The Dragon Rock

  Chapter 10. Elf king

  The path arched through the scattered woods awake with the breath of spring, through fields and meadows filled with small flowers, leading the two travellers toward the uncertain future. Light breeze was coming from the north, drying the sweat on their faces. Arios was certain that he felt the scent of burning and battlefield, but he attributed that feeling to his active imagination.

  It was a desolated landscape, and few farms they came across showed no signs of life; it seemed like all people were hiding, in expectation of a storm. And the storm was gathering in the northern darkness, waiting to grow strong enough and to roll over the land of these peaceful people, destroying everything, dragging the world down into a grey vortex. The ominous clouds in the distance whirled in the sky, enormous, wild, blocking the view at Dragon Rock. The reflection of the setting sun on their steel-coloured wet greyness gave the landscape an unusual, frightening beauty, filling the travellers with awe and wonder for the forces of nature, fascinating even when foreboding darkness and horror.

  “It seems like all the demons from the hell are playing with the clouds!” Orin couldn’t but comment the awesome sight.

  “Believe me, all the demons from hell will be there, walking the land freely,” said Arios. “Great is the power that summons them. No one could stand against it.”

  “Unless we reach the Rock.” Orin’s voice was steady. “Maybe it’s the only hope.”

  “Maybe your hope’s nothing but common delusion,” said Arios gloomily. “It seems we’ll never make that journey.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.” The prince did not like the sorcerer being so feeble hearted, but he felt it was not a time for arguing. They needed to think about the way ahead, which was growing more dangerous every day.

  They walked on for four days, travelling the dusty road, sleeping in the improvised shelters, meeting more and more refugees from the north. Those people didn’t think much about where they were going, only if it was far enough from the war. The eyes of the children were brimming with tears, witnessing all the horrors of the night that adults used to scare them with suddenly came alive. The only topic of the tavern talks was the war. King Seton gathered an army for defence of Ledonia, but refugees from the north didn’t believe it can stop the demon legion under command of the Lord of Doom. Horrible stories were told in the flickering lights of the hearth fires - flying demons butchering people and drinking their blood, huge black monsters destroying villages, devouring everything alive, people turning against each other in madness, wild warriors on fast horses attacking the refugees. In several places where few bold men decided to show some resistance to the legions, the battlefields soon became places of slaughter. A silhouette in black armour mounted on an enormous war stallion could be seen near those battlefields, uttering dark incantations, commanding the armies. Indeed, nothing could stop the storm.

  Orin and Arios silently listened to people attempting to turn them away from their way to the north.

  “Only a madman could have a wish to go there”, the villagers said, shaking their heads, giving up on what they thought to be lost souls.

  Still, they continued, driven on by despair and resignation rather than hope. They were determined to reach the King’s fortified city, and then decide what to do.

  “To get there, you must go through the forest,” an innkeeper said to them. “But beware, that forest was said to be a weird place. I’m telling you, strange things used to happen to the careless people. Devil’s business, I think, but they don’t believe me, no sir, there’s always some smart guy who thinks I’m lying, I’m telling stories, but I’m telling you, such guys come to a sorry end...”

  He wiped their table with the filthy cloth and lowered his bulk on the wooden chair, which made a squeaking sound.

  “We were careful till now, chief,” Orin interrupted him, “we’ll try to stay alert.”

  “Yes, be careful, gentlemen and I’m telling you, don’t leave the road, strange things happen...”

  The evening came, and the room was getting darker. Over the hearth fire, a skewered kid was roasting. Several people at the neighbouring table talked quietly, looking at them from time to time.

  “You just take care of our dinner,” said Orin to the innkeeper. “I could eat whole goat.”

  “Right now, gentlemen,” said the innkeeper rising from the chair. In that moment, the dog that was lying quietly near the fire jumped and barked wildly. The inn went silent. Then, the doors were pushed roughly, and five men entered the room. Looking around, they chose a table and settled themselves around it. They looked like people who were on the road a long time without rest. Their faces were bearded, their hair black, long and filthy, and deeply set eyes darted glances at the other people. They were dressed in the shabby leather suits whose stench was even stronger than the smoke which filled the room. They carried broad, huge knives at their belts, and also some sickle-like blades, and the man who looked like the leader carried heavy war axe, obviously worn out with use. But it was not the main thing that attracted the attention of other people. The stitches of their coats and trousers were ornamented with long locks of human hair, probably women’s. The leader had a necklace around his neck, made from mummified human fingers and ears.

  The dog growled quietly, retreating to the other side of the room. For one moment, only the cracking of the firewood could be heard. Then the leader broke the silence with deep, hoarse voice, not loud, but threatening.

  “Innkeeper, bring us the best you have! And mind you, that goat will not be enough!”

  The frightened innkeeper tried to protest: “Gentlemen, you will wait a while, these, er, good people came before and... woman! Bring more meat!... excuse me, but...”

  “One more unnecessary word and you will never talk again,” said the leader of the group. The man beside him pulled out his knife. The fat man’s face was covered with sweat. For the moment, it seemed he’ll back out, but his pride was hurt and it overcame the fear. “You can’t do this, gentleman,” said he, stuttering, “my house has rules and...”

  Arios and Orin exchanged looks. It was clear that the innkeeper’s rebellion will not be forgiven. The man misjudged the situation, or had too much confidence in the other guests. In his life, the prince has spent many a night in the similar town inns and he saw enough of the bullies. Their behaviour was easy to predict. If no one stood in his defence, the innkeeper was about to receive a lesson he will not forget.

  From behind the back door, an older plump woman appeared, her face twisted with fear. The guests sitting at the near table turned to the gang.

  The leader of the gang rose slowly from his chair. “When a slave refuses the will of the master, “ said he in the same quiet, threatening voice, “there’s no other choice.”

  The innkeeper tried to step back.

  “Now...” whispered Arios.

  The brutality and the speed of what happened the next few moments petrified all the witnesses. Moving like a snake, the rogue pulled his knife from the belt and in the same, unbroken motion, buried it under the chin of the unfortunate man, piercing his jaws to the brain. The cracking of the bones, short gurgling sound, and the fall of the heavy body on the floor followed. The rogue leered maliciously, looking at the others. Then he kneeled to the body and took out the knife from the dead man’s head. Other brigands seemed ready to jump at anyone who moves.

  The murderer calmly wiped his weapon on his trousers and sheathed it back at the belt.

  “Gentlemen”, said he in a voice mocking that of the innkeeper, “I’m afraid you’ll soon get used to the swift executions of justice. A new time is coming, a time without mercy for disobedient slaves.”

  The innkeeper’s wife recovered from the first shock and, screaming loudly, ran to the lifeless body, but the rogue pushed her on the hearth fire. The barbecue fell, and the woman rolled from the fire, still screaming.

  It was the drop that spilled the glass for Orin.

&nbs
p; “Wait!” hissed the sorcerer, whose sense told him not to act, but it was too late. Pushing his chair aside, the prince unsheathed his long sword and cried something unintelligible. The nearest brigand jumped in front of his leader and the blade of the sword drove right in his temple. In the moment the lifeless body touched the ground, Orin retreated two steps, crouching in the fighting stance. The other four brigands rushed on him, shouting wildly. They averted their attention completely from the sorcerer at the table, which proved to be a fatal error. Arios extended his leg and the nearest brigand tripped over it. In a second, the sorcerer’s knee was on the man’s neck, breaking the spine. In the meantime, Orin’s sword put an end to another of the attackers. This stopped the leader and the other surviving brigand. “Let’s go!” he roared. “You’ll regret this, before three sunsets come to pass!”

  They ran out from the inn and disappeared in the dark.

  Orin was standing, breathing with effort. Sweat was streaming on his face. The stench of the blood filled the room. People were still sitting at the table, without a word. The innkeeper’s wife, burned only lightly, wailed over the dead body of her husband.

  Arios slowly rose from the floor. “This isn’t good,” said he.

  “I know,” said Orin, his breathing deeper. “We shouldn’t have let them run away. They weren’t alone, that’s for sure.”

  “Advance guard,” one of the guests spoke for the first time. “They are only advance guard. They’ll return with the reinforcements and level the whole village.”

  Arios looked at him. “You’re right.”

  “All of you should be fleeing this place. It seems the war got here before we thought it would.”

  “This was only a scouting party,” said Orin, cleaning his sword before he returned it in the scabbard.

  “It would be best if you go right now,” said the man. “They’ll look especially for you.”

  “We can’t go further in the dark. The forest is ahead,” said the sorcerer. “It would be even more dangerous. Best if we go early, before the dawn.”

  “You go straight through the forest,” said the man, rising. “Maybe they wouldn’t dare to go that way. The forest is rather strange, especially to some people,” said he mysteriously.

  “And I would like to say, I think, for all of us - what you did wasn’t very smart, but... it’s good someone showed them it won’t be as easy as they thought it would. We are peaceful people; we could never stand up against them. Thank you, gentlemen, no matter what happens after.”

  “It was our pleasure,” said Orin, “although it was over too soon”.

  “Ha!” said Arios. “It seems to me it would be more of it than you could desire. I’m not really looking forward to the near future.”

  “I’m not expecting you to,” answered Orin. “When will you show some optimism?”

  “I think we should go right now,” he continued. “They could return this night. I would if I were in their place.”

  “I’m too tired,” said Arios, “and you aren’t in much better shape. I think we should sleep for at least few hours. They are sure of themselves. I don’t think they’ll return so soon.”

  “What do you know about them? We don’t know who they are, how many men they have. All we know is that they are extremely dangerous. We better move off their way.” Orin felt a strong urge to leave this place. The need for sleep, however, was stronger. After a short arguing they decided to stay and rest for three hours, and then continue their journey through the forest.

  Arios was roused abruptly from his dreamless sleep, awaken by the stirring in the room. Orin was trying to defend himself from the several dark figures, so much he realized from the groaning, the curses, the strikes and the kicks which were exchanged. The sorcerer jumped to help his friend, but a brutal hit to the head stopped him. After that, there was only emptiness.

  This time, awakening was painful and difficult. First, he heard voices. Then he realized he was lying on the back of some big animal, which smelled unpleasantly, unusually, and whose moving was slow. His arms were tied tightly on his back, completely stiffened, so he couldn’t feel his hands. He opened his eyes. The first morning light was beginning to break through the dusk of the forest. A bird could be heard from time to time, high in the treetops. The fresh scent of the wet ground and leaves woke his senses completely. He managed to turn his head from the body of the animal, trying to see something.

  The column of about ten brigands mounted on their strange animals was moving silently along the narrow forest path. Looking upside down, it was hard to see clearly, but the creatures looked like some crossbreeds of the longhaired wolves and short mountain horses. Their great jaws were filled with long, sharp teeth, and the small, vicious eyes were covered with the long fur. The animals probably were equally useful for fighting as they were for riding. Their riders looked like the last night’s visitors in the inn - rough leather suits, filthy hair, armed to their teeth with blades and bludgeons. There was no doubt who their captors were.

  In front of Arios, the prince was in an equally uncomfortable position. He was also awake, and noticed the sorcerer was looking at him.

  “Good morning,” he uttered through his teeth. “Remind me never to listen to your advice again.”

  Arios shook his head helplessly.

  One of the brigands was walking beside the prisoners, and he noticed the conversation.

  “Silence!” hissed he, hitting Orin’s face with his fist.

  The party was following the path meandering through the forest, on their way north. No one was speaking. There was a strong feeling of tension in the air. They walked for a whole day, stopping shortly only for two times to eat and rest. The brigands listened to the sounds of the forest, trying to see through the semidarkness of the trees. The prisoners were left hanging on the backs of the animals for the whole time, and they didn’t give them any food.

  These people are afraid of something, both of them realized. That thought eased their suffering a little. They did not dare to think about the reasons which led their captors to spare them and take them along. The image of the unfortunate man-demon from the village was still too vivid in their minds.

  As soon as Arios woke, the brigands tied a cloth over his mouth. Somehow, they knew about the sorcerer’s powers. Of course, they couldn’t stop him from sensing the spiritual presence in the woods, probably the same that caused the feeling of unease among the brigands. It was ominous, threatening, but somehow deep and wide, like it emanated from the very roots of the enormous trees that towered over them. Besides, it filled him with a feeling of safety and peace, despite the hard situation in which he found himself. He was wondering if Orin could sense at least something of that “spirit of the forest”.

  There was another presence, but narrow and much smaller, evil and dangerous, connected with the brigands - like it was controlling their behaviour. Somewhere in the vicinity there is a black sorcerer, came the flash of realization. He is the real leader of these people, which would have torn us apart if they were alone. There is a great possibility we will become a gift for some of their demons.

  That thought caused a knot of fear in his stomach. We must run away, until it’s too late.

  It was clear that the brigands belonged to the army from the north. There probably were many raiding parties such as this, sent out to spread fear among the people, to burn and murder, making it easier for the rest of the legions to triumph over any army this land could raise.

  During the day, his consciousness wandered several times in the darkness, tortured by the pains he felt in his whole body. In those moments, the feeling of the spiritual presence was strongest, almost like that day in the mountain temple, when, fleeing from the demon, his spirit was lost in the unknown, and found a solace there.

  Be still, something was telling him, the moment is not here yet.

  When the evening came, he almost couldn’t feel his body any more, but the hope didn’t left him.

&n
bsp; Orin was enraged, mainly at himself, because he was captured so easy, almost without a fight, by these miserable excuses for human beings. The bruise on his face reminded him painfully, constantly, of its presence. After he got a punch, he had not tried to speak with the sorcerer again. He kept silence, gathering the hate inside, waiting for the opportunity to express it on their captors. But, of course, there was no such opportunity. They were riding almost without rest, the whole day, slowly and silently, like they did not want to rouse the forest. It was obvious that they felt unease, and it gave him courage. They needed to make their escape while still in these shades, or it would be too late. He had not had any doubt that they spared them because there was something much worse than the death awaiting them in the future. If only he could free his hands and reach the sword which hung from the belt of the gang leader...

  For now, however, he was able only to wait, suffering the pains, which were getting stronger.

  In the twilight, after some twenty hours of riding, the column finally stopped. The fatigue overwhelmed their need to get away from that place. They took down the equipment from the animals and built the campsite. The prisoners were brutally thrown down to the ground, still tied, still hungry and thirsty. No one thought about feeding them. For some time, the people were sitting in the circle, eating dried food, speaking quietly. They did not light a bonfire. The wolf-horses were lying around them, devouring the meat their masters were tossing them. From time to time, the brigands laughed maliciously, and someone would throw a look at the prisoners, which were lying behind.

  “How are you?” asked Orin quietly, and then remembered that sorcerer’s mouth is gagged.

  Arios mumbled something.

  “So, better than me, it seems,” stated the prince ironically.

  “I can’t get free,” continued Orin. “If only I could...”

  “Silence, slaves!” shouted the leader of the party. He rose and ran to the men lying on the ground. He was about to kick Orin in the head, but in that moment came a quiet, deep voice from the forest.

  “Stop! The prisoners must be alive!” Orin slowly raised his head to look at the place from which the voice came. In the darkness, nothing could be seen, but he could have sworn he could feel some evil presence, powerful and dark. The black sorcerer, a thought came.

  The dark shadow came near the brigands, which fell silent abruptly.

  “For the Ritual of the embodiment, the bodies must be alive!” hissed he, “Or I will use one of you!”

  The men bowed their heads, frightened. The sorcerer approached the prisoners. He was wearing a black cloak with the hood, under which his face couldn’t be seen, if there was a face at all.

  “Strong, strong bodies,” murmured he for himself. “Masters will be satisfied, very satisfied.” Orin’s fear blocked his ability to speak.

  Arios’ face was covered in sweat. From under the black hood, quiet, hissing sound came, hard breathing.

  In that moment, the sorcerer suddenly straightened himself in full height.

  “Wait! Danger!”

  In split second, men jumped, pulling out their weapons. There was a scream among them. One of the brigands fell on the ground, his legs twitching. The wolf-horses growled wildly, running to the woods. From the shadow, a swarm of glistening arrows came, burying in the bodies of the panicked brigands.

  “This is it!” thought Arios, although he was not so sure about what was happening, and who the invisible attackers were. He knew only that the salvation was finally here.

  The black sorcerer shouted several words of power into the night, followed by ritual gestures, but in the next moment, he was filled with arrows. He cried sharply, fell on the ground and stayed there, unmoving.

  The rest of the party was also dead. The howling of the animals stopped, too. The forest went silent again.

  Then, some invisible hands lifted the two friends up. They felt someone was carrying them with great speed, avoiding the big trees with unbelievable skill. They were not sure if they were still in their own reality, or their whole world turned to a landscape from a weird dream.

  The time flow stopped. They were standing free, without pains, in an enormous hall whose walls were giant trees, and the ceiling green treetops, and it was day, and gentle light filled every corner, coming from nowhere. A pleasant, quiet melody was played on some string instrument, or maybe a flute. It was hard to focus the attention to anything; the details were lost when they tried to look at them carefully. In the middle of the hall there was a high throne, or maybe just a common trunk of some old tree, and an unusual man was sitting on it.

  “This is elf land!”, a thought come to Arios, “The elves saved us!”

  The elven king raised his head slowly. His long face looked airy, pale, fragile and without wrinkles; but his eyes emanated firmness and wisdom of age. His clothes evaded any attempt to be defined, like all other things in this unearthly hall. On his head there was a shining ornament which made them difficult to see much more of the man’s face; or it seemed to be so. When he spoke, his voice sounded like it was coming from a great distance, yet it was clear and strong.

  “You come in this land like harbingers of evil times, strangers,” he said. “People didn’t stray into our forests, not without a great need. No one could hunt the wild animals and kill the trees without the permission of the elven people. Now, there are many who walk through our forests, not afraid of our laws. The legions from the north drove them here, they said. Their fear is stronger than the respect for our laws. They’re killing the trees thousands of years old. They’re stealing the very sources of our strength. They are driving us out from our realm. But, not long ago, a word came from the Upper Realms. A man will come, from far south. He’ll bring back hope for the dying land.”

  He sighed heavily.

  “My heart is old,” continued he, “but it’s still capable of hope. Maybe one of you is that man. Maybe not. It doesn’t matter. Our power reaches to the borders of these forests. Beyond them, we can’t help you. Our strength comes from the deepest roots of the trees, and exists as long as they’re alive.”

  Arios’ mind was full of questions, but he was not able to single out any of them from the confusion. Finally, he stuttered: “What are the Upper Realms?”

  The sound of his own voice, coming from distance, cold and alienated, surprised him. Orin was looking straight, his eyes focused, not seeing a thing. The sorcerer’s voice brought him back from trance.

  The elven king smiled sadly.

  “Long ago, our kind was often visiting the Upper Realms. We were strong; our thoughts carried us freely to the places most people cannot reach. The Upper Realms are a place where only one truth exists. Our world is but a copy of that world, pale imitation, and imperfect in its weakness. Those who still travel there are few. And for the mortals, it became unreachable a long time ago. But it doesn’t interest you; you are only desperate trespassers...” His head began to follow the rhythm of the melody which was filling the hall. Their music is sad beyond comprehension, thought Arios. They are disappearing.

  “My brother is losing his hope” a new voice spoke then.

  From behind the king, like out of the mist, a new figure appeared, tall, with long black hair and beard, wearing a black cloak. The strange elven feeling emanated from him, too, but Arios was somehow sure he was a human being.

  “But I know we still do have a choice,” said he. “We can wait peacefully for the darkness from the north to devour us, or face it and leave this world with dignity.”

  “Who are you?” asked Orin suddenly.

  “You are a warrior,” stated the man in black, not trying to answer Orin’s question. “I can read in your heart that you yearn for battles and glory. I’m offering you a chance to fulfil your wish - the greatest battle in the history of Ledonia, and glory which will last to the end of our world. Which will come much sooner than we would like, I’m afraid,” he smiled sadly, stepping forward.

  “The reward will
be worthy of a warrior – an honourable death in the battle against an enemy hundred times stronger and the impossible odds. Much better than that which awaits us if we try to skulk, that’s for sure. I’m offering you a place in the first ranks of the army of King Seton of Ledonia, in the battle against all the demons from hell coming from the north! Accept the offer if you’re a warrior!”

  The elven king was sitting unmoving, looking at the two friends.

  Silence descended on the forest-hall. The invisible musicians stopped their playing.

  “You are...?” started Orin.

  “Yes,” said the man in black, with sardonic smile, “I am Seton, the king of this land of peasants, half-brother of the King of Elves, commander of the Army Without Hope, a condemned man whose days are numbered, just as the days of the world are numbered.”

  “We search for the way to the Dragon Rock,” interrupted Arios, “maybe we’ll find salvation there. Maybe we’ll be more useful that way than with the sword in hand.”

  “Speak for yourself!” flared Orin, rather impressed by the king’s speech. “The Dragon Rock is but a dream! I was stupid when I thought I could reach it! It doesn’t even exist! It was an apparition, which served to bring me here! My real destiny lies in this war. I am Orin ar den Raamternan, son of Argen, king of the Plain Countries, only heir to the throne! I learned strategy from the best war leaders of the Plain Countries. Maybe we can prevail at the end!”

  “Oh, royal blood flows through the veins of our unusual visitor!” Seton smiled. “I must treat you with due respect. Your Majesty?” said he ironically.

  Orin didn’t have any comment on king’s jesting, and Seton became serious again.

  “If we were fighting an ordinary enemy, I would never give up the hope, no matter how much stronger he is. But, now...”

  “Doesn’t matter!” shouted the prince. “You can count on my sword, King Seton. And also on some abilities of my companion! He is maybe reluctant, and needs some persuasion, but I’m telling you, he’s a great sorcerer and his magic could help us to win!”

  From the moment Arios mentioned the Dragon Rock, the face of the elven king became thoughtful. When Orin finished with his speech, he silenced Seton with a wave of his hand, and spoke to Arios.

  “You’re searching for the Dragon Rock, you said? Maybe you are the one mentioned in the prophecy!”

  “I don’t feel so,” said Arios. “My powers aren’t so great, really. Besides, I don’t know what we are searching for, nor how do we get there. The Rock can be seen in the distance, higher than any other mountain, and eludes us from the beginning. In fact, we are completely lost.”

  “Do you know what the Dragon Rock is?” said the king.

  “It’s the border of the worlds. People can see it, but no one could find it. People usually don’t know where to find the things they are yearning for. They pursue their vision, thinking they’ll find it if they walk long enough, if they suffer enough. Why? Because they are expecting a reward for their efforts. They think they can buy power, glory, immortality - but the laws of human hearts don’t rule the Upper Realms. Those who find them learn that lesson.”

  “But, how do I get there, then?” asked Arios.

  “There are many ways,” answered the king, “and each man must find his own way. I cannot help you.”

  “Strange are the ways to the Upper Realms,” concluded Seton. “But, we proved to be inadequate hosts! We torture our guests with questions and riddles, without offering them any refreshment. Join us in our last feast!”

  The king waved his hand and suddenly, like in a dream, the hall was filled with long tables covered with best food, and elven folk gathered, drinking from golden cups, toasting each other and their king. The air was filled with music again, slender elven girls in white dresses were dancing magical dances, their feet not touching the ground, and everything was decorated with many-coloured flowers which grew from the tree-trunks, emanating sweet fragrances. The king was sitting on the throne in the middle of the hall, watching his court with sad eyes, while his half-brother, seated by his right side, emptied cup after cup of sweet wine.

  “My last feast!” he shouted. “I don’t want to be sober at its end!”

  The forest warriors, dressed in green and brown clothes, demonstrated their skill of shooting with bows and arrows, followed by the cheers of the audience. Orin and Arios watched in astonishment how slim arrows passed through columns of rings at the distance of dozens of feet, how they sliced the strawberries thrown in the air, and punctured through the thick oak boards. Then, seemingly from nowhere, came jugglers and acrobats, elven poets and bards, and it seemed to the two friends the feast will go on forever. For the moment, they forgot the dreary reality which waited for them out there, in the world, and they surrendered to the wine and the music, and their hearts were filled with strange joy.