by Joseph Lallo
Athos raised his right arm and watched the orix spin in its elliptical orbit until it expertly returned to his hand.
“Accuracy drops the farther out you cast it,” Athos explained. “The farthest I’ve been able to cast with any amount of accuracy is about one hundred and fifty feet.”
“Accuracy notwithstanding, what’s the farthest you have ever thrown it?” Breslin inquired, curious. Athos’ skill had impressed him greatly and he was considering whether or not he should approach the Council and suggest the guards take up the ancient weapon once more.
“Depending upon the design, and how it’s thrown, I’ve been able to hurl an orix close to three hundred feet.”
Breslin nodded his head. He was convinced. He was definitely going to reintroduce the archaic throwing weapon at the next Council meeting.
“I still prefer my crossbow,” Venk called out to them. “Better range.”
“You mean easier to use?” his brother teased him.
“Bite me.”
“At least I won’t run out of ammunition.”
Venk patted a pouch on his belt. “I have enough bolts, never you fear.”
“Uncle!”
Athos glanced over at his nephew.
“Think fast!”
Lukas pulled up a small clump of grass, grasped it by the tips of the long blades, and swung it around his head. Gaining speed, he finally released the grass after the fourth swing. Lukas waited. His uncle had yet to miss a target, and provided everyone was out of harm’s way, Athos would be unable to resist a chance to show his skill.
Athos was waiting. As soon as the clump had hit the apex of its upward climb, he flung the orix at the falling grass. The clump was instantly transformed into a cloud of falling blades. The orix, encountering barely any resistance from the grass, kept traveling ahead and disappeared around the next grassy knoll.
“I’ll get it, uncle.”
Lukas rose to his feet and started to climb the hill when Athos told him to stop.
“It’ll come back. This valley is perfect for throwing orixes; there are no trees. This hill isn’t big enough to hide any obstructions, so it couldn’t have hit anything. Just wait a moment. It’ll be back.”
Ten seconds passed. No orix. Everyone turned to look at Athos.
“It’ll be back, I assure you.”
“It wasn’t thrown that hard,” Venk pointed out. “It should have returned by now. You must have hit something.”
“I’ll look,” Lukas told them again. The boy climbed thirty feet to the top of the grassy knoll and looked down at the other side of the hill.
“Father! Uncle! You might want to see this!”
Hurrying up the hill as fast as he could run, Venk arrived at his son’s side, his crossbow cocked and loaded. He looked down and gaped at what he saw. Athos and Breslin arrived moments later, holding their axes. Wheezing and gasping for air, Tristofer arrived a few moments later.
“You really do need to get out more,” Breslin told the scholar.
Sitting at the base of the hill they were all standing on, no more than fifty feet away, were two dragons. Two massive reptilian heads jerked in their direction as the dwarves appeared. Both dragons tracked the dwarves as they cautiously descended the hill. While a truce was in effect between wyverian and dwarf, neither truly trusted the other.
The closest dragon was a deep blood red color, with a tinge of purple near the tips of its wings and tail. The red dragon sported two large slightly curved horns that were jutting straight out of its skull and at the moment, were trained on the group of dwarves. A row of spikes sprouted from the base of the dragon’s skull and extended down the neck. Halfway down its back the spikes became plates which continued to run the length of its spine, giving it an appearance of being heavily armored. Giant leathery wings remained extended, ready to propel the dragon to safety if it thought the situation called for it.
The second dragon, ivory white in appearance, also watched the dwarves. It was larger and older than the first and clearly believed it had nothing to fear from the dwarves as its wings were folded and remained that way. As the second dragon shifted the bulk of its weight onto its rear legs, its scales shimmered and the white coloring became a rich copper. Enjoying the show it knew it was putting on, the now copper dragon shifted position again and regained its white coloring.
“Impressive,” Breslin commented, as he approached the pair of dragons. “I am Breslin of the Kla Guur, son of Maelnar.”
The red dragon bowed its head. “Greetings, Breslin of the Kla Guur. I am Rhamalli. This is Samara.”
The white dragon nodded. It suddenly cocked its head, opened its jaws, and spit something small and green onto the ground before them.
“I give up. This is the toughest kyte I have ever tried to eat. I fear I may have cracked a fang.”
It was Athos’ orix, dripping with dragon drool.
“You tried to eat my orix?”
Twin pale eyes studied the dwarf. “What is an orix?”
“It’s an ancient throwing weapon.”
“Your ancient throwing weapon was going to hit me.”
“So you ate it instead?”
Samara’s nose lifted. “I thought it was a kyte.”
“A kyte is a small flying creature that loves to roost in trees,” Tristofer helpfully informed Lukas.
“Everyone knows that,” Lukas replied in an exasperated tone. “It’s a feathered avian that comes in a variety of colors and can reside just about anywhere. Don’t treat me like a child.”
Tristofer closed his mouth and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Ignoring his nephew’s outburst, Athos shook his head and looked up at the white dragon. “There are no kytes around here. If you want kytes, find some trees. You didn’t break it, did you?”
Samara grunted with annoyance. “No. I should have known no kyte, or any other creature, would willingly fly into my open jaws. I tried to chew it. Got it lodged in my fangs. It came loose just now.”
Athos looked down at his prized orix, covered in saliva, and grimaced. He gingerly retrieved it and tried to clean it on the grass, which only succeeded in getting both drool and grass stuck to his weapon.
Tristofer tossed over a small piece of cloth. “And people say I cram useless objects into my pockets. Hmph. You never know when you need to polish a weapon.”
Athos rolled his eyes and dried off his orix. The pressure of the dragon’s enormous jaws must have caused the extendable arms to collapse. He flicked open the arms and locked them back into place. He glanced up at Samara, who had been watching with rapt fascination.
“See? No kytes here, just my orix. I use it as a means of self defense.”
“Defense?” Samara’s long neck snaked about as he inspected the local environment. “Against whom? Or what?”
“It was for practice.”
“Ah. Why wouldn’t it break?”
“It’s made from an alloy I made myself. Lighter than wood but much stronger than iron.”
“I’ll bet I could crunch it,” Samara declared, as if challenging himself to do just that at a future date. He watched the dwarf fold the weapon back into its inert form and slide it into the sheath on his chest. “I could...”
Rhamalli thumped his tail irritably onto the ground. “Another time, perhaps.” He turned his attention back to the dwarves. “Where are you off to?”
“Why do you want to know?” Breslin inquired.
“Five dwarves marching under the open sky? You are up to something. Rinbok Intherer wants to know what.”
“You can tell the Dragon Lord that it is our business,” Breslin replied calmly. “Tell him that we heading south and that’s all he needs to know.”
“How far south?” the red dragon asked.
“A fair distance.”
Engrossed in the conversation between Breslin and the dragon, Venk didn’t notice Lukas edging closer and closer to the larg
e ivory dragon. For a creature so large, it could certainly move fast when it wanted to. Samara’s huge horned skull was suddenly inches from Lukas’ outstretched hand.
“Is there something I can help you with, young dwarf?”
Lukas leapt backward in alarm, tripping over his own feet and plopping down on his rear. Venk was at his side in a flash.
“Keep your distance, dragon.”
“He approached me, dwarf.”
“What’s going on?” Breslin demanded, stepping between the dragon and the boy.
“That dragon just scared Lukas,” Venk accused.
“He did not!” Lukas insisted, leaping to Samara’s defense.
“I did not,” Samara said, at the same time.
“What happened then? What were you...” Venk trailed off as he noticed several scales that were in the process of peeling off of Samara’s body. “Really? Was one dragon scale not enough for you? Why do you need another?”
“Another what?” Samara asked. His own eyes traveled down the front of his chest until it fell on his front left foreleg. Several scales left over from his last sloughing had yet to fall off. “The boy wants a scale?”
Lukas emphatically nodded his head yes while his father rubbed his temples.
Samara scratched his left leg with his right and kept at it until the remaining scales finally fell to the ground. All together, seven scales, each the size of a large stone, fell to the ground.
Lukas beamed his appreciation up at the ivory dragon and knelt down onto the soft grass to select his prize. He then approached his father and spun him around until he had access to the pack of belongings his father carried for the two of them. Lukas slipped the scale into one of the pockets. Venk pointed at another of the iridescent scales and told Lukas to pick it up as well.
“Think I can return home without one for Madisonia as well?”
After both scales were secured in the pack, the dwarves returned their attention to the dragons.
“As I was saying,” Breslin started again, “what we do is our business. The Dragon Lord does not need to poke his nose into that which doesn’t concern him.”
Rhamalli shook his head. “The reason I ask, dwarf, is the time of the Hunt is now. We could exchange favors.”
Breslin risked a glance with the brothers. “A hunt? Favors? Explain.”
“Every two years a group of dragons are chosen to hunt the serpent,” Rhamalli explained. “It and its offspring live in the waters humans call the Sea of Koralis.”
“I know absolutely nothing of this,” Breslin confessed. “I didn’t know dragons participated in any type of hunt.”
“Well, we do. Samara and I were two of the chosen. The others are on their way.”
“What does that have to do with us?” Athos asked.
“If you are heading in that direction, we can take you along.”
Lukas’ face lit up again.
“Really? Riding on the back of a dragon?”
Both dragons growled and shook their heads.
“We could carry you,” Rhamalli clarified, “but not on our backs. No one rides a dragon.”
“Sir Steve rode Pryllan,” Venk pointed out.
Rhamalli approximated a shrug. “With permission only. Be that as it may, no one rides on our backs. We can carry you, but only if we know if your destination lies east.”
“Lake Alpin supposedly lies mostly south, I’m afraid,” Tristofer helpfully supplied.
Breslin, Venk, and Athos groaned aloud. Athos cuffed the scholar on the back of his head.
“Do you not know the definition of discreet?”
“Lake Alpin?” Rhamalli shook his head. “I know not where that is.”
“Nor do I,” Samara admitted.
“What do you expect to find there?” Rhamalli wanted to know.
Athos went tight-lipped. “It is our own business, dragon.”
Rhamalli was silent as he studied the dwarves for several moments.
Tristofer, mistaking the dragons’ silence as a willingness to let the matter drop, smiled with relief. “See? You have nothing to worry about. They don’t know where the lake is. Our secret is safe.”
“So they don’t know where it is. Who’s to say they couldn’t find out?”
“Why would we find out?” Samara asked, confused. “The affairs of the dwarves interests us not.”
Rhamalli closed his eyes and went still.
“What’s he doing?” Breslin asked as he suspiciously eyed the motionless dragon.
Samara sighed. “He’s poking his nose into the affairs of the dwarves. I believe he’s asking where Lake Alpin can be found.
“Blast it! We don’t want anyone to know where we’re going!” Breslin cried out in frustration. “Why don’t we just send out a broadcast of what we’re doing instead?”
Rhamalli’s eyes snapped open and he visibly straightened.
“Lake Alpin is a small freshwater lake located southeast of the point where a river the humans call Zylan splits in twain.”
“So now you know where it is?” Breslin demanded. “Why did you not say so before?”
“I just asked. I was given an answer. Still your tongue, dwarf, and I’ll explain.”
Breslin’s eyebrows shot up. Had he just been told off by a dragon?
“I consulted with Rinbok Intherer. He knew where to find your lake.”
“How far away is it?”
“Five hours, as the dragon flies,” Rhamalli answered. “Three months as the dwarf walks.”
“Three months??”
The huge ivory dragon chuckled loudly. Breslin turned to Samara and glowered up at the mammoth creature.
“He’s mocking me, isn’t he?”
“Of course.”
“How long will it truthfully take us to get there?”
Rhamalli shook his head. “Unknown. I know not how fast you travel.”
“How far is the lake from Donlari?” Lukas asked.
Rhamalli’s gaze shifted to the boy’s.
“That’s the first intelligent question I’ve heard, young dwarf. The answer is less than a day.”
“So what was going to take nearly four days will now take less than one. I think that’s a good trade, father.”
Venk snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Thanks, son. What favor do you require for transporting us to Donlari?”
“Rinbok Intherer has a large amethyst that he would like split into four gems of equal weight. Can you do this?”
Breslin suddenly smiled. “My father can and I’m sure he’d love to do that for the Dragon Lord.”
Rhamalli nodded. “Excellent. The others have been summoned. They will be here in ten minutes. Once we arrive at the human village then we will have fulfilled our obligation. Do we have an accord?”
Breslin drew Mythryd from his back and clanged it gently on the talons of Rhamalli’s open claw.
“We have an accord.”
****
Lukas had never been so excited in his young life. He and his father were each being gently, but firmly, gripped in a massive dragon claw. Every downward beat of Samara’s wings propelled them higher into the sky, ever closer to the white puffy clouds Lukas had always admired whenever he had the chance to see them. That was hardly ever, as his father had adopted every other dwarf’s trademark dislike of being Topside.
He was flying through the air! Well, Samara was flying through the air, but nevertheless, he wanted to see and experience everything! No one was going to believe he had ever flown with a dragon. Not only that, it was with a whole group of them!
Lukas looked to his left and saw Rhamalli flying a little lower than they were. Even though he couldn’t see them, Lukas knew the red dragon held his uncle and the scholar. If he watched long enough, he could see several papers fly out from beneath the dragon and flutter away on the wind, destined to fall forgotten to some desolate section of the forest floor far below. As alw
ays, whenever that happened, Lukas could imagine hearing a squawk of outrage from Tristofer, as he no doubt pleaded with the dragon to decrease their speed and altitude.
To his right he could see the large black dragon holding Breslin. He had forgotten the name of that dragon as it had too many syllables to remember, let alone pronounce. Ahead of them, barely visible as specks in the sky, flew seven other dragons of various colors. Two were green. One was yellow. Another two were red. There was a white dragon with dark stripes, and way out ahead, leading the way, was a brilliant cobalt blue dragon. Lukas had overheard Rhamalli mention two of the dragons were female, but as to which ones they were, he had no way of telling, nor was he going to ask. That sort of question typically ended with the adults laughing at him.
Lukas fidgeted in the claw as he jostled about to find the prime vantage point for watching the passing countryside far below. Not having much luck leaning out over the dragon’s claw, as he was too short, Lukas ducked down to peer through the gaps between the talons. There, far below them, were the tree tops of Anakash forest. His father had said that it was going to take three days just to reach Zylan River. At this rate, if the dragons would just fly them straight there, they could be there in only a matter of a few more hours. As it was, the dragons were flying predominantly east, not south. It was a blessing that they were altering course long enough to drop them off in Donlari.
Just then a swirl of mist obscured his vision. Tiny droplets of water coalesced on his face, chilling him instantly and taking his breath away. What had happened? Lukas ran a hand over his face and inhaled, testing the air. The unmistakable scent of water was everywhere. The clouds! The dragons were flying through the clouds!
“This is amazing!” Lukas shouted to his father.
When no response was forthcoming, Lukas glanced over at the Samara’s other claw, which held his father. Venk had both eyes screwed shut and was gripping the dragon’s talons so tightly his knuckles were turning as pale as the scales.
“Father! Open your eyes! We are flying through the clouds! You don’t want to miss it!”
His father didn’t respond. Lukas tried again, but realized that no matter how loud he shouted, his words were lost to the rushing wind. The swirling mists cleared and Lukas gasped with surprise. Gone was the ground. The trees could no longer be seen. There were no visible mountains and no discernible landmarks anywhere. For all he knew they were no longer flying east but had instead doubled back and were headed home. There was simply no way to tell. Lukas’ jaw started to ache as he was smiling so much. They were flying so high that the clouds he had seen from the ground were now those that he could see far below.