Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  Beleriad stood for a moment and then a devilish grin stretched over his fangs. “Then I shall take many dragon warriors, and they will watch me destroy Gorliad. I shall eat his hearts and bring his head back to my father. Then the mountain will be whole again. My father will let me advance to my rightful station. My mother will see her rightful son finally triumph over the usurper, and I shall even have a queen. Yes, I shall enjoy this very much.”

  Beleriad exited the chamber, leaving Algearon standing in the middle of the floor. The dwarf’s hands trembled. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. He could only hope that Gorliad was ready for this challenge. Algearon had done all he could to make it fair, yet even in singular combat, the fight would be anything but equal, the dwarf knew.

  “Oh, Aurorean, may your mercy shine upon the true prince now,” Algearon whispered. The dwarf hurried back to his dresser and pulled out a red vest. He slipped it on over his tunic and started fidgeting with the buttons. His fingers trembled and he kept missing the holes. In a fit, he ripped the vest off and threw it on the ground. He pulled the pipe from his mouth and set it down as well, expelling the last of the cherry flavored smoke from his lungs.

  The dwarf moved out from the upper nursery and down the long hallway. He didn’t run, for he didn’t intend on catching up with Beleriad, but he walked briskly. When he reached the main tunnel he turned left and made his way deeper into the mountain. He had to tell Geldryn. The king would put a stop to it. Algearon would talk about tradition and how it was improper to conquer another kingdom before ascending to the prince’s chamber. Yes, that would do. That should be enough to convince Geldryn to keep Beleriad in the mountain.

  The dwarf was still brooding and huffing as he entered the main hall. His eyes focused down on the ground and his pounding steps echoed throughout the chamber. He crossed most of the hall before he even noticed the other presence, all the while he continued to spout off about tradition and propriety.

  “Going somewhere?” a silvery voice asked.

  Algearon froze mid-step and looked up to see Siravel coiled near the exit that led up to Geldryn’s chamber.

  “I have urgent news for the king,” Algearon said.

  Siravel sighed and a slight grin curled the corners of her mouth upward. “So I heard,” she said. “You appear to be quite angered over nothing at all,” she continued. “Beleriad is the prince. Do you not support the true prince?”

  Algearon knelt to a knee. His hands started to shake, so he wrung them together and kept his head bent low. He had to choose his words carefully, otherwise the high queen would force herself into his mind and uncover the truth. “I support the true prince,” he said.

  “He and I have discussed this at length. Beleriad told me that Ceadryl found Gorliad. Apparently the servant has thought himself above his station. He brings shame and dishonor to this mountain so long as he lives. I cannot abide that.”

  “No,” Algearon agreed. “The tradition and laws do not permit such a thing.”

  “Yet you would have the king stop Beleriad from venturing out and taking the claim for himself, why?”

  “My queen, there is no sense in this. Beleriad is not yet ready. He has as yet not ascended to the prince’s chamber.”

  “Nor will he,” Siravel put in. “At least, not as long as Gorliad lives.”

  “So it is true then?” Algearon asked. “Beleriad just told me that he surmised you feared Gorliad would attack him. Is that so?”

  Siravel nodded. “I do indeed believe that. As for Geldryn, I cannot say what his particular motives are. He has distanced himself from me of late and I cannot understand why. It has come to me that perhaps the stain of Gorliad’s dishonor is what makes Geldryn withdraw. He has grown distant from me, and less accepting of Beleriad also. This is something I will not tolerate. Beleriad will go and challenge Gorliad. He will challenge him one on one, as you instructed, so that he may fully restore the king’s honor and heritage.”

  Siravel crawled in close and pulled Algearon’s face up toward hers with a single, sharp talon.

  “Beleriad saw me outside as he left. He told me all about your conversation a short while ago. It was good of you to give him such advice. With a queen in his dominion, and lands as well, Beleriad will be able to present a fine gift to his father and he will at last be permitted to enter the prince’s chamber.”

  “I live only to serve,” Algearon said weakly, though his jaw was nearly held in place by the strong talon digging under his chin.

  “Tell me, and look into my eyes as you speak, which dragon do you wish to see the victor?” Siravel’s question carried with it a sharp, poisonous tone. Algearon knew that to answer incorrectly would bring death. First he would die, then she would scour his mind and find the others. In this one moment, he held their fates in his hands.

  “My queen,” he began somberly. “I have ever served faithfully. From the time I have been appointed as the royal hatcher I have only had one aim, to see the crown prince grow to take his rightful place. There have been setbacks, and it is true that I failed to protect Gorliad. For that I offer you my life, and my head. Take them and cast them aside if you will. However, if you allow me to live, I will yet prove to you that I support your son, the true prince. I pray even now that the Aurorean grant him strength to overcome in this impending battle. I envision for him a great kingdom, one that will restore honor to this kingdom, and create a strong line of dragons the likes of which have never before been known on Kendualdern, for I believe he possesses this within him. That is my heart, and that is my allegiance.”

  Siravel looked deeply into Algearon’s eyes. The dwarf did not shy away. He faced her boldly, knowing that all of the words he had said were true.

  The high queen pulled her talon away, leaving nothing but a sore spot under Algearon’s chin. “Your words are true, Algearon,” she said at last. “Were they not true, I would know.” She then turned toward the tunnel leading up to Geldryn’s chamber. “Go, and wait for my son to return. I shall… keep Geldryn occupied.” Siravel swished her tail and Algearon knew her meaning. He bowed and turned to leave.

  As he left the chamber he thanked the Aurorean for the fact that Siravel had misunderstood, and believed Algearon to be talking of Beleriad, when in fact he had spoken only of Gorliad, the true prince.

  *****

  “My king,” Hermean said as his drake screeched to a sliding halt in the council chamber. Gorliad and Minirteal looked up from playing with a pair of young blue hatchlings.

  “I have a name,” Gorliad replied. “Must I remind you what it is?”

  Hermean shook his head quickly. “No time for apologies, you must come outside at once.”

  “What is the matter?” Minirteal asked. She rose up with Gorliad and started to turn and walk beside her husband.

  Hermean held out a hand and shook his head. “No, Gorliad must go alone.”

  “What is this?” the burgundy king asked.

  “Your brother, the black prince, has come.”

  Gorliad stiffened and fell silent. The pair of hatchlings must have sensed the gravity of the situation, for they scurried under their mother’s legs and hid from Hermean. None of them said a word for a long while. Gorliad glanced from Hermean to the cave, and then to his young hatchlings and his wife.

  “He has brought an army with him, sire,” Hermean continued.

  “He means to slay us all,” Gorliad said barely louder than a whisper. “Call everyone into the mountain.”

  “Everyone is inside the mountain sire,” Hermean said. “I gave that order when I spotted the first sign of them coming. He has brought well over a dozen other dragons with him. There are also soldiers riding drakes, expeditionary forces by the looks of their armor. They came and landed down beyond the forest.”

  “Has he said anything?” Gorliad asked.

  Hermean nodded. “He said he was here to challenge you. He said if you agreed to the challenge it would be a duel. If you rejec
t the challenge, then he will use his army.”

  Gorliad growled deep and low. His pure, white eyes focused on the exit, narrowing as a tendril of smoke snaked out from the end of his snout. “I suppose there is no other way.”

  “GORLIAD!” a horrible, thunderous roar ripped through the mountain. “Come out from your hole and face me openly!”

  Gorliad dropped his head and sighed. “Minirteal, take everyone to the upper chambers. I will buy whatever time I can. Get the dwarves and young up as well.” He shook his head and took in a deep breath. “Should I lose, he will come to claim you, and he will look to destroy our hatchlings.”

  Minirteal snarled. “You won’t lose, but on the off chance that one of the invading dragons comes into the mountain, you can be sure that I will not submit, nor will I allow them to touch our young.” Her icy blue eyes sparkled with an angry fire that gave Gorliad a boost of strength.

  “WHERE IS THE SERVANT?” Beleriad shouted from without the mountain. “WHERE IS THE FALSE KING WHO STEALS WHAT IS NOT HIS?”

  Gorliad began limping through the tunnels. “HOLD, BELERIAD, I AM COMING.” The entire mountain shook and trembled at Gorliad’s yell. His voice echoed through the halls and out in the tundra beyond. There was only silence then. The burgundy king moved through the tunnels that he had built with his own strength alongside his dwarves. He scanned the gold and silver inlay once more, admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into the mountain. At his feet stood a row of dwarves. Fenerir stood with several warriors flat against the wall, watching as Gorliad passed by them.

  Gorliad’s mind went to all of his other battles. Each had been tough, but none would be as dangerous as this one, he knew. A rival dragon would be equal in many ways that the other monsters never could have been. Beleriad was a dragon, a master of the skies like Gorliad. There would be no reprieve or respite found in the clouds this time. On land, or in the air, there would be only battle. Furthermore, both dragons had had the same instructors and tutors. They would know each of the strategies taught to the other, and how to counter them. The only real advantage Gorliad had was experience. He had at least forged his way through the tundra and the wilds with tooth and claw. Beleriad did not have such experience.

  Beleriad did have all of his limbs, however.

  As the burgundy dragon emerged he heard Beleriad laugh at him. Other dragons in the group joined in, mocking Gorliad as he limped down the mountainside. Beleriad had matured to his full size. He was as large as Gorliad now, measuring fifty meters long and roughly thirty-five meters tall. His scales had hardened too. Some along his spine had even grown small spikes and nodes. Yet for all of that, it was the tail that grabbed Gorliad’s attention. It was long, and lean. The end was split into two massive spikes, much like the tail of the green dragon that had injured Gorliad as a hatchling.

  “By the Aurorean,” Beleriad shouted. “Use your wings. If you try to walk all this way I may die of old age before we can begin.”

  Gorliad let the words roll off of him. He wanted to walk. In the extra time it took to limp down to Beleriad, Gorliad was able to watch and study his brother. If he flew to him, that would be an opportunity lost. The burgundy king noted Ceadryl standing near Beleriad. Others whom Gorliad had once thought his friends also stood with the black prince. He studied them too.

  As he made his way the last hundred meters to Beleriad, the dragons, dwarves, and drakes all formed a great semi-circle. Everyone wanted a decent vantage point from which to watch the battle, it seemed. Gorliad looked to his brother and for a moment he saw the young, black hatchling that had once pulled on his tail. A pang of sorrow crept into his heart.

  “Beleriad, brother, we don’t have to do this. I mean no harm to any dragons of Kendualdern. I wish only to live in peace. Retract your challenge and return home. You can conquer much better lands than these, and gain much glory for yourself elsewhere.”

  “Brother?” Beleriad echoed sarcastically. The black prince turned his head to regard Ceadryl. “Of whom does this usurper speak?”

  Gorliad snorted. “We are born of the same blood, are we not?”

  Beleriad shook his head and turned back to Gorliad. “We are no more brothers than a dwarf can be sibling to a goat.”

  Gorliad had expected such words from Beleriad. Still, they clawed at Gorliad’s soul much more so than even he thought they would. “Why should we quarrel when there are yet lands unconquered for you to claim?” Gorliad asked.

  “Where is your queen?” Beleriad asked. “Tell her to come out, I wish to see her.”

  “You will not see her,” Gorliad said sternly. Beleriad sneered back at him and drew a talon slowly across the snow.

  “Oh, but I will see her. After I finish with you I will claim her for myself and then I will do much more than look at her.” Violently he drove the talon through the ice and ground and he let out a wicked laugh. “And your hatchlings I will destroy, so they will not go through life as the offspring of a servant.”

  The fires burned within Gorliad. No longer did he see a brother. He saw a dragon. A black monster with a forked tail, similar to the one that had given him his lame leg. In his mind he knew what Beleriad would do should he win this challenge.

  That was not a fate Gorliad was willing to accept. He lunged forward and struck Beleriad across the face with a left swipe. The black dragon whipped around, sliding across the ice. Gorliad roared so mightily that all in attendance cowered away.

  Beleriad was quick to recover. He sent a strike of his double-pronged tail at Gorliad. The burgundy dragon ducked below the strike and swiped at it with his left foreleg. He missed. Beleriad turned back around and ran full force into Gorliad. The two collided, but neither of them buckled. Their hind legs tore through the ice and rock as they pushed into each other. Their horns tangled as they wrestled with their necks. Gorliad caught one of Beleriad’s forelegs in his talons, but his right side was left exposed due to the useless right foreleg. Beleriad saw the opening and stabbed at Gorliad’s shoulder with his fearsome talons. They screeched and hissed as they clawed through the spaces between the iron-like scales and cut gashes into Gorliad’s shoulder.

  Gorliad dropped down suddenly, twisting onto his back and using all of his might to flip Beleriad over him and then kick him away.

  The black dragon crashed down forty meters away, crushing a couple dwarves unlucky enough to be standing directly where the beast landed. Gorliad was up on his feet first and he lunged into the air. He let out a blast of fire to blind his opponent, and then he came in with an undersided whip of his tail. The tail flew up under his belly as he crunched his lower torso up for extra force. The tail connected with Beleriad’s jaw, flipping the black prince’s head back with a terrible slak!

  Beleriad jumped back, but it was too late. Gorliad plowed into him, again driving him back down to the ground, only this time Gorliad was on top, and two of Beleriad’s legs were pinned to the ground. The dragons clawed and ripped at each other with their free legs. Beleriad struggled to get free, but Gorliad pressed his weight down on Beleriad and head-butted him in the neck, side of the face, and the front of his chest without letting the black dragon have a moment to recover.

  Then the double-pronged tail wriggled free and arched over Beleriad from the side, almost like a scorpion might strike. It came in fast and straight, driving one of the two points into Gorliad’s right shoulder. The burgundy king roared out in agony and fell back. As he fell, he jerked his torso to the right, and followed through with a savage left foreleg. The blow snapped the spike off from Beleriad’s tail and the black dragon rolled away, writhing in pain.

  Blood coursed over Gorliad’s shoulder, dripping off from his gnarled foreleg. The burgundy dragon stared at Beleriad as the black dragon rolled over the icy ground, spewing blood out from the stub on his tail. The black prince rose to his feet and brought his tail up to his mouth. He blew a hot fire, cauterizing and sealing the wound.

  Gorliad looked around. The other dragons were chanti
ng, hissing and snarling. He knew there would be no victory for him on the ground. Beleriad was too strong, and easily had the advantage with four usable limbs.

  “Let us see who shall rule the skies,” Gorliad said in a hiss.

  Beleriad lunged for him, but Gorliad leapt into the air and drove himself upward with his massive wings. He heard Beleriad crash into the snow and snarl beneath him.

  “You will not escape!” Beleriad growled.

  Gorliad flew up and up. Gravity pulled against the ache in his shoulder. He bent his head to the end of the spike and ripped the shaft free. He flipped it over and then sucked it into his mouth, tucking it against the left row of teeth. Blood began to flow freely from his shoulder, but it was not a grievous wound. Most of the spike had gone through his old scar tissue, and though painful, caused no significant damage. He blasted the hole with a short burst of flame through his nostrils and then redoubled his flying efforts, climbing away from Beleriad.

  The black prince shot a fireball at Gorliad from below. The flames crashed into him, but did no damage. Outpacing the black prince, Gorliad flew up until he was high above the clouds. Then, he changed course and flew directly into a large, pillowy cloud.

  Flames rushed through the cloud.

  Gorliad smiled, knowing that Beleriad could no longer see him. He reached up and took the broken tail spike with his left foreleg, holding it like a dwarf might wield a dagger in an upside-down grip. He flew on, coursing through the cloud as fast as he had ever flown before. Beleriad’s flames were close on his tail, but they did little to clear the cloud.

  As the burgundy king slipped out from the cloud he circled up into the air over the cloud and waited. He could see the tips of Beleriad’s black wings breaking the cloud’s surface as he flew toward him. The flames blasted the cloud before the black prince, but he was so far in the thick of the fog that he could not see the trap. Just before Beleriad exited the cloud, Gorliad roared so mightily that the cloud, and all of Beleriad’s lingering flame, dissipated in the air.