Blade of Erogrund

Chapter 41- Shadow of Draeknol

Godric's horse hooves fell muffled against the grass of the plain as his charger drew in with Ennor's. The king perhaps turned to nod at him but in the hissing torrent of wind that tore at them Godric could not tell. 

Behind he could hear the furious marching of hundreds of horses and thousands of Men. Each hoof beat carried them closer to the towering fortress of Draeknol, but their horses did not shy away nor did the drumming of the army behind them quiet or even slow. 

Even as he thanked Ecthion for their courage the shrieks of the Dragons grew in pitch and intensity until the serpents burst from the cavernous jaws of Draeknol like so many coiling, venomous tongues. Their wings roared against the air until they soared into the sky, twisting and turning to face the approaching army. Silver, gold, black, green, red, and blue scales glistened with the same empty beauty as a falling icicle suspended above its helpless victim. The torrent of serpents lashed against one another until they had spread through the sky, swooping downward toward the galloping lines of cavalrymen. 

Hissing its spiteful cry, a Dragon of the purest black landed tumultuously before them. The army of spikes that guarded its spine rippled with excitement or anger or - perhaps - a mixture of the two. Two malicious yellow eyes flashed lustfully from beneath a crown of black horns that sent shivers down Godric's spine. 

But most familiar to the boy was the gleaming stub of jagged flesh that protruded from the serpent's knee where its cruel talon should have been. The scarred flesh mangled painfully around the grossly broken stump that was quickly hidden by one of the beast's shadow-like wings. 

Did I not tell you we would meet again, Little Hero? 

The dragon's voice seethed with nearly tangible hatred that burned as scorchingly  as the fire that no doubt simmered in its chest. Its remaining leg etched the ground with its blade-like claws as Ennor and Godric reigned in their horses to a stop some ten feet from the coiling serpent. Another hundred yards behind it gaped the vast cavernous openings that led to the hollow mountain of Draeknol. 

 Godric tore Erogrund from its sheath to reveal its icy crystal face. The yellow orbs of the dragon's eyes narrowed at the sight of the shining blade but would neither flinch nor turn away. 

"So you did," he shouted. "And do you not remember the blade that has so crippled you?" 

Smoke curled in sulfurous coils from the beast's flaring nostrils. 

To call the dragon crippled without a leg is to say the bat grounded without its talon. A greater strength than you shall ever possess resides in every fiber of my being, tiny Hatchling of Men. I have dashed the foundations of your cities and slain your hordes like cattle.

"Yet it is the beast that is stayed at the sight of the weapon. This is why you are called Evetheast the Weak in the tongues of Men, least of the Hatchlings of Draeknol," Ennor bellowed accusingly through the mouth of his helm. 

The dragon made no reply but its head reared almost majestically against the black stone of Draeknol. For a moment the midnight of its scales traced the purest white and its cruel jaws split to release a pouring torrent of the reddest fire Godric had ever had the misfortune to behold. 

"Shields!" Ennor cried, diving from his steed as the crimson tongues licked their crying horses. 

Godric followed the king's example and lifted his iron-plated shield until the seething inferno ceased to cascade across its surface. 

"Is that all you possess in strength, Evetheast the Weak?" Godric sneered with such boldness that he found even himself surprised. 

Such a roar shook the ground that Godric found the ground under his feet tremble uncontrollably. Rows of glistening, knife-like teeth barred their sharpened tips through the gaping mouth of the dragon as it bellowed furiously, its blazing breath cracking Godric's skin even beneath his helm.