The Quest For the Black Dragon

by D.E. Dunlop

  “What?” Ren sounded confused.

  “Your friend. What’s his name?”

  “Tinne.”

  “Yeah, Tinne. You have to go back for him. He’ll never escape on his own.” The bartender argued.

  “I escaped.” Ren said.

  “Only because she was preoccupied with him. You have to go back.” The man said and turned to serve another patron.

  Ren sat and stared at the bar. He thought about his friend. He thought about their past. He shuddered when his mind tried to go into the recent past. He thought about Ezbieta and how he longed to be with her. The idea of her being with another drove him crazy and he just couldn’t handle it. He knew it was just a lie to undermine his loyalty, but he just couldn’t shake it. When he finished his dinner the bartender told him it was taken care of and provided him with a room.

  Ezbieta laid her face against the man’s shoulder. Her tears dripped onto the Sittyan insignia on his uniform. She smiled as he comforted her.

  Ren sat bolt upright with sweat running down his face. The room was quite dark with the exception of the moonlight glowing in the night. The sky was clear and the light was reflecting off the snow of the fields and casting a slightly blue tint onto the window frame. Far off into the distance he could see a darker spot where the Forest of Sirens began. He shuddered and lay down once again. He pulled the blankets up over his head and curled into them.

  “Just a dream.” He muttered. The image he had seen in the birdbath would not leave him in peace. His head and chest ached with anxiety. What if it were true? What if he had lost her to a Sitt?

  “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” He grumbled at himself as he tossed about. The thought was more than he could bear.

  As the sun rose above the horizon and flooded the room with its warm light Ren complained to himself that he had certainly not slept a minute all night. It had been this way since the day he arrived. When that day was he could not recall. He had shut himself up in the room the innkeeper had given him and had not spoken to anyone but himself the whole time. Once in a while there would be a knock on the door, but Ren refused to answer. He would wait and when he finally opened there would be some sort of meal on a stand. The innkeeper never bothered him about tabs or any of that. He seemed obliged to take care of him this way because he had survived the dreaded forest.

  The only other thought that would penetrate his consciousness was that of Tinne standing beside Shayla with his sword drawn, staring at Ren. Shayla stood with a slight grin that Tinne could not see because her hair was hanging down on that side of her face. Oh, he hated her; with a passion that felt like a fever. “What a stupid ass!” He would shout at nothing. “I told him not to go there. I told him she was bad news. Stupid ass!” He ranted. “It’s his own damned fault. I warned him, didn’t I? Serves him right.”

  He threw himself into the armchair in the corner and rolled his last cigarette. He tossed it, unlit on the small table and stared out the window at the clouds sailing in the clear blue sky. At length he lit the cigarette and stared blankly at the floor.

  “Tinne. Hey Tinne, I know you feel responsible to see her home, but I think she’s leading us into the Forest of Sirens.” Ren slapped Tinne’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Schmuck. Listen to me. We can’t go any further down this road.”

  Tinne looked at Ren with a slightly irate look. “What are you talking about?”

  “The Forest of Sirens. Haven’t you ever heard of it?”

  “No. I haven’t.”

  Shayla rode ahead of them about seven or eight metres. She was singing a smooth almost melancholic tune, which neither of the men with her could make out nor even recognize when they did hear the words. “Hold on to yourself. This is gonna hurt like hell.” She smiled softly to herself beneath her oversized pale yellow hood.

  Ren looked at Tinne unbelieving. “It’s right up there with the Holland Marsh and the Minesing Swamp. How could you not have heard of it?” Tinne stared at his friend with a look that asked, so what? He shook his head slightly.

  “It’s possessed of all sorts of evil spirits. Men don’t come out. They’re lured in to their own demise.” Ren explained.

  “Who said if no one ever came out?”

  “The friends who didn’t go in, obviously.”

  “That’s just superstitious nonsense. You’re trying to freak me out so I’ll turn around and get home sooner. It’s our fault the Sitts were in the area. We have to make sure she isn’t harmed by any of them. At least as far as her home.”

  Shayla stared at Ren from beneath her long dark lashes with a sinister smile. “Perhaps she will join me here with my sisters in our garden of delight.”

  Ren sat up with a start. His hair stuck to the dripping sweat on his face. He could still hear her voice lingering in the dark. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her.”

  He grunted angrily and rolled over into the pile of blankets. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning.” He muttered.

  Ren laughed boisterously. “That was close. You’re getting really good with that sword.” He said to Tinne as he parried another attack. They were at his father’s training academy and it looked a lot like it had when they were children. Tinne looked a lot like he did when they were kids too, he thought to himself. Weird. He was having too much fun to let it bother him though. How he missed the carefree days of childhood; nothing to do but explore the forest and practice sword fighting with his best friend. He winced as Tinne’s wooden sword struck him on the side of his head. He wasn’t sure, however, if he had actually felt anything. “Nice one!” He encouraged, but ducked when he saw a glint of steel coming at him. He looked up into Tinne’s angry bearded face and knew there could be no winner this time. He drew his second sword just in time to catch Tinne’s blade between his two as he brought it down at his head. They strained against each other and Ren woke, once again, with a start.

  The sun was barely over the horizon when Ren backed slowly out of his room and closed the door quietly. He turned around and found himself face to face with the innkeeper and another young man about his own age.

  “This is Stephen. He’s going with you.” He said.

  Ren looked at the round man inquisitively.

  “From the moment I saw you I knew you were a real man and a real man doesn’t leave his friend to such a cruel fate as the Forest of Sirens, even if it is his own doing.” He smacked Ren in the chest with the back of his giant hand and nodded at him.

  Stephen smiled and reached to shake Ren’s hand. “Pleased to be of service.” He said. He was a powerful man with short brown hair and a big smile.

  “I can’t take him in that forest. Isn’t it bad enough there’s one man in there?” Ren said to the bartender.

  “If you go in there alone you will not come out again. Two of you will be able to keep each other in check and on track.”

  Ren agreed reluctantly, shaking his head. “Why do you want to help me so much?” He asked.

  “Mono Mills has been haunted by the Forest of Sirens for almost as long as it’s been around. Almost every generation for nearly a thousand years has lost a young man to the phantom harlots. Those who are left are often distracted by the provocative and alluring sounds on the wind. Even my own son, God rest his soul, was lost. Less than a week from his nineteenth birthday he wandered into the wood and never returned.” The bartender explained.

  “Stephen here is my nephew and has volunteered to assist in bringing down the witch.”

  “I didn’t say I would fight the witch. I’m just going to knock my friend over the head and drag him out of there.” Ren said.

  “If you’re going to break the spell she has over him you’re going to have to defeat her. Any who have been brought out alive only return later.” Stephen said.

  “I suppose you have a way to defeat her, then?” Ren asked hopefully.

&nb
sp; “Well, no.” They said sheepishly.

  “If we did, don’t you think we would have done it?” The bartender added. “Come, we must prepare. You tell Stephen what you know of this Shayla over breakfast and I will gather you some gear.” He instructed and led the two young men to the kitchen.

  “But how will we defeat her?” Ren protested.

  The other two both shrugged at him and continued on to the kitchen.

  “Great.” Ren complained. “Off to fight the wickedest witch that ever there was and no frickin idea how to do it. Unless…” He recalled his conversation with Shayla in the garden of sirens. “The one thing both are not willing to share.” He had an idea. “It was staring me in the face the whole time! I’m so stupid.”

  “What?” Stephen asked with curiosity.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Ren said. “I’ll tell you when you need to know.”

  A number of hours later they were ready to head out. Their horses and gear were set and waiting.

  “Stephen.” Ren said, grabbing him by the sleeve. Have you got any tobacco? I’m dying.”

  “I don’t, but you can get some inside.” He answered.

  Ren ran in to the tavern like his pants were on fire and returned with a smile.

  “Tailor-mades.” He said and sparked one up.

  They headed up over the hill and off toward the Forest of Sirens. At the outer edge of the forest they stopped. They looked at each other with concern.

  “I guess this is it.” Stephen said.

  “Whatever happens in there, don’t believe anything you hear or see. Stay focussed and whatever you do, don’t think about women.” Ren cautioned.

  Stephen swallowed hard and they ventured into the wood somewhat hesitantly.

  “Might as well tell me not to breathe.” Stephen muttered to himself.

  The fear set into Stephen almost immediately. Once the outer edge of the forest was indiscernible he began looking back. Every hundred metres or so he would turn around and try to calculate how far in they had travelled.

  “What am I doing here?” He whispered to himself. “It’s not my friend in there. Ren turned his horse around and stopped to watch Stephen watch the edge of safety disappear. When Stephen turned around Ren was waiting with his chin on his horse’s head staring at him.

  “Shall we go back now?” Ren asked with a slight tone of disappointment.

  Stephen shook himself all over. “No. I can do this.”

  “Alright, then.” Ren said. “Stop looking back.” He turned around in such a way that his horse turned around before he did.

  “Did you hear that?” Stephen whispered a short time later.

  “Remember what I said about the things you will hear. Ignore them.” Ren replied.

  “But…”

  “Ignore it.”

  The sky was cold and grey and the bare trees rocked in the wind. The sirens sang and cried and laughed all the while the two men traversed. They hunched themselves over against the cold and only allowed themselves to look straight ahead. When the sky grew dark they decided to pitch camp. They were careful not to let each other out of sight as they gathered wood for a fire. They pitched one large tent so each could ensure the other wouldn’t go out in the night.

  The first night was restless for both. Stephen dreamt he was being hunted and chased by strange, beautiful women. Some had extra heads, limbs and various parts, while others were lacking the same. Some of them were part wolf or cat or other wild creature.

  Ren dreamt of his father’s last days as usual and he also dreamt of Ezbieta who was being chased by an odd shimmering light. She couldn’t see the one who chased her but she could feel it. She was crying and then a man, a Sittyan soldier, held her roughly. At first she fought to get away but soon gave in and rested in his arms.

  In the morning the sky was still grey. They ate quickly and started off again. Somewhere around midday they came to what they thought was the edge of Shayla’s meadow, but much to their dismay, they had actually found their way back to the outer rim of the forest. They looked around and gauged the landscape for a while before Stephen finally recognized where he was.

  “Mono Mills is that way. About two hours.” He said pointing off to his left.

  “Damn it!” Ren cursed. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do.” He said after lighting a smoke. “We’ll focus on the sounds. Perhaps they get louder as we get closer. If we can get to the sirens I can find the way to Shayla.”

  “I thought you knew the way.”

  “No I was just trying to get out alive. Your uncle was right though. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

  “Let’s do it, then.” Stephen agreed and they headed back in.

  The task wasn’t nearly as easy as they had thought it would be. They were correct in assuming the sirens would sound louder when they got closer to the statues, but whenever they thought they were about to see them the sounds would stop. They would be left under the cold grey sky wondering where they were and every tree looked the same as the next. The first couple of times they backtracked to see if they had simply wandered out of range, but each time it began to snow heavily and their tracks were covered.

  This problem persisted for several days leaving them bewildered and flustered. On one such occasion Ren’s eyes were finally rewarded for their hard work. They found a woman crying behind a large beech tree. His ears perked up as they recognized the voice.

  “Ezbieta!” He called running to her.

  She stood to embrace him with a relieved smile, but an arrow viciously pierced her heart and she fell dead before him. He ran to her, screaming with horror and cradled her in his arms. His eyes looked on her assassin and went red with rage. Stephen, his bow in hand, had a look of shock on his face as well. He backed away in fear as Ren advanced with his sword drawn. Stephen was yelling something at Ren, but he couldn’t hear what. He screamed louder as Ren began to swing his sword wildly. Fortunately Stephen was able to dodge his enraged companion and the sword wedged itself in the crotch of a young birch. Stephen quickly grabbed Ren’s sword arm around the tree and slapped his face severely. After a few slaps Ren was able to hear what Stephen was yelling.

  “It’s a wolf!” Came clearly from Stephen’s lips and Ren turned slowly to verify. He fell to his knees and fought hard not to vomit. Lying in place of his beloved Ezbieta was a large timber wolf with an arrow in its heart.

  “I am sorry, Stephen.” He muttered through coughs and gasps. “I could have sworn you just murdered my Bee.”

  “It’s obvious the magic here is greater than we would have thought.” Stephen replied. “Are you all right?”

  “I will be. You?”

  Stephen nodded.

  Ren pulled his Tailor-mades out of an inside pocket. His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t light one.

  “Here, let me get that.” Stephen offered.

  “Thanks.” Ren said as he took it back. “You want one?”

  “No. I’m good thanks.”

  They decided it would be a good idea to camp for the rest of the day. They built a fire and tried to focus on anything but the previous events of that day. Ren couldn’t help but to occasionally wonder how Tinne was holding up. Is it too late? Has she broken him down? He hoped his friend had not fully succumbed to the witches spell.

  All through the night they dreamt disturbing dreams. Their sleep, again, was very restless. They may as well have stayed awake. Such were the days and nights in the Forest of Sirens. Tormented by dreams at night and seduced by beautiful fiends at day.

  Early one morning Ren awoke to find Stephen was not there. He followed his tracks down a small winding path. He suddenly recognized where he was and began to run down the path calling after Stephen. When he finally caught up to him he was chasing a woman in summer attire. She would pretend to flee, but allow him to catch her briefly. She giggled with gle
e all the while.

  “Stephen, look out!” Ren screamed, but it was too late. The two lovebirds vanished over the top of the bluff. He ran to the edge but couldn’t see anything below. Only the tops of the trees were visible for the low-lying fog.

  “Damn it!” He cursed under his breath. “There’s no way a man survives that fall. What will I tell his uncle?” He shook his head mournfully and leaned against a tree.

  “So close.” He looked out toward the meadow. He could scarcely see the old brick house through a break in the fog. “Do or die.” He thought to himself.

  Shayla walked gracefully amongst the sirens, caressing them as she passed, dressed only in her terrycloth robe. She had just come from the pond and her early morning swim. An early spring thaw was causing mist to rise from the, now ankle deep, snow. Shayla walked about, singing, oblivious to Ren hiding behind one of the statues.

  “Sheila.” He called from behind her.

  She stopped and paused before turning around with a slight smile. “You’re back.” She said.

  “I guess you were right. I can’t resist you any longer.” He responded, stepping closer to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder for a couple of minutes, embracing him completely.

  “I’ve missed you.” She said.

  Ren’s heart, pounded with fear and uncertainty. He considered his Ezbieta and how she would respond to such behaviour. He knew she would not accept it and he would be yesterday’s news in a heartbeat. “She will understand. I have to. There’s no other way.” He thought to himself. Shayla’s robe opened very slightly as he slipped his hands around her waist. She gasped slightly at the shock of his cold hand on her belly and then made a slight “hmm” sound and nestled closer. She lifted her head to kiss his neck and then she stepped back gasping an ecstatic gasp with a look that was a mixture of anger, ecstasy, shock and relief. “Surprise, you’re dead.” He whispered to her.