Rogan strode briskly off and headed inland up the beach, stopping briefly only once to gaze back at Taurius as he disappeared over a dune. Now he realised that he himself had reached the point of no return. There was no going back now. And how will Taurius fare in this new land, among his own kind, he wondered? The island being a home to Mentaurs, Griffins, Harpies and others.
He scanned the dunes from horizon to horizon. There wasn't a soul to be seen, nor a sound to be heard, until a voice in his mind whispered … there is great danger on this island. The sand has ears, the hills have eyes... and he believed. Then, for a full day and night, Rogan toiled footsore and weary across an endless sea of sand and up a long winding forest track covered in shingle.
On the morning of the second day, it brought Rogan to within sight of a rocky outcropping, high on the side of an active volcano. Stopping briefly, he noticed the entrance to a cave, so he approached warily, taking care that his feet didn’t falter on the narrow ledge. Below him was a long shear drop onto jagged rocks. Reaching the cave he hesitated at the entrance, when suddenly a voice from within called out from the shadows, startling him. ‘What business have you here warrior, for this is a place of great danger?’ the voice announced hoarsely.
Rogan froze, peering into the shadows. But he could see no one. The voice called to him again, echoing throughout the halls of the cavern. ‘Are you deaf? What business do you have here?’
A Mentaur appeared in the entrance, flaming torch in hand. ‘This is a dangerous place for you to be, for the wicked creature dwelling within these rocky ramparts is pure evil. And no blue-blood hero has ever lived after casting their eyes upon it's icy stare. Be gone before it's too late.’
Rogan had no words of protest for the Mentaur's suggestion to leave. He wanted to. But he couldn't. ‘Why are you here if this place is so unsafe?’ he asked.
‘I'm your salvation,’ said the Mentaur stepping forward, blocking his path. ‘And this is the home of the mother of all evil – the Mydra – who with her terrifying stare, will turn your fleshy body and brittle bones into mushy mud.’
The Mentaur, a powerfully built creature and quite hideous, hiccupped and swayed as if drunk.
‘What is the Mydra?’ asked Rogan, speaking in a low voice like one who realizes the greatness of his peril, but has steeled his heart to meet it anyway. ‘And why are you not afraid, if I should be?’
‘The Mydra has wings and sharp claws and is so hideous that it's stare reduces the bravest heroes to mush. And I am not afraid because I am immortal, sent here by the man-gods to guard this place of peril from foolhardy treasure hunters who would try to steal the enchanted Firestar within.’
‘So, one of the Firestars is here,’ said Rogan, his eyes wide. ‘Then you must let me pass, for I am on a quest and no one may bar my way without just cause.’
‘Do you forget so quickly what I have said, blue-blood?’ the other asked sharply. ‘Are you so eager to rush to your death as all the other heroes who have gone before you? For it awaits within these rocky walls!’
‘I fear nothing and no one, including this Mydra creature,’ said Rogan staunchly, a steely glint in his eyes. ‘This Mydra – whether mortal or immortal – better beware of me.’
The Mentaur looked stunned by his remarks. ‘Are you so foolhardy in your beliefs? Even the slightest glance from the Mydra will kill you. Is this something you don't understand?’
‘I have no doubt of your sincerity,’ said Rogan with a ripple of apprehension, ‘and I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but I must enter.’
‘I admire your bravery. But you have no idea what you’re up against.' The Mentaur sighed heavily, pacing the stony ground. ‘If you do battle with the Mydra, it won’t be like fighting a great lumbering beast such as a Cyclopia, or a slow, slithering creature like the three-headed Seraphim. This living evil is fast moving and has claws so sharp that it can slice through rock.’
Rogan was a brave male. Had always been a daring male. And he concealed his fear well. But now he trembled at the vague shadowy terror known as the Mydra. He glanced about uneasily and his eyes seemed to shrink further back into his skull in visible panic. He drew a sobering deep breath of cold air and exhaled loudly. ‘Even if I were terrified of this creature you’ve described – which I’m not – I have no choice but to enter its domain. For that which I have come in search of is within,’ he said, with a dark brooding look.
‘Then enter at your own peril,’ whispered the Mentaur stepping aside. ‘The Mydra awaits you… and is impatient.’ It backed away slowly, melting into the shadows from which it had come. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you look upon the monstrous face of evil. For the outcome is as certain as the rising of the morning sun.’
The Mentaur’s words echoed eerily and faded into silence. Rogan entered the dimly lit cavern, striding boldly and purposefully towards a light at some two hundred paces away. He could see, but only just. The walls of the grotto shone with a strange green phosphorescence, and long twisted tree roots that had penetrated the soft soil above ground in huge clumps, hung in front of him like grotesque twisted bodies.
More than anything, he noticed the silence. It was deathly quiet. Other than the faint drip, drip, drip of water from somewhere up ahead, and the rumblings of a lava flow far below. But his resolve never faltered. And he forced any misgivings concerning the tasks before him from his mind. His anticipation of what lay ahead on his journey had been his driving force since the whole adventure began. In fact, sometimes he was so wound up that he could hardly contain himself – but then he thought about what he was doing right now. He stopped and shook his head. A twinge of doubt tugged at him briefly. Nothing makes sense any more, he thought. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Should I go on or turn back? He swallowed hard, started forward again and quit trying to rationalize the things he didn't understand. Then panic flooded through him again at the very thought that what he was doing wasn’t rational.
Finally, he reached a brightly lit part of the cavern and began to descend a spiral stone staircase that seemed to be endless. To his horror, there were dozens of dead warriors sprawled out on the staircase – partly melted – and the expression on each of their faces was of utter terror. Each twisted face told its own dread tale. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened and his blood chilled. ‘Damned I am,’ he muttered.
Even more frightening was the colossal corpse of a Mage Majiker chained to the rock wall. His lifeless body was cracked and twisted and he had a stare of disbelief in his sightless eyes. ‘Oh, the man-gods protect me from all evil,’ he said. ‘If a Majiker can’t overcome the thing that lives here, what chance have I?’ He couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. The dead Majiker was a pitiful and appalling sight.
Then when Rogan thought things couldn’t get any worse, a feeble, trembling voice called out to him. ‘Welcome blue-blood! I expect you’ve come to look upon my beauty?’
He closed his eyes instantly. ‘Are you the Mydra?’ he asked.
The Mydra smiled evilly, stroking her harp strings gently, sending out a fluted ripple of hypnotic sounding notes. ‘Why do you ask?’ she hissed, slithering towards him playing more mellow soothing notes.
He opened his eyes fleetingly, staring at the dead Mage. I must be mad, he thought. Then his mind snapped back and sidestepped the fear, taking him to a higher level of consciousness. ‘I'm here to claim the enchanted Firestar,’ he said drawing his sword, staring in horror at the owner of the strange guttural voice in the reflection of his blade. ‘If you are the Mydra, it’s you I must take it away from. Are you a mortal creature?’
She stroked her harp strings and laughed wickedly and mirthlessly at the prospect of another victim. ‘Are you?’
‘I'm a warrior, first and foremost and will still be one, long after you’re dead,’ he said, gazing at her reflection.
‘Will you not look directly upon my countenance?’ she hissed, flexing and squeezing her claws while playing
the harp.
‘I have no wish to look upon your vile features,’ he said calmly. ‘Give me the jewel and I will let you live. I promise.’
She laughed again. ‘Look around you warrior. Many come here. None leave!’
‘I'll leave right enough. And with the jewel,’ he said stubbornly, his dark eyes staring, unblinking and mesmerized by her incredible ugliness.
‘Do you not think that I have the advantage?’ she cackled, coldly. ‘How can you fight what you dare not look at?’
‘I’ll find a way,’ he panted breathless with fear. ‘There's always a way. These poor souls you’ve killed just didn’t see it.’
‘Then come and take the Firestar,’ she countered, beckoning him forward with her clawed hand.
Rogan had one special trick up his sleeve. He plucked an arrow from his quiver and notched it to the bowstring betwixt his fingers, superstitiously kissing the sharp metal tip for luck. He closed his eyes and listened…
‘Are you afraid, blue-blood?’ she hissed, flapping her wings, slithering toward him. ‘You should be. You're going to die!’
He took a deep breath, paused and waited, listening to her vile tones. Then he rose swiftly to his feet, eyes closed, aiming his arrow in the direction of her voice. He fired.
The arrow flew straight and true and was about to hit its mark when the Mydra deflected it with her rattling tail. However, it was so close that she could have caught it in between her crooked teeth. ‘Is that the best you can do, blue-blood? For if it is, you will see the man-gods this very day,’ she sneered.
He huddled down behind a stone pillar, taking refuge from the hideous creature’s gaze. ‘Damn,’ he whispered opening his eyes, unable to believe he’d missed. His heart raced and pounded, almost bursting out through his chest. He sighed heavily, sucking in the cold air and he composed himself. Notching another arrow to the bowstring he waited patiently. Then he closed his eyes tightly and sprang to his feet. Raising the bow, he listened for a split-second. He let fly.
Again the arrow flew straight and true. Again the Mydra's tail deflected it.
‘You tire me warrior,’ she cackled.
He huddled down behind the pillar again and drew a third arrow, loading it in the blink of an eye. He sucked in another sobering breath of cold air and sprang back to his feet. He listened, took aim and fired all in the space of a heartbeat, striking the Mydra between the eyes, mortally wounding her. Her rattling tail lashed out, wrapping around his neck. Strangling him. Choking him. He grasped it with both hands, fighting to remove it from his throat. But the more he struggled, the less he could breathe. He clutched the arrow between her eyes, remembering to keep his firmly shut.
He pushed the arrowhead further into the wound, prodding and poking, trying to kill the Mydra quicker by pulping its brain. The tail coiled tighter, its grip like steel. He struggled helplessly, his limbs getting weaker. His face was pale, his eyes full of fear. He was choking to death slowly.
Then, he heard soft whispered words. ‘A friend in need is a friend in deed. A promise unfulfilled will make you cry. A monster is a monster. And today's not a good day to die.’ A newcomer stepped forward quickly from out of the shadows, sword in hand. There was a zing in the air as he sliced through the tail. Then he sliced the Mydra's head off with a second swing of his blade.
‘Greetings,’ announced Dopiaza cheerily. He sheathed his sword and pulled a handful of wild onions and chives from his knapsack and began munching on them. ‘That’s the second time I’ve saved your skin in as many days,’ he said, unceremoniously kicking the Mydra's head down a hole in the ground. It disappeared with a dull, echoing thud.
‘Dopiaza! Am I glad to see you!' said Rogan. 'But, what are you doing here?'
The dwarf smiled. It's a rather strange tale to tell. I’m supposed to be dead, but I’m not. Well, not yet. Koki tried to kill me, by dropping a granite block on my head, but the floor caved in beneath me so, I was trapped for a while. Just lost two fingers, instead of being dead.'
‘I suppose that’s as good an explanation as any,’ said Rogan looking bewildered, ‘now to find the Firestar.'
‘Too late,’ announced the other. He spun on his heel and headed back the way he came, still munching onions. ‘The Firestar is already mine to keep. I found it more than two days ago while the Mydra was asleep. Now I bid a fond farewell, for I must be on my way, another Firestar awaits me and it grows late within the day…’ He disappeared into the shadows laughing feverishly. Rogan found it hard to believe that he had been beaten to the Firestar; after all that he had been through to get it.
The Oracle’s voice suddenly drifted into his mind. ‘Dopiaza is shrewd. What he lacks in stature, he makes up for in brainpower, and now you must use yours. You no longer have a Mage Majiker to help you, so you must find another way off this island.
The Oracle’s voice faded. Rogan stood for a moment and then strode off, leaving by the same way Dopiaza had. He shook his head stubbornly. ‘I will win this quest – or die trying,’ he whispered to himself.
Chapter 15
As a new day dawned, bird-song sweet and piping, and the subtle fragrance of wild lilies filled the morning air over the vast, rolling landscape of Brobdignag. The sun was rising over the far horizon, flickering into life, creating a glistening, orangey hue for as far as the eye could see. It was then that Kira awoke from her long sleep, remembering her bizarre dream. She had dreamt what she believed to be the answer to the riddle, told to her by Tanith.
In the dream she had seen an infant crawling on its hands and knees. A young male in adulthood walking firmly on two strong legs. And finally, an old male walking aided by a stick. ‘My dream is the answer to the riddle. The answer is a blue-blood at different stages of life,’ she said smiling. And off she went to find Tanith.
A short while later, she found her sat by the lagoon. ‘I think I know the answer to the riddle. I had a strange dream last night with a vision so clear and so vivid that it could only have been a message from the man-gods.’
Kira told Tanith of her dream.
‘It’s got to be the answer,’ the other agreed. ‘I must go and inform the Oracles. And if it is the answer, Salen’s transformation will begin soon, and be complete within the year. Then I'll have my husband back.' Tanith went in search of the Oracles and was gone for some time. Kira swam again, playing with the fish in the lagoon.
Hours passed. Then there a came a mighty roar from the bowels of the cavern and Tanith walked out into the sunlight moments later, leading Salen towards the lagoon. The earth shook under the colossal creature’s weight. ‘Come and drink,’ she beckoned. And slowly but surely the horn-crested dragon lumbered awkwardly to the water’s edge. It seemed to grin fiercely, curling its lips back, flapping its leathered wings. It folded them into its body and steam puffed in ragged geysers from its nostrils as claws and spines flared. Then with a splash it climbed down into the water beside Kira and drank thirstily.
She froze and swallowed hard when its hot breath burned against the back of her neck. Terror streaked through her, but it was a mix of panic and excitement all at the same time. She took several deep breaths to steady herself. Then she realised that this was not the same creature that had threatened and frightened her in the cave.
Surprised by its slow gentle movements she watched in silence and would have sworn that it was smiling at her. It's a strange feeling being so close to an animal of this size, knowing that it could swallow me in one quick gulp, she thought. It was a feeling that made her realise just how mortal she was.
Salen's head plunged beneath the water, swallowing several fish whole and then he
dived quickly and disappeared from view, leaving nothing to see but air bubbles dancing on the shimmering surface. A dark ominous shadow swam below her for a while, only to reappear directly beneath her, lifting her out of the water. ‘Wow!’ she said excitedly as Salen climbed out of the lagoon, splashing water up the bank-side. This was an experience she would never ha
ve expected or dreamed possible. She was actually riding on the back of a full-grown dragon.
Back on dry land, Salen lumbered awkwardly over to Tanith and made deafening
trumpeting sounds. She covered her ears. ‘Unfortunately, dragons are such noisy creatures,’ she confessed. 'But Salen is saying thank you for solving the riddle. Soon you will be far away from here. He will now take you to your next destination before returning home to me.'
‘It’s quite a nice feeling knowing you’ve put something right in the world,’ said
Kira looking thoughtful. She slid down from Salen’s back. Collecting her belonging, she dried herself and dressed quickly in readiness for her long voyage. Then she sat talking with Tanith and ate freshly baked cornbread, succulent oak-smoked wild boar and drank wine. It tasted far too sweet, but quenched her thirst. ‘It’s always better travelling on a full belly rather than an empty one,’ she said licking her lips, feeling rather pleased with herself at how the day was turning out.
Finally she stood, smiled and gave Tanith a big hug, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I must go. Goodbye and keep safe. Maybe our paths will cross again one day,’ she said, climbing up onto Salen’s back.
Salen stood patiently and silently, waiting. ‘Take me north. That’s where my destiny
lies,’ said Kira pointing the way.
Pouting her lips, Tanith began to blow while waving her hands in the air. Instantly a wild wind arose from out of the south, blowing northward, lifting Salen’s massive wings with ease, hurtling them both skyward, leaving Tanith far behind in a heartbeat.
‘Goodbye and good fortune on your long journey,’ she shouted, waving them off.
They flew into the clouds and disappeared from view.
Kira waved back and Salen flapped his wings, gaining more and more altitude. Her journey had begun again and she looked down in amazement at the many different shapes and colours beneath her. The magnificent waterfall under which she had rested and played earlier now paled in significance as they passed over towering mountains that pierced the clouds and formed a dark jagged barrier against the skyline. Trailers of mist hung over everything. She glanced about quickly. And in a heartbeat they passed over vast forests, meadows and valleys that seemed like a patchwork swatch of emerald and russet, but looked no bigger than the roofs of huts. How beautiful it all looks, she thought as Salen grunted and roared, manoeuvring gracefully through the sky, wafted ever onward by Tanith’s mighty wind.
The Blackhawks Impossible Quest Page 16