Blood of Four Dragons (3 page)

From two hundred they were now nine including the captain. Captain Oelrud gathered his men around him a safe distance from the spiral staircase they had used to escape the build site. This should give him some time to think out their next step he thought. “The dragon must be cursing us lads!” the captain said to his men trying to ease the mood but drawing only faint smiles from the thinned, ashen faces. Looking into their eyes, hundreds of miles from home he could see their pain and fear. The captain began to speak to his men. “Today was a day that will be a song, this da…” at that moment the guardian flew up from beneath all nine and swallowed them as it flew off into the sky making its way north. Leaving nothing behind but a gaping hole in the rock below and not a single eye open to weep for the dead, the guardian flew to its next victim. It would never stop killing without its destruction or relief. Magical intervention must exist or extermination is assured.

Summer had been kind to Jeop this year with a perfect balance of sun and rain. The lower southern half of Grazlin is the most fertile in the kingdom. The river of life has made the north arable but it is still rather mountainous. Jeop’s family had farmed this land for generations. The village had built up nicely a few miles down the road from his farm. His wife and three children helped run the farm, their village, now closer in scope to a small city was growing quite a reputation for quality produce and fine local meats. The harvest had been gathered and bundled for the market. Jeop and his family set off down the winding dirt road on a sunny and mild summer morning.  Transporting what is sure to be a successful harvest, the family was merrily singing as their wagon slowly lumbered along the road weighed down with their goods. “Looking forward to another good year Mother,” Jeop said, smiling to his wife as the road wound along. The village came into sight after rounding the last hill and Jeop steered his wagon towards his stall in the marketplace as he had for many years.

Merchants everywhere, with what seemed every type of goods from all of Oleskia. Children running through the crowd playing, sounds of singing drifting off in the distance. The smell of meats grilling, these are some of the numerous sights, sounds and smells in the southern Grazlin marketplace on the first harvest day of each year. Jeop began unloading his wagon with his family and setting up shop. As they unloaded, Jeop chatted with his neighboring stalls, catching up on the winter news. He didn’t notice the sun had gone red, until the smell of brimstone hit his nose there was no clue this day was different from any other, different indeed being his last. Jeop looked into the sky in confusion as he held his fruits in his hands. Trying to rummage quickly thorough his mind as to what may be causing such a phenomena. His last vision was a huge red dragon full of flame and black smoke sweeping down on him at a speed never seen, and then, the village and everyone in it was gone in a puff of smoke. That’s how fast it happens, not dramatic in the least, save the dramatics for the theater. In reality, the dragon sweeps in like a firestorm from the hottest part of the sun, spews fire and nothing remains except the destruction of the next village. That is the cruelty of life; everyman thinks they shall live forever whether they have been given five good years or fifty. We exist briefly, until in an instant, we cease to exist. Best to enjoy your moments before the dragon comes.

Xamuiez is a God; his ways are not the ways of mortals. None alive can know his meaning or comprehend his plan. The four sleeping dragon lords and their guardian statues are very closely related in many ways unknown to all but him. Thus, unknown to the dwarves, the instant the guardian was awakened the curse was removed from the real Zebial in the far north and Xamuiez lifted the first dragon’s long slumber. Zebial was taken to the surface and placed in a sunny grove by the powers of Xamuiez, passing through no earth. There, Bultan was awaiting his arrival. Fifteen hundred years had made the great dragon very disoriented at first, as was expected. With the help of Bultan and his magic he began to come around and awaken gradually. This was the first time Zebial had been awake since having the evil curse lifted and he was himself in mind again for the first time in over fifteen hundred years. Upon fully awakening and regaining his memories, Zebial collapsed in front of Bultan shaking the ground like a great earthquake as he dropped. Bultan barely came up to the great dragon’s lower jaw. “I cannot bear it, the murder, the evil unleashed by my own hand, my own weakness.” Zebial cried as he lamented, tears began filling the ground under Bultan’s feet. Looking upon it Bultan’s first lesson came to mind when he was but a child, he remembered his master telling him how closely dragon’s tears resembled mercury. Odd, the great wizard moved forward and touched Zebial’s chin softly. “My dear Zebial, the evil brought upon you and your brethren was not your fault. Your river of life created by you alone in Rozim so many thousands of years ago still gives life to the people. No dear one, another’s decision to exploit your weakness for evil does not create guilt on your part, only more evil for the one who would sow such thoughts.”Zebial lifted his head, the size of a king’s palace and looked down upon Bultan. The wizard continued, “This is a new time, a new age and course there must be a new evil.” He chuckled to himself. “Yet, this “new” evil is a familiar foe, the apprentice of your enslaver, Zangonath the clouded. He does not have the knowledge to manipulate the dragons’ magical weakness like his master.” The huge dragon lord let out an angry snort and smoke flew from his nostrils. “Your curse is now lifted as your stone guardian was awakened by the ever digging dwarves. Without regard to its power, the ruby was improperly removed; as we speak it kills in your name.” Bultan relayed to Zebial quickly. “Then I must leave this place and stop the guardian, so I may begin working on restoring my reputation by destroying this Zangonath, his name reminds me too much of his master and I will see him eliminated forever.” Bultan could see the fire glow in Zebial’s eyes, this made the old wizard tingle with electric magic as his staff began to crackle in his hand audibly. It had been over millennia since he had seen the eye fire and understood what was to come next after it had been seen in a dragon lords eyes. “Go Zebial; begin the restoration of the world. Find the other statues if you can and all four dragon lords will be free before the evil spell can run its course over time, which could be thousands of years more. Then there shall be no threat, and peace may finally settle upon this land and the inhabitants lives.”

Zebial left immediately and began flying south as fast as he could; drawn to the guardian he knew exactly where to go. “Has it truly been fifteen hundred years?” Zebial thought to himself as he surveyed the dramatically changed landscape unfolding beneath him as it flew by. His mental map no longer matched the pictures beneath him. The guardian would be making its way north mindlessly rampaging. After only a few hours of flight Zebial saw thick billowing smoke in the distance and flew towards it. Circling above he surveyed the scene, the guardian was below burning and destroying the village. “These people think that is me!” A horrified Zebial thought. His mind was still filled with all the guilt and past memories of his atrocities when he was cursed. There had been no time to process these events and it appeared there wouldn’t be for some time. Zebial was consumed with a burning rage. Swooping down in a semi circle building up an incredible amount of speed, Zebial took aim at each side of the guardian’s neck with his huge talons and dove headlong, increasing his speed even more so. The guardian was immersed in burning down a large warehouse and had noticed nothing.

Zebial slammed into the guardian’s neck with such force that it was decapitated and drove into the ground over twenty feet creating a large crater. The remaining surrounding buildings collapsed from the thunderclap of the impact. Only blood and some twitching feet remained of the guardian. Zebial emerged from the crater he had created and flew away immediately. There was nothing he could do for this village, everyone was already dead or gone and there were very few buildings left. If they were they were on fire. Zebial could only take solace in the fact that the guardian’s rampage was over and could not falsely sully his name any worse than it already had. Zebial now heeded Bultan’s advice after releasing some of his rage. Instead of confronting Zangonath now, he would work on locating, awakening and eliminating the other guardian statues to wake his brother and sisters.

The south of Lenau is a beautiful area of old growth preserved forest. There is a lovely coastline along the river of separation allowing for a favorite pastime, fishing. No homes, not even nobles are allowed to construct along the river of separation. There are only minimal lodges, sparsely located which serve more the purpose of cleaning up after the fisherman than they do in serving guests. The loose fish is one such favorite tavern of the local fishermen as it serves alcohol no matter the day or time. The owner is also very well known and is a friend to every local so it seems. Camor is the proprietor of the loose fish and he prides himself on serving fellow Lenau citizens and if they are locals, even better. The Rozim, and occasional Grazlin hikers or fishermen should try someplace else with their demands and expectations. “Expectation is the executioner of possibility,” Camor always liked to say, better to have none and live presently.

“
You ugly son of a bitch, pour us two strong ones,” a gruff voice called to Camor as a gray haired dirty looking man strode through the door with an equally gruff and dirty looking man next to him. Both looked and smelled as if they had been at sea for weeks when all they were doing was day fishing. “Everything is strong to a weak livered girl and his dog” replied Camor. They both stared at each other for a moment before all three burst into raucous laughter as Camor proceeded to pour the two drinks. “How’s the fish biting today Ral,” Camor asked looking at the gray haired man who he was jesting with previously. “Well, Bord and I were out all morning with only a few meaningful bites, no keepers though” Ral replied as he finished his drink. “We’re going to head back out after we have a few drinks.” Bord chimed in, maybe it can change our luck he said nudging Ral with his elbow. “Well let me know if it picks up this afternoon, I’m planning on going tomorrow to see if I can’t catch some fresh dinner.” Camor said to them as he refilled their drinks; they smoked and nodded in return.

When he had finished refilling their drinks the door opened and a strange man walked in. Very tall, quite fat, wearing all black and stinking of smoke, not cigar or pipe smoke, but brimstone and fire type smoke. He had a full beard that appeared never shaven and an unkempt mane of wild hair. He wore no cape, hat or crest but fastened about his waist were two large swords attached to a wide leather belt. Upon the belt was an absolutely huge silver buckle bearing an insignia of a dragon that Camor did not recognize. All the regulars from their regular corners let out an unenthusiastic murmur of disapproval as the man came in and made his way to the bar. Camor let out a long sigh, making sure to be heard and glared at the stranger with unwelcome eyes. “I am looking for the halfway mark of stone in the river of separation.” The stranger said in an unknown accent as he laid several gold pieces on the counter. “Also a drink if you please.” “Well stranger, Camor said briskly, what you can do is keep your damn foreign money, as he slid the coin into his own pocket. Now, Camor pointed to the door, go back out that door you came in, turn right and walk about twenty miles and you might stumble across that fake stone marker those Rozim dogs placed in our sacred river, Got it?” Ral and Bord stared at the stranger as his jaw tightened and he locked eyes with Camor. It appeared this was going to get ugly fast. Ral unfastened his knife to make for quick access. However, instead the large wild looking man in black smiled and stepped backwards. “As you would have it barkeep” the man said as he turned and walked back towards the door. Camor, Ral and Bord were smiling at each other and already laughing under their breath. Before the stranger left he turned and said, “Camor son of Mizek has shown he is a fool, and all a fool has will be lost.” He then turned and left much quicker than when he had entered.

There was a moment of silence and then, “Wait; how the fuck does that guy know my name and my father’s name” Camor said while looking at Ral? Neither he nor Bord could understand how he had known Camor’s name so they could only shrug in response. Camor stopped what he was doing, dropped his towel and ran outside after the Wildman to question him, but when he got there, no one was outside. When looked for, the man seemed to have vanished. Camor stood there, scratching his head and looking in every direction. Not a soul, Camor went back inside to see everyone standing and looking at him. “Well?” Bord said, “There was nobody out there, I couldn’t find him.” Camor returned slowly. The room was silent until someone near the back probably the town drunkard Veek blurted, “Pour my liquor boy, don’t drink it.” Everyone burst into laughter and began to relax a bit; even Camor let out a smile and moved back to tending the bar.

Sedsor was fishing his Sunday away next to the great stone that marks the halfway point of the river of separation. His pole stuck lazily in the mud, Sedsor even more lazily lying away from the shoreline under an oak tree dozing in and out of consciousness. He loved this spot; most people didn’t want to see what they considered to be an eyesore in the form of the enormous stone marker while they were fishing. The secluded nature of the spot was always a draw to him. But today as he lay there Sedsor heard footsteps, footsteps coming in his direction. Lying under the oak tree away from the bank he was well shielded from vision with leaves if you were on the shore, so he decided not to move. Suddenly, next to him breezing past out of the woods eyes fixated on the marker Sedsor saw a large wild looking man emerge. The man approached the marker very methodically as if he had been planning a trip here for a long time. Never taking his eyes off the stone marker, he never even saw Sedsor and if he did he felt no need to acknowledge him. The large, wild looking man approached the large stone marker and ran his hand along its side over a rune carving. Sedsor stayed completely still under the tree and decided to observe this strange man’s actions.