“Perhaps not,” laughed the stranger. “Forgive me, I meant no insult nor offence.”
“None taken,” sighed Ballorn. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Ah, yes. Difficult one that, I suppose you mean my name.”
“Of course I mean your name,” smiled Ballorn. “Or do you have a title? Perhaps you prefer to be called your majesty.”
“Ooh, that would be nice,” replied the stranger, “but not at all justified. No, the problem is that my native tongue is somewhat different to yours and I’m afraid you would not be able to pronounce my name properly.”
“Give me a try,” suggested Ballorn, “I might surprise you.”
“No, I have a better idea,” said the stranger. “Why don’t you give me a name? Think of all your favourite names and I shall answer to the one you choose.”
“What!” exclaimed Ballorn. “I can’t just give you a name!”
“Why not?” asked the stranger. “Your kind do it all the time. You call your friend Hunter, but that is not his name, it is what he does.”
Ballorn’s nerves were beginning to show as he tried to choose his words carefully, “I, I don’t know…”
“Don’t know what?” asked the stranger. “You don’t know that your friend is in the treetops above you, shadowing your every move? There is no need to worry, Nibrilsiem, you are quite safe. You, the hunter and the tiny ones you have hidden have no enemies here.”
“Then why don’t you come out of your hiding place? If you’re not our enemy, show yourself!”
“Firstly, you must continue on your quest,” replied the stranger. “Find the answers you seek, and we shall speak when you return. For now, that is all I will say.”
“How do I know you’re alone?” called Ballorn. “You might wait until we’re all out in the open and then attack us.” He waited a few seconds but there was no response. “Hello… hello, are you still there?” Glancing up at Hunter, he raised his arms out to his sides before pointing back the way they came.
Meeting back at Dannard and Stitch’s hiding place, Hunter climbed down to join them. “What was all that?” he exclaimed.
“You heard him,” replied Ballorn. “He won’t come out until we get back.”
“Heard who?” asked Hunter, frowning. “All I heard was your voice and a lot of growling and snarling. “Oh, I did catch one word that was not spoken by you, Nibrilsiem, whatever that means! It sounded like you were having a conversation with some ferocious beast!”
Ballorn stared at him, his face expressionless. “Do you have problems with your hearing?” he asked seriously.
“How long do you think I’d survive out here if I had?”
“But you never heard a word the stranger said?”
“Whoever this stranger you keep referring to is, never spoke!” exclaimed Hunter. “He, or it, just growled! The only discernible word spoken other than by you, was Nibrilsiem, and I’ve never heard it before!”
Ballorn was, understandably, a little confused. He sighed loudly and shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know what to say,” he announced shaking his head. “Let’s just carry on and we’ll see what happens on our way back. Dannard, Stitch, come on, let’s get a move on.”
Stitch smiled at him, “Erm, no thanks,” he replied. “Dannard and I have been having a little chat and we’ve decided to stay here. We heard that thing growling and what- not all the way back here so, we’re fine where we are. You can get us on the way back.”
Dannard wagged his finger at Ballorn, “You never said nothing about no snarly things being involved,” he said in a slightly trembling voice. “I isn’t out here to get gobbled up by some kind of beastie.”
Ballorn lowered his head and thought for a moment, before glancing up at the two nemilar cowering behind their tree, “Whoever, or whatever it is, knows you’re here,” he whispered. “But, if you prefer to remain here by yourselves, that’s your decision. Hunter and I will look for you on our return,” he glanced at Dannard, “providing, of course, you haven’t been gobbled up in the meantime.”
Dannard and Stitch stared wide-eyed at one another before quickly turning to face Ballorn.
On second thoughts…” began Stitch, “… it wouldn’t be right to allow just the two of you to continue alone, you may need our help. What if you split a seam or something awful like that? Who would sew it for you? No, we’re coming with you. No, there’s no need to thank us, it’s only fair that we stay together.”
Hunter grinned at Ballorn, “Imagine,” he said, stifling his laughter, “splitting a seam! The world would surely end after such a tragic event!”
“Let’s not go directly past the scorched ground,” suggested Ballorn. “We’ll skirt around it.” He seemed distracted, “Can you remember where that tree was when we first met?” he asked.
Hunter nodded, “That way,” he said pointing. “Why?”
“Something I need to check,” replied Ballorn.
Hunter lead the way. “That one over there,” he said as they neared the tree where he has rescued Ballorn.
Ballorn turned away and began to follow the trail of devastation that would eventually bring them closer to Lonny’s farm. His head was down as they walked, his eyes scanning the ground searching for something.
“What is it you’re looking for?” asked Hunter.
“The axe I made for Lonny,” Ballorn replied. “I have no idea what it was that came after me, but in a blind panic I hurled it as hard as I could at the beast. Something tells me it survived, don’t ask me why or how I know, I’ve no idea.”
Hunter was intrigued, “Why are you doing this, Ballorn?” he asked. “What is it that you hope to gain by coming back here?”
His answer surprised Hunter, “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s as if I have to. But I don’t know exactly what it is I’m doing… or what it is I’m supposed to do.”
Hunter rubbed his head, “Oh well, as long as we know.”
“Nobody asked you to come along,” snapped Ballorn. “You can leave if you like. I…” He took a deep breath, “… I have to do this,” he said calmly. “You do not.”
Hunter laughed, “You don’t get rid of me that easily, blacksmith. I love a good mystery and I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in many years,” he said. “Come on, let’s find this axe.”
It wasn’t long before the hunter spotted a glint of metal partially hidden beneath the churned ground. Trotting across, he unearthed the remains of the axe. The handle was no more and the steel of the head was now simply a malformed clump. The gold inlays of which Ballorn had been so proud were now unrecognisable blobs. But the silver was perfectly preserved. The intense heat that had reduced the work of art to nothing more than globs of base metal had somehow been ineffective against the precious metal. Hunter handed it to Ballorn.
“Seems I was wrong,” snorted Ballorn. “What a mess! Shame really, I was really proud of that.”
“No,” Hunter disagreed. “You were right. Admittedly, most of it is ruined, but the silver survived. Perhaps that is what you were supposed to discover?”
Ballorn pondered over their findings, “So this beast could be defeated by a weapon made from silver,” he said quietly. “But it’s impossible to hone a blade made from silver, it would never be sharp enough. Then there’s the problem of getting close enough to use it even if it were possible.”
“Easy,” Dannard said suddenly, “you makes some armour from silver and you doesn’t get frazzled by the monster.”
Ballorn and Hunter stared at one another. The annoying cooper was spot on.
“Then again…” continued Dannard, “… it wouldn’t matter anyway. If you was that close, it’d just stomp on you and squidge you, I s’pose.”
Unfortunately, Dannard was right again.
They proceeded to the farm. Nothing had changed since Ballorn’s last visit and, after a brief look around, they turned back. Even as they did, Ballorn still appeared to be searching for something.
/> “Was there something else you were hoping to find?” asked Hunter.
“A couple of things to be honest,” replied Ballorn.
“Tell us what they are and we can help you look for them,” volunteered Stitch.
“Well, there was a silver pendant that belonged to my father, but I managed to tear that from my own neck just before I hurled the axe at the dragon, so that could be anywhere.”
“And what was the other thing?” asked Stitch.
“A hammer,” replied Ballorn.
“Why did you bring a hammer?” asked Stitch.
“I take it everywhere with me,” replied Ballorn. “It’s the one I use most so it’s always tucked in my belt.”
“So, you wasn’t hoping you might be offered a few more jobs by the farmer then? Always handy when you has a bit more coin in your purse you wasn’t banking on.”
“No, Dannard, I was simply carrying it out of habit.”
“What’s it look like?” asked Stitch.
Ballorn frowned, “Seriously?” he asked. “It’s a hammer! It looks like a hammer!”
“I know that!” exclaimed Stitch. “But if we find one, how do we know it’s yours?”
Ballorn shook his head in disbelief, “How many discarded hammers do you think there are out here, numbskull? If you find one, it’ll be mine!”
Hunter took Ballorn’s arm and steered him away from the others. “I was wondering,” he said, “are we going back the way we came? To be honest with you, I’m a little concerned. I know this area well, and the lack of predators is unnatural. There are no wolves, no gemnar, nothing that you’d normally encounter out here.”
“Well surely that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” replied Ballorn. “We have enough to contend with without having to fight off wolves and things every step of the way.”
“Ordinarily, I’d agree with you,” said Hunter. “My concern, however, is with whatever you were chatting to on the way here. It was no nemilar or man you were talking to, Ballorn. If we retrace our steps, we could be in grave danger.”
“We were in danger the moment we left Krevick!” hissed Ballorn. “What if we are in even greater danger out here in the wilds? What is it that is so precious that we are looking to keep? Our lives! As far as we know, we are the only survivors, the only ones to have escaped the terror of this beast, this dragon! I’ve told you before, if you want to leave, then go. Take that pair with you as well! I’m out here to get answers, and I intend to get them with or without you! So what if the stranger kills me! At least I’ll have tried to get some justice for our people!”
Hunter lowered his head, stepped aside and stretched out his arm, “Lead on,” he instructed as he gave a slight bow.
Dannard began to chuckle, “Yeah, come on,” he said. “Let’s go and get chobbled on by a beastie.”
CHAPTER 7
They stood together, Stitch latched firmly to the back of Hunter’s waistcoat.
“We’ve returned,” called Ballorn. “Time for you to prove your word and reveal yourself.”
“About that,” came the stranger’s voice, apprehensively, “I just need to clarify something.”
“Another excuse,” sighed Ballorn. “Very well, but there are to be no more bargains. I’ll agree one last time, after that, we’re leaving!”
“I want you to make me a promise,” said the stranger. “That you will behave in a civilised manner. There is to be no screaming or silly behaviour, and under no circumstances must you attack me, or I shall be forced to defend myself and neither of us want that.”
“Why would we attack you?” asked Ballorn, flummoxed by the stranger’s request.
“Promise?”
“Yes, alright!” exclaimed Ballorn, impatiently. “We promise we won’t attack you! Now show yourself.”
There was a faint rumbling sound. The nemilar felt the ground beneath their feet tremble and shake violently enough to cause dust to fall from the nearby rock-face. Stepping back, they watched as it seemed to pulsate, a shape beginning to form clearly deep within it. Alarmed, they fell back as they were suddenly covered with silt that had erupted as a huge leathery wing stretched out above them. A body shook itself free and immediately towered over them, its neck stretching high into the air before lowering its head to reveal deep, ochre eyes that burned brightly within the dust cloud that surrounded them. A second wing now appeared as a deep rasping breath left the body of the beast as it stretched to its full height. It shuddered, freeing itself of the remnants of its rock-formed shroud. Leaning forward, it lay down before them and lowered its head. “Welcome, Nibrilsiem,” it breathed.
Ballorn stared deep into the dragon’s eyes. Strangely, he felt no fear. Despite its fearsome appearance he felt a calmness sweep over him as if they were connected in some way, as if it had always been his destiny to face this kindred spirit. He smiled.
Hunter had tumbled backwards and lay sprawled on the ground. He had heard many tales throughout his lifetime, but not a single nemilar had ever managed to convince him that dragons actually existed.
Dannard watched open-mouthed but never said a word.
Stitch too had toppled over. Chuntering to himself, he rose with his back to dragon, totally oblivious of what was happening behind him. All he cared about was that his beloved jacket was now covered in dust as he frantically attempted to brush it away. “Look at the state of it!” he whined. “It’s going to take ages to get this cleaned properly. Ballorn, look!” he said, glancing over his shoulder. He smiled briefly, “Ooh look, it’s a dragon,” he giggled, not even realising what he had said. It took a few seconds, but it soon sank in. A look of horror descended immediately. He spun around, his eyes wide in terror. “It’s… it’s… it’s… A DRAGON!” he bellowed. “RUN FOR YOUR LIVES… IT’S A DRAGON! WE’LL ALL BE KILLED!”
He had only taken three steps before Ballorn grabbed the back of his jacket. However, his legs were still pounding frantically as he tried to make good his escape. Within seconds his heels had created a groove and a dust cloud that rivalled the one that had enveloped the dragon only moments before. The sweat poured down his brow as he heard the growling behind him, terrified that he would be burnt to death or eaten at any moment.
“Brackin’ ‘eck, e’s right you know,” whispered Dannard. “It is, it’s a brackin’ dragon.”
Hunter frowned at him, “Yes, it is,” he said quietly. “And you’re not going to give a very good impression of us using language like that in front of it!”
“But it’s a brackin’ dragon! Well I’ll be grabbled!”
“Now you’re doing it on purpose,” growled Hunter.
“You promised there would be no nonsense,” sighed the dragon.
“To be fair, no I didn’t,” replied Ballorn, dismissively. “However, you must admit that only one out of four losing his nerve at the sight of you isn’t bad. I don’t think so anyway.”
“Is it upset with us?” asked Dannard. “Only it don’t sound best pleased.”
“What makes you think he’s upset?” Ballorn asked, turning to face him.
“Well I’m sure he don’t growl and roar like that when he’s in a good mood, do ‘e?”
“Dannard, what are you talking about? He’s speaking as plainly as you and I. On second thoughts, perhaps not you, but definitely as clearly as the rest of us.”
“You has gone completely bonkers you has,” snorted Dannard. “Ain’t a single word come from it, ain’t that right, Hunter?”
Hunter gave a slightly embarrassed smile and nodded gently, “I’m not sure how you’re able to understand it, Ballorn, but you’re on your own. We can’t make out a single word.”
Ballorn gave the dragon a quizzical look, “How come they can’t understand what you’re saying?”
The dragon snorted, “Because they’re imbeciles,” it replied. “They’re nothing like you, Nibrilsiem, and never shall be unless I deem them worthy.”
“Of course they’re not like me. We’re all different from
one another! Different skills, different trades, the only thing we have in common is that we are all nemilar.”
“Oh how right you are,” groaned the dragon. “Perhaps I should have introduced myself earlier. How’s the leg by the way?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject.
“It’ll be alright soon enough. I made a brace and Stitch…” his voice tailed off. “How did you know about my leg?” he asked slowly.
“Oh, please,” moaned the dragon. “I’m not blind. I can see that it is braced, so you must have injured it fairly recently.”
Ballorn peered at the dragon, “No… you knew. You knew my leg was injured before we even came here earlier. Was it you?” he asked pointedly. “Did you chase me down and attack me?”
“Certainly not!” protested the dragon. “How could you even think such a thing? Do I look like the type of dragon who would terrorise innocent travellers? I find your accusation thoroughly distasteful, Nibrilsiem.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Ballorn asked, seeming slightly agitated. “What does it mean, is it your word for stranger or something like that?”
The dragon drew back its head and stared down at the blacksmith, “I know you are small…” he said, “… but I never realised that your miniscule stature would directly affect your memory.”
Ballorn was now completely lost, “My memory? What is it that you think I’ve forgotten?”
“Why, your rescue of course. The day your…” he thought for a moment, “… parents, yes, that’s the word I was looking for. The day your parents died.”
“Well I can’t remember it, but I was told some of the other villagers found me bundled up in some bushes or under some tree roots.”
“And who put you there?” asked the dragon, leaning his head right down to the ground to face Ballorn.
“My parents did, to protect me from being trampled.”
“No,” whispered the dragon. “It was I who placed you there. And I stayed with you until you were found, Nibrilsiem. If I had not granted you the dragon’s sigh, you would surely have perished.”
Mark of The Nibrilsiem: Set before The Ascension of Karrak (The Karrak Trilogy Book 4) Page 6