Skylantern Dragons and the Monsters of Mundor

by Scott Taylor

She bid her son to move on. The sooner they reached their quarry the sooner they could go home.

  They cantered for a quarter of an hour up those steep rises before hearing the tell tale sign of howling. Though there were no visible signs of wolves, not yet. The boy looked a little more concerned as he rode, seeing the snow, and no tracks but their own. The tall trees and conifers around them could have hidden a multitude of massacres. And little did either of them realise that they too were being hunted.

  Heavy panting peppered the air around them. Then foot falls began to follow…More panting…Snarling. The young prince panicked, digging into the flanks of his steed. He went galloping past as his mother drew her musket, and shouted to her son, telling him not to panic.

  ‘Fabian!’ she called. This whole outing, she considered, was a mistake. She should never have brought along a 14 year-old boy. But then her son was a prince after all and princes had to learn quite early of the nature of the predator, and how to deal with them.

  She galloped after him with her musket primed. The wolves were tricky, she knew these marauders well, and had battled them many times before.

  Or so she believed…

  What happened next caused her blood to freeze and the hair to rise on her neck. The few hunting dogs they had brought along barked and bayed in anxiety and agitation, bristling, and stopping dead before the site that presented itself. Fabian’s horse reared, hurling the boy from its back. This creature that had excited such sudden panic was no ordinary wolf. It was a riding wolf, and twice the size of any animal he had previously seen in these woods. Nearly the size of a horse, the wolf had its eye on Fabian. Fabian looked up, nursing his head, and saw it as it trod towards him, slowly, perceptively, its massive fangs bared. It was a large carnivore. The boy was terrified, and began to inch away on his hands and knees, his heart knocking in his young breast.

  The queen held her musket steady and fired a shot. The vicious creature collapsed to the ground, its blood turning the once virginal snows, tainting it a deep red.

  ‘Mother!’ the boy screamed out a warning. Too late. Another beast launched itself at the woman, knocking her from her steed. Another large wolf came in from the opposite direction, stalking her, its fangs tingling with the thought of the kill. It was a twin effort. The musket had been flung from her grasp and had landed somewhere out of reach. This was something no child needed to see, his own mother being mauled and carried off by wild vermin such as these. And it had all happened so quickly.

  Night fell with equal rapidity to the descent of the prey. The 14 year-old boy, unresponsive for a time, shivered and finally gave out a loud scream of confusion and pain, and terror which steadily decreased to a whimper.

  What now? Go back alone? Gather the hounds and the horses and tell the king of the tragic news? Little did the boy realize just how the king, his father, would react to this report. Little did he know how much of a coward the father would make him feel, or how much he would end up hating his own son for not standing up to the wolves. After all, these were not your average class of wolf. These were enchanted predators, creatures borne more of a dark magic than of the wilderness. And those who had not witnessed this attack were destined never to believe the ravings of a boy.

  In the thicket a wily visage glared outwards at the clearing and the boy who sat crying for his mother. For a small moment the eyes of the giant wolf and those of the human boy’s met. Strange, he thought, as there was something human about that black face, flecked with greying fur.

  Quickly, the predator had disappeared.

  Neither the wolf nor his mother was seen or heard from again. The stars stared downwards to the vast snowy tundra and blinked indifferently as they always had, and would do for many, many years to come. Freedom was swept away, along with happiness, and sadness took its icy grip over René’s kingdom, turning bitterness and blame and hardening it into something worse.

  But the face of that wolf haunted Fabian even in his dreams.

  ◆◆◆

  Over his dream state, looming high like a wraith above his bed materialized a robed figure. Forbidding and ghoul-like, the creature gestured with a translucent, depressed hand, the fingers tapering into sharp, chipped and hewn points. Shollom Vi’shiid, the master soul drinker. It was he all along who had been influencing Fabian’s dreams, bringing memories long buried to the fore. Shollom uttered a mantra in a cracked and whispered tone, its clawed, almost sallow hand motioning at the boy, trying to force the dreams upon its sleeping victim.

  The face of the victim, still trapped in the reverie, tossed from side to side, sternly trying to shake the vision.

  Fiercely, the victim awoke. Teeth clenched and perspiration clinging to his brow, Prince Fabian tried to gain control of his faculties to protect himself from the intruder.

  Shollom clenched his fist suddenly and more nightmares came flooding in to assault Fabian’s mind. Pressing his head back into the pillow, Fabian looked like he was having a seizure. He was unprepared for the sheer barrage of images that were at that moment flooding into his brain. His teeth clasped tightly as he forced his fists shut, contracting with the entourage of terror and imagery.

  ‘You killed your mother! You watched her die!’

  He could hear these words in his head being spoken over and over.

  ‘You did nothing! You are a coward! You are a freak!! You are nothing! You are an impediment! You killed your mother! You let her die!’

  ‘No! No!!!’

  The sound that he uttered from his lips suddenly was like an abrupt and unexpected wake up call. His eyes opened in a flash, though they were bright emerald and nictitating, appearing reptilian…then the vermillion tincture formed, burning like a raging, cursing fire. The creature that dwelled within the depths of his skin was awaking. His body mass suddenly increased as he grew talons from his fingers and toes, and jade scales rippled from his flesh, flipping and turning like a pack of playing cards falling back to back. The human pelt was replaced quickly with many tiny hard protective plates, all fiery rubicund, and blazing with magnificence. Shollom Vi’shiid hesitated for a moment and looked on as his powers were inverted suddenly, rebounding back on him.

  The Prince was yet again a Dragon Tolan, too powerful for the ghost that tried desperately to regain control. In this form, the Dragon Tolan prince could not be coerced or overcome.

  A brief but sonorous thunder roar from the transformed prince soon got the evil Shollom Vi’shiid scrambling for safety. He seeped through a solid wall as though it were air, desperately clambering for safety. The Dragon Tolan rolled from the bed and smashed straight through the outside wall, flexing its webbed wings, taking flight after the wraith that had attacked him.

  In the narrow street that was flanked with white washed walls and Georgian-type wooden beams, the stone man-that same strange individual Fabian had seen earlier on in the tavern-stood with a couple of his companions watching the destruction. They looked as though they too wanted a piece of the action, the way they appeared primed to attack.

  The Dragon Tolan filled the sky with fire in any case as the cowardly wraith fled. Once this menace had vanished with terror the Dragon Tolan circled, and then began to decrease in body mass, turning once again from scaly skin into soft human flesh. The young prince fell from the sky unable to maintain altitude without wings. He plummeted to earth and was caught by the man composed of stone.

  Finally the prince awoke from his ordeal, witnessing several unusual faces peering down at him. Six beings of uncommon appearance…Six faces of untold origin. Were they mutants or the men of old his mother had told him about? One of them spoke saying,

  ‘He is coming to.’

  ‘Yes’ another replied, ‘and he knows what trouble brews in the Northlands. He should be able to tell us of the private wars as brooked by our most ancient enemies.’

  ◆◆◆

  Someone else had witnessed the disturbance from a hidden location in the town. Tweak had been observing from a discreet plac
e of hiding, though he could barely believe his eyes. Yes, it was true, the Prince of Mundor was indeed a creature of the air, a terrifying monster that intimidated and threatened the good people of this world.

  Tweak had followed the prince all the way from Mundor in order to discover the truth for himself. That had been the plan in any case. The deed was no doubt going to prove trickier since Tweak was only a dwarf of sorts with some knowledge of magic, while the prince could become a powerful dragon capable of levelling an entire town. Indeed some kind of strategy was needed. Tweak unfortunately was no strategist either. Though he considered he’d cross that particular bridge when he came to it.

  Chapter 7

  Prince Fabian was helped to his feet by the man with the stone face.

  ‘Welcome stranger, Dragon Tolan’ one of the strange outsiders spoke with a friendly voice.

  The stranger had a hood that covered most of his head. The little that could be seen of his face had the tattoo of a feathered creature, a bird that encompassed the left hemisphere of his face.

  ‘Who are you? What do you want from me?’ the prince asked.

  ‘I am Justas Marl’ the tall figure replied, and instantly the tattoo on his face began to become animate, and turned into a distinct being, a small bird that flew from the man’s face, circled the narrow street just once, then returned, merging again with the face of the one who had called himself Justas Marl. That was some kind of enchanted tattoo!

  The stone man stepped forwards with a lowed, thunderous traipse. Lifting his stone hand he addressed himself as Draethor, the Man of Stone. Gingerly, Fabian raised his hand and placed it squarely in the not so inconsiderate palm of the stone man.

  The sleek feminine feline leaped up onto a chair and introduced herself as Katt Brutal, smiling cheekily. Another female stepped forwards. She was taller, bulkier than her feline friend. Iron May was her name.

  ‘You are undisciplined in the ways of magic’

  The others cast her looks as she spoke. Her honesty notwithstanding, the man they called Colonel Warclaw decided to cut the prince some slack by saying,

  ‘Don’t worry kid. As far as I’m concerned you definitely nailed it. Why, that old wraith beat a retreat so fast you’d have thought the plague was back in town’ and he laughed a hearty laugh.

  The Prince looked up. From where he stood he could plainly see the destruction that had been caused by his alter ego, the tell tale signs, the wanton destruction left behind, the fire in the marketplace, the appearance of a massive dragon-shaped hole that now adorned the side of the building where a solid wall used to be, that sort of thing.

  ‘I had no idea’ the prince felt a sudden pang of uneasiness. ‘I had no idea the Dragon Tolan had made an appearance?’

  Fabian could barely believe his eyes. He appeared mortified. The mage known to his friends as Centorionn trotted to his side. Strange was this creature, though no stranger than his companions. Centorionn’s body was segregated. The upper torso and head had the appearance of a human male while the lower half had cloven hooves and fur. He said to the prince in a mild voice,

  ‘Fear not, my young dragon, until you master the magic within you may not understand that the power is at first primal. You must learn to master the form of the Dragon Tolan. Only then will you be able to attack your opponent without the fear of collateral damage.’

  This was interesting, if a little bit disturbing actually. Prince Fabian realised that this collection of strange beings knew something about this impediment. He turned to them all, looking at each of them with suspicion.

  ‘Who are you people?’ he asked. ‘Who are you really?’

  ‘We are like nomads’ the one with the odd tattoo on his face answered with certainty. ‘We are free men. We ask so little of man, and he in turn asks so very little of us.’

  ‘Now I’m starting to get the feeling you know more about this dragon business than I do myself. You speak of magic, but all I know about it is that I’m cursed, blighted with some unknown witchcraft and if someone doesn’t offer me some adequate answers soon I’m going to call upon hell again and turn this town upside down, now tell me!’

  Justas Marl could see the agitation build in the young prince’s soul, and stepped towards him with his hands raised in a gentle, halting gesture.

  ‘Calm down, my friend. We are not your enemy and we are not the cause of your…affliction as you call it. We simply wish to help you understand…’

  ‘Help me?’ the boy interrupted, speaking like an unbeliever. ‘Why would you want to help me?’

  ‘Because you are one of us’ the stone man answered. Fabian looked at him and wondered what in the heavens he could possibly have in common with a talking lump of rock.

  ‘And because we need your help…’ Justas Marl added, ‘to restore the balance. A great and powerful enemy has risen in force and are systematically taking over the kingdoms of this dimension. They have a terrible weapon. Men of old used to call this weapon science until it was obliterated by magic. But the enemy are not of this world. They too have science and technology and know that it is dangerous and extremely potent. The enemy is known as the Sinistrom.’

  The boy looked at the stranger who would speak slander of his father’s would be allies.

  ‘The Sinistrom are not evil!’ he protested.

  ‘I didn’t say they were’ spoke Justas Marl. ‘I merely said they were the enemy. My boy, many among the Sinistrom maybe honourable, perhaps even somewhat idealistic, though there are many within their ranks who I would not trust. You know of whom I speak: they call themselves Mecha Villeforms. They are snakes. Make no bones about it…cold blooded reptiles. And they would kill all who were not like them. They would murder all non-snakes in a heart beat. The creature capable of keeping them from turning upon their masters is a man I would not trust either, and he has powers beyond imagining.’

  ‘The Mecha Villeforms were ordered to stand down’ spoke the prince finally. Concern for Marl’s warnings had finally got him to loosen his tongue.

  ‘Ordered yes, but the Mecha Villeforms are not trustworthy and neither is the monster that controls them. He is the most confusing enigma in all of this.’

  Marl looked intently at the young prince. He was a man of learning, but more accurately he was a man of experience.

  ‘All true monsters’ he went on to explain, ‘have sight, but not the courage to turn both eyes to positive action. They see entitlement as something to be taken, by force if necessary. The truest monster is bitter frustration. It is the ego twisted and warped all out of serious proportion. All higher brain functions operate in the subterranean earth. That is what makes monsters slayers, and men so monstrous.’

  The boy stepped thoughtfully away from the seven mages. Offered to reflection, he thought of his beautiful emissary of peace, Tør. At least he was absolved of the crimes of his peers.

  ‘I suppose’ began Iron May in the throws of contemplation, ‘there is only one question left that has not been raised…’

  They all looked in May’s direction as the metal plated mage looked directly at Prince Fabian.

  ‘Why are you here? What could possibly have been so important that you leave your father’s side while the enemy stands at your gates?’

  ‘I am not a coward if that’s what you are implying’ spoke the young man defensively.

  ‘I am not implying anything. I am merely asking you what is so important that you leave Mundor, to venture into a realm about which you know absolutely nothing.’

  Fabian seemed unwilling to tell May the truth since they hardly knew each other, and quite frankly none of these mages had any reason to pry into his dealings anyway. But they did appear to know about his curse however, and they did know a lot about the Sinistrom. Perhaps they were mercenaries for hire, or maybe they had a grudge against the Sinistrom.

  ‘A dragon’ he spoke eventually. ‘The people of Mundor say a dragon came to the marketplace and stole the Sinistrom ambassador.’

&nbs
p; ‘A dragon?’ Draethor chimed in with an accusing tone of voice.

  ‘It wasn’t me who took the ambassador!’ the prince uttered defensively, though somewhat uncertainly.

  ‘No’ uttered Marl upon reflection. ‘Actual dragons were all wiped out millennia ago. This dragon, of which you speak, Fabian, could not have been you. No, this creature that attacked Mundor and stole away the ambassador was evil. The Mecha Villeforms have a shape-shifter in their ranks that can mimic other forms. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if they had kidnapped their own ambassador in order to discredit your father somehow, and start a war. After all, that is your gift, is it not, to become the Dragon Tolan, my liege? Why not pin the blame on you or, that is to say, your dragon half. Makes perfect sense. It is a classic subterfuge to start a war. You are not the guilty party. This is my experience and my good sense informing me that you, my young friend, are innocent.’

  ‘Gift…? You call this what I have a gift! That is not what I call it!’ the boy corrected suddenly. ‘So what are you saying, that this shape changer came to the market looking like my dragon form, and simply carried the ambassador off, just to discredit my father?’

  Admittedly, that sounded even more fanciful and ludicrous than the idea that a real dragon had come and snatched the envoi for those same reasons. But then, Fabian remembered the accusing look on Tweak’s face back at the palace. And suddenly the picture began to fall into place. It began to make a peculiar kind of sense.

  ‘A curse can be a gift if taught to be used wisely’ the mage, Marl, assessed. ‘There are those equally who turn their gifts into curses, become masters of fate, and wield magic and power for evil ends.’

  ‘He came here looking for the enemy’ May deduced suddenly. ‘Is it not obvious? He’s hiding something—an emotion he does not want anyone to know about. He is ashamed and afraid of something.’

  ‘I came here to find the ambassador’ the prince stammered warily, looking directly at May, trying to measure her eyes, seeing if she knew the truth or not.