Ascension: The Dragons of Kendualdern

by Sam Ferguson

  Beleriad altered course instinctively, angling up toward the sound. Gorliad opened his mouth and with every bit of strength he conjured forth the light-fire, as he had used against the void. He blasted the blinding, searing hot light into Beleriad’s face. The black dragon recoiled and flipped over to expose his belly as he tried to evade the light.

  Gorliad dove in. With expert aim he sank his teeth into Beleriad’s neck, just below the jaw. At the same time, he drove the broken tail spike into the base of Beleriad’s neck. The spike pierced through scale, then tore deep into the black prince’s flesh. Gorliad then jerked with his whole body still gripping the spike as a handle, and flinging Beleriad forward with his mouth. The black dragon whirled around uncontrollably. Gorliad reached up with his powerful hind legs. One gripped the flailing tail, and the other ripped through Beleriad’s left wing.

  The burgundy dragon struck out with his mouth, biting the right wing and pulling on the bone until it snapped. Blood and bits of leathery flesh fell into Gorliad’s mouth. He knew the wing was now useless. With an added twist of his neck, he snapped the wing in a second place. Beleriad shrieked and offered a blood-curdling scream. Gorliad released Beleriad and watched the bleeding, flailing dragon fall toward the ground. Beleriad spun around slowly, unable to use his wings. His neck trailed behind the descending body, wiggling limply as he careened downward. For a moment, he spun just right so that his eyes met Gorliad’s. In that instant, Gorliad formed the connection.

  “Be gone, Beleriad, and know that I rule the skies.” Gorliad then sent Beleriad the memory of the screaming beavers as they died. Then, he broke the connection and watched the last few seconds before the black prince struck the ground. Snow and dirt billowed out around him, forming a cloud around the black dragon. The sound of bones and scales snapping upon impact echoed off the mountains around them. All of the other dragons were silent.

  Gorliad descended quickly, like an eagle after a rabbit. His hind talons pierced through Beleriad’s neck and with a mighty twist of his massive body he ripped Beleriad’s head clean off, spilling blood upon the few dwarves within ten meters. He then carried the severed head and dropped it in front of Ceadryl. The old dragon bowed its head slightly and backed away from Beleriad’s head.

  “Carry this back to Siravel. Tell her that the southern wilds belong to Gorliad.”

  A few dragons nearby snarled and growled. Gorliad knew he was not beyond all danger just yet. He turned and eyed a pair of orange and black speckled dragons. He saw them hunkering low and pawing the ground. They were obviously contemplating an attack. Gorliad cocked his head and snarled back at them.

  “Your prince issued a challenge. I accepted. I won. To attack me now out of anger will dishonor Beleriad, and King Geldryn,” Gorliad said.

  The dragons did not back down. A third moved in to join the first two. These were not kings, or even greater dragons for that matter. They were of the regular class, and were less than half Gorliad’s size. In the heat of the moment, Gorliad took a different approach.

  The burgundy king whirled around, slapping his tail across all three of the dragons’ faces. Each of them fell to their side, their front halves falling to the ground under the weight of his strike. “Final warning,” Gorliad said. “The challenge is over. Depart with honor, or stay and be torn asunder by the king!” With that he let out a terrible roar that had all nearby cowering. The dwarves and drakes took off to the north, as did most of the dragons. Those that didn’t fly immediately tripped over themselves trying to scamper away on foot.

  The only dragon who stood firm was Ceadryl.

  Gorliad turned to him and growled.

  Ceadryl bent his head low. “King Gorliad, I shall take Beleriad’s head to High Queen Siravel, as you have commanded.” The dragon kept his head bent to the ground as he moved his forelegs out to grip Beleriad’s head. Even in the obeisant bow, Gorliad could see the tears streaming down Ceadryl’s face. The dragon turned, spread its wings and then flew off to the north, carrying the black prince’s head firmly in his clutches.

  Gorliad waited for all of the intruders to disappear beyond the horizon before he allowed himself to relax. After they had departed, he turned to look at his brother’s body. He limped close to it, studying the shiny scales, and watching the blood as it continued to flow out from the open neck. In that moment, Gorliad wept for his brother.

  “Fie the tradition and fie the law,” Gorliad said. “You could have been so much more if not for the hatred and greed in your heart.” Gorliad bent his neck down and sighed. “We could have been so much more than enemies,” he added. Again he thought of the young black hatchling pulling on his tail. A smile came to him when he remembered the time that Beleriad had desired to share his food with him. If only the law and tradition had not stunted the kindness in that hatchling.

  No, it was not only the law, Gorliad knew. The law had not demanded the cruelty that Beleriad displayed at the beaver dam. There was nothing in their tradition about that. In that moment, he understood that the laws and tradition may have pushed Beleriad along the path farther and faster than he otherwise might have gone, but it was still a path that he chose. After all, he was a dragon, the mightiest of all the Aurorean’s creations. What creature could force Beleriad to do anything if it was not already in his nature? Gorliad looked to the mountain. There he saw the fruits of his own path. It was not tradition that found the mountain and gave it to Gorliad. It was him. Despite his flaws and weaknesses, he had chosen his own path, much as Beleriad had.

  Now he would be free of Geldryn’s mountain, he was sure. Free to choose the path for his mountain, and his kingdom. There would be no more princes coming from the north. Gorliad roared triumphantly and placed his left foreleg on Beleriad’s corpse.

  He then exerted all of his strength, dragging the body across the ice and snow. Though tradition called for eating the hearts, Gorliad had no desire to. Instead, he dropped the body over the icy edge of the leviathan’s lake and watched it sink to disappear from view forever.

  Finally, after all these years, he was free.

  Chapter 37

  Geldryn stared at the plaque of stone on the wall in the corridor. He saw the runes, the descriptions of his past princes. His eyes teared up, but he would not let the tears fall. He refused to give that victory to the grief in his heart. There was still hope. There was a name not on the plaque yet, one that could be carved in if he had the power to change tradition. A short, round dwarf dropped a stool before the plaque and climbed atop it. A leather case of tools hung at his waist from a strap over his shoulder. The dwarf took out a hammer and chisel.

  The first strike into the stone cut deep into Geldryn’s soul. The sharp, echoing sound sent a shiver down the king’s spine like nothing else before ever had. Another prince had fallen. Beleriad’s death came before the dragon had even ascended to the prince’s chamber.

  Geldryn bent his head down. The next strike of hammer on chisel made him cringe.

  The black king moved away from the plaque, and found himself wandering despondently into the prince’s chamber. When he arrived, he found Algearon sitting atop the stone altar, holding a blue crystal in his hands.

  The dwarf looked up with sad, red eyes that had obviously been crying. His normally well-kempt beard was slick with tears and matted down. The pipe sat smoldering on the altar beside him.

  “Today is not a cleaning day,” Geldryn said softly.

  Algearon nodded. “Perhaps it should be,” Algearon replied.

  Geldryn moved in to the center of the room and dropped down to the floor, resting his massive body upon the stone. “I did not know Beleriad had gone until long after he had flown to the south,” Geldryn said. He looked to Algearon with his large eyes. The dwarf looked back down to the crystal, avoiding his gaze. “Did you know?” he asked. “You were supposed to be with him.”

  “I did,” Algearon said. “I knew.”

  “You knew,” Geldryn repeated as he let his head drop down to
rest upon his crossed forelegs. Despite his best efforts, a tear slipped out from his left eye. He turned, hiding the tear from the dwarf. “I knew also,” Geldryn said.

  Algearon looked up, his brow drawn together into a knot. “My king?”

  Geldryn offered a weak smile. “I knew of Gorliad,” he clarified. “I saw you in here not so long ago, looking for the crystal of knowledge that would show Gorliad how to claim his own land.”

  Algearon was silent. He barely breathed.

  The king smiled briefly. “If I had wanted to punish you for it, I would have done so then,” he said to put Algearon at ease.

  The dwarf’s eyes widened and then he held the blue crystal up before his face. “It was you then, wasn’t it? You were the one that made the crystal glow.”

  “I did,” Geldryn confirmed.

  “We took it as a sign from the Aurorean,” Algearon admitted. He turned the blue crystal over in his hands and then set it down on the altar beside him. “Why not tell me?”

  Geldryn sighed. “Siravel would never allow it,” he said. “As she grew distant, I tried everything to please her. It soon became obvious that the only bond we shared was Beleriad. She focused all of her energy on him. How could I tell her that I had helped Gorliad? And now, with Beleriad slain by Gorliad, there is no way for me to broach the subject.”

  “You can be proud of him,” Algearon said. The dwarf slid off the altar and moved in close. “He has grown into a fine king.”

  Geldryn smiled. “He was not meant to be a king,” he said. “His crippled state prohibits him by law from ever being such.”

  “Then why did you help him?” Algearon asked.

  Geldryn chuckled through a stream of tears that fell from his eyes freely now. “Because while Gorliad was never destined to be a king after his injury, that dragon has not the heart for anything less. In the beginning, I thought to help him stay close by assigning him to Beleriad. I had hoped that the two would grow to bond together, and that eventually Siravel would accept him again. I suppose she took his injury even harder than I. After the two began to compete, there was no stopping the path they had been set upon.”

  “You could have told Siravel,” Algearon said.

  “Siravel would not have listened. She was already beset upon by other queens. She grew distant from me. What should I have said or done? I did that which I thought would draw her closer to me. That is all I have ever tried to do.”

  “Would you like to see what I saw of Gorliad?” Algearon asked.

  Geldryn turned his head and looked into Algearon’s eyes. “I would.”

  “Will you hold your anger from those of us who support Gorliad?”

  Geldryn nodded. “I have no ill will for those brave enough to defy the traditions. The worst crime I have witnessed has been stealing food and then sneaking into the prince’s chamber. Those seem petty offenses compared with losing the last crowned prince. Show me what you have seen, and let me find some measure of happiness.”

  Algearon moved in close and the two locked eyes. Through the dwarf’s memories Geldryn relived all of Gorliad’s life, from the moment the egg was found, until the most recent time Hermean had come into the mountain. Beyond Gorliad, he saw Dalean, Boneian, and the others who had secretly helped the burgundy dragon. He felt the dwarf’s delight when the light was seen in the south, signifying that Gorliad had indeed claimed a kingdom. Then, he felt resistance.

  The dwarf tried to pull back mentally, tried to escape the king’s connection. Geldryn pressed on, holding the dwarf fast and easily pushing through Algearon’s mental defenses. He watched Algearon’s final conversation with Beleriad. He saw the hatred in his young son’s eyes, and felt the anger and greed in his voice. Afterward he watched Algearon rush to warn him. He saw Siravel stop him.

  Geldryn broke the connection.

  “I am sorry,” Algearon offered as he stumbled down to his knees and fought to catch his breath.

  The black king snarled and a fury of flame and smoke issued out from his snout. “She knew,” he said. “Siravel knew what Beleriad was going to do and she let him go.”

  Algearon bowed his head reverently and remained quiet.

  Geldryn rose to his feet. “A dragon is supposed to be wise,” he said. “Yet it is you, and your friends who remained true to Gorliad, who have proven to be the wisest creatures in this mountain. Gather your friends. Move to the room with Dalean’s son, and wait for me there.”

  “My king?” Algearon asked.

  “I have had enough of tradition, and of this mountain. It is a stain before the Aurorean, and it is unfit for his visage. I will carry these crystals below. You and your friends will pack them carefully. I will deal with Siravel, and the others, and then I shall send you out to take the crystals to Gorliad.”

  *****

  A short while later, after each and every crystal of knowledge was packed and all of Algearon’s compatriots were gathered together, the king went to Siravel’s chamber. His anger swelled within his breast, though even he was unsure whether he was more wroth with the fact that she sent their youngest son out to fight prematurely, or about her disregard for Gorliad. He understood the tradition and the law, for he had built his kingdom upon them, but even still he could not comprehend the callous, cold apathy she held.

  No. It wasn’t apathy, he realized. She hated Gorliad.

  He pushed through a pair of sentries stationed at the entrance to the queen’s hall and walked on. It had been three days since Beleriad’s head had been brought to them. Geldryn had not seen Siravel since that time. The king knew that since their single bond had been broken, Siravel had no more reason to interact with him. She would likely leave soon, as queens sometimes chose to do.

  He burst into her chamber, eyes flashing anger and hot flame shooting out from his mouth, but it all faded away when he saw his beloved queen.

  Siravel lay upon the stone, breathing heavy and wheezing. Splatters of blood dotted the floor and wall before her snout. She turned and looked up, shakily lifting her weak neck to gaze at him.

  “Go,” she said. “Go out.”

  Geldryn shook his head and moved in closer.

  “I do not want you to see me like this,” Siravel said. Suddenly she coughed violently, shaking her whole body. A pair of nursing drones circled around the queen, blowing fire onto the stone to keep the ailing queen warm.

  “How long have you been ill?” Geldryn asked.

  Siravel groaned. “For several years now. Each year grows worse.”

  All of the king’s anger and fury left him as he looked upon his beloved queen. The light in her eyes was dimmer now. He knew she was dying. He put the thoughts of Gorliad from his mind and decided to release Siravel from all of her offenses. He could not confront her now, not like this. Better to let it go.

  Siravel coughed again and a splotch of blood shot out from her snout onto the floor.

  Geldryn bent his neck down and stroked the side of Siravel’s snout with his own, scales sounding like rough leather sliding against wood. “I have always loved you, my Siravel,” he whispered.

  A sparkling, cold tear fell from Siravel’s eye and she looked up to her mate. “Oh why could you not say that before?” She pulled her head away and blinked as another pair of tears rolled over her scales. “The things I have done just to hear these words from you.”

  “Siravel, I love thee like the flower loves the sun. My heart follows your every move like the blossom turns to feel the warmth and golden heat. The petals of my life sparkle only with your help, and they shall fall when I can no longer abide in your glow. I will do anything to keep you content. That is all I have ever tried to do.”

  Siravel stretched upward, struggling and trembling as her worldly strength left her. “And I have only sought to make you pleased,” Siravel said. She pledged her undying love to him in a whispered kiss, and then pulled back to look at him once more. “Beleriad is not your son,” she said.

  Geldryn paused with his mouth open. />
  Siravel shook her head slowly. “Neither is he my son. I stole his egg from a king. The same king who sired the green dragon that maimed Gorliad. I destroyed that kingdom and took Beleriad. I wanted you to love me, and I feared I could never give you a crowned prince like you wanted.”

  “It was only you that I wanted,” Geldryn whispered.

  Siravel moaned and turned as some sort of pain contorted her body. She coughed and then looked up at Geldryn again. “We have wronged him terribly. Undo the evil we have set upon him, and let our love live in and through Gorliad.”

  “I swear,” Geldryn vowed. “Once I have reclaimed him, I will soar to the north, so that our spirits may dwell together among the stars.”

  Siravel smiled. She formed the connection with Geldryn. In that instant he felt nothing but her undying love wrapping around him and coursing through him like the fires in his chest. The two shared the brief moment, happy again that they had finally reconnected. They were free of all cares. No queen wedged between them, no failures tainted their bond, and no sorrow entered into their minds. There was only the pleasure of their love, and the strength of their bond rekindled. Each of them finally understood that neither had withdrawn from the other. It had been only their own insecurities and perceptions that had caused the rift between them. All of that was gone now. Even after the hard years, the gap was bridged and their hearts would never again separate.

  The connection broke. A weak, final tendril of smoke snaked out from Siravel’s snout and the sparkle in her gold-speckled green eyes faded away.

  Geldryn arched his neck up violently and roared terribly with fire and smoke pouring out of him like a volcano, washing over the stone ceiling and melting the gold inlays that held the precious jewels in their mounts to decorate the queen’s chamber. The scorched gems fell to the floor, framing the scene as if a fiery cloud of smoke was raining jewels to mourn the queen’s death.

  The rock in the ceiling began to glow red with heat, until bits of the ceiling morphed into steaming, molten rock and oozed down to the floor below. That was when Geldryn cast a last glance to his beloved queen. He exited the chamber and saw the sentries had come near by then.