by Sam Ferguson
The rift closed with a crackling sparkle of blue and green light, and then Njar was gone.
Lady Arkyn looked down to Willow’s body. “What could be more dangerous than Tu’luh?” she asked herself.
CHAPTER 2
Erik tossed and turned on his bed. Beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead and matted the hair against his pillow. His limbs moved in erratic jerks and swings, twisting the blanket over his body as he murmured and groaned in his sleep. He was having another nightmare. In his mind, he saw a large fireball fall from the sky and explode into the walls of a large city. Flames shot out around the impact site and smoke billowed upward, thick and black. A man upon a great horse emerged from the flames, carrying a sword as long as most spears, and wider than an ax blade. With one swing, the remainder of the walls crashed down around the city. The hulking man rode his horse into the city, issuing fire from his mouth and clearing whole buildings with his sword as the weapon seemed to grow to impractical proportions with each additional swing. Men and women shrieked and ran in terror, but none escaped the wrath of the horseman.
Erik stood on the cobblestone streets, facing the strange creature and determined not to let him destroy the rest of the city. He pulled his weapon and moved forward to fight. He blocked the first swing of the horseman’s sword, but the impact against his blade drove him to the side and crushed him against a stone wall.
The horseman looked at Erik with fiery, white eyes and opened his mouth. Fire, hotter than anything a dragon could produce, erupted from the horseman’s mouth and shot outward toward Erik, but it didn’t come quickly, it moved slowly through the air, as if the horseman delighted in watching Erik squirm. Erik tried to push the humongous sword away, but the weapon held firm, pinning him to the wall. The young warrior couldn’t move, and he couldn’t escape.
Just as the fires came close enough that the heat burned the oil from his forehead and dried his skin, something grabbed his arm.
“Erik,” a voice called.
Erik turned and saw Tu’luh the Red, the immense dragon that had caused so much pain and destruction in Terramyr. Somehow he was here, grabbing hold of Erik and pulling him away from the horseman’s fire attack. As soon as Erik was free, he lashed out at Tu’luh.
“Get off of me!” Erik shouted as he pushed with all of his might.
Suddenly the fires of the nightmare were gone, and a young monk crashed into a dresser along the wall a few feet away from Erik’s bed. Erik panted crazily, his adrenaline surging and his anger boiling. It took him several seconds to realize what he had done. By that time, the young monk was already picking himself up off the floor and brushing his robes off.
“My fault,” the monk said. “Shermin told me not to try and wake you from your night terrors by touching you.”
Erik nodded and scowled angrily. “You should have used the water,” Erik said hotly. Since his arrival, Erik had warned the others of his nightmares, and instructed them to use a cup of water to splash his face rather than try to wake him with physical contact. It was dangerous, as he couldn’t always control his body’s reactions.
“I’m sorry,” the monk said. “I forgot the water, and given the way you were fretting about, I didn’t want to waste time getting the water from downstairs and risk letting you fall out of the bed.”
“Better that I fall onto the floor than you get hurt,” Erik said, the anger in his voice softening a bit as he came more fully to his senses. “Are you all right?”
The monk nodded. “I am fine. A bit of a bruised ego, perhaps, but a monk should not have an ego in any case, so I suppose it is for the best.”
Erik smiled and wiped his forehead. “What is your name?” Erik asked.
“I am Nolan,” the monk said. “I usually work the lower gardens,” he added. “But as Shermin was busy with other affairs tonight, I volunteered to be your watcher.” Judging by Nolan’s tall, lanky build, Erik guessed the monk to be about seventeen. He had a head full of black curls and a pair of thick glasses resting on the bridge of his pointy nose. A patchwork of freckles dotted the young monk’s cheeks as well, completing the awkward teenager’s appearance.
Erik nodded. “Nolan, my sincere apologies. Thank you for waking me, but next time, perhaps get the water first.”
Nolan smiled. “Of course,” he said with a slight bow of his head. “Is there anything you require before going back to sleep?”
Erik shook his head. “I won’t be going back to sleep, but I don’t need anything either. Thank you.”
Nolan wrung his hands and knit his brow as if trying to formulate something in his mind. “Can I ask you something?”
Erik nodded. “If you like.”
“Brother Shermin told us that you had agreed to fight the demon that plagues us every few months, so I understand why you have stayed with us.”
Erik nodded. “Yes, the spell that holds the demon in his plane is deteriorating. When Shermin discovered that I am a sahale, he asked if I would stay on and wait for the next time the spell weakened enough for the demon to come.”
Nolan nodded eagerly. “And, I am certain you will defeat it too. But, what I don’t know is why you came here in the first place. Had news of the demon spread to your lands, or had you come for some other reason?”
“After I left…” Erik caught himself before telling the young man that he had lived with a tribe of orcs. “Several months ago, I was in one of the villages down in the valley below. I was looking for a place to try and find a way to calm my nightmares. I overheard one of your brother monks while buying supplies. The shopkeep was ribbing him about giving up the life of a soldier to become a hermit in the mountains.”
“That would be Brother Lucas, he was a great knight before coming here,” Nolan cut in.
“Yes, well, after hearing Brother Lucas talk about finding peace here, I thought I might give it a go. I came here shortly thereafter. Finding your extensive library was a nice surprise as well,” Erik said with a smile.
Nolan looked over to the desk nearby and stared at the pile of books. “What are you studying, exactly?” he asked.
“Well, I had hoped to find information on sahale, but absent that I have found a few things of interest. Most of them deal with the Four Horsemen.”
Nolan’s eyes went wide. “That’s one of my favorite subjects too!” Nolan reached into a leather pouch at his side and brought up a leather bound journal. “Look, I have made sketches of what I think they look like.” Erik was about to refuse, but Nolan shoved the book into his hands.
Erik opened the book and flipped past the first couple of pages until he came to the first sketch. “You have talent,” Erik commented as he studied the image. There on the page was a masterfully rendered sketch of a large human warrior riding atop a six-legged horse. An oversized sword hung from the horseman’s waist, and a great scythe was in his left hand. Erik flipped the page and found another two horsemen sketched out in charcoal.
“I draw what I think they will look like, of course,” Nolan said with a sheepish grin. “I don’t know what they actually look like, but…”
Erik smiled. He flipped past the last horseman and then saw a large dragon’s head. In neat handwriting below the image was written the name “Tu’luh the Red” in ink. “You drew this as well?”
Nolan nodded. “Well, the rest of the book contains other important figures that I have read about.” Nolan tried to stand up and reach out for the book, but Erik was intrigued now. After Tu’luh there was a rendering of Nagar the Black, the elf sorcerer that had worked with Tu’luh to create a terrible and dark magic. As he continued, he saw other images, some he recognized, and others presumably taken from historical figures in the closer regions surrounding the monastery that he had not heard of. There was an orc chief as well. Then, near the middle of the thick book was a drawing with a face he would have recognized anywhere.
“This is Master Lepkin?” Erik said as he looked up to Nolan.
The young monk was wringing hi
s hands nervously. “Yes, well, it’s a work in progress. I’ll take it back…”
Erik held out a hand to stop Nolan. “Hold on, this is good. So you have the book separated into categories then. Villains in the front, and heroes in the back, am I right?”
“Yes, but—”
Erik pulled back away from Nolan’s reaching hand and continued flipping through the pages. “I’m almost done,” he promised. The next page had a drawing of Lady Dimwater. It wasn’t entirely accurate, but the quality of the illustration was brilliant. He continued through the book until he came to a page that had a sketch of him. Erik stopped and stared at the image. It took him by surprise to see himself in the book.
“Sorry,” Nolan offered in a quiet voice. “It’s just, I never met a hero in real life before…”
Erik looked at the image. His likeness had been captured well, almost too well. It was obvious that Nolan had been watching him during his stay at the monastery. The drawing showed Erik in a dashing pose with sword drawn and sparkling as he held it up high. The caption underneath read, “Erik Lokton, The Champion of Truth.”
“I’m not sure that I am a hero,” Erik said as he closed the book and gave it back to Nolan. “Certainly Master Lepkin and Lady Dimwater belong in the book, but I am not sure I do.”
“But I have heard of what you have done,” Nolan said. “Shermin has told us. You are possibly the greatest hero to live. You have defeated dragons and wizards and…”
Erik held up a hand. “Nolan, it’s getting late,” he said in an attempt to change the subject. The truth was, Erik wasn’t sure he was a hero at all. Along with the nightmares that plagued his sleep, he had enough doubts about who he really was during the day to make it nearly impossible to accept the title of hero. Besides that, nothing he had done in the war against Tu’luh had been on his own anyway. There had always been others to help him through most of the toughest parts. “Master Lepkin has given a lifetime of service,” Erik put in. “If I should spend the rest of my life trying to live up to his legacy, I should be lucky to become half the man he is.”
Nolan took the book back and then went for the door. “May I ask, just one more question?”
Erik sighed impatiently. “As long as it’s a quick one.”
“You said you came here to learn more about sahale, but you are one. What more would you need to know that you can’t figure out for yourself?”
Erik thought for a moment. He had sahale blood running through his veins all right, but since beginning his travels, he was discovering much that he had not expected. There was a darker side to having such powers, or perhaps he had a darker side to him thanks to his specific blood line. He wasn’t sure. That was what he wished to figure out. He looked up to Nolan and shrugged. “I guess, just as a boy needs a father to learn what it is to become a man, a sahale needs a mentor to show him how to navigate the balance of being both man, and dragon.”
Nolan nodded and reached for the handle on the door. “And here I thought we monks were supposed to have all the wisdom and answers,” he said. “I’ll retire downstairs again and let you sleep. Should you need me again, I will bring water the first time.” Nolan smiled and went for the door, taking with him the candle he had brought with him, and leaving Erik alone in the darkened room.
Erik watched the door for a few moments and then straightened out his blanket and lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. Instead of giving in to sleep, however, Erik spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, plagued by concerns about his own inadequacies, and suspicions that his biological heritage was more dangerous than anyone understood.
He left early the following morning, taking to his usual meditation spot. Since he had arrived at this monastery, Shermin, the apparent leader of the monks, had insisted he meditate daily. It was supposed to help Erik clear his mind and connect with the deeper parts of his soul so he could find inner peace. Sometimes it worked, others it didn’t, but after a night like the one Erik had just experienced, he was more than eager to give it a shot.
As he looked down now, he could see that the bluff where the monastery sat was some three miles away. He could just make out the dot that was the monastery for the Monks of the Southern Light, a religious order similar to the priests in Valtuu Temple. They were not blind, as those in Valtuu Temple, but they did revere dragons and sought after wisdom and knowledge, despite the fact that their knowledge of dragons was far lesser than even the most basic neophyte of Valtuu Temple. They worshipped the Old Gods, Icadion first and foremost. They were more than simple historians though, as they sought to spread their religion to the regions around them, and had an active missionary service. Many of the nearby towns owed their active traditions of worshipping Icadion to the Monks of the Southern Light.
Erik was not particularly religious himself, but the monks were kind and welcoming to him. What he liked best was their silent courage. It was Shermin, a short, bald monk in his forties, who had first figured out Erik’s true nature. When he announced it to the others, they had all gathered around him as if they were meeting someone they had been waiting for a very long time. Although each of them would later try to get more information out of Erik about his nature, as Nolan had the previous night, none of them seemed to shrink away from him in fear. It was refreshing to be around people with minds open enough to accept all kinds of people without judgment.
He spent the entire day sitting upon the snow-covered mountain peak, staring out at the valley below. Winter had come early to the southern lands, but it was not gray and dreary as winter could sometimes be. The snow was crisp and pure, draping the land in a carpet of brilliant, sparkling crystals. The dusted trees and the wintry slopes on the mountain looked like something he would imagine for a snow elf realm, if there were such things. His sword was lying next to him as he silently watched an eagle soar through the air, scavenging for whatever it could find.
There was a mighty river that was born from a spring in the mountains just a ways off to the east. The raptor would likely find food there if it couldn’t find a southern snow hare first.
He thought about joining the eagle in flight.
He loved flying.
The sensation of total and complete freedom was unlike anything he had ever felt. Throughout his journey he had been careful to shift forms only when he was sure others weren’t watching. A flying dragon was sure to draw any nearby orcs. How those people loved their battles, and dragons were among their favorite foes. The humans of the south were not like those back home in the Middle Kingdom either. They were frail and skittish. Even looking upon him with just his armor and weapons in his human form was enough to set off alarms in most villages near here.
In addition to not wanting to startle the locals, Erik took special care to avoid his dragon form in settled areas because whenever he was in his dragon form, a strange desire would creep up on him from the deepest recesses of his soul. He couldn’t be sure why, but when he saw the masses fleeing or running, there was a small part of him that almost wanted to give them the battle they so feared. Whether it was a product of the dragon blood running through his veins, or perhaps a darker taint painted upon his soul, he couldn’t be sure.
There was a beast somewhere inside him that he couldn’t explain.
As he sat upon the mountain, looking down and trying to calm his inner self, he thought about the conversation he had had with Nolan after the nightmare. He was thankful that the young monk hadn’t pressed for more information about Erik’s sahale side. Erik was not fond of discussing that part of his lineage. It was more than a little disconcerting to the young warrior that his father was Dremathor, a shadowfiend with latent sahale blood, and his grandfather was Allun Rha, the grand wizard who had created the only magic powerful enough to ensure victory at the Battle of Hamath Valley. Allun Rha was a hero to most people in the Middle Kingdom, but Erik had gotten an intimate look at the repercussions of the magic created by his grandfather. While Tu’luh the Red and Nagar created a curse
that would use the inherent evil within a creature to turn them into mindless drones, Allun Rha had only been able to overcome Tu’luh by using a similar approach. The Illumination, the book containing Allun Rha’s spell, essentially created his own slave army to combat Tu’luh the Red by reaching into a creature and manipulating their desires for good until they, like Tu’luh’s slaves, obeyed Allun Rha completely. The idea that anyone related to Erik could so callously melt the minds of so many, and create soul-bound drones to fight for him was mind boggling. Erik had spent the years of that war fighting to help others, and even now felt guilty just for having used the remainder of Allun Rha’s army to fight in the final battle. Trying to imagine actually being the one to enslave people in such a way… well that made Erik sick to his stomach.
Mostly.
There was also another part of him, a part that he was trying to quash in his meditations and his never-ending wanderings that saw the logic to the method. Those who had been enslaved and used to create Allun Rha’s Golden Army would have died and succumbed to Nagar’s Blight. Perhaps their sacrifice was necessary. Expending a few hundred to save thousands almost appeared as an intelligent strategy to the young warrior. Morality was not an easy question in the face of such overwhelming odds. Erik knew this, but it was the fact that a part of him, no matter how small that part was, actually liked the strategy that caused him to question himself.
Perhaps Allun Rha had been more tainted than even he realized. When visiting the old wizard in his tower, Erik had noticed certain… quirks. It was obvious that everything involved in the events leading up to the Battle of Hamath Valley had left a blight on Allun Rha’s character. Perhaps it went deeper than that though. After all, Erik’s biological father was known to the world as Dremathor, a ruthless, conniving shadowfiend who had been as brutal as any other Erik had ever heard of. Perhaps there was a genetic predisposition for evil in his heritage. Or, maybe it was something in the dragon blood that, when mixed with the blood of a human, created something strange and dark.