D& D - Mystara 02 Dragonking of Mystara

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  Thelvyn shook his head slowly. "Five years ago they were only harassing us, playing with us. If they attack again, this time it will be all-out war, and they're going to be determined to destroy everything. We can't fight that. I still prefer to avoid an open conflict if we can."

  "I can now appreciate why you consider that so important," Captain Gairstaan agreed. "I confess I hadn't understood or agreed with your obvious reluctance to fight the dragons even after they had attacked you, nor did I agree entirely with the king's decision that we are not to drive

  them from the mountains."

  "I wanted you to understand our real goals," Thelvyn said. "I am the only one who has any real power to fight dragons, and so the entire purpose of the Highlands army must be to help me to perform my duty. If we can put on a good enough show, perhaps the dragons will be more interested in talking than fighting, and none of our people will have to get hurt."

  As a good Flaemish soldier, Captain Gairstaan was more interested in fighting Alphatians than dragons. All that Thelvyn could do now was to review the plans to fortify the Frontier and make any changes necessary. A train of freight wagons was due to leave for the north in a few days, and companies of soldiers to man the garrisons would follow.

  Thelvyn decided that he should go along as well. Since the soldiers of dukes Aalban and Ardelan would be involved as well, he wanted to talk with the dukes and their captains in person and make certain they understood their parts in his plans. The problem was that the moment the soldiers left Braejr, whether he was leading them or not, the truce with the dragons would be declared broken and Kharendaen would be obliged to depart.

  When he returned home that evening, he discovered that a package had been delivered from Byen Kalestraan. He could guess at once what it must contain, and he was rather surprised that the wizard had actually given it to him, although he supposed his decision to lead the Highlands army once again made him useful. For his own part, Thelvyn's feelings were ambivalent; the price of the cape of flight had been his companionship with Kharendaen, or so it seemed to him.

  Without taking the time to open it, he took the package up to Solveig's room so she could see it. He opened the window and called Kharendaen, who came across the courtyard to watch and listen at the window. Thelvyn untied the package and removed out the cape, which was of a rich maroon so deep in color that it looked almost black. The material was thick and dense, yet soft. He felt relieved, since the comparisons to a flying carpet had made him think of wearing a great, gaudy length of Mithlondian rug tied about his neck, complete with gold fringe. One end of the cape was fitted to go around his neck, the ends slipping into the clips on the shoulders of his armor.

  "What am I supposed to do now?" Thelvyn asked once they had the cape attached.

  "The understanding was that the cape would respond to your will, in the same way your armor functions," Kharendaen reminded him.

  With grave feelings of doubt about the abilities of the Fire Wizards, he tried to concentrate. He was as surprised as anyone when he suddenly shot straight up and hit his head against the ceiling so hard that he nearly knocked himself out. He hovered there for several minutes before he collected his wits enough to will himself to come back down. When he did, he dropped out of the air abruptly, nearly landing on the dragon's nose, protruding through the window. Solveig laughed so hard she started to cough.

  Kharendaen smiled, although she tried to speak seriously. "That at least answers one question. If you are distracted using your will to command your armor or your weapons, the cape will not suddenly fail you. That is a great advantage. Dragons have to do it the hard way. If we don't keep moving, we fall."

  "That's because of the inherent ridiculousness of your situation," Solveig pointed out. "It's never ceased to amaze me that dragons and rocs, two of the largest animals ever to exist, should be able to fly."

  "Even a hummingbird will fall if it doesn't keep moving," the dragon reminded her. "How did the cape feel, Thelvyn?"

  "The sensation was like floating in water," Thelvyn explained, rubbing his head and staring up at the ceiling. "Going up felt just like floating to the surface from the bottom of a pond."

  "With some practice, I believe you will find that the cape suits your needs perfectly," Kharendaen said. "My interest now is in knowing if the defenses of your armor protect the cape as well. I would not want you to engage a dragon in battle only to have the cape destroyed by dragonfire. If the cape failed, at least your suit should protect you from being injured in a fall."

  "I'm sure the armor will protect the cape," Thelvyn said. "Anything in contact with the suit, even another person, is protected by the armor's invisible shields."

  He teleported out of his armor, forgetting to remove the cape first, and he was somewhat surprised when the cape went right along with it. Since the cape wasn't an original part of the suit, he hadn't expected it to be included in the enchantment of teleportation. Vaguely fearful of having lost the cape, he brought the armor back and was pleased to see that the cape remained attached to the shoulder clips. At least he wouldn't be bothered by having to carry the cape about with him or spending extra time putting it on when he needed it.

  "Well, that's certainly convenient," he commented. "If the wizards of Blackmoor really were my ancestors, they certainly knew their business."

  "If the first Dragonlord had ridden about on some magical device, the dragons would certainly have remembered it," Kharendaen added. "We know so many other details about him."

  "That's just the point, isn't it?" Thelvyn asked. "I now have the same ability to fight dragons as the first Dragonlord. The cape makes all the difference in the effectiveness of the powers I command, from being merely an avoidable annoyance to the dragons to being an unavoidable threat. I can't escape the suspicion that Kalestraan had that very much in mind. Have I now become such a threat that the dragons must destroy me at any cost?"

  "I cannot see that it makes much difference," Kharendaen told him. "The Dragonlord has always been a matter of legend and nightmare to the dragons. They fear you beyond reason already."

  *****

  The first light of dawn was only just coming to the sky when Thelvyn opened the doors to Kharendaen's lair and stepped outside into the cool night air. The dragon would be leaving that morning, and since he had no way of knowing when he would see her again, he had spent her last night with her in the warehouse, just as he had so many other times in the last five years. Now, holding her head and neck down, Kharendaen crouched low to slip through the doorway as she followed Thelvyn out into the courtyard.

  "Sometimes I wish I could just fly away with you and be done with politics and kings and wizards," Thelvyn said. "There are times lately when I've wished I were a dragon like you, although I know that's impossible."

  "Even if you were secretly a dragon, you would still be the Dragonlord," she said. "And your duty would still require you to remain here. Being the Dragonlord is something only you can do, and it means too much to the entire world for you to forsake that."

  "I'll do what I must," he replied. "There's no question of that, and all the wishes in the world can't change it."

  Kharendaen shook her head slowly. "I know that we will not be apart for long, certainly not as long as you seem to fear. Nor should you allow the task ahead to concern you so much. The destiny of the dragons is beginning to unfold, but you are only one part of that. Their destiny is not your responsibility, as much as it might seem to be. Immortals are guiding these events. Follow the guidance of the Immortals and everything will be fine."

  "That sounds nice, if only the Immortals would confide in me a little more often," Thelvyn said.

  Kharendaen smiled. "If you consider, you will recall that the Immortals have always been able to make their will known to you. Perhaps not directly, but through the advice of clerics like myself, or else by guiding the path of your life in ways that made the right choices unavoidable, even when they were not obvious. Remember that a new compan
ion has been promised to you, a cleric who will help you during the time I cannot be with you."

  "Your trust must be very reassuring," Thelvyn mused. "My circumstances have never permitted me to develop such trust. Clerics have the companionship of their fellow clerics, but I've always belonged to an order of one, myself alone following the will of an unknown patron. Even in your company, I'm still alone in that respect."

  "Perhaps that, too, will soon change," she told him. "I know you have been made to endure a great deal, and I either do not know or cannot reveal the secrets of your mysteries. In that respect, I feel I have failed you utterly as a friend. Unfortunately, I cannot foresee the time when your questions will find answers."

  "You've never been responsible for my personal problems," he assured her. "It's enough to me that you care. I suppose I've taken it for granted too long now, but I realize you've been a remarkably good friend, especially considering who I am."

  "Perhaps you have not been allowed to know dragons well by knowing only me. I am not unique in that regard, as you seem to think. Many dragons are not cold and aloof."

  She lowered her head and rubbed her nose gently against his chest, the same gesture of affection she had used for as long as she had known him. Then she turned abruptly and stepped out into the center of the courtyard. Thelvyn moved out of the way quickly, taking position in the doorway of the warehouse. Kharendaen spread her wings, crouched low, and launched herself into the air. The dawn sky was still filled with stars, but Thelvyn's sharp eyes could follow her dark form easily as she circled tightly and began to climb. As he watched, she turned and disappeared into the northeast, toward home.

  *****

  The young dragon flew as low and as rapidly as he dared over the woods and hills, so that the tops of the trees occasionally raked his belly or were snapped off by the end of his tail. He hardly even needed to move his wings as he descended quickly from a high pass in the eastern mountains of Rockhome, just above the cool, wet lowlands of the Northern Reaches. His path switched back and forth quickly as he tried to stay as much as possible within the cover of the hills and stands of trees. This was a dangerous place to be, even for a dragon, and he was trying very hard to hide his fear. The land belonged to the greatest of all the renegade kings, and it was the last place the young gold dragon belonged.

  Sir George Kirbey crouched low in Seldaek's saddle and held for dear life, grateful that he was able to catch his hook firmly over the front edge of the saddle. If there was ever a place that looked like it belonged to renegade dragons, this was it. The surrounding mountains were steep, stark, and barren, all the same dull gray-brown in color. They descended into a great valley, shaped like a long oval basin set amid the mountains, filled with dense woods of tall pines with short, sparse branches that somehow always appeared wet and forlorn, as if they had just endured a terrible storm. In the very center of the valley, almost completely surrounded by a cluster of lakes of still, oily-looking water, stood a short, saw-toothed ridge of dark stone that resembled the plates of a dragon's crest.

  Seldaek demonstrated remarkable and often hair-raising skill in flying as he made his way toward the center of the valley. When he left the hills behind, he had to use the taller stands of trees for whatever cover he could find, darting rapidly back and forth, sometimes dropping down into partly clear spaces in the woods. He had chosen the time of his approach with great care. The rising sun cast long shadows that concealed him almost until he reached the very center of the valley, and there was no betraying light to glint from his gold armor. At the same time, he had to watch the distant ridge carefully for sentries. If he were spotted, his only hope would be to turn and flee like no dragon had ever flown.

  At last he landed on a low rise more than half a mile from the ridge, in a place where one of the bridges of dark, wooded land broke the ring of still lakes. He dared come no closer. He crouched down in the shadows, allowing Sir George to slip down from his saddle. The old knight walked a few paces to the top of the rise and looked about. Although the desolate land seemed to have remained empty and silent since the beginning of time, a forgotten city of the ancestors of the dwarves lay somewhere beneath the ridge.

  "I don't think you want to go in there," Seldaek said softly.

  "Of course I don't want to go in there," Sir George answered. "I just don't have much choice in the matter. I don't see much point in bringing the Dragonlord here until we know something for certain. If I don't find the collar, I at least need some evidence that these renegades were in league with the Fire Wizards."

  "I will wait for you here," Seldaek said. "When should I expect you to return?"

  "By tonight, I should hope. If I don't show up by morning, you can start to worry. And for pity's sake, don't try to come in after me."

  "I know better than that," Seldaek said, shivering. "May the Great One protect you. You are brave indeed. I don't care now what everyone says about drakes."

  "Just don't let yourself be seen," Sir George said as he began to make his way toward the distant ridge. Then he paused and turned back, staring. "What does everyone say about drakes?"

  The young dragon said nothing, but there was a mischievous glint in his eye. Sensing that he was being teased, Sir George made a disgusted sound and continued on his way.

  Although he had said nothing about it to his companion, Sir George wondered if he would even be able to get inside the caverns. Unfortunately, the drakes had been unable to tell him very much about this place. It was so old and desolate that the dragons had never learned of it, and the dwarves had forgotten it long ago. He had to search for some time before he was able to find the opening into the ancient city below. A young red dragon was sitting on a ledge far above, obviously a guard. Fortunately, the dragon's eyes were directed in the distance.

  The ancient place Sir George was about to enter was the lair of the largest and most powerful renegade band in the world. The renegades were on guard at all times against attack, but they had overlooked the seemingly preposterous possibility that someone would try to sneak inside their stronghold.

  Even so, Sir George took nothing for granted. The drakes had told him that an army of ores and other evil folk were believed to occupy the dark passages below. He was worried that the minions of the renegades might guard the entrance passage. Sir George was counting upon his suspicion that the very security of this stronghold must also be its vulnerability. Since the occupants were so confident of the city's security, there was little concern for the possibility of a spy or petty thief. Even so, he wouldn't have dared this if he hadn't had complete faith in his considerable abilities as a thief, as well a drake's ability to see in the dark. The latter came in particularly handy as he slipped along the twisted passage from shadow to shadow.

  The forgotten city was not hollowed out from the great ridge of stone rising from the center of the valley, but instead it was far below. There were conflicting legends of the origin of this place among those few who knew of its existence. Some called it Darmouk, the ruins of the last surviving city of the dwarves before the fall of Blackmoor. The dwarves themselves believed that Kagyar had created their race to cope with the new world created by the Rain of Fire.

  The entrance spiraled down into the depths. It was obvious that the renegades had widened the passage to better suit their own needs. The entrance passage opened at last into a series of large chambers that had once served as the final line of defense against invasion, and these in turn opened into the immense main chamber of Darmouk itself. The very sight of it was so impressive that even Sir George had to pause and stare in amazement.

  The main cavern of Darmouk was so vast that it made even the caverns of Dengar seem small in comparison. Unlike Dengar, it wasn't a natural cavern but a single immense, carved chamber, perfectly oval in shape, five miles in length, and more than two miles wide. The ceiling rose more than four hundred yards above the terraced floors. Great arches of white stone supported the curved dome of the ceiling. Even as formida
ble as this underground city was, the great destruction of the Rain of Fire had nearly ruined it. The tall, graceful buildings had mostly collapsed in wreckage during the fall of Blackmoor, and two large portions of the ceiling had collapsed when the supporting beams failed, crushing large parts of the city beneath landslides of stone.

  Darmouk had lain abandoned and forgotten for centuries. In recent years, it had been rediscovered by Kardyer, one of the largest and strongest red dragons in the world. He was also a sorcerer so skilled in magic that his abilities rivaled those of a gold. In his long life, he had sat on the Parliament of Dragons. But five hundred years ago, he had gone mad, defeating a series of young rogues and renegades one at a time and binding them to his will until a band of twenty-six dragons recognized him as their king. Moreover, he had gathered a small army of ores and goblins to serve him, raiding westward into Rockhome, south into the Emirates, and east into the Northern Reaches to enrich his treasuries.

  Sir George had only partly believed the tales he had been told, but now he saw that they must be true. Everywhere he saw dragons gliding over the ruined city or reclining on ledges in the distance. He could smell the ores, and he could hear their talk and evil laughter in the abandoned buildings where they made their homes. Like his young dragon companion, he was becoming more and more fearful of this dangerous place in which he found himself. He could well believe that a renegade as mad and powerful as Kardyer could come to believe that he was the Dragonking.

  Sir George wanted to be done with this as quickly as possible. He looked about the ruined city, deciding that the renegade king must make his own home in the ancient palace that sprawled atop the highest terrace in the center of the city. He needed the better part of two hours to make his way there stealthfully, careful to stay hidden in the deep shadows of the dimly lit cavern. The ores were easy enough to avoid because of their smell and the sound of their evil laughter. Deep within him, the collector of antiquities raged at the sight of this ancient relic of a lost age serving as a den for renegades and ores.