The Kingdoms of Felspar, page 2
part #1 of The Curse of the Dragon Bloodline Series
Vaal was a fierce dragon, indeed. However, he’d been young at the time of the battle. No doubt Vaal had homed in on his magic abilities by now. There were tales of others who’d tried to rid the ruins of this vermin. According to legend, one needed to catch him while he slept to resist his power. This dragon would be an utmost prize to Rúne’s collection of bragging rights.
Rúne was not oblivious to the law. In fact, one of his ancestors had put this decree in place. Undoubtedly, he would have to agree to disagree. As with any creature, population control was necessary. Furthermore, he did not want that many magical creatures roaming the realm, peacekeepers or not. Unless humans were able to balance the scale, it was a hypocrisy to humanity. Besides, dragon slaying was what Rúne did best; he was king, after all, and could make his own rules. If the other rulers of Felspar had a problem with it, they could take it up with him.
Aside from the legends, it was rumored that other slayers had discovered this dragon’s weakness. Vaal was not as physically strong as his dragonkin. However, Rúne did not want to take any chances based on gossip. This beast was an offspring of the legendary Dragoona, a descendant of Bahamut, the most powerful dragon with the capability to destroy all of Felspar and every being in it.
In the ancient texts of the scribes, it was said that Bahamut’s power was so great that he’d become purely energy. That made Dragoona a prize to capture in comparison. To have all powers of the elements—now, that would be worth the risk. Not only would Rúne be able to hold his place as king and gain the support from all of his people, that kind of advantage would give him the ability to protect and rule all the kingdoms of Felspar. If he were honest, Rúne could admit that his lust for power was bold.
It was a sennight’s journey to Rabadon from Ungolia. Rúne’s men followed in groups of twelve with each commander overseeing their own settling camp. He was confident in his men’s training and that they knew the raiding rules—never make a campfire unless they were far enough away, and snuff it as soon as they were finished. Never bring horses and wagons all the way. The quarry must always be less than half a day’s walk from the campsite. Horses were only brought in after infiltrating and assessing the need for bigger weapons, which was usually signaled with a flag and pole if there was a clearing. Someone was always within sight of the camp on the day of raiding.
Upon infiltrating the entrance into the Ruins of Rabadon, the group assembled in one of the abandoned towers to camp until eventide. As the men rested in preparation of the impending raid, Rúne found himself growing anxious in anticipation of the hunt. In an effort to calm himself, he took a deep breath and strode to the tower window to gaze upon the ruins below.
Rabadon had once been a beautiful city until sieged, partly by other rulers seeking to destroy it, and mostly to expand their lands from its abundance. Rúne observed the grand settlement in awe, remembering when he was a child how thriving it had been. The rubble had not been livable for quite some time after the city was destroyed.
The jagged cliffs at the edge of the ruins overlooked the waters of Felspar. The stones lay alongside a mine at its base down the makeshift stairwell. Sharp boulders busied the pathway with limestone and granite. Inside the mine were veins of black rock that were mined for fire, precious metals for weapons and armor, and crystals for apothecaries.
If we manage to be successful, Rúne thought, it could be rebuilt, and the resources of this fallen kingdom would yield trade, riches, and security for the people and kings to come.
Lost in his thoughts of the ruined city, Rúne had not realized how long he had been standing there until he heard some of his men stirring. They too were restless, and he understood that like him, they needed action more than sleep. Gathering only what they needed, the small troupe of warriors left camp on foot to investigate the terrain and Vaal’s patterns while the others stayed behind.
“Mayhap we should have come by ship, Your Majesty,” Sefi, the youngest of Rúne’s men, complained as they neared the cliffs. “It would have made travel much easier.”
As if in response, the men’s attention was captured by the sound of a dragon screeching in the distance. Rúne and his men cautiously and quickly approached the edge of the cliff. Peering down into the water below, they witnessed the silhouette of Vaal as a ship firing a cannon at the creature.
“See there, lad?” Rúne nodded toward the battle before them. “That is why we do not come by ship. It is too obvious.”
Sefi gulped as he looked on in fearsome wonder.
“You cannot very well be that close in proximity to a dragon lair without it noticing. Ships are big and not so inconspicuous,” Rúne continued as he watched the encounter.
“Aye, and those men will soon meet their fate,” Auđin imparted, shuddering at the thought.
The beast was not as Rúne had expected, but it was healthy. He motioned for his men to take cover in the shrubs to keep from drawing attention to themselves as they observed the confrontation. Vaal approached the ship’s edge using his wings and strength, grabbing at it with his claws, trying to pull it upwards into the sky to flip it on its edge.
Some of the ship’s crew fell overboard and Vaal snapped, eating a few of them in one gulp. As brave as Rúne and his men might have seemed, some swallowed hard at the thought of that fate, being eaten by a dragon. It was not something they cared to experience firsthand.
A blast of cannon fire resounded through the cliffside as Vaal was struck. The beast staggered back, nearly collapsing to the water. As they watched, Rúne began to worry that this dragon might become a prize for another. Luckily, the beast rose again, only this time with force, slamming his entire body into the side of the ship and clawing, biting, and scraping at the wooden planks. Vaal managed to puncture a hole into the stern on the ship’s larboard side.
“It looks like a Naulybian ship,” Rúne declared, recognizing the green banner flying freely of a black half-crest dragon with three stars in the center. He could hear the panicked screams coming from the ship’s crew, knowing their doom was inevitable. There was nothing he or his men could do lest they give themselves away and be willing to share in the kill.
“Are we going to help them, Majesty?” Sefi looked to his king, furrowing his brow in concern for the ship’s crew.
“We cannot, at least from this distance,” Rúne replied, sparing a glance at Sefi. “Even with the harpoon, the dragon would be dutifully finished by the time it would take to get it here. Besides,” he added with a shrug, “it would never reach him.”
“Aye. We would give ourselves away in this manner if we tried,” OlvéR chimed in.
“No doubt another champion seeking to claim the ruins or for dragons’ blood to peddle.” Auđin’s tone dripped with disdain.
Rúne’s gaze quickly shot to his brother. Although peddling dragon blood was a dangerous black-market commodity, there were some desperate enough to attempt their hand at fate. Mingling dragon blood with human blood had been a known practice for those seeking to harness the magical abilities of the dragon. However, the process was quite excruciating, so he had heard. Not to mention the effects it could have during conception and what it could do to an unborn child. Although he had that very intention in mind, Rúne wondered if Auđin may entertain such an idea. Albeit, Auđin had always been much more of a do-gooder.
“Isn’t seeking dragon power forbidden and punishable by death?” Sefi asked incredulously.
“Aye, but that does not stop them.” OlvéR shrugged indifferently. “Their greed sickens me, but the dragon parts fetch a magnificent price in the marketplace. That prize could feed a family for months. No doubt that is what they are after.” OlvéR looked back toward the skirmish. “Even these ruins would be a grand prize. Nonetheless, it would take much to rebuild. Most of these kings want a quick order, not something they would truly have to work for.”
The screams from the ship caused Sefi to wince and Rúne’s heart went out to the lad. Surely the sound brought back painful memories of the lad’s childhood. Rúne knew all too well the feeling of helplessness that Sefi was experiencing. Too young to fight, Sefi had been unable to do anything but watch while men slaughtered his family. Rúne had taken him in and gave him a home with his men. At thirteen winters now, Sefi had proved to be an apt pupil.
As the ship began to sink, the crew fought to make their way toward the starboard side and bow that remained above water. Naulybian guards were jumping overboard, swimming toward shore in hopes to escape. Still, others continued to fight. True warriors to the end.
Vaal seemed to prevail in his defense to safeguard his dwelling. Scooping the last of the men out of the water who were trying to escape and devouring them with a vengeance, he seemed to never fill. Rúne knew it was out of necessity, for fear that they would return with more men.
Back at camp, the warriors busied themselves with pastimes before the big raid. Inside the ring of an old bath house, Rúne and OlvéR pulled their blades and began slicing at each other as they crouched and encircled one another in swordplay.
Lunging forward, OlvéR’s blade connected with Rúne’s right forearm, barely penetrating his leather bracer.
Rúne dismissed the damage and focused on the blade coming at him, dodging in time with each strike.
OlvéR haphazardly stumbled with another lunge, which triggered Rúne to kick him in the behind. The move knocked him off balance, causing him to land face-first in the dirt. Laughing, OlvéR rose to his feet dusted himself off.
The other warriors gathered around to watch the swordplay, cheering them on exuberantly.
“Are we done, Your Majesty? I should get back to the men,” OlvéR stated, having disgraced himself enough.
Rúne gestured toward the crowd with the tip of his blade. “Are they not already here?” he bellowed with an arrogant grin.
The steely glint in OlvéR’s eyes warned Rúne of his friend’s growing impatience. This display was harmless. It was nothing more than entertainment for the men, to rally their spirits for the fight to come. Certainly, OlvéR had been weak when he’d first arrived in Ungolia after his home, Romar, was destroyed by dragons. It was this reason that he’d joined Rúne’s faction and more than likely why he was torn between the law keepers and the law breakers. Yes, he had been weak, but OlvéR had long since improved his skill.
“Giving up so quickly, OlvéR?” Rúne teased with an impish smile. “What happened to the great dragon hunter?”
“Saving it for the dragon, Your Majesty,” OlvéR replied with a roguish grin of his own.
Rúne agreed that it was best to dissolve the horseplay for now and save strength for their battle with the dragon. “Aye, fair enough.”
“Help . . . help!”
The men turned in unison to see someone coming toward them.
Sefi ran to the newcomer’s aid with caution. The man was Naulybian, his lineage evident in his burnished bronze skin. The emblem of Naulyb was engraved prominently in his steel breastplate. The outsider appeared to be clutching his side, no doubt injured from the battle that had taken place earlier.
“Thank you,” said the stranger, staggering toward safety.
“Who are you?” Rúne demanded as he approached, clutching the hilt of his blade.
“I am Gradius of the Naulybian guard,” he rasped. “My king brought us here to slay the Rabadon dragon. I have been injured and barely escaped with my life.” He grunted as each breath seemed to cause him pain. “D-do you have water?”
Rúne nodded at Sefi to fetch him a drink and turned back to the injured Naulybian. “One of my men can escort you back to our hold for the night and then on to your village at dawn. Your king, did he survive?”
“No.” Gradius sighed with regret as he shook his head. “That is very gracious of you, sire.” His gaze was thoughtful, then grew determined. “I would be forever in your debt if you would grant me the honor of joining your raid. That is why you are here also, are you not?”
Rúne hesitated before finally answering, “Aye.” He regarded the injured man with suspicion. “How do we know if we can trust you?”
“I merely desire to see that dragon’s head on a pike for what he did to my king and my men. I mean you no ill will,” Gradius swore emphatically.
Detecting the ring of truth in his words, Rúne studied Gradius for a moment. Assessing the Naulybian green and black tabard over leather armor, his long sandy-brown hair dirty from the recent events. The man seemed harmless enough, he thought, though not the typical king’s guard; there was something more about him. A survivor. A slayer.
“You are injured,” Rúne finally said, stating the obvious. “I will not risk the lives of my men to mollycoddle you.”
“Fair enough,” Gradius replied quickly, his eyes alight at the thought of seeing that beast slain.
Rúne gave a quick nod. “So be it.”
As twilight loomed before them, the men proceeded toward the cliff’s edge to engage the jagged stones leading toward Rabadon mines. The hunters utilized the moonlight as they entered the cavern, stepping into darkness and using their primal senses.
Great hunters were experts at feeling the beast. They knew every aspect of their prey’s habitation, from tracks to what they ate. They learned their routine very quickly and studied the creature’s behaviors and movements. That was the only way a true hunter could succeed—especially in hunting a dragon with supernatural power. Oh, and patience. Lots of patience. A great hunter could sit for hours on end, holding their own fluids, rubbing themselves down with the earth’s soil and things around them to mask their scent.
Vaal was the weaker dragon as far as magical abilities, but powerful, nonetheless. Rúne was not overly concerned, although the tales that Vaal could get into one’s mind put him on guard. Rúne had learned this from informants of other slayers who had fought and survived the dragon.
“Clear your minds,” Rúne whispered as they neared the opening. “Let your eyes focus with the darkness before proceeding forward.”
The entrance of the cavern floor was slippery from the ocean waves crashing onto the surface. Carefully, they made their way inside. Pushing forward, Rúne and his warriors made out a path as winds followed them, howling from corridor to corridor.
An overpowering presence loomed as they entered further into the cavernous mine. Rúne was aware that as the blood began to sing in his veins, some of his men began to struggle with their own unease. He would not bother to calm them with words of encouragement. Dragon slaying was not meant for the weak-minded.
Near the back of the mine, they found the beast slumbering in a corner and Rúne held up his hand to halt the advancement of his men. Vaal was a magnificent beast, fierce and beautiful. His indigo and silver scales shimmered like the moon reflecting on the water’s surface.
As stealthily as possible, the hunters waited with squinted eyes as they focused on their king. Holding up his hand, fingers outstretched, they were barely able to make out his image, even with the illuminating insects on the cavern walls. They quietly drew their swords and watched as he counted down, finger by finger, until he made a fist and squeezed. That was their cue.
Moving together, the hunters rushed upon the beast, sticking their swords into his neck in an effort to quickly to take off his head. Vaal was not a massive dragon but as great as eight horses in size. He let out a shriek as sharp blades penetrated him.
Rúne heard many stories of this dragon. They seemed more like fables now that they were face-to-face with him. Vaal was no match for him and his men at all, and Rúne could not believe that he had not done this sooner. He could be the greatest king in all Felspar, not just Ungolia.
“Wha-what are you doing?” Sefi yelled as one of the hunters swung his blade at him. He effectively blocked the attack with his shield and noticed that some of the other hunters were beginning to turn on one other. “Majesty!”
“Hold them off!” Rúne yelled through the clamoring fray. “They are being controlled by the dragon to fight for it. Hold them, and if you must, kill them.”
Several men rushed to restrain those under Vaal’s control while the rest of the hunters swarmed in and took turns slashing into the dragon. With each thrust, they stabbed and sliced at the beast’s neck until the severed head fell to the ground before them.
OlvéR worked to light a torch as they all cheered in their accomplishment. Coming to their senses, the men no longer under Vaal’s control were released. Each man drew in closer to get a better look at the magnificent beast now that there was more than the flicker of glowworms throughout the cavern. With the rush of victory coursing through their veins, they busied themselves, carving bits and pieces of the dragon to sell in the marketplace.
Auđin cut several sections from the dragon’s underbelly, taking scales here and there. They were vibrant in silver and indigo. Another took some of the lighter purple scales, while others began taking the dragon’s teeth, claws, and even its eyes.
Sefi took the entire head. “I’m going to make a helmet for myself,” he boasted.
OlvéR rolled his eyes while the other men shouted with laughter.
“I would like to see how you plan to get that thing out of here. It’s half the size of a horse,” Auđin chuckled, waving his torch. A glimmer in the cave’s distance caught his eye, and he realized it was crystals from the mine.
“I plan to put it in the wagon,” Sefi retorted matter-of-factly. “The others should be here by now,” he grunted a little breathlessly. “I sent Finn to flag the cavalry.” Sefi strained to drag the head toward the exit of the mine.
