Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  “We found crystals that glow,” one of the miners said.

  Minirteal chuckled softly, offering the miner a casual nod and then looked back to Gorliad. “Well, can you handle some more news?” she asked.

  “Have you finished the mill with the dwarves in the forest?” Gorliad asked.

  Minirteal cocked her head to the side and pressed her lips flat. She shook her head. “I have noticed we are lacking a couple things in the mountain,” she said cryptically.

  Gorliad looked around him at the miners. The dwarves shrugged and offered no help. “What?” Gorliad asked finally.

  “You have built good dwellings for the dwarves and many good chambers for gathering and eating but there is something else we need.”

  “Oh,” Gorliad said with sudden realization across his face. He smiled and nodded. “You are right. I should build you your own den. I can start that right away. We can even use some of these new crystals to decorate it. We can place them in the ceiling to look like stars and—”

  “No, Gorliad,” Minirteal said sternly. “I am more than happy staying with you in your chamber,” she said.

  Gorliad frowned. “Then what?” he asked.

  Minirteal looked at him with her inviting blue eyes. Finally her straight face cracked and a smile stretched her lips over her fangs. “We need a nursery,” she said.

  “A nursery!” Gorliad shouted. The dwarves around started clapping and cheering. “Are you?” Gorliad looked to Minirteal’s abdomen and then cocked his head. He glanced back up to his wife’s eyes and saw her smiling back at him.

  “Come, we have a new room to locate,” one of the dwarves said.

  Gorliad limped forward as softly as he could manage and wrapped his neck around Minirteal’s in a warm embrace. “We are going to have hatchlings,” he whispered.

  Minirteal laughed aloud and then pulled away to turn and go back up the tunnel. “Come, I will need it before the week is out.”

  Gorliad rushed up to the main tunnel to find that all of the dwarves were already busy running about. They hardly noticed him, except to stay out of his way as he limped along the corridor. He scanned the walls, looking for a suitable place. He knew it couldn’t be too close to the entrance, as that would invite danger. Deeper in the mountain would mean more work, but it would be safer and warmer for the eggs. He found himself moving along an unfinished corridor that spiraled gently up into the heart of the mountain. It then levelled out to end in a small chamber. It was plain, but it could easily be expanded.

  “Here,” Gorliad said. “I can make a nursery here.”

  Minirteal nodded as she came to stand beside him. “We can make a nursery here.”

  Gorliad looked to his queen and smiled.

  Over the next several hours the two of them tore and dug at the rock, carving and expanding the chamber. Dwarves brought carts up and cleared the rubble away. Before the sun went down they had expanded the chamber four-fold. The two took a break, cuddling together in the far corner.

  Hermean and a couple others came into the room pushing and pulling a cart holding a buffalo carcass. A minute or so later, another cart appeared.

  “Thought you could use some food,” Hermean said with a smile. “Heard the news, congratulations.”

  Gorliad beamed. Minirteal nodded her thanks and moved over to eat. As the queen worked on the first buffalo, Hermean moved in to stare at the ceiling and the walls. “We can reassign some workers to come in here and polish this room off. Do you know how much bigger you want it?”

  Minirteal stopped eating long enough to say, “At least twice what it is now.”

  Hermean nodded. “What kind of decorations did you have in mind?”

  “Most nurseries are plain,” Minirteal said.

  “This is not a plain mountain,” Gorliad replied with a smirk. “This is our mountain. Let’s dress it with the crystals we found below.”

  “I thought those were going in my chamber,” Minirteal teased.

  “I thought you liked sleeping with me in our chamber,” Gorliad fired back.

  Hermean cleared his throat. “No dragon fights today, if you please. We did just find a gas vein earlier.”

  Gorliad and Minirteal laughed. The two dragons finished their food and then they all retired for the night.

  Long after Minirteal had fallen asleep, Gorliad laid awake, looking up at the mosaic above him and thinking about what kind of egg might come first. Would it be a female, or male? Would it be colored like him, or maybe like Minirteal? Perhaps it would be different altogether. There was no way to know such things in advance. He spent the night thinking of the possibilities. Along with them, he let his mind drift to the challenges. There were no dragons here to instruct the hatchling as there had been in Geldryn’s mountain. That meant he and Minirteal would have to teach it what to do.

  He looked to his lovely wife and sucked in a breath. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. This was different from fighting something. A hatchling would be little, and depend upon the whole mountain for support. Gorliad slipped out from beside his wife and silently stole his way back to the new nursery.

  When he finally arrived at the nursery he was surprised to see well over one hundred dwarves working with hammers and chisels. He looked up and saw many of the blue crystals in the ceiling. Three dwarves worked on polishing and setting the blue crystals just perfectly in settings of silver. The chamber had been expanded per Minirteal’s wishes and the walls were in the process of being smoothed, polished, and decorated with gems and inlay to create different scenes along each wall.

  The dragon moved in and the dwarves stopped working all at once to watch him. The burgundy king’s mouth fell open as he looked to the finished designs. In the northern wall was an image of Gorliad fighting a dragon as a hatchling in a pool of water. Adjacent to that was a scene of Gorliad at the beaver pond, and beyond that one was one of him rescuing Algearon from an atorat.

  He moved his gaze to see several more scenes. His fight with the frost trolls, the ice wraiths, and the Burork and leviathan. An unfinished army of orcs was in the process of being put into the wall nearby.

  Hermean walked up to him. “Sorry it isn’t finished,” he said. “We hadn’t intended for you to see it like this.”

  Gorliad turned to the opposite wall and saw only the beginnings of a design there. “What goes there?” he asked.

  Hermean nodded and pointed. “We were going to draw the battle with the void. I was thinking of showing the pillar of light over an army of orcs and spiders, with you piercing the darkness with your flame.”

  Gorliad nodded and then turned to the far wall, which was still being smoothed and polished. “And there?”

  Hermean smiled. “We would draw scenes of you and Minirteal together. That way it shows the entire history of the mountain, from your first struggles to the day we designed the nursery.”

  Gorliad nodded, but he said nothing.

  “Is it alright?” Hermean asked.

  Gorliad looked up to the blue crystals and tears filled his eyes. “And the crystals for stars,” he said. “Yes, it is good. I like it very much.” He turned to address the dwarves. “You have my thanks, more than I can adequately express.”

  Hermean slapped Gorliad’s good foreleg and chuckled. “We love you, dragon-friend,” he said.

  Gorliad nodded and moved to the exit. Now he no longer worried about raising the first hatchlings. He would not be left to himself. He cast one final glance over his shoulder and looked to the bright, blue crystals. “Can I ask for one thing?”

  “Name it,” Hermean said.

  Gorliad looked to the floor and smiled. “If it isn’t too much trouble, can we paint poppies along the floor?”

  Hermean smiled. “Of course, my king. I had already planned on doing just that. I remember that field you showed me those many years ago.”

  Gorliad smiled and turned to leave again.

  The nursery was completed three days later, which was not a single m
oment too soon. As Gorliad showed the chamber to his wife, she felt the beginning pains and moved into the corner under the mural of the two of them. A handful of she-dwarves rushed in with buckets of water and shewed everyone from the chamber.

  Gorliad stood outside the nursery, peeking in occasionally and watching as the female dwarves busied about Minirteal’s lower half. His view wasn’t very good, but he could see that she was in discomfort. Minirteal moaned and breathed heavily as the dwarves dipped into the buckets of water and did what they could to help. The next three hours they all remained inside. A couple of times one of the dwarf females would run out with an empty bucket to refill it and return.

  The first time she nearly slammed into Gorliad’s leg, but instead of a disapproving look the dwarf offered him an appreciative smile. After the first time, she would offer quick updates as she passed by.

  “All is going well,” she would say.

  Eventually a large, bloody egg slipped out with a schllipop! Gorliad couldn’t wait anymore. He moved into the nursery and nuzzled his tired wife’s head.

  “Kings don’t usually watch,” Minirteal chided playfully.

  “I am not a usual king,” Gorliad replied. He looked down to the egg and watched with baited breath as the dwarves took to clearing and cleaning the muck from the shell.

  “Good strong shell,” one of them said. “That is a good sign.”

  Gorliad smiled to his wife and she grinned back.

  The white of the shell shone bright as the gunk was cleared away. Then, there near the top he saw a spot of red. His breath caught in his chest. A crowned egg. The dwarves started giggling excitedly. They cleaned more vigorously, moving quicker and sloshing the water over the egg. A moment later, the spot cracked, and slid off the top. The dwarves sighed and moaned as the red spot turned out to be nothing more than an extra firm scale of birthing material.

  “I am sorry,” Minirteal offered.

  Gorliad smiled and shook his head. “Sorry to give me an egg?” he echoed questioningly. “Spot or no spot, that is our egg.”

  The dwarves smiled at that, Minirteal did as well. Then the female dragon rested her head down to the ground and closed her eyes.

  “The first time is the hardest,” one of the female dwarves said. “She will just need a little rest. Should be fine within a day or so.”

  Gorliad bent down and nuzzled his wife’s cheek, and then he thanked the female dwarves and left the nursery.

  Over the next couple of years there were many, many more eggs to follow the first. Within four years the mountain saw two normal dragon hatchlings, one lesser dragon, and thirteen greater dragons. The whole mountain was alive and teeming with youth and energy. The dwarves played alongside the dragons, and the young of both species mingled freely, without regard for the traditional classes or norms.

  Peace is rarely meant to last, however, and Gorliad could sense a shift in the land as the year drew to a close.

  Chapter 36

  Beleriad paced in the upper nursery. His brooding steps shook the room and caused the walls to tremble. Algearon sat on the rocker in the far corner of the chamber as best he could.

  “Something troubling you, my prince?” Algearon asked.

  Beleriad looked back to the dwarf and snorted. Then he resumed pacing. His big, black tail swished and scraped angrily across the stone, kicking up the bits of rock and dust in the room. The dragon turned suddenly and looked at Algearon again. “Did you persuade my father to postpone my ascension to the prnce’s chamber?” he asked.

  “No, my prince, I have never spoken to the king of such a thing.” Algearon pulled out his pipe and lit the cherry flavored tobacco inside.

  “Then why must I wait until a week from today before I can go into the chamber?” Beleriad pressed.

  Algearon shook his head and spoke through a cloud of smoke. “I am sure I don’t know.”

  “It is still that Gorliad!” Beleriad grumbled. “I hunt better than he did. I learned to fly faster than he did.”

  “Yes, you learned to fly much faster than he,” Algearon put in. “You not only picked it up faster, but you are able to do things in the air that he was never able to do, on account of his broken wing and all.”

  “No!” Beleriad thundered. “Not because of his broken wing, because I am better.” He drummed his talons on the stone. “I am better than him in every way.”

  “Not every way,” Algearon grumbled through a draw on the pipe.

  “What was that?” Beleriad shouted.

  “I said, ‘in every way’ my prince,” Algearon shouted back. “You have taken to your lessons well. Your discipline and dedication are second to none. I have never heard of nor seen your equal when it comes to preparations and lessons. All benchmarks have been exceeded.”

  “Then why does he hold me back?” Beleriad snarled.

  Algearon stood up from his chair and cleared his throat. He bit the pipe between his teeth and took a long pull on the pipe. Then he released the smoke and took a few steps toward Beleriad. “May I speak freely, my prince?”

  Beleriad sneered down at him. “Speak.”

  “Perhaps you will recall the plaques in the upper reaches on the mountain, in the tunnel leading up to the prince’s chamber and the king’s very chamber. I think the king grows weary of losing sons. You are the youngest son, and for all intents and purposes you are the last, or at least you shall be the last for many years to come. High Queen Siravel no longer bears eggs, and there are no other queens to take her place.”

  “That should not prevent me from reaching my destiny!” Beleriad shouted. “What affair is it of mine if this kingdom produces no more princes?”

  Algearon choked on his pipe, coughing up smoke and slamming his fist on his chest. “This mountain is your home, Beleriad. Surely you must feel something for what the king is going through? He is losing his lifelong mate. His youngest, and possibly final son is chomping at the chance to take off and conquer the wilds when none of his older sons have lasted in the wilds. Have some empathy, some compassion.”

  Beleriad dropped his head down level with Algearon and looked into the dwarf’s eyes. “A dragon has no friends, remember?” he said. “I exist to conquer and to rule. My destiny, my calling in this life is to stake my claim and hold dominion over a piece of this land.”

  “With respect, it is a destiny that has slain all of Geldryn’s other sons.”

  “Not all!” Beleriad growled. Algearon stepped back, shying away from the hot, angry breath. “Gorliad lives! He is allowed to claim a kingdom for himself, while I am not even permitted to take my rightful place in the prince’s chamber!”

  “The servant is dead,” Algearon said with a wave. “It is inconceivable that a lame dragon could survive the wilds.”

  “Spare me your opinions,” Beleriad said. “I know he is there. Ceadryl has seen him.”

  Algearon closed his mouth and stared wide-eyed at the black prince. “He saw him?” he asked after a moment.

  Beleriad nodded. “Ever since the pillar in the south, I knew Gorliad lived. As long as he lives, I will not be allowed my destiny.”

  “No,” Algearon said.

  “Yes!” Beleriad shouted. “My father knows that Gorliad will hunt me as soon as I leave the kingdom. That is the real reason he holds me back. That is the only reason that makes sense.”

  “But you are superior in every way,” Algearon stammered. “Why should you fear a cripple?”

  “Ceadryl saw his mountain. Gorliad has dwarves. He has hatchlings. He even has a queen!” Beleriad lashed out and tore deep gouges in the stone with his sharp talons. “The cripple has a queen while I am held back, damned to remain in the nursery, a place fit for hatchlings!”

  Algearon took a couple of steps back. “I could talk with the king. Let me see what his heart is on this matter.”

  “No,” Beleriad snarled. “You will sit here. I will handle this myself. I will show him that I can handle Gorliad. I will take an army to the south, a
nd I will crush the usurper. Then, when father sees Gorliad’s head, he will let me ascend to my rightful place. That is how it must be.”

  “I forbid this,” Algearon said. “As the royal hatcher you are my charge until the king promotes your station. You must stay here.” Algearon pointed to the floor to emphasize his words.

  Beleriad moved his head closer to the dwarf and sneered. “Is it my safety you fight for, or do you yet love the false prince?”

  “With all the truth in my soul,” Algearon began, “I can tell you with a surety that I do not love the false prince.”

  “Then if your concern is for my safety, you may relax. I will take Ceadryl, and many others with me.”

  “If you are to go, then listen to me,” Algearon pleaded. “If you want to please your father, and prove you are ready for the prince’s chamber, there is only one way to conduct this battle.”

  Beleriad stopped and cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

  “When a dragon attacks a king there are two ways to issue the challenge. You can attack with an army, or you can attack and issue a challenge to fight one on one.”

  “I will take the army,” Beleriad said.

  “No, that is wrong, my prince,” Algearon said. “If you crush a smaller force with such experienced warriors, it will not bring as much honor. Yet, if you conquer Gorliad in singular combat, you will bring honor back to your father. Gorliad’s army will be bound to watch as you slay him. If they fight, and break the rules of the challenge, then your army is free to slaughter them, and you will still have a most honorable victory. Better still, if his dwarves honor the code, and allow you to fight one on one against Gorliad, the fight will be a simple victory for you. After all, he is lame, is he not? You can then claim his queen as your own, and she will be bound to serve you. The dwarves as well, but of course you can kill most of them and keep only those you deem worth sparing. The land you can either keep or forfeit back to the wilds as you see fit. Either way, you will bring honor to your father. It is the best way.”