Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  Hermean steered his drake down toward the nearest ice-wraith. The drake roared and shot a bolt of fire at the creature. The whirlwind moved, but Gorliad had been counting on it. Not only that, but he had anticipated that it would dodge right, as it had the times Gorliad had fired upon it. He unleashed a wave of fire and the creature was caught between the two streams. It hissed and screamed as the flames closed in like a vice, utterly destroying the whirlwind.

  Now there was only one.

  Gorliad went back to the ring of fire, strengthening and bolstering it before the ice-wraith could slip through any weak points.

  The ice-wraith hissed and screamed. The whirlwind faded and the snow swirling around grouped into three spheres that continued to circle over the crystalline figure of a humanoid. The creature had two legs, and stood roughly two meters tall, though it floated above the ground nearly a meter. It had four arm-like appendages. Two had hands and the other pair of arms ended in ghastly barbed pincers. A tail of ice twitched angrily behind it, wagging side to side. The ice-wraith had a face, not entirely dissimilar from a dwarf, but with massive fangs and no nose. A third eye rested in its forehead. None of the three eyes looked in the same direction. One focused on Gorliad, another on Hermean, and the third on the ring of fire.

  It snarled something that almost sounded like words, and then it stretched out. As if in answer to its call, a host of clouds gathered around them. A cold, biting wind circled the area and snow began to box them all in to the extent that the sun was nearly blotted from the sky.

  Gorliad now had to work twice as hard to keep the ring of fire intact. Hermean darted in with his drake, but he could never seem to get close enough to the ice-wraith. Soon the snow fell so thick that all Gorliad could see was his ring of fire. No longer could he see the ice-wraith, or Hermean for that matter. The only time he knew where Hermean was, was when he saw a flash of fire shot out by Hermean’s drake.

  The fires burned lower, despite Gorliad’s efforts. It seemed that sooner or later, the fires would die from the blizzard, and that was assuming Gorliad didn’t simply tire from the efforts before the snow could quash the flames.

  He had to do something, but what could he do?

  He circled the ring three more times, continually adding to the ring. He heard several angry puffs of fire and saw flashes of Hermean’s outline in the blizzard, but never did he hear the confirming scream of the dying ice-wraith. Nor would he hear the ice-wraith scream, he knew. It had the advantage.

  A thought came to Gorliad then. His eyes glanced up to the thick clouds. What might happen if he attacked the clouds? Sure he wouldn’t hurt the ice-wraith, but if he could dispel the blizzard, then he could win back some time. He took in a deep breath and blasted more fire into the ring. Then he turned upward and gathered all of his strength. He roared magnificently as a bright flame of white and blue streamed out of his mouth and pierced through the cloud. At first nothing happened. The column of fire tore through the cloud but the snow continued to fall.

  Then, the snow thinned. At last the cloud shattered apart and bits of misty snow fluttered down around him. The sunlight again broke through in full force, and the flames in the ring of fire held without weakening. He wasted no time. He went on the attack.

  Gorliad streaked down, sending fireball after fireball at the ice-wraith. It hissed as it floated backward in a zig-zagging pattern. Each fireball came close, but none struck their mark. Hermean dove in from the right, his drake throwing fire as well, but with no better results. The ice-wraith was too fast.

  Gorliad dove down, talons out and teeth snapping between fireballs. His first strike missed, ripping up bits of ground and ice, but no ice-wraith. The monster floated around him and tried to go for the fire ring. Gorliad swung out with his tail, forcing the creature back to avoid being clobbered by the massive appendage. Hermean then dropped down from above, driving the ice-wraith even farther back with his drake’s fire. Gorliad then leapt up again and created a large ring of fire.

  Hermean had the ice-wraith so distracted that it failed to notice what Gorliad was doing until it was too late. The burgundy dragon created the ring around the ice-wraith. He built the flames higher and higher, intensifying the heat inside.

  The ice-wraith hissed and began to stretch forth its arm again. Hermean braved the inside of the ring and kept his drake firing at the ice-wraith to prevent it from completing its spell.

  “Out!” Gorliad shouted as he gained enough speed to circle around the area with hardly any effort more than gliding as he continued to spill fire into the ring. No sooner had Hermean escaped than Gorliad closed the circle in. The spiraling flames circled closer and closer to the screeching ice-wraith. It zigged and zagged, but could find no exit. Finally, in an explosion of smoke and ice, the flames struck their target and consumed the foul creature.

  Gorliad dropped down then and waited for the flames to die before examining the scorched ashes.

  To his surprise, he found the third eye still intact and turning every which way.

  “It is said that they can anticipate the future with that eye,” Hermean said through labored breaths.

  “If that were true, then why attack when they knew they would die?” Gorliad asked.

  Hermean shrugged. “Perhaps it is just a legend to explain their unbelievable speed.”

  “I find it more likely that the void uses the eye to see into this world. Perhaps by creating a legend of the ability to see the future, the void would trick victims into bringing the eye into their homes, and giving other monsters easy access to this world.”

  Hermean shrugged. “Sounds as logical as looking into the future.”

  “In any case, after seeing trolls respawn from severed limbs, I prefer not to leave any part of this creature intact.”

  Gorliad reached down with a single talon and split the eye open, letting the goo inside seep out onto the scorched ground. The silvery translucent ooze hissed and popped against the hot ground. Gorliad then found the other two corpses and similarly destroyed their third eyes as well.

  When he had finished he moved the dwarves back to the forest, and out of the open tundra. “Let us stay here one more night. Then we can continue on tomorrow.”

  Fenerir was the first to object. “I would rather we move tonight. My bones grow weary of the cold, and I do not wish to see if these three have kin nearby.”

  Gorliad nodded and relented. “Then let us move out now.

  Chapter 28

  The company continued on, doing most of their walking by the light of the aurora at night, for another fourteen days. They tangled with a few snow beasts, but there was nothing that had been as ferocious as the ice-wraiths, nor as hard to stop as the frost trolls. Now that Gorliad was back to his full strength, there were few things that could challenge them now.

  A range of mountains in the south began to take shape one night under the light of the aurora. Each night they walked, the range grew closer and closer. A single, massive mountain rose up so high that as Gorliad flew, he nearly could not fly above the peak. The aurora seemed to stick on the summit of this mountain, as if held in place by the jagged spire.

  Gorliad wasn’t sure how he knew, but he felt in his soul that this was to be his home. Each night as they drew closer, he could feel the fires in his chest grow stronger. The dwarves felt it too, it seemed, for they sang louder each night, and grew in their gladness and merriment. Not only did they sing at night, but they sang in the day, when they were supposed to be resting.

  During the final two days, no one slept or rested except for the children. All the others were too excited by the prospect of finally stopping to hold off the longed-for moment with unnecessary camping and sleeping.

  It was a clear, starry night when they stood at the base of the grand mountain. A forest of thick pines stood at the foot of the mountain, fed by an iced-over lake to the west. The trees stretched up the mountain for nearly two kilometers, and then they thinned until the snow and rocks conquered them
to shape the rest of the mountain’s face. The aurora sat directly over the mountain, waving and dancing as it shone down upon them.

  “We are home,” Gorliad said.

  Hermean nodded. “I can scout the forest if you wish to check the mountain for caves.”

  Gorliad agreed. He climbed into the sky and made his way to the mountain. Off to the east he could see herds of buffalo slumbering along a range of foothills extending from the larger mountains. He turned his visage to the west and saw the ocean maybe three hours’ flight away. Even from here, he could see the massive herds of tens of thousands of caribou in that direction. To have animals in these numbers meant there were likely no abundant predators in the area. Certainly there would be snow leopards or bears, but he doubted the existence of frost trolls or anything else that would prey upon the herds to extinction.

  That was a thought he certainly liked.

  He glided up around the mountains, centering his search on the largest spire in the center. He did in fact see a few smaller caves, likely bear dens or something of that nature. In any case, Hermean would have to scout those out with some of the warriors as those caves were far too small for Gorliad.

  Then, about halfway up the mountain on the western slope he found a massive cave. The opening was easily forty meters tall, and would accommodate Gorliad, or any other dragon for that matter. He circled around it from above first, checking to see if he could uncover what had made the large den. He doubted it had been formed naturally. There were claw marks in the sides of the opening, deep gouges along the upper third of both sides.

  The thought came to him that he should go back and warn the others before inspecting the massive cave. He had no way of knowing what foul creature might lurk inside. He circled back and was about to do just that when something inside stirred. He couldn’t see it, but he heard it. Something scraped and slid along the uneven floor of the cave.

  First emerged a long, pointed nail that sat on the end of a finger larger around than two oak tree trunks fused together. It scraped along the left side of the cave and gripped it tightly. Gorliad ascended upward, hovering over the tunnel to get a better look, and hopefully maintain the element of surprise. As the left claw tightened around the opening a hand slid out, revealing stubby, scarred-over knuckles where three other fingers had once been. Whatever the beast was, its hand was made of flesh, and apparently it had already lost some of its fingers.

  A similar hand scraped along the right side of the cave. Similar sharp nails tipped the fingers, but this hand was whole, albeit covered in scars of various lengths and widths. The knuckles on the hand flexed and bits of stone yielded under the creature’s grip.

  Gorliad heard a strange rumbling in the cave. It was something between a growl, and a wheeze. Whatever it was, it was sniffing the air, Gorliad realized. A massive head emerged. It was shrouded in rope-like strands of hair that failed to cover the gray scalp. A pair of pointed ears sat on the sides of the head. Next Gorliad saw a pair of shoulders that sat as wide as he was long. A long, bony spine was visible under the gray skin, set between a thick set of back muscles that rippled in the light of the aurora. The creature squeezed out from the cave and then bent upward to stand. It stretched its long, muscular arms out to its sides and roared.

  “Who dares come to my mountain?” the thing snarled.

  Gorliad threw a glance down to the forest, where the other dwarves were waiting. He knew they would be of little use against this monster. This fight was his, and his alone. The only question was what magic this thing might have. He already guessed that it could not heal itself, otherwise the severed fingers on its left hand would have regrown. Certainly it was no troll king.

  Suddenly the thing looked up to the sky and spied Gorliad with its bloodshot, yellow eyes. It opened it mouth to speak and pointed at Gorliad.

  “A dragon!” it roared. The stench of its foul, rotten breath rose up to Gorliad’s snout and the dragon nearly retched, which was quite an unpleasant, and uncommon, urge for a dragon.

  The giant reached down and broke off a hunk of stone from the mountain. The giant took aim and threw the large boulder.

  Gorliad dodged the missile and fired back with his flame. He expected the giant to have some sort of magical shield, but it didn’t. The fire ripped and consumed the flesh on the giant’s left arm as the monster howled and stumbled down the mountain in pain.

  As the giant tumbled end over end an avalanche of snow and rocks exploded down the mountain. Gorliad could hear the dwarves below screaming and yelling. He looked down and saw them running from the edge of the forest trying to get out of the giant’s path.

  The burgundy dragon dove down, gaining speed as he tucked his wings in. He managed to reach the giant in time to reach down and use his talons to knock the falling giant toward the left, which steered him toward the frozen lake instead of toward the dwarves. As for the avalanche, Gorliad poured out his fire, first turning the snow into rushing water and mud, but then evaporating the water as well so that nothing fell upon the forest other than a pile of boulders and sticks.

  The giant crashed down to the ground near the frozen lake, sending a crack ripping through the ice, but not breaking the ice entirely.

  A horrid gasping wail came up from the ice, or so it seemed.

  The giant moaned and groaned, placing its good hand over its head and staring at a thick gob of blood that had smeared from a gash in its skull. Gorliad gave the monster no time to recover. He flew directly at the giant and blasted the monster’s face with fire. At the same time, he reached in with his left foreleg and tore at the giant’s neck. In an instant, the thing was dead. The body fell to the ground. Blood gushed out over the snow until the frigid air managed to coagulate it. Gorliad then returned to the cave and without hesitation darted inside.

  Had he found anything else, he would have killed it too, but he didn’t. In fact, the tunnel wasn’t even a real tunnel, not by dragon standards anyway. It stopped a mere hundred meters in, and was more of a shallow den than an actual cave. He saw bones strewn about the area, but no sign of smaller tunnels, or any other creatures.

  The dragon emerged from the tunnel and roared triumphantly. He heard the cheers from the dwarves below. Hermean soon landed near Gorliad atop the mountain while many of the dwarves flocked around the giant’s corpse.

  “I scanned the forest and I have sent a few warriors in to check the smaller tunnels below, but it looks like old, abandoned bear caves.”

  Gorliad nodded and puffed out his chest. “We shall make this our home,” he said. “From the ocean west, to the mountains east, and the tundra north for as far as the eye can see.”

  “It is a good home,” Hermean commented. “Even with that grotesque monstrosity, there are wild animals in abundance here. We will do well.”

  “Have them move up into the giant’s cave. It will be cramped, but there is room enough for all. I will sleep in the entrance. On the morrow, we will begin fashioning tools with which we will conquer the mountain and bend the stone to our will.”

  Hermean smiled wide and lightly nudged his drake with his right heal. “Let’s get on up,” he said.

  Chapter 29

  The next day was extremely busy. Dwarves broke off into various groups, under Hermean’s instruction, and began preparing the things they needed. A crude forge was built near the base of the mountain out of stone and fed with trees from the forest. Meanwhile, a group of dwarves dug into the bear caves, scavenging what ore they could find. It was slow going at first. They had not the tools to dig properly, nor did they have enough ore to make the tools.

  Gorliad saw the problem and took to one of the bear caves with his left foreleg. His claws scraped and sliced the stone apart in great hunks while dwarves worked furiously to clear the rubble away. He dug with his strength, pulling bits of the mountain out and widening the cave. For every meter of depth, he had to clear many times that from the sides of the cave in order to accommodate his girth. By the time the sun fell on
the first day, all were exhausted, and yet Gorliad could only just fit in the cave up to his shoulders.

  There was still much to be done.

  They slept peacefully during the night, for over the course of the day other dwarves had fashioned bunk beds from the timbers logged out of the forest. Hermean and a few of his men had not only hunted for food, but had also managed to harvest furs for additional blankets as well. Songs were the last sounds to ring throughout the mountain at night, and the striking of hammers and Gorliad’s claws ripping at the stone were the first sounds to fill the air the next morning.

  They worked tirelessly for hours, until mid-day when they broke for lunch.

  That was when Gorliad saw them the first time.

  A group of strange figures off to the east beyond the foothills, but well inside the eastern mountains. From this distance he couldn’t be sure exactly how many of them there were, but he guessed there were less than six, as best he could tell. They watched the dwarves along the mountain, but didn’t move or make any sound.

  Gorliad went about his business, pretending not to notice them.

  As the hours wore on Gorliad noticed that a new figure appeared. It rode upon some kind of sled, drawn by large, gray beasts. The dragon stopped and looked directly at the strangers. Hermean swooped down from above on his drake, landing nearby.

  “Best I can tell, they are orcs,” Hermean said.

  “Orcs?” Gorliad repeated. “They don’t look like the savage, bloodthirsty creatures I was told about as a hatchling.”

  Hermean shook his head, grabbed his axe and slid off his drake in one elegant move. “They are orcs. I flew over them. The one who rides the sled is their king. We should attack them before they attack us.”

  “Are there many?” Gorliad asked.