Raulin's Oath

In the darkness of his campsite, Jerry shot up, panting. He had so many nightmares on this side of the universe. He still had these nightmares on Earth, but when he would wake up in his bed, he always faced a less confrontational death with no escape. He wasn’t certain which was more horrific, only sure of the pounding war drum that was his heart. It skipped a beat when he saw her, but quickly he’d realized it was not the real Arietta. She was cruel, somehow even more beautiful than before.

“Gerald,” she hissed in his ear, nails like claws dragging down his face. The hot sensation of his blood trickled down his skin, and he’d been horrified that he’d merely drawn closer to her. The pain was dull, fleeting even, and the ache inside his chest was far worse than any physical pain she could inflict on him. “You disgust me.” Jerry inhaled sharply at this, and she’d laughed lightly, a lover’s laugh. “You always did, you know. I never saw you as my hero, never saw you as an equal. I saw you as you were back on Earth. You are dying.” She swallowed, taking a breath. “I will never love you. You aren’t capable of receiving love. You are selfish. You’ve never deserved it.” He whimpered, a pathetic sound. Jerry shivered.

He watched her burn, consumed by the flames of gentle savagery, her eyes wild with terror. Her beautiful hair at his feet in piles of ash. The hair was what smelled the worse, the smell stuck to the inside of his nose, causing his stomach to twist. He stood, watching helplessly, unable to move, speak, or act. Skin melting, screams ripping from her, yet something new arose from the ashes, something terrifying. In her place stood the king of the dragon race, and the king embraced him carefully. “I think you are very capable of being loved. She will never love you. Don’t you realize this? I will take care of you if you let me.”

Jerry shoved the king roughly away from him, and the king cocked his head, a feline smirk on his face. He smelled like gladioli, a bright and fresh smell that reminded him of life. “I look at you, and do you know what I see?”

Jerry shook his head dumbly.

“Potential.” He smiled, “I see so much potential within you. You could help me turn the tides, save this world, and preserve a dying species. We can’t survive in the mountains alone, and it was unfair to condemn us there. You could be our savior, my savior.”

Jerry’s eyes turned milky, lost in the effervescent ivy of the Dragon King’s. “Do visit me soon, won’t you?”

Though Jerry knew it was a dream, the lasting fear had stuck with him. Sadness dominated his other feelings, a deep well of sorrow in his heart, yet he didn’t know why. Dreams weren’t real. He laughed, trying to brush off the feeling of deep upset and unease, before dressing himself. He needed to be more careful about his powers now that he was in this strange land. He could tell the energy depressor he’d shielded the room with the night before had weakened, and that soon his mental guard and effort to stay hidden would both determine if he left these lands alive.

***

At the border of Faendell, Arietta held her breath. They’d sent a letter ahead, because even peacemakers entering without permission could warrant war, and they now were waiting to see if they would be granted passage. The mountain range was far more beautiful than that of Lenovia and was far more vast. Clouds prevented Arietta from spotting the usual baby blue of the sky, and snow hugged around her knees. She wore a heavy, fur-lined cloak, yet the wind managed to bite through it to her skin. Snowflakes tickled her eyelashes, and she was curious as to how these people could stand such an overwhelming, bitter cold. She released the breath and it came out in wispy tendrils that curled in the air.

The guards chattered in a language foreign to her, yet with the spell that Gustoff cast upon her, she could understand their conversation. They seemed nervous and cold. They glanced to each other, then looked upon the travelers . Nova suppressed a shiver, melting into her wolf form, a seamless transition that would shield her from the cold.

“We will let you in, but beware, the land is old and has its secrets. Stick to the paths, respect the wind, and by the Gods, you must respect the queen.” They are polytheistic. Arietta made a note of that, making sure she wouldn’t offend them at any later time. Gustoff nodded, needing no spell upon his ears, surprisingly to her, and she was curious about the history behind that.

“Thank you. May the mountain judge you fairly,” Gustoff replied. Fluent in not only interpreting, but speaking; that was another surprise. As called by tradition, the guards crashed their staffs together, then lifted their hands to the mountain.

The castle was in the heart of the country, in the highest peaks of the mountain, and was far too cold for any pegasus to fly to without risking hypothermia. With the assistance of a team of four snow oxen that were offered at a relatively low price of just four gold coins, they were up and at the palace doors within two days.

Gustoff turned to Arietta and smiled. “Are you ready, honey?”

Arietta smiled back and said, “Hey, I am one of the Chosen. I was born ready.” He chuckled, glad she was okay and that the trip hadn’t lain too heavily on her heart. Gustoff slipped a hand up the sleeve of his robe, withdrawing a purple elixir. This would help the aches that never seemed to leave after his descent from the Draconian range. His body always felt heavy, and while the elixir was bitter and foul tasting, he drank all of it in a smooth gulp.

“What is that, Grandpa?” Her eyes were bright and unconcerned.

She had put him on a pedestal as her hero, and he didn’t want to tarnish her view of him. Even heroes felt pain, and they had nightmares too. Just two days passed on her end, but it stretched to a lifetime for him.

“It…” He didn’t like lying, so he forced his mouth into a crescent moon smile and grabbed her hand. “It’s nothing, honey. Just keeps me on my toes and ready to go.” A half lie, just a sin of omission off of his tongue.

“What does it taste like?” She didn’t prompt him further on the use, and thank everything for that.

“Genuinely terrible, so bad it curls your toes.” He laughed. Her sunshine smile was blinding, and she squeezed his hand, turning her eyes to the crystalline palace that forged through the sky. The light bounced off the clear walls, and the building shimmered with anticipation for its new guests. Something about the palace told them that visitors didn’t drop by often, and that they should be traveling with trepidation. One of the oxen raised his voice, directing his words more to Nova than the others.

“Wolf, the queen was once kind, but through cruelty and loss is now bitter. She is much like the coiled snake: one wrong move and she is ready to strike. I tell you, as she has a penchant for furs, and would love nothing more than to have a reason to take your coat should you say the wrong thing.” Nova shook herself out, smoothly transitioning to her human form. The sting of the transition was a welcome thing, and while the words of the ox made her nervous, she figured it was better to meet the queen in her human form anyway.

“Furs? That is terrible.” She wrinkled her nose, and the ox blanched at her new form.

“You’re a Chosen One.” He immediately averted his eyes.

“Sort of, that’s what they’ve been telling me,” she said offhandedly, feeling the suffocating crush of speaking to someone new in her lungs. A large part of her wanted to stay in the form of a wolf so she would not have to speak to anyone. She wondered if that was why she was given the power she had, if that was why she was allowed to be completely unhinged and fearless here.

“I apologize for bothering you with my warning; forgive me.” He lowered his head in a humble bow. That was weird.

“Please don’t apologize,” she stammered. “I appreciate the warning. I like my fur in my wolf form; it would’ve been pretty upsetting had she decided she didn’t like me and wanted to skin me.” The ox, thoroughly shaken, nodded curtly and forged through the snow, back to his other three companions.

***

Raulin, Dimitri, and Arkas sat down for a small lunch before the entrance to the dwarven city of Derge beneath the great Mount Astoria. The two unicorns used their noses to brush the snow aside and nibble on the grasses surrounding the small pond that lay at the foot of the tallest known mountain in Palidonaya. Arkas took the last bite of bread and returned to the mountainside, studying the runes, looking for a way in. The writing that was etched into the stone spoke of a test that they needed to pass before entering the tunnels that led to Derge. This troubled Arkas, as he had no way of knowing whether or not they would pass this test. He sat pensively, his mind racing through possibilities. The only real option that he could see was to proceed through the gateway to face whatever lay beyond.

“Raulin, Dimitri, time is not on our side. We must enter the mountain, but we have to proceed with caution, as there is a test that we must pass before we will be allowed into the city of Derge.”

As the three travelers entered the gateway to Derge, a frozen fog surrounded them. Arkas’s beard instantly gathered a frosting, ice crystals sparkling in his thick hair. He found it more difficult to move as he crossed the threshold into the mountain. His mortal body froze in place, and a cool, slimy sensation wriggled in his insides. Once his spirit was pulled out of his body, he could again proceed into the mountain. He looked over his shoulder to see that the unicorns were frozen. Their spirits were quite beautiful. Raulin’s red coat had a silvery frost covering his entire body. Once all three had left the physical realm, they proceeded together into a large golden chamber. A throne made of granite sat proudly, located at the far end of the chamber. They moved to the foot of the throne, where a mighty celestial being appeared suddenly, sitting upon it. A loud baritone voice echoed throughout the chamber, shaking the ground in its cadence.

“I AM THORUNDALL, FIRST KING AND PROTECTOR OF THE GREAT DWARVEN CITY OF DERGE! BEND THE KNEE, THEN REQUEST ENTRY INTO THIS CITY!”

The three travelers quickly dropped to one knee and bowed their heads out of respect for the dwarven king. Arkas was the first to look upon the fully materialized dwarf. His ebony beard flowed down to the middle of his stomach like the waves in a mighty river. His broad nose had a rather reddish hue, and his eyes were a deep brown with large pupils designed for seeing in near-darkness. Upon his head perched a golden crown filled with every type of jewel that one could imagine. His thick black hair draped over his shoulders, equaling the length of his beard. He was adorned in the dress of a king, with a crimson top, black pants, and boots that ended just below the knees. The immense projection of the king overwhelmed the mind, but Arkas knew that in life he would have stood no taller than the middle of his chest. Thorundall had thickly muscled arms and legs, as did all members of his race.

Arkas looked at the boots of the king and spoke in a loud but humble tone. “King Thorundall, we wish to enter the city of Derge and request that your people forge a weapon that will allow us to defend our kingdom against the Dragons of Draconis.”

The king glared at the travelers, unimpressed. “WHAT HAVE YOU TO OFFER THE PEOPLE OF DERGE?”

Arkas pulled a small pouch from his pack, set it on the ground in front of him, and mumbled a verse in the ancient language, waving his hands above the pouch. It began to grow until it stood as tall as Arkas and three times a wide. The king stood from his throne and approached the bag, opening the top. A smile came across the king’s face when the light of the gold coins glowed on it. He needed no more gold, but his nature drew him toward it. He clapped his hands twice, and both he and the bag vanished.

The three looked at each other, wondering what had just happened. The room spun, and with a satisfying pop, they were sucked back into their physical forms, drained and disoriented. They fell to the ground, heads aching from the ordeal. Raulin was the first to speak after shaking his head to force clarity. “Do you believe that our offer of payment was accepted, or did we offend the ancient king?”

Arkas smiled. “That is no ancient king. Thorundall is the current king of the Dwarves of Derge. We will know soon enough if the offer is acceptable.”

The ground shook as the giant throne began to move to the right, exposing a passageway behind it. The opening was around five feet tall by three feet wide. Arkas, Raulin, and Dimitri slowly approached the doorway, peering into the darkness to see what lay in wait beyond its opening. As they neared, a dim light flickered in the depths of the exposed tunnel. They decided to wait to see what was approaching the grand entry. Soon the light grew in strength, and they could make out several figures following a lit torch. Dwarves filed out of the tunnel with Thorundall leading the way.

Raulin looked at Arkas. “What magic did they use to make him appear so vast?”

Arkas smiled and snorted. “Dwarven magic is both ancient and powerful. To pull one’s spirit from their body requires a powerful spell, but to do this with so many is an impressive feat.”

The door groaned open, and at this the three were compelled to drop to their knees. Strange and powerful magic haunted these halls, and Arkas found it incredibly amusing that a spell had been cast that made all drop to their knees when the king entered.

“Rise, we are done with formalities. What weapon do you seek?” Thorundall refused to acknowledge the spell, just dismissed it verbally to prevent the spell from working again on the pair. Thorundall’s voice was not as booming, but carried the same authority in its tone.

“Your people once made the Blade of Atonement that our people used during the last Dragon Wars to defeat the enemy. We wish for you to make a similar weapon.” Arkas kept his tone humble as he addressed the king.

“The price for that blade was great indeed. Are you prepared to make such a sacrifice again?”

Raulin stepped forward. “I am Raulin, King of the unicorns of Equus. My blood is both pure and of the royal line. I will make the sacrifice that will save my kingdom. My son Dimitri is present to assume the throne when I am gone.” Dimitri stamped his front hooves, an act he did when he was nervous.

“Very well, I have seen the payment that was offered and will take your request to the Dwarven Council.”

“But I thought that you were the king. Can you not make such a decision without consulting?” Raulin looked from Thorundall to Arkas in confusion.

“Please forgive us, King Thorundall. Raulin knows not the ways of the dwarven people. We will wait here if need be until they have made a decision.” Arkas again bowed to the king.

“Nonsense, you will come with us and feast while the council meets. We are not barbarians! Your comments offend me not, as we haven’t been in contact with your people for a hundred years. I doubt that your grandfather was alive the last time a dwarf and a unicorn met in council. Now, come and eat. We will prepare a meal that will include several different meats and grains so that everyone can enjoy good company and food while the Council discusses your payment.”

With that, the dwarves led the travelers into the opening and toward the great city of Derge. Arkas, Raulin, and Dimitri all had to duck to fit into the dwarven-sized tunnel. As they made their way deeper into the mountain, Raulin asked Arkas why Thorundall could not decide whether or not to make their weapon.

“While Thorundall is the High King, there are kings for every city in Mirnalduhr. Each king has a seat on the council, which in turn makes decisions for all dwarves. The dwarves adopted this form of government so that no dwarf wields too much power.”

The group emerged from the other end of the tunnel, which allowed for the three travelers to stand upright and take in the wonder that was Derge, the capital of Mirnalduhr. The cavern opened up so that one could not see all the way to the ceiling. Buildings of stone surrounded an enormous castle. White granite was used for most of the buildings, while the castle walls were formed from gold. Torches made the city glow in the vast cavern. The streets were filled with dwarves who were in the process of performing various jobs to maintain the city. As the group approached, the dwarves in turn stopped what they were doing and bent the knee for Thorundall, resuming their duties after he passed. They were led straight to the castle of gold, where they were taken to a vast chamber with a giant table that stretched more than fifty feet in length, though it was only two feet tall. The guests of the king were shown to their places around the table as food was brought in and served to all.

Arkas’s mouth began to water, and his stomach reminded him he hadn’t had a decent meal since the group left Lenovia. There were roasts of many different beasts accompanied by mounds of vegetables, most of which were roots similar to potatoes. There were also great bowls of soup provided. The dwarves wasted no time digging into the food, slurping, chewing, and belching their way through the meal. Raulin and Dimitri were brought great bowls heaped with grain, which they devoured, as they were as hungry as Arkas. Roasts, vegetables, and soups were followed by mounds of dwarven desserts made with heavy cream and custard. Raulin and Dimitri were provided with oats and alfalfa, which were the preferred desserts of the unicorns.

After the meal was finished, the three were led to a sitting room, where Arkas was offered a pipe and tobacco, which he accepted as well as a strong dwarven brandy that he sipped while smoking his pipe. The dwarves were a merry people that worked hard and played just as hard as they worked. They sang, danced, and told stories to entertain the guests. As the night wore on, the party began to thin out. Arkas, Dimitri, and Raulin were shown to their rooms to rest. Thorundall sent word that the decision would be made after everyone had a good night’s sleep. Arkas and the others fell asleep as soon as they settled down into the beds that had been made for them. They slept a dreamless, deep sleep, as they hadn’t had a good rest since they left Lenovia five days earlier. They would soon know if their trip was for naught or if they would have a weapon that would install fear into the hearts of the dragons. A night of peaceful rest followed, and Raulin thought he could stand to die here. He would like to see the sun one last time, to graze upon lush grasses, but for his people, he would die in the darkness of the dwarven mines.