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Dragons,heroes,quests and more.Insane characters. The dark one wreaks havoc. |
Shauul hunts Five steaming mounds cast blackest shadows as they lay in mutilated heaps at the feet of Shauul. Night closed in; shadows replaced reality as the darkness unleashed its own terrors on the unwary. In the absence of light, a world vanished to be replaced by nothingness but for Shauul night or day impaired him not. His glowing eyes were a gift from the gods; he was master of his domain… An unholy soul-chaffing cry born of pure unadulterated savagery shattered the ethereal silence of the forest. This furious discharge plumbed the hushed depths of the once sleeping world. A violent conclusion to the comforting solitude of night seemed but a heart beat away as concussive outbursts of the most frightening kind echoed ominously about in the distance. One angry cry became many as the reverberations plundered the engulfing blackness of night. A murderous challenge charged the atmosphere with terror and with it came the promise of further bloodshed spawned by its master’s indomitable rage. Furiously the dragon vented his primordial rage at the heavens. His blackened form the perfect camouflage amid the shadows of the night. Fiery star like orbs drifted portentously in the barren black sky as he dutifully lingered statute still invisible to all but the keenest of eye. His homicidal remonstration to the unknown petered out. Hauntingly it faded to remain unanswered. A quietness tentatively re-settled the killing ground as he inhaled huge calming lungfuls of pine-scented air. Beneath him hidden by the protective canopy of the forest, shadows noiselessly fled his roving eyes for existences hung now in the balance. Revelation would attract his lethal attention. Thunderous rasping breaths muted swishing sounds from the surrounding swaying treetops as heavily armoured flanks fought to re establish harmony within the confines of his enormous bulk. Bloodlust and battle rage the most potent of the killer’s emotions begrudgingly ebbed to be caged by a primary instinct to gorge on the flesh of his kill. Hunger his only master demanded satisfaction and did so now with an all-consuming urgency. His fiery eyes continually scoured the moons lit clearing as he searched warily for any signs of approaching danger. Impossibly large for a denizen of Eirith he dwarfed the slain as they lay obediently frozen in death below him. Barely recognizable now for what they once were the mounds of still warmed flesh lay in tattered ruins beneath his hungry gaze. Comforted at last by the prolonged hush that had befallen the forest Shauul lowered his tooth filled maw to taste the odours of the forest floor. Dragon hot breath wafted over the stinking waiting flesh as his time to feed approached. With sudden catlike fervour, razor sharp eviscerating claws exploded into action. Remorselessly he tore savagely at the flesh of the defeated. Satisfied he could now proceed undisturbed the feast began in earnest. Sword like talons plunged deep into the warm yielding tissues of the slain. Clouds of bloodied gore sprayed free from the lifeless bounty to glorify his gruesome efforts. He made effortless work of the exposed unprotected flesh and bone for even the strongest of body armour would offer little hindrance to this ravenous hunter of the germ. Massive crushing jaws ground the grizzled flesh to a pulp. Bones snapped and ball joints popped as his volcanic eyes searched the darkness beyond the feeding ground to be certain. If danger lurked close by, he would not be caught unawares. Reflexively he swallowed the masticated remains with ease. The fresh flesh offered much needed nourishment for the journey back to Dragon’s Isle. Other’s hunger satisfying lifeblood he would hunt along the way for as always the Great Mother willingly provided for her most faithful of servants. Mother Eirith’s enemies had grown bold of late. Tonight’s meal had trespassed beyond the relative safety of their stronghold. Errugel king of the troll had up until now kept his marauding horde close to him as it inexorably fed like a parasite of the foulest kind from the Great Mother’s vital bosom to the exclusion of all others. Shauul’s quest to contain these foul abominations had been furthered tonight. Slowly he inhaled a bellyful of Mother Eirith’s life giving intoxicating air. Suddenly he stilled as the wafting breaths of the night breeze intimately probed his supernatural senses. Intertwined amongst these timeless airs coursed the tiniest of forewarnings unnoticeable to all save the most knowing. Instinctively he breathed deeply as his fearsome head ascended the heights. A thunderous snort set his pointed ears erect as he struggled to comprehend the importance of what had occurred. His fiery eyes blinked lazily in and out of existence in the pitch night sky as he sensed a monumentous something struggling to occur. An authenticated manifestation of any kind alluded him as he strove inwardly to commune with the most knowing of all knower. Mother Eirith his spiritual companion remained silent despite his best efforts to commune with her. Her comforting touch was noticeably absent tonight for the very first time in his existence. The exact meaning of what had truly transpired confounded him as long moments dissolved to become forgotten. The pondering leviathan languished lost in thoughts unfathomable to all but he alone. Finally, he shuddered sending wave after wave of rippling scales the length of his invulnerable body. His sub conscious self drifted free from the endless possibilities conjured by the fleeting uncertainty. Animated by sheer effort of will alone he flexed his powerful sinews to signal a timely return to complete awareness. Fearsome fangs and sharpened claws were but a few of the many weapons this formidable predator carried in his never-ending search for the tainted blood of his enemies. Inky black smoke trailed menacingly from his cavernous nostrils each one as large as a grown man’s head. These ghostly vapours served as a warning to all that fires raged deep within the belly of the beast. The blood sodden flesh tasted malodorous. The meat fouled by the taint of an elusive enemy. The dark one’s scent as always unmistakeable to him. This ancient foe had fled its nemesis throughout the centuries whilst he remained tireless in the pursuit of this despoiling iniquity from the very first day he had joined the hunt. Countless lifetimes had passed since then and still he hungered hotly for the kill. Tonight he stood triumphant yet again. A king amongst dragon’s he measured one hundred large steps long from his tail to the tip of his enormous smoke filled maw. The dark slayer, ever-faithful servant to the righteous and the innocent stood a magnificence to behold. His great bulk weighed as much as thirty heavily laden wagons if not more. His eyes the size of millstones shone brightly reflecting his inner fire adding to the already frightening countenance of Shauul the dark lord’s bane. His kill? Five of the largest rock trolls ever chanced upon in this normally uninhabited region of Eirith. Again, Shauul pondered the reason for why this may be so. These remorseless killers had strayed far from their homelands to the north. These ill-fated creatures had travelled for many days to pass beyond the influence of their demented king. Their reasons for doing so evaded him for now. He knew well of the troll stronghold having raided it successfully on innumerable occasions in the past for these creatures were truly a noxiousness of the worst kind. They infected the land with every fetid breath they stole or squandered. Their homeland remained a testament to their perverse way of life. Baalanthull- the city of bones blighted the land even though it lay far to the north deep in the frozen abandoned wastes of the Harridion. For creatures other than he this unforgiving region of Eirith was best avoided by lesser hunters and hunted alike. It was known by many to harbour deadlier foes than these hapless rock trolls. He snorted contemptuously sending gusts of shimmering darkness skyward to become lost beyond the range of his menacing luminescent eyes. A creature of true magic he revelled in his finery. Scales as black as the deepest night, hardened beyond the testing of worldly metals enmeshed his powerful body. A living impenetrable barrier shrouded him in an outer skin of invincibility. His existence up on till now measured many times that of mortals. His magic pulsated from the very heart of the Great Mother herself. As long as Eirith remained pure and untainted, he would outlive nations span countless life times and remain guardian over this beautiful land forever. Tonight something of importance was about to occur of this he was now certain. A deep rumbling from within his belly reminded him of the meal he had just consumed with lethal efficiency. His fearsome head instinctively lowered to the forest floor. Burning hot breath billowed about the carnage to resemble a ghostly mist. An unsatisfied stomach broke anew the frightened silence. Nothing of nutritional value remained of the meal except for a few tasteless morsels that lay scattered about. These he begrudgingly left for the scavengers that habitually trailed his shadow. The gory feast occupied an area best avoided by those unsuited to the sight and stench of blood. An area large enough to match his immense size stained horribly the lonely bloodied clearing. Night had fallen heavily about the rock-strewn plateau. Stars twinkled into existence as his time to depart approached. Without warning a faint smell, a different scent seized his attention. This was promptly followed by an audible utterance a muffled whimper plainly noticeable to a creature such as he. His instincts had been finely honed by countless years of conflict. He could detect prey from five leagues distant though the wind of flight howls relentlessly in his massive ears. More than a little curious he surveyed the congealing mess beneath him. He moved cautiously. Ever so slowly, he furthered his search comforted by the unfailing presumption that something hazardous would instinctively alert him to any immediate danger. This assurance quelled his ever-surging rage for as always his belief in himself bordered on the sheerest of arrogance. If challenged he would instantly become the frightening killer. Fire breathing hot and deadly his very essence enough to destroy all within his path. Foes would become fireballs if they ventured within one hundred paces of where he stood. From there, the doomed would remain inferno bound for nothing can escape his wrath. Shauul looked down at the shredded remains of the five northern killers. Pitiful weapons marked their demise. A mound of hair and hate was all that remained. Introductions Awakened from slumber, death, or even both a tiny life form barely a few summers old twisted weakly beneath a mound of cloth, bone and dirt. The tiny life writhed in agony as its quest for air was hampered beyond redemption. Its final gasps seemed but moments away. An innocent soul readied itself to flee its mortal prison. To seek the source of all things holy it’s only remaining desire and then nothing. A struggle lost for a limp and lifeless body as it jerked violently for the last time. It’s tenuous grip on the world of the living slipped through tiny outstretched fingers. Desperate cries left emptied lungs to seal its tiny fate. Conscious thought became failing memory to an infant that still yearned for the loving breast of its mother. Mother cannot save you now child; your time has come. You must sleep now seek the light! Emptiness stillness unknown to all but the dead tightened its merciless grip on the ebbing life force within the child. Invisible hands reached forward from endless eternity greedily seeking to gather the harvest. For life was designed to be cruel. This forgotten child was dwarfed by the harsher realities of an untamed and brutal world. Mother and Father the guardians of the future relinquished their hold. In death, tortured souls fled their tormentors like a lizard discards its tail. Parts of the living must be sacrificed when the need becomes great. On such a dark and unloving night as this life had truly been surrendered the innocent must die! The icy presence behind the cold hands that gripped the child’s life force faltered. For the first time in their task, they were no longer able to maintain a hold and so the hands released. Burned by the touch of a being as great as them they retreated to a safer distance within the realms of the spirtworld. The invader was one of immense power a demanding essence so pure and true that it commanded attention. Shauul urgently made his plea for the babe’s precious soul. The beast bound the fleeing life force to it’s own. As long he should remain alive and true, this infant would survive for he commanded it so. Eirith owed its guardian. Lifelong devotion demanded favour among the beings that had fashioned all. Long moments passed as the harvester of souls knelt before the dragon and knowingly the reaper smiled at the towering beast. A newborn was thrust into the world for the second time. It’s cries pierced the night with the pains of rebirth agonizingly fresh in its lungs. The child gulped greedily at the air as if determined never to fail in this task again. The infant radiated a power where none had been before. No longer weak and helpless the essence of Shauul now burned hotly in its tiny veins. The dragon stared through all seeing eyes as comprehension eluded him for the second time in his quest. Two tiny hands gripped fangs that had on countless occasions dealt murderous destruction upon foes none of which were forgotten to the titan. For his past imbibed him with a feeling a kin to pride. Tiny eyes mirrored his own burning brightly fiery red but infinitely smaller in the deepening darkness that had once consumed the innocent in its wake What happens next? Eirith was home to a multitude of creatures that would confound the imaginations of the best imaginers. Beings of pure fantasy demanding the most inventive mind to comprehend lived and died within the loving embrace of the Great Mother. The list was long; troll, goblin. Elves and dwarf stood among them each possessing a portion of Eirith’s potent magic. Individuals like human were simply a pawn in the thoughts of the god’s. All of these peoples stood together one move away from destruction and yet a fingertip from greatness. Sadly a darkness grew unnoticed in a land freed of greed gain and conquest for these were just a few of the driving forces created by the gods to stimulate life there. As it appeared, on the surface, all seemed well but barely detectable even by magical creatures such as Shauul the germ stirred and as of late this tiny shred of darkness began to replicate a new host would soon be found! Suddenly a hunting horn breached the night. A short burst followed quickly by a longer one caught the dragon’s attention. The infant struggled on the ground impervious to such rude interruptions. The sound gained nearness. Shauul reflexively made ready as the hackles rose on the great beasts neck. Protectively he enclosed the vulnerable child in a cage of claw instinctively to protect. A momentary feeling of puzzlement tweaked the recesses of the dragons mind. The sounds of encirclement no matter what its guise is instantly recognizable to hunted and hunter alike. This pending threat could be handled without conflict by flight or even better still destroy those that approach from the safety of the heavens. However, Shauul knew that on a full stomach, a dragon could scorch the ground for leagues before the need to feed finally overwhelmed it. On this night, the rules had been changed. Shauul must think outside mere instinct alone for now a part of his soul cowered beneath his claw. The first rock troll came to a startled halt twenty paces in front of the mighty sentinel. Broken branches entangled the brute’s hide, as it stood deathly still transfixed. In its own world, the troll was a hulking fearsome marauding brute. Tonight bathed in the fiery glow of two crimson orbs this troll appeared unsure so it remained motionless ten feet tall. The troll gaped in horror at the enormous malevolent eyes sparkling far above it. Abject terror slowly became evident on the invaders hideously cruel face. Finally, lips peeled back in a feral snarl to reveal formidable fangs in their own right. This smaller killer possessed a torso to frighten even the most battle hardy to the core. Huge muscular arms hung from enormous shoulders as the troll stood panting in horror at the ominous sight above the tree line. Unfortunately, the lone warrior had trespassed into the realm of its own destruction as steaming vapours floated skyward. A trickle of blood hot urine began to pool beneath its oversized feet. The warrior troll held up in its defence a six-foot club bound and studded with sharpened cruel spikes. Without out warning the silence was shattered anew. As the moment before conflict passed that critical moment of indecision the whole troll horde tore free of the surrounding trees. Guttural shouts followed by commands bolstered the first beast. Upon seeing the arrival of so many of its comrades, the combatant turned quickly to face the patiently awaiting dragon. The troll’s courage had returned although be it in smaller measure than before. Swiftly it transformed into the killer it was created to be. With a blood-curdling scream, the troll descended upon the first time father eying the infant beneath Shauul’s claw murderously. With contempt, it pounced bone-crunching club swinging madly about its repulsive head seeking a quick and deadly end to the most hated of all troll enemies. This was as far as it got. One minute the troll was closing quickly on Shauul howling its guttural obscenities blood raised to kill and then it suddenly disappeared. The rock troll was incinerated and consumed within a cocoon of blistering fire leaving a beacon for all to focus on. Flames as hot as Eiriths two suns combusted this overly ambitious animal. It was reduced to a blackened smoking projectile faltering once before crumbling like charred meat as it dissolved to embrace the dirt. Shauul screamed a mind-numbing roar that transformed the night in to co-ordinated chaos. A fight for life followed as the horde charged onwards. Neither foe was willing to pay the price for failure. The rock trolls attacked with a frenzy normally attributed to those possessed. From above the battlefield, the jaws of the dragon mimicked a killer’s grin. This supreme hunter blissfully absorbed the confusion below him. The dark slayer seemed to relish this onslaught even though the trolls a hundred in number hacked with cruel weaponry at the flanks of the motionless beast. A tiny thought entered the Titans mind. The child below trapped safely in his claw sent forth a feeling of defiance. Although touched by a being so insignificant the child fired the most infamous of dragon’s rage as the unstoppable hunter of the germ sensed a future malevolence in his attackers. These trolls had been tainted for hundreds of years and lastly turned by the hand of darkness. Its foul stench though faint individually became intoxicating when multiplied one hundred fold. The defilers milled about his feet. Finally, Shauul drew a deep and purposeful breath. Scorching hot fire swept the battlefield before the enormous defender. Death came in searing hot waves melting scores of smaller heartbeats in mid attack; the hope for victory still gripped these faces shortly to be replaced by deaths ghastly reply to the reckless. Jagged fangs ripped screaming morsels in two as bloody entrails whipped comrades into frenzy. The dragon slew in the most gruesome fashion any that crossed its path. Beasts screamed from every direction as anger turned quickly to agony. They fell by the dozen dismembered and beaten. Trampled under foot by their own dwindling numbers the mutilated bodies of the injured waited for their turn to greet Shauul’s deadly fangs as they hovered poised to strike from the heavens above. The body bursting force generated by the serrated and lethal serpent like tail cleared the battlefield as efficiently as a farmer’s sharpened scythe cleared ripened corn. The dragon roared a pure untainted rage far into the night sky. Flaming spouts of sulphurous combustion spewed forth unchecked and deadly illuminating the land for miles about. Stray tendrils of flame rushed skyward from the maw of the beast to seek out the heavens above. The remaining trolls embraced death noisily as furnace like eyes selected suitable victims with the sole purpose to rend flesh and to destroy. Unleash the victor for the chains to ensnare the beast would not be found this night! The mighty slayer killed with a hunger beyond feeding. Shauuls enormous claw came crashing down for the last time as his latest victim exploded. A wet claw print on the silent rock strewn plateau signalled the end. Rage slowly subsided and with it, the night returned! How can one as immense as he communicate with such a tiny life form? Shauul stared with wonderment at the infant below. All about him, the sounds of dying trolls disturbed the peace and then all fell silent. Never before had he encountered a creature like this. Shauul had travelled the land from tip to toe for countless centuries and yet he just stood there mystified. Not even daring to nuzzle the child, he took steps to keep his cavernous nostrils at a safer distance. The lord of the skies appeared fearful in case he robbed the little one of life sustaining breath. Contact normally reserved for those of his kind was a wordless feeling. The great magical beasts communicated using thoughts and emotions as one would speech. A dragon bared its soul by will alone, but now? Yet again, Shauul felt the presence of the child deep within his heart. Hunger, fear, and yet boundless love emanated from this tiny living thing. The choice had been made, the shackles with which the troll horde had tried in vain to chain him, the one great prize, lord of all Eirith had bound him heart and soul to an innocent, paths had crossed that night and were forever joined. Who are you little one? Who are you? The dragon slipped into an almost dreamlike state, its thoughts caressed the tiny invader, and the dragon song left in its wake the promise of tomorrow. For a while, the child remained silent this moment marked a milestone .The price had been met as requested. The child’s eyes glowed fiery red in response to a life regained. “I am I.” Floated a tiny thought. " This is all I know. I see you .I’m not frightened, I sense your love, already my mind swims amongst your thoughts your memories, we are one Shauul, I feel humbled by your presence I thank the gods, I will not fail them, my life is theirs to command, you fill me with hope”. Hidden from view and prying eyes. Hidden from view and prying eyes, sustained by the heat of a small fire hastily made, two figures sat silently huddled together for warmth. It had been a torturous journey. The bustling hamlet known to local folk as Halfway lay somewhere lost in the night at least four leagues distant. “I cannot take another step my love, I can feel our child grow restless inside of me, it wants its freedom, my body feels like a drum on festival day” “Do not worry little one, rest a while, we will make it before morning I promise” came the reply as two large arms encircled her for added comfort. Thomas little stood the width of two fingers short of seven feet tall. A man of imposing stature, muscle and brawn were his reward for a lifetime devoted to hard labour as weapons master and maker alike. This had tempered the man to the point where it took the cloth worn by two large men to cover his mighty person. A first time father to be, he hoped to make it to the village in plenty of time to enjoy this momentous of events. Thomas and amy his wife of three years had travelled for twelve days before disaster had overtaken the pair. They had narrowly survived a rockslide while negotiating the last pass. Thomas’s horse had been swept away screaming to be dashed to death by bone crushing boulders as the precarious pathway had simply fallen asunder. Thomas had been extremely lucky for his life had been spared at the top of the plunge. An entangling branch had ensnared his backpack jolting him free of his doomed mount. Amy’s horse had twisted a leg so badly during the rock fall that they had to put the animal out of it’s misery and continue on foot. Given their circumstances it was the only option open to them. The big man let out a small sigh barely audible to his companion. He hugged the little woman closer still and lightly kissed her forehead. “The fire should protect us from wolves and other beasts just as long as we keep it burning,” he said trying to reassure his wife as best he could. He had finally broken the silence that had grown as the darkness slyly settled around their littlefire. Not far away the night was pierced by the wail of a hunting horn, a short burst followed quickly by a longer one. Savage howls filled their thoughts, the sounds of battle consumed all within hearing distance. Above the shriek of conflict, bellowed a creature unlike any Thomas had ever heard before. A lifetime of wood lore and weapon crafting had made Thomas not only a skilled hunter but had also broadened his horizons. He thought himself a man of the world. This feeling evaporated instantly. It was quickly replaced by a cold dread he had not felt since his encounter with the Timber wolves back on Aynor. A ferocious wolf pack had left both himself and his hunting partner back then trapped in a tree for two days. Great dagger like fangs had come mere inches from claiming the life of the hapless pair. Thomas Little and Willam Stone his hunting partner had patiently tracked a small herd of Black deer high into the treacherous passes of the Widow maker, Mount Aynor. Towering inhospitable peaks had been their home for days; the promise of bounty had driven the pair on. A couple of deer would help feed the families at the settlement for many days; it was an opportunity not to be squandered. A vista of rock and scrub had taunted them. Loose shale had hindered them making the trek difficult. Small game had been scarce and more important to a tired tracker there had been precious little shelter. This had quickly turned the trip into a reckless and dangerous undertaking. “We should turn back soon if our luck doesn’t change Thomas”, the little man by his side had whispered. "I don’t think I can take much more of this damned cold.” “Just a little further Willam this gorge comes to a dead end just beyond the next rise.” Thomas had tried to encourage the normally cheerful little man. Two days on hunter’s rations had barely kept them alive and as for Thomas, the big man needed to keep himself well fuelled. Besides, he liked his meals. Hard times were to come if the deer had their way with them. They crested the rise with their bellies held as close to the dirt as possible, the chilling autumn wind greeted them drawing tears from over tired eyes. Thirty paces ahead the bedraggled deer crowded for shelter among the rocks, blissfully unaware of the danger that approached from downwind. A stag guarded its consorts jealously, defiantly stamping the foot of authority on the pebble-strewn floor of the gorge. This would be easy after all Thom thought to himself. " Two arrows and then home, lets do this quickly”. Willam and himself readied their bows as each selected a target from the herd. Thomas indicated his was to be the stag and Willam pointed to the doe nearest them standing close to the front of the pack. Silently the hunters acknowledged each other, their choices made, years of practice had made these two a formidable hunting pair. The point of release was uncertain. Both were concealed by scrub as they rose to a kneeling position, the wind still favoured the kill. Bowstrings were drawn to their fullest as the hunters carefully took aim. The moment had finally arrived. A silence was born, barely contaminated, but by the howl of the autumn wind. Trees already losing their summer foliage stood like curious bystanders, they were to be the only witnesses to this encounter. Suddenly a savage howl froze both men to the spot, arms started to tire for they were unable to let fly the arrows that the settler’s future relied so heavily upon. Then without warning two- dozen pony sized shadows burst clear of the surrounding undergrowth. Teeth the likes of which could only be used for murder clamped down on all within their grasp. Startled deer were hoisted into the air by slavering jaws; backbones snapping like dried tinder were only a few of the dread filled sounds heard that day. A killing frenzy quickly ensued, the two hunters dropped like stones to the ground, this was bad very very bad. Both men took stock of the situation and a decision was silently reached, retreat at once and quickly. A last backward glance revealed the pitiful attempts of the stag to bring some order to this slaughter. It lowered its crown of horn to make a final bid to survive the day. Bloody remains were all that was left of its herd. All around him lay familiar bodies, parts of which looked so different today day amongst the ruins of its herd. Wolves ripped and tore mouthfuls of quivering hot flesh from the downed animals. Livers and lungs were ripped free from savage wounds as fresh blood sprouted rivulets among the scree-strewn floor of the Widow Maker. The pack had ruthlessly decimated a once vibrant herd. With a spine chilling demonic growl, the largest wolf Thomas had ever seen appeared from out of nowhere to split the pack violently asunder. Snapping wildly, it restored order to the attackers. It eyed the stag for a single moment a pitiful salute to the brave, the only respite given. A dark feral intelligence flickered briefly in the huge beasts golden eyes as it raised its enormous black head and howled insanely into the air. Haunting eerie echoes filled the mountains as Thomas remained was rooted to the ground, his legs simply would not cooperate something was very wrong. The wind shifted noticeably as the beast’s hungry eyes turned in his direction to focus greedily on his own. This was it; a monumental moment in life had been thrust upon him. This would shape him; change his perception of the real world. All that was important in life boiled down to simply avoiding an untimely end. Everything else was a bonus to the hunted. The wolf stood its ravenous ground as blackened hackles sprang erect, an almost supernatural gleam shone from its golden soulless eyes, a killer’s eyes. Teeth exploded into view as canines as long as claws were unmasked. The wolfs trademark became an insane grin as flesh tearing fangs snapped at air about it. It efficiently held command of its troops by an ever-increasing hormonal anger that continually rose within him. It intensified the warnings designed by nature to transfix either its followers or its prey. Fetid wolven vapours steamed in the cold of the day as they drifted slowly across the killing ground in an untidy and continuous cloud. The pack remained silent apart from the occasional nervous outbreaks from a few of the younger wolves. They already bore the scars inflicted in order to maintain its leaders iron rule. The stag suddenly took this opportunity to make its final bid for freedom, maddened by loss it charged at the ferocious wolf leader that had focused its attentions elsewhere. An error on the stag’s behalf came to late to be undone; the huge flesh ripping jaws turned with sickening speed to greet its assailant. Thomas and Willam had by now made good their escape, hurtling back down the gorge at a full run; the fear of the damned dogged their backs. Giant jaws seized the stag by the throat as hot lifeblood under pressure squirted free adding sureal deadliness to the scene. The pack hungrily sprang in for the kill. Minutes later a head complete with crown of horn with eyes glazed over in death, lolled to one side. The pack howled dementedly in unison for the foulest of deeds had indeed been done. Climbing had always been difficult for Thomas Little. At just under seven feet tall his body was not designed for all the squirming and wriggling one needed to do even as an adequate climber of trees. That day was different though and his technique was different too. He launched himself at the nearest branch within reach. His momentum powered him clear of the ground. Legs that momentarily dangled for fangs to seize were quickly drawn up with an agility that his companion had not believed possible. Willam followed closely on his heels, but being nearly a full two feet shorter made Thomas’s feat an uncertainty for the little sprinter. Leaping wildly arms flailing Thomas just managed to grab his collar and hoist him free from a multitude of gnashing teeth. The rabid pack led by its savage leader launched ferociously at the hunters who were by now panting heavily in the branches a little way above a horrible death. “I would have made it,” gasped Willam . “I’ve always been a better climber than you, you great big lummox.” Thomas smiled at his companion and for a moment, fears were forgotten, and then both men howled with laughter. Below them, the pack went berserk! For two days, the hunted men just sat there. By now, conversations had been totally exhausted and the water skins long since emptied, the two men resorted to staring dumbly for hours at a time at the waiting killers. Two days of rest and fornication followed till finally the pack grew visibly restless. The quarry in the trees posed an unfixable dilemma to the ferocious pack leader. The unfortunate pair had reached the point of total despair. If this continued any longer, they were done for. Without water, they could not last more than a few more days. As if in answer to one of Willams pleadings to the gods, the lead wolf stretched its enormous lean black body, cast one last baleful look at the men and then loped away. The hunt began a fresh. If it wished to remain leader, it must find its brethren easier prey and be quick about it. “What now great hunter?” Willam broke the silence. “Home I guess, unless you plan to live in this tree and marry a squirrel.” Both men smiled and made grateful signs to the gods before leaving their second home behind. That had happened many autumns ago and Thomas recalled this dark night that he and Willam Stone had never bothered the Widow maker since. “What are those creatures out there Thomas? I’m half scared to death .Those howls are not natural what are they?” “Nothing to worry yourself over little one, they sound occupied, besides nothing will approach a campfire.” Thomas said this as one hand reached out to add fuel to their dwindling blaze. One last great roar filled the night bringing terror to its climax; a blinding light instantly consumed the darkness and then disappeared leaving a subliminal imprint of their surroundings on Thomas’s mind. The big man climbed awkwardly to his feet sword at the ready as he peered into the new darkness for his night sight was all but ruined. “That was unexpected,” he managed to say. "I don't think this campfires going to be big enough." Immediately he berated himself for adding to Amy's fear. His hastilly thought out plan seemed straightforward and practical. It was better to investigate what was out there before it came looking for them. “Amy I’m going to take a quick look around I wont go to far I promise, no more than a few minutes." With this he left not wishing to hear her reply. Knowing what it would be he crept noiselessly into the night. Darkness swallowed the weapons master’s thoughts; right now, he did not feel so confident even though he carried his favourite sword, which had been honed to a razors edge on both sides by his own expert hand. Years of tracking and hunting mixed with endless hours of training only helped to even the odds on a night like this. Thomas Little thankfully was a little more than just an ordinary traveller. A mans luck would soon be tested, the consequences unmentionable if found wanting. Fumbling about in the dark. Even a little patience testing man like Willam stone would have been welcoming company tonight Thomas thought to himself while fumbling about in the dark. A branch caught him square on the tip of his nose, he cursed under his breath for indeed that would have missed Willam and left Thomas the victim of the little mans annoying humour. This thought brought a smile too” Think positive man” he muttered to himself. As always the annoying little voice that plagues a man at the most inopportune times echoed the words” You are positively going to break your neck Little ” Not knowing which way to proceed he lumbered on making sure to leave trail markers that may at worst prove impossible to relocate in the dark, but leave them he must. Small bits of cloth ripped from an undershirt that had once been white was the best he could manage at such short notice. The down side to this plan he realised was that if something were to go wrong he had left a clear trail back to Amy. Thick trees made glancing at the sky a complete waste of time, so he decided to study the ground beneath his feet instead. He occasionally re orientated himself by feeling about the enormous boles of the trees for tell tale signs of moss growth an old hunters trick he had used more than once before. If he kept the damp moss all facing the same way, he should be able to find his way back later. Thomas finally stumbled upon a clearing in the forest after a lot of wandering; all was deadly quiet, the worst kind of quiet. The clearing and its darkness took on a slightly reddish hue as he cautiously made his way to its centre. The smells of battle and the stench of over cooked meats assaulted his senses. The fire red glow that bathed the trunks of the tall trees may be coming from campfires he assumed. He thought about this for a moment as little alarm bells subconsciously jingled his mind. The soft hairs on the back of his neck slowly began to rise. ” This is a mistake,” he said almost out loud, as he came to a stop. One large foot slipped on something soft and slippery and he toppled over to land heavily on his back. The sword he was carrying was unavoidably lost to its owners grip. He cursed his stupidity and blindly felt about for his weapon. With luck it should be within hands reach from the place he had held it only moments before. His hand touched cold steel as he lay on his back with both eyes still facing a gap in the canopy some ways above him. Relief flooded his rattled mind.” Pick it up fool” he said to no one in particular. He was unable to do so, for its previous owner minus all but one arm, was still attached to the handle of the weapon. Thomas cursed his luck, it had all been bad of late first the horses and now this, he worried more than ever about Amy and his unborn child. His attention focused on two red stars that adorned the sky visible now through the gap in the trees. Far above him, the fiery orbs hovered and then suddenly disappeared to reappear a split second later. This happened repeatedly and Thomas just lay there motionless transfixed by this curious phenomenon. “What in damnation is….”His words were cut short as the stars fell slowly from the sky to settle once more a little closer this time. Yellow iris’s bathed him in an unnatural glow as the red hue he had grown accustomed to dispersed from the clearing. Hot breath fuelled by the dying embers of battle lust brought a little too much warmth for the unlucky Mr.Littles cold body. Iris’s soon faded to black, as an enormous head appeared illuminated by the light of Eiriths rising moons. Close enough the ferocious face advanced for Thomas to audibly make his peace with his creator. A deep breath was drawn in by the beast and exhaled with gale force ease. This process was repeated but slower and more purposefully a second time. Thomas Little was frozen to the moment; being buried naked neck deep in ice would have had a less mind numbing effect on the man. His hand gripped the hand that was still attached to the troll sword. The enormous creature growled in return. The effect was so chilling that Thomas released his grip on the sword way before his mind had time to communicate with his offending hand. Compared to the teeth only feet from his face the sword was definitely the wrong choice of weapon to use in this situation. Minutes passed, all of which were excruciatingly uncomfortable to the downed man. Fluids expelled from Thomas’s body only seconds before started to soak in and irritate his nether region. His body began to rebel as his heart laboured under the influx of so much adrenaline. He wondered why on Eirith did he think such lame thoughts at such a ridiculous time as this. “I suppose there is little chance that you do not see me,” he said as the dragon sniffed about him. Again, a look akin to puzzlement crossed Shauuls face. Here before him was another one of these creatures, this time older larger and hairier. The dragon paused for the thing sprawled before him was definitely not troll or goblin! Fortunately, for Thomas Little, the dragon’s curious nature again got the better of him. The outcome of this confrontation was suspended by the sound of Amy’s searching cries. Thomas turned his head in her direction, fear like nothing he had ever felt before, even the encounter with the wolves terrifying as it was did not prepare him for this. His wife and unborn child stumbled into plain view at the edge of the clearing. She hesitated, then to Thomas’s utter dismay she let out a terrified scream. The dragon’s eyes glowed crimson red once again and the fiery radiance revealed the clearing in every direction. The twisted broken bodies of the troll horde lay scattered like broken crockery about the shadows of this truly enormous beast. Thomas gaped at the scene as he rose slowly to look about dismembered charred and gruesomely mutilated monsters lay strewn about the battlefield. Some had been squashed completely flat; they were unrecognisable now as Amy fell to her knees clutching her swollen belly. “Thomas help me, I need you, where are you, it is time!” She was oblivious now to the carnage; the price of birthing took full control of her body. Death reached out to touch her heart with icy needle like claws. It probed cruelly one last time before she was engulfed in to a world of agony. The vicelike numbing in her heart dwarfed the pain of the contractions as her body sought to expel the infant at all cost. Though the encounter was new to the dragon, he sensed the little woman’s unborn child struggling to make its way into the world. He was captivated, lost in spite of himself and his nature. The woman’s fears and pain washed through and over him. Memories of her life alongside the man before him flooded the dragon as he struggled to find the evil taint that as always fired his hunger, there was none. His gaze shifted to the man now standing before him. He was thoughtful for a moment as he entered the little mans mind hoping to find some sign of evil there, an easy end to this unfolding drama. He absorbed all thoughts hopes and fears, devouring memories both good and bad with a hunger that startled even the lord of Eirith. Thomas’s existence, his encounter with the wolves his saving of Willam from slavering jaws was but one of many noble deeds this man had done throughout his life. Jumbled stolen thoughts jostled one another to find order in Shauuls mind one word fought to command all others. “Human” he uttered at last in a deep rumbling voice that caught even Shauul off guard. Those were the first words a dragon had ever uttered in his lifetime! Shamuel “Human” The thoughts reflected by the tiny soul still protectively enclosed in his great talon. Understanding replaced anger; a solution to his own predicament concerning the babe now lay within his grasp. Suddenly the child cried for the company of its own kind. Shauul turned to Thomas and took a slow deep breath before releasing him from his control, the eyes flickered briefly, and the flames of wrath subsided. Knowing now what he must do Shauul lifted his protective claw to reveal the child concealed within, part of him was pulsating through the veins of this tiny infant, such a fragile and vulnerable little thing. He sifted through Thom’s memories again and purposefully with care plucked a scale from an area covering his heart and placed it, with much difficulty in to the outstretched hands of his adopted son, for that is what the human child had now become. He surveyed the area once more and brought forth his last human words meant for the child alone ”Shamuel al Thor itz me” You are Shamuel Wolfs bane Dragon heart” Shauul turned to Thomas and silently passed the infant into his charge by taking several steps backward. As readied his great bulk for flight Thomas gathered the child in his arms the dragon’s words still echoing in his mind, the infant was now bound to the Littles for all time. With a deafening roar, Shauul fired the heavens and with one monstrous effort launched his great bulk into the night sky. The hunt that had consumed his selfless existence up till now continued! What happened your hair? Thomas quickly comforted the tiny bundle holding it to his chest as he struggled to regain his composure. Despite all that had happened, the only thoughts that he could muster at that particular moment are those concerning Amy. He found her in a crumpled heap amongst the troll dead. Her body remained unmoving her face a peaceful painting amid the ruin surrounding what was left of the living. Tears filled his eyes and almost blinded the big man as he placed his bundle with care into the little woman’s lifeless out stretched arms. The unmoving lady did not stir, she seemed merely sleeping, but in the half-light of the approaching dawn, the scene took on an unreal edge to it. Sad songs were provided by a choral tribute from early birds that signalled the start of all new dawns. The world as he knew it had irrevocably changed forever. All that he cared for and cherished lay alarmingly still at his feet amid the scene of carnage that had marked the monstrous creatures passing, but these were thoughts for another time. Life began anew at this time of day; life forms lucky enough to have avoided the sharp teeth and claws of the hunter during the night, ventured forth to continue the struggle that will eventually consume them all. A fox sneaked out through the dense damp undergrowth as it furtively sniffed the air eying the fresh meat with obvious interest, a feast for all. It wandered about for a moment then seemed to change its mind to disappear once again, three cubs followed suit. All this was barely noticeable to Thomas Little. He paid scant attention to the scene, save to praise the vixen for displaying such good sense, when many others would have gorged the innocent on the tainted flesh. “Best left to those that are more suited to the task,” he shouted after her all the same. The tall hunter shivered as his attentions passed back to Amy as he focussed on the child still snuggled in his wife’s cold embrace. Clutching the blackened scale to its chest the fires that had mirrored the dragon’s minutes before were slowly receding from its eyes. Its cry’s were a tiny voice out of place here. “Mother” it called as it turned in Amy’s lifeless arms to face the little woman; sightless orbs lost to this world greeted it in return. ”Mother” the child called once more and then fell silent. Still rooted to where he stood, Thomas knelt beside the pair, tears falling freely; grief tightened its smothering grip about his heart, threatening to pull him deeper into despair. He fumbled about gathering the small bundle to him and for the first time noticed; the heart shaped dragon scale clutched in little Shamuels hands. Like a tiny piece of midnight, it grew darker as the morning rays sought to illuminate it. “What have you got there little one” Thomas asked as he reached for the object for closer examination, but on doing so the dragon scale glowed briefly then shimmered and disappeared. Surely, a trick of the mind considering what had happened here this night he mumbled to himself. In the morning light his thoughts turn darker still as he set about the unpleasant task he had yet to undertake. He must find somewhere safe to bury his wife preferably well a way from here. He stood up to survey his surroundings casting about for somewhere to place his beloved to rest. “Thomas what has happened to your hair” a small voice broke the silence. Without thinking he replied, “What do you mean woman” “Your hair it’s as white as the driven snow my love” came the reply. Slowly the weapons master turned about to face the voice, heart in his mouth, feelings of loss still wracked his tortured soul. No longer able to take the strain of hope he looked directly into the eyes of his greatest love whom only moments before had fled the world of the living. Still thinking it was but a dream he stared for long moments at his wife and child. Amy appeared to be Amy, no longer glazed over in death, her eyes shone with renewed vitality any evidence that she was to give birth only hours before had gone, she looked the picture of health as she held Shamuel close to her bosom. “Well? Cat got your tongue man,” she added in a voice filled with a knowing edge to it. “What devilry has befallen us, I cant stand this any longer, it is more than a god fearing man should have to bear in ten lifetimes” he exclaimed as he marshalled his thoughts but seeing the look in Amy’s eyes was enough to convince him that some questions were better left unanswered, for now. Old and the new The trip to Halfway was immediately resumed in earnest; the couple barely said more than two words along the way. Both had a lot to think about, answers would be found in the days ahead, they both silently hoped. Morning found them making slow but determined progress along the pitted and beaten track that connected anywhere to somewhere Eirith was a relatively new land for humans. They as a race had finally conquered Widows Breach; this treacherous impassable flooded gorge mirrored its namesake the Widow maker for consuming unwary or just plain foolish travellers. For though the Breach was deadly, The Widow Maker guardian of the Northern pass had finally been breached and tamed by man. The Breach itself divided two landmasses far to the north in Eirith and far to the south in Thomas’s parent’s homeland. It was incredibly deep for a gorge a full three leagues down and twenty leagues wide from edge to edge. From a distance the gorge looked like a knife had cut into the very plateau of Mount Aynor giving it the appearance that a very angry God had created it to keep these land masses separated for a good reason. As it happened in matters concerning man, sheer determination and a generous helping of good fortune revealed a series of caves high up in the Widow maker but low enough to traverse the gorge from below without fear of drowning. That discovery had taking twenty summers to bear fruit. Of the two thousand expeditionary personnel assembled for the task, one hundred and ninety men and woman made it to the other side, Thomas’s mother and father numbered amongst the living. All Thomas was told of his parents past was that they originated in a large settlement called Haven on the southwestern tip of the old world. Thomas grew up in its sister settlement called Newhaven aptly named as a mark of respect for those that had perished in the tunnels beneath the Breach. They were just a memory behind them now the Breach still claimed lives; its waters were deadly. Ripping tides rushed through the defile to destroy all within its path without mercy. At particularly bad times of the year, devastating high tides could flood parts of the tunnel killing anything found within. As of late this had worsened, the old world for now was but a memory to Eiriths invaders. Those that had made through the early crossings would be the only new visitors for now. Still Newhaven blossomed and had grown in the years that had followed; both Thomas’s parents had prospered and died well there, twenty leagues from the Breach. Thomas’s father had been a fine blacksmith by any craftsman’s standards, loved by all, a melder of metals; he raised his son in his boot prints. Thomas had the gift too it seemed and people said he outshone Master little when it came to forging weapons. Many sought his talents the man was fast becoming a legend in his own world, but this was now behind him. Thirty-seven summers spent in Newhaven crafting and training in the arts of war and conflict forged Thomas till the settler’s high council acknowledged him as weapons master. Twenty thousand men and women crowded the town to bursting point and he was the only man to have ever received this coveted title. Amy he had met later than he would have wished for in his life, she was ten summers his junior but from the time they first set eyes on each other they had both realized that they had found the one each had been looking for. She had worked for a year at the local tavern frequented by a host of young men, it was aptly called The Hitching post and she had met Thomas Little after he had broken up a brawl that had all but destroyed the taverns only common room. Life had become too eventful in the town so Halfway seemed the likely option for the pair. The name Halfway was a bit of a local talking point, but the name stuck anyway. The settlement was thirty leagues from the town of Newhaven in an uncharted wilderness that stretched further than the horizon that is how the name had caught on. Half ways to god knows where the settlers would often say! Today he and Amy continued to trudge the last few leagues towards their destination. The town was rumoured to have its own blacksmiths for it was a coveted title a sure way to make money wherever one decided to settle. Thomas thought about this for a moment he had savings enough to last them through the worst to come and after the recent events, he cannot imagine ever complaining again. He has had a belly full today. He was a new man not withstanding his white hair, the world was a good place to live in after all, and so he approached the settlement with renewed enthusiasm. Beside him Amy, walked the child still cradled in her arms her little peace of heaven or so it seemed. Thomas was worried about their recent encounter particularly as to what had happened their real baby their own flesh and blood. His wife looked even younger to him now she seemed oblivious to anything but little Shamuel who gazed as only a child could, lovingly into his mother’s eyes. A family secret was born; the events of today would remain closely guarded. For knowledge was power. Thomas took a deep breath as the smell of freshly baked bread drew him onwards he too felt the vigour’s of youth. A little voice reminded him to find out exactly what had happened in the forest last night. Halfway to where? It seemed like a busy little town evidence of early risers everywhere. The settlement itself lay nestled on an island situated on a fork in an otherwise uncross able river .A retractable bridge made of well-seasoned timbers stood invitingly before the small party. On closer inspection, it seemed the only way to enter or leave the town. Thomas smiled admiringly at the handy work” these are an industrious people Amy we should do well here”. At the foot of the bridge, barring their way stood two guards. Both were large brutish looking men, though the largest was a full head shorter than Thomas little. Two big war hounds stood to attention teeth clearly bared in a menacing fashion, one on either side of the guards. “Good day to you man and to your fine lady” one of the two men said eying the pair with obvious disdain. “Why might you be wanting to cross into Halfway?” he asked the travellers, the question had a slightly disrespecting air to it. Thomas stared at the two dogs for long moments, as distant memories were recalled a lesson to the wise. “Myself and my good wife have need of food and shelter, we have travelled a long and hard road from New Haven and we lost our horses on the way” Before the guard could respond Thomas added, “We have coin to pay our way we are not beggars.” This clearly irritated the two guardsmen, though they were armed they brought the dogs to attention. Thomas felt an old fear haunting him as a sinking feeling gripped the pit of his stomach. “What’s in the bundle miss” the other guard took the initiative steeling an authority from his companion. All around them the busy happy sounds of the settlement added to the confusion of the situation. Children could be seen playing catch on the streets, men gathered on street corners laughing occasionally making friendly hand gestures. Thomas was disappointed and it was plainly etched across his face. “Answer or turn around pilgrim” the first guard retook charge of the situation; satisfaction was evident on his grinning unshaven face. Thomas made a move to stop Amy but she smiled and said” Its alright Thomas they are just doing their jobs.” Thomas smiled in spite of his rising temper, the insult by Amy would have the desired effect on the guards and it did, that was what he loved about her. She often used this tactic on her husband as a last resort to win arguments and it really irritated the big man. It worked, both guards lost all their former pleasantness, which meant they became down right rude to the travellers. Before it, escalated any further Amy opened the bundle to show them what it was she carried. Immediately the two war hounds reacted with unexpected ferocity, both tore wildly at their chains, not to attack the travellers but to escape from them at any cost. Maddened beyond control they twisted and turned in their master’s grips seeking their freedom as their demented howls shattered the peace resting over Halfway. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare in wonder .The children on the streets stopped playing and this was followed by the group of men who only minutes before had been caught up in some side splitting story, the smiles frozen on their startled faces. Shamuel lay in full view of the guards. A little boy was lying naked in his mother’s arms. Bright piercing eyes of the deepest blue focused on the two dog handlers. Suddenly the beasts gave up their protests and cowered submissively prostrating themselves before the strangers. Shamuel smiled as the two guards stared at the child’s breast. Thomas was speechless; he followed their gaze to his newfound son not daring to think what he might discover. His eyes came to rest on the boy who lay there smiling he was the picture of health. Blonde hair and blue eyes framed a laughing smile designed by Mother Nature to melt ones heart. “The heart” he stammered. For there in plain view for all to see was the dragons scale as dark as pitch. It was embedded in the boy’s chest covering his heart, as a soldier would expect his breastplate to do. Amy seized the initiative and hoisted Shamuel into the air kissing him fondly. The two guards stood back as Thomas casually covered the child’s torso with the blanket” It’s a birth mark Amy’s brother had it as well it will disappear in good time” The guards were unsure of what to do, then they simply stood aside, the first guard said in a more polite tone of voice” Welcome to Halfway sir” and then with a smile he greeted Amy as if they were old friends. As soon as they crossed the bridge, they mingled with startled on lookers. They seemed unsure not knowing for certain what had actually happened as they stood around and stared with open mouths. Halfway was a curios collection of dwellings that appeared to be haphazardly placed as if each home had fallen from the sky with the rains. There was no apparent order to the buildings as far as Thomas could make out, but a caring hand had clearly built each of them. Thatched roofs added to the pungent smell created by herb and vegetable gardens it seemed to Thomas that every home possessed one. Brightly painted woodwork gave the travellers a festive impression but their minds were focused on just one thing. Thomas walked up to a group of men standing in the shade of an overhanging roof. “Good day to you gentlefolk my wife and I have travelled from Newhaven and seek lodgings, one with out a hostelry will do, we lost both our horses on our journey” Thomas’s words should have meant little save for the bit about the loss of their horses. If there was one thing, a man respected more than his woman out here on the frontier was a good horse. Without a horse, a man could not call himself a man in Halfway that was for sure for the beasts were the lifeblood of the community. Many of the group offered to guide them to suitable lodgings but the largest man who stood far above the rest, a man nearly but not quite as tall as Thomas spoke out in a deep booming voice. “Hey mister what happened your hair, looks like you’ve seen a ghost”? Some of the men in the group laughed, their minds attuned to more entertaining possibilities. Thomas Little was a fighter by nature and a man to be best avoided if he had that look in his eye. Today he did not and he offered his hand in friendship to the outspoken giant saying” You must be the blacksmith everyone talks about in Newhaven” he congratulated the big man in a totally disarming way and then added” My name is Thomas Little I’m glad to make your acquaintance my good man” That is all it took. The confrontation never happened. However, for some it was a fearsome prospect to relish. Two giants thrashing one another on the street in front of them would make a story long remembered and never forgotten. Errugel king of disasters. Errugel was furious. Jet-black fist sized eyes bulged alarmingly beneath heavy bone hard growths that served him for eyebrows. They perched menacingly on a huge bulbous head. The organs he drew breath through could loosely be described as nostrils. Two fleshy tears in their stead flapped madly as the troll king screamed his frustrations with an unsettling audible wheeze. Spittle sprayed freely over the prostrate gathering as the maddened king mercilessly clubbed one of his own into a succulent pulpy mess. The sickening sound of hardened timber crushing bone continued long after the unfortunate troll had expired. If this was not bloody enough, the king dropped the gore-encrusted bludgeon and reached for its victim’s head. With enormous trunk like arms, he seized both ears and savagely twists. Firstly, far to the left and then upon reaching the opposite side he gave the head a sickening tissue tearing jerk to make his point clear to the terrified onlookers. The whole troll horde screamed in absolute terror as the stench of body functions no longer respectful to their owners brought this final show of power to near conclusion by the enraged king. With one effortless tug, he pulled the murdered head free from the sanctuary of its body. Within moments, the hall is in turmoil and it quickly emptied except for the insane king and his headless subject. He stared at the murdered head for a moment longer before dashing it to pieces on the bony armrest of his throne. Blood and gore were no discomfort to this monster as he sat casually on the great bone seat built by his forefathers. The giant troll placed a foot on the headless victim then rested the other alongside. Enjoying his newfound comfort he then said out loud in a guttural slur” m’aathre volre ishmla, at least you are of some us to me now” as expected no body replied! Magic empowered this monster it pulsated from the mound towering behind him. As a trolling nearly seventy winters past, he had stood out from the rest of the youngsters in many ways. For one, he had been extraordinarily large for his age, which in itself was an advantage over his kin. Errugel had been born into the cruellest nation on Eirith. Fortunately, he possessed legendary strength and notorious savagery. What savagery this was. Trolls of a similar age still suckled their mothers and played in the dirt while Errugel looked upon them in open contempt. Fully-grown male trolls each weighing as much as a heavily laden wagon would regularly leave their stronghold to plunder their domain. Often lesser species of troll of smaller sizes would be butchered for sport if any were unlucky enough to be captured. Travellers spitted whilst still amongst the living would keep hunting parties entertained for many minutes as they hung over their cook fires. This of course depended on the victims and on how carefully they were impaled on the troll’s crude cooking devices. These monsters were amazed as to how long some of their victims managed to cling to life almost in fact to the point where the flesh had to be consumed quickly before it became over cooked. A great favourite among the troll was the young for this flesh was always the most succulent and best consumed raw. On the occasion when one was captured it was immediately returned to the City of Bones to be greedily devoured by the current ruler for that was the law and all trolls feared the one who made that law. This tradition had begun in earnest with Errugel, as did most of the traditional depravities. Today Errugel had been given the news that the slayer had destroyed over one hundred of his troll bulls. This news had unhinged the brute, climaxing in another one of his notorious blood fests. Days would often pass before the raiders could return through the high passes of the Harridon. Plunder of any value to the unskilled populace of Baalanthull- simply meaning in the common tongue- city of bones, was dragged before their lord king. Gathering around huge campfires at night the troll brave boasted of their exploits guttural to the untrained ear but to those that knew better the eyes spoke loudest for the troll. They killed, they ate or they rutted, sometimes all three at the one time. Emotions such as those were quite easy to read in such beasts. They lacked any form of grace or subtly .A coherent language was almost unimportant, so no culture existed and they had earned the hatred of many powerful enemies. On one particular night, seventy winters ago a large gathering had settled around a roaring campfire. A formidable and aggressive male had made himself the centre of attention by hammering its huge chest with its fists while it bellowed into the cold night sky. It was responsible for capturing the beast that had provided the fresh meat now cooking near to the edge of the fire. Spitted while it still possessed its hide and innards it slowly turned over the flames, it was a creature normally avoided by troll. The pounding of huge war drums could be heard echoing through the night adding to the building tension already in the air. These huge drums were made from the skins of beasts captured on the hunt. Troll butchered victims then stretched their hides while they were still soft and supple. This added to the booming tone of the huge drums for the skins remained flexible and responsive to the trolls that pounded them night and day. The creature spitted that night had been a hunter of troll and unlike its winged cousin from the far south this smaller land bound dragon a pitiful thirty strides long did not wield elemental powers. It relied solely upon tooth and claw to finish off troll stragglers, which it regularly did with cat like grace and hunger. That night however it had clearly lost the battle between being food and feeding. The mighty troll that continued to display in clear view of Errugel had caught it mysteriously while it slept. It had been ambushed and slain completely unaware, this was the troll way. Errugel looked on; his contempt grew with every moment that passed the very sight of so many females offering themselves to this mighty hunter boiled his blood. As the overbearing warrior lifted the head of the slain dragon, it gloated at the beast’s lifeless staring eyes. Errugel casually walked up behind the troll with a purpose known only to the future king. With a calmness that left onlookers frozen, he grabbed the larger troll and with a ferocious scream picked the larger bull up. With a mighty display of brute strength he launched him far into the inferno. The dragon slayer burst into flame as his skin blistered in the intense heat. Coarse hair started to shrivel quickly. It attempted to stand and flee the furnace. Totally new sounds escaped the beast that night. Gone was the cocky bellowing that had promised favour to the females. It was replaced with howls of excruciating pain as the victim shared the experience of being cooked alive a pastime it had so relished before this night. Errugel reached for a heavy club and proceeded to batter the fireball with an evil murdering intensity every time his victim managed to clear the flames. It took quite a while and startled onlookers just sat and stared dumfounded. Eventually the troll warrior ceased in its struggles and fell to its knees. Roasting flames consumed him. Errugel immediately launched himself into the blaze to pummel what was left of his rival into the ashes. Pounding drums, which had fallen silent, resumed their beat with renewed vigour matching the troll king stroke for stroke, then they ceased abruptly. Errugel returned from the flames without a singed hair or blister to be seen. Immediately the drums resumed their hypnotic booming and charged the night with echoes of a madness yet to come. Trolls went wild as the dragon only freshly spitted and raw was torn from its mounts and consumed by the maw full while other troll males violated lustful females. Errugel youngest king of the troll nation was born that very night, he too for the second time it seemed .Who if any would stand before him. That was seventy winters ago. Tonight he sat alone. This time it was on his enormous, crudely fashioned throne made from four enormous bleached white bones set with little skill into the full skull of a once mighty dragon. For seventy years, he had ruled this mob of dogs he muses. Yet, he had not aged a single day. Hundreds of Troll young he had sired all to perish within their first ten winters. With every death, his rage grew darker. I want that newborn he growled to himself. I want that newborn he repeated. He clenched boulder like fists together and pounded his chest.” I want that newborn,” His screams echoed mocking him repeating the words born, born, born. Seeing the remains of the mutilated head resting peacefully on the ground before him, he bent down and slowly picked it up with contempt. He stared into its sightless eyes losing him in darkest thoughts. A vision gripped the king as the lifeless eyes transfixed him. Time passed slowly as he saw Shauul and then the human Thomas Little and last of all little Amy. Slowly a smile invaded his terrifying toothy grin. The next words uttered were best forgotten. ”Shamuel” He saw the maddening sight of Shauul his most bitter foe removing something from his breast. Errugel concentrated as hard as his limited intelligence would allow. For the second time tonight, his melon sized eyes bulged alarmingly. A tiny white heart shaped gap appeared in the legendary armour of the Black Slayer. Slowly a grin split his profoundly ugly face, as he wondered whether he might have been a little too hasty killing the only troll survivor from this encounter. Head discarded by flinging it far from his noble person, his own head now settled on his massive fists. For the first time in many years, the troll king pondered his options. Erruel and his horse Erruel and Oriin a more normal pair of lads you are never likely to meet. Both a little over twenty-five summers old. They were invariably found in each other’s company. Even down to their woodsman’s garb, they looked and acted like brothers. Everybody in the village of Trilling Brooks Rise had their suspicions that this pair was behind all the little mishaps and happenings around the locality. For one thing, pies were going astray. Once they were left out in the open air to cool they just disappeared no matter how well guarded they may be! It remained a mystery. In addition, both these young men were clearly on the chubby side of thin making them prime suspects among the villagers. The fact that the two were a little too well fed added to their near comical appearance. Erruel was instantly recognizable by his wiry unkempt red hair and his scraggly patchy beard. These were his trademarks. Oriin on the other hand was a mass of freckles on an otherwise hairless cheery face. Both carried double bladed axes and at their sides, sharp hunting knives hung from heavy leather belts. This fine autumn morning as the eager suns climbed out of bed they were ready to take on the world. “What a lousy cook Dame Brundles turning out to be. I’m thinking of asking her why she’s putting so much salt in them meat pies of hers of late” Orrin said with a grin to his partner in crime. “Though it did not stop you eating the last one before I could get my fingers crusty, did it? Hog breath! Orrin added indignantly. “Well then how am I going to get big enough to ride a horse if I don’t steal a pie or two now and then?”Erruel replied. “A horse”Oriin blurts out holding his sides as he howled with laughter. “You aint never even seen a horse Erruel why do you keep pretending that you have,” “I have, you know I have. Don’t you start poking fun at me you shiny headed pie stealing runt or I’ll knock you down on your backend again” Erruel looked wounded by Orrin’s last remark. “Hey, who are you calling shiny head I wear my hair this short for all the girls. They always call out to tell me what beautiful ears I have.” Orrin took his hair or lack of hair very seriously and his mood took a downward plunge from there on. Erruel looked at the enormous pair of lobes that nearly framed Oriins face. To him they looked more like two large slabs of cured bacon pinned without planning to his dear friends balding round head. He never mentioned the ears for although his friend had the finest hearing in the Brook rivalled only by the hunting dogs of the gatherers who funnily enough have smaller ears, he was acutely aware of the boundaries friendship must recognize. His feelings for this funny little man have forged an unbreakable bond since child hood. This was the real reason they were thought of as brothers and fortunately, this was where the likeness ended. Erruel was one of the tallest men in Trilling Brook at just a hairs breath under five feet tall. He had a knack for bringing horses into every conversation. Oriin numbered a poor second in stature at a modest four feet six. This meant Erruel stood out among the rest of the dwarves in the village even without the aid of his comical and unkempt red hair. The two boisterous dwarfs continued to goad each other as they crossed the bridge to join many others on their trek to the mines, which were hidden deep in the Two Brothers wood. This vast and unusual area of woodland was so named for deep within its depths stood two giant oak trees. They guarded the entrance to the dwarves mine. These trees were older by far than the little miners, but lightening struck both many years ago. The strikes had happened at the same time on the same evening ending the trees uneventful lives. Today what remained of the oaks was far more impressive than just ordinary foliage. Both lightning bolts had melded a likeness to their namesakes even adding a certain dignity to the pair’s transformation. Two-twisted giants stood in their place now. Huge outstretched arms were held pleadingly before them. Twisted and blackened they looked like two giants trying to escape rather than two giants trying to guard. Bickering companions were but a few of many to make this early morning trek day after day. The two friends came to a stop by the twisted boles. They both gazed respectfully at the shapes before them each were lost in silent thought. Erruel turned his head slightly not taking his eyes from the waiting sentinels” I have heard talk of those that be as tall as these two” “Please tell me this is not a horse thing” Oriin regarded his friend and thought to himself what a dull place this would be without you, a smile appeared on his serious face. “All I said was I would like to ride a horse, what’s the harm in that?” “A big mans got to have big dreams, life isn’t all about mining and stealing pies Orrin Tarrinforde” Mischief was clearly written in large letters all over his face a carrot to a donkey and as usual, Oriins eyes brightened in response. “And what might you be thinking about” Orrin asked slyly. “What about taking a closer look at that old mine shaft they all keep talking about” “Mmmmm. Now that’s a good idea I am glad you said it and not me" “Why?”Erruel asked. “So I can tell the elders I went a long with you to make sure you didn’t bump your head and lose your way as you always do” Both dwarfs instantly forgot about horses, brothers, and pies as they disappeared with purposeful strides into the mines, and began this long awaited adventure. Two vertically challenged explorers gathered the necessary tools for the task at hand. Rope, torches and water not forgetting a little lunch to keep their rumbling stomachs satisfied. When they had completed this they left the sounds of the working mine behind. Besides all their foolery, both Oriin and Erruel thought highly of themselves as two very capable hunters and trackers. Hours spent avoiding work had given them time to excel in other vital areas for such noble persons as these two. Unfortunately, a lot of this time was spent eating so their skills were more of an imaginary nature existing in a world of adventure conjured by talk and tall stories. Both seemed content to await the arrival of good fortune and honourable position among the dwarfs. An excursion like this one was lifeblood to the curious. Stocky, strong and determined these were but a few of the pitiful qualities they could rely upon when the need arose. If they do not argue themselves into trouble, they should just about survive until hunger drags them home again. As they saying goes in Trilling Brook Rise, a dwarf may make many friends but a full stomach made for the best companion. Upon deciding one torch would be used instead of two, they packed the others away just to be safe in case the need for more light should arise. The little explorers set off down the main tunnel following the twisting turns till the pathway branched into several directions. Without slowing, the larger of the companions took the left tunnel furthest away and also the lead. Holding the torch in front of himself Erruel trekked ahead of his balding shadow his torch held high enough for both to clearly see the way ahead. Down they travelled for several hundred paces till they stopped at last in front of a side tunnel blocked by an ancient looking wooden door. This door was clearly chained and secured. It should have been blatantly obvious to both men that its sole purpose was to keep intruders from intruding. A rusty padlock should be a deterrent to the determined but unfortunately, for everybody on Eirith the whole scene reeked of forgotten treasures and much much more, just tantalizingly beyond the eager reach of those two. Eyes came to rest on the ancient lock. This proved too much for the little men. Echoes of mothers telling children not to put their hands in fires were clichés completely lost now on the excited pair. “Ok” Erruel said,” Hand me the pick “ Not a word was spoken in reply. ” Hand me the pick. Are you eating again,” he said as he turned around. “I didn’t bring one I thought you had that”Oriin replied hopefully. “Ok then give me the shovel “Erruels patience was not one of his finer attributes. “I’ve got the food the water, the rope just like you said, and that’s all” Erruel looks at his friend and considers for a moment the distance to travel back to the forgotten tools. “This is the last mistake we are going to make today”. With this Erruel drew the doubled headed axe from its harness hanging across his back. “So it’s not a sneak in sneak out thing you’re planning then Erruel”Oriin asked in a worried voice. “Dwarves without a shovel or pick to hand and us being miners and all, the shame of it has unhinged me.” he laughed out loud and the tunnel laughed back at him. The sounds of his echoes returned with a curious mocking edge to them, this they did not expect. The two boys stop and looked each other straight in the eyes. Oriin was the first to reply. “You only imagined that Erruel” the remark though quite revealing in itself was lost on the taller dwarf. Swinging the heavy axe high over his shoulder, he made short work of the decaying timbers before him. Oriins said out loud,” I hope you handle your horse just as well” This area of Eirith was well known for its precious metals and priceless gemstones. Rich veins remained buried deep within depths of the mine waiting to be discovered by the relentless little miners who toiled deep within The Two Brothers wood for generations. The village elders would frighten gullible children on cold winter nights with tales of the underworld and its minions. These stories would grow more fantastic in the telling with every barrel of ale opened and consumed. A tradition was born nonetheless concerning angry spirits and terrifying monsters all of which were said to roam the forbidden pathways deep in their mine. Lost treasures and magical talismans lay scatted about like autumn leaves according to some if one was willing to make the supreme sacrifice. Demons were said to lurk in waiting to seize and devour anyone who dared to disturb the realm of the dead. As the legends grew, the general populace of the Brook were contented to leave the dwellers of this underworld to their own devices while they carried on living beyond the ancient door. Legend also had it that dwarf miners happened upon this shaft as opposed to having created it long before its present explorers were even born. Many years ago, elders sent a hunting party to explore its secrets. Men handpicked and battle tested they were. The village still awaited their return and will do so for generations yet to come. The rusty padlock was a testament to everyone’s real beliefs now. Little did they know that several centuries before that fateful expedition lightening had struck on a cool clear summers night creating the brothers. Now that was a mystery no village elder would unravel any time soon without a little help from the willing. The torch flickered violently as a chilling updraft was released upon decimating the door. Shattered timber littered the floor as the seal to a best-forgotten path was finally broken. A faint howl emanated from the dark throat of the waiting unknown. An eerie wailing transformed the dwarfs happy little world into one of haunting uncertainty. This tunnel had nothing to offer its adventurers but disaster. The two dwarves had nothing to offer in return but stupidity. They proceeded. |
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