The news was a complete shock to the twins as their solitary lives in the L’Alari Keep meant that they did not always have access to the daily situations and threats that arose in the kingdom. Taran began to feel quite foolish for his attitude, as the reality of what he thought was a peaceful life began to shatter right before his eyes.
“Why do you need sand from the Shimmering Tide? If we are near war, then I imagine that everything you set out to do is for a reason.” Sateet spoke up for the first time since the scuffle between her brother and Fogrolir.
“We have two dwarves who specialize in making the oddest, yet most effective weapons we have ever seen. Mange says the iron from Megh Borim is not sturdy enough to do what will become necessary. The Shimmering Tide, however, has sands that are full of iron particles, and so I am here to gather some of that sand for the brothers.”
“When you spoke to your dragon, you talked as though she was going beneath the tide for someone. Is there anything that we need to know about to stay safe, Fogrolir?” Taran asked.
Fogrolir studied the elf – ‘he may be useful to our cause, after all’ he thought to himself.
“My grandson and his father, it has been reported, are living with the beast below the water. Mersoth has gone to speak with them and get them to travel to Thirndor. Their skills are highly sought, and we need their services.”
The waters rippled beneath the crushing waves, and at last a large burst shot high into the sky as Mersoth surfaced and walked onto the beach – her tail and hind quarters still within the water, which swirled about her body.
“Where is Kragjaw, Mersoth?” Fogrolir asked.
Before the dragon could answer, there was another burst of water and Kemoth wandered onto the beach. His shifting colors looked like a kaleidoscope against the glare of the moon. Sitting on the dragon’s back was Kragjaw, alongside him – his father, Kurikjaw.
Fogrolir stared in awe at the beast called Kemoth. It was no wonder this dragon was so feared – as his eyes bore through everyone and everything in his path, as though he could read the thoughts of everyone in sight.
“Kurikjaw! It has been forever!” Fogrolir said as he stepped forward to greet his son-in-law.
Kurikjaw slid off Kemoth’s backside and embraced the elder dwarf – the love from the familial bond was evident to everyone, including Kemoth.
“Fogrolir, it has indeed been too long. Here, let me introduce you to your grandson.” He motioned for Kragjaw to step forward, and the dwarf readily came forward.
“Kragjaw, this is your grandfather, Fogrolir. You have not seen him since you were a baby. If his name sounds familiar, it is because he is the best dragon trainer in all the land. He is, in essence, exactly what you have always wanted to be; a Storm Rider.”
Kragjaw’s eyes filled with tears. The reality was now evident to him: he and his father were no longer alone in the world. They had family – a dragon trainer at that! He was ecstatic and yet could find no words to speak.
“Come here, lad,” Fogrolir said as he held his arms outstretched.
Kragjaw embraced his grandfather, and as they pulled apart from one another, Fogrolir brushed the young dwarf’s hair back and got a good look at his face.
“You look just like your mother, lad. Just like her.” He said as tears welled up and promised to break over the edge of his eyelids. “She was, no doubt, very proud to call you her son.” He slapped Kragjaw on the shoulder and hugged him again.
Fogrolir introduced Sateet and Taran to the Tuminar’s, as well as Kemoth. They sat on the shores and discussed the imminent war. Fogrolir informed everyone of what he knew about the enemies, including the danger that a cyclops presents to a dragon. Kragjaw pulled his backpack off and opened it – inside were small sandbags full of sand from the dragon’s lair beneath the water.
“Mersoth said you would need sand with a high concentration of iron. I figure if the sand in the cave did so well in making Kemoth a new set of wings, then surely it would suffice for whatever undertaking we need it for in Thirndor.”
Fogrolir’s heart tugged at his emotions as he watched Kragjaw speak. Kragjaw’s confidence, though reserved, shone through with unkempt vivacity in the manner in which he was talking as well as how he treated everyone around him. Family – he treated everyone like they were an extension of his family.
“We best move along and make our trip back to Thirndor, lads. If the dwarves from Megh Borim arrive and see these sandbags, there will more than likely be a scuffle or two.” Fogrolir turned and motioned for Mersoth to lower herself to the ground so they could saddle up.
“Fogrolir,” Taran spoke timidly, “the harness you have appears to only hold four people, and yet there are five of us.”
“Hmm, yes, this does present a problem. Either someone must double up in the saddle, or be carried in the arms of Mersoth.”
Fogrolir and Sateet both smiled – Taran shook his head and laughed. He did not want to ride in the claws of the dragon once more, but if he must do so then at least it would be voluntary on this trip.
“There is another alternative,” Kemoth spoke from the water. “I may not fly much anymore, but I am faster in these waters than any of you could ever dream of being in the skies. Who would like to ride on the back of the watery ‘beast’ of the tides?”
Taran, being mortified still of flying, stepped forward –
“Do you promise to get me to L’Alari Keep, safely?” he inquired.
“Dear boy, the only promise I make is to protect you with my life. If we are attacked, and you are injured, as long as you live, I have done my job. Now, would you like to take the ride or not?”
Taran shrugged his shoulders and walked forward. Kemoth stared at the elf – his countenance was one of bravery – and yet a deep fear was penetrating through his veins.
“Well then, that is all settled. Kemoth, we shall see you at the L’Alari Keep!”
“Indeed, you shall. Taran can wave at you as you approach the island to land upon the grassy ridge.” Kemoth let out a laugh at his own joke.
“I do believe it will be the two of you looking for us as you swim ashore.”
“Mersoth, my dear friend. You could not outrun me in the air, and I more than caught you in the tides. You stand no chance of beating us to the keep!”
“We shall see about that!” Mersoth said.
The party were all seated in their harnesses and locked in for the journey. Mersoth shot into the sky with such velocity that Fogrolir and company could not hang onto their harnesses. Their arms flailed about for a moment as Mersoth gathered speed in the starry nighttime sky.
Kemoth laughed and shook his head.
“Hang on tightly, dear boy!” he said.
He launched himself across the top of the water like a torpedo locked onto its target. The waves stood no chance as he slashed through them, sending water in every direction.
Taran was frozen in place for a time – the suddenness and speed at which Kemoth moved enthralled the elf. Finally, he let out a laugh and threw his arms into the air as his hood fell back and his hair whipped in the wind.
“This is like sailing, but with real power!” he yelled as the thunder of the water all around him slammed back into place as Kemoth sliced through.
“There is no man-made power like that of a dragon in motion!” Kemoth laughed and pushed ahead at an even greater speed.
He and Taran whizzed by a small flat boat – the force of the water rocked it with such momentum that it almost capsized. The inhabitants on the boat fell into the water and immediately fought to climb back aboard. They wanted no part of whatever it was that tossed their boat like it was paper.
“Sorry!” Taran yelled as he looked back at the flatboat – its lanterns swayed back and forth in an almost mesmerizing motion.
“Kemoth! You are a magnificent beast!” he yelled with enthusiasm.
“I am not a beast, young elf!” Kemoth roared back as he surged ahead – his tail whipped side to side
as he propelled through the water for the last part of their journey: “I am a DRAGON!” he yelled.
As the words rang out into the speckled starlight, Kemoth angled upward and left the water. He cleared the small bluff overlooking the backside of L’Alari Keep and landed firmly on the soft grass. He let loose a roar that knocked snow off the treetops in the mountains just ahead, before kneeling and allowing Taran to disengage his restraints and step off his backside.
The elf hit the grass and laughed again, the pure joy of raw emotion spewed from his soul and for a moment, he was like a child once more – full of merriment and contentment.
“Kemoth that was exhilarating!” he boasted as he walked around the dragon’s shoulders and within eyesight. He could hardly contain his laughter, and as he thought of the looks on the elves faces that were tossed from their flatboat, he laughed even harder.
“Those poor elves! They probably think a Magoban passed through at the rate of speed we were moving! Where are the others?”
Kemoth’s eyes lit with a kindred spirit as he began to laugh as well. His laugh was a deep, hearty laugh, and it had been a very long time since he had come across anything worth laughing over.
“They will think twice about fishing in the Shimmering Tide from now on – especially after dark! As for the others, I imagine they will be arriving any moment now. Before they do, however, I want to speak with you, Taran.”
Taran stopped laughing and wiped the tears from his cheeks. Though his time with Kemoth had been only an hour or so, he knew the dragon was not one for idle talk.
“Go ahead then, Kemoth. I am listening.”
“I sense a presence in you, young one. A sense of foreboding, as though you feel like what you do does not matter or has little to no bearing on life. Why do you feel this way?”
Taran paused – he was not ready for such a question from a dragon. In fact, he was not ready for such a question at all.
“I do not know, Kemoth. I just…it seems like my sister and I were placed here just so that we would be out of the way. Ours was a family of outcasts, and it feels like we have been thrown into that same pit without a fighting chance to be normal. It is not fair…” he paused, “it just – it is not fair,” he repeated himself.
Kemoth nodded his head and inched closer to the elf.
“Tell me, why would being an outcast be a bad thing? Who is it that speaks the words into your heart that say you are not normal? Did King Vulred do such a thing?”
“No. Vulred did not, but –…”
“Has someone close to you whose opinion you value your life said such a thing about you or your sister?”
Taran sighed.
“No. No one has come right out and said it, but I can feel it Kemoth! I can feel the rejection!”
“You are the one who is rejecting yourself, young one. You have built a wall of opinions that only you think about. No one has told you that you are not welcomed in the elven lands. You are an elf! You have a job to do – a critical job. A job that requires your full attention and dedication, and in due time may require your life. You must know that everything you do is for a purpose. The trees do not grow merely because it is what they do. They grow to offer protection to the animals beneath their branches and shade for the weary traveler, and so on. In return, the animals show their appreciation by making their homes in the wooded areas where they can keep the trees company. The trees do not become sad because they are left out. Neither do they bicker over which is more important between the smallest fig and the tallest oak. They are happy to serve their purpose, and you must learn to be content to serve yours.”
“What do you know of my purpose, Kemoth? What am I supposed to do?” Taran demanded – his voice raised with a touch of annoyance.
“Taran, I will tell you something that no one else in these parts knows. You must keep it to yourself, for revealing these words to the wrong person could result in a lot of pain and suffering,” he paused for a moment, “or even death for those you love. Do you understand me?”
Taran stared at the dragon but said nothing; his face was blank, and he was unsure of himself.
“Do you understand me?” Kemoth said with the slightest hint of a growl in his voice.
Taran nodded.
“Long before this world was made, the White King and his son, the Gray Prince existed. Together, with their special enforcer, they made our world. In making this world, they hoped to have a utopia that would last until the end of time itself. Time, as you may know, does not stop. They appointed guardians to protect the world they built. Those guardians have specific orders in which they cannot defy without being exiled. A group of defenders challenged the White King and attempted to destroy this world. The White King sent out new guardians to protect the world from complete devastation, but they are not allowed to meddle in the affairs of others unless it is a direct threat to their cover.”
“So, they are like spies then?” Taran asked.
Kemoth shook his head and smiled.
“Yes, they are like spies – though their mission in life is far more important. The Demoweir was one of twelve others exiled, and next to her master, she is the most powerful witchcraft user in this world. She is known to some as a goddess, but in reality, she is nothing more than a demon. The only thing standing between her complete decimation of this world are the guardians. I say guardians, but we are actually known as sentinels of the realm.”
“You mean to say that you are one of these sentinels?”
“Yes. I tell you this in confidence as it must remain a secret for now. The day will come – indeed, it is already fast approaching – when the sentinels will be called forth to witness something that this world has never seen before. The demons, led by the Demoweir will all attend, as will the guardians. We do not know what the demons look like in this world, just as they have no idea of our form.
I would not tell you this, except the White King, spoke to me long ago and told me of the day I would meet you and what I must confide with you. Taran,” he looked the elf over, aware that the young elf was in shock, “you have a role in this war. A vital role. Do not be discouraged nor disheartened. The day is coming when you will shine like the stars above, and all will know your name. Until that time comes, continue with your job and do it diligently.”
Taran wanted to ask more questions as the news flooded his mind and for the first time in his life, he did not feel useless. Before he could ask any questions, however, Mersoth set her feet upon the earth, and Sateet disembarked.
“What you did to those elves in the water was not very nice, Kemoth!” she said with a hearty chuckle.
“Eh, they will be okay. What is life if a dragon cannot have a bit of fun with a new friend?” he glanced at Taran.
“You mean to say that my brother is not afraid of you?” Sateet’s eyes were wide with wonderment – for never had her brother been fond of any creature bigger than he was.
“He got me here safely, and we had a bit of fun on the way, sister. How can I be afraid of a bea…erm…dragon that moves with such precision? It was a pleasure, and I do hope we can do it again someday.”
Kemoth looked at Taran and then at Sateet and tilted his head toward the sky:
“Perhaps – but next time, let us do that dance in the sky!” and with that remark, he leaped into the air and unfurled his metal wings. He roared once more as he shot across the heavens like a shooting star on its lone journey home.
“He is a fantastic dragon! Simply amazing!” Taran beamed with excitement as Kemoth’s behemoth body arced through the nighttime sky.
“Thank you for bringing us along on this short adventure, Fogrolir. I shall not forget it – or you.” Sateet waved and smiled at the dwarves as she backed away from Mersoth to allow her ample room to lift into the sky.
“Thank you for joining me! The both of you! When this is over, we shall see the two of you again. Until then, keep alert and be safe!”
Mersoth rose into the sky as snow s
tarted to pour down. The snow was finally reaching the keep – winter had come at last.
24
Thirndor was robust with activity when Mersoth and company returned. They landed in the city expecting to see elves and dwarves slaving away in preparation for war. Instead, they saw a full-on brawl as they flew over the smokestacks of the tiny homes. The dwarves of Megh Borim had arrived, along with Skalmaena – as had the dwarves from Gornfurum.
Mersoth banked for the dragon stables to set down and let her riders off her backside. As she swooped down, a stone whizzed past her head. She turned her head to find the perpetrator of the thrown rock to no avail.
“Fogrolir – who did you leave in charge?” Kurikjaw asked as he grabbed his bags and hopped off Mersoth.
“Sadly, the Taberlim brothers. King Vulred is supposed to be keeping things calm, but I can see that he has not had much luck.”
The three began their walk toward the town, passing by ransacked stands, destroyed carts and the like. Beautiful linen laid strewn about the streets, ripped in pieces and cast about like trash as the inhabitants yelled and swore at one another. Torches were lit, and lanterns were smashed as the dwarves screamed at one another.
To no surprise, Mange and Barth stood in the middle of the square, weapons in hand, daring anyone to charge the two.
“I will not take orders from you!” one dwarf shouted at the brothers.
“Why not? The only thing you are good at is cooking! Taking my order is the only thing you could do properly.” Mange shot back.
“We all know you are the cook – after all, your wife is the warrior!” Barth chimed in.
“I will slaughter you for such this mockery; you pompous ass!” the dwarf yelled.
“See that, dear brother? He aims to slay us! He really does think of nothing but cooking!” Mange yelled as he laughed.
“Enough!” Fogrolir yelled as he ran into the midst of the crowd and began shoving his way to the front.
“I said enough!” he repeated. No one listened as the group continued to push toward the two brothers.
Mersoth let out an ear-piercing screech – the entire town became silent. She lowered her head and stalked her way through the stone street; dust and dirt flew about with every step.
Demoweir's Rise (Great War Chronicles Book 2) Page 19