Horror of Volfjor

A Hunt

The next day, Hdvan and Grodosh were trekking in the outskirts of Uljarn, great forest of the east. Deeper he travelled as he led his son upstream to the rock pools. The sound of running water was like the music of a flute to Hdvan’s ears. “Hear that, son? The forest calls us to dinner!” Grodosh jumped slightly in glee. Both of their stomachs were rumbling. Through the pines, reflections of the sun glistened off the water’s surface, a golden, liquid mirror. On the banks, Hdvan broke a small branch off a nearby pine and began fashioning it into a small spear, cutting the tip with his teeth to make a point. “Now, you do the same, lad. Let me see you try and make a spear.” Grodosh snapped off a branch and began stripping it. “Good, good. Always try and follow the grain. We will make a fisher out of you yet!” Father taught son how to find fish amongst the currents, how to stalk and how to thrust with precision and speed. After many attempts, Grodosh finally pierced a fish with his spear. “Yes!” Hdvan cried. “Grodi, you will soon be leading hunts on your own, I am sure. The whole village will have full stomachs.” His face shone proud. His son’s face was bright, but something held him back.

“Dad…” he began. “This is great, but I want to see your other fishing technique. You know…”

“Son, you know your mother hates me exposing you to that.”

“But Dad…” Hdvan could see the hope in his son’s eyes.

“Very well,” Hdvan said. “But just this once. And by Fate, do not tell your mother!” Grodosh’s face lit up, bouncing up and down on his toes. Secretly, Hdvan was glad to be doing this again. A guilty pleasure from the past. Utilising his life-force, he sucked in mana from the surrounding environment like a sponge absorbing water. As the energy entered his body and was bound to his will, he felt warm, invigorated. Focusing hard, Hdvan reached out an arm of this newly bound energy like a tentacle towards the stream. Once dipped inside, he began to vibrate it, trying to find the water’s frequency. Got it. He yanked on the energy like a length of rope and a huge wave of water spouted up from the stream, splashing cold and refreshing against the two draiven. Little fishes flopped helplessly to the ground.

Grodosh bounced up and down on the spot, mouth open in awe. Hdvan’s heart beat fast and hard, his blood pressure pressing at the back of his neck.

“Wow! Dad, that was amazing! You have to teach me!”

“No, no,” Hdvan said breathlessly. “You are far too young. There is far too much to think about, too much to go wrong. Far too dangerous.” Hdvan caught his breath, heart rate normalising. He knelt by the stream, cupped his hands and had a refreshing drink. Grodosh’s awe dimmed slightly. “Maybe when you have reached maturity. But only then, okay? First you must learn how to work hard for things.” Grodosh respectfully bowed to his father in acceptance, who bowed back. When they arose, they could see the bright shades brought about in both their faces. “Come now, let us make a meal of these fish before they flop back into the river,” Hdvan said.

Following the stream back home, their bellies were filled with fish. Grodosh carried the spears with yet more fish to take home. Hdvan kept thinking about the river. While drinking in the natural, liquid energy, he had felt young again. Had it been so long? He had almost forgotten how it felt. He tested taking in little gulps of mana as they walked. Warmth filled every extremity, pace quickening. He let in a little more.

“Hey, Dad, wait up!” Grodosh was many feet behind.

“Where is that youthful energy, eh? Catch up!” Hdvan began to jog.

“Da-ad,” his son whined, starting to catch up with a run. Hdvan quickened further and his son broke out into a sprint, dropping the spears, determined to beat his father.

“If I reach home before you, I will tell your mother you caught not one fish today!” he teased.

“That… not… fair…” Grodosh panted. Seeing his plight, Hdvan finally stopped, barely breathing any heavier. Grodosh stomped up to his father, exhausted. Bent over, he was panting and wheezing.

“Are you alright, Grodi?” Hdvan’s face darkened. His selfishness had brought pain to his own son. “I realised not how fast I-“

“Got you!” Grodosh yelled playfully and sprinted off ahead. He was definitely his son.

“Do not wander off the path alone, it may be dangerous!”

“That… will… not work!” Grodosh called back. “Just accept, I will win!” Hdvan ran after him, not drawing in any mana this time. He had earned this win. The trees began to part, the pine forest starting to clear. In the sky, something grey loomed. A shadow? Clouds? The sky was already completely blue, a rain cloud would be out of place hanging so low. Those flashes of memories flickered into his mind’s eye. Smoke.

“Grodosh! Stay back! The village is not safe!”

“I told you, dad. That will not work!”

“No, son! Stop!” Hdvan absorbed energy, a rush surging through his body. He ran, catching up to his son and grabbing his shoulder.

“No fair!”

“Listen,” his father spoke with urgency, pupils dilated, face scales darkened. “You stay here until I come for you, okay?” Grodosh nodded. Hdvan ran through the trees to the village. How could they have got here? Not again? And which dragon had made the flame? Vander’s made his lair far from here. Besides, Hdvan doubted he would still have a connection to Vander’s village now. Hronham always did his own thing.

Running past the stream, his tendrils of energy grabbed bucketfuls of water, following behind in great waves. The smell of cooking flesh reached Hdvan. He gagged, shivering. The forest cleared. The village approached. Hdvan flung his water with great effort to the fire in the centre of the village. As the mana left his body, he was light headed, heart beating twice as hard. The energy left his legs, water crashing against his own body as much as his intended target. Great splashes. Screams as he hit the ground. His body was so hot it steamed in the cold air. Eyes slowly opened to the scene. A boar had been roasting on an open fire with the community around it. Now, all stood drenched - embers, villagers and boar. Elder Jerte stormed over with dripping clothes.

“What do you think this is?” he yelled. “Are you insane? The war is over. We have been free of the need of dragon fire for years now. The same goes for their riders, mage or no.” He sneered at the wheezing, pathetic mess on the floor before him. From the corner of his eyes, Hdvan saw his son on the edge of the forest. In his face was a dim disappointment.

“You won, after all,” he said.

Hdvan lay awake that night in his hovel. At the center was a fire, dying down now. Smoke escaped through the hole in the roof. Hdvan had to turn away from it, instead facing the wall, coated with animal fat and straw to keep in the warmth. Was he really going insane? He mused. He could have sworn that smell, those screams… All he knew was that right now, he felt weak. Absorbing a little mana warmed him like a blanket. Now, he felt safe, like a baby in its wrapping. Like this, he fell asleep.

A red horizon lay before him, plumes of smoke rising like a black forest. Surrounded by darkness. Howls like wolves cleft the air in disharmony. The bestial creatures lurked beyond the veil. Moonlight reflected in shattered forms of teeth, claws and eyes. The howls grew like a discordant orchestra, singing a tale of doom. With fleshy, bat-like noses and large, pointed ears, the bestial faces revealed themselves. Narvon roared as he belched death on to his enemies. Screams rung in his ears like clanging bells. The burning stench of their corpses clung rebelliously to the inside of his flattened nose as he lit the horizon alight a second time.

Smoke cleared, blackened skeletons and charred remains littered the ground. Crunching. Narvon tucked in. Hdvan’s stomach lurched. Amongst the blackened ground, familiar faces emerged. Draiven. All that he had lost, ripped and torn by foul jaws. Their gnarled corpses rose from the ground like marionettes. His friends began floating around, feet dragging on the ground. Now they had no sign of damage. Vander stood before him. Hdvan’s heart rose then sank like a ship on stormy seas. This was wrong. The dead should stay dead.

“Hdvan, dear. It happened again,” came Grota’s voice. Hdvan’s eyes slowly opened. Splinters of firewood were dragging around the floor space like leaves caught in a spiralling wind. They kept close to the floor, half-floating like the friends in his dream. Slowly, they stopped and rested once more on the ground.

“Was he doing dream magic again?” Grodosh awed. “Aw, I missed it…”

“Are you alright?” Grota said. Hdvan regarded her, her sagging purple scales and dark green eyes. “This has not happened in years. Same dream again?” There was no use trying to hide his white face. Hdvan nodded. “You need to see the healer.”

“You know what they would do,” he said. “No herb exists that may heal this mind.”

“The priest, then. Perhaps he may ask Fate for a cure.”

“No, Fate cannot help me now.” With great effort he made a grunt as he got off the bed. Was he really so old now? It seemed like only yesterday that he was training with the Strom Magi.

Alone, Hdvan set off away from the village towards the foothills of the Crypt Mountains. Past the path to the crypts he went, past blueberry bushes and the windswept outcrops. A great hole gouged in the side of the mountains was his destination. Clear, refreshing air was replaced by a warm, musty smell. He sniffed, searching for any signs of recent burning, but there were none. Hdvan hoped his old friend would be still there, and hadn’t yet gone into hibernation. The floor and walls were uneven, pock-marked with indentations and claw-marks. Small puddles of water filled some of these craters. In his hand was a burning lantern, making the uneven surfaces dance with the web of shadows cast.

The lack of a recent burning smell meant his friend may have gone into hibernation already. Hdvan’s heart began to sink. He called out his friend’s name. “Narvon! Please tell me you are still here. Tell me your power yet remains, at least for a day more.” A long growl echoed throughout the tunnel in reply, like an anchor being dragged across stone. Iridescent black scales shimmered like an aurora beneath the lamplight. Bright yellow eyes reflected the light like flames, silvery horns adorning the back of his head like moonbeams shining through the pine canopy. Narvon’s curved head bowed low. Hdvan did the same, a respectful, full-bodied bow. His face grew brighter in happiness.

“How have you been, old friend?” Hdvan said, placing a hand on Narvon’s warm, scaled neck. Warmth of the hard scales gave Hdvan comfort. “Just you and me now. My last comrade.” Hdvan paced around the beast, taking in its sleek, serpentine form. “What is this?” Hdvan pointed out a scratch on Narvon’s body. Scales had parted to reveal a gouge of red. “Who did this? What have you been up to?” Narvon shifted away and hid the wound with its folded, leathery wing. Placing his legs out in front of him, he rested his head. “What have I told you about fighting with Hronham? Vander would be so disappointed to hear you still fight with his dragon.” Narvon looked away. “Listen, I just wanted to see you before you went into your Dragon Sleep. What with Vander now gone… It made me think about things, you know? Just us now. It seems you are already running out of power if your wounds are not healing so fast and you refrain from burning your food. I must hurry, then. Worry not, I will let you sleep in due time. You can breathe in your magical energy and restore your power, and I may not see you again in this lifetime…” His voice trailed off to a whisper. “But first, what say you to a little ride? Eh? One last flight before you go?” Narvon looked up to Hdvan with his golden eyes, brow ridges rising, but didn’t lift his head from the ground. “Come on,” Hdvan urged, scratching Narvon’s wing and unfolding it. Narvon unfolded and stretched it the rest of the way. “See! Just like old times, eh? Do you really want to be cramped up in this cave? Let us give your wings a bit of a stretch.” Narvon got to his feet. Both wings stretched out as if ready to fly, but quickly followed was the gaping mouth of a silent yawn. He stretched his legs before collapsing once more to his resting position. “Too drained even for that, eh?”

Hdvan exhaled into the warm cave air. He placed the lantern on the ground, slumped down and sat, resting his back against the body of his friend. From his pouch he took a pipe and a few brown leaves. “I think Grota can forgive me for not sharing. It is a special occasion, after all,” he said, rolling them into a cigar. He unclasped the lantern and used the resin candle to light it, sucking warm smoke into his lungs and relaxing with a satisfying exhalation, small coughs tickling his throat towards the end. His body relaxed, muscles loosening like silken knots. “The thing is, you truly understand. You think Grota knows what it was like? What we went through? I tell her, she listens, but by Fate she fails at pretending to understand. You were there.” Hdvan breathed deep the whiff of burning leaves. Flashes of memories flickered past his mind’s eye. The smell of the burning beasts hit him hard. Narvon slid his neck round to look at his rider. Hdvan looked into his placid eyes. “You have no conscience, do you not? How I envy you. No conscience, no fear, no self-awareness. Pah, and here I am talking to you. You cannot even talk back. Wish Grota would take a leaf from your book sometimes…

“Who would have thought this moment would come, eh? You used to want nothing to do with me. Fled at the mere sight of a draivan. I am glad you got over that, by Fate. Such a timid, small creature you were then. No bigger than a horse. Look at you now!” Hdvan took another puff. “Do you remember when we sat like this on our training days upon the cliffs of the west coast? The waters were calm those nights. Before the war. Before any of it.” Hdvan exhaled again. A low growl rumbled from Narvon’s throat. He raised his head and stretched with a yawn once more. His dark, membranous wings stretched out above Hdvan like the midnight sky. He looked up. “Is it time already, friend?” he choked, with a face washing cold like rain drizzling down a cliff face. One more puff from the cigar was taken, filling and then exiting his lungs with a wheezy cough. Narvon sluggishly rose to his feet, sliding Hdvan from his resting place, who reluctantly did the same. Narvon unsheathed his claws, stretched and turned to face the cave wall, deeper into the mountain. He pawed at the rock, testing it. A little rock crumbled away beneath near diamond-hard claws. Narvon snaked round to look at Hdvan who put his hand on his muzzle, patting his scales lovingly. “Off you go, old chap. Come now, before you reach my age already!” Narvon paused, then gently pressed his head against Hdvan’s body, sending a new wave of sadness down his face. After a short embrace, Narvon returned to the wall, pawing away great swathes of the rock. Dust filled the cavern. Hdvan put out the cigar with his fingers, placed it in his pouch and picked up the lantern. After one last, long bow to his last comrade, Hdvan’s heavy feet took him home, cheeks and rostra reflected in the berries he passed on the way.

The next day, Hdvan and his son left the village at noon. “Hurry now, we already have lost time,” Hdvan said.

“I blame you, Dad,” Grodosh said.

“I was not the one who dropped them,” Hdvan said. They kept going upstream, for there were no fish in their first one. Eventually they came to a clearing deep in Uljarn. The stream carved thick banks through the rock. They began to fish, Hdvan teaching his son more about it and other essential survival techniques. The hour grew late and they had yet to catch any fish. The wind howled through the clearing, sending chills down Hdvan’s back. It was far into the forest, he knew that, but he had to show his son he could provide and wasn’t the failure he saw wheezing on the ground the other day. At last the fish swam, but these were flightier than the others. The shadow of the draiven’s forms would simply scare them off, so they had to be crafty. Staying far on the bank, they would scout ahead downstream, throwing the spear into the water from afar. The sky grew dull, yet still the number of fish was low. They made idle chatter while they waited.

“So is it true? Narvon has entered Dragon Sleep?” Grodosh said.

“Yes, he lies beneath the Crypt Mountains,” replied his father. “There he recollects energy for another generation of wakefulness.”

“Aw, I wish I could have seen him again,” Grodosh said. “Can we not wake him up again?”

“No, no!” Hdvan quickly replied. “To wake a Dreaming dragon could mean death! Not just for the waker, but for the dragon. The process of a dragon absorbing energy is extremely inefficient. It takes such a long time, the only way its body can handle so much unbound energy entering its body is by keeping in its hibernating state.” Grodosh’s eyes had glazed over. There was a short silence.

“Can you not just catch some fish with your magic?” he said.

“No, Grodi, I cannot,” Hdvan said firmly. He knew it would take its toll hard this time. “We must learn to work hard for what we have in life.” The wind howled fiercer down the banks. Hdvan could have sworn he heard the sinister whistle of something more intelligent. His son saw his white face. “Nothing. It is nothing.” Yet still his stomach felt heavy. He eyed the treeline. Grodosh looked at Hdvan with concerned eyes, who straightened himself up. His eyes darted to the stream. “There! Quickly!” He pointed to the river and a large trout was lazily making its way across the shallows. Grodosh kept his eye on it, stalking it like a hawk. He readied his spear, calculated how far the trout would move, and threw. A plop as the spear hit the water. Grodosh rushed to the bank and took out the spear, juicy trout on the end. “Excellent work, Grodi!” Hdvan eyed the forests again. There was that noise again. A howl. The wind could hide it no longer. As the sun set the horizon on fire and the red moon began to rise, the baying of the beasts echoed around the glade. In the wrinkled surfaces of the rocks he saw faces of his friends, and in the rushing water were their voices, and someone calling his name. His heart was beating hard. On the fringe of the forest stood a figure. Then another. Together the howling grew. “Away!” Hdvan threw his spear at the figure.

“Dad?”

“Stay back!”

“It just-” Grodosh stopped with a gasp as he saw his father pull a length of water from the stream with his magic. It floated in mid-air, and with his hands he shaped it into a twisting swirl, an icicle of spiralling water with the tip a miniature whirlpool. With a yell of effort he threw his spear in the direction of the threat, staggering as he stepped forward. A yelp. Grodosh ran to the edge of the forest, his father too hunched over to see. Peering through the darkness, a slumped figure revealed itself. A bushy tail, four legs ending in paws, and a canine snout. “Dad, you just killed a wolf.” His father stood, loose fist shaking.

“I thought…” he stuttered. “I was sure…” Grodosh sighed.

“You thought wrong, Dad. But look, my Dad kills wolves like Yolshul! You saved us!”

“Yes, of course,” Hdvan said, masking his fear. Indeed, he may have saved his child, but deeper he felt himself sliding into madness.