Erik And The Dragon ( Book 4) (8 page)

“I apologize for the wolf,” Ferishe said. He glanced back to the furs. “I didn’t have the time I needed to clean all of my catch before I started my journey. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

“No trouble,” Arkyn said as she sat cross legged in the dirt nearby. “We are even
, so long as I get a cup of coffee.”

Ferishe nodded and bent over the pot to sniff the aroma. “Just a few more minutes,” he said.

“You were in a hurry?” Al asked. “Why is that?”

Ferishe snorted and pulled back from the coffee pot. “Tarthun scouts,” he said. “I spotted a few of them along a river that I lay my traps near. I usually work in the mountains to the east. I trap mink, beaver, and anything else the fancy ladies desire to make coats out of.”

“Were you in the wilds?” Al asked.

Ferishe shook his head. “No, that’s why I left. As soon as I saw the Tarthuns coming over the border to the Middle Kingdom, I high tailed it out of there faster than a spooked doe in spring.” He pointed to his mules. “That’s why I didn’t clean my catch as well as I should have. I just grabbed what I could and fled.”

“How many did you see?” Lady Arkyn asked.

“Well, I didn’t
see
any of them,” he replied with a shrug.

“Then how do you know they were Tarthuns,” Al asked. “Could have just been rival trappers.”

Ferishe shook his head emphatically. “No.” He gathered his arms around his knees and dropped his head low as he looked into the flames. “There is a village in the mountains, well, a trading post really, but there are folks who live there. Or, at least there were folks who lived there,” he said. “I came through to buy another steel trap. One of mine had rusted out beyond repair and the springs were broke. When I arrived, there was nothing left of the town. Doc Hamm’s body was lying in the street in front of his burnt shop. Spears in the ground had severed heads set upon them near the town’s entrance. Darmond, the butcher, was stuffed full of arrows like a pin cushion. His wife and their children were gone. The divines only know what happened to them.” He stared silently into the flames for a while.

“Did anyone survive?” Lady Arkyn coaxed.

Ferishe slowly shook his head. “I found a hatchet, buried deep in Migorun’s chest. He was the post commander. He used to be an officer in the army. Retired now, of course. Came out to the trading post town to help with security.” Ferishe shrugged. “The only real problems the town ever faced before was from the odd bear here and there, or perhaps some goblin scout foolish enough to leave its cave in the wilds in search of greener pastures, as it were. They never saw the likes of Tarthuns before though. Migorun and his sons were no match for them. Hard to say how many came through the town, or where they went, but they left no one alive. If anyone did survive, I am not for knowing their fate, nor would I want to dwell on what the Tarthuns might do to any slaves they took.” He sighed heavily and leaned forward again.

“The coffee is ready,” he said, his voice cracking midsentence.

“So where are you going now?” Al asked, trying to change the subject.

“To Drakei Glazei,” Ferishe replied. “Try to sell off my furs and then move farther west. There is some good trapping to be had in some of the forests. Not as good as the mountains, but likely safer.”

“We have heard of Tarthuns coming from the north as well,” Arkyn said.

Ferishe nodded. “They are like wolves,” he said. “They smell blood in the Middle Kingdom and are coming to scavenge us.”

“What do you mean?” Al asked.

Ferishe poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Lady Arkyn. “It’s hot,” he cautioned. Then he turned back to Al. “Even at the trading post we heard the news about the senate,” he said. “We also heard about the different nobles fighting each other and squabbling over the throne like a pack of dogs over a soup bone. I knew it wouldn’t take long for news like that to travel out to the Tarthuns. A divided kingdom rich for the taking, if you have the muscle for it.”

Al nodded his head. “They won’t be able to come over the mountains in large numbers,” he said.

“Why not?” Ferishe countered. “The pass in the north is not the only one, nor is it the best.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Arkyn asked.

Al spoke up. “The
southern pass would go through Hamath Valley. The elves would not easily let Tarthuns through there. Tualdern would have to fall first. Besides, I hear there are others not so keen on the Tarthuns that live in the southern wilds. The only logical pass is the northern pass.”

Ferishe shook his head. “Maybe a few years ago, sure,” he said. “Not so anymore.”

Al looked at him quizzically. “I am a dwarf of Roegudok Hall, I know of no other pass through the mountains.”

“The dwarves have not been as vigilant in the last few years as they have been in the past,” Ferishe countered. “There is another pass, albeit half of the pass is actually a cave. It was discovered about four or five years ago now, after the spring thaw was followed by heavy rains and numerous flash floods that poured through the mountains. The trading town I spoke of was nearly washed away then. I know, I was there. I went up with Migorun to scout the area. We didn’t expect much, but we found that
a new stream had sprung up, joining the river near the town. So, naturally we followed the stream to its source. The water snaked through the forest for miles. It was slow going at first. The ground was so wet and soggy that our boots were barely able to keep their traction. In a few places we sunk down to our knees. Eventually we found a sheer cliff. At the base there was a huge pile of shale and dirt. As we drew closer to it, we realized that a large section of the mountainside had simply fallen away. The stream was coursing out from a cave at the base of this cliff, pushing the shale and dirt out.

“The opening was huge. About seven feet high but at least four times as wide. We went into the cave and spent hours walking deeper into the mountain. The stream inside was shallow there, maybe only a few inches deep, but it was spread out over a large bed of smooth granite. The tunnel was so long that it took us two day
s to reach the other side. When we did, we saw an underground lake. No telling how deep it was. After walking four steps into the lake we fell deep into the pool and had to swim back.”

Lady Arkyn handed the empty cup back to Ferishe and he poured more coffee into it. The man first offered it to Arkyn, but she shook her head. Then he offered it to Al, who also refused. Ferishe shrugged and took a sip himself.

“Then what?” Al said. “Did you find an opening?”

Ferishe nodded. “We walked around the lake and found a large chute, with a steep, but not impassable incline. There was a stream of water
flowing down from there into the pool in the cave. We were able to hike up the chute on the left side of the stream where the ground was solid and dry. The chute was maybe two hundred yards long, and it opened out to the side of a mountain overlooking the wilds.”

“How big was the chute?” Lady Arkyn asked.

“Big enough,” Ferishe responded. “About eight feet high and perhaps fifteen feet wide, not counting the stream.”

“Where was the water coming from?” Al asked.

Ferishe nodded knowingly. “There was a taller mountain butted up against the one the chute was in, and the stream came from there. It looked to be a very old stream, not just one that runs during the thaw, but one that runs continuously.”

“But certainly the thaw and the rains could have enlarged the stream,” Lady Arkyn said.

“That was our thought as well,” Ferishe agreed. “After time the pool overflowed its bounds so heavily that it broke through on our side of the mountains and flooded our town until the water pressure was relieved.”

“So,” Al said grimly. “We have a new pass.”

Ferishe nodded. “And they have already used it to scout out our side of the mountains,” Ferishe said.

“If the Tarthuns come from an unknown pass, it could be disastrous,” Lady Arkyn said.

Al nodded. “Especially if they have drawn the Lievonian Order to the north.”

“Too bad the dwarves no longer come out of their hole,” Ferishe commented. Then he double thought and put a hand up while he nodded sheepishly to Al. “No offense,” he offered.

Al sniggered. “No,” he said. “It’s a good idea.” Al walked over and nudged Gorin with his foot. “Get up, giant, we have work to do!”

Gorin snorted and snapped u
p, rubbing his eyes. “What?!” Gorin grumbled.

Tu’luh’s wings ached with each beat of the cold wind. Sulfur and ash filled his nostrils and the air grew thick with dark clouds and pillars of smoke. The great beast swooped down low, veering left and narrowly avoiding a jagged, obsidian peak that jutted up spearing the sky. As he broke down below the blanket of smoke he breathed in deep. A feeling of warmth overcame him as he looked down and spied the familiar river of lava that coursed through Verishtahng.

He stretched his wings out, soaring over the lava and gliding along, mimicking its curves. The black and brown earth below vented smoke and shot embers into the air around him. A few of the hot speck
s collided with him, sparking wildly as they shattered against his scales.

A pair of wyverns squealed below as they caught his approach. The pair scattered off to the south, dropping the ridgebacked mouse they had managed to catch. Tu’luh hung his left foreleg down and scooped the ridgebacked mouse up in its claw and then flipped it up into the air and snapped his jaws around the animal. It wasn’t nearly a large enough meal to sate his appetite. The ridgebacked mouse was only slightly smaller than the average house dog, with bony plates that jutted out over its spine and gave it its name. It would take scores of the creatures at a time to come close to filling Tu’luh’s stomach, but it had been so long since he had tasted of the beast that he could not pass up the opportunity to snatch the kill from the skulking wyverns. Had they not been so quick to escape, he might have eaten them too.

His stomach grumbled as though great boulders slid and ground against each other in his gut. His nostrils flared and he caught the scent of something much bigger. He turned to the north, abandoning the lava flow and ascending back to the clouds of smoke above. The smell of sulfur grew more intense as he neared a hot spring. Occasionally he would drop his head below the smoke to peer at the ground below. He saw a pair of gorlung beasts, but he passed them by. He was after much larger prey.

He flicked his tongue out into the air before him like a snake, tasting the humidity that hung in the air in the northern areas of Verishtahng. He knew he was close. The trumpeting sound of great animals blasting each other with water sounded from below and the great dragon dropped from the clouds like a mighty eagle. He pulled his wings in close, allowing the air to course by him as he aimed for the bull water mammoth bathing itself near the bank of the hot spring. A herd of ten cows surrounded the bull, with some calves hiding near their mother’s legs.

None of them noticed his stealthy approach until it was too late.

Tu’luh struck with his rear talons, piercing the bull through the back near the bull’s neck and driving it down into the water. The water mammoth gasp
ed and snorted as it was crushed down and Tu’luh created a massive splash of searing hot water. The nearby cows trumpeted their warning and started galloping away in all different directions, but Tu’luh was faster than all of them. He swept out with his massive tail and drove his spikes through a cow’s neck. The animal crumpled down, tripping over its trunk and head before Tu’luh leapt over her and took two more with his front talons. A blanket of fire poured out from his open mouth, catching several of the cows and dropping them on the burnt, crisp ground. He reached out like a snake and snatched another cow in his massive jaws, ripping her from the ground and shaking her violently to snap her spine. Blood coursed into his mouth and woke his hunger to new levels.

The dragon devoured the cow, bones and all in only a few bites and then he turned to the others. From the rest of the cows he ate only the legs and the massive flanks. Then he turned lazily and stalked toward the half submerged bull. He saw the gathering crocodiles, but they kept their distance, waiting patiently for the left overs. The massive beast twitched its tail above its head and then slammed
it down before it entered the hot spring for the bull water mammoth. He dropped his head down and ripped off the bull’s legs and then chewed on the bull’s side, tearing a few of the tender ribs free.

One of the crocodiles moved in quietly, but all it took was a warning snort from Tu’luh to send the croc slithering away.

When Tu’luh had his fill, he lumbered away from the spring and curled down on the ground. He watched lazily as the crocs made short work of the bull’s remains. There was enough food for them that only a couple bothered to emerge from the water and pick at the other carcasses on the ground. His hunger finally sated, he let his head rest on his foreleg and allowed himself the pleasure of a short nap near one of the many vents in the ground that would periodically thrust steam and smoke into the air.

The dragon didn’t wake again until he shivered reflexively against the cooling wind of dusk. He lifted his head to find several crocodiles s
leeping nearby, obviously appreciative of both the food and warmth he had brought them. Tu’luh slowly stood, his stomach hanging low with its load. He strained to stretch his wings. The movement spooked a couple of the crocs. They hissed and slid down the bank to splash into the hot water.

Tu’luh lurched up into the air, a little shaky at first, but soon he was flying back toward the west. He couldn’t fly as fast as he had been before, but at least he wouldn’t need to feed again for several days and he would be able to focus on the task at hand. He blinked his eyes and winced sharply as the lid scraped over his torn left eye. The orb had crusted over with blood and goop. He hissed and emitted a ball of flame as he thought about Erik.
I should have killed the boy when he first came to the temple.

At least the boy was still too young to realize his own power. That would give Tu’luh enough time to gather his army and strike, if he was quick. At least Gilifan had not failed with his task.

Just before the darkening horizon, a massive conical volcano rumbled and spewed lava up into the air. The sight pulled Tu’luh out of his thoughts and brought his attention back to the present.

Home, I am home. Demaverung, how I have missed you.
Tu’luh increased his speed until he reached the familiar landing two thirds up the volcano. He lighted upon the black granite and twirled around in place, surveying the land before him. Glowing embers rose into the darkening sky beneath the clouds of steam and smoke, like minute stars celebrating their king’s return.

Tu’luh curled his talons around the edge of the landing and let out a mighty, savage roar that shook the very ground and parted the clouds above him
. His thunderous voice echoed off the jagged rocks and through the crags that scarred the valley before the great volcano.

“The master has returned,” a subservient voice said from behind.

Tu’luh turned around to see a large, bald man emerging from the great cavern. He was dressed in brown robes, carrying a wooden staff made of thornwood and topped with a ruby the size of a man’s fist. “Takala,” Tu’luh greeted evenly. “I thought you would have died by now.”

The man nodded knowingly. “I have been able to prolong my life more than most,” Takala replied.

“What brought a shadowfiend of the Black Fang Council to my home?” Tu’luh growled.

Takala planted the butt of his staff on the ground in front of him. “We have been working with the Wyrms of Khaltoun,” Takala responded.

“All of you?” Tu’luh inquired skeptically.

Takala nodded. “All of us,” he said.

“Where are the others of your order?”

“I have been here for about thirty seven years,” Takala said. “My mate was here with me, but she was slain by a pack of gorlung beasts seven years ago. My brother, one of the best we had, was slain by a gang of orcish witch-hunters a few years before that.”

“It appears you have fallen on hard times,” Tu’luh noted.

Takala nodded. “But we are still strong.
There are five of us that remain. One lives in AghChyor, another is in Och’tunga, with the orcs, the fourth is in the east wilds, and the fifth is in Stonebrook.”

Tu’luh sneered. “In Stonebrook?” he repeated. “And he is ready to fulfill my commands?”

“She,” Takala corrected. “And, yes, she is ready for your command. You have only but to say the word and I will communicate with her.”

“Come inside with me,” Tu’luh ordered. “There is much we can discuss.” The dragon walked by the bowing bald man and into the cave. Rubies, garnets, and diamonds glittered and sparkled in the walls as he walked in. The hot, red light from the volcano’s core illuminated every inch of the stone cavern. The sulfuric, blistering air felt like a long lost friend as it enveloped his scaly body. Smaller tunnels branched out from the large cave he walked in, some closed off with iron doors and other left open in their natural state.

Each step he took vibrated the ground a bit, and doors started to open as men and women in black robes emerged from the smaller tunnels. Each of them was quick to drop to their knees as soon as they saw him.

“The Wyrms of Khaltoun,” Takala said. “The order has grown since my arrival.”

“You sound as though you wish to take credit for that,” Tu’luh commented.

“No, my lord,” Takala countered. “Simply informing you that the order has grown.”

“How many?” the dragon asked.

“There are five elders, who each preside over ten acolytes. The acolytes in turn oversee up to three initiates each. Those initiates deemed unworthy of the gifts the order has to offer are either sacrificed
or turned loose in the valley.”

“I suppose you have used that to your advantage?” Tu’luh asked.

Takala nodded. “I have absorbed the life force of a few, but only if the elders all permit it. If they vote against it, then I stand aside and let them deal with the less worthy how they see fit.”

“How often do the elders communicate with Gilifan?” Tu’luh asked. He knew the answer, but he liked drilling his sub
jects for information. He felt it helped reinforce his command status and authority.

“Every ten days, without fail, and on any occasion when Master Gilifan makes contact for special circumstances.”

Tu’luh nodded. I will retire to my chamber, send the elders in to me there.”

“As you wish,” Takala replied.

Tu’luh stopped abruptly. “I will have some of the acolytes accompany you tomorrow into the valley. I have already sent out my call, but it will be good to send you to personally round up my subjects.”

“You have only but to say the word, I stand ready at any moment.” Takala bowed and then disappeared into a tunnel to the left through a heavy iron door.

Tu’luh then continued through the winding tunnel until it opened into the large chamber he had grown to love after his exile from the Middle Kingdom. He stopped just inside and listened with his eyes closed. The piles of gold and diamonds in the far corner hummed and sang a music that only he could hear. He rushed forward and smoothed out his treasure before laying in it and wallowing in the pure bliss the precious objects brought him. He snuggled his muzzle into the gold coins and breathed in the sweet, metallic smell and let himself drift into a half-nap before he heard the pitter patter of several feet strolling toward him.

He opened his eyes to see five men with long, grey beards hanging low from their cowls. The black backgrounds of their cloaks reflected the
warm, vibrant light of the lava chute on the far side of the chamber while the white fronts of their robes shimmered and took on orange hues.

“I always thought the tales of a dragon’s love for gold was exaggerated,” one of the elders commented wryly.

Tu’luh sighed and drew his neck up from the gold. “It is something lesser minds would not understand,” Tu’luh rebuked.

“I meant no disrespect, master,” the man said with a humble bow of his head.

“Everything in the world has innate intelligence,” Tu’luh said. “The grass hums low, bending under the groaning wind. Rocks grumble and moan. Rivers roar far louder than human ears can discern, but the sweetest sound of all comes from gold and gems. It not only pleases the dragons, but it helps us heal. The music is food for our weary souls, and is the essence of life itself. You humans would waste it by beating gold into coins, but we dragons understand its true purpose.”

“Thank you for the enlightenment,” the elder said quickly.

Tu’luh knew the man wasn’t really thankful. He was just being patronizing. The only thing the Wyrms of Khaltoun cared about was acquiring Nagar’s Secret. It was precisely this reason that constrained Tu’luh from explaining the true power that precious metal and stones held within. That was a special knowledge, reserved for only the Ancients and the gods themselves. However, the dragon was willing to suffer the humans’ petty greed and wanton ignorance so long as they served him and his purposes.

“Does Salarion live?” Tu’luh asked, changing the subject.

The five elders turned to themselves briefly and then back to the dragon.

“She does, my lord,” one of them said.

“Where is she?” the dragon inquired.

“We don’t know where she is at this time,” the elder replied.

“Then how do you know she lives?” Tu’luh countered. He narrowed his right eye on the man and he shrank away from the dragon’s gaze. “I have a war to fight. I shall need her here. Send for her and tell her to come to Demaverung.”