Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1)

by Nicolae Ovidiu Baiculescu

  He quickly gained some distance from the entrance, the pace of his bare feet shifting to a more sliding stride so as to lift less dust on his way. Though, very few objects still revealed their true nature as the dust was piled in thick layers on every horizontal surface and where it failed to settle, dense spider webs took on decorating them. In such fashion, numerous tall statues stood like spectres lurking in the blackness; frozen warriors of defunct kings and queens that now, one could not tell which was what. Piles of sharp swords, spears, glaives, shields and axes, carelessly amassed, seemed blunted by time and dust, and only on a very few spots did his torch glimmer with reflected light from their metal sheen.

  “Mice!” he whispered the thought that has shadowed him since the entrance.

  If the smell had not convinced him, their sound was everywhere, their small steps drawn erratically on the dusted floor disturbed by his intrusion. They ran and hid between the mountains of abandoned objects and there they squeaked until they felt safe.

  Further ahead, a carriage that he could tell was festooned with golden ornaments, made an eerie spectacle immersed in thousands of spider webs thick as straws while deep in their cores the spiders were gleaming in his orange light, creeping deeper still on their bouncing surfaces. Undisturbed, he moved closer and with a hand brushed the dust off one door only to realise that the carriage was made in the purest of gold. The heavy golden doors and panels were bolted with small golden rivets and stood on four big and heavy golden wheels all held together by a square golden frame.

  He must’ve have failed to keep at bay his awe as the dragon intruded in his mind. What do you see?

  A carriage made entirely of gold! answered the imp, still mesmerised by the sight.

  Oh my, a golden carriage? I would very much like to see that! said the dragon. Have you found the saddle yet? he continued.

  It’s hard to see anything in here. Unless I knock into one it will take me a while to find it, if there are any. And there are many spiders and rats! I think I can even hear one breathe, the imp replied spotting one that just dashed from under the carriage.

  Keep looking then! replied the dragon.

  The imp circled the carriage and went straight for the pulling harness which he could just about see under a blanket of web. He was confident that it might be of some use, though there was barely any space to move around the carriage and here the spider webs seemed even thicker. He had to carefully place each foot to avoid getting hurt or trapped between the countless objects he could not see, and felt underneath.

  Moving sideways around the back of the bulky wagon, his foot slipped and rolled over a round object of some sort and he fell to his knees. He saved himself thanks to his free hand that clutched at one of the two golden steps. His torch flickered worryingly almost losing its strength, and when he thought its flame would die, it recovered its full brightness. In that moment he thought he had spotted something; a different light that reflected brighter on the carriage as soon as his torch appeared to lose its strength. He turned his head while lowering his torch behind a shield. He was right; on the far-left corner, between protrusions, something was glowing a bright purple-orange. The imp abandoned the harness in its place and started moving towards the beam.

  Considering how hard it had been to make the few steps to reach the harness, he gave up the idea of walking on the floor and started climbing on top of the chairs, crates and coffers that he thought were probably filled with silver, gold and foreign coins.

  From up there he could see better towards the beam of pulsing purple-orange light. It appeared to call him. He felt compelled to reach it, the faster the better. Still, he had to pay attention to the wobbling pieces of furniture, tools and items he was crawling on. He did not mind the dust and colourless crawlers anymore and he was moving as fast as his senses allowed. Whenever something trembled and felt unstable under his knees and free hand, he shifted and tried a different route. He slowly made good progress, feeling satisfied to burn the sticky webs in his way. It was not exactly a stroll in the gardens, more like a slow and arduous task to reach that corner.

  He finally made it. He was standing few feet away from the gorgeous beam of light, it’s purple haze clearly overwhelming the orange one. It emanated from behind a pile of things on top of which sat a sanguine-red imperial chair covered partially by a blanket.

  Taken by excitement he lifted the blanket too quickly and the flimsy wardrobe he was on shook for an instant before it quickly dropped to the floor taking the imp violently all the way down the pile. The chain reaction he caused, brought a havoc of sounds in the dark space that echoed through the room like brief thunder. Except a small knock against his lower back, he did not hurt himself, nor did he get stuck, yet the cloth he carelessly lifted was now burning, having fallen right over his torch. He picked it up fast from a corner and climbed hastily to the very top on the flipped wardrobe that lay over a pile of broken pieces of furniture. Once free to move his hand, he slammed the linen piece against the flat wall heartily. The cloth sparkled brightly for an instant and sizzled with many sparks, though the flames soon started to die down. With a deep breath of dust, burnt webs and fabric, he relaxed his body and looked around to see if there was still risk of fire, but there wasn’t.

  Dust fluttered and billowed in the air filling the back of his throat and his lungs. Falling prey to the thick grime, he started a convulsing dry-cough until his stomach hurt and big tears started falling down his cheeks. He closed his eyes gasping for air and pulled the neck of his shirt higher to cover his mouth. There was not much else he could do so he crawled back on the wardrobe and buried his face in his elbow while propping his back against the wall.

  And there he stood for a long moment until the thick wave of dust settled enough and he did not find breathing quite so harsh. Alas, the hand that kept the torch started to hurt. He had to hurry.

  With caution he advanced towards the light that had tumbled somewhere on his left side, deeper under the rest of the objects. Descending from the wardrobe, he found it on the floor, between broken pieces of rotten wood, metal bowls and cups and a chainmail. He had to squint his eyes as soon as he lifted a curled chainmail that partially covered it, the strong beam of light forcing his eyes to slits.

  It was an odd fashioned sceptre, rather short and with intricate vine shapes deftly sculpted on the stick, which was of a very peculiar matter, neither wood nor stone – more like bone. The tip, from which the light emanated, was even more peculiar, fashioning a head of a beaked-beast, that resembled a hawk of some sort, in the imp’s opinion. The source of the light were the beast’s eyes that had been replaced by two glowing, ember stones.

  Any luck yet? The irritated voice of the dragon disturbed his examination.

  Unexpectedly the imp felt rather impatient, I found some cords that might help, still, not a single saddle! though he was keen on examining the marvellous object on the floor, “I’m sure we can do with a horse’s one. We could try from the stables instead…

  With a bit of effort, he elongated his hand and carefully took the sceptre in his hand. A rush of energy issued from it and spread through his fingers all the way down to his toes and up to his big ears.

  The light of the hawk-figure’s eyes completely faded as he issued his thought towards the dragon, …the horse master might be able to help. I am certain he would not dare going against your mightiness’ wish.

  There was no reply.

  A long time passed and he started thinking he had said something he shouldn’t have.

  Master Ghaeloden, I am sorry I did not mean to offend. He tried thinking of what he might have said wrong.

  Nothing still. All quiet. He must have really offended the dragon. Fear and anxiety lifted from within and he knew he had to convince the dragon of his innocence; he could not compromise his journey on the back of the Drakhahoul, not like this.

  With reinvigorated strength he climbed back up the pile of objects, and reached the path he had previously found
. He increased his speed, feeling confident of his trail, alas, he fell hard when his knee hit a protrusion he had missed.

  “Youch!” he screamed, trying to claim first the torch he had lost again and then the sceptre.

  At last creature, what happened? I could not sense your presence anymore! The dragon’s tone was harsh.

  Master Ghaeloden? Nuuk was surprised to see that the stones inside the creature’s eyes started gleaming with the same purple-orange light, while the sceptre lay on the floor.

  What happened? repeated the impatient dragon.

  I fell. The pain was still acute, yet he was more intrigued by the object. I found something particularly strange. I think it’s because of it that you could not sense me anymore. It’s a bright sceptre that was buried by piles of other objects in a corner.

  What is it with you and shiny objects? Ghaeloden grew even more annoyed.

  I apologise, it caught my attention and once I finally found it and touched it you could not sense me anymore, apparently! He preferred to keep for himself how he failed to resist the wild and seductive force of the sceptre’s call.

  Find that harness and let’s be on our way! the dragon commanded.

  Promptly!

  The imp took his time to carefully retrace his steps and avoid another rough up with the dust and spider webs.

  Once back at the golden chariot, he took all the leather harnesses and wrapped them once, twice and thrice over his shoulders and returned to the entrance, the loose ends of the bridle still trailing on the dusty floor.

  Master Ghaeloden… oh! He realised that the sceptre was still in his hand.

  With care, he placed it on the floor and tried again, Master Ghaeloden, I am at the door!

  What took you so long, imp? Open the door but do not come out, put off that torch and leave the sceptre on the floor. I’ll peek inside!

  Although his voice sounded rough, there was a certain trace of unease as well as lust in the dragon’s voice.

  He did as bid and the dragon bent his long neck, touching the ground. His head was bigger than the massive double-gate of the armoury.

  “My, my!” The dragon allowed the words to break free out of his mouth as he peeked at the glowing sceptre at the imp’s feet.

  That is a really nice object, and it is glowing all right! Now let me see what you were jabbering about. Try picking it and speak to me, I want to see what… He did not finish his sentence as the imp disappeared entirely as soon as his fingers clutched the sceptre.

  The dragon blinked persistently, while moving his head sideways and trying to take a better look. “What sort of trickery is this?”

  “Ha-ha! You should see your face, master Ghaeloden!” said the imp as he dropped the glowing object on the ground.

  “Imp, you do realise what happened, do you? That sceptre made you completely vanish from my sight? There aren’t any items I know of that could accomplish that, and not in more experience and magic accustomed-hands than yours!”

  The imp stopped laughing and the dragon continued to talk.

  “Now I start to understand why the wizard keeps the armoury guarded. I wonder what other wonders might be concealed inside. This thing must’ve been here gathering dust for a long time. I think we should keep it!” Ghaeloden suggested.

  “But, what if the wizard finds out? He will not hesitate and turn me into ashes,” said the frightened imp. “No, you take it! I do not want to have anything to do with it. You keep it, master Ghaeloden!”

  “Imp, just put it inside your bag and let’s get moving. We are already late! There is no need to fret. Moreover, I do not think that the wizard will come looking for it any time soon. You’ve been well acquainted with the dust, that much of it only means years. And make sure you lock the doors!”

  The argument did not fully convince the imp but he knew that against the dragon there were no odds of winning the argument. He had recognised too well the lust in his voice when he had mentioned the golden carriage and had seen the sparkles in his eyes at the sight of the glowing sceptre. Yet, he could not blame him, he felt equally attracted to this object.

  So he took the sceptre, disappeared for a moment, and reappeared once he had placed it inside his bag. He checked once more to make sure there were no fire risks remaining, then lifted the harnesses from the floor. He locked the door as requested and returned the key.

  As they walked away from the armoury gates, leaving the brutes still arguing about in their guttural tongue, the dragon looked at the imp and said, “See, imp? I told you there was no reason for concern! And by the way, do you have a name?”

  The imp smiled, pleased greatly that a mighty Drakhahoul had asked. “My name is Nuuk!”

  Amongst The Clouds

  Nuuk / Ghaeloden

  Up in the sky above the citadel, the air was cooler even as the sun rose higher. Strong currents carried sporadic drops of rain from far along the coastline, which darted like dulled arrows against their skins and tasted salty on their lips. At this time of year, and this far north, the weather could shift frequently and brusquely. Luckily, Nuuk and Ghaeloden were already well on their way, soon to reach warmer lands.

  The morning events left them to gather their thoughts in silence, while enjoying the comfort of the fresh air caressing their bodies. The visit to the stables had provided them with the needed and improvised saddle and the imp couldn’t have been more grateful to the skilful services of the horse master – had he ridden the dragon on his sharp and stone-hard scales he would have seriously injured his bony legs.

  A long time had passed since Nuuk had flown, having been forbidden and impeded to do so since the very first moment of his capture and enrolment in the service of the wizard. Although the speed and elevation of the dragon’s flight was something he was not familiar with, it consoled him like nothing else to be up in the air again. He had never reached such heights and was fascinated with how soft and moist the clouds they encountered felt. The feeling made him smile, a smile that lingered on his wrinkled face at length.

  Overwhelmed by a strong desire to close his eyes, he freed one of his hands and raised it up while imaging it was him flying, not the dragon. With eyes still shut, he tightened his legs around Ghaeloden’s neck and freed his other hand as well, allowing the pleasant sensation to become more thrilling. Resentment, nostalgia, joy and fear, all mingled in his mind and body with vigour. Maybe that was the cause, not the powerful gusts of wind, that allowed bitter and happy tears to free themselves from his tightly shut eyes. Yet, he was smiling nonetheless. This was by far the happiest moment of his entire life. If only he could share it with his fellow Iprorims; Zula, Zilpha, Firk. But soon he realised he was not in Grora anymore and hadn’t been for a long while. The sad feeling overcame the joy in his mind and soon, too soon, the pure moment of happiness vanished. He was now tightly holding the harness, the smile upon his lips gone.

  What is the matter Nuuk? The dragon’s voice invaded the imp’s mind, as if aware of his inner turbulence.

  It is funny how fate mocks us, master Ghaeloden, said the imp. One moment we are happy and the very next instant we are sad!

  It is the rule of the living! We are not immortals and, even if one lived as long as the Drakhahouls live, this would not change. As a matter of fact, it could only get worse if one did not learn to cope with life’s measures, replied the dragon.

  The imp lost in his own observance, barely made sense of what the dragon said, and allowed his thoughts to leave his mind, I have been kept against my will for far too long. I have lost my youth alongside a path that was not mine to travel. I wish to be free again!

  Ghaeloden took some time to respond. We should always cherish what we have in the moment and never regret our own choices, be them wrong or good. Alas, I’ve made many wrong ones myself, I consider that what mattered more, was the success in amending them.

  True, though the reason I am here was not my choice! replied the imp, awoken with interest from his own demeanour.

&
nbsp; How is it that you came into Felduror’s service, if I may ask?

  It was a long time ago, started the imp, and I barely remember how it had happened. I was a youngling then. All I remember is that I had never seen such an unfamiliar creature like the humans. Inside the northern forests of Grora, we had never felt fear before; Iprorims grow up learning that all creatures are not harmful to our race. The wolves and bears were not interested in our flesh but actually scared of our magical knowledge. We lived peacefully in our colony and never dreamed of leaving those lands. We felt protected, we felt safe. How could I have known how different mankind was? Greed for power and wealth made man a vicious creature that would go to any lengths in achieving its own petty goals.

  A growl issued from the dragon’s throat, dulling the strong current and the powerful flapping of his muscled wings. Was that disgruntlement, the imp considered briefly?

  The imp continued, When the wizard’s fellowship arrived, all of us gathered around, and no one knew what the odd creatures were, nor what their purpose was. Our curiosity and genuine lack of fear was our doom on that day. I remember staring at their clothes; a curious decoration that served, as I later came to understand, against the cold weather and also as a sign towards their rank and gender; pointed hats, sparkling gloves and robes, boots and bags fashioned from animal skins. What a horrid scheme, I thought, when many years later I learned how these were made. Nuuk paused, sickened by his own words. That is all I remember before waking up, being carried through the narrow corridors of the castle’s prisons and thrown into a small cell unable to use magic anymore. It was as if I never had the power to do so!

  That and, of course, the string around your wings, added Ghaeloden with some curiosity, and continued without allowing the imp’s reply. I never understood why the wizard needed the imps. Our mother and the king haven’t had much to impart of old times to us younglings. I only know from others that Iprorims were of utmost importance to his cause, and never understood why. It is not that you see imps all over the citadel of late. Honestly, I think you are the only one around the castle now!