by Sam Ferguson
His first thoughts went to the dragon he had seen in the warlock’s house. He jumped to his feet and involuntarily let out a sigh of relief when he failed to spy anything more than a couple of buzzards circling the area.
“Lepkin, up here,” Lady Arkyn called out. Erik turned and went up a ladder that she dropped for him from the stable’s roof. As he neared the top rung he turned and his mouth dropped. A man bearing the colors of House Cedreau rode at the front of an army easily more than four times the size of what he had left. “We have fifty men,” Lady Arkyn said as if reading his thoughts. “Braun led twenty others out with the caravan about an hour ago.” She squinted her eyes for a moment and scanned the oncoming army. “They have more than two hundred.”
“I thought killing the warlock would give us a better advantage,” Erik admitted.
“We are not dead yet,” Gorin gruffed from below.
“Nor shall we be,” Lady Arkyn said. She put an arrow to her bow string and aimed high into the sky.
“Can you hit the man in front?” Erik said.
“I can try,” she said. She stood up to her full height and set the arrow loose. The missile flew high into the midday clouds and disappeared only to arc down and stick in the ground well short of its mark. “Too far,” Lady Arkyn said.
Erik hooked his feet around the outer edges of the ladder and used the leather around his forearms to buffer his skin as he slid down the ladder. He straightened his sword belt and gave Gorin a nod. “Let’s finish this.”
Gorin nodded and the two walked to the front of the line. Erik looked to his right and left. Thin, hastily carved pikes jutted out from the ground like jagged fangs of some wild beast, but Erik knew they would not deter the enemy.
“We slaughtered them,” Gorin commented. “For every one of ours that fell we dropped at least five of theirs, yet they still come at us.”
“They are determined,” Erik replied.
“You know, Lepkin, I heard about what you did at Valtuu Temple.” Gorin turned and looked into Erik’s eyes. “I also heard Lady Arkyn’s account of what happened at the senate hall.” He paused and looked back to the approaching army. “If there was ever a time to use your dragon form, now would be it.”
“It is not so simple,” Erik said. He completely agreed, but he had no idea how he had unlocked Lepkin’s power before, nor did he have the time now to fumble around with it. The marching feet pounded the earth before them. They moved as one being, each of them in lockstep with the other. As they neared they started to beat their swords, axes, and spears against their shields. The terrible rhythm sent chills down Erik’s spine, yet he stood firm and drew his sword. He unleashed the sword’s magical flame and held his weapon at the ready.
“They look to be in range now,” Gorin said. Erik nodded. Gorin turned and gave a sharp gesture with his left arm. Lady Arkyn and three others, for that was all the archers the army had left, drew their bows back and let their arrows fly. Two men in the front fell as the shafts beat down upon them. The enemy army marched on, paying the archers almost no mind at all. As Lady Arkyn and the others continued to fire, the enemy was able to defend themselves easily enough for the most part. Only a handful of men had fallen by the time the army came within fifty yards of Erik and his men.
A mighty wave of shouts and roars rippled forth from the enemy and they charged in. Erik held his sword up in a high guard, preparing for his final battle.
Gorin stepped forward and yanked the pike nearest him out of the ground and heaved it with all of his strength. The point drove through several men and pinned them to the ground like writhing rabbits on a spit. Gorin smiled, pleased with his work. “That will put a damper in their spirits!” A chorus of cheers went up from Erik’s men. Gorin pulled his mighty hammer from its harness and went back to Erik’s side.
Then the enemy was upon them like a tidal wave crashing onto a beach of stone. Bodies flew every which way as swords and axes found their marks, men rammed into each other using shields or their own armored shoulders as they ripped into one another. Erik managed to drop a couple of soldiers before being pushed back by the sheer force and momentum of the opposing group. The wooden pikes snapped and splintered, some of them catching an enemy warrior like a stuck pig, others being cleaved down by axes or swords.
The enemy force fanned out, spreading around Erik and his men, closing them in and grinding them down. Comrades fell around Erik, but others quickly stepped in to take their places and fill the gaps. House Lokton’s men fought gallantly that day, but it was not enough. Slowly, the fifty men became thirty, and then twenty. Finally, there were twelve, including Erik, Masters Gorin and Wendal, and Lady Arkyn. They all fought near each other, helping to guard each other’s backs when danger struck close.
Wendal weaved lightning in and around their circle, frying scores of men who came too near. Any that managed to slip through the spells were quickly squashed by Gorin’s hammer or cut down by Lady Arkyn’s flashing scimitar. Erik also racked up a number of fallen foes as his flaming sword devoured many warriors.
A whirlwind tore through the enemy army and blasted the group of twelve apart, flinging each off separately. Erik caught a glimpse of Master Wendal throwing a counter spell at the enemy warlocks, but a sword pierced Wendal’s chest before he could finish and he fell to the ground. A group of seven jumped on Gorin, pounding on the giant man furiously so that Erik was sure he was also dead. He couldn’t see anyone else. He struggled to his feet just in time to see a spear flying for his chest. Reflexively he flipped his sword around and managed to catch the spear’s tip. While he evaded the deadly part, the tail end of the spear whipped around and split his upper lip open.
A warrior rushed in, and was a breath away from finishing Erik with a mighty chop of his axe when a dwarf appeared out of nowhere and drove a warhammer into the man’s chest. Erik stumbled back a few feet with eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. The dwarf was riding some kind of large lizard!
A bugle blast made Erik turn around and he saw an entire army of dwarves slithering through the field around him to tear into the enemy. He spun back around and watched as the dwarves cut the enemies down left and right. One dwarf even rode his lizard under a horse and struck up into the horse’s belly with a spear while the lizard tore one of the horse’s legs clean off in its jaws. The rider was flung to the ground and barely managed to scream before another lizard bit into his neck and the dwarf rider thrust a spear into his chest.
“What in the…” Erik muttered as he staggered back. He wasn’t sure whether to run or join in the fight. He had never seen anything so gruesome and brutal in his life. The lizards moved as quickly as any horse he had ever seen, and they were as vicious as their riders, eager to tear into anything near enough to its jaws.
“Cavedogs!” Gorin shouted as he threw off the last warrior from his back. He pumped a large fist into the air and gave a sharp whistle. “The dwarves have come for you!” he taunted the enemy.
Erik was happy to see Gorin was still alive, if a little worse for wear. A streak of blood covered the left side of his head and he was obviously limping as he moved to fetch his hammer. Erik looked around for Lady Arkyn, but he saw something else first.
One of the dwarves carried a strange, yet familiar banner over his head. The banner’s field was golden yellow with the simple, yet exquisite image of a dragon in full roar emblazoned in black. Red flames flew forth from its mouth and a series of runes were written beneath. As his eyes took in the runes, a fire grew within his breast. Somehow he knew this image, and he understood the words.
“Sharukan em nah’kunah,” he said. The fire in his chest expanded and grew into the deepest parts of his soul before exploding out into his limbs. Bones stretched and skin covered itself in scales as it stretched over new muscles. A pair of wings poked through his back and spread wide over the field. His mouth elongated and grew enormous fangs while his fingers became sharp talons and claws.
Erik let out a deafening roar that
forced all but the dwarves to cover their ears and shy away. As before, his senses were heightened, and he was able to see the battle clearly. In an instant he slashed down with his mighty talons and took seven men to their doom. Then he leapt forward, beating his great wings twice to fly beyond the dwarves and cut off the enemy’s retreat. His hot breath spewed death over the last of the enemy warlocks and took several warriors down with them. Something poked his hind leg so he turned and swatted the spearman down with his tail, crushing the man like a dry twig. The cave dogs rushed in, weaving around and under him as he continued to terrorize the battlefield and eradicate the enemy.
With his keen sight, he saw the man on horseback bearing House Cedreau’s colors turn and leave, along with a woman at his side. He thought to devour them as well, but like his senses, his power of discernment was increased as well and when he looked at the fleeing pair, he saw something that compelled his mercy. So he turned his attention to the warriors underfoot and let the retreating pair escape to the forest on the western side of the field.
All around him the dwarves whooped and hollered as they cut through the enemy ranks. Erik crushed opponents by the dozen, swatting others into oblivion with his tail or disintegrating scores of helpless men before him. Lady Arkyn and Gorin were standing at the back of the field, near the stable with mouths agape and wide eyes, but Erik paid them little mind other than to see that they were safely away from the last of the fight.
Axes and spears broke against his thick scales, as though each one was a shield of the best steel backed by muscles of iron and bones of granite. The enemy soon broke rank and tried to escape, but those who were lucky enough to escape Erik’s wrath lived only long enough to be run down by the dwarves and their savage cavedogs.
As the fighting wound down and the last of the enemy lay on the ground, Erik turned about to scan the field. His heart was still heavy as he looked over the remains of his house and the many who had died in his defense, but it was not the same as before. In his dragon form it was easier for him to distance himself from the emotions and accept the events as they had transpired. He turned and started to walk back toward the stable, but stopped when a dwarf approached.
It was the dwarf who held the golden banner of the dragon. The dwarf’s long, white beard was stained with blood, but the banner he held was still clean, flapping in the morning wind. The dwarf looked up to Erik with wise, deep blue eyes and smiled.
“My name is Alferug,” the dwarf said telepathically. “I am Al’s friend, and he has told me about your plight.”
Erik nodded and a tendril of smoke slithered out from his nostrils. “How is Al?” Erik asked in his mind, hoping he was communicating correctly.
Alferug smiled, showing that he had heard Erik’s thoughts. “Al now sits upon the throne of Roegudok Hall. The dwarf folk have their proper leader.”
Erik’s leathery lips tightened over his fangs in what could only be recognized as a smile. “That is good. So he has the scale?”
Alferug shook his head. “I have the scale with me, and I wait to go to Valtuu Temple with you to end your plight.”
Erik hardly scanned the dwarf for more than a second before he knew he could trust him. His dragon form easily saw into the dwarf’s soul. Erik turned his eye back to the banner. “What is that you carry?”
Alferug smiled. “It is the symbol of the Ancients, a sacred flag that was given to us after the founding of Roegudok Hall.”
“The runes below, they are familiar to me,” Erik said. “But I do not remember what they mean.”
Alferug’s smile widened. “From the flames I am born, on the wings of eternity I fly,” Alferug said. “That is what they mean. It is an ancient phrase passed to us from the Ancients.
Erik nodded his massive head. “It is time to return to the temple,” he said.
Alferug nodded. “When Lepkin is in dragon form, Nagar’s Secret is able to control him. How is it with you?” he asked.
“I feel nothing, other than peace and confidence with my strength,” Erik said.
“There is no evil entering into your mind?” Alferug pressed.
Erik shook his great head. “I am the same in this form as I am when in my normal form.”
Alferug nodded and looked to the others with him “They will follow you,” he said. “Al has sent us to escort you.”
Erik looked off to the east, extending his neck to its full height and peering out over the vast carpet of green trees to the horizon. “Why should we walk, when I can fly?” he asked.
“You could fly for a short while, I am sure, but it is not wise,” Alferug cautioned. “Until you have passed through the Exalted Test of Arophim, you should take care not to over extend yourself.”
Erik looked to the scale. “When you use your magic, I will no longer be able to use this form.” He sighed and a bit of flame spat from his mouth to dissipate in the air. “There is something familiar about this, and I do not want to give it up just yet.”
Alferug shrugged, but did not answer.
Erik looked down to the dwarf’s eyes and saw that the creature was holding something back. “What is it that you know that I do not?” Erik asked.
“Do not ask me now,” Alferug begged. “Trust me a little while longer, and I will tell you in due time.”
With his heightened perception, Erik knew that Alferug was not hiding it out of spite or malice, so he relented and did not press the subject further. “Give me a few minutes then,” Erik said. “Often I have gazed at the birds and wondered what it was like to fly. I would fly now, and feel it for myself.”
“I do not think that would be…” Alferug stopped his protest. Erik wasn’t listening anyway.
The great dragon sat back on his hind legs and leapt up into the air. A powerful rush of air flattened the grass and bent the nearby trees. Dust and small rocks kicked up into the air and the dwarves all covered their eyes until Erik was high enough that his wings did not disturb them.
The circling buzzards scattered away as Erik climbed up into the sky. Each beat of his massive wings propelled him up fifty yards. He smiled wide and let out a mighty roar, relishing the rush of the wind on his face and the utter feeling of power and control he felt as the world fell away underneath him. Soon he was parallel with, and then far above the mountaintops in the distance. The clouds became his playground and he looped and soared through them.
Despite his altitude, he could clearly see the impatient dwarves below him, waiting for him to return and continue on with his duties. He understood their urgency, but he felt he deserved this reprieve. He streaked through the sky, out to the west. His keen eyes spotted rabbits and deer below through clearings in the canopy of trees. Then he circled back toward the north and let himself glide on the wind. He closed his eyes and let the experience completely envelope him.
Then something else came over him. He couldn’t identify the feeling exactly. It was heavy, foreboding. It reminded him of the nights when he had to go into the basement. The feeling he would get as he blew out the last lantern below and only the light from the door above lit his way. The same hair-raising feeling of darkness encroaching on him from behind nagged him now. He opened his eyes, but the world was a bright as it had been only a moment before, yet the feeling remained.
Was this the power of the book? Was Nagar’s Secret reaching out to snare him as well? He wasn’t sure, but he knew it was time to change back. He dropped down suddenly, turning his wings up at the last moment so that he landed as gracefully as a sparrow upon a tree branch.
He then spied Alferug. “How do I change back?” he asked him with his thoughts.
Alferug frowned. “Think of the runes I will show you,” he replied. The next mental image that came was a series of golden runes. As had happened before, they were familiar, and Erik was able to understand their sounds even without comprehending their meaning. As soon as he pictured them in his mind again, a warm, tingling sensation overcame him and he found himself standing on the ground,
back in Lepkin’s human form.
“We should get moving,” Alferug said.
“We will go with you,” Lady Arkyn said as she and Gorin approached.
“No, for now we should part ways,” he said. “Go and catch up with Braun. Take any survivors we have left with you. I must go to the temple alone.”
“We will be with him,” Alferug said quickly.
Lady Arkyn nodded. “I have heard of you, Alferug,” she said respectfully. “I was saddened when the dwarves turned away from their traditions.”
Alferug grinned wide and folded his thick arms. “I am pleased to report that a new king sits on the throne, and the dwarves have returned to their traditions,” he said emphatically.
“Who is king of the dwarves?” Gorin asked.
“Al, my friend,” Erik answered quickly.
Alferug nodded. “Aldehenkaru’hktanah Sit’marihu, the rightful heir has taken the throne and now Roegudok Hall has pledged its support to King Mathias in this time of great need.”
Gorin smiled and held out his hand to Erik. “Until we meet again, Master Lepkin,” he said.
Erik took the hand in his and gave it a hearty shake. “We will see each other soon, I am sure of it.”
Lady Arkyn then stepped forward and looked into Erik’s eyes. “I wish you luck,” she said. The tone in her voice clued Erik in to the fact that she had something else on her mind, but he did not press her to discover what it was.
“And I wish you the best,” Erik replied.
“Come,” said a red-bearded dwarf hotly. “We have a long road, and I would wager there will be more enemies between us and the temple.”
“Faengoril is right,” Alferug said. “We should be off.”
*****
Gilifan emerged from the forest and surveyed the scene before him. Crows, buzzards, and eagles squabbled with each other over carcasses in the late afternoon sun. Burnt tents and bits of wood and metal lay scattered over what must have been a camp the day before. Gilifan strode through the mess, carefully picking his way through so as to avoid dirtying the bottom of his robes. A pack of wolves chased the vultures away from a horse carcass and began to feast upon the fallen. Beyond them, wisps of smoke lingered in the air above the razed manor.