The Dragon's Test (Book 3)

by Sam Ferguson

  He approached the bowl slowly, staring into the empty basin. He placed his left hand on the pedestal and drummed his index finger for a moment. Then he pulled a vial of silvery liquid from a pocket with his right hand, pulled the cork out with his teeth and unceremoniously overturned the bottle, allowing the gurgling liquid to splatter down until the bowl was half filled. As the ripples ceased, the liquid turned dark. Gondok’hr cast his right hand over the bowl and used his thoughts to reach through his scrying tool.

  “Why do you disturb me?” a voice rumbled from the liquid.

  “Master Tu’luh,” Gondok’hr began. “I have taken Kuldiga Academy.”

  The voice growled low and the darkness parted to reveal Tu’luh’s scaly red snout. “That is well. When do you march on the boy’s family?”

  “I want only two days to prepare before we set out. By the third day, the boy’s family will be no more.”

  “He knows you are coming,” Tu’luh said. “He contacted me from your home in Drakei Glazei.”

  Gondok’hr paused and pushed back from the pedestal. “What else does he know?” Gondok’hr asked.

  The dragon hissed and plumes of smoke snaked out from his nostrils. “He knows that I exist, nothing more.” The dragon sneered evilly. “Though I imagine he also found out about your family as well.”

  Gondok’hr stiffened. “That is of no importance to me,” he said.

  “It should be,” Tu’luh replied. “Know that if you fail, your family will remain as they are,” Tu’luh cautioned.

  “You promised to help me bring them back,” Gondok’hr rebutted.

  “I promised to help you if you help me destroy the boy. There is no reward for failure.”

  “I will not fail,” Gondok’hr swore. “Swear to me that you will bring my family back,” Gondok’hr said.

  “Silence!” Tu’luh roared. The entire room shook at the dragon’s voice. The glass in the windows creaked and a couple of panes cracked under the strain. “You do not command me, mortal! I am Tu’luh. I am as the Ancients. I have been ruling over the lands long before your great-grandfather’s grandfather was even born. Your existence, and your family’s future, depends solely upon my will. I have told you before that Gilifan will bring your family back once the boy is dead. Do not test my patience by making me swear an oath to you now.”

  Gondok’hr bowed his head. “Forgive me, my lord. It is only that Gilifan does not favor me. It is him I distrust. That is why I asked for your promise. An oath from you I trust, while a thousand promises from Gilifan I would not trust.”

  The dragon cocked his massive, horned head to the side. “My time is precious. Do not interrupt me again until you have the boy’s head in your hands.”

  The liquid clouded over and the image was gone.

  Gondok’hr let out a sigh and tried to slow his beating heart. He stepped away from the pedestal and sat upon his bed. He reached into his left boot and tugged at a small leather coin purse stuffed in by his ankle. He opened the drawstring and dumped a pair of jacks into his hand. They were followed by a silver ring with an amethyst set in an exquisite mount. He smiled at the toys and ring as he turned them over in his hand. He looked back to the scrying bowl and sighed again.

  “Djekk, are you around?” Gondok’hr asked.

  A small, old kobold appeared cross-legged on top of the desk near the window. “I am here, master,” the creature said.

  Gondok’hr looked up and squinted at the kobold’s wrinkly, green face. A series of scars stretched over the humanoid’s left cheek and a patch covered the left eye. Long, stringy white hair hung loosely over the kobold’s neck and back. Djekk wore his usual brown sleeveless leather tunic and black woolen trousers. His yellow, thick toenails protruded out from his stubby green toes enough that Gondok’hr could see them from the bed. “Where is your brother?” Gondok’hr said.

  Djekk blinked slowly. “He is with Gilifan. He snuck through the portal after the wizard.”

  Gondok’hr nodded. “And B’dargen, where is he?”

  Djekk sneered. “Gilifan took B’dargen through the portal, as you predicted.”

  The warlock closed his fist around the toys and ring in his hand. “The wizard seeks to double-cross me.”

  “What would you have me do?” Djekk asked. The kobold reached behind his back and pulled a pair of short, wickedly curved daggers. “Shall I follow and spill his blood?”

  Gondok’hr raised a brow and thought for a moment. “Not yet,” he said. He glanced back to the scrying bowl. “The dragon still favors Gilifan. If I move against him too early, I will gain nothing.”

  “So, then we strike after the boy is dead,” Djekk offered.

  Gondok’hr nodded silently. “That is a possibility.” The warlock slipped the items back into the leather coin purse and stuffed them into his boot. “I have bought two days here. Go, follow your brother, but stay hidden.”

  “What would you have me do?” Djekk asked.

  “I need Gilifan’s necklace.” Gondok’hr rose to his feet and walked toward the kobold. “But, I also need to know how it works.”

  Djekk raised a thin hand. “My brother was there when Gilifan cast his spell. He can tell you the words Gilifan spoke.”

  “No,” Gondok’hr said with a shake of his head. “There is more to it than that. I need to know where his power comes from. Perhaps there is a book he has that explains it, or perhaps there is another artifact that gives him the power.”

  “I do not think so,” Djekk objected.

  “That is not enough for me,” Gondok’hr said. “I need to know for sure. There will be no turning back after this. For my family’s sake I need to be sure I know everything before I act.”

  Djekk nodded thoughtfully. “I understand, master.” The kobold jumped up to his feet and stood atop the desk, almost eye to eye with Gondok’hr. “May I ask why the sudden change?”

  Gondok’hr huffed. “Several years ago Gilifan met with me and offered to help me bring my family back if I could help locate and kill a boy. As time has progressed, and I have come closer to my goals, Gilifan has become withdrawn. He deals with me more in threats now, instead of appealing to my desires. I will not be barked at, nor will I stand being blackmailed by that blackguard. No one will stand between me and my family.”

  “So why not unite with the boy?” Djekk asked.

  “Because the boy is of no use to me,” Gondok’hr said quickly. “If it was his choice, all necromancy would be rooted out and destroyed.” The warlock shook his head. “No, he stands in my way even more than Gilifan. The only difference is Gilifan would stab me in the back instead of facing me directly.”

  “So we will stab him first, eh?” Djekk sneered again and drew the back of his dagger across his throat.

  “After I know how to use his magic,” Gondok’hr said. “Only after.”

  “And what of the dragon?”

  Gondok’hr shrugged. “The wizard cannot defeat the boy. If I deliver the boy’s head, the dragon will not cry over Gilifan.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Another rush of water beat down upon Al from the hole above him. The cold, unforgiving liquid enveloped him as it fell to join the pool. Al blinked his eyes open as the waterfall ceased. His fingers still clung to the handhold in the rock, but he shifted his weight slightly. His legs dangled below him, half-submerged in the pool of water. The sides of this pit were too slick and sheer to climb. He had tried many times, only to fall into the pool.

  He looked up to see the ledge above the pit. Torchlight played upon the ceiling of the hallway from which he had been thrown into the pit after he and Alferug were captured. The hallway was tauntingly close to him, merely three feet above his handhold, but it was too far away for him to reach. Beneath his handhold the walls sloped outward and away from his legs so that there was no way for him to hold himself up other than with his hands. His only other option was to let go and tread water, which is not something he, or any other dwarf, was especially good at.
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  Footsteps echoed in the hallway above.

  Al waited patiently, watching the ledge above him. A shadow danced along the ceiling, mingling with the reflecting light from the torches. Finally a short, stocky figure appeared at the edge and peered down at Al.

  “So you have come at last,” Threnton said.

  “I have no quarrel with you, Brother,” Al said.

  “Is that so?” Threnton replied. “Then why did you sneak into the mountain?”

  Al gruffed. “Because your guards would not let me in the front door,” Al quipped.

  Threnton smiled and folded his thick arms across his round chest. “You turned your back upon your people. From what I hear you even shortened your name so that the tall folk could better speak with you.”

  “I didn’t turn my back on anyone,” Al said.

  “How many times did father offer you the throne?”

  Al sighed. “I never felt it was my calling to lead. I prefer to keep to my own dealings.”

  “Ah yes, you would trade your birthright for a smelly, hot forge.” Threnton produced Al’s hammer from under the folds of his red robes and twirled it over in his hand. “Sometimes I wonder if we had the same mother.”

  “Threnton,” Al began. “Give me the scale and I will be on my way. I have not come for anything else.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Brother,” Threnton growled. “You have come for the throne. I know you returned with Alferug. He was also banished! The two of you came here to depose me, admit it!”

  Al started to speak but a rush of water fell from above, burying him. It was all he could do to close his mouth before much of the water choked him. After it passed he could hear his brother laughing at him.

  “You will not be able to hold onto the wall forever,” Threnton said.

  “Let me have the scale. I need it.”

  “For what?” Threnton asked.

  “I have found the Champion of Truth,” Al said. “I need the scale to help him and the Keeper of Secrets.”

  “Lies!” Threnton hissed. “The tales of the Ancients are nothing more than a method for the humans to hold us under foot. I will not suffer your ignorance, Brother.”

  “No!” Al yelled back. “You listen to me, without the scale, the Champion of Truth will not be able to defeat the dark one. He has returned. Those who follow him are upon us as well. We must do what we can to aid the Keeper of Secrets. Roegudok Hall has always pledged to—”

  “Silence!” Threnton bellowed. “The Ancients abandoned us long ago. The humans now use their memory to control us. Roegudok Hall is now beholden to no one. As long as I am king, there will be no talk of the Keeper of Secrets or the supposed Champion of Truth.”

  “Then we shall all die, Brother,” Al said.

  Threnton thunked the hammer into his open palm and glared down at Al. “We all die someday,” he said. “Either way, whatever danger the humans face is no concern of mine. Roegudok Hall will not intervene this time. Let the tall folk see to themselves.”

  “You will not be able to withstand the forces that will come if you stand idly by, Threnton,” Al warned.

  “Let the armies of man throw themselves at us. Our defenses have never been breached before.”

  “Our defenses will not stop Nagar’s Secret,” Al said solemnly. “Surely you must see the truth in my words.”

  Threnton shook his head. “Kingdoms rise and fall,” he said. “If Tu’luh returns and seeks the power of Nagar’s Secret to rule the lands of man, let him come. I am sure I can broker a truce between him and our kind. We offer him no resistance, and therefore we pose no threat.”

  “This is heresy,” Al said. “You would throw in your lot with he who defied the Ancients and blasphemed their laws?”

  “It matters little what I do,” Threnton said. “You will not be able to hang there forever. In fact, I would wager that you don’t last more than two days before your strength gives out and you sink to your death.”

  Al remained silent, watching his brother stare at him. How he wished he could jump up and strike his brother down. He knew it was the only way to get the scale. Another rush of water fell from above. This time his left hand slipped and he dipped into the pool for a moment before he managed to grab hold and pull himself up again.

  “Perhaps you won’t even last through the night,” Threnton said.

  “I challenge you,” Al said. “By the right of my birth, and in the name of our father I challenge your right to rule. I claim the throne of Roegudok Hall.”

  Threnton let out a loud belly laugh that echoed throughout the hall. “You are pathetic,” he said. “I will not accept your challenge.”

  “You cannot refuse it!” Al bellowed. “By our laws and customs you must accept it!”

  “Ah, but there is no council here to hear your claim. In fact, no one even knows you are here except for a few guards who found you trespassing near my bedchamber. You will die here, in this pit. You are no more able to take the throne than your hammer is able to float.” With that, Threnton tossed Al’s hammer into the pool.

  The hammer splashed down, immediately disappearing below the surface.

  “You are right,” Al said. “We are not of the same mother.”

  Threnton lifted his brow and his smile faded. “Oh?” he asked.

  “My mother could never have given life to a dog like you.”

  “Insults are what someone results to when they know they have lost the argument,” Threnton snipped. “Enjoy your final hours, Al. We shan’t meet again.”

  “Yes we will,” Al promised. “I will knock your head from your body before the fortnight is over.”

  Threnton laughed and shook his head as he turned and walked away. Al pulled up with all of his might and lurched for the ledge, but fell far short, sliding back down to splash in the water. He let out a yell and punched the water before swimming back to his handhold. As if to taunt his impotent rage, the chute above dropped another barrage of water down upon him.

  *****

  “How is he?” Master Wendal asked.

  Lady Arkyn looked up and flipped her golden braid back around her shoulder. “He still sleeps. His fever has broken, though.” She reached down and removed the wet rag from Master Orres’ forehead and gently touched the back of her hand to his skin. It still felt warm, but not as hot as it had been before. “I will stay with him tonight.”

  Master Wendal shook his head. “I think it may be better for you to take watch over the camp tonight,” he said. “I can watch him, but I can’t see in the dark the way that you can.”

  Lady Arkyn nodded. “Alright.” She glanced over her left shoulder. “The others have all eaten.”

  “Thanks to you,” Wendal said.

  Lady Arkyn shrugged. “I have been tracking deer since I was very young. It was not hard.”

  Wendal smiled. “Even still, without you to guide us, we would not have escaped.”

  Lady Arkyn laughed softly. “I think you are the one who enabled us to escape. That was quite a spell you cast back there. I had no idea you were capable of such power.”

  Wendal offered a half smile and shrugged. “It seemed our best option at the time.”

  Lady Arkyn nodded and rose to her feet. “Very well,” she said. “See to it that you change the rag every ten or fifteen minutes. I have left the tea bags here in case he wakes. Otherwise his wounds have been dressed and there is nothing to do but wait and see if he wakes.”

  “He will,” Wendal said.

  Lady Arkyn smiled and slipped past Wendal. “Keep the fires low,” she instructed. Then she darted off through the forest with her bow slung across her back.

  She picked her way through the bushes and ferns until she came to a large, sturdy white oak tree. She glanced around, pausing to enjoy the crisp breeze rustling through the trees as she looked back toward the camp. From this distance, the trees covered the firelight well enough. Her keen, half-elf eyes could just barely make out the glow from the fire through the brush.
She turned to the tree and ascended as gracefully as a squirrel until she sat perched atop a thick branch jutting out about forty feet above the ground. From this point, she could scan the grassy slope as it rose up and away from the forest.

  If any foes had managed to pursue them this far, she would see them long before they could spot her. She let her left leg dangle over the branch as she brought her right knee close in to her chest. She adjusted her bow and leaned her shoulder against the tree.

  Her ears twitched as something stumbled through the underbrush below. She looked down out of curiosity and found a small hare nibbling at plants and twigs as it hopped clumsily along the forest floor. She smiled and watched the animal for a few moments. Then she heard the whisper of wings on the night sky to her right. She looked up and saw an owl. The bird circled around above her and then dropped into a dive, silent as a falling leaf, but much more deadly.

  The rabbit squealed as the owl’s talons ripped into it and tore it from the ground. The owl then beat its wings ferociously to gain lift with its prize. It ascended only an arm’s length away from Arkyn’s perch as it made its way off into the night.

  Lady Arkyn turned her attention back to the hill. As if on cue, two men on horseback crested the hill. A moment later a trio of men appeared, flanked by large hounds. Lady Arkyn reached behind her and readied her bow. She studied the large hounds as they kept their noses to the dirt and trotted around atop the hill. Their handlers stood with the horsemen, waiting for the hounds to signal.

  The dogs stopped.

  Up went their tails and they bellowed low and long. The dogs had caught onto the scent. The handlers pointed and ran off after the dogs. The horsemen galloped off a few yards to the side before descending down the hill.

  Lady Arkyn breathed in deep. “I am no rabbit,” she whispered to the night. “No one shall take our camp tonight.”