The Dragon Rock
Chapter 6. Keol
Ten days passed since the strange encounter. Despite the snowdrifts and icy wind, the travellers finally succeeded to get through to the shelter of the forest. Thick pine trunks blocked the storm’s way in the realm of the half-darkness and tranquillity.
Over the days, they made their way slowly through the thin layer of snow, and during the nights they made shelters of the branches and goatskins. Exhausted constantly, they didn’t talk much. Besides, after the encounter with the elven girl, Arios was even more silent than before, looking at the wooden flute, trying to understand the meaning of the girl’s words. The girl certainly belonged to the high-born elves, which, according to legends, long time ago lived in this land and gave it life, populating it with animals and many other creatures, small spirits of the nature, guardians over everything that grows, runs and flies. High-born elven beings almost never showed themselves to the mortals, and the sorcerer didn’t know how he earned that privilege. Those few, who have seen them, old stories told, never did live the same life afterwards. But, it was many centuries ago. According to these stories, the elves went to some other world, and forgot completely about this land. Nobody even believed any more they really existed.
“My life’s changed, too,” thought Arios.
The memory of the encounter was still fresh in his mind, and kept him from thinking about the issues of everyday life.
Orin, on the other hand, didn’t know the reason for sorcerer’s further withdrawal, but he didn’t want to bother him in his contemplation. Another important thing he learned, which was not in accordance with his royal upbringing, was that people could not behave themselves all the time in the way other people wanted them to, and that these things one should accept the way they were.
They travelled very slowly through the shade of the gigantic trees. The forest was thick, and the snow hardly reached the ground. Most of the time, they moved separately - Arios carried supplies, while the prince wandered through the woods trying to catch something edible. The nights they spent in a half-dream, constantly feeding big campfires which kept the Longhaired wolves at distance. Their horrible howling, often in their vicinity, disturbed even the absent-minded sorcerer.
“One day,” Orin used to speak in those moments, “we’ll laugh remembering how we trembled with fear. When I find the Ring, everything will be different.”
Arios was silent most of the time, but even the usually non-perceptive prince felt that this silence isn’t a reflection of peace and tranquillity in sorcerer’s mind any more, but rather of chaos.
On the thirty-fifth day of wandering though the maze of the forest, the monotony of the journey finally ended.
A wild pig trotted on the small clearing at the same moment Orin drew the bowstring. The arrow whizzed and buried itself in the hind leg of the animal, which painfully roared, and ran limping back into the bush. Orin cursed and ran after it.
He had been following the pig for several hours already, getting more and more distant from their camp. It would be waste if it succeeded to run away now. He was running through the forest, following the cracking of dry branches. Suddenly, he found himself on another small clearing. The snow-covered meadow was cut in half by a stream. Swift current obviously resisted the winter’s attempt to enclose it in ice. Orin stopped in wonder, breathing deeply, while his own breath fogged his view. Beside the stream, a lonely figure was sitting and looking at the water. With his back turned to Orin, the man was surrounded with his equipment - animal skins, packs with supplies - obviously, a traveller. He had short, thick black hair, and was dressed in dark brown leather clothes. Near him lay a short, broad sword in black sheath, and another, at least four feet long, with a two-handed hilt, wrapped in tanned hide.
Orin stopped like frozen, without idea about what he should do.
“You won’t need your weapon,” said the man then. His voice was quiet, but contained some quality which didn’t allow the listener to go over his words easily. He was still looking at the stream, as if he decided that to turn around would be an unnecessary effort.
“Who are you?” asked Orin. The man was not surprised by prince’s appearance, nor did he show any fear of the armed stranger.
“Patience,” said the man. “First, lower your bow and sit down in our camp.”
“Our?” uttered Orin.
The man turned to face him. He had youthful, clean-shaven face covered with scars. He obviously was not stranger to the warfare, being mercenary or a soldier. Orin saw many like him in his life. But his eyes, different from the others’ of that kind, were sharp and vivid.
“My friends.” He pointed with his hand to the edge of meadow. Orin looked in that direction, but he couldn’t see a thing. “If we considered you an enemy, your bow wouldn’t be of much help to you.” Then he shouted something in some unknown language. Two figures separated from the shadows of the trees, one from the left, the other from the right, and approached to them, their strides light. They were about the same height, dressed in identical clothes which perfectly melted with the colour of the surrounding countryside, their hair braided. Their hands were empty.
A smile appeared on their faces, also similar. It was obvious they were twins.
“They are Nai and Saim, brother and sister from the tribe of the Hunters of the mountain lions. I am lucky to share my journey with them,” said the man.
“I am called Keol. I hope we’ll get to know your name.”
“My name is Orin” said the prince. It was not necessary for these people to know his identity, but his pride forced him to continue: “I’m a son of the king of Plain Countries, Argen Raamternan.” He instantly sensed this didn’t mean much to them, and fell silent.
“Royal blood,” smiled Keol. “How come you are roaming these mountains? You don’t need to tell me, if you won’t,” he added.
Orin decided to keep his quest for himself, at least for now. “I’m going north,” he said vaguely.
The strange twins sat beside them, silent. They watched Orin with interest, but he didn’t know if they understood a word.
“Where is your companion?” asked the man.
“How do you know I’m not travelling alone?” wondered Orin.
“We’re travelling side by side for some time. We saw you many times.”
“How it is, then, that we haven’t seen a thing?”
“Don’t blame yourself for that. The people from the Hunters tribe can be seen only when they want it. They are quieter than the forest elves.”
Orin looked at the twins. Their clothes, dark coloured just few moments before, now were almost white, like the colour of snow around them.
Keol noticed Orin’s stare. “Ah, their clothes! It’s made of the skin of many-coloured dragon.”
“Dragon?” asked Orin in awe. “They hunt dragons?”
The man laughed. “Well, they are not really dragons in a sense of a word, they only call them so. The many-coloured dragon is a common lizard, slightly bigger than man, in truth. It climbs the cliffs and hunts for the wild goats. Apart from that, it’s an easily frightened animal which runs away from man, and has an ability to adapt its colour to the surrounding terrain, in order to avoid danger. But, when it’s cornered, trust me, it fights like a real dragon.” He looked at the two Hunters.
“They know that,” he stated, and continued “The Hunters have found a way to preserve the skin for rather long time after its owner is dead.”
“Fantastic!” Orin had never heard for anything like this.
The male twin, Saim, rose at that moment and said something to his companions. The prince couldn’t comprehend a word of what he was saying.
“Saim said we must go on,” said Keol. “Our ways seem to go in the same direction. It would be good if you would call your friend, and if we continued the journey together, for a time, at least. Bigger the company, smaller the danger from the wolves.”
“My experience’s different. They slaughtered my whole escort, fiftee
n men!” said Orin sceptically.
“You probably neglected the fire. But, don’t worry, with these two, we don’t have to be too afraid,” answered Keol.
Orin shrugged. “All right, I’m going to get Arios. Our campsite isn’t too far from here.”
He hoped the sorcerer wouldn’t mind travelling in company. Although he didn’t know them, these people somehow radiated trust. With them along, it could be an easier journey.
“While you’re gone, Saim and Nai will bring the pig. It didn’t get far. You should aim better.” said Keol, smiling.
Arios looked slightly suspicious, but didn’t say anything.
When they reached the meadow, the three companions were waiting for them, ready to go. The appearance of the sorcerer disturbed the twins. After a short conversation, Keol said: “Saim and Nai are telling me you are Learned in Secrets. I think it’s their name for the shamans. It seems they are a bit afraid of you.”
“It’s true,” said the sorcerer. “You can call me Arios. And you don’t have to be afraid. My knowledge isn’t going to put anyone in jeopardy.” I hope so, he finished in his thoughts.
They gathered their supplies and started northward.
“We’ll get to know each other on the road,” said Keol.
The story of the three travellers was an unusual one: Keol met the twins under rather suspicious circumstances in the City-under-the-granite-stone, one of the bigger crossroads, in the southwest part of the Blue Mountains. “A grim place, gathering of the scum from all sides of the world,” Keol was telling. It was a market place for the peoples of the Blue Mountains, a place for exchange of goods and information. Also, a place for hiring mercenaries of all kind. A man from the far north came there, searching for the Hunters. Nai and Saim weren’t satisfied with offerings they were getting for their lion skins. The man offered a rich prize in gemstones, but he couldn’t explain what kind of job awaits them. Seeing his wealth, several brigands who were sitting at the next table and listening to the conversation thought they could get to those gemstones easily. A bloody struggle broke out, and Keol joined the combat, deciding that ten against three were not fair odds. The brigands were beaten, but their employer was mortally wounded. All he managed to say was for them to be at the Emerald Falls, which flowed from the stone called Dragon’s Tooth, in precisely sixty days. There, they would find out what awaits them. “Why didn’t you simply go away...” asked Orin.
Keol’s cold gaze interrupted the question. “I’m a mercenary, not a thief. Besides, where Nai and Saim are coming from, they don’t have a word for deceit.” Then he smiled. “After all, wouldn’t you be interested what kind of job it is?”
Responding to trust with trust, Orin told them shortly where and why they were going.
“I heard about a legend of that ring. Few people know it, and they are so old they can’t remember what it was any more,” said Keol. “If there is a place where one should search for it, it is surely the Dragon Rock.”
“Why?” interrupted the sorcerer.
“I have seen the world, many lands and wonders,” said the mercenary, “but the Dragon Rock is the greatest mystery. Haven’t you noticed it doesn’t get any closer, no matter how long you travel in its direction?”
“Yes,” said Orin. “I think it’s so because of its size. It lies much more distant than it seems.”
“Maybe.” Keol was not convinced. “But, let me tell you something. I met several people who claimed they’ve been there. Not one of them could tell anything about that journey, or about the Rock. Nobody knows why it is so.”
“If there is some magic, Arios will help us,” said Orin. “He’s much more powerful than he wants to admit.”
The sorcerer was silent.
Nai and Saim were walking at a small distance ahead from the rest, listening, searching for marks on the trees and the ground only they knew how to find.
“Your companions seem to be even weirder than mine,” stated Orin.
“Many tales could be told of the Hunters of the mountain lions. Most people consider them the best hunters and warriors that ever lived in Blue Mountains. I met them from time to time. Their skill for survival borders with magic. And yet, the magic is the only thing they are afraid of.”
“It means they are wise, too,” Arios broke off the Keol’s talk. “Magic really is something one should be afraid of.”
“I don’t understand it,” said the prince. “If a man is powerful, why should he be afraid? Magic is power - if I have it, there is no reason to be afraid of it.”
“Well, maybe you’re right.” The sorcerer was not in the mood for arguing. “I hope we will get an answer to that question too.”
“The sky is clear,” said Keol. “Tonight it will be very cold. The wolves prefer such nights for hunting. We should be even more careful.”
The twilight came, and they made a camp under one huge pine tree, and a big fire, hoping it would protect them enough. But, the wolves came.
Someone was shaking Arios, and he woke, returning from the strange ways of dream into the cold night. “Wake up!” Orin was whispering. “Wolves!”
Sharp yellow eyes sparkled in the darkness, all around them. The twins threw the last dry branches in the fire. The flame was high, but the pack waited patiently.
“There are many of them!” whispered Keol. The long sword in his hand reflected the light of the fire, awaiting battle. “Usually they wouldn’t dare to attack. When the pack is big enough and the hunger becomes impossible to endure, nothing can stop them!”
From the darkness, ominous growling could be heard. Arios thought he could hear words spoken in those deep, hoarse sounds, words which promised death, and feast.
“Fearrrrr!”
“Destrrroy!”
“Brrrrreak!”
Orin was leaning on the tree, holding his bow ready. A thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. The smell of fear encouraged the attackers to get one step closer, then another. Big, dark silhouettes were clearly visible now, moving silently among the trees. Keol’s hand was shaking slightly, while the firelight glistened against the blade of his sword.
Arios was thinking fervently about the spell that could stop the whole pack. On his pastures on the mountain slopes, the wolves felt the presence of the unknown power, and avoided his herd and cottage. Here, in the middle of their realm, they feared nothing. He was just a trespasser, who couldn’t hope he’ll be given mercy. For the first time in his life, fear disabled the sorcerer’s thinking. He couldn’t remember anything, and felt utterly helpless, being forced to depend on Keol’s short sword. Fortunately, there was a time he was not a stranger to the art of sword.
Only the faces of Nai and Saim were unreadable. They waited silently, almost invisible in their suits which turned to the colour of the night, and their hands were, surprisingly, empty. It’s impossible that these people fight the beasts with bare hands! thought Orin, looking at the twins for a moment.
The fire was still burning when the first of the wolves lost his patience and charged at his intended prey, growling wildly. Keol’s sword cut him almost in half, with horrible cracking of the bones. In the same moment, Orin shot an arrow in the dark, then another.
The twins were on the move also, acting synchronized, like one. Arios caught with the corner of his eye a moment of their action, before he was forced to face the attacker from the dark.
Saim and Nai were throwing small darts with astonishing speed. Darts disappeared in the darkness, and, judging by sounds, few of them missed the target. The darts must have been covered with strong poison, because the animals that were hit didn’t stay on their feet longer than a few seconds.
They managed to push back the first assault, although no one among them was left without a scar. They were standing around the dying fire, legs shaking, waiting for the next onslaught of the animals which refused to give up. Orin has spent his arrows, the twins their darts, and now they held long daggers which they pulled from their boots.
r /> The night was filled with the stench of spilled entrails and blood. Hot steam blurred the sight of the fighters, in expectation of the oncoming battle.
This time, the wolves were fiercer. The defenders stood on a growing pile of dead animals, swinging wildly their swords. One huge animal jumped at sorcerer’s back, bringing him down. In the same moment it was slain by Keol’s long sword, now darkened with blood. The mercenary stood over the sorcerer, to protect him until he stands up, but Arios was out of strength. He was lying on the ground, his lungs bursting with effort.
Despite the desperate defence, the battle was closing to its only possible end. Fighters subdued to fatigue, and now it was only despair which led their swords and daggers. Once again, Orin was sure he reached the end of his mad journey.
At that moment, Arios saw beside him a small wooden object. It was the elven flute, which probably dropped from his bag during the battle. He took it in his hand, and felt somehow calm. Not knowing why, he started to play it quietly. This was not the first time that sorcerer tried to play the flute, but all other attempts were meaningless. The flute hadn’t been different from other wooden instruments that he used to made, back home, on his pastures. This time, the playing was different. The sound which the flute made was impossible to describe, in the same time quiet and piercing, unearthly, pleasant and irritating. It was a sound which only an instrument made by the hands of a craftsman of high-born elves could product.
Everything froze momentarily. Humans dropped their weapons, the wolves stopped, as in a trance. Then, they turned one by one, and went back into the depths of the forest. In a few moments, the battlefield was empty. Only the piles of corpses were left of the bloody battle.
Keol broke the silence. What he said seemed strange to the sorcerer.
“We have won. They gave up.”
“Or maybe something scared them?” added the prince, still barely breathing.
Arios said nothing. It seemed that no one heard the sound of the flute. Or, more typically for elven magic, the next moment people forgot what happened.
They decided to gather their things and to found a new campsite. The wolves could return. They would have to tend to their wounds later.
“Unbelievable luck!” Keol was saying. “If I ever get a chance to talk to people about this, no one’s going to believe me! No one ever survived an attack like this!”
Arios was content that his share in the victory went unnoticed. It was better for people not to feel the scent of power which followed the magic.
Still, when they were moving, Saim gave him a glance which almost surely meant gratitude.
Remember the smallest things when times are hard. Salvation may be hidden in them. The words of the elven girl rang in sorcerer’s mind again. The flute was much more of a gift than he thought. But, what price was he going to pay for an elven gift?
The next day, the companions were tending their wounds. No one was wounded severely. The twins made ointment from the mixture of pine’s pitch, needles and water, which eased the pain. Keol was good at sewing wounds. He worked with skill, without paying attention to twitching and cries from Arios and Orin.
The night of the struggle for life got the company closer and made an atmosphere of trust, which even a month of travelling together couldn’t do.
It is true that a man can get to know someone well only when they go through trouble together, thought Orin. Action is more efficient than all the words in the world. Their new companions were people you can count on. The night of horrors left them unmoved. Unlike my escort, the greatest knights of the realm, these wanderers got through it alive, and stronger.
They didn’t talk much. Arios noticed that no one’s mentioning the unusual end of the battle. The memory of elven magic was short in human mind.
Keol was telling funny stories from his mercenary days, making jokes on account of generals and nobles under whose banners he used to earn money. His life philosophy was simple. What one needs in life is to survive, and get from it as much pleasure as can be found.
“When my time’s over, I hope I will be holding a sword in my hands,” said he, grinning.
The twins nodded their heads, smiling. They understood the language of the Plain Countries, but they didn’t show any intention to use it. These two people were a complete mystery for Orin. He didn’t know a way to get close to them and get to know them better. But, maybe it was better that way. Maybe for worlds so much apart it was better to stay apart. Besides, the truth is, even the closest people often do not have a relationship they would want to have.
The following nights they were ready for fight, but the wolves didn’t come anymore. Their journey was peaceful. In moments of rest, Orin and Keol used to practice the sword-fight. The prince had been learning from the best teachers, and was rather good with his long sword, but after first few strokes it was clear he was no match for the mercenary.
“You’ve had good teachers, lad,” Keol told him, “but everyone could tell you’ve never lived by your sword. You’re hesitating when you need to act, and you’re missing your chances.”
“The strength isn’t most important in the art of sword,” he said in another occasion, when they were resting. “In the Plain Countries, they use the sword as a cudgel, trying to hammer their opponent in the ground with sheer force of strokes. But, these strokes are slow and easy to parry. In the east, they do not think much of that kind of swordplay. The masters from the east say that everything is in one moment. If you strike in the right moment, you win. If you wait and think, you’re dead. You must learn to recognize that moment, when the opponent’s defences are most vulnerable.”
“How can I recognize it?” asked the prince.
“Watch the eyes,” answered Keol. “Everything’s written in the eyes.”
His huge weapon flying around the prince’s head was with unbelievable lightness, breaking his defences and knocking out the sword from his hands. Orin was not too fond of his numerous defeats or of the lessons the mercenary gave him, but he had to confess to himself that Keol’s words were not empty, and that his actions supported them.
“You aren’t hopelessly inept,” said the mercenary, looking at him. “You learn fast, and you know how to take a good advice from your betters.”
The prince was sure Keol knew how it is hard for him to listen to advice, and his pride prevented him from showing anger. So he quietly listened, trying to remember as much as he can. On the other side, Keol was given to teaching his new student generously.
“I used to teach many boys,” he often said. “When I’m gone, at least one part of Keol will continue to live in warriors of the Plain Countries. I think it’s more than most people can say.”