Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  Gorliad nodded. “You want me to bring him some animals?” he guessed.

  Dalean smiled. “That is part of it, but I have another reason for bringing you here.” She gestured for him to come closer.

  Gorliad took a couple steps in, looking at the dwarf bobbing up and down behind the rack. Then, he noticed something peculiar. Boneian had no left arm. Gorliad moved in faster, hopping carefully between the thickening racks and stands to get a better look. Boneian had no right arm either.

  The dwarf looked up and saw Gorliad’s lame foreleg. “This is the dragon you told me of eh?” Boneian called out to his mother.

  “This is Gorliad, the once and future prince,” she responded.

  Gorliad stopped in his tracks. “I am a prince no more,” he said. “I cannot be one ever again.”

  Boneian laughed. He extended his right leg and showed a knife held snugly in his toes. “And I am no tanner,” he said. He flicked the knife out and stuck it perfectly in the center of a crosscut from a pine tree. Gorliad noticed there were scores, possibly hundreds, of holes in the board.

  “Impressive,” Gorliad commented. “You do all of this with your feet?”

  “Boneian was born without his arms,” Dalean said. “The others said he was unfit. They told me that there was no place in the mountain for such a dwarf. They called him an abomination, and told me he was only an extra mouth for the mountain to feed. They told me to throw him down the waste chutes.” Tears filled her eyes. “I saw something else in him.”

  Gorliad nodded. “How did you protect him from the others?”

  “I hid him,” she said. “I taught him to be quiet. I threw a pile of stones down the chute so everyone saw me throw away a tightly wrapped bundle. They of course assumed it was him. Later, I bought an empty room, saying that I needed storage space for the prep room. Only I hold the key to this room.”

  “Was it always this big?” Gorliad asked.

  Dalean shook her head. “No, but you are missing the point. My son built this with nothing but his feet and spirit. He didn’t let the lack of arms stop him. You are not going to let that stop you.” Dalean pointed to his deformed, lame foreleg.

  Gorliad grinned politely. “I cannot make a kingdom,” he said. “I am disinherited.”

  Dalean waved her hands away. “When you go out on your hunts, be sure to scout the areas. Eventually you will find something that will tug at your soul. When you do, don’t let anything stand in your way. You go for it, and create a kingdom where all are judged on their character and abilities, rather than the shape of their bodies or their birth order. Become a real prince. That is what you were born to be. I saw it in you the first time we met, and I see it in you still.”

  “Beleriad would never allow it,” Gorliad said.

  “Beleriad has no heart. Me, I would place my wager on the champion with heart every time. Muscle and teeth do not a prince make.”

  Gorliad nodded. He looked to Boneian once more, and then to the dwarf’s work. “It is incredible what you have done.”

  Boneian laughed aloud. “If I built this with two feet, imagine what you can do.” The dwarf winked and went back to his work.

  Dalean looked up to Gorliad. “I assume you will keep this between us.”

  Gorliad nodded. “You have ever shown me kindness,” he said. “I will show you the same.”

  “Finally, a true prince,” Dalean said. “Now, servant, go and fetch a couple of mountain sheep for me. You can find them far to the west, near the unclaimed plains.” She winked and left the room, waiting for him near the doorway. The dragon squeezed through the exit and then Dalean shut and locked the door again. “Happy hunting,” she said. “Follow this tunnel down to the bottom and you will find a special exit from the mountain. It will shorten the distance you have to carry your quarry. Also, it will allow you to come and go as you please, away from the prying eyes that stand sentry over the main entrance. Only dwarves and drakes hold the entrance at the bottom of this tunnel, and they all work for me. They are used to seeing hunters and gatherers come and go at all hours. So, just be sure to bring the animals you catch back on time and the rest should go smoothly for us both.”

  Dalean turned and started to walk but then stopped and wheeled back around. “Oh and, I have a spare black bear carcass that I was going to cut and use in the smokers. I will send that to the prince as your first catch for him. So, take your time exploring out there, and don’t forget to work on strengthening that wing of yours.”

  She bounded up the hallway without another word. Gorliad looked to the closed door next to him. What he had seen in that room was so far beyond what he imagined possible in the mountain. Yet, it felt as though everything inside he had seen was right. A dwarf valued for his skill, despite the challenges he had needed to overcome.

  That was certainly an ideal worth fighting for.

  Gorliad turned and made his way down the winding tunnel. After two hundred meters, the slope flattened out and led through a series of gates and checkpoints. All of the portcullises were open, and the heavy doors were flat against the walls, but there were a pair of dwarves at each checkpoint, standing near to a mechanism that would close down the gate or door in only a second or two should any intruders try to come through.

  Each of the dwarves nodded to him and made a note in some kind of ledger as he passed.

  “Marking my times?” he asked.

  One of the dwarves shook his head. “No, servant, just marking your description, that way when we see you limping through the halls we know you aren’t a scary mean dragon.” The dwarf and his partner laughed.

  Gorliad sighed. He should have expected that. Apparently compassion was a trait rarely found in the mountain since the laws and tradition did not mention it as a virtue.

  He continued his way out, counting several more checkpoints before he found the final gate, which was really a series of seven portcullises with a heavy set of iron doors behind them. He also noticed holes in the sides of the wall here. He stopped to look inside of one. His keen eyes found the tip of a great spear resting in the shadows of the hole. Gorliad counted maybe a dozen such holes on either wall, and half that number in the ceiling between each portcullis. A nasty fate for any foolish enough to breach through this hallway.

  He found the morning sun was already casting its warm light upon the valley outside. To his satisfaction, the trees came right up to the tunnel. He knew that was likely done to conceal the entrance from challengers, but it also worked to provide him shelter from prying eyes above. He truly could come and go as he pleased.

  “Happy hunting,” a dwarf called from the outside of the entrance.

  Gorliad looked down to the dwarf and smiled. “Indeed.”

  He walked out to the west, mirroring the path he had taken to the beaver pond so often, but purposefully staying away from that particular trail. He told himself it was to avoid Beleriad, should he and Ceadryl be stalking there against Algearon’s orders, but that wasn’t it. He didn’t want to see the beaver den, or the ghostly remains of the pond that he had shared with them.

  The burgundy dragon trekked farther than he had ever gone before to the west. He made his way out into golden plains with tall yellow grass. Without his bell around his neck he was able to walk silently enough that even with his hopping limp, he didn’t disturb the herd of elk grazing in the field.

  He thought to take one, but he wasn’t hungry. Ever since getting caught eating the boar he had not felt the sting of hunger in his stomach at all. He also had no care to bring an elk back through the woods. The effort would be difficult, hoping through the forest with an elk dangling from his mouth. Not to mention, Dalean had already offered to pay his work for the day. He needed only bring something back when he returned. And now that he no longer served the prince, there would be no one to come after him when dusk fell upon the valley.

  That settled it.

  He pushed out through the field, watching the elk run once they caught his scent. He cont
inued on until the landscape turned harsh and rocky. He saw jagged slopes to the south, with bright rocks sticking out from the ridges. He turned and dragged himself up the slope. He stretched his wings as he hopped, catching the wind in the leathery membranes. Despite the weeks of swimming after Algearon had reset his bone, his wing hurt as the wind pushed against it.

  He stopped just thirty meters up the slope. He turned and faced the valley below. He didn’t need to fly, he just needed to glide. He stretched his wings as far as they would go and took in a deep breath.

  “I am a dragon,” he said to himself.

  The wind picked up, as if it was challenging his resolve.

  Gorliad focused on a patch of poppies in the valley below. “I will land there,” he said. Without another thought, he leapt from the slope and flapped once. His wing bone was tender, shooting sharp pain down the bone, but it held firm and he rose up in the air. Then he flattened his wings and soared down. The whole flight lasted only a couple of seconds, but the wind seemed to welcome him now. He landed twenty meters beyond the patch of poppies and let out a roaring flame into the sky. It was a small victory, but it was a solid one. He had glided, without faltering.

  He folded his wings against his body. A throbbing ache grew in his wing bone. He knew that although his wing had built up strength in the beaver pond, in the air he had to lift his entire weight, and his wing was not prepared for that.

  Gorliad looked to the slope. A smile crossed his face. Perhaps just one more time.

  Up the slope he went, this time moving an additional body length up the slope before turning around. He eyed the patch of poppies and then launched into the air. As before he glided down swiftly. His smile widened and he let the wind rush through his teeth. Near the bottom, the wind picked up and cut in from the side. Gorliad tried to correct, flapping his wings to steady himself and shifting his tail. Pain ripped through his left side and he fell from the air. Luckily, this time he was able to get his feet under himself so he did not crash hard. He just landed before he had wanted to.

  His smile faded, but he was still happy with his performance. He took note of the area, deciding it would be a perfect place to strengthen his wing. Then, he walked on. Eventually he found another forest of pine. He stopped when he found a river. He moved through the waters, wading up to his knees in the cool, swift moving flow. He scanned the waters for fish, and pulled a few out for a late afternoon snack. Then he continued on.

  He tracked a doe through the woods by scent. He kept his movements short, and quiet as his handicap would allow. Eventually, after several times of spooking the deer, he was able to sneak up upon her in a thicket. He took her down and ate her, leaving only a cleaned skeleton behind for the vultures to pick at. He found a grassy clearing only a couple kilometers away and laid down to watch the sky as hues of pink and orange streaked over him. He watched and waited for the thick blackness of night to fall over him. He felt at once alive and alone. He had never spent a night outside the mountain before.

  A bright light appeared in the sky, followed by several more. Gorliad craned his neck to watch as the stars came into view. He had never seen them before. He had only ever seen the jewels in his father’s chamber that emulated them. In his estimation, all the diamonds in the mountain couldn’t do justice to the sight he beheld that night.

  He made haste back to the rocky ridge, determined to get a better view of the night sky than what the clearing afforded him. With his keen eyes he was easily able to pick his way through the forests and clearings along his path. He passed by several smaller animals that came out with the night, and a few of the larger ones as well. None of them seemed overly interested in him, or afraid of him for that matter. They all continued about their business. One porcupine did stop and fan out its quills, which Gorliad thought was a funny, trifling gesture at best, but he let the animal alone and continued on toward the ridge.

  As he climbed up the slope, he was struck by how many stars hung in the skies above him. There were thousands, no, millions! Each shining and twinkling in the sky for him to see. He marveled at them, completely captivated by their multitude and glory. The stars, in return, did not judge him. They dazzled him with their brilliance regardless of his handicap. Outside the mountain he was free from all of the traditions and law. There was nothing to bind or rein him in. He was as free as the stars.

  Gorliad spent hours watching the stars from the ridge. He saw a couple shooting stars, and looked for designs in their various positions. Then, as the middle of the night approached and all was at its darkest, he saw a strange green light form out from the south.

  He turned his head to study it. The green light waved, rolling up and down through the sky and taking on new colors and hues. Blues, pinks, and oranges and reds flowed through the light as it stretched northward from the south. The dazzling display reached out, almost directly west of where Gorliad sat. He thought to seek out the land under the aurora, for it would certainly be a most spectacular display to watch. He looked out, estimating the distance was likely several hundred kilometers beyond his father’s kingdom.

  If he wanted to see the aurora up close, he would have to fly.

  Chapter 21

  Seven years passed. With each day Gorliad grew in strength and size. His wings now carried him from the mountain to his hunting grounds, though even still he could not fly for long stretches of time without resting his wing, nor could he make more than a few trips back and forth from the mountain to the hunting grounds each day. Still, his flight enabled him to bring much game back for Dalean. He would drop it off at the entrance, and she would have a team of dwarves cart the carcasses to her prep chamber. He was now also fully grown. From tip of the tail to the end of his snout he measured fifty meters long. From the ground to the top of his shoulders he stood thirty-five meters tall. He was as imposing a dragon as had ever lived in Geldryn’s kingdom. None bothered him about his lame leg now. He also no longer hopped forward awkwardly. He had learned to move more normally, though he did still walk with a limp.

  He spent most of his nights upon the rocky ridge above the poppy field, staring at the stars. That is where he found himself this night. The clouds rolled in, obscuring his view of his beloved stars and so he moved into the poppy field below the ridge to allow himself to sleep.

  However, as he moved down he caught a glimpse of those beautiful lights he had seen seven years before. They called to him, beckoned to him. He knew he couldn’t reach them. He was not strong enough yet. Still, there was something in the light that he yearned for. He stretched his wings and flew toward the lights. He flew for as long as his wings would carry him, covering nearly one hundred kilometers before lighting upon a bald hill for a rest.

  The lights were only somewhat closer than they had been before, and he knew there were still several hundred kilometers to fly before he was beyond the border of his father’s kingdom. He looked back in the direction of the mountain. He was strong now, much stronger than ever before. Perhaps he should continue on, and not worry about returning.

  A strange sound caught his attention. He turned to see a greater dragon stalking from below in the shadows. Gorliad sniffed the wind, but the scent was not familiar. This was no dragon he had ever seen before. He let out a burst of fire and called out to the dragon. “I am Gorliad, who goes there?”

  The dragon roared back with a massive wave of yellow flames spewing forth from its mouth. “I am Demark, and I have come to claim this territory for my own.”

  Gorliad laughed. “You wish to claim King Geldryn’s mountain?”

  “No, I claim only this hill, and the lake below. I add it to my kingdom to the south. You have flown beyond Geldryn’s border.”

  Gorliad shook his head. “I have not. I have stayed parallel with the southern ridge along the border.”

  The dragon hissed a ball of sparks that exploded at Gorliad’s feet. “You have miscalculated. Look around you, servant.”

  Gorliad scanned the area and realized that h
e had indeed erred. In his haste to fly toward the light, he had not traveled due west, but more toward the south. “The south is unclaimed,” Gorliad said aloud, more to himself than to the dragon ascending the slope.

  “No, I claim the southern lands. From the north side of the lake below this hill to the dry river due south, and a span of fifty kilometers. You are in my land. You may now subject yourself to me, or perish, servant.”

  “You are no king,” Gorliad said. “You have no right to claim me.”

  “You judge me falsely,” the silver dragon said “In these lands,” Demark continued, “the only law is the law of strength. Take what you will and claim only what you can hold. This is my land, and I am in need of a servant. I am King Demark, and you are my trophy to claim.”

  Gorliad felt the flames swell within his chest. Yet, somehow he felt compassion for Demark. The silver dragon had discovered freedom for himself. Knowing how precious that was, Gorliad decided to leave the dragon to his claim. “I will return to Geldryn’s lands, and you may keep yours. Do not encroach upon Geldryn’s lands though, or else he will bring terrible justice upon you. Tradition does not allow any other than kings to claim land.” Gorliad turned to fly but Demark leapt up the remaining distance to the top of the hill, landing in front of him and snarling horribly.

  “I am a king! You are mine. Submit, or die, slave!” Demark lashed out with his tail, knocking into Gorliad’s side and tumbling him down the hill. “The Void has shown me how to triple my strength, and how to unshackle myself from my former king. Come, and taste of my might!”

  Gorliad got his feet under him and leapt off the hilltop, flying up into the air. He spewed forth a screen of blue and white flame, blinding Demark. Just as the enemy dragon turned away from the fire, Gorliad lashed out with his own tail, whipping it across the greater dragon’s face.

  “You have freedom yet would deny me my own?” Gorliad asked.