by Sam Ferguson
Another one jumped on Gorliad’s lower back. No, it hadn’t jumped up, Gorliad realized as he felt the beetle flip itself over onto its legs. It had dropped from above. The beetles could run and climb. His mind conjured up an image of the nasty beetles crawling over every inch of the jagged walls, zipping between the stalactites, and forming a living mouth as it were in the massive throat of stone. He flung the one from his back with a quick strike of his tail, but as more and more slammed into his rear legs or dropped from above, he had to wonder if he had finally found a battle he couldn’t win.
Gorliad thrashed his tail this way and that, slamming beetle after beetle. Each one burst into the same cloud of gas. He used his feet to stomp, his talons to pierce, and his tail to crush. It wasn’t enough. Soon he had a score of the nasty things on his back. They bit down, luckily his scales held firm, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before they found a weak spot. There were too many.
He stopped suddenly, turned his head, and did what dragons do best. He opened his mouth and threw such a wave of fire that it shook the cavern. To his surprise, the fire not only pushed the beetles back, but it cleared the gas from his eyes and nose. The black stink burned away quickly, turning into grey and blue flame whenever a pocket of gas was hit by the fire.
He could see again.
Gorliad opened his eyes and turned to face his predators. He saw the shining shells scurrying back down the tunnel as his flame flushed the cave thoroughly. Some of the beetles died in the flame, their shells curled back, and then whatever part of them held the gas would also catch flame. In an instant the beetle would explode in a great fireball, shooting red-hot pieces of shell to pierce through, and ignite, the beetles near them. Such a chain of explosions was set off that even Gorliad was unsure if he could withstand the heat. Stalactites melted and fell from the ceiling, hot, flaming shards of beetle shell were flying every which way, and the very tunnel itself seemed to be caving in under the pressure.
The burgundy dragon used every bit of force he had to give a final push of his flame, sending it far as he could down the chute, chasing the beetles. Then he turned and made for the exit. The explosions behind him grew louder with each moment, despite the distance he put between him and the beetles. The mountain quivered and shook. Cracks appeared in the walls nearby. Faster and faster he ran for the exit.
A horrible, thunderous vibration rocked through the mountain just as Gorliad leapt out from the tunnel and took to his wings in the sky. Black ash and smoke flew out as the tunnel collapsed after him. He turned and watched the cloud billow out from the cave. He was happy that the beetles were destroyed. If they had descended upon the dwarves, there was no telling how many they might have killed and dragged back to their horrid den.
As he thought of the dwarves, he realized how far ahead of them he was, and how long it had been since he saw them. He decided to fly back toward them, just to make sure they were alright. He didn’t have to fly for long before he saw Hermean flying through the night sky on his drake.
“I don’t know where you have been, but you need to bathe,” Hermean called out. The drake snorted and gagged as Gorliad drew near.
“You don’t want to know,” the burgundy dragon replied as he circled around Hermean. “All are doing well?”
Hermean nodded. “Cold and tired, but spirits are higher than they have been for a while. It isn’t every day a dragon offers to help without enslaving or eating you.”
“High spirits?” Gorliad echoed quizzically. “You didn’t tell them about Siravel then?”
“Why bother them with details like that?” Hermean asked. “No need to start a panic before a mass exodus to a new land.”
“So what did you tell them?”
“That you had found a good place for us to make a new home, just for dwarves. That it was far removed from other dragon kingdoms and we would be safe.”
“You lied to them.”
“I gave them hope, which is the same thing you tried to give me.” Hermean swopped back through the air and the drake gagged again as it drew near to Gorliad. “Besides, I have faith in you. You will find us such a place.”
“That is my hope as well,” Gorliad said. “I suppose I should scout ahead then.”
“Are we maintaining the same heading?”
“Keep following the aurora, until the sun comes up and blots it out.” Gorliad took off then, fast enough to pull ahead and go back to scouting the path.
He flew beyond the beetle mountain, alongside a frozen river, and stopped at the edge of a great, black forest at the foot of large, jagged mountains. He dropped down to the forest and decided to wait there to rest. He knew the dwarves would likely need to make camp here once they reached the area. There would be no easy climb through the mountains. He thought to hunt in the night for food, but a breeze came up from behind him and let him catch a whiff of the stench that clung to his scales.
He snorted and shook his head. Smelling so awfully, he would be lucky to come within three hundred meters of an anosmatic deer. He turned his head and blew a light flame over his back, hoping to burn the scent off. Then he looked to the frozen river. He limped over to it and clawed at the top layer with his left foreleg. His talons ripped through almost a meter of ice, but still there was no water. He opened his mouth and burned a hole through the covering. Once there was a small hole he went to work ripping back layers of ice and burning the edges to widen the opening. Once it was large enough, he jumped in.
The cool water rushed over and around him, chilling his scales. He stoked the fires within him to keep warm. He swirled and rolled in the water, using his tail to scrub the surface of his scales. Then he poked up to the surface. The wind turned the streaming water along his body into rivulets of sparking ice that cracked and broke off as he pulled himself up and walked back toward the forest. Another blast of fire and he was not only clear of ice, but dry and warm as if it were a summer day.
He extended his right wing and brought it forward to sniff. The scent was finally gone. Now he would hunt. He scanned the ground for tracks, but there were none that he could see in the open. So he took to the forest. At first the trees were too thick for him to move without snapping branches or dropping tree-loads of snow down upon the ground in a muffled poof! However, after he got into the forest a few hundred meters, it thinned out a bit where the ground began to slope upwards to the smaller mountains that stood before the greater peaks.
To his satisfaction, he found a sleeping herd of caribou after ascending a bald hill. It was a small herd, maybe only two hundred adult animals, but that was more than enough to feed him and the dwarves. The animals were nestled in close to stave off the frigid air. It made for easy prey. Gorliad moved in closer, careful not to make too much noise. Instead of his usual hopping limp, he curled his talons in on his left foreleg, almost resembling a fist. This allowed him to slide his left leg forward on the compact snow and ice and walk with his hind legs. Other than swimming or flying, it was the quietest way for him to move, and allowed him to creep up close without making the ground tremble under his limp.
Once within striking distance, he turned and came crashing down with his tail. He killed nearly a score of caribou with the single strike. The cracking bone, deep bleating and snorts, and cries of alarm woke the remainder of the herd. They jumped up confused, all running in separate directions at first. Then Gorliad came in with his mouth and scooped up three of the large animals. He hardly chewed before swallowing them. The second attack coerced the caribou to all run in one direction away from him, abandoning those unfortunate caribou that had survived the tail whip but where injured too greatly to escape.
The burgundy dragon let the rest of the herd escape. He had enough for one night. He went to work with his teeth, mercifully ending the suffering of the crippled caribou without taking any additional meat for himself. After all of the animals were slain, Gorliad moved the catch to the top of the hill. He wanted it to be easily spotted from the air by Hermean an
d his drake.
Next he worked with his tail and talons to break trees down from the forest. He moved the logs in, ripping the limbs from the trunks and separating the boughs into another pile. He was no lumberman, and the cuts were certainly not smooth, but soon he had several piles of logs that would work for both cooking and warmth for the group.
As he worked, he kept an eye out for any predator or scavenger that might come at the smell of blood. To his surprise, nothing came, or if something did he did not notice.
About an hour after he had finished, he heard the marching and singing of dwarves. He smiled, admiring their courage. They sang loudly, without regard for anything around them. Either they were very happy at the idea of finally ending their wandering, or their new protector had boosted their confidence. Then again, perhaps it was a mix of both things.
Hermean dropped down from above on his drake. He leapt off and rubbed his backside. Then he stretched and yawned while looking at the caribou and piles of wood around him. “Have you eaten?” he asked.
Gorliad nodded. “I had enough for now. I can hunt again on the morrow while I scout the mountain.”
“Think this is far enough south?” Hermean asked.
Gorliad shook his head. “Beleriad would easily come this far if he discovered my secret. I might even say that Siravel would consider coming this far just to patrol the area.”
“She hates you so much?” Hermean asked.
“You are the one who showed me what you and Brinwal were sent to do. Dragons can cross much more distance in much less time.”
Hermean shrugged. “Camp here for a day then?”
Gorliad nodded. “I will light the fires. I can also put a ring around the hill. It should keep everyone warm enough while they sleep. Then, in the morning they can eat.”
Herman pointed to the caribou. “Well, I can clean the caribou before the others arrive. I will fly back and give them their heading, and then I will return.”
Gorliad watched the dwarf jump back into the saddle and tear off through the skies toward the singing chorus of dwarves. It wasn’t long before the dwarf was back. He pulled a knife and went to work gutting each of the caribou. True to his word, he finished all twenty of them before the rest of the group showed up at the hill. At the sight of the caribou they whipped up into a frenzy and straightway went to creating spits and skinning the animals.
The burgundy dragon saw their excitement and couldn’t tell them they should rest before eating. He set the fires, careful not to incinerate the logs entirely. Once all the fires were lit, he jumped into the air and spread his wings to circle the hill. He blew a great line of fire that broke through the snow and ice to linger upon the ground itself. The flames rose up a couple meters from the surface, and added an incredible amount of heat to the camp.
“That will certainly thaw our bones,” Hermean said when Gorliad landed.
“The ring will not last more than a few minutes, but it will be enough to help the others get comfortable,” Gorliad noted. “Tell them to eat, and then go to sleep. For me the climb over the ridge will be easy, but for them it will be difficult.”
“Why not just carry them over the top?” Hermean asked. “Siravel will surely notice her spies are dead after the sun rises. Perhaps we should try to shorten the delay of climbing over the top of the mountain.”
Gorliad looked to the peaks and considered the proposal. He couldn’t deny the logic. He snorted and a blue flame jumped out from his snout. “There,” he said as he motioned to the space between two peaks. “I can fly them through those two peaks.” Then he looked back to the group. He saw that there were many dwarf children and babies in the midst of the camp. They would not be able to hold on to his back as he flew. Actually, he doubted whether even the adults could do that.
“We’ll need rope, or saddles,” Hermean said as if reading Gorliad’s mind.
“We have neither,” the dragon noted.
“We have some,” Hermean corrected. “Not enough for this, though.” Hermean looked around and sighed. “A couple decades ago we had a lot of tools. We could come to a place like this and fashion anything we needed. Over time, the tools broke, or were lost. We still have some, but not enough to fashion anything quickly. How many do you think you can carry at a time?”
“The question is not how many I can carry, but how many can hold on without falling off.”
Hermean looked to the logs and then snapped his fingers. “No, we are thinking about this the wrong way.”
Gorliad looked to him and sniffed the air. “If you have another plan, I am more than ready to hear it.”
Hermean pointed to the trees. “We fashion a type of large basket, with a flat bottom, and you carry us in your clutches. Why ride on your back if you could simply carry us?”
“You just said you don’t have a lot of tools,” Gorliad pointed out.
Hermean nodded and waved the statement away. “We have some. We could use our rope to lash the basket together. It would be like a raft, but instead of needing to be water tight, it just has to be stable enough to support fifty or so dwarves while you carry it with your feet over the mountain pass.”
“Do you think you could make it strong enough to withstand the wind? Wind gets stronger the higher up you go, especially when passing mountains. It will not be a simple matter.”
“Would you prefer I create a basket to place on your back?” Hermean asked back.
Gorliad laid his head down in front of him. “Sounds like I am going to need my rest too,” he said. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.
Chapter 24
Gorliad woke with the sun. He stretched his wings out over the camp. Never in his life had he heard so much snoring in one place. He would have thought it was an army of sleeping dragons near him, and not tiny little dwarves. The fires were smoldering, sending little dying columns of dark smoke up into the air. All of the meat was gone. Piles of discarded bones littered the camp site, making it seem like the slumbering noise-bags had just finished battle against a rival army.
The dragon moved down and began to look for trees to be used in Hermean’s contraption. He wasn’t quite sure it would work, but he believed it was at least worth a try. Besides, while they worked on the so-called basket, he could fly over the ridge and scout out a safe place to deposit them on the other side. He looked up to the peaks. The tallest was easily three thousand meters tall, and most of the other mountains were not much smaller. Any way they came at this, it was going to be a hard crossing.
He went to work snapping trees off and then pulling the limbs from the trunks. He piled fifty pines at the base of the hill with hardly any effort at all. The boughs he piled nearby in what looked like a nice bedding idea perhaps he could try in the future. Then, with some of the dwarves starting to wake and make their way toward the new lumber, he jumped up into the sky and flew up to scout the best path.
Up and up he climbed. The frigid morning wind swiped and scratched at him the higher he went. He smiled to himself. Only a few short years before such winds would have sent him careening for the ground. Now they were simply mild annoyances that he tolerated as part of the price for flying. He coursed above the tree line where the pines dared not to grow. The black rocks poked up through the white snow, reaching up as if to grab him. Gorliad flew through the space between the two peaks he had pointed out the night before. As he passed between the mountains, he scanned the slopes for any sign of life. He didn’t see any caves, and other than a family of mountain goats climbing an impossible cliff face, he didn’t see anything else moving upon the mountains.
On the other side the mountains were surprisingly smooth. The sharp, black rocks that had so defined the front slopes were not noticeable anywhere on the southern face. The wind was also calmer, and barely more than a breeze. Gorliad smiled at his good fortune and sailed down the slope toward the forest at the bottom. He sniffed the air, hunting for anything that might present a danger to the dwarves. All he could smell was the crisp, c
lean air around him with a hint of pine from the forest below.
He passed over the first several hundred meters of forest, scanning the forest floor as best he could with his eyes. This forest, unlike the one they camped in, had no clearing easily accessible from the mountain. He would have to deposit them above the tree line, or carry them beyond the forest. Gorliad didn’t like the idea of landing with a flat basket on a slope above the tree line. That sounded like disaster waiting to happen. So he flew over the trees, looking for the place where the forest either cleared enough to land in, or where its southern edge stood.
He flew for roughly fifty kilometers before he finally found a flat space of land beyond the forest. Gorliad circled the area, scouting it carefully and looking for any sign of predators or other kinds of monsters that were said to roam the southern wilds. He passed the clearing not once, not twice, but three separate times. Then he decided to land there and scout the area from the ground, putting his nose close to the surface and checking for even the faintest sign of life.
Then, once he was satisfied, he flew back to the dwarves. He kept an eye on the ground below, scanning the snow for anything he might have missed, but there was nothing for him to see.
He dropped down onto the hilltop and found the dwarves bustling about vigorously. A large, wooden contraption sat at the base of the hill, where the caribou had slept. Gorliad inspected it. Long, smooth timbers were lashed together to construct a floor. A couple of timbers stacked atop each other made a wall of sorts, roughly a meter high, with some variance of course for the shape of the logs. Boughs and soft branches were strewn atop the floor to create a softer covering, and to close the gaps left by the large logs. The front and back of the unique construct were yet to be finished.