View Full Version : What It Means to Be a Friend
Solo. Hopefully this one fares better than my last attempt at a quest with Atzar. If you happen to read this quest at any time, feel free to drop me a PM or IM letting me know what you think of it - any input would be appreciated.
The forest between Marris and Tel’Han was peaceful. Conifers soared high above the ground, and the widespread branches of the great trees greedily snatched all but a few scattered rays of light from the setting sun. As a result, the forest floor was left in relative darkness. There was very little troublesome undergrowth, but roots crisscrossed the winding path, threatening to trip inattentive hikers. The air was fresh and clean, smelling faintly and pleasantly of pine. As the long day finally gave way to night, the crickets were just beginning their nocturnal song.
An odd pair trekked through the sparse woods. One was a tall, thin young man with long black hair by the name of Atzar Kellon. Discounting the fact that he was a mage, the man was normal enough. The oddity in the pair came in the form of his companion, Ennai.
Ennai was a red dragon. Brilliant red scales covered a thick tail, strong wings, powerful legs and thin arms, and a fierce face. He carried himself with great dignity, head held high in a move that would have been all the more effective had he been more than two feet tall.
“So… do you follow any faith?” The question from Ennai came out of the blue. Atzar paused, gathering his wayward thoughts.
“Faith?” he repeated the word dumbly.
“Yes. Do you believe in any God? Do you believe in the afterlife? The Home of the White Dragon, or the Pit of the Cursed Ones? Or do you follow some other divine path?” The red dragon's gaze followed Atzar closely. Had the wizard been paying attention, he would have realized that this was an important question.
Instead, the mage snorted dismissively. Religion wasn’t prevalent in Tel’Han. Those who practiced at all did so with little zeal.
“No. We at Tel’Han would rather spend our time doing something practical.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, he regretted them.
Had it been possible, the little red dragon would have turned even redder. “I wasn’t asking for an insult,” the creature bit off the words hotly. “I was merely curious. I would... greatly appreciate it if you would refrain from such disrespectful words in the future.” With an angry snort, the small dragon trotted several paces ahead, clearly not wishing to talk with him anymore. The damage already done, Atzar didn’t even bother to apologize.
They had come to be companions only recently. Atzar had traveled to Ennai's home town, Marris, in pursuit of the man responsible for the murder of several of his friends from Tel'Han. Ordinarily, the mage wouldn't have taken such an active role in the pursuit of the assassin, but this situation was unique: the man had killed four people through Atzar himself.
The game was called Charms. It acted as a sort of virtual reality, a place where wizards could battle without fear of death. The mage had participated in one of these battles, but the unknown killer had removed the enchantments that separated the game from reality. When Atzar and his team defeated their opponents, they had really passed away. Needless to say, it wasn't a happy memory for any of those present, and it was even worse for those involved.
At Marris, Atzar had met Ide. The big, wise man was the chief of that village, and he assured the young mage that the attack had not been by the hands of a man of Marris. Once convinced, the wizard departed for Tel'Han to let the Elders know that Marris was a friend. Ennai decided to accompany him.
The mage had only known Ennai for a few hours, but his personality was already quite clear. The little red creature was formal, arrogant, quick to anger, and proud to a fault. Unlike Zirkan, the mage’s blue friend, this dragon was seemingly devoid of a sense of humor. He was, however, enormously intelligent and perceptive. This whole plan, after all, was his brainchild.
Atzar stumbled on an unseen root, lurching away from his thoughts. Frowning, he stopped and took a long look at the sun as it peeked between the branches. “Ennai,” he called, “I think we should stop for the night. Light’s getting bad, and we’re not exactly walking on level ground.”
“We’re almost there,” came the sour reply. “I can smell the smoke. If you pick up the pace, we can be in Tel’Han by nighttime. Let’s press on.”
The mage sighed, noting the stress on the word “you.” He was glumly certain that it would be quite some time before Ennai forgave him for his rash comment.
Atzar added “slow to forgive” to his mental list of Ennai’s personality traits.
“Alright. Where does your leader live?” Ennai spoke into the nighttime gloom when they had reached Tel’Han.
The word ‘village’ was a bit of a misnomer for the magic community. Everybody opted to spread out all over the mountain rather than live close together. Atzar and Ennai stood in front of the Great Hall, but there were only two houses visible from their position: a mage’s house further up the mountain, and Atzar’s own home in the opposite direction.
“We have four of them. A council,” Atzar answered. “They all live near the top of the mountain, but they’ll all be asleep. It’s well past midnight.”
The red dragon snorted with disappointment. “What do you suggest we do in the meantime, then?”
“Well, that’s my house right there,” the mage said, pointing to his home in the distance, illuminated by the bright moon. “We can get some rest and see the elders first thing tomorrow. Besides, there’s somebody I’d like you to meet.”
“Who? And why?” The dragon, even though his demeanor was still frigid toward Atzar, couldn’t hide his curiosity.
“His name is Zirkan. I think you two have a lot in common.” Ennai snorted again but said nothing, opting instead to follow the mage down the road to his home.
A short moment later, Atzar gave the heavy wooden door to his home a push. It swung open slowly, squeaking metal hinges shattering the silence.
“Zirkan?” Atzar spoke. His greeting was met with more silence. The house was dark, but the little blue dragon wasn’t one to keep a regular sleep schedule. Perhaps he was out hunting. Shrugging in slight disappointment, the mage walked into the house, reaching blindly for the fire poker to stir up the coals in the fireplace. The embers flared reluctantly before finally blazing back to life, catching on the logs above them.
The wizard’s house was a simple, one-room home with no luxuries. A bed, a fireplace, a desk and a bookcase loaded messily with all manner of scrolls and scripts was all that Atzar had to his name. Well, there was also Zirkan’s makeshift ‘bed’, a mess of sticks and grass that resembled a giant bird’s nest. “Hey, this is a good deal for somebody who’s spent the last few years sleeping on rock,” the blue dragon had said as he piled the bedding near the fire. The mage smiled. Zirkan had spent the last month with Atzar, but it seemed as if he had been there for even longer.
“So… How’d it go?” a high-pitched voice spoke from above his head.
The wizard jumped. Zirkan was resting up on the mantle above the fireplace. His wings were folded and his tail was curled around him for warmth not unlike a cat. He stared inquisitively at Atzar.
The mage relaxed. “What are you doing up there?”
“It’s warmer up here,” the blue creature answered before repeating his earlier question. “How’d it go?”
“Not like I expected, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’ll tell you about it later. Right now, there’s somebody I want you to meet.” Atzar turned and beckoned to the red dragon, who had been standing respectfully by the door. “Ennai, this is Zirkan, a friend of mine. Zirkan, this is Ennai. He decided to come with me to pass a message along to the elders from Marris.”
Once the introductions were out of the way, the mage took a seat at his desk and watched. He wasn’t quite sure what he expected. It was entirely possible that they would laugh at him for his foolish idea. One wouldn’t introduce one human to another simply because they were both human, after all. Dragons were rare, however, and Atzar hoped that different rules applied.
Judging by the looks of curiosity and interest that the two shared, however, the mage had a hunch that his instincts were right on the money.
“So, umm… hi.”
The hesitant words that came from the blue dragon’s mouth seemed to break them out of the trance, and both of their personalities returned.
“Well met, Zirkan,” Ennai said properly, bowing his head slightly to Zirkan.
“Well met, yourself. You’re a serious one, eh?” Zirkan returned. Atzar slumped back in his chair with a sigh. This could not end well.
“How do you mean?” the red dragon inquired suspiciously.
“‘Well met.’ You don’t need to be so formal.”
“I beg to differ. Formality conveys respect, dignity and maturity. Good first impressions are important.”
Zirkan laughed but said nothing. Nothing, however, was more than enough to set Ennai off.
“What is it with you people? Is dignity a foreign concept to Tel’Han?” the little red creature puffed angrily before turning tail and stalking back out the open door.
The mage groaned before getting up and following Ennai. He threw an irritated look at Zirkan on his way out the door, who responded with one of innocence.
“What? Did I say anything that wasn’t true?”
“Diplomacy works wonders, Zirkan,” Atzar said pointedly before closing the door behind him. After a few seconds, the hypocrisy of that statement struck him. Ennai was, after all, angry with him for the same reason. The mage made a face and ran after the red dragon, who was trotting back up towards the Great Hall.
“Hey, sorry about that,” Atzar murmured to the dragon when he caught up to him. “He didn’t mean any offense. He’s… acidic at the best of times.”
Ennai kept walking. “I’m sure,” he muttered. “Look, if your village cares so little about respect, then let’s go and wake your elders up right now. Our business is important, and quite frankly I have no desire to remain here any longer than necessary.”
The mage surrendered. “Understood.” Both human and dragon lapsed into momentary silence as they followed the trail towards the top of the mountain.
A couple of minutes later, Atzar pointed towards a distant house in front of them. “That’s Galla’s house,” he stated. “We’ll talk to him first. He’s even-tempered and reasonable. We won’t have a problem getting him to listen to our story.”
“Fair enough,” came the short reply.
“Listen, I…” Atzar took a deep breath before rushing on with the words. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just didn’t think-”
“We can discuss this later,” Ennai interrupted him. “We need to worry about more important things right now.”
The mage sighed and nodded. They walked the remaining steps in tense silence before stepping up onto Galla’s porch. Atzar paused for a moment to gather his thoughts before he reached up and banged on the door.
“Galla! I need to see you! It’s important!”
“That should do it…”
Only moments before, Galla had shown them into the house, armed with a candle to pierce the nighttime gloom. Atzar and Ennai now sat in his library, eyes roving over the amazing collection of manuscripts stacked neatly on bookshelves and piled messily on tabletops. The young mage sat restlessly in a high-backed chair, fingernails nervously tapping a staccato on a nearby wooden table. The red dragon stood on the table, silent and still, as calm as Atzar was anxious. Galla bustled around the room, busily tending the fire and preparing a pot of tea to help himself awaken.
“Alright,” the old mage said, finally seating himself in another chair with a cup of steaming tea in hand. “I’m ready. Start at the beginning.” Ennai looked up at the fidgeting mage expectantly. Only he knew that part of the story.
“Well,” the nervous mage began, “It started at the Great Hall, at the Charms games.” He looked hopefully at Galla. “You know that much of the story, right?” The less the shy man had to talk, the more comfortable he was. He especially didn’t want to bring up old memories such as those.
The old earth mage granted Atzar's request. “Yes.” His expression grew solemn for a moment. “Atzar, you need to know that all that has happened isn’t your fault. Nobody had any way of knowing that the enchantments on those tables had been removed. Deaths within the community are never a happy occasion, but it could have happened to anybody. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” After a short but awkward pause, the little old man returned to the original point. “What made you go to Marris in search of answers, Atzar?”
The room fell silent for a moment as Atzar gathered his thoughts. “Yesterday night, I was exploring the Great Hall,” he recalled. “I wanted to see if I could find something that everybody else had missed. I went out back, where the unused Charms tables were being kept. There were footprints in the dirt there.”
Galla raised an eyebrow. “Go on,” he prompted.
“When it got light enough, I followed them. They led straight down to the mountain road north of here. The tracks left the forest about, oh, I’d say two miles from Marris. I went there to talk to Ide and see if he knew anything about this.”
“Who’s Ide?” came the elder’s next question.
“Allow me, Atzar,” Ennai interrupted respectfully. “Ide is my friend, the chief of Marris. He sends his warm regards and condolences.” After a brief inclination of his scaled head to demonstrate his sincerity, the dragon’s eyes became grave. “We had heard of the incident at Tel’Han a few hours before Atzar arrived. When our lookouts saw him approaching and identified him as a man of Tel’Han, Ide went out to meet him to avoid any hostilities. After a conversation at length, Ide recommended that we travel here straightaway to tell you that Marris is your friend in this and all that happens hereafter.”
“Good news,” the ever-serene Galla said slowly, looking from one to the other, “but I get the feeling that there’s more. I would have readily accepted Atzar’s word as truth. Why did Ide feel inclined to send you with him?”
“I am here to let you know of a dangerous possibility,” Ennai answered with his usual formal turn of phrase. “This wasn’t just a random act of violence. That would accomplish nothing but the endangerment of the assassins. This was done for a reason. We believe that somebody is trying to start conflict. Perhaps it is their hope that Tel’Han would act rashly and, upon seeing the tracks leading to Marris, ambush our village. I don’t know for certain, but it is a possibility that you must be aware of.”
There was another moment of silence as Galla absorbed the new information. “I see,” he stated finally, scratching absently at his iron-gray beard. “Thank you for this warning.”
A series of thunderous crashes erupted suddenly from the door, causing all three of them to jump in surprise. A faint glimmer of alarm crept into the old man’s eyes, and he moved with uncharacteristic haste to open the door.
When the door opened, the moon outlined a terrified young mage, breathing hard and shaking uncontrollably. “Galla! Galla!” he shouted crazily as soon as the door opened, collapsing onto the doorframe.
“Easy, son. What’s wrong?” the small man said comfortingly, laying a hand on the fearful mage’s shoulder.
“It’s Ruri! She’s been attacked! Hurry, you have to help her!”
Shadowy trees blurred by left and right as Atzar sprinted after the young wizard. Galla, surprisingly swift for his old age, followed right behind him. Ennai glided effortlessly above his head, outlined by the light of the full moon. The mage’s heart was in his throat. Ruri, like Galla, was an Elder. The loss that Tel’Han would experience if she died would be unspeakable. Thankfully, her house was only a short distance away, and within moments the small group was at her door. Not bothering to knock, Galla shoved the door open and entered.
Ruri’s home was identical to Galla’s in basic layout, but there were several distinct differences. It was clear, for example, that a woman lived here: while Galla’s desktop was cluttered with sundry books and scrolls, Ruri’s was neat and orderly. The shelves of books were lined up with a fussy attention to detail, and the floors were spotless. A dark-haired woman in her early thirties sat on the nearby bed.
“Ruri? Are you alright?” Galla asked, calm voice edged with concern. The lady’s face was pale, and she cradled her left elbow in her right hand. Her shirt was soaked with a fair amount of blood.
The female Elder’s voice, however, disproved any signs of weakness or pain that the scene may have given. “I’m fine,” she said in her rich voice. She pulled back the bloody sleeve of her shirt, revealing the unbroken skin underneath. “It’s not nearly as bad as it looks. Being a healer has its advantages.”
Galla breathed a short sigh of relief. “That’s good to hear,” the old man stated before growing serious. “What happened?”
“A man in black clothes with a knife snuck into my house,” she explained. “I was still awake, reading. When I saw him, he seemed to panic. He slashed me and then bolted.” Ruri paused thoughtfully. “I don’t think he expected me to be awake,” she murmured. “If I had been asleep, I might not be here right now.”
“Did you see which way he went?” Galla asked her.
She shook her head regretfully. “Sorry, but no. I was more interested in tending the cut.”
The elderly man acted quickly. “We need to look for him. Split up. If you see any signs of him, yell for the rest of us. Ruri, stay here but be careful. He may try to come back. Marlo,” he said, referring to the boy who had alerted them, “stay near the house and look for tracks. I need your help, but I don’t want you getting hurt.” With that, the old man left the house and disappeared into the night.
Atzar had an idea of his own. “Ennai,” he turned to the red dragon, “how good do you see at night?”
“With this moon? Pretty well,” came the answer.
“Great. Go back to my house and get Zirkan. You two will cover more ground than the rest of us.”
With a quick nod of agreement, Ennai turned and took wing into the night, speedily flying back down the mountain. The mage followed Galla outside and turned in a different direction. All traces of weariness had vanished from his mind in the face of danger. Atzar strode hastily into the sparse mountain trees, searching carefully for any sign of the attacker.
Nothing.
No broken branches, no footprints, no telltale signs or hints at all that the would-be assassin had passed by. No matter how much Atzar might have loathed the man and what he had tried to do, he had no choice but to grudgingly acknowledge the man’s skills in evading capture. With a sigh of disappointment, the mage turned and made his way back to Ruri’s house. It was no hard task. He had grown up in these parts, and he knew the thin forest like the back of his hand. Atzar plodded on, accompanied by nothing but the sound of his feet kicking through fallen pine needles.
After a short while, the mage found himself back at Ruri’s house. Galla opened the door for him as he approached.
“Any luck?” the old man asked.
Atzar shook his head. “None. You?”
Galla returned his gesture. “Nothing on my end, either. Have you seen Ennai?”
“No. He had to fly back and get Zirkan first, though, so it would make sense if he took a little bit longer,” the mage pointed out.
The Elder grunted. “True,” he conceded. “I guess we wait here for their return, then.”
With that, he stepped out of the doorway, allowing Atzar to enter. Ruri sat at her desk, reading a thick book through spectacles. She had apparently swapped her bloody shirt for a clean, blue one. She looked up as he walked in, giving him a grim smile. The boy Marlo sat in another chair nearby, eyes blazed over in thought. The mage slumped heavily into a seat next to the young boy. Galla closed the door behind him and resumed his post at the window, watching for the return of the two small dragons.
The room fell silent. Everybody was lost in their own thoughts, in their own interpretation of what had happened only two short hours before. In all of their minds, there was one constant: between the disastrous game of Charms and the recent attempt on Ruri’s life, it was clear that somebody out there was no friend to Tel’Han.
After nearly half an hour, the night began to fade away. The full moon crept across the sky and disappeared, and the black night began to take on faint hues of morning blue. Galla sighed and stepped away from the window. “I think we should go get some rest,” he advised the rest of them somberly. “I’m sure Ennai and Zirkan know to come and find us when they return. Until then, I don’t know what more we can do.” He turned to Ruri. “Be careful. Lock the door for the rest of the night. The dragons may come back at any time, but we also don’t want any more unwelcome visitors. Thank you all for your help tonight.” With a brief nod to each of them, Galla turned and left the house.
Atzar stood up and stretched, trying to blink the sleepiness from his eyes. Until that moment, his weariness had been forgotten in the tumult of the night’s events. Finally, though, three nights with no sleep returned with force. The mage followed the Elder from the house, remembering just how comfortable his bed really was.
The wizard couldn’t recall the short journey back to his house. The next thing he knew, he was lying in his bed, blanket pulled snugly around him to ward off the relative chill of his house. Heavy eyelids finally gave way, and after only a few moments the mage was dreaming.
He was in the ruins again…
Atzar crouched behind the crumbling stone wall with his teammates. Khungar, the beastman. Rylius, the troublemaker. Serus, the shapeshifter. They were strategizing, trying to think of how best to engage the other team…
Things happened quickly at that point. A fireball flew out from the distant, torch-adorned step pyramid, and Khungar took off to confront the foe at its top. The remaining three sprinted a short distance away to ambush the approaching opposition. The steps were getting closer. The situation would explode soon enough…
Thump, thump, thump.
What the…?
Several rocks fell from the top of one of the dilapidated walls, providing cause for the noises. Still, that had never been in the dream in the past…
Thump, thump, thump.
Strange…
“Atzar! Open the freaking door!” Zirkan’s high-pitched, acid-tongued voice shattered the dream, bringing the bemused mage to relative wakefulness. The series of thumps sounded again. This time, however, it wasn’t falling rocks, but a pounding from the other side of his door.
He had been asleep for a few hours. The rays of sun that poured brightly into his home informed him that dawn giving way to early day. Rubbing his eyes, Atzar attempted to gather his wits.
Thump, thump, thump. “Atzar! I know you’re in there, I could hear you snoring! Let us in!”
Snapping to life, the mage jumped out of bed and pulled the door open. A fuming Zirkan pushed past him and made a beeline for his nest-like bed. “Wow,” he vented, “I must have been banging on the door for fifteen minutes before I got through your thick skull!”
“Sorry,” Atzar mumbled. “Some people sleep, you know.” He looked down to Ennai, who still stood respectfully just outside the doorway, and an irritable comment formed on his lips. Luckily, he swallowed it before it came out. He didn’t need to anger the red dragon any more than he already had.
“Come on in,” he said instead. Nodding in acknowledgment, the little creature stepped into the house.
“So what did you guys find?” Atzar asked as soon as they were comfortable. “I’m assuming you found something, given how long you were gone.”
“In short,” Ennai answered, “we found your man. He was moving through the woods as quickly as he could without leaving too much evidence.”
“We chose to follow him, though, rather than capture him,” Zirkan cut him off. Ennai shot him an offended glare, but the blue dragon ignored it and continued. “He was running back to his friends, and we flew ahead of him to see where he was going.” The pygmy’s voice grew serious. “Atzar, we have trouble. They have a small army out there. They can’t cover ground nearly as quickly as we can, but they’ll still be here in about three days.”
More even than the obvious danger of the words, it was Zirkan’s tone that tipped Atzar off to the importance of the situation. The dragon hardly ever spoke with that kind of gravity. “How many?” the mage asked.
“About one hundred strong, I’d say,” Ennai guessed. “They had no physical weapons, though, which can mean only one thing.”
“Mages,” Atzar mused, and the red dragon nodded grimly. The wizard thought for a moment. “They could just be traveling, right?” he protested. “What makes you think they’re coming to attack us?”
The formal creature shook his head. “They wore battle robes, Atzar,” he said solemnly. “They can only be coming for one thing.”
The mage’s stomach dropped nervously. Battle robes were used only for war. They were heavy, stiff and uncomfortable, so they weren’t practical to wear on common occasions. They were, however, made of a cloth that was resistant to most magic. The dragons were right.
“We need to tell everybody,” Atzar stated instinctively, and made immediately for the door.
“Hold on,” Zirkan said, halting him in his tracks. “There’s a little bit of good news as well. We went to Marris to talk to Ennai’s friend. Ide is on his way with several of his own fighters to help us out. They’ll be here in a matter of hours.” He grinned at Atzar. “Perhaps I don’t give you enough credit,” he quipped. “Maybe you do have friends.”
“Galla! I need to see you!” Atzar yelled, pounding on the door for the second time in as many days. The dragons stood behind him, one impatient, the other dignified.
After only a few seconds, the door swung open, revealing the small, elderly man behind it. “Atzar,” he greeted the mage warmly, “come on in.” Stepping aside, Galla waved the wizard and his companions in.
The mage stepped inside the familiar dwelling. The large, packed shelves and messy desk had not changed since he had seen it only hours ago. The only difference was the absence of the candles, the house flooded instead with daylight from the single window behind Galla’s desk.
Ide was already there. The chief of Marris was a big man, well-muscled and taller even than Atzar, with a bald head and piercing green eyes. He stood up when the mage entered, a grim smile on his face.
“Well met, Atzar,” he said in his quiet voice, echoing the phrase that Atzar had heard several times from Ennai. Apparently, some things rubbed off. Ide turned to the other dragons. “Well met, Ennai, Zirkan.”
“So, what can I do for you?” Galla asked the mage.
Atzar shrugged. “He’s probably already told you most of it,” the wizard said, nodding at Ide. “There’s an army headed right at us. Battle robes and everything.”
The old earth mage nodded. “Yes, that’s what Ide said. Marris will be aiding us in this battle, fortunately. Ide himself is here, as you can see, and several more of his best fighters are on their way. Additionally, we know of their approach. They’ve lost the element of surprise, so we’ll have time to plan a defense.”
“Ennai,” Ide turned to his longtime friend, “what color were their robes?”
“Gray,” came the bleak response.
The friendly smile dropped from Ide’s face. “Are you sure?” There was even a change in his voice. Instead of quiet, gentle tones, his voice became sharp, revealing a hint of anger and violence just below the surface. “Pure gray? Not lined with any other color?” When Ennai nodded in affirmation, the bald man swore uncharacteristically.
Galla looked at the big man with grave curiosity. “This means something to you, I take it?” he guessed.
“The battle robes of the men of Dezin are plain, unadorned gray,” Ide explained. “I thought they had left. Apparently not." He paused. "There’s… a bit of a story behind this.”
Watching the big, aggravated man carefully, the Elder sat down in a chair. “I believe we have time,” he stated.
“Fair enough.” Ide took a deep breath. “Dezin is an old enemy of Marris,” he began. “About twenty years ago, the bad blood started. A man named Domin was the chief of Marris at the time. He was a good man. Smartest man I’ve ever seen.” A bitter smile flickered across the big man’s face in reflection. “Anyway, things started happening to our people. Food would be poisoned. Houses would be set ablaze in the middle of the night. Nobody knew who was doing it or why they were doing it. That changed soon enough.
“They sent an assassin to Marris. The man snuck into Domin’s home and murdered him.” Ide snorted in disgust. He closed his eyes, frown growing deeper as if the memory was etched into his eyelids. “He was dead when we got there. Nothing any of us could do about it. But we caught the murderer. He said his name was Torpa. It may or may not have been his real name. Didn’t matter either way. His fate was sealed.” The bald man clenched his fists suggestively.
“But before we did anything… irreversible, we probed him for information. He told us that he was from Dezin, and he also told us that his men were responsible for all of the other troubles. Now, Domin was dead, so we didn’t have a leader. But myself and several others with loud voices in Marris knew exactly what needed to be done.” A dark frown appeared on his face. “Less than a week later, we attacked them.”
Ide shrugged. “There’s not much else to the story. They didn’t expect our assault. I guess they felt safe in their secrecy. When we were done, there wasn’t a single home left standing. Many of them were killed in the battle, but the rest fled. I assumed that they’d left the Comb Mountains altogether.
If possible, the big man’s tone became even more harsh. “I’ve never known them to fight face to face. There’s always a hidden knife, a trap, an underhanded trick that they use to gain the advantage. Their battle mages use poison magic. They don’t cause great damage on contact, but some of their stronger spells mean slow, agonizing death. Always be on your guard.”
A fearsome new light entered Ide’s green eyes. “This is my fight, Galla,” he declared, his voice conveying that there would be no disagreement. “Many of my friends were killed by these people. My wizards and I will meet them, and we will wipe them from the Comb Mountains once and for all.” The big man was a fearsome sight, muscles trembling in scarcely-contained anger. As Atzar listened, he had little doubt that Ide meant every word he said.
A long silence filled the room as everybody absorbed Ide’s heated words.
“I don’t suppose, then, that you’d accept some assistance?” Galla inquired quietly after a moment.
Ide shook his head. “No. No Tel’Han lives need be lost in this battle. My men and I will be more than a match for them in a battle on even ground.” He made a visible effort to calm himself down, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, the frightening gleam was gone, replaced by his usual piercing green gaze.
He looked at Ennai. “How far away did you say they were?” he asked, his voice quiet once again, although the gentleness was gone.
“It depends on how fast they are moving,” the red dragon answered. “I would guess that they’ll be here in less than three days, but it could be less if they hurry.”
Ide headed for the door decisively. “I’m going to meet my wizards,” he informed them. “We will face them as far from this place as possible. I will return when everything is finished.”
“Wait!” Ennai protested. “Let me accompany you, at the very least.”
The big man shook his head once. “You stay with Galla and Atzar. If something goes wrong, you need to be here to help them defend those that can’t fight.” Without another glance back, Ide left, the door closing behind him with a resounding slam.
“So… now what?” Zirkan asked. “Do we just… wait here?”
“There is stuff that needs to be done,” Galla answered. “The village needs to be informed, and a defense needs to be planned. I have every confidence in Ide’s ability, but I’d also rather not leave anything to chance.” The old man looked at each of them in turn. “But I can handle it. You all get some rest. You’ve done more than enough in the past few days.” Atzar opened his mouth to protest, but the earth mage cut him off with a raised hand. “I can take care of things for awhile, Atzar,” he said pointedly. “I may be old, but I’m still able enough for this. Go get some rest.”
Realizing that argument would accomplish nothing, the mage nodded silently. He turned and exited the house, followed shortly by the two dragons.
Outside, the wizard waited for them to catch up. “Ennai,” he said when they drew near him, “is Ide going to be alright? I don’t like leaving him to fight alone.”
“Ide is a great fighter, and his men are the strongest in Marris,” came the answer. Atzar couldn’t help but feel as if the little dragon had sidestepped the question a bit. Still, there was nothing any of them could do. Ide had made it abundantly clear that he would accept no help for the cause. Sighing in resignation, the mage turned down the mountain to go back to his house.
The big, bald man stamped into the camp that his men had set up. He said nothing to any of them, choosing instead to move straight to the edge of the small clearing and sit, staring angrily into the woods. The long hike, it seemed, had done little to calm his temper.
Behind him, eight powerful mages exchanged glances of fear and uncertainty. This was a side of Ide that they hadn’t seen before.
One of the men, Garuta, plucked up the courage to approach him. “Um… sir?” the youthful man began, nervously clutching the thick maroon fabric of his robe. “Is… there something wrong?”
Ide blew out a large breath. Angry though he was, he reminded himself that these men had done nothing to deserve his hostility. “Yeah, Garuta,” he answered with a sigh, “there is.” The big man paused for a moment as if that was all the information he was willing to give. “You’re young, Garuta,” he said with a force that made them all jump. “If you were alive during the war with Dezin, then you were just a baby. It’s not something that I’d fully expect you to understand.”
This time, he really was finished. The mages exchanged more glances, this time conveying confusion rather than fear. Ide’s explanation seemed neither here nor there. Finally, however, they began to understand his hint.
“Sir,” spoke up another man, considerably older than Garuta. “Are you saying we’re fighting the Dezin?” Unlike Garuta, this wizened old man had fought the Dezin. To this man, the prospect of such a battle would mean a great deal more.
Ide’s silence was as good as confirmation. Several of the older men grew pale. Garuta looked from fearful face to fearful face, still puzzled. “I don’t get it,” he admitted. “Who are the Dezin? We’re all strong wizards. Why are they so bad?”
The wizened man shook his head. “You’ll just have to wait and see, I’m afraid,” he responded somberly. “What I can tell you, though, is that we will probably not make it through this battle alive.”
“No!” Once again, Ide’s booming voice made them all start. He was on his feet now, every inch of his body bristling with unchecked fury. “I will not have any more Marris men killed by those underhanded bastards!” He turned back to face them. Each of his men averted their eyes, not wishing to meet their irate leader’s fearsome gaze. “You will all return to your families,” the big man barked. “That, I promise you.” He took a deep breath, trying to quell the burning rage within him.
“Break camp,” he ordered with a growl. “We bring the fight to them. I expect each and every one of you to be ready to move in fifteen minutes.”
To a man, they scrambled to do as he commanded. Not a single one of them wished to test his patience on that day. Watching as they hurriedly packed their belonging and doused their cooking fires, Ide sighed. He had promised them life, but nobody knew for certain what would happen. Accidents could always happen, nobody what precautions were taken against them. He knew one thing, however: if one of his men was harmed, if one of his families was left fatherless, then every single one of the Dezin scum would die that day.
Of that, he was certain.
Ennai, the small red dragon, stared wistfully from his perch in a tall pine tree.
The weather could not possibly have been any better. Puffy white clouds drifted lazily across a brilliant blue sky, aided by the lightest of breezes. Great trees soared majestically, peaking far above the dragon’s head. The creature, taking all of this in, snorted ironically. How perfect of a contrast to the hell that Ide would soon go through – or perhaps was already going through.
Several deer flitted between the trees, pausing every so often to sample the nearest plant’s leaves and shoots. It was these deer that held Ennai’s gaze. How fulfilling it would be to bring one down… But one only had to be on the wrong end of those antlers once to know that it was a bad idea. Suddenly, the red dragon started as the branch shook violently.
It was Zirkan. “Whatcha up to?” he asked his red counterpart casually.
Instead of answering, Ennai looked back to the feeding deer. The blue dragon, following his gaze, laughed when he saw them. “Deer, eh? Tough creatures. Ever brought one down before?”
The red dragon nodded absently. “Once. I paid for it, though. Those antlers, it appears, are used for more than display. The headache lasted for a week.”
Another chuckle escaped Zirkan’s scaly lips. “I can imagine. You must have been proud of yourself after, though.”
Ennai responded with a rare laugh of his own. “No, not really, but they do taste fantastic.”
Another short laugh. “Very true.” Zirkan fell silent for a moment, joining the other dragon as he gazed at the grazing herd. The blue dragon looked hesitantly at Ennai. Something seemed to be on his mind.
“They are… a bit much for one to catch alone,” he suggested finally. Ennai nodded, waiting for him to finish the thought.
“Perhaps… perhaps we could take him down. Together,” Zirkan blurted. In that one proposal, the blue dragon offered both an apology and a request for friendship. It was the closest thing Ennai would ever get to an actual “I’m sorry,” and the formal creature knew it. He smiled in forgiveness.
“You may be right,” he conceded. “Which one?” He nodded back to the herd. There were perhaps a dozen deer in all, bucks and does of various ages.
“That one,” Zirkan pointed with one short claw. “The one with the big black spots on its back. See him?” The deer in question was somewhat younger than the rest, his antlers not nearly as well-developed as some of the other males in the herd.
After a brief search, Ennai nodded. “Let’s go,” he said, not wanting to waste time. Flexing powerful legs, he launched himself from the tree in pursuit of their prey. Zirkan was only a wingbeat behind.
As soon as the dragons kicked away from the tree, the herd bolted. They all went in different directions, vanishing deeper into the forest with leaps and bounds. Ennai and Zirkan weaved in and out of the trees, pursuing the lone buck that the blue dragon had marked. The chase wasn’t the challenge. In the air, the two dragons were faster and quite nearly as agile as the fleeing deer. The test would come when they took the beast down.
For now, however, they were content to scare it, to tire it out. They flew close behind it, egging it on to even greater speeds, taking the occasional nip at its flanks when it was safe to do so. Eventually, the deer’s breakneck speed began to wane. It was clear to the dragons: now was the time to strike.
Ennai flew up high, preparing to swoop down on it like a hawk. Meanwhile, Zirkan pumped his wings, urging his lithe body to greater velocity. He would fly low and bring the tiring buck to a halt if possible. He could smell the sweat, the fear that emanated from the big beast’s hide. He could almost taste the fresh meat in his mouth already. Yes, now was the time to strike! With a final burst of speed, the blue dragon pulled ahead of the deer. All four of its legs locked, but its momentum was too great.
“Zirkan!”
Startled, the blue dragon looked up from its prey. The deer seized the chance and leapt away. Zirkan began to give chase, but Ennai’s voice rang out again.
“Zirkan! Stop!”
An uttered curse broke from the dragon’s mouth. Giving the vanishing buck one last look of longing, he flew up to join Ennai near the top of a large tree.
“What was that for? We had it! We almost-”
“That doesn’t matter,” Ennai cut him off. He thrust one claw out ahead of him. “Look!” Below them, the trees ended abruptly, giving way to a wide slope that dropped gently away beneath them. From their vantage point, they could see for a great distance. Far out near the base of the hill, a mass of people had gathered. They were like ants from that distance, crawling slowly but surely up towards the forest.
“They’re humans. Overall, I think deer are a lot easier to catch. Humans aren’t as fast or agile, but they tend not to scatter so easily.”
Ennai shot him a withering look, to which Zirkan responded with a cheeky grin. “No, we’re not chasing them. What color are they wearing?”
The blue dragon stared intently out towards the slow-moving mass. “Gray,” he offered after a moment. It finally sunk in. He looked at Ennai, a look of concern passing over his face. “Surely you don’t think…” He left the thought hanging in the air.
The formal little creature nodded grimly. “I do. And, assuming they stop for the night, they’ll reach Tel’Han tomorrow evening.”
The two dragons looked at each other for a moment. “We need to tell Atzar,” Zirkan finally voiced the thought that they each shared. “And we need to do it now.”
The duo of small, lithe figures tore away, sunlight glinting brightly off their metallic scales. They would warn Tel’Han of the impending conflict.
In another part of the forest, however, a conflict was just about to begin. Ide, the leader of Marris, looked down on the Dezin mob. His eight companions, a collection of the most skilled mages in his village, gazed just as intently on their enemies below. They were on a mountainside, watching as the small army made its way slowly up the steep, meandering trail. The wide trail would run across the mountain a little further and then double back in a great zigzag, all the way up the sheer cliff face. Therefore, even though Ide and his company were nearly directly over their heads, it was still nearly a half-mile journey before the Dezins were on them.
Ide continued to watch, passive for now. The time for aggression would come soon enough. Now, however, he could watch, plan, strategize. The sun was high in the sky over Ide’s head, rendering it all but impossible for the Dezin warriors to spot them from their vantage point so far below. The advantage was clear. The mages from Marris could, at any moment, choose to end the threat. There was little their foe could do to resist.
That fact was not lost upon some of the other wizards in the group. Garuta, the young mage who had spoken back in the camp, chimed in again. “Ide, there are plenty of rocks around here. All it would take is a good barrage of boulders. The ones that we didn’t crush would be knocked over the edge.” A murmur of agreement arose from the rest of the mages, but Ide shook his head resolutely.
“If we did that, we’d be no better than them. We fight them straight up like warriors,” he stated flatly. The light, the irate gleam, was beginning to creep back into his eyes. His breathing grew heavy, and his fists clenched uncontrollably. Fear sunk into the hearts of all of his men. They knew him to be a wise, intelligent man. This, however, was a different side of him, a side they had never seen. It was then apparent that there would be no strategy, no counsel, for this battle. It was with resignation that the wizards fell silent.
The next ten minutes that passed were a fidgety time for the waiting mages. They could see their enemies, the men that would try to kill them as soon as they spotted them. Yet, at the request of their leader, they could do nothing but wait. It was agonizing. Finally, however, the time did pass, and the Dezin grew closer. It was only a matter of seconds now. The Marris mages flattened themselves against the cliff face. The act would likely buy them precious seconds of extra time, making their targets that much closer, that much easier to hit. It was a sound strategy.
The big man, however, stood defiantly in the middle of the path, glaring down at his sworn enemies. Any strategy that his intelligent mind had concocted was lost to the winds now as he saw the source of so much pain, so much hatred moving ever closer. It was as if the world had disappeared. All that was left was Ide, the Dezin army, and the trail they both inhabited.
When the group of wizards saw that he never intended to move, they looked on helplessly. If there had even been a chance to reason with him before, that chance was gone now. He would take the point; he would do what he had to do. All they could do was try to keep up, to try to make sure he wasn’t harmed. To the hopeful, it was a bleak task; to the cynical, it was impossible.
Inevitably, an alert Dezin spotted Ide in the middle of the trail ahead of them. A whisper rippled through the shoddy ranks, and the gray-cloaked army stopped momentarily and looked up at this unexpected presence. This satisfied the big man’s need for honor and equal footing. He never looked back at his men, and no words of encouragement ever left his mouth. He was truly alone now.
An earsplitting roar tore from his throat, and heavy footsteps carried him at an ever-increasing speed down to his enemies. On that day, Ide met the enemies from his past. On that day, Ide renewed their vendetta.
On that day, Ide would kill Dezins.
Powered by vBulletin® Version 4.2.5 Copyright © 2025 vBulletin Solutions Inc. All rights reserved.