(Dragonkin) Dragon Rider (2 page)

   The road continued in a straight line for the next several days, as Menimeth made his way east along it. The tall golden trees that he had grown accustomed to seeing, soon gave way to the smaller, and more densely packed, Oak, Elm, and Pecan. Other types of trees, which he had not seen before, grew here and there, and the underbrush was much thicker now. Hills began to appear in the distance, and by the end of the seventh day, the road began to twist and turn, as it made its way east.

   That night as he slept, he dreamed he was flying over herds of small deer as they raced along the ground, and he could smell them below as he passed. He was dancing through the sky with ease, and the wind on his face was crisp and cool, in the morning sun. He soon came to a mountain that looked out of place, and much different than the flatter land in which it was located. It was much taller than the hills around it, and the sides were steep, and barren of any foliage. The top was flat on one side, and a castle stood in the center of that plateau with towers gleaming in the sunlight. The other side of the mountaintop had a conical shaped peak, which rose high above the castle, and was doted with the entrances to many caves. When Menimeth awoke the next morning, the dream was fresh in his mind. It seemed so real it was hard to believe it was a dream at all, and the voice in his mind grew louder.

   That day as he rode, he came across the tracks in the road. They crossed from north to south, coming out of the forest, and returning to it on the other side. They were only a few days old, and made by shod horses, at least three of them as far as he could tell. Two hours later, another set of hoof prints appeared on the road going the same way as the first, but this time there were only two riders, and the tracks vanished once again in the forest on the other side. It was late in the afternoon when he noticed them again, and this time, all five riders appeared at the same time. They followed the road now, in the same direction as Menimeth, and looked to be only two days old, if that.

   The rain fell slowly at first, as the light faded from the sky, growing stronger as the evening progressed. The cave, when he found it, was large enough for Donner and himself, and they fit comfortably inside. He stumbled on it by chance when he left the road to search for a suitable campsite, far enough from the road to be concealed. The entrance to the cave was in a wall of stone at the base of a short cliff, that was the height of three men.

   Inside, there was a natural chimney to one side, and the remains of a fire below it. There was wood enough for several days stacked in the back, and a stall for his horse beside the entrance. The remains of the fire, as well as everything else were very old, and had been here a long time. Someone used this place often in the past by the looks of it, but not recently.

   "It would be wise to remember this place," he thought. "If only for the return trip."

   It was two days before the rain let up enough to travel, and the sky was gray with clouds, as Donner once again walked the road, east. There was nothing left of the tracks that were here just days ago, but he had seen them clearly, and thought about them as he rode.

   As the day wore on, the rain returned intermittently. Not as heavy as in the days before, but enough to decrease his visibility by half, and slow down his progress. The feeling when it came, made the hair stand up on the back of his neck, and Donner stopped abruptly, turning his head to the side.

   "Time to get off the road, I think." He said to Donner in a quiet voice. "Trouble is waiting for us, up ahead."

   The light faded slowly as he made his way through the trees. He could hear the sound of horses on stone now, but it was coming from the wrong direction. Urging Donner forward, the crossroads became visible within moments, and they halted just inside the tree line. Three riders were approaching from the south, and were talking quietly to one another as they drew nearer. They dressed like simple farmers, and they had no armor, and even the weapons they carried were old and worn. Before the riders could reach the crossroads, four men appeared from the trees on the other side of the road from Menimeth, and formed a line across it.

   "Where do you think you're going?" The apparent leader said, as he stepped forward from the others. "This is our road, and if you want to use it, you will have to pay a toll."

   Menimeth scanned the trees for the fifth man, and spotted him behind the three riders. He held a bow, and had an arrow notched, ready to fire at the unsuspecting travelers.

   "Thieves and murders were what these men were, and deserved what was coming." He said to himself.

   The bow Menimeth carried was Elvin made, and the strongest that he had ever seen. He raised it slowly, taking careful aim at his target, and let go. His arrow caught the bowman in the chest with great force, lifting him off his feet, and throwing him backwards, dead before he hit the ground. Pulling his weapons free of their sheaths, he let out a yell, and with a sword in each hand, Menimeth attacked the killers on the road.

Chapter Two

   Brylen camped closer to the lake that night than usual. It was not safe to be this close to the shore, but the soldiers had been patrolling farther in lately, and he did not want to be caught by them. Keeping out of sight of the soldiers as they patrolled the area*****, was difficult at best. Hunting for game along the way as he traveled, was even harder. Several times in the last six months, he was almost discovered by the patrols. Once, as he was tracking a deer he managed to shoot with an arrow, he was forced to crawl under the thorny brush to escape detection. The deer he shot, had run into the middle of a patrol before dying, and startled them. A soldier came within feet of his hiding place as he hunted for the owner of the arrow, thrusting his sword into the brush as he searched. It was hours before they moved on, and he could come out of his hiding place beneath the thorns. With his supper no longer available, and the soldiers alerted to his presence, he fled the area as fast as possible without leaving a trail that could be followed. That had been weeks ago, and he was far away from there now, but it was still not safe.

   The next morning, he was up and moving before the first rays of light reached him. Keeping to the trees as much as possible, he watched for patrols as he traveled west. The Shimmering Mountains had been growing larger the last few days, and were now much closer than before. The mountains were shrouded in a mist as they dominated the horizon, and he looked at their lonely peaks rising in the distance, like purple fingers pointing to the sky. They were a grand sight to see to any one at any time, but they were foreboding to Brylen now.

   The ground began rising as the day wore on, and the trees disappeared altogether. Forcing him closer and closer to the lake with the passing of every mile, the terrain grew steeper, and he was soon at the waters edge. By mid day, Brylen was barely able to walk along the lake at all. The reeds and brush that grew there were hard to get through, and the ground to his right became steeper and steeper, until he could barely keep his feet dry.

   The boat when he found it was well hidden, and if he had not tripped over the rope that tethered it to the shore, he would have walked on passed it, and missed it altogether. The boat was upside down and covered with reeds in a way that made it blend in with its surroundings, becoming invisible. The oars were wedged under the seats, so Brylen flipped the boat over, and pushed it out into the lake. Jumping in, he removed the oars from where he had found them and began rowing along the shoreline, far enough out to keep from running aground.

   Killing the occasional rabbit from the boat that day, he stopped anywhere along the way where the hills receded enough to build a fire and cook it. During the next five days, the lakeshore bent more and more to the south as he made his way along it, and occasionally he came across a clearing cut into the hills, where he found deer and antelope grazing that he could kill. However, the land began to change quickly, and it was not long before the mountains came right up to the lake, ending in great jagged cliffs that towered above him. There was no place to hunt here, and nowhere to stop and rest for the night as he floated along beside the great wall of stone. He was headed straight south, and over the next three days, was forced to eat the cold meats he had managed to smoke when game had been available.

   The cliffs ended during the night as Brylen moved farther to the south, and to his surprise, were nowhere to be seen the next morning. Instead, he found himself entering a quiet little cove, surrounded by tree-clad mountains on all sides. The entrance was relatively narrow, but allowed easy access for much larger boats than the one he now used. Inside the cove were golden trees, which grew between the sandy beach, and the base of the mountains. Deer and antelope walked among them as they grazed, and vines full of berries were in abundance as well. A small island sat at the far end of the oval shaped cove, and the statue of a dragon grew larger as he drew nearer to it. The morning mist sat on the calm water, like a veil in the cold gray light. It parted as the small boat entered into it, only to return again as it passed.

   Brylen pulled the small boat that had been his salvation, and his home for the last ten days, onto the bank of the island when he reached it. The statue of the great stone beast sat in the center of the island, and faced the mainland not far away. A stone tablet sat on a stand made of marble in front of the statue, and it caught his eye. Runes were carved in the marble around the edges of the stand, and words were written on the tablet as well, but he could not read them. A path of polished marble led away from the stand, and down to the waters edge. The statue had been very old, as well as the stone tablet, when the path and stand were built. The causeway that crossed the short distance to the mainland was made of stone also, and was just as old as the tablet and statue. It stood just above the surface of the water, and it ended in another marble path after reaching the other side.

   Brylen copied down the words contained on the stone tablet in his journal. The language was strange, and written in a flowing script of a kind he had never seen before, and somehow they seemed important to him, but he did not know why he thought so. He was no scholar, though he had spent most of his time helping his father who was the king of Davinly far to the east, but that did not change the way he felt. He was glad to be away from the forces of Arnoran, but there was something about this cove that seemed out of place. In all his life, he had never seen a place that was equal to the beauty of the cove, and the island where he now stood. It seemed to exist in a world all its own, keeping out the evil that spread across the land.

   Grass walkways encircled the statue, in three equally spaced, rings. Others ran from the first ring to the last, intersecting the second at regular intervals around the island. Stone benches were placed in the beds of flowers of a kind unfamiliar to him, in various locations through out the, 'Garden of the Dragon,' as he came to call it. He walked around the garden for most of the morning, looking at the flowers, and ornately carved benches of stone it held.

   When the sun was high overhead, Brylen left the island behind, and crossed the causeway to the mainland. He walked along the marble footpath as it made its way beneath the golden trees, to a place where it split into two separate paths that were the same size as the one he now walked. A ring of stones that marked the remains of past fires, sat off to one side, and beside a small spring fed, pool of clear water. He killed a deer, and then skinned it, before setting up his camp. This was the first place in more than half of a year, where he could build a fire and rest without the fear of being caught by the patrols. He would spend a few days here, and build up some supplies, before moving on.

   He missed his friends and family back home, but he knew they were not there anymore. Those that were not killed in the raids, or taken as slaves, were conscripted into the army to fight for Kath, and the mage king. Arnoran had awakened after five hundred years of magical slumber, and began to take back the lands he had controlled before his defeat at the hands of the dragon riders, so long ago. All of the lands to the north and east, between the lake of Kathirem and the Wandering Mountains were in his hands, as well as most of the lands to the southeast.

   A week passed before Brylen packed his belongings in his newly made, backpack, along with the dried venison that he smoked for the trip. He dried the skins of the deer that he killed, and tanned them to make them soft. After bleaching the leather in the sun until it was almost white, he cut it into several different shapes. With the thin strips of the leather he cut with his skinning knife, he sewed the shapes together through holes he had punched along the sides of each shape. He added some leather straps through slits in the back of what became his new pack, and secured them in place with more of the thin strips. The flap in the front of the pack was kept closed by tying the thin strips that came from the bottom on each side, to the ones on the flap.

   It was late that morning, when Brylen finally walked from the spring, and the camp by the marble path. Just yards from the split in the path on his right, a stairway climbed up an out of the cove, and headed to the northwest. On the face of the stone of the first step, were several words written in what he thought to be the Elvin language, but he could not read them. The stairs were thin, and steep, but were crafted well, and were not worn.

   The path to his left, led to stairs leading up and out to the southwest. On the face of the first step of those stairs were the words, 'The way of man,' and they were wider, and a lot less steep. This was the way he chose to go in the end, though not because of the stairs, but because of the fewer peaks he saw in that direction. It was midday when he reached the top, and followed the trail as it wound around through the mountains. The rest of the day he made excellent time, as he went deeper and deeper into that rough, and harsh landscape. The light disappeared quickly, when the high peaks surrounded you as they did him, and the temperature dropped rapidly as it did. He found a good place to camp for the night, and built a fire to warm him, and cook his supper.

   When he woke the next morning, he added wood to the coals of his burned down fire, and lay there until he warmed up enough to cook some breakfast. As the sun peeked through the mountains, and the light streamed in, it began to warm up enough to travel. He gathered up his things, and put out the fire, before continuing his journey. Smaller trails, which led from the one he was on, began to appear as the morning passed, but he paid them very little attention. He had no idea where they led, or, why they were there, but it mattered little to him as he made his way west.

   The dwarf stood in the middle of the smaller path just feet from where Brylen walked, lost in his thoughts as he made his way west. The dwarf went unnoticed by him as he passed the smaller path, and Brylen almost fainted when the dwarf spoke.

   "Well now lad, were you going to pass me by without even a word of greeting to brighten my way." The dwarf said.

   Brylen froze in mid stride, and his knees began to shake, as he turned to the voice on the path. What he saw surprised him and calmed him at the same time. The dwarf was in full armor, and a large battle-ax was slung across his back. His braided beard was long, and reached almost to his knees when it was hanging down, but currently it was slung over the dwarfs shoulder. He was no more than four and a half foot tall, but he was very stout for his height. He was big for a dwarf, but Brylen did not know that, because he had never seen a dwarf before, and was mesmerized by him. Brylen was a full foot taller than the dwarf he faced, but at least fifty pounds less in weight. His hair was cut to shoulder length, while the dwarf's hair was almost to the ground. The lightly woven garments and leather boots that Brylen wore, were in stark contrast to the armor the dwarf was in. Brylen looked at the dwarf through bright blue eyes, while the dwarf regarded Brylen with deep brown ones. As dwarf and man looked each other over on the path in the Mountains, they were as different as night and day.

   "You don't look like a soldier of Arnoran" Brylen said at last.

   "Soldier of Arnoran, you say lad?" The dwarf replied, as he studied the man before him.

   "I will not return to fight for him, so you might as well get it over with." Brylen said.

   "Do not worry yourself lad. I have never known a dwarf that would serve that fool, but I do know some that would like to get their hands on him. My name is Donderan, and I am at your service." The dwarf said, bowing low before Brylen.

   "I am known as Brylen in my land, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance." Brylen replied.

   "Where is it you go, if I may be so bold, sir?" Donderan asked.

   "I don't know. I just want to escape the soldiers, and avoid being conscripted into the army. I will not fight for the man who enslaved my country"

   "You're in luck then, lad." Donderan said, as he turned and walked over to a boulder beside the trail.

   He retrieved a sack from behind it, and walked back to where Brylen stood.

   "You are within the realm of the dragon empire, and the forces of the mage king will not go unopposed on this ground." Donderan said.

   "I have never heard of the dragon empire before. Are there any dragons here?" Brylen ask, as he looked all around him, and up into the sky. Donderan was silent for a moment, and looked off to the southwest.

   "Well, no, not really. No one has seen one in a very long time, and I was just a lad myself when last I saw one. No you will not see a dragon

I am afraid young sir, but I wish that was not so."

   "I for one will be happy not to run into one along the way." Brylen said. "I am too young to be eaten."

   "Dragons do not eat people. In fact the very thought of it would offend them." Donderan said. "Though killing men is another matter all together."

   "It does not matter if he eats you or not." Brylen said. "Dead is dead."

   "That it is, lad, that it is." Donderan said with a laugh, and slapped Brylen on the back before starting off down the trail.

   "You have a lot to learn about dragons my friend, and I will take you to the best place to do that."

   "Where is that?" Brylen asked.

   "Glansford."

   It was the only reply that he received from the dwarf, and Brylen wondered what it meant.

   Within a mile of where the two met, the trail split into three separate directions. One of the trails turned north and began to climb, while another continued west, but the third turned south and began its descent out of the mountains. Donderan took this trail, and Brylen followed along behind him. They walked for several miles before Donderan turned from the trail they were on, and followed a faint path that led off to the left. It curved around a large boulder, which sat against the side of the mountain on a kind of ledge, and disappeared on the other side. As they walked around the boulder, a small glade opened in front of them. A spring flowed from the wall at the back into a small pool, before disappearing underground again. A camp was set up beside the pool, and wood was stacked close to the stone ring that was the campfire. A pony and two horses grazed on the grass of the glade, and a forge had been built against the wall beside the spring.