Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  His drake snorted, almost imperceptibly, but just loud enough to call Hermean back from his thoughts. He cast a glance at the drake and offered two nearly inaudible clicks of his tongue. The drake veered off to the left and disappeared in the brush. Hermean continued on, straining his senses. His ears picked up the faint sound of dry grass creaking as it flattened to the ground. Hermean stopped and bent down, as if to unlatch his boot.

  Something emerged from the bushes to his right. It was running, and only barely rustled the foliage, but the sound was distinct. Something was hunting him. Hermean flipped his knife into an upside down grip and waited. He counted the seconds, estimating how long it would take for the attacker to reach him. Then, when he sensed a footstep less than a meter away he leapt up, whirled around and took hold of a spear in his left hand. Hermean grabbed the shaft and twisted his body to the left as he yanked it forward, pulling the attacking dwarf off-balance. In the same, fluid motion, Hermean brought his right fist up in a savage cross so that the pommel of the knife slammed into the side of the attacking dwarf’s head, just behind the temple. The dwarf moaned and then went limp.

  Hermean ripped the spear away and turned the unconscious dwarf over with his boot. A mess of unkempt hair covered the dwarf’s face, but the leather armor identified the dwarf as a hunter. The dwarf groaned and slowly wiggled its fingers. Hermean knelt down, placing his right knee and all of his weight on the stranger’s sternum. The moaning dwarf gasped for breath and moaned under the weight.

  “Hold still if you wish to remain alive,” Hermean said.

  The dwarf on the ground froze, as if turned to stone by the words. Then it spoke. “Hermean, is that you?”

  Hermean recognized the voice at once. With a shaky hand he brushed the matted hair out of the dwarf’s face. “Forlean, my brother!” Hermean dropped the knife and grabbed his brother around the neck. “By the Aurorean it is good to see you!”

  Forlean weakly patted Hermean on the back and the two clambered up to their feet. “I am captain of the hunters now,” Forlean said with a wheezing cough.

  “Yet you still cannot sneak up on me,” Hermean teased as he grabbed his brother’s shoulder and shook him. “Ha, it does me good to see you brother.”

  Forlean pulled away and held his hand out for his spear. “I thought you dead,” he said.

  Hermean’s smile melted instantly and he nodded soberly. “To Geldryn, I am dead, and that is how it must be.”

  “Where have you been?” Forlean asked.

  “There is no time, Forlean,” Hermean said with a shake of his head. “Do you trust me?”

  Forlean nodded slowly.

  “I have returned because I need something.”

  Forlean shrugged. “I have no drakes to offer brother.”

  Hermean shook his head. “My drake yet lives. That is not it. I need something else from inside the mountain.”

  Forlean narrowed his eyes on Hermean and then stamped his spear on the ground. “If you go inside the mountain, the others will recognize you. There will be no way for you to remain dead to King Geldryn.”

  “I have no choice.” Hermean pulled back from his brother and at that moment his drake returned from the bushes to stand next to them. Hermean looked to the drake and then back to Forlean. “I believe we have a mutual friend, you and I, and it is he that needs the item.”

  “A mutual friend?” Forlean drew his brow in close and frowned. Then his eyes widened and he looked up to Hermean. “You mean the lame dragon, don’t you?”

  Hermean nodded.

  “No,” Forlean said with a vigorous shake of his head. “If you are caught, they will read your thoughts and you would be killed for dealing with the lame dragon. He has been declared an outcast by King Geldryn.”

  Hermean cleared his throat and held a hand up to silence his brother. “If I am caught, and my thoughts are read, I would be killed anyway. By now I am sure you know that Brinwal and I were sent on an errand for Siravel. However, what you don’t know is that I murdered Brinwal.”

  Forlean backed away and his eyes studied Hermean from head to toe. “No, that cannot be. You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  Hermean shrugged and folded his arms across his chest, still holding the knife in his right hand. “Not without reason, no. It is the truth, though. I slew Brinwal, and am myself an outcast.”

  “Then turn back and leave before you are found. I can’t offer you protection.”

  “No, but you can offer your help.”

  Forlean shook his head and backed farther away. “I can’t listen to this.”

  “There are others who depend on me, and upon the dragon,” Hermean said. “Help me, and you help hundreds of others. None of us mean any threat to the mountain. We are moving south, following the aurora in the night sky. Help me get what I need, and that is the end of it.”

  Forlean stood silently for a long while, staring at Hermean and shaking his head. “How long will you survive in the wilds with a lame dragon?” he asked at last.

  Hermean shrugged. “We have survived these thirty years without a dragon at all, so I say our chances are even better with him.” He slid his knife into its sheath and then held out his right hand. “Come, we are brothers, does that not count for something?”

  Forlean stepped in and slowly reached out his own hand. “Something tells me this will be much more involved than finding a new home for a couple of beaver kits.”

  Hermean smiled wide. “Gorliad showed me his encounter with you,” he said. The two shared a smile. And then they embraced. Each shed silent tears for a moment and then they pushed away from each other and wiped their eyes.

  “What are we after?” Forlean asked.

  Hermean frowned again. “I don’t know.” Forlean opened his mouth and gesticulated with his arm in disbelief, but Hermean patted the air and calmed him down. “I am looking for the records that are kept in the prince’s chamber.”

  “What records?” Forlean asked.

  Hermean shrugged. “Whatever is there that has information about the wilds, and the creatures found therein. Gorliad has been injured, and I need to know how to counter a frost troll king’s magic.”

  Forlean’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, then I suppose we really don’t have any time.”

  Hermean shook his head. “Can I trust you?”

  Forlean folded his arms and arched his right brow. “A little late for that question, isn’t it?”

  Hermean nodded. “Go to the lower entrance. Look for Dalean, she runs the food prepping chamber. Gorliad seemed to think she might know a way to find the right artifact.”

  Forlean nodded and turned, sliding his spear into a holster on his back.

  “Aren’t you going to fly? Where is your drake anyway?” Hermean asked.

  Forlean turned around and shrugged. “Galandel died the morning before yesterday. Flying accident. I guess you were right about those chains that connect the hunter to the drake.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hermean offered.

  Forlean wrinkled his nose and nodded. “What about you, have you named yours yet?”

  Hermean laughed. “No, I haven’t.”

  Forlean sniggered. “Well, the beast has been loyal to you for thirty years outside the kingdom’s protections. I would say that warrants a name, brother.”

  Hermean looked to his drake and sighed. He turned to say something more to his brother, but Forlean had disappeared into the forest. “I’ll wait here, then,” Hermean said.

  *****

  Forlean entered through the tunnel without problem. The dwarves that stood guard waved and nodded as he walked by, but none questioned him. He made his way up the tunnel until he came to the prepping chamber. Inside he saw a single female dwarf, laying out cleavers and pulling aprons and other utensils out of a large cabinet on the right hand side of the chamber.

  “Are you Dalean,” Forlean asked.

  The she-dwarf stopped and looked to Forlean. “If this is about the servant dragon, I haven’t seen
him since Algearon put those two skytes on him. I have said as much already in my official report.”

  Forlean walked in and shook his head. “But you are Dalean, yes?” he asked when he came within a couple paces of her.

  “I am,” she replied. “Who is asking?”

  “A friend of Gorliad’s,” Forlean whispered.

  Dalean went for a cleaver and with blinding speed had the blade up with the business end pointed at Forlean’s nose. “I don’t know what your angle is, but I support the true prince. I don’t know where the servant went, no matter who you are.”

  Forlean put his hands up in the air. “He is hurt,” he said. “I am here to find out how to help him. You can trust me.”

  Dalean set the cleaver down and grabbed Forlean by the arm, spinning him around and pushing him out the chamber and back down the tunnel until they reached a door. She pulled a key out from her pocket and opened the door. Inside the smell of dried leather and formaldehyde overpowered Forlean’s senses. She roughly shoved him into the chamber and then slammed the door behind her.

  Inside stood a dwarf with no arms, talking to another dwarf who was lighting a pipe with cherry flavored tobacco.

  “Forlean, captain of the hunters, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Algearon,” Dalean started. “This dwarf is asking me about Gorliad. He may know of his whereabouts.” Dalean pushed Forlean forward and then closed and locked the door behind her.

  Algearon pulled in a long drag on his pipe and narrowed his eyes on Forlean. Several dwarves emerged from behind large statues and stuffed animals. Forlean held up his hands and his mouth fell open.

  “I think there may be a misunderstanding,” he said.

  “There is no mistake,” Algearon said. “I am here to discover Gorliad’s whereabouts. High Queen Siravel has entrusted me with this matter. He is suspected of killing two of her majesty’s skytes, and then fleeing the kingdom. King Geldryn has proclaimed Gorliad an outlaw, yet you come here professing to know where he is, I find that most intriguing.”

  Forlean didn’t know what to say. Hermean had told him that Dalean would help. Now he found himself trapped with Algearon, the royal hatcher and arguably the most powerful dwarf in the mountain. How would he escape this?

  Algearon stepped in close as the other dwarves moved in and disarmed Forlean. “If you have information on the traitor’s whereabouts, you had best tell me now, otherwise I carry you to Siravel, and I will let her enter your mind and uncover all of your secrets.”

  “I don’t know where he is,” Forlean said quickly.

  “Where did you come from?” Algearon asked.

  “What?” Forlean stammered.

  “Did you come from the tunnels above, or from outside?” Algearon clarified.

  “The lower entrance, just now. You can ask the guard. They saw me walk in.”

  “Where were you before that?” Algearon pressed.

  “I was in the west, near the southern border. I am often out there. I am a hunter. It is my job to—”

  “So you have not come from the queen?” Algearon inquired.

  Forlean’s eyebrows shot up. “The queen? What would I do with any of the queens? I am a hunter.”

  Algearon pulled a wickedly curved dagger and held it to Forlean’s throat. “Tell me truly now, last chance. Did Queen Siravel send you to test me?”

  “Test you? What are you talking about?” Forlean’s eyes kept darting to Dalean as he struggled against the four dwarves that grabbed him and pulled his arms behind his back. “I don’t understand what is happening!” he shouted out.

  “Now that, is an answer I believe,” Algearon said as he slid the dagger away. “If you are a friend of Gorliad’s it is alright to say so, for so are we,” Algearon said.

  Forlean kept his mouth quiet and looked to Dalean. This time the she-dwarf nodded and moved in.

  “Release him,” she said. “You mentioned Gorliad was hurt, tell me how.”

  Forlean shook out his arms and rubbed his wrists. “I am not saying anything until you all explain yourselves. What was that?”

  “A test,” Algearon said. “High Queen Siravel has her spies everywhere, and we had to be sure you are not among them.”

  “Well how do I know you aren’t one of her spies?” Forlean asked.

  Algearon laughed and pulled out his pipe. He blew smoke out in a long breath and then smiled. “If I was on her side, you would already be dead, or languishing before her as she melted your mind. It is true that she sends me here every day to inquire whether Gorliad has returned. Each day I come and speak with those I trust, those who support the true prince. From now on, if you come to speak with us, or any of our order, you mention that you worship the true prince. They will reply that they have sworn by the scars on Algearon’s left shoulder to do likewise. Then, you will know you stand in trusted company.”

  Forlean held up his hands. “I am the captain of the hunters, I cannot hear talk like this.”

  The several dwarves around pulled swords and held them at the ready.

  Algearon gestured to the guards with his pipe. “Talk like that makes them nervous.”

  “Just tell me what I need to know, and I will be out of your hair,” Forlean pleaded.

  “Alright, how was Gorliad hurt?” Algearon asked.

  “A frost king troll struck him with a magical ice spear, and now he needs to know how to heal the wound.”

  Algearon slowly let his arm fall down to his side. Bits of burnt tobacco fell from the bowl of the pipe. “Is he alive?” he asked.

  “As far as I know,” Forlean said. “I did not see him.”

  “How do you know then?” Dalean asked.

  “I would rather not say,” Forlean replied.

  The dwarves with the swords moved in closer.

  “I am afraid you must tell us,” Algearon said. “Tell us everything.”

  “My brother, Hermean, told me. I found him sneaking toward the mountain. He said he needed the records from the prince’s chamber to learn how to counteract the magic.”

  “Your brother is alive?” Algearon pressed.

  Forlean nodded. “He leads a group of dwarves with Gorliad.”

  Algearon sucked in a breath and tapped the stem of his pipe onto his forehead. “Incredible,” he said as he paced around in a circled. Algearon glanced back to Forlean, who in turn was looking at the many blades still pointed at him. “Lower your weapons,” Algearon said. “Give him back his spear and knives. He will need them.”

  “You will take me to the prince’s chamber then?” Forlean asked. “What am I looking for?”

  “Impossible,” Algearon said. “The prince’s chamber would be impossible to escape from with the crystal. No, that will not do at all.”

  “Then what do I do? My brother waits for me even now, and I get the sense he is in a hurry.”

  “You need a ruby,” Algearon said.

  “A ruby?” Forlean questioned.

  Algearon nodded. “While tradition holds that the king is the only one who transfers knowledge of the wilds to the prince, I have been allowed access to some of the knowledge over the years. As nursery master I had the privilege of entering the prince’s chamber twice a year to clean it. On those occasions Geldryn would supervise me. We chatted at length about the Aurorean and the Void. In one of those conversations we discussed frost trolls, as they are a common blight in the south. He told me of a magic spear that a troll king could use to quench the fire of any dragon. He said the only way to restore a dragon’s fire after such a spell would be to use a ruby, a pair of rubies actually. You have to place the first gemstone in the wound for three days, to draw the ice magic out from the flesh. The second gem was to be ingested by the dragon, and it would melt in the dragon’s stomach and rekindle the fires inside.”

  “That sounds simple,” Forlean said. “I can go to the mines and pull a pair of rubies by digging through the hordes there before they are shipped to the refinery.”

  Algear
on shook his head. “Not as simple as that,” he said. “The rubies must be of completely pure quality, void of any clouding, cracks, or impurities. The ruby that is fixed into the wound must be the size of a dwarf’s fist. The second must be the size of a dwarf’s head.”

  Forlean frowned. “Where can I find such stones?” he asked.

  “Only in the king’s treasury,” Algearon replied evenly. He took a drag on the pipe and then blew the smoke out quickly. “Even if you manage to get them, it is not a simple process. Only few dragons have been rumored to survive the treatment. There is a whole science of using various gems as ways to enhance a king’s powers, but most dragons shy away from such experiments, if they are wise.”

  Forlean sighed and his eyes fell to the floor. “I must sneak into the king’s chamber?”

  Algearon shook his head. “No, you must go to the king’s council chamber. That will be easier in the sense that you do not have to pass the prince’s chamber, or the sentries that guard the entrance to the king’s chamber. But it is also harder because often the king and high queen are there, resting in the treasure hordes. Even when they are not, it is guarded by drones and drakes. However, it is the only way.” Algearon paced back and forth for a minute and then sighed, billowing smoke from his mouth and nose. “I can help you, but if you are caught, I will have to kill you myself to avoid suspicions being cast upon me.”

  Forlean looked to him and nodded. “What do we do?”

  “I will hide you in a basket of food that is going to the nursery. There is a tunnel that leads directly up to the council chamber. It is a lot of stairs, but as long as no one sees you enter the secret tunnel, you will be fine. Then, when you get to the top, you will use the key and go through the door.” Algearon held up a stern finger. “Mind the bell at that door. If you open too quickly and fail to silence the bell, you will give yourself away.”