However, a nagging fear still echoed in the back of her mind. Why was her father telling her all of this now? Did it have anything to do with the rumbling coming from Firestorm Mountain? Just the thought of that possibility put her nerves on edge. The rumblings from the mountain, her fledgling abilities, which she still had a hard time controlling, the enigmatic occurrence at the Sylvar Stone earlier, and now her father telling her more about the ancient family history; all this was too much of a coincidence. Lynol could feel her stomach fluttering in nervous anticipation and fear; something about all of this just didn’t seem right.
Taking a deep breath and staring at the distant darkness shrouded mountain through the large window, Damon continued in a shaky, tired voice. He felt much older than he had moments before. “Malcon Sylvar had long practiced the ancient arts. Up until Malcon’s time, there had always been a powerful sorcerer or sorceress in the Sylvar family in each generation. The family history can be traced back to the sorcerers of the half-mystical Golden Age itself.”
“The Golden Age,” murmured Lynol, wishing she knew more about those fabulous, legendary times.
“Malcon had learned many things long since forgotten,” her father continued. “For years he had been searching for a way to destroy Gilmreth and stop the sacrifices by piecing together scattered scraps of knowledge from ancient ruins and the occasional book or scroll he found in his vengeful quest. He had a personal hatred of the dragon because Gilmreth had killed Malcon’s only daughter, Lys Sylvar, in one of its unrestrained rages of destruction.”
“His daughter!” Lynol gasped, her face turning pale, surprised and shocked at the revelation. She looked at her father, astonished. “Malcon Sylvar had a daughter? I have never heard this before. How did it happen, how did she die, was she sacrificed?” she asked, the questions rapidly rolling out. She felt a stir of agitation and anticipation prickling the back of her neck as she waited for him to answer. She was beginning to realize just how much she didn’t know.
“No virgins were at the sacrificial altar to appease Gilmreth’s hunger when he came forth from his lair,” spoke Damon, recalling the story as his father had told it to him. “The girls who had been chosen for the sacrifice escaped. They ran away to save their own lives. It was rumored that one of the girls’ fathers had followed the village elders, who were in charge of the sacrifices, and freed the girls once the elders left. When the elders found out what had happened, it was too late. Gilmreth awoke before others could be chosen to replace the missing girls. He flew to the sacrificial rock, looking for his victims. Finding no one, he exploded into a fit of destructive rage, terrorizing the countryside seeking suitable victims to satisfy his burning hunger.”
“What happened?” Lynol asked, almost afraid of what the answer would be. “Did Malcon try to stop the dragon?”
Damon looked out the window past the garden where the waiting Sylvar Stone stood guard among the ancient stone ruins, beckoning in the spreading twilight, almost invisible in the deepening darkness. In his mind, he pictured the dragon sweeping over the countryside, its poisonous fiery breath burning farmsteads, killing livestock, and setting the landscape afire. The carnage and destruction Gilmreth spread in his wake was well documented in the secret family histories. Gilmreth was mankind’s worst nightmare come to life.
“How was his daughter killed?” Lynol pressed her curiosity and interest piqued by her father’s revelations.
“The stones behind the garden are all that remain from Malcon’s home when the dragon struck late one night,” Damon spoke, his eyes taking on a distant, haunted look. “Malcon was gone, traveling to a distant land in search of forgotten knowledge. He believed the family home was secure from the dragon, being made of heavy stone and protected by his sorcery. A specially woven spell set a protective ward around his home, making it invisible to Gilmreth.”
“Then it was Malcon’s home that the stones came from!” Lynol exclaimed excitedly, regarding her father with astonishment at this revelation. At last, she had learned the mysterious secret of the stone ruins. The sheer number of stones suggested that Malcon’s home must have been resplendent; a literal castle. “Those stones are the remains of his home?”
Nodding, Damon continued. “Yes, it was a small stone castle built of heavy stone with a single tower rising protectively from the east wall. Lys was home with several other family members when the dragon attacked Galvin.”
“Galvin? The dragon attacked Galvin?” Lynol spoke, surprised and stunned at the revelation. She was beginning to think she didn’t know anything. Every word her father spoke made her feel even more insecure about her future.
“Yes,” replied Damon, picturing the rampant horror of the villagers as the dragon swept in, with massive wings beating the air above the village, burning homes with his deadly breath, and forcing people to flee in terror for their very lives.
That night must have been fearsome, Gilmreth's talons tearing the very walls apart in his search for helpless victims to feed his raging hunger. The dragon would have been unstoppable and utterly deadly to the inhabitants.
“Lys attempted to use what she knew of her father’s powers to distract Gilmreth away from the village,” Damon continued. “She had many friends living there, and the thought of their imminent deaths was more than she could bear. Malcon’s brother Glaycon tried to stop her, warning her repeatedly how powerful Gilmreth was.”
“Was Glaycon a powerful sorcerer also?” Lynol asked.
“He had only rudimentary sorcery powers and couldn’t prevail against her,” responded Damon, recalling the story as his father had told it to him. “Lys instructed Glaycon and everyone else to leave the castle since Gilmreth would soon arrive. She warned everyone of what she intended to do. Glaycon pleaded and tried to reason with Lys, but to no avail. She had always believed she and her father should have taken a more active role against the dragon. She knew that her use of sorcery would shatter the protective spell surrounding their home and wanted everyone safely away when that happened. Glaycon took Malcon’s young son, Tirol, and fled with several other family members and servants.”
“So they left Lys alone to face the dragon?” whispered Lynol, gazing at her father with eyes wide. “Why didn’t Tirol stay? Surely his powers could have helped her.” She tried to picture Lys alone in the castle preparing to use her sorcery against Gilmreth. What had been running through her mind in those last few moments before she accosted the dragon?
“Tirol had none of his father’s abilities, his uncle only wanted to get him to safety. He realized the futility of what Lys was proposing, but couldn’t sway her,” her father replied. “They had no choice but to leave. To stay was certain death!”
“She was doing it to save her friends,” Lynol spoke in understanding.
Damon paused, looking at Lynol. “Tirol begged his sister not to do this dangerous thing, but she was adamant in her resolve. Lys believed she could save the villagers. Her powers had grown to the point that they might eventually surpass even Malcon’s abilities.”
“She was brave enough to face Gilmreth alone,” Lynol said slowly. She tried to imagine the fortitude and resolve it would have taken to do such a thing.
“Lys had begged her father for several years to allow them to use their sorcery against Gilmreth,” her father continued. “However, Malcon refused, saying the dragon was too powerful, that they had to wait until he knew they could defeat Gilmreth.”
She had always thought that Malcon was the most powerful sorcerer ever. Lys had never been mentioned.
Lynol closed her eyes as she listened to her father and a strange feeling came over her. When she opened them, she was in a different time and world.
-
Lys stood upon the upper stone battlements of the small tower of the Sylvar family home looking toward the east. A windless stillness surrounded the tower and filled the land around the Sylvar home. The last sunlight had long since vanished, and darkness ruled the countryside. In the distance,
she could see fire, and if she tried hard enough, she thought she could hear the screams and panicked voices of the people of Galvin.
She hesitated; she knew she was about to break a promise she had made to her father never to use her powers against the dragon, but what choice did she have? If she did nothing and let her friends die, she would never be able to forgive herself. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the powerful amulet that rested on its golden chain protectively beneath her blouse.
As soon as she clasped the amulet, she became bathed in a bright white light as brilliant as the afternoon sun. Concentrating, she began tracing a pattern in the air and speaking the powerful words she needed. She knew exactly which spell she wanted to enact. It was the only one that might have a chance against Gilmreth.
A cold chill wind began to blow. Clouds swirled above Firestorm Mountain and then took on a darker, more menacing look. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared as the newly created storm marched down the slopes of the mountain, still building in intensity.
Closing her eyes, Lys willed herself to become the storm. Reaching out her mind, she found Gilmreth circling above Galvin. Deadly dragon fire was erupting from the dragon’s mouth, burning the structures and fields below the dragon. Lys reached out and touched the dragon with her finger. In answer, a massive blue-white lightning bolt split the night sky, slamming into the dragon’s back. Thunder roared and echoed across the countryside.
Gilmreth screamed in rage and beat his wings faster, turning to look where the attack had come from. Giant hailstones and tornadic strength winds began to pummel the dragon, nearly driving him into the earth below. In the distance, Gilmreth could sense a power, one such as he had not sensed in many long centuries, like a brilliant beacon in his mind. In anger, the dragon beat his wings even harder, driving himself against the wind and the hail toward that source of power.
Lys struck the dragon again and again with her lightning bolts as she now had full control of the massive storm. Her breath was the wind, her fingers the lightning, and her voice the thunder. The thunder roared, and heavy rain began to come down in sheets rapidly putting the fires out in and around Galvin. Opening her eyes, she gazed up through the pummeling rain at the dragon. Gilmreth was steadily coming closer.
As the dragon approached, Lys continued to hurl enormous blue-white lightning bolts at Gilmreth, staggering the dragon and lighting up the countryside for miles around with dazzling light. Thunder rolled across the land. For the first time, Lys had a clear view of the dragon. She shuddered at the sight. Gilmreth was as fearsome as her father had told her. The dragon’s eyes seemed to glow red, and his massive body was dark and deadly. She tapped the energy in the storm and sent another massive lightning bolt at the dragon, hoping to drive him back to his lair inside Firestorm Mountain.
For the first time in his long life, Gilmreth felt real pain. The dragon’s anger and rage grew each time a lightning bolt struck him. He continued toward his tormentor and the enticing power he sensed.
Again and again, Lys flung bolts of tremendous lightning at the approaching dragon, trying to slay or drive off the fearsome creature. The powerful winds and massive hailstones continuously assailed the dragon with every beat of his wings. Her amulet grew ever brighter, and the radiance surrounding her became dazzling. The entire Sylvar home was now covered in a brilliant white light.
Gilmreth looked down at the human below him who dared to challenge his power. An angry jet of red dragon fire struck his attacker, only to be deflected harmlessly away. A huge bolt of lightning struck Gilmreth in the chest, singing and burning the dragon. The dragon screamed in pain and sent forth another stream of fire, only to see it once more deflected away.
I’ve hurt the dragon, Lys thought, hearing Gilmreth’s scream of pain. If only father was here, we could slay Gilmreth together! She realized the dragon was too powerful for her to kill. She had thrown the most powerful lightning bolts she could muster from the storm at the dragon, but Gilmreth was still coming toward her. I have to drive him away, force him back to his lair! It’s the only way to save Galvin!
With renewed effort, she tapped her amulet and drew upon its power. Her father had always warned her against doing this. He said it was too dangerous. A massive blue-white bolt of energy shot forth from the amulet, striking Gilmreth and driving him forcefully into the ground. The dragon struck the earth with a resounding crash and roar of anger and pain. Lightning bolts poured down from the heavens, striking Gilmreth repeatedly. Thunder roared and echoed across the land as giant hailstones pummeled the dragon.
Lys felt suddenly weak from the rapid expenditure of energy from her amulet. She saw Gilmreth launch himself up into the night air and back toward her. She hit him with more lightning, but the bolts were weaker; she had used too much of the power from her amulet! She began to feel even weaker, and slightly faint.
The storm she had summoned began to weaken and fade away. The wind died down; the rain slowed, and the hail stopped falling. With growing panic, Lys knew that she had failed. Father was right, she thought, Gilmreth is too powerful! What have I done? It was all she could do to stand upon her feet. She should never have tapped the precious energy stored in her amulet.
Gilmreth took advantage of the sudden weakness of the human below him and darted downward, his powerful talons ready. With a sudden grasp, he seized his adversary.
Lys felt the dragon grab her and screamed from the sudden pain. She tried desperately to use her sorcery to free herself from the dragon’s painful grasp. He only squeezed tighter and her consciousness faded. She passed out as weakness and pain overwhelmed her. Her last thoughts were of her father.
Gilmreth flew up into the air with his victim dangling from his talons. He circled and let loose a torrent of dragon fire on the structure below. The dragon turned back toward Firestorm Mountain and his lair deep within. This human who had hurt him would serve as a replacement for the missing sacrifices at the altar.
Behind him, Malcon’s home burned, collapsing as the burning wood structure and furnishings within weakened the massive stones.
-
Lynol took a sudden, deep breath and opened her eyes, seeing her father sitting across from her. She wondered what had just happened; for a moment, it seemed that she had become Lys. Was this another ramification of the fledgling powers she had been experiencing?
Lynol sat awestruck, still held spellbound by the story and her experience. Lys had actually hurt Gilmreth; perhaps joined with Malcon’s power the two of them could have eventually succeeded in destroying the fearsome dragon. She took another deep breath, feeling her heart slow down and shifting her gaze back to her father.
Then reality set in. Lynol realized that Lys had failed and paid for that failure with her life! In the end, she had become another victim of the dragon. Not only that, her uncle and brother had watched the entire terrifying encounter, witnessed its horrifying and tragic ending. She realized that Lys had to have been a tremendously powerful sorceress to do what she had done, to hurt Gilmreth, to injure the dragon with her powerful lightning bolts. It made her realize just how powerful the ancient sorcerers must have been. The awesome power they had controlled was astounding!
“Lynol, are you all right?” asked Damon, seeing the strange look upon his daughter’s face.
“What of Malcon, what happened when he returned?” Lynol asked quietly, trying to gather her thoughts. She still felt connected to Lys after her recent experience. She was trying to imagine what it must have been like with Malcon returning home, finding everything destroyed, and his daughter carried off by Gilmreth. “The anguish he must have felt at his daughter’s death must have been devastating.”
“When he returned he found his home destroyed, the village laid to waste,” her father continued in a slightly subdued voice. “He learned from the surviving villagers that the dragon had carried Lys off. His own family members had fled, afraid the dragon might return. The remaining villagers feared telling Malcon what had happened, bu
t they knew they owed their lives to Lys, and from them, Malcon learned the horrible, painful truth.”
“She saved them,” Lynol said, nodding her head and feeling sadness at the tragedy. “She saved her friends just as she intended.”
“Malcon went into a fit of rage,” Damon continued. “He called upon his sorcery to strike the mountain. He caused great white lightning bolts to rain down from the skies to smite the ancient cliffs, awakening Gilmreth in his deep hidden lair. The mountain itself trembled and rumbled as Malcon called upon all of his power as his rage and fury mounted.”
Drawing a deep breath, Damon stood up and lit several oil lamps as darkness finally settled in. The flickering lamps cast a pale yellow light throughout the room. Walking to the window, he stared out at Firestorm Mountain, shrouded in darkness, imagining it awash in the titanic onslaught of Malcon’s fury.
“What happened next, did Gilmreth come out of his lair?” Lynol asked. She watched as her father sat back down.
“Yes, Gilmreth was flushed from his lair, angry at being disturbed from his sleep. They say that in the ruins of his home Malcon stood face to face with Gilmreth, calling on the lightning, the wind, and the storm to slay the great dragon. Huge lightning bolts such as the world had never seen lit up the night sky, blasting Gilmreth; staggering the dragon. However, even with all of his power, Malcon couldn’t slay his mortal enemy. Gilmreth finally left to hunt for more helpless victims, leaving Malcon standing in broken despair alone in the ruins. Malcon felt defeated, unable to extract his vengeance upon the dragon.”
“What did he do then; why didn’t he rebuild his home? Surely the other family members would have returned once they knew Malcon was back?” Lynol asked. Her attention was raptly held by the story her father was telling. She could feel her pulse racing, her heart beating faster. She was thoroughly captivated by her father’s revelations.
Gilmreth the Awakening Page 5