Rage of the Dragon King

by J. Keller Ford

  Charlotte gathered her hair over one shoulder. “Oh my gosh. Fine. Okay. I’ll tell you the story. It all started when Trog was taking us to Gyllen Castle.”

  David closed his eyes and listened to a story he’d never forget.

  Charlotte

  Charlotte fell from great heights and crashed through the trees, smashing limbs as she plummeted to the ground. She hit the earth like a garbage bag filled with pea soup, her body as broken as the trail of branches she left behind. She stared at the stars twinkling through the hole in the canopy as darkness overcame her.

  Minutes or hours later, she wasn’t sure which, she woke, the sky black as tar, sprinkled with shimmering sequins. She lay there for the longest time, at first unable to move, and then too scared to do so. Finally, she rolled onto all fours and with laboring breaths, stood. The cool air brushed over her scraped and bloodied arms and the grass was icy wet beneath her. She cupped her bruised ribs, baffled as to how she wasn’t broken into a thousand pieces. A breeze lifted her hair and soft bells chimed all around her. She followed the sound, her gaze pinned to the ground.

  All around her on the forest floor was a carpet of dark purple. Thousands of stems bearing white flowers shaped like bells protruded from within the tapestry. With every light breeze, the bells would sway and the purple pendulous stamens would circle the inside of the delicate petals, each patch of flowers playing a different note, all coming together in a haunting, melodious tune. Charlotte turned around, taking in her surroundings where the foliage was a strange bluish-green and tiny, flighty, winged creatures fluttered from tree to tree with a wild, free sound that filled the forest.

  “Where the heck am I?”

  “The Elastine Forest,” said a female voice behind her. “It is where Einar imprisons all women and children he captures.”

  Charlotte startled and turned, her gaze falling upon a graceful woman with long black hair and gray clothing. She was standing in a sliver of moonlight, her face was soft, her eyes gentle despite the drawn features. She walked toward Charlotte with the grace of a gazelle and said, “My name is Mysterie.” She offered her hand to Charlotte.

  Charlotte’s mouth hung open. “I-I’m Charlotte,” she said. “Y-you’re the queen of Hirth.”

  The woman smiled. “Yes, I am.”

  “Oh my gosh! Everyone is looking for you. We’ve got to get you out of here. We’ve got to get you back to Hirth.”

  The woman laughed softly. “If only we could. Four days I’ve walked the perimeter looking for a way out, but this fortress is well sealed.”

  “But that’s impossible. There’s always a way out, even if it means we go over or under.”

  “I’ve tried digging, but the soil burned my hands.” Mysterie held out her blistered palms for Charlotte to see. “Climbing the trees is out of the question. Once you climb so high, they bend and stretch like soft taffy, and of course, they only bend inward.” She smiled and it held a hint of sadness. “I had hoped the dragon could help, but I fear he’s dead.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. “What dragon?”

  “He arrived a short while before you. Strange looking creature. He’s over here.”

  Charlotte followed Mysterie deeper into the woods, stepping over and through the underbrush. She could see nothing, but she was well aware of life growing all around her. A ground mist appeared and grew thicker with each step. Ahead, a tawny glow appeared through the trees. The drumming of her heart grew louder, so much she was sure the entire forest could hear it. They arrived at a clearing where a small dragon lay on his side among gold and red leaves.

  “Mirith!”

  Charlotte took a step toward him, but Mysterie grasped her arm. “Shhh.” Her eyes darted, her finger to her lips. “We need to hide,” she whispered. “They’re coming.”

  “Who’s coming?” Charlotte asked, unable to mask the alarm growing within.

  Mysterie smiled. “Dryads. Watch.”

  They hid behind a cluster of boulders covered in a carpet of vibrant green moss.

  From the depths of the forest emerged seven enormous humanesque creatures with bright green foliage for hair, branches for arms, and skin the color of pumpkins.”

  Charlotte’s pulse quickened. “Oh. My. God.”

  “I’ve heard of them all my life,” Mysterie whispered, “but never witnessed one until the day Einar cast me here. I was broken. Ill. They cured me. It is said they hold the power to understand and heal all sentient beings. If anyone can breathe a spark into that poor creature, it will be them.”

  “So, why are we hiding?”

  “Legend says the visible presence of humans during a blessing inhibits the power of healing, and in that vulnerable state, the sins of the watchful transfer into the souls of the weak. I’m not a bad person, but I’d rather not take the chance of transferring what sins I do have into a dragon, would you?”

  Charlotte crouched and watched as an older-looking and larger dryad stepped forward and raised her branchlike arms to the sky. Her voice rang out clear and strong. “Let all who are gathered bear witness to the awakening. Let our life force settle within the boundaries of this body and spring forth new life.”

  The other dryads raised their arms and swayed and moaned. A cool breeze swept through the trees. The bells chimed. The dryad spoke again. “Behold the veil of life. Rise and walk the mist young creature of life. Cross the River of Existence and pursue the spirits of the earth. Seek the song of the life sprites. Come hither. Rise from the darkness. Let the drums of life beat within your heart.” Two of her branches thumped the ground.

  Bum. Bum.

  Bum. Bum.

  The other dryads stepped forward and formed a circle, their branches to the sky. The small, fluttering creatures joined in, rising and falling like sparks from a campfire. The chant grew louder. Stronger. Faster.

  Bum. Bum.

  Bum. Bum.

  The earth vibrated. A chill ran through Charlotte. Her skin prickled with excitement.

  The drumming grew louder and louder until the air boomed like thunder.

  The aroma of baked apples and cinnamon filled the night air. Charlotte squeezed Mysterie’s hand. “Do you smell it?” Charlotte whispered. “That’s him. That’s what Mirith smells like.” A tear fell down her cheek. “He’s alive!”

  The dryads clasped branches and swayed to the left and to the right. A wispy vortex formed around Mirith, lifting him from the ground. Charlotte’s and Mysterie’s hair whipped in their faces. Twigs and leaves blew past. They both flattened to the ground until the wind died. Slowly, they peered over the boulders.

  Mirith stood in the center of the clearing. He shook his head and puffed his scales.

  The elder dryad stepped forward, breaking apart the ring. “Young beast of the earth. You have tasted death and now you breathe life once more. Your destiny awaits. Seek it. Find it. Command it. Peace be upon you, our young friend.”

  The dryads turned and slipped away, flowing into the forest, leaving Mirith all alone. Charlotte waited a few moments to make sure they were gone, and stepped out from the forest’s edge.

  Mirith’s gaze snapped in her direction. A brief moment of fear held Charlotte to her spot. “It’s me, Mirith,” Charlotte said, holding out her hand.

  “How do you know him?” Mysterie asked.

  “He came to me and David and Trog in the Field of Palinar.”

  Mysterie clasped her hands to her heart. “Trog? He’s safe? He’s not dead?” Tears swelled in her eyes.

  “I don’t know. We were almost to the Field of Valnor when Einar attacked. Mirith battled him and we thought he died. David and I ran, but then David and I broke apart. Einar captured me. I don’t know what happened to Trog or David. I do know, though, if anyone can help us get out of this place, it’s Mirith. I just hope he remembers me.”

  “Then might I suggest you begin convincing him.” Mysterie looked off in the distance toward a rustle, slowly drawing clo
ser. “The forest trolls are on their way and they’ll be here soon.”

  Charlotte’s heart fell into her feet. “Trolls?”

  “Hurry,” Mysterie whispered.

  Charlotte moved into the glade, thankful for the moonlight to guide her steps. “Hey Mirith,” she said, her hand out. “Do you remember me? Charlotte? I’m David’s friend.”

  Mirith’s tail swished the ground.

  “We met on the Field of Palinar. I was with Sir Trogsdill and David. Do you remember?”

  Mirith flattened his scales and his feathered mane. He cocked his head from side to side and took a step closer, sniffing, then stopped, his neck careened to his left as if listening. He snorted and bounded toward Charlotte and Mysterie, tossing his head about while snorting.

  “Oh, my,” Mysterie said, fear seizing her voice. “He’s attacking.”

  Charlotte shook her head as Mirith fled past. “No. He wants us to follow him.” Charlotte grabbed Mysterie’s hand. “Let’s go!”

  They ran deep into the forest where the air was dank and heavy with the scent of upturned soil. Mirith slowed to a trot, his head held high, his nose to the wind. Nearing the edge of a stream, he turned and flashed his feathered mane. Charlotte and Mysterie stopped, their breathing hard and fast.

  Mirith set about ripping aside brush and undergrowth. Charlotte and Mysterie huddled close together, the stomping and growling of the trolls drawing closer. Wood splintered and crashed to the ground, stirring up the night creatures and sending them squawking into the night sky. Anxious moments passed before the mouth of a cave emerged from all of Mirith’s steady work.

  Mirith trotted to her side and nudged her toward the dark, gaping mouth in the earth.

  The stomping drew nearer, the growls of the trolls louder.

  “Come on,” Mysterie said, clasping Charlotte’s hand. “I’m not too fond of what might be waiting for us inside there, but it has to be better than what is coming for us out here.”

  They crawled into the darkness, the ground moist and spongy. The air had a sweet, earthy tinge to it, like orange blossoms and fresh cut grass. They sat across from each other, their knees drawn to their chests. Outside, Mirith scurried about raking the brush over the cave’s door.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  The ground shook with the trolls’ approach.

  “No, Mirith,” Charlotte said, scuttling toward him on her hands and knees. “Come inside, before they see you.”

  He arched his tail and threw a bolt toward her. The rock above her exploded. Pebbles rained down in sheets.

  Charlotte backed up, her chest rising and falling with the rapid beat of her heart. More brush kicked up around the opening until there was nothing more than a sliver of moonlight shining through.

  Branches splintered. The forest floor crunched.

  Peering through the slit, Charlotte clasped a hand over her mouth as three enormous creatures pounded from the forest, swinging clubs the size of battering rams. They were broad of shoulder with yellow-green skin, and at least twelve feet tall, with round black eyes, jagged teeth, and bald heads. Pustules oozed on their faces, and they wore a horrid stench of death and decay.

  Mirith took up his attack stance, his scales shimmering of fire in the moonlight.

  The trolls spoke, their voices gruff and throaty. They laughed, and the trees trembled.

  Mirith pawed at the ground, a bull ready to fight.

  The trolls roared and thundered toward him, their clubs raised, their teeth exposed.

  Mirith threw a bolt. It landed on the ground at their feet.

  A warning.

  The trolls roared louder.

  Lightning bolts erupted in the night sky.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Howls of pain tore through the forest.

  A troll stumbled and fell. The earth trembled as he hit the ground. His face lay mere feet from the cave, nostrils flaring. His eyes shifted, looking. Staring. At Charlotte. He stretched out an arm and tossed aside all of the brush Mirith had built.

  “No!” Charlotte said. She grasped Mysterie’s arm and scurried deeper into the cave, but it was only so deep and the troll’s arm was long. “Mirith, do something!” Charlotte yelled as the beast’s hand found them pressed to the rear wall.

  Charlotte beat at the thick, green fingers as they wrapped around her. “Let. Go. Of me!”

  The troll dragged her toward his wretched face, his arm dragging along the cave floor. She ducked as he pulled her through the opening.

  One lightning bolt after another flew through the sky, striking the standing trolls and bursting them into flames. They howled and fell upon each other, a pyre of writhing, rancid flesh. Burning. Scorching.

  Charlotte coughed, the smoke choking her lungs. Tears fell, her eyes burning from the rank, sulfurous odor and fumes. The troll’s grip tightened around her as he pulled to his hands and knees.

  Her ribs quaked beneath the pressure, bones ready to snap any minute.

  Stay calm. Relax. Play dead.

  The troll roared at Mirith.

  Trees bent from the gale force. Mirith tumbled backwards from the blast.

  The troll stood, held Charlotte by her legs like a club, and stomped toward Mirith, Charlotte swinging like a pendulum.

  She squeezed her eyes shut tight and pictured a thousand fiery needles lodged into the troll’s eyes.

  Flashes of light penetrated her closed lids.

  The howl ripped across her nerves.

  The troll’s grip loosened and Charlotte plummeted to the ground. She crab-walked backwards as the creature weaved, his fingers dug into his eyes. Blood streamed down his forearms. Thick, heavy drops plopped to the forest floor. Mirith grasped her by the arm and dragged her into the cave, away from the faltering feet. Blind, the giant creature failed his arms about, smashing the forest into kindling. Mirith snorted and emerged from the cage, his tail poised for one final blow. The bolt flew from the tip of his tail and found its mark at the base of the troll’s neck. One final bellow, one last stumble, and the troll toppled to the ground, falling dead upon his smoldering companions. His body burst into flames.

  With little prodding from the dragon, Mysterie and Charlotte fled from the scene, happy to be away from the stench of trolls and death. They hiked for hours along the stream until they arrived in a glade of plush grass and yellow flowers as pungent as jasmine on a spring night. Mirith moved toward the other side of the clearing, his steps methodic, cautious.

  “What is it, boy?” Charlotte asked, following behind.

  Mirith swiped his tail across the ground, back and forth, back and forth, until the tip turned blue. With a sideways flip, he flung a dagger of ice at the tree line. It met with an invisible membrane and plunked to the ground.

  A lightning bolt followed only to sizzle and disintegrate on impact.

  Charlotte and Mysterie threw rocks, twigs, anything they could find, but the results were the same. Mirith sat on his haunches, his head tilted to one side as if deep in though. Tired, Charlotte yawned, sat cross-legged, and leaned against him.

  Pain shot through her body like lighting through a rod. Sparks flew from her skin. Raging fire surged through her body. She blew off his side like a bullet from a gun and crash-landed a few feet away.

  She moaned and stood. “What the heck? That freaking hurt.” She brushed at the tingles scurrying up her arms, like an army of fire ants marching over ice.

  Mirith stared at her, at the wall, then back at her. His eyes grew dark—two garnets shimmering from the depths of a well—and calculating. He stepped toward her, swishing his tail, his eyes flitting from her to the barrier.

  Charlotte swallowed, her saliva like bubblegum in her throat. “You want me to touch you again, don’t you?”

  Mirith made a loon sound, spun in a circle, then sat and wagged his tail.

  Charlotte looked toward the cloaked borderline and hugged hers
elf. “I don’t know, Mirith. That was some messed up shit, pardon my French.”

  He scrambled to his feet and bowed, the whites of his eyes turned up to her. Begging. Pleading. His tail swished.

  “Oh, no. Don’t you dare start that cute crap with me! There is no way I’m going through Torture 101 again. I learned everything I needed to learn from that class.”

  He growled, walked up to the unseen wall, and blew on it, encrusting the invisible frame in a frosty sheet. With a powerful sideways flick of his tail, he shot a lightning bolt into the target. The ice cracked, shattered into thousands of pieces, but the barrier remained.

  Mysterie grasped Charlotte’s hand. “I think I understand. He can’t break the barrier on his own. He needs you to help him.”

  “How can I help him? I don’t have any magic.”

  “Maybe not, but something happened when you touched him. Maybe if you do it again, it will have some effect.”

  “What? You mean be his catalyst?” Charlotte shook her head. “No, no, no. I’m not going to deliberately inflict that kind of pain on myself ever again. It was as if I my bones were frozen, but my flesh was searing in flames.”

  “You have to try.” Mysterie squeezed Charlotte’s hand with motherly tenderness. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if it will grant our freedom … ”

  Ahh, damn it, why did she have to be logical? She was right, though. They were prisoners of Einar’s and they would die in this forest if they didn’t find a way out. She thought of her brother. Daniel didn’t question his duties, his missions. He didn’t chicken out because he was scared of pain or death. He knew the risks and flew into them anyway, and it wasn’t even his freedom he was seeking. He stared into the face of the ultimate sacrifice with strength and determination. If he could do it, so could she. After all, what was a little pain?

  She mumbled under her breath and kicked at the ground. “Fine, Mirith.” The little dragon bound toward her. “I’ll do it, but you better not make me hold onto you longer than I have to, got it?”