Chapter 6
The following morning, they awoke to find Dar preparing a large breakfast of rabbit and freshly picked wild berries. When they finished devouring every last delicious morsel, they broke camp and set off down the trade road with Snowfeather flying high above, alert for any signs of danger.
Dar rode at the lead next to Damion atop the extra horse that they had confiscated from the goblins. As they rode, he told them of the centuries of fruitless searching that he had spent in the hopes of locating the Dragon Gem. Though Damion still didn't trust the tiny childlike sprite, he couldn't help but warm up to him a bit. The boy's calm, intelligent demeanor and cheerful outlook seemed to lighten the mood of their journey.
By mid-morning, storm clouds had begun to roll in, darkening the skies, and casting a depressing gloom over the land. It was soon raining a pounding rain that poured down from the skies in a violent torrent, soaking them to the bone. They relentlessly pressed on however, unwilling to let Mother Nature slow them down.
They made their way out of the mountains and down into the rolling foothills the following evening to find that many of the isolated farmsteads that dotted the trade road had been destroyed. They slowed to investigate one devastated sight with horrified expressions. There was little left standing of what had once been a substantial farm, and much of the wreckage that was left was still smoldering from the dragon’s flames. Dozens of charred and withered corpses lay scattered about, a silent testament to the carnage that had befallen the defenseless farmers.
The companions pushed on in silence, sickened by the gruesome scene, and continued following the trade road further into the foothills towards the city of Crete.
Once they had put several miles between themselves and the ruined farms, they began to look for a suitable place to set up camp for the night. They soon found a large grove of birch trees that was about a quarter mile off the road which would provide adequate shelter from the pounding rain. There was also a small natural spring at the edge of the grove that provided them with fresh water at which their weary mounts could quench their thirst.
Dar disappeared into the darkness of the foothills while the others were gathering firewood, but soon returned with three large pheasants draped over one shoulder. Kariah squealed with delight, then immediately set about stripping the birds of their feathers and preparing them to be roasted. After eating their fill, they stretched out near the fire, almost desperate for sleep, trusting Snowfeather's keen senses to warn them of any approaching danger.
Damion hadn't been asleep long when he was awakened by a gentle nudging. Opening one eye just a crack, he was startled to find Kariah curled up next to him, sleeping gently. His heart pounded wildly as he lay there, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest. A jumble of confusing emotions welled up inside of him as he gazed at the beautiful young elf maiden. He knew that he felt more for her than he had first realized, but all the new feelings still felt strange, almost alien to him. Whenever she was close, his stomach became a mass of fluttering butterflies, and when she had embraced him after battling the ogre, his heart had nearly leapt from his chest with joy. He continued to watch her as she slept, then eventually fell into a fitful sleep, tormented by dreams of fire spurting dragons, and lovely young elf maidens.
Late the next evening, after the rain had finally given way to clear skies, they crested a hill to see the large bustling town of Crete still standing, untouched by attack. They all sighed in relief, then quickly made their way into town.
As they were passing a substantial-looking inn, Dar reined in his horse. “I cannot accompany you to visit the dwarf. He would never speak to you if I were to be there.”
Damion nodded. “Why don’t you and Kariah get us some rooms, and Sly and I will pay a visit to this Dark Forger.”
Dar nodded. “Be careful of the dwarf. It’s said he is completely mad.”
Damion and Sly continued towards the center of town, asking the occasional passerby where to find the location of the dwarf’s smithy. After a bit of searching, they managed to locate the rundown forge, and quickly entered, eager to find out what the dwarf knew.
It was very dark inside of the rundown building, with only a few embers glowing in the remains of what was once a forge to light its interior. An ancient-looking dwarf sat nearby, his filthy hair and beard nearly obscuring his face completely.
“What do you want?” The ancient dwarf grumbled, his voice dry and dusty sounding.
“Are you the dwarven smith?” Sly asked, wrinkling his nose at the foul odor of the old shack.
The dwarf let out a bark of laughter. “That I am! Finest smith on the continent! Take a look around at my many wares, all of the finest crafting!” He gestured around to the rags and junk piled in heaps around the shop, and cackled insanely.
Damion and Sly exchanged glances.
“Wait!” The old dwarf exclaimed suddenly. He gestured to Damion. “Come closer. Let me see you. These old eyes are tired.”
Damion knelt down on one knee and leaned closer.
“Yes! Yes! You’re the one! I’ve been waiting for you!”
“What do you mean, you’ve been waiting for him?” Sly asked, eyeing the dwarf in disgust.
The old smith ignored Sly and continued to stare at Damion. “You’re here for the sword! The Dragon Sword!” He laughed again. “The Dragon Lord has come for the Dragon Sword!”
“Do you know where the sword is?” Damion asked, slightly unnerved by the strange old dwarf.
“Trolls! They hide, and they lie, and they steal!” The little dwarf stormed around the shack, gesturing wildly. “They lie, and they stink, and they steal! They steal my creation!”
“Trolls? They stole the sword from the sorcerer?”
“Filthy smelly trolls! Kill the sorcerer and bring back my creation! But they steal! They steal, and they hide, and they smell!”
“So you paid a troll to kill the sorcerer, and steal the Dragon Sword, but it took off with the sword instead?” Sly surmised.
“My creation!” Tears were flowing from the old dwarf’s eyes. He suddenly grasped Damion’s wrist in a vise-like grip. “But you’ll take it back, won’t you, Dragon Lord. You’ll destroy the smelly trolls, yes.”
Damion stared intently at the old dwarf. “Where did the troll take the sword?”
“The man with the scarred face asked me, too, but I told him it was lost! My sword! Lost! I never told him! I never did!”
“The man with a scarred face? Kaviel? That dog has been here?” Sly cursed vehemently.
“But you never told the scarred man where it was taken?”
“Never will he have my sword!” The filthy little dwarf shook his head. “Never!”
Damion’s gaze was still locked with the old smith's. “You know where it is, don’t you? You know where the troll took it, don’t you?”
“Back to its home. Back with the other smelly trolls. They hide, and they steal!” The old dwarf suddenly seemed to wilt, and slowly tottered over to his rickety old chair by the forge. “Search near the road to Misty Lake. Find the Dragon Sword, and remember me when you rule, Dragon Lord.” His head suddenly dropped to his chest, and he began to snore loudly.
Damion and Sly returned to the inn, and told Dar and Kariah of their encounter with the elderly dwarf.
"I told you that he was completely mad." Dar reminded them. "The loss of his most prized work probably sent him over the edge into madness."
"Do you really think we can believe what he said?" Kariah asked skeptically. "If he's completely mad, then how do we know he isn't just sending us off on some wild goose chase?"
Damion shook his head. "I don't think he would do that. He seemed quite emphatic that he had been waiting for me to visit him before revealing where the sword was located. He wants me to find it before anyone else does."
Sly sighed heavily. "So, what's the plan?"
"We head towards the Misty Lake and try to locate the troll that stole the Dragon Sword." Dami
on answered with a shrug. "It's the best lead we have in locating the sword."
They set off early the next morning after replenishing their dwindling supplies. There were an unusually large number of people traveling the trade route, far more than usual. Most appeared to be refugees fleeing the dragon’s wrath, and hoping to find someplace safe to hide.
It was late that evening when they finally set up camp a few hundred feet from the road. Snowfeather, who had disappeared into the darkness to hunt, appeared sometime later, landing with a soft rustle at Damion's side. “I visited the remains of another farm to the west.” He said silently. “There was little left standing. I saw no sign of any survivors.”
Damion cursed silently. “I hope I’m doing the right thing, searching for the sword instead of just hunting the dragon down and facing it head on. It’s a long shot, actually finding this sword. Who knows if the trolls even still have it.”
“Do not lose faith.” The huge owl chirped, fluffing its feathers. “We’ll find the sword, then we’ll be able to track down your father’s murderer.” His wise golden eyes shone brightly in the moonlight. “Just make sure you do not lose yourself in your quest for revenge, and allow your hate to consume you. If it does, you'll find yourself becoming what you despise.”
Damion laid back on his bedroll, considering his friend’s words, and finally fell into a fitful slumber. He awoke the next morning to once again find Kariah curled up next to him, sleeping soundly. Later, blushing fiercely with embarrassment, she explained that she had grown cold and moved closer to stay warm. He smiled inwardly. He rather enjoyed awaking to find her pressed tightly against him. The scent of her golden hair was intoxicating, and her every touch sent shivers up his spine. He found his attraction towards her growing ever stronger, but was very careful not to let it show.
After they had finished their breakfast, which had been once again caught, cleaned, and cooked by their new companion, Dar, they broke out one of Sly's many maps to decide their next move.
“This road will take us through the grasslands to the White River.” The little man said, pointing out the route to Damion. “The Deola are fierce warriors, but they shouldn’t cause us any problems. They are nomads, and spend most of their time following their herds. Once we reach the river, we'll have to cross the Mercidian Bridge and enter Mercedia. It is an entire city housed within an enormous fortress, and the only permanent settlement in the entire grasslands. Merchants from all over the world travel there to obtain leather, cattle, and horses. The tribesmen breed the finest horses and cattle in the world, and one of their stallions can go for a king's fortune, though they will rarely part with one of the beasts.” He pointed at a crude sketch of a bridge on the map. “This is the only place that we can cross the river, and the bridge leads directly into the city. The river is nearly five miles wide, and is far too deep to try and cross on horseback.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, though. We will have to stop in the city, anyway. We’ll need to replenish our supplies.”
“If the city is still standing.” Damion said grimly.
Sly snorted in amusement. “Mercedia is more than just a city inside of a fortress. It's enormous. It stands like a mountain in the middle of the empty grasslands. The Deola have been building and adding on to it for thousands of years. It would take an entire army of dragons to destroy it.”
Damion took some hope in this as they continued down the well-traveled road, and out into the vast open grasslands.
They rode on in silence, the scent of the charred remains of the devastated farmsteads still trailing them on the winds. They pulled off the road at sunset to set up camp, and Damion and Snowfeather immediately set off through the tall grass to hunt up something to eat.
Kariah was startled as he nonchalantly shifted into the form of a huge panther, but she quickly recovered, and seemed quite fascinated with his new form. She moved closer to stroke his soft fur, and he shivered at her touch, her sweet scent enveloping his senses.
He breathed in her scent deeply, then turned and disappeared into the tall grass with Snowfeather ghosting silently overhead. It wasn't long before they returned with a large boar and several fat hares to help bolster their dwindling supplies.
That night they decided to risk a fire, though they dug the fire pit extra deep in effort to keep it well concealed. Dar and Kariah immediately set about fixing their dinner, and they soon were resting near the fire, their bellies full. As they relaxed, they listened to Sly as he described the wonders of the Deolan city of Mercedia. Damion's eyes soon grew heavy as he listened, content in enjoying Kariah's closeness. She had wordlessly placed her bedroll next to his and settled herself against him, falling asleep almost instantly.
Dar and Sly were quietly talking, when Dar suddenly jumped to his feet, his eyes alert as he gazed into the darkness around them. He slowed scanned the area with unnaturally keen eyes, then began to sniff the air, almost as if he was attempting to taste something on the cool night breeze.
“What is it?” Damion asked, leaping to his feet and drawing his sword.
The boy didn't reply, but continued to peer into the gloom around them, his tiny body tense, and his face a mask of concentration. Finally, after several tense moments, he seemed to relax somewhat, and he turned to look at Damion. “Put your sword away slowly. We are in no danger, but our visitors can be a little jumpy.”
Damion gave Dar a confused look, but did as he was told after casting Sly a quick look. The little man continued to lounge in his bedroll looking rather amused. Damion put his trust into their new companion's instincts, and sheathed his sword, though he still remained on the alert for trouble. He stared quietly into the darkness around them and was surprised to see six savage-looking tribesmen mounted on enormous warhorses materialize out of the darkness like ghosts. The huge stallions moved in complete silence, their hooves hardly seeming to touch the ground at all as they approached.
The tribesmen were all very tall, lean, and muscular, and were dressed in black leather pants, with their chests bare. Their long dark hair had been braided into elaborate braids, and their deep bronze skin was engraved with strange, intricate tattoos that added greatly to their savage appearance. They were armed with long broad-bladed spears and cruel-looking swords with serrated edges, but made no threatening movements. They reined their monstrous warhorses to a stop at the edge of the fire light, and watched the companions with wide questioning eyes.
“The Deola are a very traditional people.” Dar murmured as the tribesmen surveyed them in silence. “They will not enter our camp unless they have been invited.” He gave Damion a meaningful look. “And it is considered a great insult if an invitation is not extended.”
Damion cast Sly another glance. The little man continued to lounge on his bedroll lazily, but his eyes were wary. Damion stepped forward and gazed at the warriors, who watched him with great interest. “Welcome friends,” He said in a calm tone. “Would you care to warm yourselves by the fire?”
The tribesmen continued to stare at his enormous size and strange brow scales for several moments, then the leader, a thickly-muscled brute who was nearly as large as Damion, dismounted his shaggy mount and slowly approached, looking over each companion carefully.
Dar stepped forward and bowed respectfully. “Greetings, Warrior of the Deola. We are honored by your visit.”
The tribesman said nothing, but turned his assessing stare upon Damion.
Damion returned his gaze unflinchingly, still ready to react to any aggression.
Finally, the tribesmen tore his gaze away, and stared down at Dar. He returned the boy's respectful bow, moving with a measured grace that seemed out of place on such a savage-looking warrior. “I am called Bativa, chieftain of the northern Avonte tribes.” He glanced at Damion, then at Sly, who continued to lounge in his bedroll. “I bring you a warning. A beast has been terrorizing this land, destroying everything it encounters. It threatens all who pass through these grasslands.”
Da
mion stepped forward eagerly. “You have seen the dragon?”
Bativa nodded. “It has been attacking our camps for several months now, killing our people and devouring our herds. And hundreds of foul creatures have ventured out of the mountains and down into the plains to join in the destruction. The goblins and dragonspawn have joined forces, and have been causing much mayhem. The grasslands are not a safe place to journey through as of late. That is why we bring you this warning.” He gestured to their fire. “The dragon is attracted to fire, and even a small, well sheltered fire such as this can be seen for miles. If the beast sees it, it will drop from the sky without warning and attack, and it rarely leaves anyone alive to tell the tale. You should extinguish it immediately.”
“We thank you for the warning.” Dar said, bowing to the warrior in appreciation. “We shall be more careful in the future.” He quickly began extinguishing their campfire by filling the fire pit with dirt.
“Wait!” Damion exclaimed. “We’re trying to find the dragon, remember? The fire may bring it to us!”
“You wish to face the dragon?” Bativa asked in disbelief. “Are you mad? Do you have a death wish?” His eyes narrowed, and he looked at Damion closely. “Who are you? Why do you hunt the dragon? Do you think you could actually stop it?”
“If anyone can stop that beast, it's Damion.” Sly murmured quietly.
Damion glanced at Sly, who continued to lounge in his bedroll unconcerned, then back to the warrior. “I’m Damion Omensent, son of Lord Michael Steelheart, Lord and Protector of Sevria. My lazy friend over there,” He gestured to Sly. “Is Gabriel Quickhand, master swordsman. The small one there,” He pointed to Dar, who stood next to the remains of their fire. “is Dar of the Alena, and the sleeping girl there is Kariah, an elf maiden that survived the destruction of Sevria.”
Bativa's face was grim. “So Sevria has also been destroyed.” He shook his head sadly. “I knew that others were suffering the dragon's wrath, but I had hoped those dwelling in the mountains had managed to avoid its fury.”
“Many of the farms along the trade road have also been destroyed.” Sly added. “We spoke with a few survivors that somehow managed to escape. They said the dragon appeared from the south, and there were rumors that it may have a lair somewhere in the Endless Forest.”
“What about Mercedia?” Damion asked curiously. “Does it still stand?”
Bativa laughed a deep booming laugh. “Mercedia fall? It would take a hundred dragons a hundred years to destroy Mercedia!” His chest swelled with pride. “My people have been building Mercedia for thousands of years. Its outer walls are seventy-five feet thick. They can withstand almost anything!” He glanced over to Kariah who had sat up, awakened by their voices.
She rubbed her eyes sleepily, then gasped as she spotted Bativa and the mounted tribesmen. With a squeal of fright, she scrambled to her feet and ran to Damion for protection.
“Do not fear.” Bativa assured to the young elf maiden. “We mean you no harm. We are friends.”
The young girl didn't seem reassured by this statement, and edged even closer to Damion, draping his arm around her shoulder for protection.
Damion was rather surprised by her reaction, but after a moment, decided he rather liked having her tiny form pressed next to his. He pulled her closer, and felt her tremble as she stared at the fierce-looking warriors.
Bativa smiled at Kariah understandingly, then turned his attention back to Damion. “So, you plan to find the dragon's lair and destroy the beast?”
“No!” Dar stated firmly, stepping forward. “Nothing that has happened is the dragon's fault! It hasn't any control over its actions! It's being forced to cause all of this destruction!”
The tribesman stared at Dar in disbelief. “Who could have such power that they can control a dragon?”
“The scoundrel's name is Kaviel.” Sly grunted sourly. “He has somehow come into possession of a very powerful magical stone called the Dragon Gem. It controls the dragon, and forces it to obey his commands.”
“By the gods!” Bativa exclaimed. “Why would someone want to cause such destruction, and kill so many innocent people? Is he mad?”
Sly nodded. “Quite mad. He's capable of anything. He appears to be searching for a sword that was forged to unlock the Dragon Gem's full power. If he's able to find that sword, nothing will be able to stop him. We are trying to find the sword before he does, otherwise, all is lost.”
“Where is this sword he is searching for?”
The little man shrugged. “No one knows. It was lost centuries ago. It was said to be stolen by a troll.”
“A troll, you say? You should search near the Misty Lakes, then.” The chieftain advised knowingly. “The hills surrounding the lake are infested with troll clans. They like to ambush travelers along the trade road. They’re a constant nuisance.”
The sudden ruffle of feathers drew everyone’s attention to Snowfeather, who glided in from the darkness to settle on Damion's shoulder. “I see we have visitors.” Snowfeather squawked, eyeing the Deola, who stared at the ghostly owl with open astonishment. “Rather savage-looking, aren't they?”
Damion ignored him. “Where have you been?”
“I spotted a large party of goblins moving this way. There about twenty of them. They look as though they've been looting the ruins of a nearby farm. They're less than a mile from here, but don't seem to know of our presence, yet.”
Damion quickly turned to Sly. “It looks as though we have more company. Twenty or so goblins, less than a mile from here.”
“How do you know this?” The huge tribesman stared at Damion curiously.
“Snowfeather told me” He gestured to the graceful bird with a nod of his head.
“You can speak with the birds?” Bativa’s eyes were wide, and he stared at Damion with a new-found respect. “That’s a truly remarkable talent!”
“So, what is the plan?” Sly asked curiously. “Do we remain hidden, or are you planning on confronting them?”
Damion grinned at him viciously, then drew his sword.
The little man sighed, shaking his head wearily. “I figured as much.” He slowly pulled himself up from his bedroll and drew his sword, then glanced at the tribesman. “Care to join in the festivities?”
Bativa laughed a great booming laugh. “An excellent suggestion! It would give me the opportunity to see this remarkable young warrior in action! His skills must be formidable if he thinks he can contend with a dragon!”
“The Deola measure a man by his prowess in battle.” Dar explained to the others. “The strongest, most skilled warrior of the tribe becomes clan-chief. It’s been the way of the Deola for centuries. The strong lead, the weak follow.”
Bativa ordered two of his warriors to remain behind and guard the camp and horses, then he and the other three tribesmen followed behind Damion and Sly as they stealthily disappeared into the waist high grass.
They noiselessly made their way towards the goblins with Snowfeather gliding overhead, guiding Damion from above. The goblins could soon be heard, grunting and snorting in their crude language as the stumped along. They traveled through the tall grass in a disorderly mob, apparently unworried about attracting any attention. Many of the foul-smelling creatures carried heavy sacks of plunder pillaged from the ruins of the ravaged farm. They continued to plod along unconcerned, unaware that the companions were lurking in the darkness nearby.
Damion silently gestured for everyone to split apart and surround the creatures in order to attack from all directions and add to the confusion, then he and Bativa silently crept forward, moving noiselessly through the swaying grass. They waited a few moments to allow everyone to get into position, then burst from the darkness and fell upon the surprised goblins, their swords whistling through the darkness. Fully half of the creatures lay dead or dying within the first few moments of the fight. Those who still lived struggled to free themselves of their stolen treasures, and draw their weapons.
Damion's sword whistled through the air, moving faster than the eye could follow. He easily dispatched two of the creatures as they struggled to draw their crude swords, then removed the head from a third, sending it flying off into the darkness. Two more fell beneath his singing blade before he turned to check on his companions. He immediately saw Bativa battling two of the foul-smelling creatures, unaware of the third that had crept up from behind, poised to deliver a killing blow. “Behind you!” He bellowed, drawing his magic in an instant. A fist-sized ball of fire erupted from his left hand and streaked through the night, striking the goblin full in the chest. It stared down stupidly at the gaping hole that had appeared over its heart for several moments, before finally crashing face down to the ground where it lay twitching.
The Deolan clan-chief quickly cut down the other two goblins, then turned and gave Damion a shocked look. “A sorcerer?”
As quick as it had started, the fight was over, and the goblins lay dead at their feet. Only one of the Deolan warriors was injured during the melee, suffering a deep gash across one shoulder. His fellow tribesmen quickly tended to his wound, then gathered the loot the goblins had plundered from the ruins of the farmsteads, and followed the others back to camp.
Bativa clapped Damion on the shoulder as they waded through the tall grass, his face still excited from the fight. “You are quite skilled! I am impressed! I have never seen anyone fight with such ferociousness!” He laughed a great booming laugh. “And a sorcerer, as well! You are quite a talented young fellow!”
Damion smiled at the tribesman's praise, but said nothing.
When they arrived back at the camp, they were immediately greeted by Kariah, who flew into Damion’s arms, nearly knocking him from his feet. “Don’t ever leave me alone like that again!” She scolded him, her arms in a vise-like grip around his neck. “I don't like the way those warriors are looking at me!”
The two tribesmen who had stayed behind to guard the camp burst out laughing, clearly overhearing her words. They spoke together quietly for a moment, then began to laugh even harder as they wandered off to tend to their horses.
The young elf maiden suddenly looked outraged by their laughter, but continued to cling to Damion tightly.
Omensent: Birth of a Dragon Lord Page 20