by E. W. SALOKA
Three - The Path to Dragmar
Marquor made her way back to her forest; she was ready for a fight. Just the thought of those grimy orcs made her blood boil. Being in White-Echo was really crossing the line and she would not allow it. She had forbidden them to trespass and if found there it would mean death. She gnashed her razor sharp teeth in anticipation of the coming battle. “Well if they do not listen they will pay “she hissed.
As Marquor flew above, she circled slowly and watched as the orcs scrambled for cover. She wanted Piggmordon but couldn’t spot him. An arrow whizzed by her head followed by a long-spear. It glanced off her jeweled neck plates with a ringing metallic sound. The dragon dodged more arrows quickly and effortlessly. Her eyes narrowed as she banked into a tight, downward spiral dive. One of the orcs didn’t notice the beast racing toward him. As he prepared another arrow for launch, a large talon pierced him violently through the chest. She threw the orc into the nearest tree trunk, but he was dead before he hit.
Marquor came around and landed in the middle of a small clearing within the forest. She was in a rage by now and snarling loudly. Orcs rushed towards her from all sides trying to overwhelm her. Marquor’s large tail swiftly pounded three of the charging creatures into the ground with a sick sounding thud. An arrow then hit her in the shoulder. She pulled it out with her teeth and spat it onto the ground. The dragon wheeled around and grabbed two orcs, shaking them like rag dolls. The furious beast slammed them into one another headfirst watching as they fell into a lifeless heap. Other orcs ran after witnessing the carnage but she pursued and trampled them too.
Only one orc remained alive. It was trying to hide from her, cowering behind a fallen tree trunk. Slowly Marquor moved toward the shaking creature. Locking eyes with him she made a very chilling sound, like a laughing hiss. Her large fangs were only inches from his face. Raising her claw, she pressed one talon to his head. The orc was petrified with fear. “You I will let go,” she said in a cold whisper. “Go and tell your general what happened here.” She left a painful, jagged mark on his cheek with a quick swipe of her claw. This terrified the orc and made him fall backwards. Almost tripping, He scrambled to regain his balance and ran frantically into the woods. Marquor smirked and laughed at his clumsy retreat. “Orcs are such fun to play with, they amuse me so!” Beating her wings, she soared gracefully into the sky.
Thomas opened his eyes and shook Zach who was still half-asleep. “Wake up, I hear noise outside, possibly the dragon has returned for us.”
“Alright granddad,” he stood up and stretched lazily.
Thomas smoothed his hair and cleared his throat. “Hello, is that you Marquor?”
“I have returned as promised. Are you ready to go to the castle? I can fly you there in a short amount of time.” Thomas and Zach walked outside into the sunlight and joined the dragon that was reclining against a rock.
Zach spoke in an excited voice, “How did your battle go, did you wipe out the orcs?”
“Well, I took a little damage,” she said motioning to her shoulder, “but its nothing compared to what I did to them. I was hunting for Piggmordon but the coward never showed up and allowed his men to die a brutal death. He and I still have unfinished business. He should take his army and retreat back to the Norbe Swamp.”
“Norbe Swamp?” Zach asked, “Is that where the orcs live?”
Marquor spoke, “Yes it is far off in a distant corner of Brandiss-Dor. It is a two day journey on foot but much faster if you fly there. It is best to stay away from that miserable place!”
The Norbe Swamp was a place that any sane person would certainly want to avoid. Ugly as ugly could be and filled with the nastiest of creatures that would make you a tasty snack in an instant. If you took even the slightest wrong turn, the soft spongy ground would quickly swallow you, not leaving a trace that you were there. Decay was everywhere and death permeated the thick air with a foul stench. Even the trees were deadly with long spidery vines hanging from parasite-encrusted branches. If you were unfortunate enough to wander into them, their poison would paralyze and leave you defenseless.
The orcs called this home. Nasty by nature, this made them even worse. Generations ago, the orcs dwelled in the forests, but as they had become more prone to raiding the local inhabitants they were expelled from these areas. As the years passed, separate orc tribes split off from the main group and found their way back to living amongst the other races in relative peace for a time. A Warlord rose among the ranks and convinced the tribes to attack and take the forests and valuable lands for their own. War began but they were beaten and finally driven back to the swamps. The Warlord who started the troubles passed on, but he had a son who would inherit the throne as leader of the orc tribes. His name was Piggmordon.
Zach threw his hands up, “No problem there Marquor, not interested in any nasty swamp.” Zach looked at Thomas who was almost glowing. His skin was vibrant and healthy. “Grandfather, one thing is puzzling me. You look so young here, how can that happen?”
The dragon had been listening. “Oh, this could be a dangerous thing to fool around with; partaking from the waters at Hyperion Lake may not be wise. They may have youthful properties but with other unknown effects. One more mystery Faazen will need to unravel. In the meantime, enjoy your youth Thomas Wellington.”
Thomas jumped up, raced across the tall grass and leapt for the sky. “I feel like I could touch the clouds, incredible! Don’t take it away please, I was very ill before.”
“Then sir, this might have been your wish.” Marquor answered.
Zachary interrupted. “No this was my wish for granddad to return to good health. I didn’t want to lose him like mom and dad.” he rubbed his forehead and sighed.
“Well I am sure that your parents are looking down on you and smiling this day for your bravery and wise ways.” The dragon was eloquent as she spoke.
“I’m not brave Marquor.” Zach shook his head.
“Maybe not yet” she said, “but you will be.” The dragon nodded toward him. “I have a feeling that you will be, young man.”
Thomas smiled and put his hand on Zach’s shoulder. “Sometimes these things just happen. Don’t worry, your time to shine will come, it does for everyone. And thank you my boy for such a thoughtful wish.”
The dragon started to rise, “Come, it’s time to leave.”
“Well if it isn’t far, My grandson and I would really enjoy the walk.” Thomas’ eyes were bright with excitement. Zach just rolled his eyes in protest.
“I suppose it would be fine, it’s not very far. I’ll give you the directions and let the wizard know you are on your way.”
“Well goodbye my new friends have a safe trip, stay on this path and do not wander far from it. You should arrive at Dragmar within the hour.” The dragon launched gracefully into the sky.
Zach mumbled, “An hour, oh brother!” He stood up and frowned again.
They walked along for a while taking in unusual and beautiful sights. As they approached a split in the path, a lone figure rounded a turn. The traveler was quite tall, and his large hooded cloak concealed the features of his face. The shadows hid all but the black hair falling from the sides of his hood. As they passed, he nodded in their direction. Thomas and Zachary returned his gesture.
“Zach lets pick it up a bit, I’m getting anxious to meet this wizard.”
“Yeah, I’m with you.” He was already tired. The cloaked traveler walked on, a thin smile on his face.
Greborg made his way through the forest. He was long, sleek, and different from the other dragons. He was a loner. He chose to make his home in a small part of Long Vine Forest. With the green and gold glistening at dawn, it was always a breathtaking sight. The forest beckoned to him with its lush foliage and hardy vegetation, but it wasn’t neat and manicured like the Seia Woods. It was as a forest should be, thick and untamed. He lazily curled up for a nap under a thicket of tall grasses. The dragon was sleeping so soundly he did not hear a thing
.
Slagg the mountain troll was walking under the dense tree branches. Clearing a spot for himself on a nearby rock, he sat down to rest. The weary troll had been traveling through the night, and needed refreshment and some food to take him the rest of the way. He was quiet as he took out a small loaf of bread wrapped in a checkered cloth. Munching slowly on the golden bread he thought about the next leg of the journey. “Well, there are many paths I could take but only one is the quickest way to the Jumac Mountains, even though the crags are steep and rocky.” He finished his bread quickly, closed the pouch and continued onward. His tribe lived deep in the mountains. Once a year he made this trek there, but because he chose to live away from them, he had become sort of an oddity. The visit was never enjoyable. It consisted of how he let down his tribe and rejected their ways. The tribe elders would gather around, point fingers, and ridicule his simple way of life. Deep in his thoughts, Slagg did not see Greborg as he rustled through the fallen leaves. He almost stumbled onto the slumbering dragon.
“Hello Greborg, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Slagg said in an apologetic voice.
“Well my friend I have slept long enough and it is rare for me to have visitors in the forest this early in the morning, but you are welcome to stay and rest.” Greborg had always seen Slagg on his yearly trip to the Jumac Mountains.
“Yes this is my annual trip home. Would you care to go in my place?”
Greborg shook his head. “Now Slagg we go through this every year, go my friend and get it over with. We all have family we would like to avoid. I have a few that would be better crawling back under the rock from whence they came!”
Slagg sat down, “Yes you are right, get it over and done with, and soon!” They both laughed.
“I know why you choose to make your home here in this secluded part of the forest, it’s so peaceful.”
“That is true Slagg, I never tire of its beauty and it beckons to me like an old friend.” They both sat back and enjoyed the morning, the troll eating his breakfast and the dragon curled up in the leaves. Sometimes friendship was comfortable like that. Simplicity was a gift they possessed, and both were generous in spirit too.
Greborg yawned lazily and decided to go hunting for his meal. “Goodbye my friend, enjoy your trip and keep safe.”
Slagg waved to his friend and then sat quietly reading his book, the Natural Botanical History of Brandiss-Dor.
The trolls were large, hulking beings with a long history of war and violence. They were intelligent but leaned more toward their brutish nature. As a young troll, Slagg was as normal as any other in his tribe, but as he grew he acquired a thirst for more knowledge. This began to separate him from his peers who thought him foolish and weak.
He wasn’t content to go along with the crowd. Instead of participating in the violent and thoughtless actions of the others, he began to seek solitude and often went away for days at a time. In his twentieth year, he met an old monk in one of his favorite secluded areas of the forest. The monk was in dire need of help as he was about to be consumed by a deadly, carnivorous plant. In return for saving his life, the monk taught Slagg to read properly and provided him with all of the great literature he could absorb. Slagg became an eager student and the monks’ best friend.
They would sit for hours and discuss many things. Politics, history, religion, and anything else that came to mind. Sometimes they would be completely silent and simply observe the rhythm of the forest. Slagg taught the monk to play the flute, which he had fashioned for himself as a young troll. The monk learned to play very well. They would sit on the rocks and compose music near the narrow streams as the sunlight filtered through the tall trees.
During this time, Slagg would go back to his village between his trips to the forest. One early morning upon waking, he found a few of his favorite books ripped to shreds. Harsh words from his father and brothers let him know that this was no longer home for him. He proudly held his temper, gathered his meager belongings and left. At hearing what had happened, the old monk offered Slagg an old but spacious cellar under the monastery. It was a forgotten area within the foundation of the vast building, and found by an entryway at the edge of the forest. The well-concealed door was behind thickets of brush and surrounded by a giant strangler plant. You had to know the exact place to tickle it or it would strangle, and then eat you slowly.
Slagg lived comfortably in his new home, as the place was large and perfect for a troll such as him. Natural light filtered through thick vine-covered frosted glass panes, and partially covered windows peeked above ground, enough to let in the strong morning and midday sun. Slagg had constructed a vast bookcase out of fallen trees holding many volumes of his treasured books. Ornate wall hangings covered the stone walls and the floor was mostly stone but comfortable with a thick animal pelt here and there. A large round table held stacks of maps of the land and other items from his frequent travels. Oil lamps and strategically placed candles lit the troll’s home well. Other than an occasional mumblebug, the place was free of pests and quite clean. This was highly unusual for a troll. This was now his home.
Ten years had passed, then late one night the elder monk appeared at his door with a serious look. He explained to Slagg that he had to leave the monastery. His superiors had reassigned him to another part of their order.
He needed to perform missionary work in a distant land.
“I will miss you greatly dear friend, but the work that is before me is essential and quite important. Our time together has been special and I will treasure the memories of them always.” The monk patted Slagg’s hand.
Slagg was silent but nodded and understood. “Will I see you again?” he asked quietly.
“If time allows, and there isn’t a set time for this task.”
Slagg’s head drooped knowing what the monk meant, but hoped their paths would cross again.
“When do you leave for your journey?”
“I must go soon, but Slagg you have learned much and I’m very proud of your accomplishments, you will be fine.”
They spent the next day together at their favorite spot, great friends sharing good thoughts and laughs. The monk had become like a father to him all these years and Slagg became crushed in spirit and most of all, in heart.
“I want to give you this book. My father gave it to me when I was young, now it’s yours.” The monk handed it to Slagg very gingerly. “It’s quite old and worn, but the power within it’s’ pages are strong as the finest steel.” The troll held the simple leather bound book in his large muscular hands. “Thank you” he said simply. “This will hold a place of honor in my home.” He reached into his old knapsack, “I found this, I would like to give it to you.” Hanging by a chain was a dragon’s horn. It glistened in the sunbeams that shone through the tree limbs. It was simple but well crafted.
“My friend it’s beautiful.” The monk placed the chain around his neck and dropped it under his collar.
It was getting late and the time came for him to leave. The monk slowly rose from his favorite sitting rock and put his hand on Slagg’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself.” Slagg stood up and put his arms around him, hugging a little harder than he intended.
“Whoa, I need to breathe!” The old man coughed slightly.
“I’m sorry, I’m just going to miss you so very much,” whined Slagg.
“Me too my large friend,” the monk said catching his breath. They both smiled and parted ways. Slagg knew his friend needed to prepare before his long journey.
A rustling sound woke Slagg from his deep daydream. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rat-like borx lurking near. Slagg feigned sleep while putting his hand on his massive club. The creature moved slowly toward the troll’s small loaf of crusted bread. In one swift powerful move, he brought the club down hard on the borx. “No one steals a troll’s breakfast,” he mumbled to himself smiling. He picked up his book and continued reading.
Four - The Inner Sanctum
Thomas and
Zachary plodded along the road. Zach was becoming hot and tired since they took a wrong turn a few minutes back and got lost in a small wooded area. “Grandfather when are we going to stop, I am starving!”
“Well the directions show we are almost there. It’s near dusk and beautiful as the sun is starting to set, enjoy the fresh clean air.”
“I can only enjoy so much fresh clean air,” he joked mockingly. Zach stopped to pull a pebble out of his shoe and Thomas stood nearby waiting.
Look, up ahead in the distance I see a tall tower. That must be Castle Dragmar, isn’t it incredible!”
“I see it too, good we’re close to it.” At the next moment, two tiny winged creatures peeked out from behind the bushes. They were cute with speckled wings and large heads. They were almost comical as they followed them into the woods.
“We must be going the right way maybe those creatures live here.” His grandfather had jogged up ahead and Zach was now catching up with him. They both stopped and stared because an elegantly dressed man with a short clipped beard was walking towards them, arms outstretched and a welcoming smile.