by Sam Ferguson
He saw no easy way out from this. From now on, every step he took would either carry him toward betraying Siravel and Geldryn, or failing the only friends who had ever showed him true compassion in his life. He stared at the skytes, wondering which path to choose. Then he remembered Hermean. How was Gorliad to keep his promise to those dwarves, who were now depending on him for food, if he had these two spies with him?
“Well, go on and get back to work,” Dalean shouted as she moved back around the table.
Gorliad bowed his head low and turned to leave. The skytes flew up and sat upon his back, nestled just before his wings. Perfect. Not only would the spies be with him, but they would literally be on him as much as they saw fit. He walked through the tunnel toward the exit. The first few hopping steps he exaggerated his limp, forcing the skytes to scramble for balance. He was not about to let them sit completely comfortably.
“It will be dark in a few hours,” Gorliad said as they exited the mountain. “I normally sleep outside in the forests. It allows me to catch more game in the morning, when the animals are least aware.”
The skytes didn’t respond.
“Will you remain with me, or go back in for the night?”
They didn’t respond.
Gorliad stopped and turned his neck around to look at them. “Am I supposed to catch meals for you too?”
The skytes looked to each other, and then back to Gorliad. Still, they did not speak. They dropped their head and closed their eyes.
Gorliad snorted and continued on until he came back to the clearing from which he usually took flight. He spread his wings and called out over his shoulder to the skytes. “Either hold on or keep pace,” he said. He launched into the air. Both skytes tumbled awkwardly down his spine a couple of meters. A wide grin appeared on his face.
The grin soon turned to a grimace as he felt sharp, slender claws slide under a pair of scales on his back. He turned around to see both skytes gripping under a couple of scales, holding themselves fast to his back.
Gorliad frowned and flew on toward his favorite ridge, thinking all the while whether he might be better off making meals of the little vexes. Ultimately, he decided to wait until the stars came out. The stars would give him his answers. Hermean and the others would have to fend for themselves for one night, just until he decided upon the best strategy.
When he reached the ridge, he dropped down into the patch of poppies. The cool grass already bent low, almost permanently, from his many nights of sleeping there. Few animals came through the clearing now, which allowed the rest of the grasses to grow very tall, nearly three meters in height. The tallest of the shafts sprouted seeds and resembled the wheat grown on the eastern side of the mountain. The two skytes jumped off and zipped through the dusk sky, catching bugs and small birds to fill their appetite.
Gorliad watched them fly around him. Each was as agile as a sparrow, and faster than a bat. He could see easily that they would have the speed to keep pace with him should he decided to flee. The only question remaining was their stamina. Judging purely by what he saw before him, there was no way to guess whether he could outlast them in the skies. Moreover, with two of them, he knew it was just as likely one would go back for help. No, he could not run from this. If he couldn’t run, then how would he feed Teratheal’s dwarves? They waited for him beyond Geldryn’s lands.
If he went to feed the dwarves, he would have to slay the two skytes. He could not risk letting the two spies tell his mother of three hundred kingless dwarves. She would never allow them to live. Neither would Geldryn. So to feed them, and keep his word would be to bring the dwarves a swift and merciless death. To abandon his promise would be to sentence them to slow agonizing death as they starved. Some would live, but he doubted the majority would be able to live through another winter. Even if they did, Beleriad would soon come to his mature size, and undoubtedly the news of kingless dwarves would reach him. If not Beleriad, the dwarves were sure to wander into the path of some dragon.
Gorliad looked to the west, watching the first few stars pierce the night sky and shine down upon him. Tonight there was no aurora in the south. Just the darkness dotted with the diamonds above. The two skytes soon came back to lie in the grass nearby. They each blasted a thin line of fire below them to warm the ground, and then they trampled the dirt and cuddled together.
What would happen if he killed the two spies and left Geldryn’s lands? He would be completely cut off, considered an outcast and unwelcome. Yet, wasn’t that the truth of it already? Only his few dwarf friends held any regard for him. Sure, some of the dragons now feared him since he had reached maturity and delivered Dermarak’s severed head, but none of them appreciated him that he knew of. They tolerated him at best. Most loathed him. His mind thought of Ceadryl.
The thought came to him that perhaps the two spies were nothing more than watchers, noting where Gorliad went so they could report his patterns to other dragons that would come out and attack him unawares. He wasn’t sure if his mother would order such a thing, but he knew there were some, like Ceadryl, who would jump at the chance.
Dalean’s face came to his mind. He saw her face and wondered what might happen to her. What about the dwarves in the prep chamber, they too had given him a sign of allegiance.
Gorliad sighed and slumped his head to the ground. The nearby grasses scorched under his searing breath, and the tall grass beyond bowed low in surrender. He turned his head so that his right eye could see the sky. He waited for some kind of sign, anything to help him make the decision. He rolled his head and looked to the skytes. They were snuggled together, but both looked at him.
“Are you having fun?” Gorliad asked.
No response.
Gorliad took in a deep breath and then smiled. “We could pass the time talking, if you enjoy company. However, I am usually alone, so the quiet is no stranger to me.”
One of the skytes turned around and looked away entirely. The other just stared blankly.
Gorliad lifted a wing. “I have slept here many nights. Most often there are no animals that dare come through here. Sometimes, however, there are foxes or owls that search for mice. If you wish to sleep under my wing, I can shelter you from such animals.”
“We are here because the high queen deems you a threat to the kingdom. We are not your friends, nor do we need your protection,” the second skyte said. Then it promptly turned its back on Gorliad.
“At least you can talk,” Gorliad said. “I was afraid my mother had sent mute spies to watch me, and I was concerned you wouldn’t be able to make your reports back to her.”
The skyte jumped into the air and pounced on Gorliad’s snout. “Siravel is not your mother. You would do well to remember you live only at her pleasure. Do you understand? One bad report from us and you will be slain by a multitude of sentry dragons. They will rend you apart in seconds, servant. Neither your size, nor your strength will save you.”
Gorliad thought to shake the skyte off, but no, he didn’t want the other to fly back. He must diffuse the situation and let the skyte believe he had power over him. Then, when they both turned their backs again, he would make his decision.
The burgundy dragon nodded and a tear fell from his eye. “I understand,” he said. “Please, no need to become angry. It is simply an old habit.”
“You should cease such habits,” the skyte said. “Speaking as if you are still her son would imply you are trying to reach beyond your station. Do you hold such intentions?”
The skyte was more aggressive than Gorliad had anticipated. It dug its talons under a couple of scales on Gorliad’s snouts and squeezed while staring him in the eye. It was almost as if it was trying to provoke an attack so the other could return and report it.
Gorliad relaxed and looked away with his eyes. “I have no intentions to reach beyond what I am,” he said. He then exhaled a long, sad breath. The skyte turned and flew to the other, making a show of keeping his back to the burgundy dragon. Gorliad wept,
only partly to let the skytes believe they had the upper hand. He thought of the first few weeks and years of his life, when he had had all he wanted. He never asked to be a king, or a prince for that matter. All he wanted was what he had had before. Friends, and family.
Algearon’s words returned to him then. “A prince has no friends.” Well, it appeared that neither did a servant. What good was a mountain where all had stations and places but none had true relations or interactions? How much good could serving the mountain do if none were allowed to love? Servant or prince? There was no freedom in Geldryn’s mountain.
The burgundy dragon then realized what it was his heart yearned for all these years. He looked to the west again. He wasn’t sure it would work, but it was possible that he could find the missing piece of his soul with Teratheal’s dwarves. They were kingless, living without the binds of tradition. They had no king, no chief, and yet they had survived in the wilderness for three decades, despite all the dangers that abounded. He knew he would miss Dalean, and even Algearon, yet he believed his future was not in the mountain. At only thirty years of age, he had centuries, eons even, left to live. Would he spend those years in the shadow of Geldryn’s mountain?
He looked to his right. The skytes still were facing the other way. With a fluid, silent movement he whipped his tail down across the small dragons, crushing their wings and nearly severing their spines. They tried to stand and run, but their legs had been broken in the attack as well. Gorliad didn’t let them suffer or cry out for long. His snout of sword-like fangs closed around them, finishing them quickly.
Gorliad then turned to the west and flew out to find Hermean. However long it would take for Ceadryl, or Beleriad, to find him, he was going to live free. He was lame, less than a dragon by all rights, but he knew he was more than a servant. That was one name he would never answer to again.
Chapter 23
It was near midnight by the time Gorliad reached the icy tundra where he had led Hermean. He flew above the hills where they had found the caves, blowing a signal flame out from his mouth. A long green flame to identify himself in the dark. Then he landed before the tunnel Hermean had claimed as his own. The ice and snow crunched under the dragon’s weight. The cold chill bit at his feet and the bottom of his tail. He let his inner fires burn hotter to stave off the frigid cold.
Hermean emerged from the small cave, riding atop his drake.
“I did not expect to see you until tomorrow morning,” Hermean called out.
Gorliad bent his head low. “I am afraid we must move farther west,” he said. “The high queen will begin hunting me soon.”
Hermean shook a fist at him. “You said you would help us!”
Gorliad nodded. “And help you I shall, but not here.”
“You bring danger to us. We were fine until you showed up.” Hermean turned back to the cave and shook his head. “I will lead them east.”
“That would be closer to Geldryn’s lands. You and I both know they will not allow you to live if you are caught.”
“We are dwarves! We can’t go out west into the ice and snow. How are we supposed to survive such a waste?”
Gorliad snorted angrily. “We are wasting time arguing. We should be moving. Trust when I say there are caribou herds to the west.”
“Caribou means snow leopards, and there might be ice trolls out there too.”
“Frost giants as well,” Gorliad said.
Hermean leapt from atop the drake and kicked a snow pile. “So, what happened?”
“The high queen assigned two skytes to follow me,” Gorliad said. “There would have been no way for me to help bring food to you. I couldn’t very well leave you here either, knowing that Beleriad will likely begin patrolling Dermarak’s land. You would have been forced east for food, and then he would have found you.”
“Well,” Hermean said with a tug of his beard. “If she had spies assigned to you, then you were likely not much longer for this world either. Given the way she sent me and Brinwal after Teratheal’s dwarves, I don’t doubt that you would have been dealt with eventually.”
“I did what I felt was right, for you, and for me. No more living as a servant. We move on to find a new home.”
“Sure, but I didn’t think you would be joining us permanently,” Hermean admitted.
Gorliad chuckled. “We need to move.”
“Due west then?” Hermean asked.
Just then a bright, beautiful aurora sprouted in the southwest, stretching and growing brighter by the second. The waving lights caught both of their gazes.
“No,” Gorliad said. “We aim for the light.”
“The south will be even harsher than the west,” Hermean said.
“Then we shall tame it with the fire in our hearts,” Gorliad replied.
“Ha,” Hermean snorted. “That’s easy for you to say, but the rest of us are dwarves. We are not born with fire.”
“If that were true, good dwarf, then you would have followed Siravel’s command and killed Teratheal’s dwarves.” Gorliad jumped into the air. “Have the drakes fly in small circles, scouting for danger. I will fly out ahead of the group and scout our path. Are we agreed?”
Hermean looked up and cocked his head. “You are a dragon, what matter is it whether I agree?”
Gorliad spit fire through the sky. “Because, we go to make a home with no servants. To do that, we must weigh in together. Do you agree?”
Hermean nodded. “I will ride upon my drake. There are others who can lead by foot. I am better in the sky. I will fly with the drakes.”
Gorliad nodded and roared. He flew off toward the aurora, leaving Hermean to rush inside the cave and rouse the dwarves.
The burgundy dragon flew out for an hour over the icy tundra. Wisps of snow and frost swirled below him in the wind. He saw a pair of wolves, out scouting for food. He let them be. They would not attack a group of three hundred. Even if the wolves would be so daring, the drake would be able to fend them off easily. Onward he flew, soaring through the chilling wind and watching the tundra give rise to hills and smaller mountains. These he circled, checking for anything that would pose a threat to the group.
When he spotted a fairly large cave, he decided to drop down on the mountain and investigate. The ledge shook and ice broke off to fall below. Gorliad stuck his head into the cave and let out a gentle breath of flame. The yellow light illuminated a jagged-walled cave, wide and tall enough for him to fit inside without crawling, yet there were no obvious signs of life. He had seen nothing outside the cave, as he would expect should this be a dragon nest.
He sniffed the musty, cool air.
His nostrils pulled in an odor he was unfamiliar with. He moved in, slowly, watching the shadows and sending out little puffs of fire from time to time. He could see well enough in the dark, but his eyes did not need to adjust with the sudden flame, and he knew anything inside would have to shy away from the sudden light, unless there was a rogue dragon inside.
The cave pierced the mountain deeply, winding little and descending somewhat, but mostly a straight cavern with jagged walls and nasty stalactites hanging from the ceiling. There were no bats, but his eyes did find the occasional spider, which was unusual for the tundra. He would have thought it too cold for such creatures. As he moved in deeper, the scent of musk grew more potent. He slowed his pace, sending his fire many meters down the shaft at a time.
It was odd to see such an unbending tunnel, with no offshoots or dens branching out. He went in roughly a kilometer before he found the first pile of bones. All of them looked to be animal. Caribou judging from the size and shape. Gorliad studied the tooth marks in the bone. They were small, but deep. This meant the animal could not be so large as to shatter the bones while chewing, but it was still something dangerous. He sniffed the air again. The scent grew stronger still, but there was no visible sign of the tunnel’s inhabitant.
He moved in deeper, curving to the right with the cave and dropping sharply down a slope. Ab
out seventy meters below, the tunnel leveled out again and continued on straight. Gorliad stepped and then paused. The stone beneath his left foreleg didn’t feel right. It shifted. He looked down to see a black shell under his foot. The shell was easily two meters in circumference. He had never seen anything like it before. Despite the dragon standing on it, the shell held intact without a single crack. Six legs sprouted out the sides and a large, wide pair of horns stuck up from the ground. The thing spurted a black, stinky mist that stung Gorliad’s eyes and numbed his nose. The burgundy dragon instinctively pulled back.
The large beetle chattered and clicked, and then it ran forward and rammed itself into Gorliad’s leg. Gorliad instinctively reached down with his mouth and bit the beetle in half. That was a mistake. A cloud of the odiferous black fog exploded around him. His eyes stung so violently that they closed, refusing to open again. Gorliad coughed and snorted, flame shooting out all around him. His stomach flipped over and his head began to pound and throb. He did the only thing he could think to do. He turned and ran out from the tunnel.
As he hopped along, he sometimes slammed into the wall because he couldn’t see where he was going. Luckily, other than the one bend in the tunnel, he knew he just had to make a straight line for the exit. Behind him, he heard clicking legs and chattering mouths. He knew he was being chased. He wasn’t sure if the beetles could bite through his scales, but he was not about to wait around and find out. His best chance was to get out into the open air.
Clickity-clickity-clickity-clackity. The feet rattled through the tunnel. Knickity-knickety-scREEEEE! Their chattering and screaming pierced Gorliad’s ears. He pushed onward. Something rammed into his back leg. He brought his tail down furiously, cracking a beetle’s shell. A moment after the cacophonous splitting, he heard a pfffeeez, and knew the bug had emitted that horrible black cloud.