Rise of the Pendragon (Islands in the Mist Book 3)

by J. M. Hofer

  “I am most flattered. I would be honored.” Taliesin bowed his head respectfully and took up his harp.

  “Oh, no no—you must eat first. I insist.” Emrys set his servants on Taliesin and Bran like a swarm of bees. They set platters of roast lamb in front of them along with baskets of bread to sop up the meat juices and kept their horns filled with ale. After they had eaten their fill, Taliesin entertained in the hall until the wee hours. As always, he enraptured his audience, including Bran, who never tired of listening to him. When everyone began to retire, Bran leaned over and whispered, “We’re in luck.” As soon as most of the hall slept, they left, moving out into the courtyard as quietly as they could manage.

  “Wait,” a voice to their left said.

  They turned to see Uthyr standing not ten feet from them. “Come with me.” His firm tone made it clear they did not have a choice in the matter. They followed him to a chamber off the hall, where a servant poured them all a drink. “I have heard tales, Taliesin, from many of the people who live here in the villages of Gwyneth, that the story you tell is true—a dragon still sleeps within this mountain. Many of my men claim to have seen it.”

  “That’s because it is true,” Taliesin confirmed.

  Uthyr nodded, his eyes boring into Taliesin. “Then I wish to see it. No, I must see it—can you take me to it?”

  “If you are certain you wish to lay your eyes upon such a thing, then I will show it to you.”

  Bran’s mind was racing. Is this part of Taliesin’s plan? He had certainly not expected this turn of events.

  “I must warn you, though, as I warned Emrys,” Taliesin cautioned, “we risk its wrath if we disturb it, for she sleeps peacefully now that she rules the mountain, and this fortress, therefore, stands peacefully atop it. Do you understand my meaning?”

  “Yes,” Uthyr conceded, “there were once two, a red and a white, who battled one another by night within this mountain, is that right?”

  “Yes.” Taliesin pulled out two large scales from his crane bag, one as red as blood, the other pale and white, like moonlight, and presented them to Uthyr.

  Uthyr wrinkled his brow, turning them over in his hands. “What are they?”

  “Dragon scales.”

  “Dragon scales?” Uthyr whispered in awe. He took the white scale in his hands and held it up to the firelight of a nearby candle to inspect it more closely. “This brings me to my second concern. If the red indeed sleeps beneath us, then I am somewhat content with it, for I know where it lies. The white, however, worries me, for you said it serves our enemies. Do you know where it has fled?”

  Taliesin shook his head. “I do not.”

  Uthyr looked disappointed. “Can you help me find it?”

  “I shall do anything you ask of me.”

  Uthyr nodded, satisfied. “I wish to see the red dragon who sleeps beneath this castle and to know where the white has gone.”

  “When would it please you to enter the mountain?” Taliesin asked.

  “Now.” Uthyr stood up and stared back and forth between them.

  Bran shot Taliesin a look that said, “What do we do now?”

  “Night has fallen,” Taliesin remarked coolly. “The dragon will be awake. If you prefer, we can venture in by day, when it will be sleeping.”

  “And what kind of adventure would that be? Watching a sleeping dragon?” Uthyr asked, a mischievous glint in his eye as he sheathed his sword. “I am determined to see it in its majesty.”

  Bran could not help but smile. He felt he would like Uthyr just as much as Emrys. Perhaps more.

  ***

  Taliesin led the way down a steep ledge with a precarious drop-off. Bran was glad for the moonlight, for the small lanterns they carried did not provide much light. Thankfully, the shoulder widened a bit after a switchback, but descending was slow and arduous work. Each step required focus. Mid-way down the mountain, Taliesin stopped and held his lantern aloft. “This is it,” he whispered. He handed his lantern to Bran and slipped inside a frightfully narrow gap. Bran passed the lantern back to him, and then worked to get his bulk through the same way, but it was not to be.

  “I’ll have no more success than you, friend. We must widen it,” Uthyr observed, undeterred.

  Bran extricated himself and then took a large rock from the ground and smashed it down upon the outcropping of rock that prevented his entry, his blows echoing down into the chamber. The three of them looked nervously at one another, listening in between series of blows for whatever sound a disturbed, angry dragon might make. Bit by bit, the mountain yielded to Bran and fell away. He wiped the sweat from his brow, smiled at Uthyr and motioned toward the opening. “After you.”

  Uthyr gave him a nod and passed through. Before following him in, Bran looked up at the stars and whispered a hurried prayer. He dreaded the idea of leaving the sky behind. He steeled his nerves and ducked inside. The air that met him was wet and damp, the scent of it causing a surge of panic in his chest. A barrage of terrifying memories assaulted him from the moons he had spent trapped in such a place. He did his best to quell them as Taliesin led the way down toward the pool below. Just when he thought he could take no more of it, the smell of the air changed from one of rock and soil to one of sulphur, and the air got much warmer. We’re getting closer.

  A half-hour later, they reached the shore of an underground lake. Their three lanterns suddenly became six, reflecting off the surface of the perfectly still water. Bran noticed that Taliesin was now whispering something as they walked along. He listened, but did not understand any of the words.

  They followed the water’s edge until they had no choice but to enter the water to continue. Bran was surprised to find it as warm as bath water. It was then that he saw the water suddenly light up as if lightning had struck it from within. “Hurry!” Taliesin whispered urgently, beckoning them to get to the opposite shore. Once they emerged, he ran behind a large boulder. “Come!” He quickly put out his lantern, and they did the same. They each stood silent and unmoving in the darkness, looking toward where they had seen the light, waiting for it to reappear. Then, it happened again. This time, Bran saw it for what it was—fire so fierce, it burned beneath the water. Never had he seen anything so beautiful.

  “Gods be good!” Uthyr whispered. “It’s true…a bloody dragon!” Bran looked over to see Uthyr’s face struck dumb with awed rapture, his eyes glazed and mouth agape.

  The three men watched the dance of dragonfire as it coursed with deadly grace through water as clear as air, causing steam to swirl and rise off the surface of the lake. Occasionally, a part of the beast would surface while the firelight still traveled within the water; they would glimpse its tail or nostrils as it took in air, and then watch as it disappeared beneath the water again.

  “He’s the most majestic beast I’ve ever seen,” Uthyr whispered in the dark, overcome. “To think he’s been here, beneath my very body as I’ve slept above, his presence unknown to me completely.”

  “She has mastered all of the elements,” Taliesin said in a low reverent voice. “She lives within a lake and swims with the grace of the most agile sea creatures…she’s surrounded by a mountain that belongs to her, for she has claimed it for herself. She can breathe fire that is so hot, water cannot subdue it. And when she wishes, she can spread her wings and rival the sun itself for dominion of the sky.”

  “She,” Uthyr chuckled knowingly. “Of course.”

  Mesmerized, they could not tear their eyes away from her graceful movements until the steam began acting strangely. It ceased to move naturally and began to merge together, drawn toward the center of the lake, until it became a towering shrouded form with a skeletal face. It floated eerily across the surface of the water and looked down upon them. If that were not terrifying enough, the dragon followed it across the lake, and then surfaced to be caressed like a faithful hound by the ephemeral hand of the apparition that towered above them. The beast’s great head was close enough to easily snap them up i
n its jaws and eat them whole.

  This beautiful creature of mine has an enemy, just as those who live in my domain have enemies. As your companion said, an enemy whose whereabouts are unknown is a dangerous enemy indeed.

  Uthyr did not quake like a coward, but neither was he disrespectful. Bran could feel him standing tall beside him, like Taliesin, ready to meet his fate, whatever it might be. The apparition of Arawn came closer, staring into Bran’s eyes.

  Son of Agarah, I command you to follow the enemy of my dragon to its lair and, from there, seek out the gods of the enemies who invade our lands. Learn where they are strong and where they are weak, and return that knowledge to me. Their gods have claimed the souls of many of our people, and I want them back. Tell them I shall trade the souls of their own dead in return.

  Arawn then retreated and regarded Taliesin and Uthyr.

  Son of Cerridwen and Son of Ivoire, you do not wear my mark. I demand nothing of you. However, you both possess something that will aid my servant in his task, should you choose to be of service to him.

  The dragon reached her tongue forth at that moment, and with the deftness of a butterfly’s wing, lifted the Brisingamen out from beneath Taliesin’s tunic and then released it, gracefully retracting her tongue.

  Bran kneeled down. “I shall do as you command, Lord.”

  Taliesin and Uthyr both kneeled down as well. Only a fool would not.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The White Dragon

  “If ever fate proclaims me king of these lands, a red dragon shall fly upon my banner,” Uthyr proclaimed as they exited the mountain.

  “A noble sigil,” Bran said, nodding his approval.

  “I’m coming with you,” Uthyr then said to Bran as they ascended the mountain. “Wherever you’re going, I will follow you and aid you in this quest.”

  Bran already knew Taliesin would accompany him, but he had not thought the only living brother of the High Commander of Brython would be by his side. He was speechless for a moment, but managed to say, “I would be honored. What shall we tell the commander?”

  “The truth, of course,” Uthyr said roughly.

  Uthyr convinced Emrys to bless their quest and rallied several servants to the task of preparing horses and supplies. That night, Taliesin sang ballads about the dragon, captivating every man, woman and child within Emrys’ hall. Then, he, Bran and Uthyr enjoyed what they all knew might be their last hot meal and good night’s sleep for some time.

  ***

  The trio set out just as the sun began to peek over the horizon the next morning.

  Taliesin pointed north. “The white dragon fled in that direction after the battle in the sky.”

  Uthyr gestured forward with his hand. “Lead on, Master Taliesin.”

  Taliesin nodded and led the way down the mountain switchbacks and then took a faint path northward. It climbed into ever more steep and hostile territory, colors and warmth fading with every passing hour. At times, he would notice something and dismount, preferring to walk with his head closer to the ground. After his fourth dismount, he commented, “The battle took place moons ago. Clues will be hard to find.”

  Bran began to worry they might not find anything. After a few more hours of traveling with intermittent spells of closer examination of the land, Taliesin stopped in his tracks. “I think I see something.”

  Uthyr and Bran dismounted and rushed over. Dusk was on their heels, so there was no time to lose. Taliesin pulled out the white scale from his bag and whispered to it, again in that strange language Bran could not understand. He then slowly scanned the field until he spied what he was searching for. He ran off, picked something up, and then held it aloft.

  Another scale.

  “We have him now,” Uthyr said with bloodlust in his voice.

  “Yes, but we’re out of daylight.” Bran looked up at the purple sky with disappointment. “We’ll have to continue tomorrow.”

  They set up a quick camp, ate a modest meal, and then Taliesin played for them. He sang of the battle of the dragons that he had seen, but they had not. Scenes came to life with such vivid detail in Bran’s mind that, by the time Taliesin finished the ballad, he felt as if he had truly been there.

  Uthyr sat by the fire, motionless, staring at the white scale within his hands, his eyes never blinking. “Your voice is of the gods,” he said in a half-whisper, looking at Taliesin from across the campfire. Taliesin thanked him, and then sang some more, until sleep called to them.

  ***

  They rose with the sun and split up to explore the area, searching for more clues that might lead to the dragon’s whereabouts. Between the three of them, they found several more scales, deep gashes in the soil from what they supposed were the dragon’s talons, and felled trees. So they continued on through the day, collecting scales one by one, following the trail left behind by the White Dragon, until the light failed and they could not continue.

  They retired as the fire died down, but Bran had not been asleep more than a few hours when he was shaken awake. He sat up with a start. “What? What’s happened?”

  “Look!” Uthyr cried with the excitement of a young child. Bran looked toward the sound of his voice and noticed something glowing in front of him.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, reaching for it.

  “The scales! They glow, like the moon and stars!”

  Uthyr handed him the scale, and Bran stared at it in wonder.

  “They glow!” he repeated. “Don’t you see? We should be searching for them by night—they’ll be easier to find!”

  Taliesin woke and sat up to see what was happening. Uthyr answered by pointing to the pile of glowing scales they had collected that day. Taliesin grinned at Uthyr’s discovery. “Let’s go,” he said, kicking off his blanket and jumping to his feet.

  The scales were indeed far easier to see by night than by day. One by one, they beckoned the men deeper and deeper into the mountains of the Eryri. After two days, the terrain became so rugged they had no choice but to abandon the horses. The scales led them up the side of a steep rock face that could only be climbed.

  “I found a cave!” Taliesin cried from up above. “And there are scales in it!”

  Bran let out a sigh of dread. Please, not another bloody cave. Will I never be free of the obligation to descend into such horrible places? How many more must I endure? He and Uthyr caught up to Taliesin and peered inside the opening. Scales could undoubtedly be seen, and in greater numbers, glowing silver-white like stars within the womb of the mountain.

  Uthyr grinned. “In we go!”

  Bran gave him a reluctant nod and steeled his will once more against the cold darkness he knew awaited them.

  The scales led them down into the belly of the mountain for miles, leading them on a serpentine path that threatened to have no end. Just when it seemed there were no more scales to be found, they discovered a tunnel.

  Uthyr grimaced. “Gods. He must have dug this.”

  Bran inspected the gashes in the walls of the tunnel. They had to have been dug by talons three times the diameter of his spear. “We must be getting close, don’t you think, Taliesin?”

  But Taliesin did not answer. He was already deep inside the tunnel.

  “Come on.” Uthyr strode ahead, leading the way.

  Bran let him, not because he was fearful, but rather because between him and Taliesin was the safest place for him to be. He did not want to have to tell Emrys his brother had been mauled or eaten by a dragon.

  On and on the trio marched. Within a day, they ran out of candles to light their lanterns. They filled them with dragon scales instead, depending on their eerie pale light to find their way. There was neither sun nor moon to guide them in their assessment of time, only the cycles of their hunger. This, too, was something Bran was unfortunately quite familiar with. After what felt like two days and nights, they ran out of food. Bran knew the only sustenance available to them moving forward would be cave fish, bats and insects,
and he recoiled at the thought of having to eat any of them again. Yet, he endured. He put one foot in front of the other, seeking out the dragon’s scales with his companions, and forbid himself to think of anything but finding their quarry.

  At last, the torturous tunnel ended. They gave out cries of relief until they realized it led into yet another dank cavern, where the stench of death reached out and gagged them. They could not suppress their cries of disgust.

  “We’ve found its lair,” Bran said from beneath the bit of tunic he had pulled up over his mouth and nose. He was all too familiar with the smell of rotting corpses.

  They ventured in with tentative steps, causing rats to scurry in all directions. Bran felt encouraged, knowing that meant there was water nearby, and, possibly, a way out.

  Taliesin knelt down and whispered. One of the rats emerged from the darkness and went to him. Bran and Uthyr glanced at one another and then stared at their companion. After a moment Taliesin stood up and said, “Follow me.”

  Bran and Uthyr traded surprised expressions but said nothing. They followed Taliesin down another tunnel. As they walked, the stench increased, along with the number of shed dragon scales on the ground. Gnawing sounds began to echo down the corridor as if a hound the size of a mountain were chewing on a bone at the end of it.

  The ghastly sounds of teeth scraping against bone did not deter Taliesin. He continued walking toward his destination, his eyes glazed and face without expression, as if he were under a deep enchantment.

  Bran and Uthyr, as if of one mind, silently unsheathed their swords and followed, moving up on either side of their young companion to protect him.

  Taliesin did not stop until the tunnel opened up into a large hole—the sort a warren of rabbits would dig for themselves if they were as big as houses and ate nothing but meat. The stench was so putrid it was impossible to breathe without putting something over their mouths. Far more shocking, however, was the source of the terrible sounds that had been the symphonic accompaniment for their terrified imaginings.