Dragondoom

CHAPTER 44

Vengeance

Spring, 3E1603

[This Year]

Long did it take the Foul Folk from distant Carph to reach the holt of Andrak, even though driven by the evil one through his surrogate; for it was a journey of many miles, and they could but travel at night when the Ban struck not, seeking safety in the splits and cracks of the land ere dawn, when would rise the accursed Sun.

Even so, at last they came up from the southeast and unto the mountains of Xian.

And when they came to the ruin of Andrak’s fortress, they called unto their master: “Gulgok!”

And the vacant eyes of the surrogate filled will evil, cruelty glaring forth.

“Destroyed?” he hissed, enraged by what he saw. “The fortress destroyed? How can this be?”

The black stone of the dark spires lay shattered upon the grey valley floor, bursted apart where they had toppled. The master pondered such destruction, wondering at the power of the foe who had come unto Andrak’s, wondering how to deal with such might should the need arise.

“To Dragonslair!” he commanded at last, and then the eyes of the surrogate fell vacant once more, and a drooling idiot was left among the Rūcken ranks.

Across the face of Mithgar trekked the band, loping through the land at night, resting underground by day. Along the Grimwall they went, through the mountains, for ancient holts lay therein, places of safety from Adon’s Ban.

Yet when they came within a hundred miles or so from Dragonslair, some thirty-three leagues from their goal, grey pumice lay across the ’scape, in places deep enough to swallow a Rūck whole.

And when the evil one saw such, still he commanded them onward, his words harsh, saying to be certain that his surrogate survived the journey if none else did.

And so they struggled mightily, the journey arduous, for even a few short miles through this Hèllish ’scape took days to cover. Yet they persisted, driven by fear, and at last stood where the erupting ruin could be seen, its slopes blasted down, sulfuric yellow smoke belching out, glowing lava running in red and yellow streams down the devastated flanks.

And again they called the master, and once more the evil came and looked, and knew that Black Kalgalath was slain, for nought else could explain such destruction.

And back in the dark chamber beneath the frozen wastes, long sibilant laughter hissed forth. And those within cringed in fear, for they knew not what it boded. And long did the laughter fill the darkness, for Modru’s plot had come to fruition. And the crowning part of the scheme was that he had used the Drake himself to move the hammer from a place where no hero would seek it to a place where some would try, a place where only the fittest would succeed: the strongest, or the cleverest, or the most fortunate. Just the type needed to slay a Dragon. For that was what it was all about, the slaying of a Dragon. And no matter the trait of the one to succeed-be it luck or strength or cunning, or a combination thereof-it would be needed to kill a Drake, as indeed had come about.

And this is why Modru laughed, for now his vengeance was complete: Black Kalgalath, the mighty Drake whose aid could have altered the outcome of the Great War, Black Kalgalath, the Drake who refused to cast his lot with that of Modru, Black Kalgalath, who betrayed the High Master, Gyphon, Black Kalgalath was dead. . by Modru’s hand, or just as good as.

True, Andrak had been slain; but that had always been a possibility, a risk that Modru had readily accepted when first he conceived his magnificent scheme.

And so Modru laughed long in the darkness, calling out time and again, “Do you not see the beauty of my plan: the Drake himself was the agent of his own downfall.”

Days passed, and at long last Modru’s pleasure abated. Once again his malevolence clotted upon the throne. And now he sat waiting: for a great dark rock to complete its long, long journey; for a stone that would arrive some twenty-four hundred years hence; for a hideous feartoken to come rucketing down amidst fire and thunder; for the power that would at last set him and his minions free: free to conquer, to destroy, to ravage the land; free to loose his own Master and rule the world. He waited for the day this thing would come at last, and waited for the darkest day beyond, when would be realized the greatest vengeance of all.

And far above the deep black granite, the whelming wind thundered endlessly down upon the icy scape, shrieking in fury, yet not matching the seething rage below.