D& D - Mystara 02 Dragonking of Mystara

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  Kharendaen let herself in to the great hall through the main doors, stepping cautiously in the dusty darkness. Magic lamps hanging from the walls responded to her silent command, casting a soft glow, and she soon had a small fire crackling in the massive hearth at the far end of the hall. Her dinner that night came from a supply of cured meat she carried in the pack on her harness.

  She dined alone that night among the shadows of her own past, reflecting upon a time when she had been little more than a child. She recalled winter nights when the dragons would gather in the great hall, many reclining on massive couches with open books resting upon stands before them. She remembered the nights of the dragon festivals, when they would roast elk in huge bonfires in forest glades and sing on windswept ledges in the high mountains of the Wendarian Range. The first time she had made love had been in these woods. But she had been away for a long time now, since before the day when the rogue dragons had come demanding an accounting for the prophecy they feared.

  Kharendaen sat for some time and thought about old friends while the night grew deep and cool. She had missed the company of dragons, although she had been both quietly amused and a bit dismayed to find that her status as the companion of the Dragonlord had made her something of a legendary figure among her own people. The being all dragons feared most was her friend, and they naturally took that as a sign of boundless courage on her part. Only the clerics found it possible to believe that the new Dragonlord had not been sent to harm them but to serve them.

  She felt the summons nearly an hour before midnight, sooner than she had expected. She slipped quietly out the main doors of the sanctuary into the night. The air was curiously cool and fresh for that time of the year, and the silver light of the moon seemed to flow down through the branches of the great trees. Kharendaen walked rather than flew, leaping the stream and following a path lined with white stones deep into the forest.

  The dream began more abruptly than usual. She remembered having come to the glade, but she did not remember sleep overtaking her. It seemed to her that she stepped directly into the dream as she walked along the path. After a short time, the path returned to the stream and ran alongside it for a few hundred yards before coming suddenly to a great ravine in the middle of the forest. The stream plummeted downward in a series of short waterfalls, forming small pools on each ledge before spilling over to the next as if descending steps.

  The path itself wound down into the great bowl of the ravine, snaking back and forth along the ledges of the steep walls. Trees lined most of the ledges, as if the forest above had spilled down into the ravine. The floor of the ravine was like a forest clearing illuminated in the silver moonlight, large enough for dragons to circle within the enclosing walls of stone. Images of incredibly large, graceful dragons carved from stone ringed the clearing.

  She paused at the edge of the clearing, hardly daring to enter, for the Great One himself stood before her. He had shaped himself in his most commanding form, that of a powerful dragon, much larger than any living breed, with three heads all staring at her. Then his form shifted until he took the shape of a gold dragon of great size and strength, yet silver in color, with a beautiful, immense crest that extended well down past his shoulders.

  The Great One had not manifested himself to any living dragon in the last quarter of a century. That he appeared to her now suggested something of the importance of his message. She also wondered if he might be returning at last to something of his former strength. Kharendaen approached him slowly, crouching on all fours with her long neck bent nearly to the ground so that she stared up at him.

  "Stand, my child, and do not be afraid," he assured her. "You have served me well indeed. You sacrifice your own wants and needs, deny yourself the company of drag-onkind, and stand apart from the one you love. I wish I could reward you as you deserve rather than ask more service of you."

  "I have no regrets," she insisted, daring to lift her head slightly at his urging. The return of the Great One filled her with hope and delight, but she understood that as his cleric she was among those who bore the greatest responsibility for carrying out his plans.

  "I know, little one," the Great One answered in a tone of infinite kindness. "Listen well, although there is much I cannot yet reveal to you. A time of transition is at hand. Old ways must soon be set aside and new ways embraced."

  "Tell me what I must do," she entreated him.

  "There is little that you alone can do," he told her. "There is little that even the Dragonlord can do. You at least should begin to understand the full meaning of what must come to pass. The time has come for the dragons to earn the future that I have so carefully prepared and set before them, and yet it is a future they fear."

  "I understand," Kharendaen said meekly.

  "This is the time of the coming of the Dragonking," the Great One explained. "Your role will be to serve and advise him, much as you have served and advised the Dragonlord. Soon he must take up the Collar of the Dragons and lead his people to the destiny that has been prepared for them."

  Kharendaen lifted her head, hopeful and yet fearful of the promise laid before her. "I will serve him well. But what of the Dragonlord? Must he fight the dragons, or must that battle be avoided at all cost?"

  "Your brother Marthaen knows more of this matter than even he is aware of," the Great One answered. "I believe that he will close up the rift of fear and mistrust that separates the Dragonlord from the dragons, but the Dragonlord must pay a bitter price for that. At least the price will be for the good of all dragonkind. This conflict has been unavoidable since before he was born, and it cannot be delayed much longer."

  "I know," Kharendaen replied. "But he has been my friend. I would like to be with him at such an important time."

  "You know that this is a time when a dragon cannot be in his company," the Great One told her. "The time is at hand for him to receive the companion that was promised him."

  Kharendaen couldn't help feeling sad. She had known that this was about to happen; the spirit of Arbendael had warned her of it on the night of the dream she had shared with Thelvyn. She had been promised that she would return to him, and yet she couldn't help but fear that their relationship would never again be the same. Soon the Dragonking would come, and the time of the Dragonlord would be at an end.

  "Do not despair," the Great One told her as his image began to fade. "When your days of hard duty come to an end, there will be time enough for rewards. I will speak with you again when it is time for the coming of the Dragonking."

  The Great One slowly faded away until his immense form has disappeared in the gathering darkness. In time, Kharendaen stirred and lifted her head, only to discover that she had been curled up asleep at the edge of the clearing, her long tail wrapped around her. She looked up at the stars as they gleamed in the darkness of a moonless night. Then she lowered her head and wept quietly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  On the first day of his journey south, Thelvyn was beginning to think fondly of the simple life of an adventurer. He was reminded of his days in the village of Graez, wondering if Sir George was indeed the simple trader he claimed to be or the bold adventurer that everyone had suspected him of being. When he had been younger, he had eagerly anticipated coming of age so that he could finally go off with the old knight on interesting journeys and exciting adventures. Adventures were dangerous and travel was often dull, but he still would have preferred that to his present lot.

  He was glad to be free and alone and no longer required to make a seemingly endless string of decisions that could mean life or death for armies and nations, even if he knew it was only for a few days. Thelvyn still disliked politics immensely. Learning how to play political games reasonably well hadn't helped him to like it better.

  He almost preferred being out in the field with the army, where at least he could have his way, to returning to Braejr and having to argue with an impatient king and scheming wizards. He was afraid that Jherridan might have decided to
change plans now that dragons had actually attacked his army well within the borders of the Highlands.

  He was beginning to wonder if the first Dragonlord had really possessed a magical device that had granted him the power of flight. According to the legends of the dragons, he had been a wizard of almost Immortal status. It was even possible he possessed such vast knowledge and experience in working with magic that he could fly or teleport himself at will. Thelvyn had heard tales of wizards so powerful they could fight even a mature dragon, without the need for enchanted armor or weapons, and hope to emerge victorious. He even suspected he himself might eventually possess such powers.

  The novelty of riding alone in the wild was just as fresh the next morning, although he wondered if he would still be as pleased by the time he finally reached Braejr. The one thing he missed, he realized at last, was his companions. Solveig was still recovering slowly back at his house in Braejr, and Sir George was off searching for the Collar of the Dragons. Korinn Bear Slayer had long since returned to Dengar, and his steadily increasing duties no longer permitted him to travel. Thelvyn could only assume that the mage, Perrantin, was somewhere in the city of Darokin, almost certainly with his nose in a book. Kharendaen was at least in theory now his enemy, and he had no idea where she had gone.

  It was middle of morning, and Thelvyn had been riding in the dense woods southeast of Traagen toward Braastar, the largest city in the Highlands. He had just entered a clearing in the dark woods when dragons seemed to leap out at him from every side. There were in fact only three red dragons, but in such close quarters, they seemed like an army.

  Cadence's instinctive fear of dragons was the only thing that saved Thelvyn. Terrified, the horse screamed and reared on its hind legs, catching Thelvyn unprepared, and he was thrown backward over his saddle. Cadence fled in abject terror, and in the next instant, one of the dragons passed right over Thelvyn as he lay helpless on the ground, still struggling for breath after falling squarely on his back.

  The dragon stood directly over him and seemed to have no idea where he was. The only thing he could do to protect himself was to teleport into his armor, knowing that it would protect him against being crushed. At the same time, he felt himself fighting on the very edge of his old panic at finding himself suddenly thrust into the close company of dragons. The protective shell of the armor was reassuring, calming him enough to think more clearly. He reached for his sword desperately, holding it above his chest with both hands as he engaged the hot cutting force of the blade against the leathery plate of the dragon's underbelly.

  As he had expected, the sharp, searing sting got the dragon's immediate attention. It leaped forward so suddenly that it collided with a second dragon and knocked it aside. Then the third dragon saw him, thrust its head forward, and prepared to breathe its searing flames. Still on the ground, Thelvyn lifted his sword and discharged a bolt that struck the dragon full in the face. He seized the opportunity to climb to his feet. The dragons had scattered, pausing at the edge of the woods to turn back and glare at him through saucerlike eyes. But they had apparently decided the fight was over, disappearing into the shadows of the deep woods.

  The attack was over in a matter of a few brief moments. The intent of the ambush was plain enough; the dragons had hoped to catch him unprepared and slay him before he could summon his armor. Once he had foiled their initial attack, they knew that continuing the fight was hopeless and withdrew before they got themselves hurt. The dragons obviously were learning to put aside their fury and fight him with cunning and stealth. Once they had tried something and found it did not work, they put it aside in favor of other plans.

  Trying to anticipate their next move, Thelvyn felt certain the dragons would make further attempts to catch him by surprise. He doubted that the next attack would come soon, and he was convinced it would take some other form than this last ambush in the woods. Their only real hope was to surprise him before he could get into his armor. Their legends left no doubt that they could never penetrate the magical defenses of the Dragonlord. There was only one obvious alternative. If they could not defeat the Dragonlord, then they would have to fight him as Thelvyn Fox-Eyes. Without the armor, he was nothing more than a cleric of rather unremarkable ability.

  At the moment, Thelvyn's most immediate problem was recovering his horse. The last thing he wanted was to have to walk all the way to Braastar, especially since all of his supplies were in his saddle packs. Fortunately he found Cadence nibbling the grass less than a mile away, his terror already forgotten. Cadence possessed many virtues, but they did not include courage or cleverness. Having suddenly found himself on his own, the horse simply had no better idea of what to do with himself than to wait for his master to show up.

  Since Cadence had already had time to rest, Thelvyn climbed back into the saddle and continued on his way. As he rode along the forest path, he no longer found his journey quite so peaceful now that he knew dragons could be watching his every move. He wondered briefly if he should head back north, fearful that the dragons would attack the army in his absence. But he believed that the full attention of the dragons was focused upon him. Whether or not that first attack upon the Highlands army had been sanctioned by the Parliament of Dragons, he was fairly certain that this last attack had been. The dragons seemed to have decided that their future

  depended upon ridding themselves of the Dragonlord.

  On the third day of his journey, Thelvyn rode alone and unannounced through the gates of Braejr. Within a short distance, however, and much to his surprise, his solitary ride through the streets of the city became an unexpected parade of victory. He was recognized by groups of soldiers along the street, who cheered and saluted him. The noise caught the attention of people who worked in the shops, who in turn hurried out to wave and cheer. Word of his approach spread rapidly ahead of him, and people came running from all parts of the city to line the street and cheer him as he rode past. Thelvyn decided to teleport into the armor of the Dragonlord so that he looked properly heroic.

  The celebration of his return had obviously not been prepared in advance, and Thelvyn couldn't think at first what he might have done to have earned such a resounding welcome. As far as he was concerned, his battle with the dragons had been fought to a draw, with both sides finding themselves at a greater disadvantage than they had expected, and the king's army had taken more abuse than they had inflicted. He could only guess that the people of Braejr must have heard a highly exaggerated version of what actually had occurred. He decided to accept the praise of the crowd with quiet grace, hoping that the people of Braejr would have as much cause to cheer him in days to come.

  What concerned him now was not so much what the people of Braejr thought of him, but how the king and his wizards were going to react. His falling out with Jherridan over policy had placed a severe strain on an already volatile situation, and certain things the king had said had led Thelvyn to suspect that Jherridan was quietly envious of both his power and his reputation as the Dragonlord. An unexpected celebration of his return in the streets of the city might not help matters any.

  Thelvyn was glad the day was already growing late, since that gave him an excuse to go directly home. The last thing he wanted was to lead a victory parade to the very doors of the palace, like a hero coming home to claim his reward. The cheers and shouts of the crowd only made the courtyard of his house seem all the more quiet and empty, a sharp reminder that Kharendaen was gone. A servant hurried out to take care of Cadence,

  freeing Thelvyn to go inside.

  He bathed quickly to rid himself of the dust and smells of the road. It felt good to be in clean clothes once again. By the time he came down from his room, dinner was ready to be served. He was glad to see Solveig up and about once again, even if she still moved rather slowly and stiffly. Her injuries had been so terrible that she had been slow to recover, even with the best magical healing. They talked pleasantly over dinner, but Thelvyn waited until they had retired to the den befor
e he related the events of the north in detail. He wondered how the true events differed from what had been told here in Braejr.

  "Only in detail," Solveig explained. "Your battle with the dragons seemed to have gone so smoothly that I stopped worrying about you for a couple of days. Then I began t4o think that things are never all that easy, and I began to wonder what might have gone wrong."

  "I'm not sure I follow your logic, but it led you to the proper conclusion," Thelvyn said. "That idiot cape never did regain the power of flight. I plan to have the wizards work on it to see if they can protect it against outside influence. I just wish Perrantin was here. I'm not sure those Fire Wizards are capable of making any magic that can stand up to a dragon."

  "It sounds to me as if the dragons could be much more reluctant to agree to a truce this time," Solveig remarked, shifting in her chair to ease a lingering ache. "They won't be satisfied until they've done everything they can to destroy the Dragonlord."

  Thelvyn knew he had to present himself at court early the next morning, no matter how reluctant he might be. Whatever else might be said, there were two subjects he had no intention of discussing at that time. The first was the attack upon him during his ride back to Braejr, the second assassination attempt within the Highlands and this time undeniably the responsibility of the leaders of the dragons. He was also determined not to discuss his growing suspicions that the true goal of the dragons was now to be rid of him at any cost.

  His arrival at court was treated much as his arrival in the city the afternoon before had been. Tables with pastries and breads with sweet drinks and juices were set out in the garden, and all the local worthies who could be persuaded to come at such an hour were present. The king was holding forth as gracious and delighted host, although Kalestraan seemed less pleased.