The Dragons Within - Chapter 7

Chapter 7- The Vision1

He marveled for a second at the grass as it flew by, tree’s raced by, and the ground seemed to speed away behind him. He darted in and out between trees, weaving in amongst them faster than he could see, so that they all seemed to blend together in a stretched-out, multicolored fog. He flowed along in this wood, moving with the wind, until he came upon an age-old oak tree. He circled its base several times, taking in the trees scents, learning what it could tell him of what it was that he sought.2

He found a scent that hinted him in the right direction and rushed off in a gust of wind towards the north. Trees and boulders flew by as he raced with the pace of a gazelle and the silence of night. Nowhere could an animal be seen, he noted, not even a bird or a squirrel. He was almost sure that if he had looked close enough, not even an ant was left in this place. They’d all left. Or had been killed.3

He paused long enough to sniff at another giant trunk of an aged oak, and darted off more east than north. The forest rushed by until it finally gave way to open fields, which then parted to allow the passage of a broad, slow moving river. Over the river and past the short-grass plain, mountains reared up in the eastern sky. He paused another moment to inquire of the mountain, and then was off, heading due north.4

North followed the path hemmed in between a giant river on the east and many giant mountains to the west. After moving by countless mountains and a myriad of trees without seeing anything else, he caught sight of an even taller, more foreboding range of mountains to the north.5

The base of the range was a dense forest, the tops of trees spreading out in giant umbrellas, shielding the ground from the sun even from outside the wood. Entering the wood between the colossal trunks, he had a brief feeling of insignificance. He shrugged off his personal thoughts, and continued searching. Abruptly, the mountains broke through the tops of the trees, their pointed tips lost in the haze of the sky. The forest didn’t surrender its’ ground until nearly half way up the sides of the jagged, sky-scraping mountains, but did get less and less dense.6

Then, not long after beginning to scale the mount, he saw it. “There.” Off to his right, to the east, was a passage between the mountains. It looked as if a enormous giant had come and slashed the mountain range with a sword as long as the river, destroying parts of two mountains to make a separation between them. The crevice was wide enough for ten men to walk abreast through, and the entrance more than twenty men across.7

“I knew it’d be here.” There, inside the crevice, was that which he had been seeking. It slithered down the crevice to the end of the eye, as broad as the gap itself, filling the fissure with a streaming mass of dark colors. He peered into the swarming mass for a long moment, trying to discern what it was exactly that he was looking at, but soon decided that it wasn’t possible from this distance.8

A smooth breeze moved along the edge of the tree line as he moved in to get a better look at this suspected invader. Drawing closer, he realized that it wasn’t a single, slithering, snake-like entity, but a mass of moving beasts garbed and formed uniformly. Crowded into the fissure were thousands upon thousands of large, disproportionate, green-skinned, man-shaped monsters. 9

Their thick looking green skin was mostly covered by the leather and iron armor they all wore, seemingly cloned one from the other. The leather breastplate was shaped, and made them appear incredibly muscular and thick of chest, whilst their armplates extended only to the shoulder, revealing thickly muscled, hairy, green arms. Each of the beasts carried a wickedly curved sword in the right hand, its inside edge serrated and rusty looking while the outside edge was smooth, growing slightly larger towards the tip. In the left hand, each bore a large round shield, looking of hardened wood and iron studs, crossed from both sides by iron bands that formed an ‘X’ in the center.10

Xadarian stared at their slithering masses, bewildered over their appearance, and the sheer weight of their numbers. They flowed from the north, through the pass, apparently coming from the Forgotten Lands which lay north of the Teeth of the World. He had heard of the evils that lived in the Forgotten Lands, been scared by stories of Demons and monsters by his grandparents when he was very young, but had never truly believed. These oversized, horribly disfigured, in-human creatures surely must be demons, though. Their green faces were covered mostly in hair, but split nearly in half by a gapping maw, bearing fang-like teeth; most of which were chipped and stained with blood. Short horns, like tusks, protruded from their faces on either side of their over-sized noses, and curved down and around to form a half-circle around their mouths. 11

As he drew closer, the ghastly details of the faces, bodies, and weaponry of the enemy evolved from a blurry image to an all too descript visage. He continued to travel on the breeze closer to the enemy until he found a place where a large boulder shot up from the ground, shielding one side from the view of the other. He peeked from around the side, staying low and remaining silent, eavesdropping on the movements of this new evil. He watched as they flowed militantly from the north lands, through this man-made passage, down through the edges of the Forest of Never, where they disappeared into the thick foliage.12

He decided that he’d best make his way back home, before the entire area was full of these beasts and he was cut off from retreat. Just as the thought entered his mind, the uncanny sense that someone was behind him jolted him into motion. He sprang to his left, trying to keep behind the boulders relative protection. Spinning around as he heard the sounds of metal striking rock, he got shards of stone shot into his face from the fierce impact of one of those giant, curved swords.13

The blade of the beast was still stuck deep inside the shattered surface of the boulder, pinning the weapon inside the crevice. It struggled briefly with the immobile weapon before discarding it and turning on the shock-stricken Xadarian. The beast wheeled around, carrying its right arm like a club, and bashed Xadarian across the face, sending him sprawling up the side of the mountain. After the force carrying him from the impact abated, Xadarian tumbled bodily back down the few feet and struck his feet against the boulder as he flipped a third time. The beast was instantly upon him, striking him with a huge balled fist on the facing shoulder.14

Xadarian was again blown away by the force of the impact, propelled along the boulder to roll downhill. Coming to a stop on the outskirts of the last few trees of the forest, Xadarian lifted his bruised face to gain sight of the enemy. His head spun, and colors burst in his vision, making the world swim and fade, as everything seemed to be in perpetual motion.15

Blinking away the tears trying to come to his eyes, Xadarian looked towards to slithering army of green to see if the ruckus had caught their attention. Much to his dismay, it had. All of the forward area had stopped their steady march, and were now crouched in a hunting stance, creeping ever towards. Xadarian turned side to side looking for avenues of escape. Turning around in a complete circle he found the green-skinned evil preying down on him from all sides. Row after row of those giant forms loomed out from every side without as much as a handbreadth between one’s shoulders and the next. There was no avenue of escape.16

Xadarian steeled himself against the coming, bracing himself with honor and the courage of ten thousand dwarves, and drew his own sword. It’s gleaming blade seemed suddenly dull in the moonlight. The first of them leapt towards him from three paces away, covering all the distance in the air. Xadarian struck him down before he landed. Another sprang out, and was cut down. Another and another leapt into the air, and Xadarian cut them down. His sword dripped with thick green blood, and the ground became dangerously slick from the oozing fluids of his enemies. One after another, they threw themselves at his sword arm, fearlessly charging at him, but never striking. 17

Forever he fought, for days it seemed they’d leapt for him through the air and died before they reached the ground. His sword soon became too heavy, and desperation began to creep up in his heart. How long could he keep this up? He struck down another. Why didn’t they cut him down? He struck down two more. Why were they aggressing but not attacking? He struck down three more.18

Desperation surged up in the pit of his stomach; there was no end of the beasts, their numbers simply too great. They came and they came. He grew tired, too tired to move. But still he stood there, in the midst of the great carnage. The slain and often-beheaded forms of the former enemies were the only thing slowing down the approach of the oncoming. The bodies formed a low wall in a circle around him, a breastwork of carnage too gory to be real.19

The tip of his sword dug into the ground as his shoulders slumped and his elbows gave. He held the weapon in both hands, his face still a mask of determination, as he realized that the next enemy would probably be his last. He hoped it wouldn’t come. It did. 20

Four more beasts scaled the body wall and snarled with the maw of jagged fangs, staring down at him. These didn’t leap immediately, but continued their slow and cautious approach, never taking their eyes off of his sword. They seemed to fear him, but were ever determined nonetheless. As they approached, he closed his eyes a moment, trying to feel some reservoir of strength somewhere deep within himself which he could sense but couldn’t seem to draw up.21

He flung his sword up limply and deflected a first slash from the leader, his sword careening off of its blade and finding the skull of the ‘demon’ to its right. He parried another blow, and his sword was flung back, the force of the enemy attack repelling his weak defense. His blade shot back in his hands, it was all he could do to hold onto the pommel. A sudden stop in the motion of the blade told him that it’d found the chest armor of an enemy behind him. He didn’t care. He wrestled his weapon free and stared at the attacking leader.22

His face was a mask of no emotion, but inside he was on the verge of panic. The leader studied him for a minute and, after apparently sensing his exhaustion, crept closer, step-by- step. Xadarian could feel the circle closing in as the others making it up followed their Leader, creeping closer a step at a time. Xadarian struck out left and right, spending the last of his energy, killing several of those on the inner circle, but they were simply replaced by those behind them.23

He knew it was an impossible odd, but he refused to just lay down and die. He strained against the weight of his arms as he swung his sword at the enemy leader, his heart dropping slightly when the leader effortlessly raised his blade in defense. Xadarian’s sword struck the parry and fell limply to the ground. He strained again against the weight and exhaustion, but it was too late. The leader swung his sword down. Xadarian watched it in slow motion that was a parody of life as the wickedly curved blade dug into his sword arm. The pain that erupted through his arm was too intense for him to truly feel, and Xadarian was, for the first time, thankful for the exhaustion dulling his mind.24

Xadarian looked down at his severed arm, still clutching his constant companion. The leader of the enemy simply stood there, staring with a snarled grin, apparently overly pleased with himself. Xadarian slowly knelt down, grasped his disconnected arm, and pried the sword out of the fingers of his own strong hand. Hefting the blade in his left hand felt a little uncomfortable and he wished he’d listened better when his father had tried to train him in dual wielding. 25

His left arm had only slightly more energy than his right had, but it was enough to swing the sword violently towards his foe. The attack was again parried and fell harmlessly from the defense of the ‘demon.’ The leader again slashed, and Xadarian saw his own blood pouring down from an open gash the width of his chest. Again the leader struck, and Xadarian felt no pain as he grasped the twisted blade and yanked it out of his stomach, lurching at the same time with his sword, catching the leader defenseless. 26

As the hair-mopped green head plummeted to the ground, the decapitated body of the ‘Demon’ leader slumped and fell. All the surrounding enemies shivered visibly from the loss of their champion, and a united howl went up from the gathered masses. They screamed like wounded wolves, yelling to the sky and howling at the moon over their foul fates. The look of hatred and anger on their faces as they returned their gazes to their single enemy created a palpable fog of disdain around Xadarian, like a black wind of death.27

As the swords of a hundred beasts plunged into his body, Xadarian thought back over the course which he’d taken to get here, all the things he’d done, and remembered the trail in his mind. Past the forest, north at the oak, east at the Twisted Vine, across the River Wilde, north along the Grin of Xeria to where the Grin meets the Teeth, beyond the forest Never.28

As a smooth blackness swallowed Xadarian’s vision, he noticed a blue haze, creeping along the heads of the green monsters. The blue haze turned into a blue fire, and descended upon the enemy and they screamed out in pain. The heat of ten thousands torches consumed their bodies and the ashes fell to the ground all around Xadarian. The ash began to collect together, and forms again rose out of the ashes of the fallen. For a fateful moment, Xadarian thought that the green-skin monsters had been raised up, but noticed that the new shapes were not green. 29

They were black.30

The Black Robes of countless clones of the magi stared down at him from behind the impenetrable blackness of their hoods, and sudden laughter filled Xadarian’s throat. He laughed out loud though his life force was fading quickly. The Black magi uniformly held their arms out, like one man in a room of mirrors, and the Blue Fire consumed everything. This time the fire was not familiar, it wasn’t comfortable. It pricked at his skin, like fire and cold mixed together. His deadened, limp body felt as if someone were tickling him, but he knew his skin was burning.31

The stench of his own burning flesh filled Xadarian’s nose, and he thought how unfair it was; he almost got to die in battle. Now he would be robbed of that honor, here in his final moment.32

The pain of the realization was more than any physical torture could ever be, and the agony of it rose up into Xadarian’s throat, and he opened his mouth wide…33

“…and he screamed! Over and over he screamed! I thought he was being murdered, and when I got here, he was laying there drenched in sweat, trashing about his bed like a madman!”34