Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  He must have stood there with Hermean for hours, studying each of the runes over and over until he had each of them completely memorized and internalized. The language of his kin pulled at his soul, and imbued him with a new power.

  When he finally broke the connection, Hermean fell to his knees and had to stretch out a hand to keep from falling over. Gorliad glanced down to the dwarf and then called out to a crowd of dwarves that had gathered. “Get him to a bed.”

  “No,” Hermean said breathlessly. “I want to see whatever it is you do next.”

  Gorliad smiled. “Then watch, and understand the true power of kings.”

  The burgundy dragon spread his wings and launched into the air. He flew up gracefully and powerfully. The beat of his wings whooshed through the air rhythmically as he climbed higher and higher into the air. At last the dragon hovered high above the mountain and offered a deafening roar that rent the clouds from the sky, opening the mountain and all around it to the direct golden light of the sun. Another roar shook the ground, throwing all of the dwarves to their knees and causing the trees in the forest to tremble.

  Gorliad pulled in a deep breath and then arched his neck up to the sky. He let out a column of white and blue flames that streaked high into the air. The roaring fire rose up as a great pillar. The dwarves below shielded their eyes from its glory with their hands and arms. Wicked, gnarly black and green spiders the size of boulders scattered from the forest below. Off in the distance, orcs and ogres howled and shouted against Gorliad.

  A great rumbling shook the ground. The lake from whence the leviathan had emerged began to boil and bubble, spewing hot water and steam out onto the tundra. The foothills quaked and split, flinging rock and ice out across the tundra. The ocean to the west heaved itself onto the shores, leaping far beyond its normal bounds.

  A great, red cloud swallowed the whole of the area around him. The dense darkness blotted out the sun, and quenched his column of fire. The black swept in and covered Gorliad, his lands, and the dwarves. The burgundy dragon heard the dwarves crying out in fear, but he did not lose hope. Even when the last vestiges of the sun’s rays died in the thick, suffocating blackness, Gorliad still held hope.

  The air around him grew heavy, and started to push him down toward the ground.

  He had expected that. The runes had shown him everything that was to happen. They also had taught him what he must do to succeed.

  “The void is not welcome here,” Gorliad thundered out across the valley.

  A gargantuan, gravelly voice mocked him from the shadows. “The Void is all that is here,” it said. “You can no more banish me from this place than you can walk upon all fours.” The mocking words turned to laughter and an icy hand wrapped around Gorliad’s body, stifling his fires and holding his wings still. “Such a fool to think you could displace me.”

  Fear gripped Gorliad’s soul. His mind fluttered. No, he knew this was part of it. It was all included in the rite. The void would never willingly relinquish its hold upon the untamed wilds. There was only one way to conquer it.

  Gorliad focused on his fires within him, letting them burn and grow. Then, as his body began to glow he turned to focus on his new fire. He opened his mouth and roared so magnificently that the hand around him melted away. An eruption of brilliant white light shot out from his mouth. The darkness retreated away from him momentarily, and then it crashed back in around him. Still Gorliad did not quit. He fought through the darkness, blasting his brilliant light up toward the sun. The column of white sparkled and burned with purple, green, red, and orange. There were soft hues of blue, pink, and yellow as well. The darkness had no choice but to pull away.

  The blanket of black fog dissipated, allowing the sun to enter the tundra again. The ocean to the west and the lake by the forest calmed. The ground ceased trembling, and the only screams heard were those of the children of the void as they scampered out from King Gorliad’s new home.

  “As the day chases the night, the void shall fall before the light!” Gorliad snarled. He roared again, sending his pillar of light even higher into the sky. There, two hundred meters above the dragon, the pillar hovered. It did not fade nor disappear. It stood in the sky as a beacon for all to see.

  Gorliad flew down to the mountain and the dwarves one by one rose up to look upon him.

  “We prepare now,” Gorliad said. “For the next three nights, there shall be no darkness. Then, upon the following sunset, the void shall send its armies once more upon us. If we win that night, then this kingdom is ours, and the void shall have no more power here.”

  The dwarves shouted and cheered.

  “All hail the king!” Fenerir called out. Others took up the cry, and they bowed low to Gorliad.

  The dragon moved in to rest. “Until the final trial, no enemy shall enter our domain. You are free to hunt, gather, and prepare.”

  Gorliad returned to his chamber and slid into his pile of treasure. He let the music overtake him. He slumbered for three days, resting for the fight to come.

  When he finally woke, he felt the same fire and light in his body, only now it seemed even stronger. He moved out to the entrance and gazed upon his lands. The shining pillar above still hung in the air as bright as the moment he had placed it there. He knew that would not last, though. For this night the void would return.

  As the sun fell, the pillar of light faded with the sunset. The night rolled in thick and dark. The moon and stars struggled to send their light into the tundra. A chilling wind blew in from the north. Not long before midnight a sea of torches appeared off in the distance.

  Fenerir and Hermean came out to stand next to Gorliad when the orcs appeared. “We have made preparations for the mountain,” Hermean said. “We can hold off from here as you do whatever it is you will do.”

  “Tonight I fight the void itself,” Gorliad said.

  Hermean and Fenerir glanced at each other.

  Gorliad turned to his silent friends and smiled. “The orcs and few ogres they bring will be no trouble, but the void will seek to destroy me. If I can banish it, in combat, then it will never again have power over us. From then on, no children of the void will dare to come here. So it is with all kings.”

  “I shall fight with you,” Hermean said. “I also have a drake, and I can aid you.”

  “No, this I do myself,” Gorliad replied evenly. “I have seen what is coming. It is only a fight dragons can make. Among the dragons, only the kings and Ancients can stand a chance to survive the fight. Drones, drakes, lesser dragons, and even greater dragons would all be consumed by the void. So, stay here, and defend the mountain, and the dwarves inside. I expect to find orc corpses by the score, but not one shall be within ten meters of this opening. Am I understood?”

  Hermean twirled his axe over in his hands. “No one shall reach twenty meters of our home,” he pledged.

  Gorliad smiled. Then he turned and saw a dark form floating through the night sky. It hovered above the orcs, first appearing as a sphere, then a great dragon, and then a formless, nameless beast that snarled.

  “It is here.” Gorliad stretched his wings and launched from the mountain. The runes he had seen burned in his mind. The fires in his soul yearned to be released. He flew out beyond the forest, well over the tundra, and then he unleashed a wave of fire upon the orcish army below.

  The foul creatures shrieked and shied away, but the army behind continued to push forward. There were thousands of them streaming into the valley.

  The void slashed at him with a dark, cold tentacle. Gorliad felt the thing go through him. It didn’t stab him, nor did it cut him, yet somehow it had passed through him and sliced at his very soul. He lashed out with his teeth and the tentacle shattered apart only to reform into the whole.

  The void laughed and circled around Gorliad, striking out and blasting the dragon from every angle. Gorliad responded with fire, burning holes through the darkness only to watch it reconnect. The dragon flew through an onslaught of icy ten
tacles that stung his very core. He pushed through the pain, turned around and blasted the dark, shifting form with the same fire of light that he used to make the pillar in the sky. No sooner did the light touch the velvety black void than a horrid squeal came from the blackness. Bits and pieces of the darkness fell, floating down to the ground below like burning embers.

  The void answered with a full force strike. It swerved out to the side and then blasted through Gorliad, flipping him end over end and nearly knocking him from the sky. Gorliad barely managed to right himself when another smashing blow came from above, driving him down to the ground. The blackness spread out over him and they crashed into the army marching toward the mountain. Many orcs were crushed under the dragon’s weight, many more were flung aside like water splashed from a living puddle.

  Gorliad came to his senses just in time to see a throng of hungry orcs closing in around him. He bathed them in fire and swept others aside with his tail.

  The void still fought to press him down to the ground from above.

  Spears and arrows sailed at Gorliad. Luckily, his scales protected him from the orcish weapons, but the void nearly had his head pinned on the ground. Without his fire, the orcs would climb over him like ants on a hunk of meat.

  He roared out, spewing both flame and light from his mouth. He managed to turn his neck enough to sear the formless void and force it away from him. With a single hop he crushed seven orcs under his left foreleg. His tail swept dozens more out over the tundra. He followed that with a massive blast of fire aimed directly at the ground below him. The flames fanned out around him, catching any that tried to close in on him. Then, with the orcs running scared, he leapt into the air once more and flew hard for the shifting dark form that was now sailing for the mountain.

  A blast of light to the left of the void made it steer away from the mountain, turning to dash out over the ocean toward the west. Gorliad zipped in, only to have the void expand and swallow him into it. Powerful fingers wrapped around Gorliad’s snout and held it closed. The dragon clawed and struggled against the darkness. Nothing helped.

  The void laughed and clamped down on him. It squeezed harder and harder. Gorliad could barely breathe. His lungs hardly drew enough breath to fuel his fires. Then, an idea came to him. His mouth was closed, but his nostrils were still open. He concentrated his light-fire and blasted it out from his nostrils. The light tore through the darkness and the void uncoiled itself from the dragon. Gorliad pressed the fight. His light burned and scorched the void, driving it farther and farther away from the mountain.

  The mocking, confident laughter was no longer heard now. Now the only sound Gorliad heard was the screeching screams and shrieks of an enemy burned and driven away. Out to the north they flew now. Gorliad chased it furiously, blasting it with his light-fire and ripping hunks of the velvety black form off. This time, when the void fanned out and stopped in midair to catch him, the burgundy dragon blew a hole clean through the trap and flew through it, and then he flipped onto his back and shot several more streaks of light-fire over his stomach to blast the thing. The void hissed and fell to the ground.

  Gorliad circled triumphantly over it, following it as it fluttered to the ground. He sent continual shots at it, not willing to let it have even a single moment to heal or escape. By the time it struck the ground, the void was little more than a meter long, and its form appeared almost viscous.

  Gorliad took in a deep breath. He opened his mouth wide, pulling in all the air he could for his final assault.

  That is when the black form sprang up with such speed that it managed to invade Gorliad’s mouth before the dragon knew what had happened. Gorliad’s stomach turned sour. The fires in his chest winked out. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. A strange, burning sensation ripped through him. A dark haze clouded his mind and pulled at his soul.

  “You can’t defeat me,” a voice mocked from within him. “You are a servant. You are not a king!”

  Gorliad could hear all the voices from his past. It was as if it all was happening again right now. Beleriad stood next to him cursing and taunting him right before destroying the beavers. Ceadryl sneered and sniggered at him. Algearon appeared and moved up to Gorliad’s face.

  “I told you that dragons don’t have friends,” Algearon said. “Where are your so-called friends now? They are leaving you to your death. Foolish servant.”

  Siravel moved in and sniffed him. “You are no son of mine, servant,” she said.

  “He should be killed for stealing my food!” Beleriad shouted. “Kill him!”

  Geldryn then appeared, standing over Dermarak’s dismembered head. “You have overstepped your station. I have no choice but to end your shame.” The massive black dragon opened his mouth and swallowed Gorliad in a single gulp. Gorliad tumbled down to land in a pool of green acid. It burned and stung his flesh, ripping through his scales.

  The burgundy dragon tried to escape, but then a great leviathan of crystal emerged from the pool of acid and wrapped itself around Gorliad’s throat. A tail of barbed spikes rose up over Gorliad’s stomach.

  “I told you,” the leviathan hissed. “You have no power over me!” The tail came down and the barbed spikes pierced through Gorliad’s stomach. The pain was blinding. The dragon writhed and tried to wriggle free, but the leviathan only tightened its grip. Gorliad watched in horror as blood poured out from his underbelly. He had lost.

  The others had been right.

  He was not as good as other kings.

  He was not strong enough.

  The tail ripped free of his stomach only to crash down onto his side. The barbs caught in the ribs and the leviathan jerked the bones apart as it struggled to loosen its tail

  At that moment, Gorliad saw a faint shimmer of light high above him in the darkness. He couldn’t be sure, but it almost looked like the aurora. Seeing the light, he remembered the dwarves in the mountain. In an instant he relived their journey to the mountain, and their labors to create their new home. The fires in his chest were reborn, small at first, but hot and angry.

  He was not about to let the void win.

  He was strong enough.

  He had defeated each of these foes before.

  Gorliad looked to the laughing image of Algearon and shook his head. “You are not Algearon,” Gorliad shouted at the apparition. Using his mind he stripped the apparition of its shirt and saw the scars from the atorat. “I know you are my friend.”

  Algearon stopped laughing and faded away into nothingness.

  The leviathan gripped harder and wrenched its tail free from the burgundy dragon’s side, flinging bits of flesh and bone out over the pool of acid. “You are dead,” Gorliad said. He stopped struggling against the crystalline snake. As he relaxed, so too did the snake. It hissed and shattered across the pool similarly to how it had been dashed over the ground.

  Gorliad stood, watching as his imagined wounds healed and his strength returned. He then roared with all of his strength. Fire and light mixed into a single column of golden light, hot as the sun. The void hissed and screamed in pain. Lightning and thunder shook the area, but Gorliad stood firm.

  There was a resounding crack that echoed across the mountains and tundra. The void exploded and burned to ash, never to reconnect or move again.

  The haze over the land was lifted, and the moon and stars beamed down upon the kingdom in all their glory.

  A fading hiss was all that remained of the void.

  Gorliad roared again and then took back to the skies. Even now the orcs were running away. Pockets of orcs and ogres were entangled in a bitter battle. Dwarves hacked them down and corpses littered the mountainside. As the dwarves had promised, none of the orcs or ogres had come within twenty meters of the entrance.

  As Gorliad roared and sent his golden fire into the army, the orcs’ morale was shattered. The dwarves cheered as Gorliad gave chase to the enemy. The burgundy king spent the remainder of the night consuming all children of the void
with his fire. The army scattered before the marvelous dragon, never to return again.

  When the dawn broke, the sun’s light fell upon a new kingdom, sealing the void’s banishment from the mountain, and all that Gorliad now claimed.

  Chapter 33

  “Algearon,” Siravel said with her pleasant, yet dangerous voice. “Did you see the pillar in the sky to the south?”

  Algearon shook his head. “I am not out of the mountain at night,” he said.

  “Don’t play coy with me!” Siravel shouted. “The pillar is equally visible in the daytime as well. You go out for your lessons with Beleriad, how could you not notice?”

  Beleriad stood next to Siravel and stared down at Algearon. “Perhaps he is one of those that helped Gorliad,” Beleriad said.

  Algearon shook his head. “I have always served the true prince,” he said. “By the scars of my…”

  “Left shoulder, I know,” Siravel said. “It was a smart ruse at first,” she said. “How could I doubt one who swears allegiance to the prince? Until, I realized that those scars upon your shoulder you received when an atorat attacked you.”

  “That is true,” Algearon said, his voice trembling slightly.

  “Who saved you from that atorat?” Siravel pressed.

  Algearon bent his head lower to the ground.

  “Afraid to look your queen in the eye?” Siravel hissed. “It was Gorliad who saved you from the atorat’s bite. Do you deny it?”

  Algearon shook his head.

  The ground in the main hall trembled and Geldryn entered. “What is this about?” he demanded.

  Siravel pointed a single talon to Algearon. “I believe he has been helping Gorliad,” Siravel said.

  Geldryn circled around Algearon and snorted. “Why would you say that?”