Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  “You have knowledge of the forest,” Gorliad said. “I want you to take these two kits and find them a new home with another beaver family. Can you do that?”

  Forlean looked up with a scrunched brow. “I don’t understand,” he said as he wiped his eyes.

  “Promise me this, and do it, and I will return to the mountain straight away. However, fail to do this, and I will stay right here. I may be lame, but I will prove to be more than a match for you and your drake.”

  Forlean slowly rose to his feet and looked down at the beavers. The dwarf didn’t have to ask why it mattered to Gorliad. Gorliad had shown him the beaver pond, and the fiery death of his beaver friends. The dwarf stood there, staring at the kits.

  “I cannot right the wrongs in your past, nor can you erase the challenges I have had, but we can offer these two a bit of hope. We can show them that there is more than just tradition and law in the world. There must also be compassion, should there not?”

  Forlean sniffed and nodded twice. “I will do it. You have my word.” The dwarf moved in and gently picked up the kits. “I can find you tomorrow and show you where I have placed them, if you wish.”

  Gorliad shook his head. “That is not necessary.” He stood on his feet and shook out his tail and neck. “You have proven to be a dwarf of integrity. I will remember that.”

  Forlean offered a reverent bow of his head, a sign that Gorliad had not seen in a very long time.

  The burgundy dragon then returned to the mountain.

  Algearon was standing on the platform waiting for him when he arrived. “Where were you?”

  “In the forest,” Gorliad said. “I was scouting new places to hide.”

  “To hide?” Algearon pressed.

  Gorliad nodded. “Ceadryl and the prince intend to use me as prey for their hunting lessons. I must prepare.”

  Algearon stroked his beard, but he remained unusually silent for a few moments. Finally he motioned to the mountain. “We should be getting inside. The prince is eating with the king and queen. The prince has asked that you sleep in the hall outside the upper nursery from now on. You will still be expected to get the food in the morning, however.”

  Gorliad nodded. “Whatever I may do to serve,” he said.

  Algearon looked up at Gorliad with a raised eyebrow and a surly frown on his face. “I think you should be careful,” Algearon whispered. “The prince had a different look about him when he returned.”

  Gorliad looked down with a grin. “Algearon, be careful or else you might find we are becoming friends.”

  Algearon cleared his throat and went for the pipe in his pocket. “Not at all,” he protested. “Just making an observation, that’s all.” The dwarf lit the pipe and puffed the cherry-scented smoke as the two of them made the climb to the upper nursery.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning, Gorliad made his usual trip down to the prepping chamber for the prince’s food. As always, Dalean was waiting for him with a piece of succulent meat. He ate it slowly, enjoying the flavors while the dwarves finished piling the food into the cart. They were up to a boar, a cow, and half of a ram now in total, but Dalean made sure to place the extra boar on top for Gorliad.

  The burgundy dragon positioned himself behind the cart and pushed it out into the hall. The creaking, squeaking wheels protested with every step as he took the cart to his special nook. He reached down with his head and took a bite of the succulent boar. He ripped a hunk of meat out, listening to the pleasant pops and crackles as the sinew tore apart. He swallowed the bite and went for another, enjoying his small bit of freedom.

  He did not hear the other dragons moving closer to him.

  “So, what have we here?” Ceadryl asked.

  Gorliad looked up with wide eyes, his mouth full of boar and the blood dripping over his chin. Beleriad and Ceadryl stood there, looking at him. How had they managed to sneak up on him without making any sound in the stone cavern? Gorliad finished the bite and swallowed.

  “I thought today was Leadryn’s day,” Gorliad said, grasping for anything to cut the awkwardness he now found himself in.

  “And I thought it was unlawful to steal from the prince,” Ceadryl responded with a horribly evil grin on his face.

  “I didn’t steal it,” Gorliad replied quickly.

  Ceadryl moved in and sniffed Gorliad’s bloody snout. “Looks as though you were eating from the prince’s cart. It smells like you were eating from his cart. Everything confirms that that is what you were doing. Else, why would you sneak off to this corner to eat it?”

  Gorliad thought to say it was given to him, but he knew better than that. After what Ceadryl did to the beaver pond, there was no telling what the green-backed dragon might do if he discovered a dwarf was sneaking food to him.

  “I am waiting for an answer,” Ceadryl said.

  Gorliad nodded. “I stole it, but not from the prince,” he said. “I stole it from the dwarves. Whenever I lied and said the prince needed two boars. Go on, look for yourself. There are two boar carcasses here. Call Algearon down, he will confirm that I am only supposed to order one.”

  Ceadryl looked back to Beleriad. The black prince nodded.

  “Go and fetch Algearon,” the prince said. “We will stay here.”

  “I should not leave you alone with this treacherous servant,” Ceadryl said.

  Gorliad growled. “Afraid that a cripple will beat him and then escape the mountain?” he teased.

  Ceadryl turned on Gorliad in an instant, ramming him with the back of his head and knocking him to the floor. “One day you will regret your actions, servant.”

  Gorliad smiled defiantly. “One day, I will have the pleasure of ripping your throat out,” Gorliad whispered soft enough to ensure that only Ceadryl heard him.

  Ceadryl growled, but Beleriad stopped the green-backed dragon with a simple roar. “Go and get Algearon. He will deal with this whelp.”

  Ceadryl fumed, smoke pouring out from his nostrils and mouth as he stormed off up the tunnel.

  While they waited, Gorliad stood awkwardly with Beleriad staring at him.

  “You are jealous of me, is that it?” Beleriad asked. There was no kindness in his tone, only anger.

  Gorliad remained silent.

  “You think to steal from me, trying to show me that you have power over me, is that it?”

  Again, Gorliad did not dignify the question with a response. By this time, a few dwarves began to gather from the prepping chamber below and the soup chamber higher up in the tunnel. They all came to gawk at the cripple, pinned against the wall by the prince’s stare.

  “Did I not demonstrate my dominion over you yesterday?” Beleriad shouted with a flaming roar.

  Gorliad looked to the prince, with his glaring eyes of snow. “You showed only that you are a brute. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  Beleriad moved in and whipped Gorliad with his tail. The black prince was only half Gorliad’s size, but the blow still stung, and caused him to wince. “I am your prince!” Beleriad shouted, fire spitting out into Gorliad’s face along with the words. “You are my servant, nothing more, nothing less! You have no right to judge me.” Beleriad whipped him again, this time across the lame leg. Gorliad fell to the ground in pain. “You don’t even belong in the same mountain with me!” Beleriad bellowed.

  “On that, I think we both agree,” Gorliad said as he pushed himself back up.

  “Quiet!” Beleriad blasted Gorliad with fire and whipped him several more times with his tail.

  In that moment, Algearon arrived riding atop Ceadryl. The green-back dragon bent his head low and Algearon slipped off and ran between Gorliad and Beleriad.

  “What is the matter here?” he shouted out.

  “He steals from me!” Beleriad accused.

  Gorliad shook his head. “I do not steal.”

  Algearon looked into the cart and shook his head. “There are two boar carcasses. I have ever only ordered one for the prince in the morning. Gorli
ad is not stealing from you.”

  “Then he steals from the mountain, which is still a crime against our traditions!” Beleriad shouted.

  Tradition. The simple mention of the word put a sour, solemn look across Algearon’s face. The dwarf nodded and stroked his beard. He turned back to Gorliad. “You steal from the mountain?”

  Dalean stepped forward. She cleared her throat and flattened her apron nervously before her.

  Algearon saw her and turned to her. “What do you want?”

  Gorliad knew she would admit to giving him the meat. He would not allow that. “This dwarf caught me stealing, once a long time ago when I was a fresh hatchling.”

  Algearon turned to look at Gorliad. “What are you talking about?”

  Gorliad positioned himself between Dalean and Algearon. “When I began training with you, before I was maimed, I snuck out in the mornings and stole scraps from her table in the prep chamber. I was always careful never to wake you as I did so. This dwarf caught me those years ago, and quickly put a stop to it. Later, after I was maimed and began getting food for the prince, I knew they prepared extra food. I couldn’t steal it anymore on account of my leg, so instead I always added an extra boar to the order. I told her it was for the prince. She had no idea what I was doing. I would eat the boar here, and then drop the bones off in the soup chamber. Seeing as I was only a servant by this time, the dwarves in the soup chamber never questioned me. They just assumed I was helping.”

  Algearon furrowed his brow and walked around Gorliad to face Dalean. “Is this true?”

  The she-dwarf looked up to Gorliad. Tears were visible in her eyes. Gorliad gestured for her to agree, urging her with a simple motion of his head.

  “He did steal when he was a hatchling. I caught him then, and told him it was against tradition to steal. He never returned afterward. As for the boar, he has been asking for two boars every morning. I am sorry I did not think to verify the order with you. Tradition would have suggested that he would not lie as a servant, else he would be banished for stealing.”

  “Banished?” Ceadryl echoed. “The crusty maggot should be destroyed.”

  Algearon held up a hand. “You forget your place, Ceadryl,” Algearon said. “Gorliad is a noble servant, placed in the service of the prince. He answers to me, as do you. Remember that tradition places the royal hatcher directly over all tutors and servants assigned to the crowned prince. The judgment is mine to give, and you shall be silent in the matter.”

  Beleriad stepped forward. “He shall be expelled, forever to leave this mountain. He can never return, on pain of death.”

  Algearon nodded and bowed his head low. “Regrettably, my prince, tradition dictates that so long as you are in my care, you shall be under my authority as well.”

  “He is the prince,” Ceadryl said venomously.

  “Be silent, Ceadryl,” Algearon bellowed. “I am the royal hatcher. You know the hierarchy of the mountain. You will respect my word. As for the prince, he has no right to condemn others or pass judgment until after he has mastered flight and moved into his proper quarters. Until then, he holds no such authority. That means it falls to me, and me alone, to pass judgment.”

  Ceadryl bowed his head. Beleriad sat back on his haunches and stared at Gorliad with his scarlet eyes. Gorliad took in a deep breath, trying to decipher what was happening. Then, he caught sight of Algearon reaching up to the scars on his left shoulder.

  The dwarf turned, a hint of a smile behind the surly, stern eyes. “Gorliad shall no longer serve the prince. To repay the mountain for his deceit, he will become a servant of the kitchen. He will spend his days hunting and bringing prey back to the kitchen. In this way, he will serve all in the mountain. He will eat with the dwarves in the kitchen, and he shall sleep and reside in the prepping chamber.”

  Algearon then turned back to the prince and Ceadryl. “As Gorliad now has been reassigned, you have no reason to hunt, stalk, or otherwise bother him. If I ever hear that you are so much as within two hundred meters of Gorliad, I shall have you brought before King Geldryn. Do you understand?”

  Ceadryl snorted bright orange flame through his nostrils.

  “I demand an answer, tutor,” Algearon pressed.

  Ceadryl nodded. “I understand. I shall no longer concern myself with the servant.”

  Algearon then turned to the prince. “This is a wiser punishment,” he said. “Gorliad will repay his theft, and contribute to the mountain’s survival. It is a more fitting decision, according to tradition.”

  Dalean stepped forward. “Shall I be his supervisor, then?” she asked.

  Algearon glanced between Beleriad and Ceadryl. He nodded. “He is yours to command as you will.”

  Beleriad and Ceadryl turned to leave, both fuming and steaming as they went. The other dwarves all dispersed. Algearon sent Dalean back to the kitchen, and then moved to Gorliad.

  “Still not friends?” Gorliad whispered.

  “Don’t push the limits of my patience,” Algearon said sourly. Then, he reached up and removed the bell, still covered in pitch, from around Gorliad’s neck. “You are free now, Gorliad.”

  “I am still a servant,” he said.

  Algearon looked up to Gorliad’s wings. “Well, perhaps once your wings carry you well enough, you can expand your hunting area.”

  Gorliad cocked his head. “What are you saying? Are you saying that I should claim my own territory?”

  Algearon shook his head. “Not at all,” he said. “Tradition dictates that lame dragons are to be servants only. They are not fit to inherit.” The dwarf looked up the tunnel after Ceadryl and Beleriad. “However, I will no longer be able to protect you from the prince. There will come a time when you will need to find a new home, or else he may decide to exact his revenge upon you.”

  “This advice sits well with your sense of tradition?” Gorliad asked.

  Algearon smiled half-heartedly. “I have always prided myself on tradition. I have known all of the rules, and never bent or broken any of them. Today, it was my knowledge of that same tradition that saved you from certain death, so perhaps you should give the traditions and laws the respect they deserve.”

  Gorliad nodded, and a tear rolled out from his left eye. “There is also more in this world than tradition and law.”

  Algearon reached up to his left shoulder again. “I know, Gorliad. I wasn’t the easiest to get through to, but, if you have the strength of will to show me the light, then perhaps you have enough in you to do great things.”

  “When I leave, will you come?”

  Algearon shook his head. “My place is here. I serve King Geldryn. You and I shall never meet again after this moment. Should you decide to leave the boundaries of the kingdom, you will be cut off from the mountain.” He stuck a stubby finger in Gorliad’s face. “Listen to me well and good now, Gorliad. If you do leave the kingdom, whatever you do, do not try to claim a new territory as a king. Just live your life peacefully, and in the quiet.”

  “Since when do I listen?” Gorliad jested.

  Algearon backhanded the dragon’s chest. “You will listen this time! You claim a territory out there, it will summon challengers. More than that, it will put a shame on your brother. The prince would come for you with every bit of might he could muster form these halls. He would crush you, and there will be no mercy. No law or tradition will save you then either. Better to live as an exile.” Algearon thunked Gorliad again. “Tell me you hear my words and understand.”

  Gorliad nodded. “I hear you,” he said.

  Algearon nodded and reached for his pipe. It wasn’t there. He patted his pockets, but was unfruitful in his search. “Go to the kitchen, servant, you have work to do. I will send someone else for the prince’s cart.”

  “I was right,” Gorliad said.

  Algearon looked up with a confused look. “About what?”

  “You do like me,” Gorliad said triumphantly.

  Algearon waved the notion away and started up
the tunnel, mumbling something about Gorliad’s thick head and damnable pride. He stopped ten meters away and turned around with a warning finger. “I am serious! Don’t ever, for any reason, try to issue a claim!”

  Chapter 20

  Gorliad moved down the hall and back to the prepping chamber. All of the dwarves busied themselves with slabs of meat, pretending not to notice him. That is, all but one. Dalean stood in the entrance, waiting for him.

  “Shall I go out and hunt?” Gorliad asked.

  Dalean smiled softly. “Come with me first.” She walked down the hall with Gorliad following her. She took him to a smaller chamber that had a door on it. She pushed the door and then turned back to Gorliad. “I apologize for the squeeze. We don’t usually have dragon visitors down here, but I thought you might be interested to see this.”

  Gorliad watched her disappear into the portal. The burgundy dragon then hunkered down and crawled through the opening. Luckily, the inside was much larger than the door had been. It opened up with the ceiling standing about twenty meters high, and the room was well over fifty meters long. Racks of stretched leather stood along one of the walls in neat rows. A few prized exemplars were hanging from the wall itself. A couple of brown bears, a white tiger, several wild boar skins, and even a mounted minotaur skull hung for all to see. Along the left side stood stuffed animals upon stone or wooden pedestals. There were deer, wolves, and bears. Some of the larger animals also had squirrels or minks frozen in place as if they had been running between the larger animal’s feet.

  He walked into the room, looking at each of the racks. Near the back of the room sat a dwarf. Gorliad could only see the top of his head at first. His long, curly red hair was bound behind him with a simple copper band. A pair of bushy eyebrows sat over happy, blue eyes. Before the dwarf stood a large rack, with an animal skin being stretched.

  “This is my son, Boneian. He is one of the best tanners and taxidermists in the mountain. His work is prized by all of the dwarves for the various halls and dens that are tunneled. His work adorns all of the officer’s quarters, and often he is called upon for special projects.”