Dragons' Onyx

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Why isn’t it possible?” asked Niki. “If we both go, we will still be together. I do not see the reason for being left behind.”

  “He is not planning on coming back, Niki,” explained Fredrik. “Ever.”

  “I don’t care if we ever see Southland again,” puzzled Niki. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t mean Southland,” Fredrik said sadly. “I mean that we will never see him again. Nobody will.”

  “You mean he is going to die?” cried Niki. “How can he? I thought he was immortal?”

  “I do not understand what is happening,” conceded Fredrik, “but I understand his emotion. Whatever Master Khatama is up to, it is the end of his life as we know it.”

  “No,” screamed Niki as she tried to break free from Fredrik and run into the alley. “I will find him and talk him out of it.”

  “No, Niki,” soothed Fredrik. “He will not allow us to find him. Trust me. This was his goodbye.”

  “But why?” sobbed Niki.

  “Who can say?” shrugged Fredrik. “Life is full of mysteries. I cannot even explain why the statue changed during the ceremony.”

  “It did move then?” questioned Niki. “I thought that I was imagining it.”

  “Look at it,” pointed Fredrik. “When we came in, the child was nursing on the other side. I don’t even know why Master Khatama insisted on having the ceremony at the temple of the goddess of fertility.”

  “Fertility?” echoed Niki. “How do you know that is what Leda stands for?”

  “Weren’t you listing to the priest?” asked Fredrik.

  “Most of the time,” Niki frowned as she remembered getting distracted by the statue. “Do you suppose it means anything?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Fredrik. “All I know is that Master Khatama cared a great deal for you. He truly treated you as his daughter today. Let’s always remember him as he was here in this room.”

  “I will,” smiled Niki as she hugged Fredrik. “What do we do with the wagon?”

  “We head to Tagaret,” answered Fredrik. “I still own a mansion there.”

  Chapter 27

  Dragons’ Onyx

  King Arik walked out the door of Jorgel’s hut and stared at the dragon curled up in the clearing. Wyka’s right eye opened briefly and then closed again.

  “Your nap is over,” smiled the king. “Light the morning fire so I can have a hot meal before we leave.”

  “Before we leave?” echoed the dragon. “Where are we going?”

  “To kill Gorga,” answered King Arik as Jorgel entered the clearing with a bucket of fresh water.

  “So soon?” asked the dragon after she had breathed flames into the fire pit.

  “Today is the day,” nodded the king as he washed his hands in the bucket. “I will not put it off any longer. There is too much danger heading towards Tagaret for me to delay.”

  “Very well,” sighed Wyka. “I was hoping to get to know you a little bit before you died.”

  “Now what kind of way is that to speak to the king?” scowled Jorgel. “I thought you were going to protect him while he battled that nasty cousin of yours?”

  “My task is not to protect Dragon Heart,” retorted Wyka. “I will deliver him to Gorga’s lair and nothing more. I could not fit in the small tunnel that he will have to use in any event.”

  “How does Gorga get into his lair?” asked King Arik. “Surely, he could not fit in this small tunnel either.”

  “The dragon lairs of Gorga are centered around an ancient volcano,” replied the dragon. “The entry is quite large, but totally impassable for a human. There are small vent tunnels that were created ages ago. The dragons like lairs with those connecting tunnels because they provide good airflow. Of course, they also facilitate entry for lesser forms of life.”

  “Like humans?” frowned Jorgel. “Is that what you meant by lesser forms of life?”

  “Like humans,” grinned Wyka. “If you would care to see one, I am sure that I could arrange it.”

  “I am not keen on tunnels,” Jorgel replied quickly as he turned his back and began preparing the morning meal.

  “I didn’t think so,” needled Wyka.

  “So you know which of these air vents leads to Gorga’s lair?” inquired King Arik.

  “Of course,” replied Wyka. “I will even take you there. That is the extent of my help.”

  “I understand,” nodded the king. “I am thankful for what you have done to help me, Wyka. I know this is difficult for you. I will not ask for more from you.”

  “You should,” interrupted Jorgel. “That nasty dragon will kill you for sure. The smaller ones are nasty enough, but that big one is a killer. You should forget this task and return home while you can.”

  “I cannot do that,” King Arik smiled thinly. “Whether it be death or victory, this is what I am tasked to do. I have no choice.”

  “Everybody has a choice,” retorted the old man. “You are just stubborn and refuse to admit it.”

  “Will he see me approaching?” the king asked Wyka while ignoring Jorgel’s taunts.

  “His right eye still functions properly,” replied the dragon. “I am sure that he will have it trained on that small tunnel. There is no other way for you to approach.”

  King Arik knew that Wyka was not being entirely truthful with him. Wyka could take him into the dormant volcano if she wanted to. Then he would be able to attack Gorga from behind, but he decided not to push the issue. He wasn’t sure why Wyka did not want to help him, but he figured it must have something to do with the Dragon Prophecy. He walked over to the fire pit and helped himself to some of the venison stew that Jorgel had prepared.

  “I normally don’t care much for chatty people,” Jorgel said, breaking the silence of the morning, “but I don’t care much for your silent brooding either. Are you finally beginning to see the wisdom of my advice?”

  “Sorry,” King Arik replied distractedly. “I am just thinking about Gorga and how I can kill him.”

  “I never thought humans put much mental effort into planning,” chuckled Wyka. “Don’t you just jump in front of the dragon and threaten them with your sword?”

  “That’s probably the only way you could ever hope to catch a human,” Jorgel countered. “Don’t underestimate this lad. He is a thinker. I saw that the first I met him. He will find a way to do it.”

  King Arik shook his head and walked out of the clearing to be alone. He needed time to think, and not only about killing Gorga. He found a log to sit on and began eating his stew. Visions of the past flew through his head as he remembered the journeys and the people that had brought him to where he was today. Pictures of friends and enemies whirled in his mind. Many were scattered all over the world. Many others were long dead.

  He remembered the days that he and Tedi had first met Garth Shado and Master Khatama. He chuckled inwardly as he remembered how foolish he and Tedi had been back then. They had thought that they were invincible at first. It didn’t take much to show them how wrong they were. For some reason, his mind focused on the first time that he had met Tanya. She was dressed like a boy that day. He chuckled inwardly as he remembered Tanya rebuking him for his attitude. He didn’t know at that time how talented she really was.

  King Arik shook his head and wondered why his mind was wandering when he should be concentrating on the task of defeating Gorga. Suddenly, he realized that this was the first time that he was alone, truly alone. There was nobody to save him this time. He would either kill Gorga by himself, or he would die and destroy the hopes of all mankind.

  Arik placed his bowl on the log and leaped to his feet. He walked around briskly to rid himself of his despairing thoughts. He wandered into a small clearing and gazed skyward. A dark frown fell over his face as he looked up. High above him the Darkness reigned, Sarac’s Darkness. As he stared at the Darkness, he felt a rage boiling up inside him. Visions of his friends faded, only to be replaced by images of starvin
g people, poor destitute people being ravaged by Dark Riders and Black Devils.

  Suddenly, an image of the vent tunnel that he had gone down the last time he was on Grakus came into view. Prince Darok and the elves had been with him that time. This time he was alone.

  He walked back to the log and finished his stew. He thought about the last time he had seen his friends, back near Mount Kalas when Gorga had taken him away from those who could protect him. Suddenly, he bolted to his feet and began running. He ran into the clearing before Jorgel’s hut and threw the empty bowl to the old man as he raced into the cabin. He emerged from the cabin with all of his weapons.

  “Are we in a hurry now?” chuckled Wyka. “Perhaps you would like a ride back to Tagaret?”

  “Not likely,” King Arik declared as he fastened his weapons to his body. “We have a meeting with a friend of yours. Prepare to fly.”

  Wyka looked at the king with uncharacteristic surprise as Arik ran across the clearing and leaped onto the dragon’s tail. The king scampered up the dragon’s back and grabbed onto a scale.

  “Very well,” Wyka said as she raised herself off of the ground.

  “Are you sure about this, lad?” asked Jorgel with concern.

  “As sure as I have ever been about anything,” nodded King Arik. “Many people sit around in despair hoping that things could get better. I have the opportunity to do something about it. That is exactly what I plan to do.”

  “Remind me, old man,” chuckled Wyka as she prepared to take off. “The next time I visit, I want some of whatever you put in that stew.”

  “It will cost you dearly,” grinned Jorgel.

  “Hmmph,” scowled Wyka. “If the stew is good, I will let you live.”

  Wyka’s powerful legs pushed off the ground, and the dragon leaped into the sky. King Arik hung on tightly as the dragon rose high into the air. The forest gave way to the gray towers of the mountains as Wyka banked and climbed. Within minutes they were soaring over the peaks of the mountains. King Arik looked down at the mountain peaks. He spied a large volcano in the distance and knew it was their destination.

  Wyka stopped moving her wings and glided silently. She reached the volcano and began gliding in a circle around it as she lost altitude. Suddenly, her wings beat furiously as she turned in toward the side of the mountain. King Arik saw a tiny ledge on the side of the mountain and a cave entrance on it.

  “Hang on tightly,” warned the dragon. “This is not an easy perch for me to grasp.”

  King Arik subconsciously nodded although he knew that Wyka could not see his response. He grabbed the scale tightly as the dragon’s body came flush up against the mountain.

  “Now,” ordered Wyka. “Jump off quickly.”

  King Arik hesitated only a second before blindly leaping towards the mountain. With his hands before him, King Arik impacted with the mountain as Wyka fell away. He was vaguely aware of the dragon’s beating wings as his hands sought some sort of purchase. He grabbed onto a protruding rock as his body tilted backwards. His hand began slipping, and Arik closed his eyes.

  Suddenly, he felt something slam into his back. He quickly seized the rock with both hands and looked behind him. Wyka was hovering behind him, her wings beating furiously while her tail was pushing Arik into the mountain.

  “Thank you,” breathed Arik as he nodded thankfully. “I have it now.”

  Wyka immediately fell away and down. She reappeared moments later.

  “You are on your own now, Dragon Heart,” Wyka purred. “May you be victorious in your battle.”

  “I shall do my best,” smiled the king. “Thank you for all of your help.”

  Wyka soared away, and Arik took stock of his situation. He gazed at the narrow ledge and saw that it went nowhere in either direction. The rock walls above and below him were sheer vertical faces. He doubted that he would have been able to access the ledge without Wyka’s help. He felt warm air flowing out of the cave. The air carried a stench of decay with it. He slid to the opening and stepped into the cave.

  King Arik sighed with relief as he opened his pack and withdrew a torch. He was about to light it when he stopped and shook his head. He placed the torch back into his pack. The king walked into the cave until the light began to turn to darkness. He tried peering further into the tunnel, but he could see nothing. Arik moved to one side of the tunnel and placed his hand against the rock wall. He closed his eyes to let them become accustomed to the dark as he began inching his way deeper into the mountain.

  After a few minutes, King Arik opened his eyes. There was no difference. His world was totally dark. He thought momentarily of lighting the torch, but he knew that would alert Gorga of his coming. Opting for surprise over vision, King Arik crept forward. He kept his hands free, holding neither torch nor weapon.

  The tunnel continued downward in a gently slope. King Arik kept his senses alert as he listened for sounds of Gorga. He heard nothing, but the smell of decay grew steadily stronger. All of a sudden, King Arik felt nothing but air under his leading foot. He tried to grab at the wall that his hand had been touching to guide him, but his body was already leaning too far forward. He felt himself falling and instinctively raised his hands to protect his head. A couple of seconds later, he hit the ground hard. His body rolled into a ball on impact. He berated himself for not lighting the torch as he rolled along the tunnel.

  It was all over after a few seconds. King Arik sat up and felt his bruises. His tunic was torn on one side and his body had numerous scrapes, but Arik nodded thankfully that nothing was broken. He stood with his arms stretched out in front of him and walked back towards the area where he fell. When he reached the area of his fall, his hands felt the rock in front of him as it rose higher than his hands could reach. He frowned with the knowledge that he could not leave the mountain the same way he had come, even though he had not quite figured out how he would get off the ledge when he did exit.

  King Arik sighed and turned around. Once again, he placed one hand against the wall and slowly inched forward, only now he tested the floor with his foot before he committed to shifting his weight forward.

  Several dozen paces later, the tunnel turned abruptly. King Arik stopped and blinked his eyes. Far off in the distance was the glimmer of a pale sliver of light. He smiled inwardly as he slowly moved towards it. As he got closer to the pale light, he was able to see the confines of the tunnel better. Soon he was able to walk normally without his hand pressed against the wall.

  As he approached the end of the visible tunnel, he saw that another bend was just ahead. The light that was streaming in was coming from something around the corner. King Arik slowed as he approached the bend. When he reached the corner, he stopped completely and silently dropped to the floor. He could hear the dragon breathing around the corner. A shiver of fear raced up his spine, and he remained still until he was calm.

  King Arik spread himself out on the floor of the tunnel and inched forward. He stopped when he saw the shadow on the far wall of the tunnel. The outline showed Gorga lying in wait, his head facing the small tunnel. King Arik bit his lip and tried to figure out how he could attack the dragon without getting burned first. Suddenly, the king heard a familiar voice.

  “Such a fine day and you hide in your lair,” taunted Wyka.

  “What do you want?” snarled Gorga. “Aren’t you a little far from your self-imposed exile?”

  “I heard that the Wrong One had risen,” quipped Wyka. “I couldn’t resist coming and seeing for myself. Is there something the matter with your left eye? Or are you just winking at me?”

  “I have no time for your foolish games, Wyka,” snarled Gorga. “You know very well what is wrong with my eye. Did you think that I didn’t spot you near Mount Kalas?”

  “Oh,” grinned Wyka, “is that why you left in such a hurry? And I thought it was because of something important.”

  King Arik saw the shadow move. It appeared that Gorga was turning to look at Wyka. He slid silently forward an
d peered around the corner. His body tingled as he saw the dragon’s lair. Gorga was poised to strike out at the tunnel, but now his head was turned toward the opposite side of the lair. Arik grabbed his bow and selected an arrow from his quiver. He stood up and prepared to turn the corner.

  “It is something important that I do,” scowled Gorga. “Of course, I doubt that you will approve as it has nothing to do with all of the dragons loving one another, but your disapproval only makes my task more enjoyable.”

  “What has happened to you, Gorga?” Wyka asked with a sigh. “We used to be friends at one time.”

  King Arik stepped around the corner and saw the back of Gorga’s head. He slowly started advancing towards it.

  “We also used to be children at one time,” snapped Gorga. “When you grew up, you lost track of what being a dragon means. It does not mean caring for everyone. It means being hated by everyone. It means being despicable, but most of all, it means being feared. You could never understand that.”

  “No, I couldn’t,” Wyka replied sadly. “I couldn’t understand it then, and I can’t understand it now. Give me the Dragons’ Onyx and end this foolishness. I have no desire to see you die.”

  “Die?” Gorga sneered. “I have no intention of dying. It is that little brat who will die. I am sure that you are tied to him somehow. You always were a sucker for the good little humans. Where are you hiding him?”

  “Who?” asked Wyka. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I don’t believe you for a minute,” snarled Gorga. “As a matter of fact, I bet I know where he is.”

  Gorga’s head snapped around instantly, his mouth belching flame. He saw King Arik standing in the tunnel and directed the flames towards him. King Arik immediately let fly his arrow. The arrow streaked into Gorga’s good eye as flames washed over the king. Arik’s tunic burst into flames and the heat singed the hairs on his arms. As Gorga screamed and thrashed away from the tunnel entrance, King Arik dropped his bow and charged forward. He dove into the lair just as Gorga blindly spewed another burst of fire into the tunnel.