn’t try to consume meat, not if I was being starved to death,” the imp replied.
“Have you ever had to suffer hunger? Really suffer it, as you say, ‘starved’? I think you’d reconsider if that were the case and someone offered you a piece of meat.”
“I have not. I’ve suffered many other mistreatments; however, I consider it wrong to consume someone’s or something’s flesh. I mean it with no disrespect, your might –”
“I am not your mightiness, creature!” growled Ghaeloden.
“I apologise,” the imp replied, chin low on his chest.
It took a moment before the dragon continued. “Never mind. I know you are, or used to be, a very capable flyer over short distances, still, I hope you are not too scared of dreadful heights and astounding speeds!” he asked with an air of superiority.
“I was afraid of mentioning it, most kind Ghaeloden. I could not sleep a wink last night thinking about it. Not only am I not scared, but I would be honoured! It would make me the happiest of the Iprorims, the only imp to have been granted such an opportunity.” There were honest sparks of tears in the imp’s big eyes, and his voice was shaking.
Imagine the joy! An imp-rider on the back of a dragon.
The idea of being a beast of burden was hard to shake off. If it wasn’t for his own plans, he would have rebelled at such a preposterous proposition.
Saddened by the sight of his indolent king, an idea had formed in his mind with suspicions of the wizard, a long while ago. He had to be right – what other possible reason could be there to explain why his king had become so dim-witted? And if he was right, and he succeeded, he would become the redeemer, the one that freed his king. Who knows what favours he would be granted then? He had vowed to keep things to himself, disliking ardently the idea of sharing his plans with other Drakhahouls. Most likely they only considered Belrug to be afflicted by some illness, or worse, believed what the old wizard told them, that he had been poisoned with the help of some old stones.
He kept the need to growl in the back of his throat and managed somehow to mask his annoyance. “To that extent, I hope this will stay between us. There’s no need for others to know what we are doing.”
“Surely!” A big smile formed on the ignorant imp’s pale face.
“And that in your hand should be the instructions?” The dragon changed the subject.
“Yes.” The imp flapped the papers in the air.
“Good! While you read them to me, we shall check for a saddle wide enough to fit my neck, that is if you still want to be able to walk after three days on my scaled-back. Unless, you’d want to ask the wizard to lend you his.” Ghaeloden let out a mocking snort.
“No, that would not be wise. Better to check with the horse master, he surely can be of help,” the imp suggested.
“Why not the armoury? There surely must be a
dragon saddle unused sitting there about, otherwise why would they still keep that old structure?”
“That is an excellent idea, mighty Ghaeloden. I’ve always had a passion and fascination for human weapons. I find their nature to excel in deadly tools curious.”
“Isn’t that the most peculiar thing to learn today?” The dragon was truly surprised. “An imp with a passion for human-weapons, ha!”
The imp wrongly interpreted the dragon’s remark and started tittering.
Ghaeloden interrupted him with a muffled throat-growl, which wasn’t entirely intentional, still, he was pleased the amusing moment quickly passed. Skies forbid someone saw an imp laughing alongside a dragon.
They exchanged no other words until they reached the armoury.
The edifice was fenced and squared by a thick set of fortifications and the entrance guarded day and night by shifts of Gholaks that blindly and unquestionably served Felduror. Few, if none, were ever permitted in this structure as it preserved many armaments of long-lost empires. Personal weapons of kings and queens, their armours and jewels, thrones and chariots and beloved works of art, some of which were considered to be imbued with magical powers. But, the wizard had little taste for works of art and never cared to inspect or arrange them inside his castle. He preferred to amass them and let the dust and insects of the dark eat them instead.
On this occasion the two brutes guarding the entrance of the fence that surrounded the building, were taller than the dragon expected. Their leather armours were stretched and cracked at the tiniest of movements, accentuating the bulk of their muscled bodies. They both had helmets partially covering their heads. The tallest of the two had a round wooden shield on his back and two curved swords showing dazzling-sharp edges. The other Gholak had a big spear, with a very thick shaft and a long spiked-blade, which at the tip was decorated by a silken-ribbon of red and black.
As they approached, the orcs did not even flinch, which was remarkable, considered Ghaeloden. He was accustomed to any orc, small or big, being scared and shiver at the sight of a mighty Drakhahoul such as himself. Some ran, some squeaked and some became as still as statues with eyes wide open; it comforted him and fed his ego every time, yet now he had already decided he despised these two orcs.
They actually proved bold enough and keen to put on their best war-faces, while lifting their palms in mid-air.
“Hold’eet there! What’z yaur businez ’ere dragon?” The smaller orc spoke while the other grimaced, showing his two oversized fangs.
“We came here for a dragon saddle, on special orders from our master, the wizard. Let us through!” the dragon replied authoritatively, avoiding the surprised look on the imp’s face.
“Got paperz?” the taller orc asked, stepping in front of his smaller mate.
“Of course we do. Show them, imp!”
Ghaeloden could see the imp trying to gain his attention, and he let out a snort to make him do as bidden.
“Here, here!” The imp took the list with the directions, the wizard had drawn and written for him, and extended his hand.
The two brutes moved simultaneously to grab it and started to quarrel in guttural, incomprehensive and low-pitched noises. Their bickering was brief; the taller one had managed to make the smaller recede with a sharp spin of the other’s wrist. He took his time to check the instructions and then handed the paper back to the imp.
“’Ere, all’s order!” he said and when the other orc tried to reach and check the papers himself the taller one stopped him with a hand on his chest and continued, “I sayz, all’s order!”
The smaller orc did not insist, instead he barked his own command, “Once ee’re done, be sure you lock’et back whiz thiz key. And bring’et back!”
The imp grabbed the key and paper and thanked the beasts. He folded them together and waited for the gates to open. He stood silent and only when they were far enough from the orcs’ prying ears, did Ghaeloden hear him heave a sigh of relief.
“How did you know they would let us pass?” the imp asked.
The dragon chuckled. “None of them were able to read, imp. How could you not know that?”
“I was very scared, even with your mightiness alongside me. Whenever I am scared, I cannot think clearly. I should’ve known that two brutes like those had never seen parchments before.”
“You must learn to control your emotions, creature. Many bad situations can be avoided if one thinks clear enough and doesn’t fall prey to distress.” The dragon spoke softly, brushing purposely and gently his knee on the tiny creature’s shoulder.
“Apologies,” said the imp moving slightly to one side, clearly thinking he had stepped in the dragon’s way.
“No need for it.” Ghaeloden smiled.
“Acknowledging the problem is the very first step towards its resolution!” Ghaeloden exclaimed and decided it was time to play a little trick on the imp.
Well I most certainly cannot fit inside the armoury nor can I watch through the thick walls of this windowless building, so you’ll have to be my eyes and ears while I wait outside! The dragon’s mind issued his thoughts to the imp without the need of spoken words.
“Surely, we –” the imp suddenly stopped, mouth ajar, eyes fixed on the dragon’s.
Clearly he hadn’t experienced such a thing before, thought the dragon and smiled.
You didn’t think my eyes and years simply meant that you’d be left alone in there now, did you? The Drakhahoul’s ironic tone echoed in the imp’s mind.
The little creature took a long while to realise what was happening, and when he did, he almost shouted, “Your mightiness can speak inside my mind?”
Yes, and there is no need to give voice to your words either, once you hear me! continued the dragon. When I am speaking in your mind you can think of an answer and that is what I will perceive. This way we will can communicate and nobody will be able to listen to us. Think of me as if I lived inside your own little head.
There was something strangely humorous about the confused visage of the imp. He looked like a human child, overwhelmed by things he could not completely grasp.
“So you can hear all my thoughts?” There was a certain trail of doubt and fear, mingling upon his face when he spoke. “And what if my own thoughts offend your mightiness?”
It is not as simple as that, Ghaeloden continued in the imp’s mind. I cannot hear that which is not directly linked to me and you! First there has to be an initial contact between us in order for me to gain admittance to your thoughts, hence my knee touching your shoulder just a moment ago. And not everything in your mind can be read or understood, even by our minds. Many thoughts lay obscured and blurred, woven in one’s mind and are very hard to deduce and comprehend their true meaning. Your thoughts are still your own, only what is related to the temporary bind between me and you can be perceived by my mind! The dragon’s explanation seemed to placate the frown on the imp’s forehead.
“I see!”
I know it is hard to fully comprehend, but you need not to worry. Besides, almost nothing of this world is of concern to a dragon. Why would I care if you consider me ugly, dangerous or a hideous meat-eater? Most of the time I am considered far worse things by the orcs, and boldly so with spoken words. Most of us dragons have learned to ignore and not actually care about these petty things. The dragon’s voice was less harsh, and he began to fear he had revealed a little too much of his own thoughts. Why don’t you give it a try?
To the imp, it appeared that the Drakhahoul was rather entertained by his difficulty in comprehending what he just said. Was he amused by the faces he made? Did the dragon, too, find him hideous? Was he to be mocked and ridiculed by this being as well?
Nuuk could not say for sure, nor could he comprehend how he found himself on such endeavour? Nothing made sense anymore; since being freed from the basements, he had hardly been allowed to leave the floors where he was serving Felduror, and now he was about to leave the empire’s lands entirely. Accompanie
d by a Drakhahoul, and better, on the back of one. It was beyond his wildest imagination, yet, opposed to the excitement the endeavour provided, he was scared of what it might bare.
He wondered if the dragon had heard any of his concerns, but it did not appear so since his expression remained unchanged.
Then I shall apologise now for things you might learn about me that may upset you, kind Ghaeloden! Nuuk’s thought found its way in Ghaeloden’s mind.
That won’t be necessary, now go on then! The dragon’s tone confirmed that none of his worries had been sensed, or maybe ignored, which was good either way.
The imp unlocked and cracked open the double wooden-door of the armoury, only to be hit by a stale smell which filled their noses and lungs.
An uncontrollable cough took over him, one the dragon had been smart to avoid with his tall neck.
When he was ready, he moved inside. It was too dark to see so he started looking for a torch, which he knew well enough where to find; to the right-hand side, where every single structure or room he was allowed to visit, kept one.
“Ghaeloden? I need some help lighting this torch, there’s nothing in here I can use,” he whispered, still unsure that his own thoughts would suffice to be heard by the dragon.
So if you were in mortal threat, you’d obey your master and not use a spell that could save your life? The dragon’s voice sounded cynical. Either way, come here!
Nuuk kept up the torch for the dragon to be able to light. With what was more like a cough to him, the torch set ablaze and he could now return into the darkness of the armoury.
If only I were allowed to use spells! thought the imp and no reply came back from the dragon.
Spells had been banned by the wizard throughout the castle and the empire’s lands. There were severe punishments for those caught using them, and his acolytes, the foreign creatures, had proved the most talented on sensing their practise and provenance.
The light of the torch sufficed only to appreciate how much dust his tiny feet could lift up from the old space. He could make out shapes up to a few feet in front of him, the rest of the vast and occupied armoury was not to be penetrated by such a dull light. Nothing inside seemed disturbed by daylight in years.
Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1) Page 12