Tomas ran through the cobblestone streets fleeing the dogs. He had crept down an alley drawn there by the scents of food, and found that the dogs had gotten there first. Immediately, they began to bark loudly and gave chase, unable to resist the urge of pursuing a cat.
Tomas jumped over piles of garbage and climbed up onto a roof. The dogs continued to bark for a few moments, but then scurried off in frustration. Tomas ran along the wooden shingles of the building and leapt to another structure. Using roofs of houses and shops as he path, he ran through the entirety of the city. When he arrived back at his humble residence, he let the transformation take place.
Transforming was uncomfortable, but not painful. The cat grew longer arms and legs, and the fur disappeared. Human flesh revealed itself, and Tomas then appeared as a young man, rather than an animal. Tomas stretched his muscles and quickly clothed himself. He walked over to the hearth and started a fire. He slept.
In the middle of the night, he was awakened by a great hunger. He stood from his bed and shifted back into cat-form. He pounced onto his window, and then bounded into the darkness of the city. With great flexibility and speed, he drifted in and out of shadows. He meowed at the moon, which formed a silver crescent above the city. Wagons rolled by, and Tomas leapt through and around the wheels dodging hooves of horses.
Following his nose, he detected the smells of a half-eaten fish nearby. He scurried down a street and quickly clawed a rat. He took a few small bites drawing blood. After swallowing a small bit of meat he licked himself clean and continued on his way. Rat was fine, but incomparable to fish. And a stomach could only hold so much food.
He located his target. In a wooden box outside the window of a home, sat a pile of refuse. And therein, was the fish. It was a large chunk of whitefish, left there after someone’s feast. Tomas dove in and began to rip the remains apart. This was what he had been craving.
Tomas ate most of his meals in cat-form. About three years ago, at the age of nineteen, he had gained the ability to alter his shape and become cat. The ability overtook him quickly, and was entirely unexpected. Reflecting on this new-found skill, he could find no cause or reason for its manifestation. However, he had learned to quickly make the most of it. Being able to reduce one’s size and move with the grace of a feline, proved valuable to a life of thievery.
As he licked the spine of the fish, savoring the last bits of meat, he smelled the approach of other animals. The dogs! Barking and growing filled the air, and Tomas fled down the wet cobblestone streets. Lanterns lighted the paths and street ways, and Tomas cast shadows as he slipped by. The dogs’ pursuits were far less graceful, and people stopped moving in fear of attack. Horses pulled back neighing in great alarm. The horses, people and cart wheels provided an obstacle to the dogs, and Tomas took advantage of this.
Barks and growls were still close by, but Tomas has approached the city wall. With some bounding leaps, he was up and over in a moment. Then, he headed toward a nearby wood. He planned to circle back around and climb back up the wall at a different location. The dogs would most likely give up hope of catching him in mere minutes. For now, the trees would serve as a refuge.
He found the darkness of the woods comfortable as first. Nearby Tomas heard the snapping noise of a twig breaking, and a clumsy footfall. He fled, and clawed his way up a tree. Looking down, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he scanned the ground, and saw nothing. He waited for a few moments, and then jumped from one branch to another along the trees. He retreated deep into the woods in a state of panic.
Once he had fled to what he perceived as apparent safety, he left the trees and alighted upon the ground. The moon hung bright in the sky, and gave him some light to find his way back to the city. He didn’t like being out here, as it was unfamiliar territory. He trekked back in the direction from where he had come, though along a different path. The boughs of the trees were shaky for an animal of his weight, so he preferred the ground, though he knew they were an option for him if he needed their refuge.
He wasn’t on his way very long when the forest sounded in chaos. A heart-stopping howl erupted nearby followed by the sound of fiercely advancing creatures. Tomas, who had the habit of fleeing quickly from any danger, merely froze motionless. Before it had been dogs, and now it was wolves! And they were approaching from all directions. Why couldn’t he move? The fear was debilitating.
Finally, he was able to move and he wasted no time. He lighted in a random direction. He knew that no matter which way he ran, he would have to face a beast head-on, so it didn’t matter which one he chose. With all his strength, he charged ahead as quickly as possible, and within seconds, his claws brought him up a tree. Barks, snarls and growls sounded from the ground below him. He stopped and waited, calculating his next step.
He could try to leap upon the boughs and attempt to flee, but a misstep would mean his death. He could wait, but the wolves might wait for him to fall and would get him then. While in the state of confusion, the wolves worked together to suddenly charge the tree, knocking it down to the forest floor. Surprised, Tomas suddenly took off on his four feet, striking up leaves in the air. The wolves were quick behind, gobs of slobber falling from their sinister jaws.
The pursuit continued for some minutes and Tomas began to tire. Though initially he was faster, the wolves were the true distance runners. It wouldn’t be long. Jumping up a tree might not work because he had broken some claws on his way down from the previous tree. He could only continue in desperation and hope that the wolves would give up.
Suddenly, up ahead of him, he saw some glowing lights. Sparks shot from them and were directed toward the wolves. The wolves faltered, as the spark pelted them. Tomas looked back and saw this, but didn’t take the time to figure out what was happening and kept running instead.
After some time, the wolves turned back, and the glowing lights flew quickly to catch up with Tomas. Tomas was spent, and was forced to stop moving as his exhaustion overtook him. The lights circulated around him, and unnerving as they were, he had no energy to flee from him. They had saved him from the wolves, but were they malevolent?
As they circled him his eyes focused and he was able to see them in greater detail. They were faeries! Armed with tiny bow and fiery arrows they had attacked the wolves, allowing his escape. Now they fluttered near to him, beating their gossamer wings. They gathered in the front of him and teasingly pulled on his whiskers. He shook his head in annoyance. They then flew slightly ahead, beckoning him to follow. He did.
As he followed the faeries, he didn’t feel tired. Somehow, his exhaustion had left him, and he felt empowered once again. The faeries led him deep into the massive forest, and he followed, not really knowing why and not questioning. As he following the glowing faeries deeper and deeper into the wood, the place took on a more ancient feel. Moss, which seemed hundreds of years old clustered on massive oaks, which stood as guardians in this verdant land.
Up ahead of Tomas, the faeries stopped. He approached them on eager paws. He caught up with the faeries and stopped in amazement. Ahead of him was a village amongst the trees. Rope bridges and vine covered huts swayed in the bows above him. Candles and hand-made lanterns glowed in windows. As he stood there aghast, the faeries retreated, and vanished into the dark wilderness. Then, something else began to approach.
Tomas remembered the wolves, as creatures began to approach from all directions. However, these were much quicker. In seconds, the animals were visible. A variety of felines now surrounded him. They greatly varied in both size and type. Most were lynxes, but in this mix were also large leopards, panthers and even a tiger. Before his eyes, the cats transformed, becoming men, women and children. The variety was still there, in size and appearance. The people seemed to come from all reaches of the land, showing differences in style of dress, hair thickness, and skin tone. He too suddenly felt it prudent to transform, and he did so.
A lovely lady with tan skin approached from the circle that surrounded him. Her eyes were dark amber, and her hair was composed of black silky strands. He guessed she was from the far-off lands to the South, known as the “burning sands”.
“Welcome home,” she said. Her accent was alluring, and her voice gentle.
He smiled.
Legend of Thalien the Wasp
The pegasus soared higher and higher into the air. Thalien looked down from his steed and eyed the ground below. The exhilaration of being so high caused excitement to course through his elven blood. Up ahead, the harpies ascended the clouds and he caught notice of their dive toward him. He reached behind him and drew forth his bow.
He notched an arrow in the string of his weapon and used his knees to guide the pegasus to turn around. Now he faced the creatures head on, and his steed began a charge. Rider and mount slashed though the air, and the harpies seemed confused. The creatures seemed a combination of half-naked women, and half vulture, and were completely hideous. Thalien took notice of their ugliness as he let fly an arrow. The target widened her eyes, and froze in fear, as the projectile pierced her black heart. She fell, spinning, and shrieking, toward the green earth below.
Thalien turned his head just in time to keep his eye from being torn out by a harpy’s claw. He kept his eye, but two parallel gashes were now visible right along his cheekbone. Blood flowed down into his mouth, and he spat. He would be scarred.
The harpy, who had slashed him, and two others, were now hovered close in a group behind him. He held the bow in one hand and gripped the reins in the other. He directed the pegasus to a hard right turn, and brought forth another arrow to the bow. He targeted one of the she-monsters, and fired. The arrow hit her jaw on one side and impaled the sinister flesh so deep that it protruded from the other side. She flailed her wings and limbs about in an expression of pain and panic. Her cries filled the sky like a high-pitched thunder from hell, and Thalien winced. Quickly, he released another arrow, striking her wing, and an artery was severed. Blood seemed to turn the sky red, as the creature fell toward the waiting ground.
The remaining two employed a strategic maneuver, and flew in opposite directions. The pegasus, without Thalien’s direction, anticipated their maneuver attempting to flank him, and he responded. He headed to his left and flew with all his might. At the same time, Thalien notched two arrows into his elven bow simultaneously, and drew back. He twisted and faced the creature behind him. Her claws extended as if she were reaching for a morsel of meat. He released, and hit her left wing. Losing control only for a moment, she turned and headed for the concealment of the clouds.
Meanwhile, the pegasus had gained on its own target. The winged hag attempted to latch on the steed’s leg and take a bite. The Pegasus proved too fast, and a hoof thanked into the harpy’s skull. Thalien, not wanting to take any chances, quickly grabbed an arrow out of his quiver and jabbed it into her face. Not even taking a moment to observe the effects of his actions, he guided the Pegasus higher into the air.
In and out of clouds the pair passed. Watching closely and scanning in all directions, they took no notice of the final foe. Not trusting the hungry bitches to give up, even in the losing tide of battle, Thalien kept his guard up. Then, they eyed a red-skinned female breast when a cloud drifted, and the harpy was charging them like a boulder fired from a catapult. Thalien drew and arrow and fired. With a limber twisting motion, the harpy dodged the arrow. The Pegasus and harpy closed and Thalien fired again. The vulture-woman dived suddenly, and caused Thalien’s shot to miss again.
Again, they had lost their target. Thalien considered evasive action, but he knew the creature would pursue them and strike unexpectedly. The Pegasus too, would not allow him to give up. The creature was a warrior, and would fight until victorious, or die trying. From the empty expanse of sky, the foul she-vulture appeared and raked the Pegasus’s wings with sharp, dirty claws. Thalien drew back with deft speed, but the harpy proved quicker. She snatched his bow and cast it aside, while giving Thalien’s mount and quick snapping bite on his neck. With a flap of bleeding wings, she disappeared once again.
The winged-horse was in pain, and filled with rage. He was bleeding, and had major difficulties flying. Thalien patted the beast and looked for a place to land. It was best to battle the creatures in the air, but with his mount unable to fly, the pair had no choice. He began to descend.
On the way down the Pegasus began to shiver. Thalien could feel the tension rise in his steed. Thalien too felt uneasy, as if their enemy were here but unseen. His hand went to the side of his left calf, and he drew forth a short sword. As he gripped the blade, he rose to his feet so that he was standing in the saddle. He turned to face behind him and leapt from the animal. White cloud vapor obscured what was in that direction, but Thalien trusted intuition.
The harpy charged forward, appearing confident in concealment. She widened her eyes in horror as Thalien flew toward her, silver blade extended. With two hands gripping the weapon overhead, he pushed it down deep inside her. Her chest was broken and her life gone, and so quickly that she no sound expressed her demise.
For a moment, Thalien was motionless. Then he looked down, and the earth rushed to meet him. Air surged all about him, and no thoughts entered his head. There was nothing to do. As he fell, he simply watched. It would soon be over.
The Pegasus rushed toward him and was diving fast toward the ground. It was rushing to get below him, but time was running out and he was not fast enough. Swooping from the opposite direction, two sets of giant talons snatched Thalien by his shirt. Looking up, Thalien saw that the claws holding him belonged to a griffon. Thalien preferred to be killed by the fall rather than what was about to occur.
The griffon set down, and was about to hack at the elf with his beak. Then, the creature noticed something tastier in the grass around him. Three harpies had landed here, and they were freshly killed. These the griffon could not resist. It left Thalien and walked over to the bloodied she-vultures. It used its stone-sharpened beak to rip flesh and eat.
Thalien cautiously drew back, in a strategic escape. Amazingly, he looked down and saw his bow lying next to his foot. He snatched it and quickened his pace, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. The Pegasus descended, and Thalien mounted. They alighted and circled away.
Passing over the dining griffon, Thalien drew forth his last arrow, and fired it directly below. The griffon dug its beak into the harpy’s liver and swallowed the organ whole. Instantly, an arrow skewered its skull, and impaled both brain and neck. Thalien placed his bow on his back next to the empty quiver and guided the Pegasus in the direction of Greenhaven. They needed bandages and more arrows.
He notched an arrow in the string of his weapon and used his knees to guide the pegasus to turn around. Now he faced the creatures head on, and his steed began a charge. Rider and mount slashed though the air, and the harpies seemed confused. The creatures seemed a combination of half-naked women, and half vulture, and were completely hideous. Thalien took notice of their ugliness as he let fly an arrow. The target widened her eyes, and froze in fear, as the projectile pierced her black heart. She fell, spinning, and shrieking, toward the green earth below.
Thalien turned his head just in time to keep his eye from being torn out by a harpy’s claw. He kept his eye, but two parallel gashes were now visible right along his cheekbone. Blood flowed down into his mouth, and he spat. He would be scarred.
The harpy, who had slashed him, and two others, were now hovered close in a group behind him. He held the bow in one hand and gripped the reins in the other. He directed the pegasus to a hard right turn, and brought forth another arrow to the bow. He targeted one of the she-monsters, and fired. The arrow hit her jaw on one side and impaled the sinister flesh so deep that it protruded from the other side. She flailed her wings and limbs about in an expression of pain and panic. Her cries filled the sky like a high-pitched thunder from hell, and Thalien winced. Quickly, he released another arrow, striking her wing, and an artery was severed. Blood seemed to turn the sky red, as the creature fell toward the waiting ground.
The remaining two employed a strategic maneuver, and flew in opposite directions. The pegasus, without Thalien’s direction, anticipated their maneuver attempting to flank him, and he responded. He headed to his left and flew with all his might. At the same time, Thalien notched two arrows into his elven bow simultaneously, and drew back. He twisted and faced the creature behind him. Her claws extended as if she were reaching for a morsel of meat. He released, and hit her left wing. Losing control only for a moment, she turned and headed for the concealment of the clouds.
Meanwhile, the pegasus had gained on its own target. The winged hag attempted to latch on the steed’s leg and take a bite. The Pegasus proved too fast, and a hoof thanked into the harpy’s skull. Thalien, not wanting to take any chances, quickly grabbed an arrow out of his quiver and jabbed it into her face. Not even taking a moment to observe the effects of his actions, he guided the Pegasus higher into the air.
In and out of clouds the pair passed. Watching closely and scanning in all directions, they took no notice of the final foe. Not trusting the hungry bitches to give up, even in the losing tide of battle, Thalien kept his guard up. Then, they eyed a red-skinned female breast when a cloud drifted, and the harpy was charging them like a boulder fired from a catapult. Thalien drew and arrow and fired. With a limber twisting motion, the harpy dodged the arrow. The Pegasus and harpy closed and Thalien fired again. The vulture-woman dived suddenly, and caused Thalien’s shot to miss again.
Again, they had lost their target. Thalien considered evasive action, but he knew the creature would pursue them and strike unexpectedly. The Pegasus too, would not allow him to give up. The creature was a warrior, and would fight until victorious, or die trying. From the empty expanse of sky, the foul she-vulture appeared and raked the Pegasus’s wings with sharp, dirty claws. Thalien drew back with deft speed, but the harpy proved quicker. She snatched his bow and cast it aside, while giving Thalien’s mount and quick snapping bite on his neck. With a flap of bleeding wings, she disappeared once again.
The winged-horse was in pain, and filled with rage. He was bleeding, and had major difficulties flying. Thalien patted the beast and looked for a place to land. It was best to battle the creatures in the air, but with his mount unable to fly, the pair had no choice. He began to descend.
On the way down the Pegasus began to shiver. Thalien could feel the tension rise in his steed. Thalien too felt uneasy, as if their enemy were here but unseen. His hand went to the side of his left calf, and he drew forth a short sword. As he gripped the blade, he rose to his feet so that he was standing in the saddle. He turned to face behind him and leapt from the animal. White cloud vapor obscured what was in that direction, but Thalien trusted intuition.
The harpy charged forward, appearing confident in concealment. She widened her eyes in horror as Thalien flew toward her, silver blade extended. With two hands gripping the weapon overhead, he pushed it down deep inside her. Her chest was broken and her life gone, and so quickly that she no sound expressed her demise.
For a moment, Thalien was motionless. Then he looked down, and the earth rushed to meet him. Air surged all about him, and no thoughts entered his head. There was nothing to do. As he fell, he simply watched. It would soon be over.
The Pegasus rushed toward him and was diving fast toward the ground. It was rushing to get below him, but time was running out and he was not fast enough. Swooping from the opposite direction, two sets of giant talons snatched Thalien by his shirt. Looking up, Thalien saw that the claws holding him belonged to a griffon. Thalien preferred to be killed by the fall rather than what was about to occur.
The griffon set down, and was about to hack at the elf with his beak. Then, the creature noticed something tastier in the grass around him. Three harpies had landed here, and they were freshly killed. These the griffon could not resist. It left Thalien and walked over to the bloodied she-vultures. It used its stone-sharpened beak to rip flesh and eat.
Thalien cautiously drew back, in a strategic escape. Amazingly, he looked down and saw his bow lying next to his foot. He snatched it and quickened his pace, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. The Pegasus descended, and Thalien mounted. They alighted and circled away.
Passing over the dining griffon, Thalien drew forth his last arrow, and fired it directly below. The griffon dug its beak into the harpy’s liver and swallowed the organ whole. Instantly, an arrow skewered its skull, and impaled both brain and neck. Thalien placed his bow on his back next to the empty quiver and guided the Pegasus in the direction of Greenhaven. They needed bandages and more arrows.
The Song of Kag
The autumn did not bring fair bodings for the vale. The township, under the direction of the thane Dolgin, would most likely be facing starvation. In addition, there was another threat coming from the west in the land of Tulfar. The thane of Tulfar arrived in the vale to meet with Dolgin to attempt to elicit aid. During this time, Kag too was present, for he too had news to share.
“How are you with the preparations for winter, good Dolgin?” asked Wulf, the thane of Tulfar. As the two old men spoke, Kag mostly ignored them, sipping at his boar stew which had been prepared for all attending guests by Gertrude, Dolgin’s youngest daughter. His mind wandered to thoughts of Gertrude, for she had much more to offer a man than her stew, as delicious and well-seasoned as it was.
As he eyed her he took notice of her shapely curves and healthy chest. Her hair hung from her shoulders in silky spider-woven strands of gold, shining in the fire. Her eyes reminded him of two full moons, side by side in the single night, and her lips were the ripe apples waiting to be plucked.
“What say you, Kag?” asked Dolgin, startling the huge man. Kag was dumbfounded and tried to speak a response that would not alert the old man to the desires he felt for Gertrude.
Kag’s response was much like all of his responses, not tailored for any situation but universal and applicable to all. “Tell me what you want, and what you have to offer. I am a man of action, not of thought and careful planning. Cunning is something that I leave to old men and gods.” Kag continued, “There is another matter of import to both of you though, I am afraid.”
“The dragon will surely come to the vale once it is finished with us,” stated Wulf, his long white beard shaking as he spoke. Kag drank more of the stew, allowing the bits of boar-flesh to collect amongst his teeth. He chewed the huge chunks of meat savoring the flavor. Glancing to his left he noticed the thane’s dogs in an amorous situation. The male, Kognar had mounted the bitch, Glif, and was making his will known. The panting became louder and as the two dogs became more entwined in the moment. Kag’s thoughts drifted to Gertrude once again, and he wondered how she would sound bent over, and panting.
“Kag”, said Wulf. “How might this dragon be slain?”
“With spear, with stone, with sword. Some way, all creatures eventually meet their doom. But there is another matter which deserves our attentions.” Kag continued. “Dolgin, you asked me to look into what treachery may be disrupting our food supply. I have discovered the problem, and I think it is not too late to prepare for winter. There is a great beast, Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth, a massive bear that resides north of the stream. His fur is the color of snow and his mouth is ever covered with browned blood. His teeth are like arrows and jut out from his jaw like jagged stones. His eyes shed black tears in lament that he cannot consume souls as he consumes flesh. He eats many a fish and beasts, and mayhap men if they sojourn in his direction. As long as he lives, the fishermen shall continue to return empty handed. And the hunters will not find their quarry.”
Wulf spoke “A dragon and a great bear!” he said. “We are beset on both sides!”
Dolgin placed his hand on Kag’s massive arm. “Tell us, how can our warriors be in two places at once?” As he spoke, Gertrude came into the room bringing the men massive mugs of ale, which she herself had brewed some time past.
“Keep your warriors nearby. Have them assist the fishermen so that the folk will have food. I will take care of this problem myself, and be done with it in three days’ time. I will slay both bear and beast, and survive to tell the tale that shall be turned into song.” Kag rubbed his chin as he began to think and calculate.
Dolgin asked, “What will your payment be?”
“I shall name my own reward”, replied Kag. “I will take Gertrude as my wife.”
“What?” came Dolgin’s response.
“I shall have your daughter as my bride, and I will fill her belly with many children.” Kag beamed with a sinister smile.
As she was walking into the kitchen, Gertrude nearly dropped some wooden plates. She had heard Kag and was shocked. She ran to her mother, who had been eavesdropping. She hugged her daughter and spoke softly in her ear. “Don’t worry child. No man can survive that undertaking. Killing both dragon and great monstrous bear! He will surely be separated from his legs and head. I only hope that he can slay at least one, so we can deal with the other. A fine bride you would be, but a poor and vicious son he would make. Have no fear.”
Gertrude was afraid. And Kag knew his prize would be greater than gems or gold, for Gertrude was the greatest treasure in the land. Her stew, her ale, and her thighs. All would be his.
Kag rose in the morn and bathed himself in the river, cleaning his skin with small patches of snow. He always bathed before battle, but he knew not why. Perhaps it was because if he fell, he wanted to make himself presentable in Valhalla. Kag had no doubts concerning Valhalla, and he expected the best treatment when he should arrive.
He took out his father’s stone and used it to sharpen his grandfather’s sword, Helfdar. Helfdar had slain many a foe, and he intended to put it to use slaying many more.
He had spied Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth previously, and felt that no further investigation was warranted at this time. It was the dragon that he need learn about. He had never eyed one personally, but about them he had heard many tales. The tales always found them to be wanton of destruction, evil to the core, and ever hungry. Some legends spoke of lairs in cavern filled with gold and jewels.
He traveled in the direction of Tulfar, hoping to meet at least one cowardly peasant who could point him in the right direction. He traveled five days and spoke with the common folk, garnering what information he could. Though he found this tedious, thoughts of Gertrude kept him motivated. Finally, after wandering for countless hours and backtracking more than once, he found a jagged opening in the side of a small mountain.
The door to the cavern was high and rough, and wide enough for two wagons to enter abreast. It was noon, and the sun, though obscured by clouds was directly overhead. He approached the opening slowly and cautiously, with blade in hand, ready to thrust, slice and hack if need be. Ironically, however, he hadn’t come here to fight, but rather to talk. The battle would come much later.
Armed with his grandfather’s sword, Helfdar, and his newly found burning spear, which he had dubbed Lightbringer, Kag trekked north through snow and freezing mist. His destination was Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth, a giant malformed white bear who ate all in his path.
Following the River of the Vale, Kag heaved his way across the jagged and icy terrain, occasionally meeting with copses of trees. He ate what he could find, and when thirsty, drank from the river or chewed on blocks of ice.
Eventually, he came to the place that was the home of Abtrax. At first, he did not see the great bear, but could tell that he had been here not long ago. The snow was crushed, and a nauseating stench filled the air. Though strong winds had began to blow across the icy plain, the smell of the beast lingered. Here, the white was not white, but rather a mixture of browns and reds, created by the filth and blood left by the beast to litter the ground.
Kag glanced in all directions, looking for tracks and an indication of the direction in which the thing had traveled. Finding nothing, Kag looked for high ground. He made his way up a high ledge where he could survey the area. Then he saw it! The bear was half the size of Dulgin’s mead hall. He understood immediately why the folk of the vale couldn’t find any fish. The bear would need plenty of meat to fill its girth.
While standing atop the high ground, Kag watched as the bear made his way toward him. Peering at the creature, Kag got a sick sense in his gut, and controlled the urge to wrench. The fur on this thing was white, but it had become darkened due to the blood and grime that it collected. It was gnawing on the bones of a seal as it heavily approached Kag. As it became closer, it spat the bone out of the side of his mouth, revealing not one, but two rows of teeth on both the top and bottom jaws. Kag, witnessing this mutation, speculated that some foul sorcery was at hand in creating this monstrosity.
Abtrax spoke, “Why have you not fled? Surely you feel terror when you gaze upon my visage.”
“I must admit that I do,” Kag lied. “I have come here of great peril to myself. Surely any man would feel the same as I do now, gazing upon our strong and powerful protector.”
“I protect nothing. I eat men, when they are foolish enough to be near.” After speaking these words the bear began to approach once again, opening its malformed jaws. Kag took a step back strategically and deviously, and with stealth, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword which was sheathed.
“Eat me if you must, great one,” Kag stated. “But I am here to show my thanks. Without you to be here, other bears and monsters would enter our vale, and they would gobble up our great scaly beast. We plan to slaughter him in a month or two, when the time of the great cold approaches. Because of your protection, we can have our great yearly feast and there will be food for all.”
After pronouncing this proclamation, Kag turned on his heel, spear strapped to his back, and turned to travel back in the direction from whence he came. To his luck, a misty wind began to blow, and stirred up snow and ice, concealing his escape and obscuring the general area. A fish flapped in the water, and Abtrax thrust his claw into the river making a great splash and retrieving the lively animal. With a single motion the tossed the meaty swimmer into his throat, swallowing it whole. Thinking his sharp teeth should not go unused, he began to approach Kag, only then realizing that the man was no longer there.
Abtrax stepped about, stomping ice and snow below his giant paws. There were no tracks, nor any other sign that the man had been here. Abtrax, though not hungry, began to desire manflesh. The bear looked for a comfortable place to nap the day away. When he found a stony ledge, still sheltering stalks of grass and some tree branches, he curled up and began to snore the day away. In the morning, he would set off for the vale on an empty stomach, which he would fill with men, women, and screaming children.
He journey further into the jagged crack that the dragon called home, using his instincts and sense of scent as his guides. Looking up, the ceiling extended further than his sight, and more distant than the light of the torch that he was holding. How tall was this creature? When he had trekked forty paces inside, he called out, “Dragon! Show yourself!”
Silence filled the chamber.
Then, a long rumbling sigh.
“Another foolish soul comes to make a legend for himself,” came a reply from deeper in the cave, and deeper in the shadows. “I have yet to eat, so I only hope that you are fat. Do us a good deed and sprinkle herbs upon yourself.” With that a great rumbling echoed in the rocky cavern. It was a great rustling and wind blew forth from the recesses of the lair. Kag imagined the fiend was flexing his wings, trying to unsettle him. The dragon would surely attempt to use fear to his advantage.
Kag had something to use to his advantage as well. Pride. “You could eat me. However, a great dragon of your size and girth requires a heartier meal. Have you ever eaten bear?”
“Many times, and just this morning, in fact,” came the reply from the creature.
“What about the flesh of the great bear Abtrax?” Kag led him into the trap he had fore planned. The folk say that he is almost as large as ye, and that in battle you would be evenly matched. Some even say that he could take a dragon easily. The folk are making wagers, with what little gold they have.”
With that the dragon had had enough, and he had begun to surge forward. At the same time, however, Kag had sensed the dragon’s forthcoming actions and he had retreated to the cave opening. He leapt outside and began to foot his way around the mountain paths instead of straight away from the opening. The dragon flew out of the cave in search of Kag and continued flying in the straight path, sure the man had taken off on horseback. ‘First I will slay that fool, then I’ll be done with the bear’, the dragon thought to himself. The dragon wanted the fear of the folk, and would suffer no competitor in that endeavor.
Kag watched the beast leave and fade into the distant horizon. A thought emerged in his mind, that this would be a great opportunity to slip inside the dragon’s abode and confirm or refute rumors of treasure. He stepped inside relighting his torch. He headed straight to the rear of the jutting cavern. A foul metallic stench engulfed the place, so he quickened his steps until he reached it. The dragon was rich indeed!
Kag spotted many piles of gold and goblets enamored with many jewels. Weapons of fine forging laid strewn about, and many other particles of jewelry and precious things. Kag would need to come back to haul all of this away. Still, he wouldn’t leave empty-handed. He reached down to grab a tankard made of silver. Round the cup were inset series of green and blue stones. It would be a gift for Gertrude. From this cup she would drink in his honor. He also retrieved a strangely-fashioned spear. The haft was of a beautiful grain with a dark hue that must come from distant, foreign lands. It’s meal point, seemed to have the likeness of a silver fire, frozen in motion. This spear, would serve a good purpose in the story to come.
As he rounded to leave the abode of the beast, his torch blew out in a cold wind. He began to trod his way out, using his best internal senses to maintain his direction. Suddenly, the tip of the spear lit up in a blue flame, lighting his way. Kag beamed with excitement and surprise. A wide and hideous smile arrived on his face. Kag gripped the spear intently. He had found a new friend.
He set out in search of Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth.
He descended down a series of stone outcroppings and ran toward the hall of Dolgin. It was the tallest structure in the Vale, and would give him a vantage point for the entirety of the surrounding area. The sun broke through the autumn clouds and temporarily blinded him. The clouds quickly reestablished themselves obscuring the brightness. He stood aloft, and waited in patience as he observed Abtrax and the dragon enter the main pathway of the Vale.
The dragon drifted out of flight to the ground. Abtrax drew near with slow thunderous footfalls. Each beast slowly, compellingly, moved toward the other. When they were about twenty door-post lengths from one another they both stopped. For what seemed like a longer time than it was, the two animals stood in silence. This silence seemed to also capture the entire Vale, as well as the world itself for that distance that could be heard. Betwixt the two beasts, and above them on the roof of Dolgin’s hall stood Kag, unseen by all. In his hands he gripped the magical spear, Lightbringer, which began to glow in an ancient, arcane light. Kag gripped the shaft, and willed the light to dissipate, lest it deceive his concealment. The light continued to burn, warming his hands.
On the ground, the dragon began to speak, “So you are he who is called Abtrax?”
The bear replied, “I am fear. I have a rumble in my belly and I will fill it with the souls of the living.” It grinned, showing misshapen rows of yellowed crude teeth. Then, he added, “You…are…nothing.” Evil radiated from Abtrax’s eyes, a great darkness, like that of the night sky devoid of moon and star. The dragon extended its retractable claws and stood on his hindquarters.
“You, I will not eat. I feast only upon men, and not lesser creatures.” The dragon continued his insult, “However, your blood is surely filled with grease and fat, and from this I will apply moisture to my drying scales. For this, I thank you.”
Tiresome of the conversing, the bear growled and charged the dragon with all the speed it could muster. The dragon, simultaneously, reared back its head, opening his jaws and let forth a blast of volcanic fire. Like a great boulder, Abtrax crashed into the dragon, with numerous teeth and claws impaling the reptilian flesh. Blood spewed into the air and littered the roof of many homes and buildings. Simultaneously, the fur and skin of Abtrax seared and dissolved to charred dust, brought about by the dragon’s flame. The bear and dragon clashed again and again, each one sinking claws into the other and extruding life in return.
Kag watched closely from above. He gripped Lightbringer tightly, and an unseen flame warmed his hand. He was suddenly overcome with a vision, and saw himself as a raven, coursing through the sky. He, as a raven, looked down on the vale, and saw the clash of giant monsters. Watching, he saw the Abtrax finally overtake the dragon, by finally severing its head in a violent finale. The raven began to dive, beak directed at the weakened bear, and claws extended.
Kag leapt, with spear extended below him. Down he came, and his weapon plunged into the torso of a standing Abtrax. For a moment, time stood still. Kag’s grip tightened even more, and he looked into the shadowy eyes of Abtrax. Those eyes were dark, misty caverns filled with the cold of the world before time. Kag found himself drawn into those eyes, and Abtrax stared back. In Kag he saw just a boy, a weakling, a meal. Abtrax brought his own blacked and mangled arm up to grab the spear, attempting to pull it out of himself and cast it away. But something happened.
In Kag’s eyes emerged a bright, blue flame, burning with power and purity. Abtrax felt fear, and it was greater than the fear of death. Justice was at hand. The spear, impaled and set deep within him, began to throb with heat. A brightness cast from the weapon shed light throughout the Vale, and shadows dissipated.
A great charged thundered within the rib cage of Abtrax. Through an arcane and holy force, the bear exploded, and chunks of his being flew about, burnt even further. They thudded upon the ground, landing in various places. An eye landed on Kag’s boot, and he kicked it away.
He wiped the spear in the snow to clean off the powdery bits of blackened dry blood. In so doing, the blue fire in his eyes subsided, and he felt grounded, and calm. It seemed as if everything had happened in a strange kind of wakened dream. He shook the buzzing from his head and strapped the spear to his back. He turned in the direction of Dolgin’s hall. Arriving at the door, he gave it a thunderous kick. It fell.
“The deed is done. Get some fishermen to clean up the bear. Tell no one to eat of it. It is from Hell, and someone could contract its blackness of heart.” He spoke loudly. Dolgin emerged from the recesses of the hall to gaze upon Kag.
Dolgin called for his daughter. “Gertrude, bring us mead!”
The girl emerged from behind a wall carrying two wooden mugs and a tray of roasted deer ribs. The girl served her father first and walked over to Kag nervously. Dolgin chewed on the tough flesh as he eyed the barbarian cautiously. Gertrude handed Kag his ale and he downed it quickly and cast the mug aside. He then took the tray of meat and tossed it to the ground. He scooped up Gertrude in his massive and bloodied arms and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her legs in the air like a bundle of wood. He turned to face the door, and walked towards it. Dolgin gasped.
“I will return with her in the spring for a proper wedding,” Kag said. Then, he left. Obscured from her father by silky strands of golden hair, a smile emerged on Gertrude’s lips. Somewhere in the hall, her mother wept.
“How are you with the preparations for winter, good Dolgin?” asked Wulf, the thane of Tulfar. As the two old men spoke, Kag mostly ignored them, sipping at his boar stew which had been prepared for all attending guests by Gertrude, Dolgin’s youngest daughter. His mind wandered to thoughts of Gertrude, for she had much more to offer a man than her stew, as delicious and well-seasoned as it was.
As he eyed her he took notice of her shapely curves and healthy chest. Her hair hung from her shoulders in silky spider-woven strands of gold, shining in the fire. Her eyes reminded him of two full moons, side by side in the single night, and her lips were the ripe apples waiting to be plucked.
“What say you, Kag?” asked Dolgin, startling the huge man. Kag was dumbfounded and tried to speak a response that would not alert the old man to the desires he felt for Gertrude.
Kag’s response was much like all of his responses, not tailored for any situation but universal and applicable to all. “Tell me what you want, and what you have to offer. I am a man of action, not of thought and careful planning. Cunning is something that I leave to old men and gods.” Kag continued, “There is another matter of import to both of you though, I am afraid.”
“The dragon will surely come to the vale once it is finished with us,” stated Wulf, his long white beard shaking as he spoke. Kag drank more of the stew, allowing the bits of boar-flesh to collect amongst his teeth. He chewed the huge chunks of meat savoring the flavor. Glancing to his left he noticed the thane’s dogs in an amorous situation. The male, Kognar had mounted the bitch, Glif, and was making his will known. The panting became louder and as the two dogs became more entwined in the moment. Kag’s thoughts drifted to Gertrude once again, and he wondered how she would sound bent over, and panting.
“Kag”, said Wulf. “How might this dragon be slain?”
“With spear, with stone, with sword. Some way, all creatures eventually meet their doom. But there is another matter which deserves our attentions.” Kag continued. “Dolgin, you asked me to look into what treachery may be disrupting our food supply. I have discovered the problem, and I think it is not too late to prepare for winter. There is a great beast, Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth, a massive bear that resides north of the stream. His fur is the color of snow and his mouth is ever covered with browned blood. His teeth are like arrows and jut out from his jaw like jagged stones. His eyes shed black tears in lament that he cannot consume souls as he consumes flesh. He eats many a fish and beasts, and mayhap men if they sojourn in his direction. As long as he lives, the fishermen shall continue to return empty handed. And the hunters will not find their quarry.”
Wulf spoke “A dragon and a great bear!” he said. “We are beset on both sides!”
Dolgin placed his hand on Kag’s massive arm. “Tell us, how can our warriors be in two places at once?” As he spoke, Gertrude came into the room bringing the men massive mugs of ale, which she herself had brewed some time past.
“Keep your warriors nearby. Have them assist the fishermen so that the folk will have food. I will take care of this problem myself, and be done with it in three days’ time. I will slay both bear and beast, and survive to tell the tale that shall be turned into song.” Kag rubbed his chin as he began to think and calculate.
Dolgin asked, “What will your payment be?”
“I shall name my own reward”, replied Kag. “I will take Gertrude as my wife.”
“What?” came Dolgin’s response.
“I shall have your daughter as my bride, and I will fill her belly with many children.” Kag beamed with a sinister smile.
As she was walking into the kitchen, Gertrude nearly dropped some wooden plates. She had heard Kag and was shocked. She ran to her mother, who had been eavesdropping. She hugged her daughter and spoke softly in her ear. “Don’t worry child. No man can survive that undertaking. Killing both dragon and great monstrous bear! He will surely be separated from his legs and head. I only hope that he can slay at least one, so we can deal with the other. A fine bride you would be, but a poor and vicious son he would make. Have no fear.”
Gertrude was afraid. And Kag knew his prize would be greater than gems or gold, for Gertrude was the greatest treasure in the land. Her stew, her ale, and her thighs. All would be his.
Kag rose in the morn and bathed himself in the river, cleaning his skin with small patches of snow. He always bathed before battle, but he knew not why. Perhaps it was because if he fell, he wanted to make himself presentable in Valhalla. Kag had no doubts concerning Valhalla, and he expected the best treatment when he should arrive.
He took out his father’s stone and used it to sharpen his grandfather’s sword, Helfdar. Helfdar had slain many a foe, and he intended to put it to use slaying many more.
He had spied Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth previously, and felt that no further investigation was warranted at this time. It was the dragon that he need learn about. He had never eyed one personally, but about them he had heard many tales. The tales always found them to be wanton of destruction, evil to the core, and ever hungry. Some legends spoke of lairs in cavern filled with gold and jewels.
He traveled in the direction of Tulfar, hoping to meet at least one cowardly peasant who could point him in the right direction. He traveled five days and spoke with the common folk, garnering what information he could. Though he found this tedious, thoughts of Gertrude kept him motivated. Finally, after wandering for countless hours and backtracking more than once, he found a jagged opening in the side of a small mountain.
The door to the cavern was high and rough, and wide enough for two wagons to enter abreast. It was noon, and the sun, though obscured by clouds was directly overhead. He approached the opening slowly and cautiously, with blade in hand, ready to thrust, slice and hack if need be. Ironically, however, he hadn’t come here to fight, but rather to talk. The battle would come much later.
Armed with his grandfather’s sword, Helfdar, and his newly found burning spear, which he had dubbed Lightbringer, Kag trekked north through snow and freezing mist. His destination was Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth, a giant malformed white bear who ate all in his path.
Following the River of the Vale, Kag heaved his way across the jagged and icy terrain, occasionally meeting with copses of trees. He ate what he could find, and when thirsty, drank from the river or chewed on blocks of ice.
Eventually, he came to the place that was the home of Abtrax. At first, he did not see the great bear, but could tell that he had been here not long ago. The snow was crushed, and a nauseating stench filled the air. Though strong winds had began to blow across the icy plain, the smell of the beast lingered. Here, the white was not white, but rather a mixture of browns and reds, created by the filth and blood left by the beast to litter the ground.
Kag glanced in all directions, looking for tracks and an indication of the direction in which the thing had traveled. Finding nothing, Kag looked for high ground. He made his way up a high ledge where he could survey the area. Then he saw it! The bear was half the size of Dulgin’s mead hall. He understood immediately why the folk of the vale couldn’t find any fish. The bear would need plenty of meat to fill its girth.
While standing atop the high ground, Kag watched as the bear made his way toward him. Peering at the creature, Kag got a sick sense in his gut, and controlled the urge to wrench. The fur on this thing was white, but it had become darkened due to the blood and grime that it collected. It was gnawing on the bones of a seal as it heavily approached Kag. As it became closer, it spat the bone out of the side of his mouth, revealing not one, but two rows of teeth on both the top and bottom jaws. Kag, witnessing this mutation, speculated that some foul sorcery was at hand in creating this monstrosity.
Abtrax spoke, “Why have you not fled? Surely you feel terror when you gaze upon my visage.”
“I must admit that I do,” Kag lied. “I have come here of great peril to myself. Surely any man would feel the same as I do now, gazing upon our strong and powerful protector.”
“I protect nothing. I eat men, when they are foolish enough to be near.” After speaking these words the bear began to approach once again, opening its malformed jaws. Kag took a step back strategically and deviously, and with stealth, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword which was sheathed.
“Eat me if you must, great one,” Kag stated. “But I am here to show my thanks. Without you to be here, other bears and monsters would enter our vale, and they would gobble up our great scaly beast. We plan to slaughter him in a month or two, when the time of the great cold approaches. Because of your protection, we can have our great yearly feast and there will be food for all.”
After pronouncing this proclamation, Kag turned on his heel, spear strapped to his back, and turned to travel back in the direction from whence he came. To his luck, a misty wind began to blow, and stirred up snow and ice, concealing his escape and obscuring the general area. A fish flapped in the water, and Abtrax thrust his claw into the river making a great splash and retrieving the lively animal. With a single motion the tossed the meaty swimmer into his throat, swallowing it whole. Thinking his sharp teeth should not go unused, he began to approach Kag, only then realizing that the man was no longer there.
Abtrax stepped about, stomping ice and snow below his giant paws. There were no tracks, nor any other sign that the man had been here. Abtrax, though not hungry, began to desire manflesh. The bear looked for a comfortable place to nap the day away. When he found a stony ledge, still sheltering stalks of grass and some tree branches, he curled up and began to snore the day away. In the morning, he would set off for the vale on an empty stomach, which he would fill with men, women, and screaming children.
He journey further into the jagged crack that the dragon called home, using his instincts and sense of scent as his guides. Looking up, the ceiling extended further than his sight, and more distant than the light of the torch that he was holding. How tall was this creature? When he had trekked forty paces inside, he called out, “Dragon! Show yourself!”
Silence filled the chamber.
Then, a long rumbling sigh.
“Another foolish soul comes to make a legend for himself,” came a reply from deeper in the cave, and deeper in the shadows. “I have yet to eat, so I only hope that you are fat. Do us a good deed and sprinkle herbs upon yourself.” With that a great rumbling echoed in the rocky cavern. It was a great rustling and wind blew forth from the recesses of the lair. Kag imagined the fiend was flexing his wings, trying to unsettle him. The dragon would surely attempt to use fear to his advantage.
Kag had something to use to his advantage as well. Pride. “You could eat me. However, a great dragon of your size and girth requires a heartier meal. Have you ever eaten bear?”
“Many times, and just this morning, in fact,” came the reply from the creature.
“What about the flesh of the great bear Abtrax?” Kag led him into the trap he had fore planned. The folk say that he is almost as large as ye, and that in battle you would be evenly matched. Some even say that he could take a dragon easily. The folk are making wagers, with what little gold they have.”
With that the dragon had had enough, and he had begun to surge forward. At the same time, however, Kag had sensed the dragon’s forthcoming actions and he had retreated to the cave opening. He leapt outside and began to foot his way around the mountain paths instead of straight away from the opening. The dragon flew out of the cave in search of Kag and continued flying in the straight path, sure the man had taken off on horseback. ‘First I will slay that fool, then I’ll be done with the bear’, the dragon thought to himself. The dragon wanted the fear of the folk, and would suffer no competitor in that endeavor.
Kag watched the beast leave and fade into the distant horizon. A thought emerged in his mind, that this would be a great opportunity to slip inside the dragon’s abode and confirm or refute rumors of treasure. He stepped inside relighting his torch. He headed straight to the rear of the jutting cavern. A foul metallic stench engulfed the place, so he quickened his steps until he reached it. The dragon was rich indeed!
Kag spotted many piles of gold and goblets enamored with many jewels. Weapons of fine forging laid strewn about, and many other particles of jewelry and precious things. Kag would need to come back to haul all of this away. Still, he wouldn’t leave empty-handed. He reached down to grab a tankard made of silver. Round the cup were inset series of green and blue stones. It would be a gift for Gertrude. From this cup she would drink in his honor. He also retrieved a strangely-fashioned spear. The haft was of a beautiful grain with a dark hue that must come from distant, foreign lands. It’s meal point, seemed to have the likeness of a silver fire, frozen in motion. This spear, would serve a good purpose in the story to come.
As he rounded to leave the abode of the beast, his torch blew out in a cold wind. He began to trod his way out, using his best internal senses to maintain his direction. Suddenly, the tip of the spear lit up in a blue flame, lighting his way. Kag beamed with excitement and surprise. A wide and hideous smile arrived on his face. Kag gripped the spear intently. He had found a new friend.
He set out in search of Abtrax of the Elongated Teeth.
He descended down a series of stone outcroppings and ran toward the hall of Dolgin. It was the tallest structure in the Vale, and would give him a vantage point for the entirety of the surrounding area. The sun broke through the autumn clouds and temporarily blinded him. The clouds quickly reestablished themselves obscuring the brightness. He stood aloft, and waited in patience as he observed Abtrax and the dragon enter the main pathway of the Vale.
The dragon drifted out of flight to the ground. Abtrax drew near with slow thunderous footfalls. Each beast slowly, compellingly, moved toward the other. When they were about twenty door-post lengths from one another they both stopped. For what seemed like a longer time than it was, the two animals stood in silence. This silence seemed to also capture the entire Vale, as well as the world itself for that distance that could be heard. Betwixt the two beasts, and above them on the roof of Dolgin’s hall stood Kag, unseen by all. In his hands he gripped the magical spear, Lightbringer, which began to glow in an ancient, arcane light. Kag gripped the shaft, and willed the light to dissipate, lest it deceive his concealment. The light continued to burn, warming his hands.
On the ground, the dragon began to speak, “So you are he who is called Abtrax?”
The bear replied, “I am fear. I have a rumble in my belly and I will fill it with the souls of the living.” It grinned, showing misshapen rows of yellowed crude teeth. Then, he added, “You…are…nothing.” Evil radiated from Abtrax’s eyes, a great darkness, like that of the night sky devoid of moon and star. The dragon extended its retractable claws and stood on his hindquarters.
“You, I will not eat. I feast only upon men, and not lesser creatures.” The dragon continued his insult, “However, your blood is surely filled with grease and fat, and from this I will apply moisture to my drying scales. For this, I thank you.”
Tiresome of the conversing, the bear growled and charged the dragon with all the speed it could muster. The dragon, simultaneously, reared back its head, opening his jaws and let forth a blast of volcanic fire. Like a great boulder, Abtrax crashed into the dragon, with numerous teeth and claws impaling the reptilian flesh. Blood spewed into the air and littered the roof of many homes and buildings. Simultaneously, the fur and skin of Abtrax seared and dissolved to charred dust, brought about by the dragon’s flame. The bear and dragon clashed again and again, each one sinking claws into the other and extruding life in return.
Kag watched closely from above. He gripped Lightbringer tightly, and an unseen flame warmed his hand. He was suddenly overcome with a vision, and saw himself as a raven, coursing through the sky. He, as a raven, looked down on the vale, and saw the clash of giant monsters. Watching, he saw the Abtrax finally overtake the dragon, by finally severing its head in a violent finale. The raven began to dive, beak directed at the weakened bear, and claws extended.
Kag leapt, with spear extended below him. Down he came, and his weapon plunged into the torso of a standing Abtrax. For a moment, time stood still. Kag’s grip tightened even more, and he looked into the shadowy eyes of Abtrax. Those eyes were dark, misty caverns filled with the cold of the world before time. Kag found himself drawn into those eyes, and Abtrax stared back. In Kag he saw just a boy, a weakling, a meal. Abtrax brought his own blacked and mangled arm up to grab the spear, attempting to pull it out of himself and cast it away. But something happened.
In Kag’s eyes emerged a bright, blue flame, burning with power and purity. Abtrax felt fear, and it was greater than the fear of death. Justice was at hand. The spear, impaled and set deep within him, began to throb with heat. A brightness cast from the weapon shed light throughout the Vale, and shadows dissipated.
A great charged thundered within the rib cage of Abtrax. Through an arcane and holy force, the bear exploded, and chunks of his being flew about, burnt even further. They thudded upon the ground, landing in various places. An eye landed on Kag’s boot, and he kicked it away.
He wiped the spear in the snow to clean off the powdery bits of blackened dry blood. In so doing, the blue fire in his eyes subsided, and he felt grounded, and calm. It seemed as if everything had happened in a strange kind of wakened dream. He shook the buzzing from his head and strapped the spear to his back. He turned in the direction of Dolgin’s hall. Arriving at the door, he gave it a thunderous kick. It fell.
“The deed is done. Get some fishermen to clean up the bear. Tell no one to eat of it. It is from Hell, and someone could contract its blackness of heart.” He spoke loudly. Dolgin emerged from the recesses of the hall to gaze upon Kag.
Dolgin called for his daughter. “Gertrude, bring us mead!”
The girl emerged from behind a wall carrying two wooden mugs and a tray of roasted deer ribs. The girl served her father first and walked over to Kag nervously. Dolgin chewed on the tough flesh as he eyed the barbarian cautiously. Gertrude handed Kag his ale and he downed it quickly and cast the mug aside. He then took the tray of meat and tossed it to the ground. He scooped up Gertrude in his massive and bloodied arms and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her legs in the air like a bundle of wood. He turned to face the door, and walked towards it. Dolgin gasped.
“I will return with her in the spring for a proper wedding,” Kag said. Then, he left. Obscured from her father by silky strands of golden hair, a smile emerged on Gertrude’s lips. Somewhere in the hall, her mother wept.
The Chase in Darkwood
Gak and his crew stalked the creature. Unicorn meat! The trolls’ mouths watered just at the thought. Though he had never tasted it himself, it was the stuff of troll legends, rarely tasted but much talked about. He commanded his trolls to lay low and be still, as he lifted his head to sense his surroundings. His great nostrils widened, as he smelled the air. They were close.
The animal was moving at a debilitated speed, due to the trap that Gak had set. Trollkind learned long ago that due to their large size, they needed to rely on incapacitating their prey. Mastodons were another matter. He had only expected a bear or perhaps smaller game, but a unicorn meant that truly the Trollfather had seen fit to bless him. Every catch that a troll brought back to his clan would elevate his status in the tribe. And a unicorn roasting on the skewer would make him eligible to challenge the chief to the right of combat.
He advanced slowly and saw some blood on the leaf. The trap was designed to injure or possibly sever the legs of the animal. Due the unicorn’s nimbleness, it kept its legs when it sprung the trap, but one of its legs was most likely broken. Gak’s fingers gathered the blood and he brought his hand to his mouth. A massive warty toungue fell forth to lick up the red substance. Gak felt a surge of power. Tonight, he would dine on this beast.
The trolls steadily rolled forward and spotted the animal limping in a small clearing. Taking cover behind massive oaks the trolls waited for their master to give the order to leap. He held them back savoring the rare moment. Though the witches had given them herbs to smear on their bodies, he knew that the unicorn could smell them. The witches were wise but unicorns were intelligent, and had instinct that enabled them to dwell in Darkwood unseen. This was the first and only unicorn that the trolls had seen, and they were about to kill it. Gak tightened his grip on his crude wooden spear. He visualized the tip piercing the heart of the animal. He thought of eating that heart raw, perhaps while the unicorn was still alive. Surely the consumption of a unicorn heart would give him great power. He made a quick, sincere psychic prayer to the Trollfather. He readied his ankles for the pounce and behind him, his brothers followed his lead.
Suddenly there was a noise of a great rushing and rustling to the west of their position. The trolls turned their heads and saw a great stag being pursued by men on horses. The stag bounded into the same clearing in which the unicorn was resting.
“Humans!” whispered Gak.
The trolls had eaten men before, but it was a common food. Still, the babies needed meat and human-flesh might constitute a nice side item with the main course. He raised his fist, extended a single finger and twisted it in the direction of the humans. This was the signal for an attack. The trolls rushed toward the men with growls, screams and snarls. The men quickly drew their swords and aimed their bows. Spears thrusted, swords swung and jabbed, and arrows flew. Blood littered the forest floor as the two animals slowly backed up away from the fray.
The battle lasted a full twenty minutes, and in the end only Gak remained. He looked around and saw the five dead trolls and twenty-three dead humans. The horses had bounded away, and there was no unicorn, nor a stag. He was only lightly injured, and so would be able to get back to the village. He felt sadness and rage for his dead brothers, but his greatest sorrow was for the unicorn that had slipped away. No meat would ever satiate that hunger. And he knew that he would spend the rest of his days pursing unicorn-flesh, and if he couldn’t catch this beast, then he would find another one. He heaved three human corpses on his shoulder and headed back to the troll village.
In another part of Darkwood, two animals gathered close to one another. The stag began to lick the unicorn’s wounds. Magically, they shifted back into their natural forms and two gnomes stood in place of the stag and unicorn. The stag had changed into a male with a nicely groomed beard, and the unicorn transformed into a female, with blond hair braided into fine ornate strands. Her leg was injured.
Calan immediately went to a belt pouch to withdraw a healing balm wrapped in a scrap of cloth.
“Does this hurt?” he asked as he cleaned and dressed Drela’s leg.
“It will soon heal”, she replied beaming with happiness and glee.
The two gnomes started to giggle because of the wonderful time they had just had. To Drela, the Blackhearted, the injury was worth it. Her cunning and spite was matched only by Calan, her consort, who had planned today’s activities. Drela grabbed a short stick to use as support, as she walked hand in hand with Calan through Darkwood. They were headed back to the couple’s hovel, which was built high up in the trees, away from the reaches of both trolls and men.
The animal was moving at a debilitated speed, due to the trap that Gak had set. Trollkind learned long ago that due to their large size, they needed to rely on incapacitating their prey. Mastodons were another matter. He had only expected a bear or perhaps smaller game, but a unicorn meant that truly the Trollfather had seen fit to bless him. Every catch that a troll brought back to his clan would elevate his status in the tribe. And a unicorn roasting on the skewer would make him eligible to challenge the chief to the right of combat.
He advanced slowly and saw some blood on the leaf. The trap was designed to injure or possibly sever the legs of the animal. Due the unicorn’s nimbleness, it kept its legs when it sprung the trap, but one of its legs was most likely broken. Gak’s fingers gathered the blood and he brought his hand to his mouth. A massive warty toungue fell forth to lick up the red substance. Gak felt a surge of power. Tonight, he would dine on this beast.
The trolls steadily rolled forward and spotted the animal limping in a small clearing. Taking cover behind massive oaks the trolls waited for their master to give the order to leap. He held them back savoring the rare moment. Though the witches had given them herbs to smear on their bodies, he knew that the unicorn could smell them. The witches were wise but unicorns were intelligent, and had instinct that enabled them to dwell in Darkwood unseen. This was the first and only unicorn that the trolls had seen, and they were about to kill it. Gak tightened his grip on his crude wooden spear. He visualized the tip piercing the heart of the animal. He thought of eating that heart raw, perhaps while the unicorn was still alive. Surely the consumption of a unicorn heart would give him great power. He made a quick, sincere psychic prayer to the Trollfather. He readied his ankles for the pounce and behind him, his brothers followed his lead.
Suddenly there was a noise of a great rushing and rustling to the west of their position. The trolls turned their heads and saw a great stag being pursued by men on horses. The stag bounded into the same clearing in which the unicorn was resting.
“Humans!” whispered Gak.
The trolls had eaten men before, but it was a common food. Still, the babies needed meat and human-flesh might constitute a nice side item with the main course. He raised his fist, extended a single finger and twisted it in the direction of the humans. This was the signal for an attack. The trolls rushed toward the men with growls, screams and snarls. The men quickly drew their swords and aimed their bows. Spears thrusted, swords swung and jabbed, and arrows flew. Blood littered the forest floor as the two animals slowly backed up away from the fray.
The battle lasted a full twenty minutes, and in the end only Gak remained. He looked around and saw the five dead trolls and twenty-three dead humans. The horses had bounded away, and there was no unicorn, nor a stag. He was only lightly injured, and so would be able to get back to the village. He felt sadness and rage for his dead brothers, but his greatest sorrow was for the unicorn that had slipped away. No meat would ever satiate that hunger. And he knew that he would spend the rest of his days pursing unicorn-flesh, and if he couldn’t catch this beast, then he would find another one. He heaved three human corpses on his shoulder and headed back to the troll village.
In another part of Darkwood, two animals gathered close to one another. The stag began to lick the unicorn’s wounds. Magically, they shifted back into their natural forms and two gnomes stood in place of the stag and unicorn. The stag had changed into a male with a nicely groomed beard, and the unicorn transformed into a female, with blond hair braided into fine ornate strands. Her leg was injured.
Calan immediately went to a belt pouch to withdraw a healing balm wrapped in a scrap of cloth.
“Does this hurt?” he asked as he cleaned and dressed Drela’s leg.
“It will soon heal”, she replied beaming with happiness and glee.
The two gnomes started to giggle because of the wonderful time they had just had. To Drela, the Blackhearted, the injury was worth it. Her cunning and spite was matched only by Calan, her consort, who had planned today’s activities. Drela grabbed a short stick to use as support, as she walked hand in hand with Calan through Darkwood. They were headed back to the couple’s hovel, which was built high up in the trees, away from the reaches of both trolls and men.
Unleashed
This next story is around 2500 words. It is not in the usual tone of the rest of the fiction on this site. It was written in response to a challenge by Michael A. Stackpole, who initiated the idea for a "Tick-Tock Hobbit Universe" stipulating that the story should include Hobbits, Magic, Automatons and an alien crash landing. Here you go. Enjoy.
Rathgo began to hum to himself as he worked on the mechlock. His uncle had built many of these machines in the past and it resulted in the entire family being expelled from the shire. If only they could get it right this time. The mechlock would be tall enough to pick apples and strong enough to mash them up for cider. Life would be grand. Uncle Vogmort sat at the table making adjustments to some delicate contraption. When finished the coils and springs would enable the mechlock to move its feet and walk much like the men folk.
Vogmort spoke to his nephew. “Rathgo, come ‘ere my boy.” He held a small ornate wooden box and placed it on the table, near where Rathgo took a seat. Opening the box, he revealed two silver geometric prisms. Rathgo’s eyes shot open and excitement overtook him.
“Elven magic!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, no,” replied Vogmort. “These are much older and they come from a land much farther away than Tallwood.” Vogmort then walked toward the automaton that Rathgo had been working on. He opened a compartment in the back and set one to of the angular blocks inside. As he did so, Rathgo took note of his uncle’s old age. Vogmort did not have many years left.
Vogmort inserted the multifaceted block into the mechlock and closed it. “Wind it up boy,” he said to Rathgo. Rathgo twisted the spindle in the back thirty or so times, and then stepped back. The machine started to move. Many clicks and titters could be heard; the sound of metal clacking against wood, mixed with springs and coils popping against sprockets. Eyelids made from walnut husks blinked.
“This way”, said Vogmort leading the thing to the doorway. He then directed it outside. It appeared to be following his commands and directions as though it understood. Rathgo stepped outside and saw that his uncle had gone over to stand by a woodpile. He held a book in one hand and a small quill in the other taking notes, as the mechlock began to use an axe to split wood.
Rathgo, amazed and wanting answers approached his uncle. “So what is that item you placed in its chest?” he asked.
“It is a long tale. We will discuss it over supper tonight.”
That night Rathgo and Vogmort sat down at the table. A neighbor’s son had brought them a fine goose that he had caught, offering it in payment for repairs to the family’s mill that Rathgo and his uncle had made. Vogmort had baked it in a stone oven along with a smattering of carrots, green roots, potatoes, apples and herbs. As Rathgo ate, he thought of what a fine cook Vogmort was, and if cooking was a science in itself, requiring the same study, experimentation and application as constructing automatons and machines had. Unexpectedly, without warning, Vogmort began a tale.
“It was ages past. Long ago. Before the shire, before Halflings and even elves. Men were here, but they lived as beasts, high in the hills. A large ship arrived upon the land, made of steel and gold.”
Rathgo interrupted. “A ship! Made of steel! Did magic keep it afloat?”
Vogmort laughed. “My boy! The thing not only floated, it flew! It was bizarre beyond words, lad. Shaped like a gigantic apple seed made of steel, silver and gold, and with a deafening thunder it drifted about. From beyond the stars it came, and it landed in a grove not far from the Shire. Inside were men who were not men. The star folk some called them, but Helaspar they called themselves. With grey skin, black eyes and pointy ears, they stood taller than men, by a barrel’s width, dear boy!”
“Where are these things? Where do they live and where is this vessel?” asked Rathgo excitedly.
“Long gone. It seems that they landed on this land against their will, because something went wrong inside that starship. That’s how these ‘lifestones’ came about. The Helaspar weren’t aware when these things fell from the ship like the leaves from an oak in October. And, lad, there’s more than the ones I’ve got. The elves have most of ‘em, and I’ll tell you why.”
Vogmort continued to recite the tale as his nephew listened. He knew the boy was skeptical, but he took pride in this, for that was how he had trained him. Vogmort wanted Rathgo to question everything, and to only trust his own senses, never taking one’s word or trusting superstition. If the magic of the world were to be understood, it had to be carefully investigated. The truth would not rise on its own accord, but had to be extracted from the murky depths.
After a few minutes, Rathgo disrupted his uncle, though respectfully. “Vogmort. Enough, you’ve done it. You’ve fooled me with your tale. Though I would attribute it more to your artful telling than my youthful naiveté”, Rathgo stated chuckling with rosy checks shaking.
Vogmort smiled warmly, yet continued with his recollection of the legend. “It is said that aboard this craft, the creatures carried glass vials and strange packaged substances. Mixtures of the strangest serum. Collectively, the lot of it was called ‘starseed’. From this, they somehow altered growing things to make the first of elfkind. One of these creations did not take hold as intended and became Krak, father of Trolls. Still another, punished by his litter brothers, became malformed and was the first orc, though he is unnamed.”
“What would the elves say about this story?” asked Rathgo.
“I would advise you not to mention it to one of their number,” came his uncle’s reply. In saying this, he also gave the youngster a stern look. Elves are a truly noble race, but it was always ill-advised to ever do something that one of them might consider insulting.
Vogmort finished his tale. “The fact is, this ship came here by accident. After unloading the starseed, they all got to work repairing their craft and making it functional again. It took them many weeks, and during their time here, they walked the land, forming creatures and shaping hills and mountains with strange glowing tools. The things they used glowed like the torch-tailed-swamp-crickets. Yet the colors were varied. They made the sea sink and the mountains rise! And then, they left and never returned…”
Rathgo listened intently, while his elder finished the tale. Rathgo was enamored, but still in disbelief. The tale that Vogmort recanted sounded possible, thought everything that he had seen seemed implausible. He needed evidence. And Vogmort himself wouldn’t believe anything unless he saw proof and tangible proof at that. Still, those multifaceted chunks of silver intrigued him. Rathgo went to sleep with his head full of imagination. He wondered how long his uncle had had those stones, and where exactly he discovered the tale of them. These questions he would ask in the morn. Vogmort needed his rest and Rathgo let him have it. Young folk have too much energy and the old not enough.
In the morning, Rathgo awoke and came out of his room. There stood three mechlocks. The one that Vogmort had placed the stone in was a “harvest” mechlock. It was outfitted with a scythe and a claw for hands. With these, the mechlock could harvest grain and pick apples. The scythe arm could also rotate to a hammer, so that the mechlock could make basic home repairs as needed.
Of the other two mechlocks in the room, one was outfitted as a basic repair unit. It could use its hammer and saw arms to build or repair any structures on the farm. The other mechlock, was only in the developmental stages. Vogmort had previously mentioned something about the thing brewing tea. It would have to be given arms first. As of yet, this third mechlock resembled nothing but a whiskey barrel laden with iron bands and wooden pegs.
Vogmort soon emerged from his room and strode out to the stove yawning. He approached the augmented mechlock, the one with the alien heart. “Good morning, Thelius,” he said.
“You gave it a name, Uncle?” asked Rathgo.
“I’ve given them all names now, son. Soon, they will be able to respond through speech.”
Rathgo was amazed. Vogmort when on to comment on how he was learning how to work the foreign magic, making adjustments and learning as he went along. Rathgo wasn’t quite sure how he felt about all this. Someway, he still felt as though they were playing with fire. A strange fire.
After some time, Vogmort had finished fine tuning the machine. It sprang to life with a cacophony of clanks and springs. “I am Thelius. I serve,” the thing said in a cold dead voice. Vogmort commanded it to go out to the fields and thresh the wheat. It did so. Rathgo was aghast. Before, they had to wind these things up with a crank, and then actually move them out to the fields and stand close by as they worked.
The mechlock harvested the entire field, and brought them five bushels of apples. When it had finished its work it approached the two halflings. “I will repair all that is not good,” it said again, in that distant unliving voice. With that, it withdrew its hammer and set to work on repair loose boards on the barn and stable. It used its claw hand to hold pegs and nails as it hammered them in. The mechlock had been given a secretive storage compartment by Vogmort, and it kept various small items there, that it might need for its tasks. Here it kept its nuts, screws, bolts and such.
After the machine had finished this work, it happened that Farmer Brannock was approaching down a bordering road, near Vogmort’s estate. Brannock despised Vogmort and his nephew, and was one of the first to demand that they leave the shire. The mechlock took notice of the fat farmer, and its two marbles that it had as eyes glowed with a bright green light. “Repair, repair,” it proclaimed as it twirled forward with spinning arms. Brannock’s wagon needed some structural attention, and Thelius gave it this as the wagon was still rolling.
Brannock was shocked and frightened at the same time. He began to kick at the mechlock, and smack at it with his horsewhip. The mechlock responded violently, and tried to give Brannock some adjustments, proclaiming, “Repair, repair. Repair all that is not good.” The machine gave Brannock a few good whollops and then proceeded straight to the heart of the shire.
Once there, it commenced with its reparations, first with barns, sheds and fences, and then with the people. The thing had gone awry, and was terrifying the halflings of the shire. Rathgo chased after it, and Vogmort averted his eyes in shock and horror. Vogmort then turned to go back to his dwelling and workshop. Rathgo noticed his uncle leave and mounted a small pony in pursuit. On the way back, he continued to twist his neck, glancing over his shoulder at the ensuing destruction in the shire, at the hands of Vogmort’s creation.
When he arrived, Vogmort was working on the other mechlock, inserting the remaining lifestone in its heart with haste. The silver metal prism glistened in the light of the October sun, which drifted through the hanging leaves and on through the window. “What are you doing?” Rathgo asked.
“What do you think, lad? The only way to stop it is with another.”
“All we will get is double trouble, Uncle,” Rathgo stated, exhaustedly. Rathgo noticed that this mechlock was quite different, and was outfitted with much different tools. With a hammer and a saw as its base equipment, it also had a swivel arm with a simple drill. Vogmort finished inserting the lifestone promptly and the thing exploded with life and motion.
“Awaken and hear me!” Vogmort commanded. “Your brother, Thelius, has gone amuck, and is spreading destruction. Bring him down!”
“You were foolish to play with powers you do not comprehend. I will collect the mechlock, and put an end to the danger.” The machine seemed more intelligent than the other, and more aware. Seemingly, it knew things that it shouldn’t. It fled from the abode with glowing blue eyes of burning ice, heading directly towards the other mechlock.
At this point, Thelius had ransacked the town hall of the shire, and held several halfling folk hostage in the ruins. The other mechlock arrived promptly and eyed the other intently. A great melee ensued, with flying splinters crashing about and the air filled with springs, sprocket, bolts and all manner of mechanical inner workings.
Vogmort and Rathgo arrived on the scene on astride small ponies. They dismounted as the battle ended. The hunks of wood were barely moving, and Vogmort spied the two lifestones rolling about somehow attracted to one another like magnets. He walked over, picked them up and strided over to Rathgo. He handed him the stones. “Here, boy,” he said. “Take these and go quickly.”
“Go where?” asked Rathgo.
“To the elves, you fool!” came Vogmort’s reply.
Three hours later, Rathgo emerged at the outskirts of the elven wood. Knowing it to well patrolled, he easily located an elven ranger. He recanted all that he knew of the stones to the elf, who later escorted him to the city of Greenwood. While there, he saw beautiful things that shall not be mentioned here. However, he also met with members of the council who took the stones and bid him farewell. Rathgo returned to Vogmort where they focused their attention on tea making machines, both swearing off the strange magic of alien stars and elves alike.
At that same time, the elven council held and emergency meeting. Only the elders were aloud to attend and the younger members of the council were forcibly excluded. The three elders sat close together inspecting the stones and passing them around. After a quick and whispering discussion, the eldest among them held aloft the stones, one in each hand and said, “Finally! After all this time, we can return home.”
Upon saying this, the elders’ skin took on a greyer hue, and they appeared a little taller than before. Though it was difficult to see, the walls of this council hall had the seeming appearance of being supported by a strange, thin, and foreign metal.
Rathgo began to hum to himself as he worked on the mechlock. His uncle had built many of these machines in the past and it resulted in the entire family being expelled from the shire. If only they could get it right this time. The mechlock would be tall enough to pick apples and strong enough to mash them up for cider. Life would be grand. Uncle Vogmort sat at the table making adjustments to some delicate contraption. When finished the coils and springs would enable the mechlock to move its feet and walk much like the men folk.
Vogmort spoke to his nephew. “Rathgo, come ‘ere my boy.” He held a small ornate wooden box and placed it on the table, near where Rathgo took a seat. Opening the box, he revealed two silver geometric prisms. Rathgo’s eyes shot open and excitement overtook him.
“Elven magic!” he exclaimed.
“Oh, no,” replied Vogmort. “These are much older and they come from a land much farther away than Tallwood.” Vogmort then walked toward the automaton that Rathgo had been working on. He opened a compartment in the back and set one to of the angular blocks inside. As he did so, Rathgo took note of his uncle’s old age. Vogmort did not have many years left.
Vogmort inserted the multifaceted block into the mechlock and closed it. “Wind it up boy,” he said to Rathgo. Rathgo twisted the spindle in the back thirty or so times, and then stepped back. The machine started to move. Many clicks and titters could be heard; the sound of metal clacking against wood, mixed with springs and coils popping against sprockets. Eyelids made from walnut husks blinked.
“This way”, said Vogmort leading the thing to the doorway. He then directed it outside. It appeared to be following his commands and directions as though it understood. Rathgo stepped outside and saw that his uncle had gone over to stand by a woodpile. He held a book in one hand and a small quill in the other taking notes, as the mechlock began to use an axe to split wood.
Rathgo, amazed and wanting answers approached his uncle. “So what is that item you placed in its chest?” he asked.
“It is a long tale. We will discuss it over supper tonight.”
That night Rathgo and Vogmort sat down at the table. A neighbor’s son had brought them a fine goose that he had caught, offering it in payment for repairs to the family’s mill that Rathgo and his uncle had made. Vogmort had baked it in a stone oven along with a smattering of carrots, green roots, potatoes, apples and herbs. As Rathgo ate, he thought of what a fine cook Vogmort was, and if cooking was a science in itself, requiring the same study, experimentation and application as constructing automatons and machines had. Unexpectedly, without warning, Vogmort began a tale.
“It was ages past. Long ago. Before the shire, before Halflings and even elves. Men were here, but they lived as beasts, high in the hills. A large ship arrived upon the land, made of steel and gold.”
Rathgo interrupted. “A ship! Made of steel! Did magic keep it afloat?”
Vogmort laughed. “My boy! The thing not only floated, it flew! It was bizarre beyond words, lad. Shaped like a gigantic apple seed made of steel, silver and gold, and with a deafening thunder it drifted about. From beyond the stars it came, and it landed in a grove not far from the Shire. Inside were men who were not men. The star folk some called them, but Helaspar they called themselves. With grey skin, black eyes and pointy ears, they stood taller than men, by a barrel’s width, dear boy!”
“Where are these things? Where do they live and where is this vessel?” asked Rathgo excitedly.
“Long gone. It seems that they landed on this land against their will, because something went wrong inside that starship. That’s how these ‘lifestones’ came about. The Helaspar weren’t aware when these things fell from the ship like the leaves from an oak in October. And, lad, there’s more than the ones I’ve got. The elves have most of ‘em, and I’ll tell you why.”
Vogmort continued to recite the tale as his nephew listened. He knew the boy was skeptical, but he took pride in this, for that was how he had trained him. Vogmort wanted Rathgo to question everything, and to only trust his own senses, never taking one’s word or trusting superstition. If the magic of the world were to be understood, it had to be carefully investigated. The truth would not rise on its own accord, but had to be extracted from the murky depths.
After a few minutes, Rathgo disrupted his uncle, though respectfully. “Vogmort. Enough, you’ve done it. You’ve fooled me with your tale. Though I would attribute it more to your artful telling than my youthful naiveté”, Rathgo stated chuckling with rosy checks shaking.
Vogmort smiled warmly, yet continued with his recollection of the legend. “It is said that aboard this craft, the creatures carried glass vials and strange packaged substances. Mixtures of the strangest serum. Collectively, the lot of it was called ‘starseed’. From this, they somehow altered growing things to make the first of elfkind. One of these creations did not take hold as intended and became Krak, father of Trolls. Still another, punished by his litter brothers, became malformed and was the first orc, though he is unnamed.”
“What would the elves say about this story?” asked Rathgo.
“I would advise you not to mention it to one of their number,” came his uncle’s reply. In saying this, he also gave the youngster a stern look. Elves are a truly noble race, but it was always ill-advised to ever do something that one of them might consider insulting.
Vogmort finished his tale. “The fact is, this ship came here by accident. After unloading the starseed, they all got to work repairing their craft and making it functional again. It took them many weeks, and during their time here, they walked the land, forming creatures and shaping hills and mountains with strange glowing tools. The things they used glowed like the torch-tailed-swamp-crickets. Yet the colors were varied. They made the sea sink and the mountains rise! And then, they left and never returned…”
Rathgo listened intently, while his elder finished the tale. Rathgo was enamored, but still in disbelief. The tale that Vogmort recanted sounded possible, thought everything that he had seen seemed implausible. He needed evidence. And Vogmort himself wouldn’t believe anything unless he saw proof and tangible proof at that. Still, those multifaceted chunks of silver intrigued him. Rathgo went to sleep with his head full of imagination. He wondered how long his uncle had had those stones, and where exactly he discovered the tale of them. These questions he would ask in the morn. Vogmort needed his rest and Rathgo let him have it. Young folk have too much energy and the old not enough.
In the morning, Rathgo awoke and came out of his room. There stood three mechlocks. The one that Vogmort had placed the stone in was a “harvest” mechlock. It was outfitted with a scythe and a claw for hands. With these, the mechlock could harvest grain and pick apples. The scythe arm could also rotate to a hammer, so that the mechlock could make basic home repairs as needed.
Of the other two mechlocks in the room, one was outfitted as a basic repair unit. It could use its hammer and saw arms to build or repair any structures on the farm. The other mechlock, was only in the developmental stages. Vogmort had previously mentioned something about the thing brewing tea. It would have to be given arms first. As of yet, this third mechlock resembled nothing but a whiskey barrel laden with iron bands and wooden pegs.
Vogmort soon emerged from his room and strode out to the stove yawning. He approached the augmented mechlock, the one with the alien heart. “Good morning, Thelius,” he said.
“You gave it a name, Uncle?” asked Rathgo.
“I’ve given them all names now, son. Soon, they will be able to respond through speech.”
Rathgo was amazed. Vogmort when on to comment on how he was learning how to work the foreign magic, making adjustments and learning as he went along. Rathgo wasn’t quite sure how he felt about all this. Someway, he still felt as though they were playing with fire. A strange fire.
After some time, Vogmort had finished fine tuning the machine. It sprang to life with a cacophony of clanks and springs. “I am Thelius. I serve,” the thing said in a cold dead voice. Vogmort commanded it to go out to the fields and thresh the wheat. It did so. Rathgo was aghast. Before, they had to wind these things up with a crank, and then actually move them out to the fields and stand close by as they worked.
The mechlock harvested the entire field, and brought them five bushels of apples. When it had finished its work it approached the two halflings. “I will repair all that is not good,” it said again, in that distant unliving voice. With that, it withdrew its hammer and set to work on repair loose boards on the barn and stable. It used its claw hand to hold pegs and nails as it hammered them in. The mechlock had been given a secretive storage compartment by Vogmort, and it kept various small items there, that it might need for its tasks. Here it kept its nuts, screws, bolts and such.
After the machine had finished this work, it happened that Farmer Brannock was approaching down a bordering road, near Vogmort’s estate. Brannock despised Vogmort and his nephew, and was one of the first to demand that they leave the shire. The mechlock took notice of the fat farmer, and its two marbles that it had as eyes glowed with a bright green light. “Repair, repair,” it proclaimed as it twirled forward with spinning arms. Brannock’s wagon needed some structural attention, and Thelius gave it this as the wagon was still rolling.
Brannock was shocked and frightened at the same time. He began to kick at the mechlock, and smack at it with his horsewhip. The mechlock responded violently, and tried to give Brannock some adjustments, proclaiming, “Repair, repair. Repair all that is not good.” The machine gave Brannock a few good whollops and then proceeded straight to the heart of the shire.
Once there, it commenced with its reparations, first with barns, sheds and fences, and then with the people. The thing had gone awry, and was terrifying the halflings of the shire. Rathgo chased after it, and Vogmort averted his eyes in shock and horror. Vogmort then turned to go back to his dwelling and workshop. Rathgo noticed his uncle leave and mounted a small pony in pursuit. On the way back, he continued to twist his neck, glancing over his shoulder at the ensuing destruction in the shire, at the hands of Vogmort’s creation.
When he arrived, Vogmort was working on the other mechlock, inserting the remaining lifestone in its heart with haste. The silver metal prism glistened in the light of the October sun, which drifted through the hanging leaves and on through the window. “What are you doing?” Rathgo asked.
“What do you think, lad? The only way to stop it is with another.”
“All we will get is double trouble, Uncle,” Rathgo stated, exhaustedly. Rathgo noticed that this mechlock was quite different, and was outfitted with much different tools. With a hammer and a saw as its base equipment, it also had a swivel arm with a simple drill. Vogmort finished inserting the lifestone promptly and the thing exploded with life and motion.
“Awaken and hear me!” Vogmort commanded. “Your brother, Thelius, has gone amuck, and is spreading destruction. Bring him down!”
“You were foolish to play with powers you do not comprehend. I will collect the mechlock, and put an end to the danger.” The machine seemed more intelligent than the other, and more aware. Seemingly, it knew things that it shouldn’t. It fled from the abode with glowing blue eyes of burning ice, heading directly towards the other mechlock.
At this point, Thelius had ransacked the town hall of the shire, and held several halfling folk hostage in the ruins. The other mechlock arrived promptly and eyed the other intently. A great melee ensued, with flying splinters crashing about and the air filled with springs, sprocket, bolts and all manner of mechanical inner workings.
Vogmort and Rathgo arrived on the scene on astride small ponies. They dismounted as the battle ended. The hunks of wood were barely moving, and Vogmort spied the two lifestones rolling about somehow attracted to one another like magnets. He walked over, picked them up and strided over to Rathgo. He handed him the stones. “Here, boy,” he said. “Take these and go quickly.”
“Go where?” asked Rathgo.
“To the elves, you fool!” came Vogmort’s reply.
Three hours later, Rathgo emerged at the outskirts of the elven wood. Knowing it to well patrolled, he easily located an elven ranger. He recanted all that he knew of the stones to the elf, who later escorted him to the city of Greenwood. While there, he saw beautiful things that shall not be mentioned here. However, he also met with members of the council who took the stones and bid him farewell. Rathgo returned to Vogmort where they focused their attention on tea making machines, both swearing off the strange magic of alien stars and elves alike.
At that same time, the elven council held and emergency meeting. Only the elders were aloud to attend and the younger members of the council were forcibly excluded. The three elders sat close together inspecting the stones and passing them around. After a quick and whispering discussion, the eldest among them held aloft the stones, one in each hand and said, “Finally! After all this time, we can return home.”
Upon saying this, the elders’ skin took on a greyer hue, and they appeared a little taller than before. Though it was difficult to see, the walls of this council hall had the seeming appearance of being supported by a strange, thin, and foreign metal.
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