by P D Dennison
“We must find the clutch,” Turynn proclaimed as he began to look around.
“Every door looks the same. Even the stairs are endless!”
Manya looked about, slowly walking toward the massive pit at the center of the keep. Something drew her close. She sensed magick, ancient and powerful. Maybe it was her keen sense for the arcane. Maybe it was simple curiosity, but she felt drawn to the edge of that hole. She approached and heard the sound of voices coming from somewhere in the depths, faint and distant. A sense of fear and foreboding shivered its way up her back as she carefully placed her hand on the ancient, vine covered, rusted rail and leaned over for a better look. At first, all she could see was depth and darkness, then her keen eyes adjusted and she caught site of a flickering of fire from a small opening in the wall far below. From within the opening came the sounds of a voice, but now that she was closer, she could tell it was not the voice of a man, an elf, a dwarf, a gnome, or any other of the creatures she could recall. The voice, loud yet raspy as if the vocal chords strained to push the air through them, sounded dead and uncaring. More voices came up from below. They growled and snapped at one another and even though much of the time it sounded as if they were yelling to one another, the pit was far too deep and the fire light too far down for her to make out what was being said or see anything. She surmised they were speaking a language or at least a dialect she didn’t know. That was strange in and of itself as it was to the advantage of any good spell caster worth their salt to learn and become fluent in many languages. They did this so that the rarer spell books of the wyrld could be understood and transcribed into a more commonly used tongue if necessary.
The air from the depths of the great pit rose musty, stale and smelled of lichen and putrid water. She began to survey the sides of the pit for a route down to the firelight, but it appeared to be of no use. The walls were sheer and the pit widened on its decent, which would make a climb almost impossible. There had to be a path down from within the great walls of the keep itself.
Ravak was still transfixed on the massive rock mosaics of his ancestry taking it all in and learning of his fantastic heritage, even if his shoulder gave him some pretty awful pain from the wound. While Turynn was ascending one of the many winding staircases trying the many doors as he went, attempting to gain entrance to the inner keep.
Sleipner grazed, but appeared to shy away from the pit, staying near the gate they had come in. There was plenty of overgrowth for him to work on so the three paid little attention to his meanderings.
“Ravak,” implored Manya, “We must find a way into the keep. But first, you must drink of the rejuvenating potion you gave me. Your shoulder is bleeding badly. Let me help you get that chunk of arrow shaft out and clean that up.”
She began to remove his overcoat. Ravak didn’t refuse the help. His shoulder throbbed so badly it had given him a headache and he began to feel lightheaded. Manya grabbed hold of the broken arrow shaft in one hand and Ravak’s shoulder in the other.
“Steady yourself, Northerner. This is going to pinch,” she said as she winked at him.
The wink caught him off guard as she’d hoped. She slowly pulled the arrow shaft through the wound, taking care not tear it open further as she worked. Ravak let out a grunt and grit his teeth against the pain. He shook and sweat all over as she pulled the shaft free.
Manya cleaned the wound with a small piece of hide and soaked it with some of the strong Barbarian whisky. Once Ravak had taken his dose of the medicinal potion and Manya had all but finished cleaning him up, she spoke.
“There’s an open pit over there and I sense we’re not alone. There appears to be firelight within a small cave deep within the wall of the pit and I can hear voices echoing up from the depths. It would be best if we could get the upper hand and see who our fellow explorers are before they find out about us, and best we’d do it quietly so as not to draw attention to ourselves.”
Just as she finished that thought, Turynn shouted down at them.
“I found an unlocked door! Come up here!”
His voice echoed repeatedly off the round walls of the inner courtyard, straight down the pit and into the lair of Graxxen.
The wicked old lich worked with his young dragon, attempting to begin its training to be mounted. He’d bound it about the neck, each leg, and its tail and had them all held in place by several ghouls, who all fought at the strength of the creature even in its nearly infant form. The young dragon had powerful both physically and mystically. A creature of the First Age, its awesome power showed. The many ghouls who tried to keep it at bay were all shaken loose as the cry of Turynn made its way down into the den and to the waiting ears of the young dragon. The beast let out a shrill cry and heaved as he shrugged off his captors. Ghouls lay scattered on the ground before him and he spat out thick red globules of acid at them reducing the lot of them to bubbling pools of smelly goo in only seconds. It lurched forward and faced its cruel master shrieking its disgust at its treatment by the wicked old lich.
The dragon’s cry wound its way up the pit walls and echoed out of the opening somewhat intensified by the reverberated echo that was carried with it. All three companions heard it and went still with dragon fright at the sound.
Sleipner fell over and whimpered on the ground, unable to even open his mouth to cry out as the ancient magick of the dragon fear held his tiny brain fast.
The hairs on Ravak’s neck stood upright and he felt an instant sweat overtake him. He tried to cry out ‘Run!’ but not even the one word would come to his lips. Nor would his feet serve to act upon his plan. Frozen with indescribable fear, his heart began to pound wildly in his chest and his breathing grew panicked. He looked at Manya who stood transfixed by the mystic dragon fear. Turynn, high atop a staircase several storeys above them, also stood paralyzed. The three remained motionless and terror stricken. Manya sensed the powerful and ancient magick that overtook them and knew all too well they were no match for whatever creature had let out the mystic shriek, much less whatever else lay in the caves of the pit below. A minute later, the fear passed and Ravak rushed to Manya.
“We must gather Turynn and escape this place. Whatever let out that sound, we cannot possibly face it.” The dragon fear, which Ravak did not understand, still consumed his thoughts as he tried to rationalize what had just happened.
Turynn, already on his way down the stairs at a fast trot with a similar look of panic in his wide and wild eyes, didn’t speak again until he came close enough to the other two to talk in a much more hushed tone.
“We must flee at once!”
Manya grabbed them both by the arm. “Wait! Both of you, wait! You are stricken with the magick of dragon fear. What you’re feeling is not real. It’s the powerful feeling of magick that is inherent to a creature of the First Age, a living dragon.” She felt it too but had the good sense of a sorceress to overcome it, understanding the mysteries of magick. “We must tread lightly, but we’re here for a purpose. We’re not going anywhere, but down into that pit to find that dragon and hopefully some eggs.”
“We’re too late. The eggs have obviously hatched,” said Turynn as he tried to pull her toward the gatehouse.
Sleipner back on his feet now, cried out and carried on. He head butted the gate in a complete panic, trying to escape.
“Sleipner!” Ravak hissed through his teeth, “Get over here!” But the young ram wouldn’t listen. Ravak ran over to him and quickly muzzled him with a length of rope. It was too late; the cries of the young ram spilled into the pit and cascaded downward to the lair of the lich and his young, black. Both their heads turned toward the opening and the dragon moved toward the hole.
“Stop!” commanded Graxxen as he rose to take control of the beast, but the creature had a mind of its own. The brash young dragon lifted himself off the ledge of the mouth of the cave with his powerful wings and launched himself into the air to investigate the noises from above.
It rose out of the hole with a r
ush of air whistling beneath it. The dust of countless centuries that lay settled in the courtyard swirled up with the buffeting of his wings. Still small, only some eight feet from nose to tip of tail, but every bit a dragon and quite an impressive spectacle for the three companions who’d never known his kind but in faerie tales. He rose up into the air above them and looked down on the courtyard, scanning for the source of the noise.
“Run!” Turynn pulled at the sleeves of both Ravak and Manya, guiding them over to the staircase that led to the open door he’d located, it seemed the only quick route away from the eye of the terrible beast. Manya and Ravak said nothing and headed for the stairs.
The dragon spotted the ram and spat out a globule of acid. It struck the ground very close to Sleipner, splashing onto the young ram’s legs and side. He cried out in pain as the corrosive red gunk bubbled and steamed as it dissolved some of his hide. Ravak pulled at his harness with all his might, but the ram had suffered a serious injury and went down writhing. Ravak looked at the poor creature, tears of panic and sorrow welled up in his eyes as he dropped the rope he’d been guiding the young ram with and loosed the muzzle, preventing him from crying out. Sleipner let out a series of panicked and terror stricken cries as he spasmed on the ground in agony.
“Cover your ears,” shouted Manya, as she stuffed some cloth from her dress into her own, running behind Turynn at the same time. Turynn simply put his hands over his ears and ran terrified up the steep staircase, stumbling as he clambered in a mad dash for the open door way. Ravak didn’t react quickly enough and the dragon let out another blood curdling cry, paralyzing him in place not ten feet from Sleipner and still several steps from the foot of the staircase, his only means of escape. The serpent landed between Ravak and Sleipner, facing the now helpless and frantic ram. It lowered its great head and picked up the young goat in its powerful jaws. With one of its foreclaws, it pulled the poor animal in two. Ravak saw the blood and entrails spill out onto the ground, awaiting his fate, unable to move. He tried to slow his breathing, but it was impossible. He tried to get his legs to move, but they would not respond. Tears streamed down his cheeks at the sight of his dead companion. He could hear Manya and Turynn crying out to distract the dragon behind him, but what good would that do? That plan would end with the dragon between him and the door he needed to get to.
The beast stood before him, devouring the remains of Sleipner. Tears streaked down Ravak’s terrified visage, unable to avenge the death of his companion, awaiting a similar fate. The dragon finished his meal and began to turn around to face Ravak. He began to feel the effects of the ancient and mystical dragon fear subside. Its long snout hung open and he could see its terrible bloodstained teeth. Bits of Sleipner’s flesh hung from its jaw and blood dripped on the ground as it turned to face him. Its eyes were narrow and yellow with a black slit at the centre that seemed to be fixed on Ravak. The air smelled of the creature’s acrid spittle. The very scent of it burned the eyes and nose.
At first, Ravak’s breathing became more regular and then his chills left and finally his paralysis lifted, freeing him from the grasp of his magickal prison. He reached for one of his axes, hurling it at the beast. The Axe whirled end over end through the air as if in slow motion toward its target. It landed a well-placed blow in the dragon’s neck as the beast let out a shriek having never been harmed by an axe, sword or spear in its short life. In the same motion, Ravak rolled toward the beast drawing from his back a spear and from his belt another axe. Rage filled him, yet he kept his breath steady and his demeanor calm. He saw only blood now. His heart pounded heavily in his ears as he felt the vengeance well up within, a tidal wave that would come crashing out onto this dragonling as if it were nothing more than a piece of driftwood dashed to bits by the violent tides of the Southern Ocean.
The axe come up first and went deep into the belly of the beast. Ravak found himself directly in front of the dragon. The spear followed in two sharp strikes. The first found home in the right knee of the dragon’s hind leg and Ravak whirled the spear in a blindingly fast and practiced maneuver. It came around his midsection in one deft move to land the second strike in the kneecap of the other leg. The beast came down hard on top of Ravak and let out a cry of agony. This cry did not assault the sensibilities of the three companions and was not laced with the mystic dragon fear. A cry of fear from the beast left its throat as it panicked. The foolish young creature had gone and caught itself unaware that a tiny man would be fierce enough to harm him.
Ravak grunted and struggled to push the scaly, smelly flesh of the beast away. Clamouring desperately, he tried to get out from underneath its bulk. Just a dragonling, It still weighed a ton, eight feet long when sprawled on top of a man. He managed to struggle free and regain his footing, but his spear was pinned somewhere under the dragon who also regained his footing. Young as the beast looked, he wouldn’t be so easily defeated, filled with a rage for the creature that had just hobbled him.
Arrows sang through the air first one, then another. Turynn was firing down into the back of the neck of the creature, trying to draw it off of Ravak. The beast slowly lumbered around to meet the gaze of the archer as he loosed another arrow into the creature, this time striking it in the eye, giving Ravak just enough time to make his move. He rolled forward and reached for his spear that lay on the ground beside the dragon. He raised it high and let out a terrible battle cry while leaping onto the creature’s back. He brought the spear down with a powerful thrust, using both hands to drive the tip into the back of the beast’s head. The creature came down hard onto the ground, letting out a terrible cry that ended abruptly as the spear put an end to the last of the mystic beast’s thoughts. Ravak tumbled and hit the ground with force, landing on all fours beside the heap of dragon that now lay lifeless beside him. Blood flowed down the neck and head of the beast from the wound Ravak had inflicted.
“You killed it!” Turynn exclaimed. “The bastard just killed a dragon, Manya!” He grabbed his sister by the shoulders and shook her as he made his proclamation, elated with the unforeseen victory. He jumped and danced about happy to be alive and amazed at Ravak’s skill. They both ran down the stairs to Ravak’s aid.
Still on all fours panting, he cried and fell into the dirt when they came upon him. He rose slowly and wiped away the tears when he saw them coming his way. Dragon blood spatters and grime smeared his dispirited face. His blood, mud and sweat streaked cheeks. Both could see his only thoughts were for his lost companion, Sleipner. He walked over to the young ram’s mangled carcass and found very little left to mourn over. Ravak let out a cough and began to sob, falling to his knees before the remains of his friend. Manya put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed his back.
“I know,” she said to him consolingly. “I know.”
The dragon fear no longer had its grip on them. They all knew they had to get inside the keep and get the eggs away from Graxxen before he could hatch another. Gradually, Ravak calmed from the loss of his little friend.
The trio had made their way deep inside the keep. The air grew even mustier and danker. The walls were cold to the touch. They’d walked some way down the round corridors looking for open doors, but found them all locked. Finally after several minutes of searching, they came upon an open archway on the inner wall that led to a little antechamber with stairs winding both up and down. They took the stairwell down, hoping they could find a way to the pit. The further they descended, the darker the stairwell grew until finally; Ravak saw only blackness before his eyes.
“Wait. I can’t see a damn thing,” he exclaimed.
“Oh, sorry. We didn’t think,” came Manya’s voice from the darkness down in front of him. “We both have elven sight and can see in the darkness.”
She mumbled an arcane word to herself softly and her hand ignited into a small mystic flame. She searched down a few steps more to find an old torch on the wall set into a socket. She grabbed and lit it while making her way back up to Ravak, the flame on her hand
extinguishing itself at her will, nary a sign of burn or char was left on her skin.
“What do you mean you both have elven sight?”
“We’re both half-elves, friend,” Turynn said with a smile.
The stairs wound down the inner wall of the keep for some three storeys and every so often opened into an antechamber like the one they’d entered through, darkened and continued on down into the earth below. The three trotted on. All agreed they must now be walking along a staircase that wound around the great pit they’d seen in the courtyard above. It widened as it wound down around the pit, but still they had found no openings.
Finally they came to a flat-bottomed round hallway with doors on both sides large enough for a dragon to pass through in some places, while in others there were smaller man-sized doors. The stone here felt cooler with the chill of the deep earth. The companions could feel the nip rise up through their boots. They crept along slowly, listening at each door as they went. Finally they came upon the door they sought. A smaller man-sized door with a freshly oiled lock. Turynn peered through the lock with all the practised skill of a cat burglar.
Graxxen appeared to be finishing his preparations to escape the trio. He had his ghouls piling all of his valuables in the center of a magick circle with as many of the eggs as he could gather. He began to chant and gesticulate as he prepared his magick. A clunk at the door as both Ravak and Turynn hacked at it with axes. Then another came then another, and another. The companions were coming through. Graxxen let out a rageful roar at the door.
“Bar that damned door,” he hissed at his ghouls.
The companions could hear the ghouls piling things in front of the door hastily. Graxxen began to chant again. Ravak finally convinced the door to give with a final chop at the lock. He pushed the door open only a crack against a pile of shelves and refuse the ghouls had left there to stop them entering the chamber before Graxxen had the chance to escape. He could see an eerie purplish glow emanating from the patterns on the floor. The light began to rise up out of the magick circle and swirled into the shape of a portal. The air was alive with the almost electric charge of Graxxen’s power.