Erik And The Dragon ( Book 4)

by Sam Ferguson

  Erik and the Dragon

  By

  Sam Ferguson

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ERIK AND THE DRAGON

  Copyright © 2014 by Sam Ferguson

  All Rights Reserved

  For Rachel

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  The mouse was curled tightly inside the toe of the half-burned boot. It could still hear the raptors squabbling over the large beast that lay dead nearby, but at least the wolves had gone. Slowly, the mouse gathered its courage and crawled toward the opening. The mouse’s forelegs ached and twitched under its weight, and most of its fur on its right side had been singed off, but that was the least of its problems now. A shadow passed over the boot and the mouse froze. It twitched its whiskers and sniffed the air, tilting its head up toward the opening. After a minute it climbed up the back of the boot and peeked over the burnt leather. A great beast lay nearby, with its scaly tail encircling the boot. A few buzzards ripped and pulled at it from the soft underbelly, making the corpse twitch unnaturally.

  Beyond that was a field littered with bodies, many of which had been ravaged by the wolves during the previous day and night, but now the vultures were upon them, getting their fill. It was a grotesque sight, but at least the abundance of food might help the rodent escape unnoticed. It looked to the burnt house first and then to the stables. There was no sign of any person. One more quick glance back to the birds before the mouse gathered its courage and flopped over the side of the boot to land on the ground. It streaked across the dirt, running silently and as quickly as it could. It scampered into the smoldering rubble and tucked under a pile of wood. It hid there for a few moments, peering out from its hiding place and checking to make sure the wolves had in fact left. Once he was satisfied, he scurried out from the wood to find an open space. He then sat back on his hind legs and stretched up into the air, checking the scents.

  He heard a low growl behind him. He turned quickly and saw a thick furry feline tail twitching from behind a large hunk of stone. The mouse extended its right foreleg and began waving it around in front of him frantically. The cat leapt out suddenly, mouth open and sharp fangs pointed for the mouse.

  A flash of light ripped through the space and where the mouse had been, Peren sat naked and wounded. The cat landed in his lap and dug its claws into his thigh. Peren stifled a yell and ripped the cat free of him, holding it out at arm’s length by the back of its neck.

  “I must say, I don’t like cats,” Peren told the cat as he roughly tossed it aside. He rose to his feet and ran his left hand over the right side of his face. It stung and was incredibly tender to the touch. Even the open air agitated him. He looked down and saw that his right shoulder was missing the first couple layers of skin as well. He had other minor burns over his chest and torso, but at least he was alive. He only barely remembered the moment before the firedrake had spewed its fire at him, but he could still feel the heat in his skin. He had only woken up a little before dusk the previous day in his mouse form, and there was no way for him to know how long he had been unconscious. For now, he was just happy that he was able to change form fast enough to save himself. Looking around the rubble, he could only hope that the others had escaped as well.

  He shuffled through the ruins of the manor, looking for anything he could use to clothe himself with. He looked under fallen timbers, in burnt chests and wardrobes, and was eventually able to come up with a pair of scorched pants that fit a bit too tight around the waist and a pink blouse. After he pulled on the trousers and wiggled them up around his waist he held the blouse up in front of him.

  “Of all the things to survive a fire,” he muttered. “It would have to be bright pink with white lace at the end of the sleeves.” He looked at it and then down to his chest. “Nope,” he said. “I’d rather be naked.” He tossed the blouse down and left the manor to find a pair of shoes. He walked toward the waist-high stone fence and climbed over with some difficulty. Putting any weight on his right arm was excruciatingly painful. So he turned to the side and kicked his left leg up and slid across the stone wall, plopping over onto the other side without using his arms at all.

  He searched the dead soldiers and came upon a promising pair of boots. He stuck his foot out to measure against the boot’s bottom and sighed when he realized his feet were bigger. He walked on until he found another fallen soldier. This time his right foot matched the boot and he went down to pull it off. The soldier’s foot came with the boot and then Peren realized that it was a kind of prosthetic. He turned it around to look inside and found the boot filled with a “foot” made of wood which had a long stem that inserted into the warrior’s leg below the knee.

  Peren dropped the boot and agitatedly stroked the bridge of his nose with his left thumb and forefinger, trying to push back the urge to swear at the fallen corpse for not having boots he could use. After he calmed down he continued scavenging what he could until he finally found a pair of good, sturdy boots, albeit they were a mismatched pair from two different soldiers. He also managed to scrounge up a couple of copper coins, a decent sword, and a long knife.

  When he had it all put on he looked down at himself and laughed. “Mismatched boots, scorched pants, skin that looks like I slept in an oven, and a sword hanging from my belt. Yeah, I look great!” he laughed to himself. “Fit for a king!” Then he turned around and surveyed the scene one more time. He thought about looking for a horse, but he knew that was going to be a fruitless search, so instead he started walking the long road to Drakei Glazei. The only bright spot that gave courage was the fact that he did not see Lepkin, Gorin, or Arkyn among the dead. He hoped he was going in the right direction.

  *****

  Erik hiked up the rocky hill with the others. Heavy plumes of smoke and dust hung low in the air above them. Beyond the hill, Erik heard the cracking stone and popping beams. He didn’t have to reach the top of the hill to know what had happened to Valtuu Temple. Alferug and the other dwarves were rushing past on their cavedogs, shouting orders to each other as they zipped by.

  Lepkin reached the top of the hill first. He set his fists on his hips and hung his head low. Marlin was next. The prelate fell to his knees and let his arms hang at his sides. Dimwater put a hand to her mouth and gasped.

  When Erik finally caught up to them and was able to see, his heart ached within him. The pride and joy they had all felt after sending Tu’luh away with his tail between his legs was snatched from them now. The once great and mighty temple was laid low. They could see a group of other priests trying to douse the fires that Tu’luh had set, but their water spells were no match for the dragon’s flames.

  “Come,” Lepkin said soberly. “We should help them and then see if we can find any survivors.”

  Dimwater summoned a great raincloud above them and called forth the water. A column of thick drops crashed down below, attacking the hissing flames vigorously. “You go and look for survivors,” she said. “I will help them with the fire.”

/>   Lepkin reached down and scooped his left hand under Marlin’s right armpit and hoisted the man up. “Come,” he said to Marlin. “Let’s go.”

  Erik, Marlin, and Lepkin rushed forward, with Jaleal silently running behind them. The higher parts of the temple had fallen over in the direction they were approaching, utterly obliterating the portion of the wall that stood there and granting them access.

  Marlin was quick to point at a pile of rubble nearby. “There is someone under this,” he said.

  Lepkin and Erik quickly moved in and heaved the large section of wooden boards and plaster up, tossing it off of an unconscious priest that lay underneath.

  “He is in bad shape,” Lepkin said as he bent down and set a hand to the side of the man’s neck.

  “His aura is fading,” Marlin agreed.

  The priest’s back arched suddenly and he exhaled for the last time.

  Jaleal moved in close and stroked his beard. “I don’t imagine many would have survived the collapse,” he said.

  Lepkin nodded and motioned for them to keep moving. The four of them picked their way through the rubble, stopping occasionally to lift a hunk of stone or some timbers that had pinned a helpless victim underneath. Each person they found was too near to death to help, and some expired before the team could lift the rubble off of them. As they moved in closer to the main portion of the temple the rain thinned out and the smoke cleared.

  “At least the fire is gone,” Lepkin said.

  Marlin remained quiet, scanning the area. “I don’t see any others,” he said slowly.

  The majority of the tall temple had caved in on itself, crushing everything down into the cavern below. A few portions of the temple’s foundation still stood defiantly, but Erik could hardly recognize anything. The dwarves had gotten to this area a long time before the others, and they were busy carrying bodies out of the deep hole. Marlin turned away and wept and he slumped back down to his knees.

  Lepkin grabbed Erik’s shoulder and pulled him farther into the rubble. “Come with me,” he said. Erik glanced back to Marlin for a moment and then went down into the hole with Lepkin. The two of them hopped from one hunk of stone to another as they picked their way down to the bottom.

  “Watch your step,” Faengoril shouted out. “Some of this is still very unstable!”

  Lepkin nodded and pointed to a space in the rubble that was too small for him to go through. “Think you can slip in?” he asked Erik.

  “You want me to go in there?” Erik asked incredulously.

  “There is a box somewhere down here. I need it.”

  Erik looked at the hole. Jagged, splintered timbers poked through like great spears and the stone was chipped and rough. He was not going to enjoy this at all. “Couldn’t we just try to dig it out?” Erik asked.

  Lepkin shook his head. “That would take a long time, even if all the dwarves helped us. We need to get it and then be on our way.”

  “Where are we going?” Erik asked.

  Lepkin arched his brow and folded his arms across his chest. “We have a dragon to hunt.” Lepkin’s words stabbed at Erik’s heart with the touch of ice and the boy swore his heart stopped beating for a moment.

  Then, Erik looked to the hole again and nodded. He wasn’t happy about it, but it was the next logical thing to do. Tu’luh was wounded, and on the run. If they were to succeed, then now would be the best time to go after the beast.

  “What kind of box am I looking for?” Erik asked.

  “It is about this big,” Lepkin said as he held his hands out in front of him to mime a box about a foot and a half wide by a foot tall. “It is made of mithril, and has dwarvish runes across the top.”

  “Mithril?” Erik asked. He had heard of mithril weapons and armor, but never a box. “Why would someone waste that on a box?” he asked.

  Lepkin arched a brow and pointed to the hole. “We can discuss it later. For now, go and find it.”

  Erik frowned. He would have thought that his recent deeds would have earned him a better standing with Lepkin. He took in a breath of courage and slid down across a stone slab and went into the hole feet-first. He felt a sharp poke in his side and reflexively twisted away from a shard of jagged stone that jutted out from his left. He moved slowly, carefully planting his feet on any hold he could before going deeper and grabbing onto new handholds. The rain from Dimwater’s spell made everything slippery, as if it wasn’t difficult enough.

  The rubble quaked and scraped against itself. Something from above fell and dwarves shouted out just moments before a heavy hunk of stone slammed down, sending vibrations throughout the tunnel Erik was in. Erik moved faster, hoping to avoid being crushed, but he needn’t have worried. The stone and wood around the hole shook, but only a bit of dust filtered down from above.

  As he went farther into the chute, it angled out horizontally and he was forced to crawl through on his hands and knees. A couple of the areas were extremely tight, so that he had to stick his arms through first and then squeeze and pull the rest of his body through. Despite his best efforts, he could feel sharp points scraping him as he wormed through.

  Then the shaft ended abruptly and opened to a room of black stone. Erik looked down and saw some fallen timbers in a hallway below that led to the room he was above. On the other side of the black room was a door.

  Erik flipped himself around and lowered his feet and legs over the edge. Then he inched his torso over until he hung from a heavy timber with his arms fully extended. His feet dangled at least eight feet above the stone floor, but there was no turning back now. He let go and tucked into a clumsy roll as he hit the floor. He jarred his back a bit, but otherwise he was fine. He straightened up to his feet and went to the door.

  Unlike many other areas of the temple, this room was entirely plain, as was the door before him. It was made of oak, and reinforced with black iron bands, but there were no designs of ornaments of any kind to be found. Just an old, strong door. Erik put his hands on the iron ring and gave the door a pull. It didn’t move. He pushed, but again it didn’t budge. Frustrated, he yanked hard on the iron ring and the door creaked and groaned as it toppled over toward him. Erik backpedaled out of the way just in time as the heavy door fell over and broke in two on the stone floor.

  A dazzling, golden light streamed out from the doorway. Erik slowly stepped through to find a wondrous room. Four golden lamps stood around a pedestal in the center of the room. Each of the lamps burned brightly, with a white blinding flame. Erik then looked to the walls and realized that they were shining and reflecting the light.

  “Mithril walls?” he said astonished. He reached out and put a hand on the wall nearest him and felt the warm, strong metal. He then turned back to the pedestal, raising his arms to shield him from the blinding light and spy what was atop the pedestal. There he saw the box Lepkin wanted. The smooth mithril shone brightly, temptingly before him. He walked up to the box and took it in his hands. It was heavier than he had expected, but he managed alright. As he stepped back with the box the lamps died down until the flames were no brighter than those of candles.

  The box hummed and vibrated in his hands. He looked down and saw the runes Lepkin had said would be on top the box. They each glowed blue. He turned the box over, looking for the latch, or a hinge, or any way to open it. He found none. He couldn’t even see a seam or a keyhole. It wasn’t a box, but a cube of mithril.

  “Just what do you think you are doing?” a voice cried out from behind him.

  Erik wheeled around to see a short, thin man in the doorway. He bounded into the room and held his hands out expectantly. “Give me the box, right now!” he demanded.

  Erik stepped back and twisted away from the man. “No,” he said.

  The man pushed a pair of thick, blue tinted spectacles up on the bridge of his nose and he fixed his bright green eyes on Erik. “Give me the box!” he said again.

  “Who are you?” Erik asked.

  “Who am I?” the man repeated. “Who
am I?” he snorted and set a large backpack down on the floor beside him. Then he ran a hand through his curly red hair and stuck a finger in Erik’s face. “I am Tatev, the librarian.”

  Erik nodded and looked to the heaping pile of books about to fall out the top of the backpack on the floor. “Where did you get those?” he asked.

  Tatev huffed impatiently. “I am the librarian, who else should have the books?” he replied. He stepped closer and held out his hands. “Now give me the box, you don’t know what you have there.”

  “No,” Erik said. “Lepkin told me to get it, and the only way you will put a hand on it is by taking it from me.” Erik quickly thought of how he would maneuver around the golden lamps and get away. He guessed from Tatev’s build that the man was not much for physical exertion.

  “Lepkin?” Tatev repeated. He pulled his spectacles off and wiped them with the bottom of his smudged, cream colored tunic. “The Keeper is here?” he asked.

  Erik nodded.

  Tatev’s angular jaw dropped and his mouth opened into a wide smile. “Oh my,” he said as his eyes started to sparkle. “You must be him!” he said excitedly. He stuck a hand out to shake Erik’s and then quickly realized that Erik wouldn’t be able to shake hands while holding the box. “Sorry,” Tatev offered as he turned back to pick up his backpack. “I didn’t realize who you were.”

  Erik stood puzzled, watching Tatev. “Are you one of the priests?” Erik asked.

  “Yes and no,” Tatev replied. “I have been in the temple for…” he stopped and tapped a finger on his pointed chin. “Actually, I don’t remember how long I have been here,” he said. “Perhaps twenty years now. Maybe a couple more.” He shrugged. “It is sure an honor to meet you!” Tatev said.

  Erik wasn’t sure what to make of the man, so he summoned his power to discern Tatev’s intent. Even after he found no ill will in the man’s heart, he still kept a bit of a distance from him. “If you have been in the temple that long, then why are your eyes normal?” Erik asked.