The Legacy of Skur: Volume One

by L. F. Falconer

  “Power is a devious servant. It begs to be abused. And for one who is not wary, it will consume its master as swiftly as the breath of a dragon.”.....Skile

  1

  The Golden Sword

  He had left me all alone. Just like everyone else, he didn’t want me. Papa didn’t want me. Mama didn’t want me. Thank goodness that horrid old ogre, Haglin, didn’t want me! It made me shiver just thinking about him, with his big fat belly and slimy green skin that looked like it was covered with snot. And he didn’t have only two eyes—he had three—and his mouth was nearly as big as his whole head. When Blugort tried to give me to him, I had screamed like I didn’t know I could scream and it had hurt my own ears. But Haglin didn’t want me. Then Blugort didn’t want me anymore either and he went off and left me all alone in this smelly little cave.

  The last thing I remember him saying last night before I went to sleep was, “I should just goes home an’ quit draggin’ ye behinds me.” But he’d been grumbling and muttering about burdens and ingrates and wastes o’time ever since Haglin had laughed at him and sent us away, so I didn’t think too much about it. Not until I woke up this morning to find him gone.

  I hadn’t liked Blugort very much. He was the color of dirt and had that ugly brown face and was scary and kept touching me the way Papa usually touched Mama, saying something about inspectin’ the merchandise. He made my skin creep, but still, being with him was better than being all alone. At least he knew how to find food and shelter way out here in the wilds. I was thankful that Blugort had at least left me in a cave and not out on some wasteland. Even though it was a stinky old cave. And while I still had no stampers on my feet, this scratchy wool dress and cape he managed to steal from that strange little village in the forest was better than having no dress at all, like it was when he took me over these mountains the first time. When he took me to Haglin.

  When I only had my pantloons to wear, I’d been cold and shivered most of the time, except when Blugort would carry me. Then I could get warm a little bit. He hadn’t seemed scared of these mountains, but I was. Even though the Telling Place was quiet, I had learned from Papa that this was Skur, the home of the dragon. That terrible dragon that had killed my father Fane. These mountains were a place even really brave men were afraid to go, yet Blugort had not been afraid. And he had taken me over them not just once, but twice. But this second time, he went and left me here, still deep in the heart of them, and I just knew that evil old dragon was going to come find me and eat me up.

  But maybe it would be better if he did. If Ragg would just eat me up, then I wouldn’t hurt inside anymore. I wouldn’t cry anymore. If Ragg would just eat me up, then no one would ever have to not want Elva again.

  I was too afraid to go out of the cave that day, so I spent all my time inside. Sometimes I would go to the entrance and peek out, but the land around it didn’t look very nice, so I stayed inside. I could see a large part of the ground not far from the entrance that lay as dead as dead could be. It made my Telling grumble. The grass and flowers grew all around it, but for some reason that one spot was empty. It was kind of long and broad, with snaky-like arms coming from its sides. It reminded me of some big, gray spider that had been smashed flat. That patch of ground fascinated me, and almost seemed to whisper for me to come and see it, but I did not. I stayed inside the cave. It was too scary. It was scary to be all alone. It was scary to be in the Skur mountains. It was scary to have my Telling grumble. And it was scary to see that odd, desolate patch of ground. The only thing that didn’t scare me was the cave.

  Even though the cave was dark and smelled like mold, there was something comforting about the place. It was more than just a haven from the outside. It was almost like someone was in here with me, watching over me, and it made me feel safe. I couldn’t describe it, really. It was just a feeling. But along with that feeling was another. A feeling not so warm.

  Something horrible had happened here. Not in the cave. Outside the cave. Outside, in that place where no grass grew. The place that called to me.

  But even though it called to me, I didn’t go. I stayed in the cave, whimpering with the pangs of my empty belly and my even emptier heart. Everyone had abandoned me and it hurt so bad I couldn’t help but cry.

  When the sun finally went down and the cave got black and cold, I curled up against the wall, staring at the night, feeling the empty hole inside me start to fill up with something dark and crawly. Papa had wanted me dead, but Blugort had saved my life. Somehow he had tricked Papa with my nightdress into thinking I was dead. But that blastie had only saved me because he thought Haglin would want me. Even though I hated Blugort, he hadn’t killed me, even after Haglin refused me. But that ugly little brown-faced man had left me here to die! He’d left me here for Ragg. It all just made me so mad.

  But I’d show him. I wouldn’t let Ragg find me. I wouldn’t. Instead, I would go back and find my mama and papa and make them pay for what they’d done to me. I would go back home and show them that I was not dead. I would go find Blugort, too, and show him Ragg had not killed me, and then I would kill them all. I would kill them all for wishing me dead! Then they would be sorry for what they’d done. They would all be sorry.

  I was too mad and sad and didn’t sleep much that night, and when morning came again I couldn’t even try to sleep anymore. I was all achy and cold and my belly hurt from being so empty. Even though the cave felt safe, there was nothing inside it to eat. If I wanted to eat, I would have to go outside. Maybe I might be able to sneak out and find something worth eating—maybe some berries or nuts or mushrooms. Something. Anything!

  Slowly, I stepped away from the safety of the cave, peeking all around. I edged my way toward the trees and bushes, hoping Ragg was not lurking out there somewhere. My path led me close to the patch of dead ground and when I got beside it, I couldn’t help but stop and stare at it.

  Oh, how it was calling to me! So strong now. But I didn’t want to step inside it. I did not. It was dead for a reason. It was dead and it was horrible. Why couldn’t it be quiet and just leave me alone?

  “Stop it,” I shouted at that horrid patch of ground. “Stop screaming at me.”

  It was calling so loudly I had to cover my ears, but that only seemed to make the sound louder.

  I tried to step away, but found my feet instead, leading me onto the barren dirt. That’s when I saw it. Near the heart of the dry, gray, squashed spider.

  It was just a gleam in the sunlight, and I knelt beside it, scraping at the hardened dirt that embedded it. But the dirt was stubborn and refused to move, rubbing my fingers raw. I raced to the edge of the spidery patch and grabbed a small, jagged stone and returned to the gleaming thing, hacking and hewing at the dirt with the stone, clearing the hardened clods of dirt away.

  It was not the ground that called to me, but what was buried beneath it. What needed to be set free.

  A shape began to emerge as the dirt was cleared away and I could see then it was a sword. I tugged at the handle, pulling with all my might, and fell backwards to the dirt as the ground released it from its clutches. But it was not a sword at all, at least not a whole one. Somehow the blade had been broken off and all that was left was the hilt.

  It was heavy. Even without a blade it weighed as much as one of Papa’s had. I hoisted it into my arms and carried it to the dewy grass. As I carefully scrubbed the dirt away with clumps of moist grass, the luster of gold began to come into view. The encrusted dirt slowly gave way and I could see then the beautiful symbols etched upon it.

  It was majestic enough to have perhaps once belonged to a king, except these were wizard symbols. I recognized them from when Papa had shown me the wizard’s house in Avar. This golden sword had surely belonged to no king, but to a wizard. But what wizard carried a sword? There was only one I could think of. I knew then, without doubt, that this sword had once belonged to my father Fane. I stroked the hand-shield and fingered the tiny symbols and knew in my heart that truly, it
had been his.

  Yes, surely something horrible had happened here. Something so horrible that it broke my father’s sword and caused him to abandon it. But it had found me. It was at peace now, for it had found me and I had set it free.

  Weeping, I clutched it to my chest. My father’s sword had found me. And even though it was no longer useful as a weapon, I would cherish it forever, for it had belonged to him, and as long as I had it, he would be with me. It was all that I had left in the whole world.

  I sat there, weeping and hugging the hilt of the sword and didn’t hear the noises beyond the buttress of the hillside until it was too late to run. I froze in terror, knowing I was about to die. Ragg had come for me at last.

  2

  The Hunter’s Home

  It was a man upon a black horse. It wasn’t Ragg after all.

  He wore a leather jerkin, similar to what the warriors wore, but he carried no sword, just several dirks upon his belt and a bow and quiver upon his shoulder. He was smaller than Papa, but lots older, and his hair and beard were the color of the wheat fields. The ass he led behind him bore the bodies of two slain deer.

  He reined his horse to a halt and for several moments we looked at each other in surprise.

  “What are you doing here, child?” the hunter finally spoke.

  What was I supposed to tell him? That my mama and papa sent me away to have me killed? That the ugly little man who was supposed to kill me tried to give me to the ogre instead? That when the ogre wouldn’t have me, he then left me here for the dragon? Is that what I was supposed to tell him? I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t tell him anything. All I could do was hug my father’s sword and cry.

  “What is wrong, little one?” the man spoke, getting off his horse. He came near, kneeling beside me. “Why do you cry?” He was yellow and his voice was soft and gentle, like puffy white clouds, making me feel warm inside.

  He was looking at the hilt of the sword in my arms. “What is it you have there?” he asked, laying a finger upon it. I didn’t try to stop him. I didn’t feel frightened of him at all.

  “It was my father’s,” I whimpered. “But my father is dead.”

  “You are out here all alone?”

  I nodded.

  The man arose and went back to his horse, taking something from a sack hanging off the saddle. “Are you hungry?” he asked, offering what he’d withdrawn to me.

  It was half of a sweetbread pie, wrapped in larded parchment. I snatched it from his hand and began to gobble it up. Never had a sweetbread pie tasted so good.

  “Do you have kinfolk anywhere?” he asked me.

  “No,” I lied. I wasn’t about to let him take me back to Mama and Papa. Not yet. It was too soon. Someday. But not yet. Papa would just kill me again if I went home now.

  “There is no one who can claim you?”

  I shook my head. “My mother died, too.”

  The man arose, placing his hands upon his hips, staring at the sky, seemingly distressed. Then he looked back down at me.

  “I cannot leave you here or you will surely perish. Therefore, I must take you with me. Hilde will not like it, but so be it. There’s very little she likes anymore anyway.”

  “Where will we go?” I asked, pulling myself to my feet. It was difficult beneath the weight of the golden hilt.

  The hunter lifted me to the saddle, then mounted the horse behind me. “My home is in Lorane.”

  I didn’t know where Lorane might be. I was just thankful he was not taking me back to Avar.

  “Was your father hunting for the treasure?” the hunter asked as we moved over the hills.

  “Yes. He and another warrior came to find Ragg’s treasure.”

  “Your father was a warrior?”

  “A warrior and a wizard.” I couldn’t keep the pride from my voice as I spoke. “A very powerful wizard.”

  “What happened to the other warrior?”

  My voice dropped. “He was killed, saving my father from certain death.”

  “But your father died anyway?”

  I nodded. “The dragon killed him.”

  I could feel him stiffen behind me. “How long have you been on this mountain, child?” His question held an element of astonishment.

  “I don’t know, for sure.” It was not a lie. “It almost feels like forever.”

  “I would imagine so,” the hunter said. “For the dragon was destroyed two months ago.”

  I turned and stared up into his face. “The dragon was destroyed?”

  “Indeed. By the Chief Warden of Avar.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Papa had killed the dragon? Oh, I had wanted to kill the dragon! I had wanted it for so long. Now Papa had gone and done it. He had taken that away from me, too.

  A dark flame flickered inside me.

  “The king was so pleased,” the hunter continued, “that the dragonslayer was promoted to the rank of First Captain and now lives at the palace.”

  Papa lived at the palace now! Mama and Papa and Sashi and Lundin, and the new baby, of course. All of them, living in splendor at the palace with the king while I was left to die in the wilderness. All of them, living with glory and honor while I had been sent away to be killed!

  I was biting my lip so hard it began to bleed. The dark flame flickered brightly. Oh, they would pay. I would surely find a way to make them sorry. I would find a way to make them feel my pain.

  It was close to nightfall the following day when we descended the last hill and the village of Lorane came into view, nestled against the foothills on the northwestern end of the long valley that separated Skur from Avar. Lorane was larger than Avar, and the sight of it filled my heart with a sadness that burned like a rash, bringing tears to my eyes.

  The hunter eased his horse through the dusty streets and I gazed all about. Some of the buildings were like ones in Avar—the smithy, the bakehouse, the taverns. The marketplace was quiet, empty by now, and it made the one in Avar look small. Everything here was so much the same. Yet everything was so different.

  I missed my home. I missed Lundin and Sashi and Mama and Papa and Papa’s horse and Mama’s garden and my own clothes and my own bed. And I knew in my heart I would never know their comfort again. Thanks to Mama and Papa, nothing would ever be the same. Oh, how I hated them. Hated what they had done to me.

  The hunter reined his horse behind a rather large, stone house, toward a wooden barn that was just as big as the house. It was a dreary place. The yard was nothing but dust and weeds. Between the house and the barn were several smoking pits and an array of racks, hung heavily with strips of venison drying in the open air.

  A young boy with straw-like hair sat hunched beside one of the pits, poking at the coals with a stick. He gazed up at us curiously as the hunter brought his horse to a halt.

  The hunter dismounted, calling out, “Gwin, go fetch your brothers to come tend to these animals.”

  The boy dropped the stick and darted for the house, the shirt sleeve dangling loose and empty where his left arm should have been. He only had one arm! I shivered, wondering how he’d managed that.

  The hunter lifted me out of the saddle. My arms were stiff and achy by now; I’d not loosened the grip upon my father’s sword hilt all day. But even though my arms were tired, I clutched the hilt still harder as three large boys came lumbering out of the house. They stopped and stared at me. Oh, I hoped my hair was covering my ears! I’d forgotten all about them.

  “Come inside with me, child,” the hunter said, stepping toward the house. He pointed at the boys, stating, “Quit gawking and see to those animals.” The boys hurried to the ass and the horse and led them into the barn, whispering to one another.

  I followed the hunter through the door as he entered the house, fearful of straying too far behind him. I did not know this man, but he was the only friend I had right now.

  From behind a chair at the table in the inglenook, the boy of pale sky blue with only one arm crouched and eyed me. An old woman an
d two blue young girls tended to their scullery chores while another girl, slightly older and pink, sat at a spinning wheel across the room.

  “Did you find any treasure?” the old woman asked. She was moldy green and her voice was harsh and shrill. I could see the sound caused not only me to flinch, but the hunter as well.

  “What I found, Hilde, was a fine herd of deer, of which I was able to bring down two.”

  The woman called Hilde spied me then, her brow furrowing in obvious displeasure. Her graying hair was thin and wiry, as thin and wiry as her neck and arms. A beak-like nose pushed forward beneath her gray eyes and her lips were so pursed I almost thought she must have just eaten a handful of hackberries.

  “What is that?” she demanded, pointing at me. I shrank back behind the protection of the hunter.

  “She is a waif I came across in the mountains.”

  The girls in the inglenook were staring at me. The girl at the spinning wheel was staring at me. The boy with one arm was staring at me. And the skinny, shrilly-voiced Hilde was staring at me. I crept backwards until I was up against the wall and I crouched upon the floor, wishing they would all just quit staring at me.

  “Have you no brain at all, Cuen?” Hilde rang him a peal. “As if we don’t have enough mouths to feed already, you go and bring home another, and not one speck of the dragon’s treasure. We could more than use the king’s reward for its recovery, but no. Instead, you choose to hunt, when we can’t sell what we already have, and then you bring another child home to burden me with?”

  “I saw no sign of any treasure.” The hunter just sounded tired. “And I couldn’t leave the child in the mountains to die.”

  “Why not? Someone else did.”

  “No. You are wrong. She was orphaned there, not abandoned.”

  But I knew it was Hilde’s words that were true and that truth drained me. I could no longer hold Father’s sword hilt in my weary arms and it clunked to the floor.

  “What is that she has there?” Hilde asked, stepping forward, craning her neck to see.