The Shadow of Básaora

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley.

Wild wind ripped at my travel-worn cloak and sent red grit hurling off the edge of the rocky cliff I stood upon. The pungent scent of fire and brimstone assaulted my senses. I lifted my hand over my nose in disgust… and fear.

This was the cursed Valley of Básaora, the place where living magic was sundered from Men. “Lord Nathair has sent us to our deaths,” Laisren muttered, staring blankly at the steep crags to the far West.

My gaze swept to the point on which his was transfixed, where the valley was deepest and most treacherous. Bursts of pale orange light danced ominously along walls of adamantine, and bellows like thunder rolled from stony depths.

“Need I remind you the price of desertion? If we are to die either way, I prefer to take the path where death is not guaranteed,” Nimhe hissed, scowling, “Place your wards and let us be off. Lord Nathair expects our swift return, and I am loathe to disappoint him.” Nimhe’s deft fingers dove into her leather satchel and produced a smooth stone inscribed with the rune Ælghiz, defense. She clasped her hands together around the stone, then whispered an inaudible incantation. Sparks of blue light glimmered around her then slowly vanished.

“As you say, Àrdan,” Laisren bowed his head deferentially.

I reached into my own satchel and revealed the same rune. My mind wandered as I held the stone. I pondered the origin of it. I remembered wading through the ford of the sacred river Cerún for days on end, until my bare feet were cut and bloody. I closed my eyes, allowing myself for a moment to be swept away in reverie. Memories of old Master Feàrna’s deep, melodic voice brushed my ears:

“These stones are known as The Scales of Anthül, god of Knowledge. Know him well, and he may serve you well.”

“Tes rannoch vinitum,” I whispered. My skin prickled as the ward took effect. I returned my runestone to its satchel, then cast a brief look at Laisren. He had finished his incantation, but his aura appeared unchanged.

Surely he is not so foolish?

I brushed the thought away. Laisren is responsible for himself. I turned my head. Nimhe and the others were already many strides ahead of us. I hastened to join the rest of our company; our strength would be in numbers, after all. I swallowed my dread. “Come, Laisren,” I muttered, “Lest we fall behind.”

Leather armor creaked, cloaks billowed, and spear shafts knocked against the rocky ground as our company carefully wove its way down the narrow path. Long hours passed, until the bright sun mocked us from its zenith in the sky. Cheerful and hot, there were no clouds to obscure its watchful gaze. Moisture beaded on my brow. I cursed the sun, and tied a strip of cloth around my head to prevent sweat from falling into my eyes.

“Halt,” Nimhe’s voice pierced the solemn silence of our troop, “We’ll rest here.” She ascended a tumble of red stones and entered a wide, shallow cave to our right then sat cross-legged at the center. “Cathal, if you would…” She made a sweeping gesture. I nodded, following her. After removing my heavy pack and depositing my spear next to it, I rolled my shoulders and stretched. Endelion sat her things next to mine.

“I’ll help,” she said, retrieving a runestone from her pouch. She placed it on the stone floor and mumbled a few words. The rock began to crack and undulate until a bowl-like depression formed.

“Thank you,” I replied, depositing my rune, Laguz, at the bowl’s center and lacing my hands together. Closing my eyes and knitting my brows, I whispered, “Aihg qerún infael, na’til.”

Clear water bubbled from the rune, filling the depression. The party refilled their waterskins, then returned to their respective positions in the cave. After filling my skein I released the spell. The summoned water evaporated into mist. I reclaimed my seat at Nimhe’s left, and stared vacantly while nibbling on a piece of dried venison that Móhri had handed out.

“As you know, the dragons are newcomers to this valley. The native fauna are likely distressed,” she paused, “Notably, the tulumàr.”

I paled. “We should expect them to be more aggressive than usual. Be on your guard. We can’t afford to lose anyone before approaching the dragons. Lord Nathair’s errand is of the highest import, and will give us much-needed insight into dragon physiology,” she paused again, taking a sip from her waterskin. A flock of small birds erupted from a nearby bush. “Our ancestors’ records of them are few, save that they were considered creatures of great terror even in the Age of Edwyr. Why they have reappeared over a millennia after supposedly being hunted to extinction by the Order of Anthülari, we may only speculate.”

Endelion and Gildas signed Kenaz over their chests. The shadow of a hawk sailed just beyond our resting place, as a delicate mist of sand swept into the valley. I felt sleep tugging at the edges of my vision. Summoning the water had been more costly than I originally thought. Nimhe started speaking again, but my mind struggled to focus on her words. I found myself gazing past Móhri at a pair of symmetrical black slits.

My pulse quickened. I groped the gritty floor of the cave, searching for my spear. My eyes remained locked. “Móhri,” I choked. A massive head the color of sand. Móhri, Móhri… My muscles locked. My bones ached. Nimhe continued to speak. Should I yell? Should I scream for Móhri to move? Would it prompt the beast to attack? “Árdan,” my voice uncannily calm as Nimhe turned to me, furrowing her brow.

Too late.

The tulumàr lunged forward and enclosed Móhri’s torso from shoulder to groin in its maw. Móhri screamed as his ward shattered. We stood, spears hanging limply at our sides. Ropes of saliva pooled as the tulumàr loosed a rumbling snarl and struck its powerful jaws together. Then, a sickening crunch, followed by gurgling, and finally… silence.

“Run!” Nimhe roared. I turned, stumbled, then bolted out of the cave as the creature ripped and shook Móhri’s lifeless body. “To the West! Hurry!” Guttural whoops and shrieks echoed in the valley. More of them. My heart raced. I ground my teeth and tightened my grip on my spear as I flew over crag and stone.

Pounding footsteps followed mine. My eyes widened in panic. I’ll never outrun it, it’s not possible… A glimmer of hope ignited my heart as I perceived a narrow track of rock on a cliff-face where I hoped the creatures could not follow. Panting, I picked up a stone shard and used it to scramble up the sheer wall onto the tiny shelf of rock. The shelf crumbled beneath my grasp.

More screams rang out as bone and flesh were shorn apart by wicked fangs. Whoops of excitement elicited from reptilian throats as the tulumàr devoured my comrades. I tumbled into the dark valley as a pair of monstrous black wings swept above me…

Dragon.

My body slammed into the hard ground. Breath whooshed from my lungs. I coughed and wheezed until I could finally capture small mouthfuls of air. I laid there for a moment, concentrating on my breathing. At last, I gathered the strength to roll onto my side and clutched at my ribs. At least one of them was broken, if not several. “Cathal!” A voice shouted.

“I’m here!” I gasped, wincing.

Vicious roars and blasts of flame suddenly erupted from the southern slopes. A massive black and bronze dragon ripped into the tulumàr with unbridled ferocity. It crushed one with its enormous claws, then incinerated another. The creatures hissed and screeched, circling it slowly. The dragon reared its regal and terrible head, revealing a crown of twisted horns and reptillian eyes the color of molten metal. It lashed its powerful tail as smoke rolled from its maw.

Laisren and Nimhe finally appeared, leaning against each other for support. “You’re alive,” I rasped, tearing my eyes away from the scene before me. “Did anyone else make it?”

Laisren dropped to his knees to help me up. Nimhe’s face was pale as ice. She shook her head. “No,” she managed to croak. An irate bellow emitted from the dragon. We whipped our heads around. The tulumàr harassed and bit at the dragon’s haunches, fleeing just out of reach when it whirled on them, and filled the air with fiery rage. Another smaller dragon dove through the sky above us to join the fray. The gust from its powerful wings struck us to the ground.

“We need to get out of here,” Nimhe commanded, hoisting herself up. “We’re closer to our objective than I thought. We must make haste, while the dragons are distracted by the beasts,” Laisren and I nodded gravely, remembering our task was not yet done. So, we limped along Básaora’s floor, sheltering against the cold, stony walls as the sun began to set on the cursed valley.