Dragons' Onyx Page 8

  “I don’t mean to make light of the dangers here,” King Arik said calmingly. “I am sworn to an important task, and I intend to keep my vow. In the meantime, your leg needs to be cleaned and bandaged, or you will lose it. I imagine that you will die if you lose the leg. I have not seen anybody else around that could take care of you.”

  “There is nobody else,” affirmed the old man. “At least you are being honest with me, and not telling me that everything will be all right. What artifact could possibly be worth your life?”

  “The Dragons’ Onyx,” answered the king. “It is needed to restore the Sword of Heavens and banish the Darkness from the land.”

  The old man rolled to one side and turned his head to stare at Arik with a look that questioned the visitor’s sanity. “Are you daft, lad?” he inquired. “Mighty wizards have tried to counter the Darkness and failed miserably. You are but a mere lad. Take my advice and flee these woods while you can.”

  King Arik looked up at the old man and smiled. “I will not be leaving you to die,” declared Arik. “I will go to the stream and get some water and then light a fire outside to boil it. I do not have training in the healing arts, though. I have friends with me. I would like one of them to look at your leg. I will send him in while I fetch the water.”

  “Friends?” scowled Jorgel as he reached for his knife that he had laid on the bed when he sat down. “And here I was beginning to trust you. No sense in being a fool if you can’t prove it several times in the same week.”

  Arik swiftly reached out and snared the knife as he rose. “In fact,” he shook his head as he picked up a bucket, “I will send two of them in so that you do not try to hurt one of them. We really mean you no ill. Relax or you will strain your old heart.”

  Jorgel grumbled as Arik turned to leave the cabin. Arik halted at the door and looked back at the old man on the bed. “Do not be alarmed by my friends’ appearances,” he grinned. “They are friendly elves.”

  “Elves?” echoed Jorgel with raised eyebrows. “You really have gone daft, lad.”

  “Perhaps,” chuckled Arik as he opened the door and stepped outside.

  Prince Garong and Prince Darok immediately appeared from their places of concealment. Arik waved them over.

  “The old man is badly injured,” Arik explained. “I am going to fetch some water and start a fire to boil it, but I know little of healing. I know that the elves have powerful healing. Can you take a look at his leg, Prince Garong?”

  “If that is what you wish,” nodded the elven prince.

  “It is,” nodded Arik. “Take either Eltar or Pioti with you. The old man is a crotchety sort, and he might try to harm you if he thinks we are up to evil.”

  “I will watch Garong’s back,” offered Prince Darok.

  “I think not,” chuckled Arik. “He will have a hard enough time believing in elves. Let us not strain his heart with the sight of a burly dwarf.”

  “I will do what I can for him,” promised Prince Garong as he waved for Eltar to join him.

  “Prince Darok,” continued Arik, “keep a watch with Pioti. The old man believes that starting a fire will bring dragons down upon us.”

  The dwarf’s nostrils flared as he nodded and looked upward, as if he was daring a dragon to try starting something while he was on watch. Prince Garong smiled and shook his head as he led Eltar into the small cabin.

  The old man was still on the bed, but had wiggled his way against the wall of the cabin. He tried glaring at the new intruders, but a look of disbelief on his face revealed his curiosity.

  “I am known as Eltar,” one of the elves introduced himself to the old man. “I am only here to protect the life of Prince Garong. Please do not cause any trouble.”

  “Prince?” echoed Jorgel. “An elf prince? This is some kind of sick joke, isn’t it? An elf prince is going to bandage the leg of an old trapper? I must be delirious with fever. This isn’t really happening at all. Blast those dragons! They are probably venomous as well as nasty.”

  “Actually,” the elf prince said soothingly, “dragons are not venomous at all. Let me see your wound.”

  “And turn my back to your thieving friend?” blustered the old man. “Do I look like I am a newborn?”

  “And what do you have to steal that would interest an elf prince?” retorted Eltar as he looked around the sparse cabin. “Mind your manners and roll over.”

  “Please,” implored Prince Garong with a disapproving look towards Eltar. “I can only do as Valon requests if you allow me to see your wound.”

  Jorgel looked around the cabin for the third elf, but could not see anyone else. “Where is this Valon?” he asked as he grudgingly rolled over on his stomach. “I did not see him come in.”

  “Valon is our name for King Arik,” Prince Garong explained as he gazed at the gaping wound.

  He frowned as he saw the depth of the slash in the man’s flesh. He tenderly felt around the wound to determine the extent of the infection.

  “King Arik?” mumbled Jorgel. “Do you mean the lad, Arik, that was just in here?”

  “Yes, that is who I mean,” Prince Garong answered distractedly as the old man flinched form his touch. “Sorry, I will attempt to be as painless as I can, but I need to know the seriousness of your wound.”

  “But he is just a mere lad,” Jorgel grunted with pain. “He did not say anything about being a king.”

  “King Arik, Valon to the elves, is a mighty leader,” Prince Garong replied as he finished examining the wound and stood up. “The dwarves call him Garala. To the fairies he is known as the Bringer, and to the unicorns, he is the Deliverer. Thousands upon thousands of people follow that mere lad, as you call him. Your wound is quite serious. It must be cleansed before I can do anything to heal it. The cleaning will cause you some discomfort, but it is necessary.”

  “Do what you can for the leg,” Jorgel said dismissively. “I am used to pain.”

  “Then I shall see how the boiling goes,” nodded the elf prince. “Eltar will stay with you.”

  “To guard me no doubt,” frowned the old man.

  “If that is how you wish to see it,” shrugged Prince Garong. “Regardless, Eltar will stay with you.”

  Jorgel rolled over and watched the elf prince leave. His eyes examined Eltar for a long moment before he spoke.

  “Is this real?” he asked Eltar. “Was that man really a prince? Is the lad really King Arik?”

  “Why would either of them lie?” retorted Eltar. “There is no need to impress you with titles.”

  “Why are they bothering with the likes of me?” asked Jorgel.

  “That I cannot answer,” Eltar replied truthfully. “I suggested that we bypass the cabin when we saw it. I do not care to spend any more time in this forest than is necessary.”

  “I wasn’t ever sure if the tales of elves and dwarves were real,” mused the old man. “I guess there is more to this world than even I imagined. Have you ever seen a dwarf? A real dwarf I mean, not just some short person that others are making fun of.”

  One of Eltar’s eyebrows rose comically. “Would you like to meet one?” he asked.

  “Oh, heavens no,” Jorgel shook his head. “They are gruesome characters if what I heard is true. I heard their mouths are big enough to swallow small pigs whole.”

  Eltar laughed uncharacteristically. “Your description is not far from the truth. They are fierce warriors, but they are not too smart. Do not let Prince Darok know that I said that, though.”

  “Prince Darok?” puzzled Jorgel. “I thought his name was Garong?”

  “Prince Garong is an elf,” explained Eltar. “Darok is the dwarf prince. You do not need to fear him. I doubt that he would come in here in any event. I do not see anything to eat in this cabin.”

  “There is a dwarf traveling with you, too?” the old man shook his head. “It sounds like a traveling carnival.”

  “It does,” Eltar nodded with a frown. “Especially if you add in the fairy princ
e and the unicorn prince.”

  “Now I know you are pulling my leg,” scowled the old man.

  “I would hope not,” stated Prince Garong as he entered the cabin with a hot, wet cloth. “Your leg is in no condition to be toyed with. Let me remove some of the dirt while the water continues to boil.”

  “He did not mean that literally,” clarified Eltar. “I was not touching him.”

  “So who else is in your party?” Jorgel asked the elf prince as he rolled over to expose his wound.

  “There are others with us,” replied Prince Garong as he cleaned the dirt off of the old man’s leg. “Who they are is not important. Your leg is all that we need to deal with.”

  “Perhaps it would ease my suspicions,” posed Jorgel as he grunted. “Besides, what else do you have to talk about while you poke pain into my leg?”

  “I already told him,” confessed Eltar. “I did not see any harm in it.”

  “Then you still have much to learn,” warned Prince Garong. “We are not here to announce to the world the location of Valon or the people that he travels with. It can only make our task of keeping him safe that much harder.”

  “So there are others with you,” pushed Jorgel. “Is there a dwarf prince?”

  “Prince Darok,” nodded Garong with a frown.

  “A fairy?” continued the old man.

  “Prince Midge,” sighed Prince Garong. “And there is a unicorn prince as well. He is known as Shamta Chaco. You would be wise not to mention this to anyone. It would be a poor way to repay King Arik for his efforts on your behalf.”

  “I will not betray you or him,” promised Jorgel. “I just find all of this hard to believe. Surely, you can understand my desire for answers?”

  “I see that we are all getting along well enough,” smiled King Arik as he entered the cabin with a bucket of hot water. “How does the wound look, Prince Garong?”

  “It is infected as you noted,” replied the elf prince. “Still, I think we are in time to save it. If a dragon inflicted this, the old man is lucky to have lived. Few people have been known to survive an encounter with a dragon.”

  “You don’t have to talk like I am not here,” complained Jorgel. “At least not yet.”

  “You will live, old man,” replied Prince Garong. “Find something to bite on while I clean your wound. It will be painful.”

  Jorgel bit on the collar of his tunic while Prince Garong cleaned out the wound with hot water.

  “Eltar,” ordered Prince Garong, “get the pack from my horse. There are things in there that I will need.”

  Eltar silently left the hut. King Arik looked on with concern as Prince Garong finished cleaning the wound. Distant laughter could be heard from outside, but nobody commented on it.

  “Some fresh meat would be good for him to eat,” Prince Garong suggested to King Arik. “It will aid the healing process. Perhaps we can find some game in the area?”

  “I will see what we can do,” nodded King Arik as he turned and left the hut.

  Eltar entered as Arik left. He placed the prince’s pack on the floor and opened it up. After the elf prince had finished cleaning up the wound, Prince Garong dismissed Eltar, so he returned outside. He saw Pioti standing near the small fire with a rabbit. Prince Darok was laughing so hard that his body was shaking. Eltar walked up alongside King Arik and shook his head when he could not find the source of humor.

  “What is Prince Darok laughing about?” he asked the king.

  “I am not sure,” shrugged King Arik. “I asked them to get some fresh meat for Jorgel and ourselves. Pioti returned with the rabbit and Prince Darok began laughing. He hasn’t stopped long enough for me to ask why. There was laughter out here before, too.”

  “That was my doing,” admitted Eltar. “I told them the old man’s description of a dwarf. Pioti found it very humorous.”

  The dwarf’s laughter had brought tears to his eyes, but he still managed to say, “And we are going to share that? Which paw do I get?”

  “It is only the first one,” protested the elf. “I can get more. It is more than you managed to find.”

  “Not exactly,” laughed Prince Darok as he turned and disappeared into the trees. He came back with a deer slung over his shoulder. “The poor deluded man is not going to be able to hunt for some time with a bad leg,” Prince Darok pointed out. “The leavings of this deer will last him for a week at least.”

  “I doubt there will be much left after you eat,” frowned Pioti.

  “Of course,” added Prince Darok as his laughter died out, “I am not sure why I care what the old man eats. He certainly doesn’t think much of dwarves.”

  “He has never seen a dwarf,” King Arik interjected calmly. “If we keep making enough noise to attract the dragons, he may never get the chance. When Jorgel does get to meet you, Prince Darok, try to remember that his only notion about dwarves will have come from you.”

  “I would not be mean to him,” balked the dwarf prince. “I was just having fun with the mighty elf hunter. Didn’t I think wisely enough to ensure that the old man had food after we left?”

  “You did indeed,” smiled King Arik as he shook his head mirthfully. “Let’s get our food preparation done so we can extinguish that fire. Jorgel has lived here a long time, and he says that fires attract the dragons.”

  Pioti hooked the rabbit to his belt and went to help the dwarf prepare the deer. Eltar merged into the woods to make sure that nobody was approaching. A few minutes later, the door to the cabin opened. Prince Garong stood holding the door as Jorgel hobbled out of the hut.

  “Should you be walking on that?” asked King Arik.

  “I told him it would be good for the healing,” answered Prince Garong. “As long as he doesn’t overdo it. I thought it wise for him to meet the rest of our group, seeing as he has already learned who they are.”

  “Not a bad idea,” nodded King Arik as the old man slowly walked towards the fire to see what was going on.

  Arik noticed that Jorgel’s eyes constantly flicked upward, searching the sky. The old man stopped short and stared at the dwarf.

  “The dwarf is Prince Darok,” introduced King Arik. “He has managed to get you a deer so that you will not need to hunt for a few days.”

  “It a small one,” the dwarf shrugged apologetically, “but it was the best that I could find on short notice.”

  “The other elf is Pioti,” the king said as the elf looked up from his cutting.

  “And the fairy and the unicorn?” inquired Jorgel as his eyes continued to watch Prince Darok.

  Arik opened his breast pocket as he mentally told Chaco to show his horn. Prince Midge leaped out of the pocket and perched on King Arik’s shoulder.

  “I am Prince Midge,” chirped the fairy. “The unicorn’s name is Chaco. You can only speak to him in your mind.”

  “Amazing,” Jorgel shook his head. “Simply amazing. I would not have believed that I would live to see this. “And you, young man, never told me you were a king. Why are you wasting your time with me?”

  “Why do you say that we are wasting our time?” retorted King Arik. “Would you not help someone in distress as we have?”

  “Sure I would,” countered Jorgel, “but I am no king now, am I?”

  “Being a king means little to me,” shrugged Arik. “What does matter a great deal to me is finding the Dragons’ Onyx. Have you heard of it?”

  “Never heard of it,” Jorgel shook his head, “but it sounds like it belongs to the dragons. If that is the case, you might as well go home now. Dragons don’t give up any treasure.”

  “It is not a quest that I am prepared to abandon,” declared King Arik. “There are many people who are depending upon me and my success in this quest. What can you tell of us of the dragons?”

  “Other than they are foul, nasty beings?” quipped the old man. “I can tell you one thing. Wherever you are going, you should not stay on this trail going east.”

  “East is the way we ar
e heading,” frowned King Arik. “Why shouldn’t we use this trail?”

  “Because it opens up into a meadow not far past the creek,” explained Jorgel. “That is where the dragons love to hunt. Where is it that you are trying to get to?”

  King Arik pulled the Sword of Heavens free of its sheath. Jorgel’s eyes grew wide, and he started backing away, fear clearly evident in his face.

  “I am not going to harm you,” smiled King Arik. “You asked a question and I am getting you the answer. The Sword of Heavens points to the Dragons’ Onyx.”

  “The sword tells you where to go?” questioned Jorgel.

  “It does,” nodded King Arik as he swung in a complete circle.

  When he got to the east, the Sword of Heavens vibrated heavily. The sword also rose up into the air at a sharp angle. King Arik’s surprise clearly showed on his face.

  “It has never done that before,” he commented, “but it is pointing towards the gem right now.”

  “That makes sense,” agreed the old man. “The dragons have their lairs up in the mountains to the east. Most of them that is. You can find dragon lairs all over Grakus I hear. Still, you don’t want to go through that meadow. I can tell you a safer way. It will not be safe, mind you, but it will be safer than sticking your nose into that meadow.”

  “Then I would be indebted to you,” declared King Arik. “Which way do we go?”

  “You will owe me no debt,” smiled the old man. “You have probably saved my life today. What more could a man ask for. Alongside the creek is a trail heading south. Going along the creek is good cover from the dragons, too. They can’t hear you unless you make a lot of noise. Just keep out of the creek itself. Any place that is visible from the sky is dangerous.”

  “I understand that,” nodded King Arik. “How far south do we go?”

  “Several leagues,” answered the old man. “If you follow the creek directly, you will see where it joins with another creek heading for the coast. Just past that is a narrow trail heading eastward. It is not a well-used trail so it might be hard to spot, but I am sure that you will find it. It is an old miners’ trail. It winds through the woods a bit before it starts to climb up the mountain.”