***
Dorn huddled, shivering in the furthest corner, where she sat crying, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face buried between them. Why had they done this to her? She had done no wrong. Unable to find the answers in her own mind, she began to question the Divines, but they were as silent as the indomitable mountains enveloping her. As she wiped the tears from her eyes she became aware of a softly glowing light on the opposite wall. The light did not illuminate the cleft as a torch would; instead it glowed with a pale iridescence. It was not long before Dorn's childish curiosity got the better of her. The questions in her mind were, for the moment, forgotten. Rising slowly to her feet, she went to investigate the strange light.
"Dorn." A soft, still voice filled the cleft; it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. "Do not fear for your life or that of the child which you carry."
"Who are you?" Dorn reached out to touch the light, her hand passing straight through it. "What are you?"
The voice replied, "I am the One."
The voice reminded her of her father, but she knew it could not be him. Dorn stepped back from the light, trembling gently. "Are you the Divines?"
"No. I am the One." The light began to expand. "I am the whisper on a thousand winds. I am the kiss of the sea's salty spray. I am the smile in the eye of a newborn child. I am the one who made you. And I have chosen you to bear one who will act in my name."
"Why me?" Dorn turned around, watching the light as it wrapped her in its ethereal arms.
"You are special to me," said the One. "Rest now."
The light spread out, filling the entire cave and surrounding Dorn in a warm embrace.
Yawning, Dorn knelt down placing one hand upon the floor to steady herself. Her eyes closed as she slipped gently to the floor where she slept until late in the afternoon.
"Child," a gruff voice said, "I've brought you things to eat."
"You're not the One," Dorn said, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. "Who are you?"
"I am Griklag, friend of Arrborn. I have brought you food." He opened his rucksack and pulled out its contents. "It's not much, but it will do 'til Aaron gets here."
"Aaron, who's he?" Dorn tore off a chunk of bread from the crusty loaf and ate it like someone who had not eaten for many days.
Griklag looked at Dorn, thinking hard for a moment about how best to answer. "You'll see. Eat everything you can. You've got a long journey ahead of you. I'll not see you again this side of the wee one coming," he said, nodding to her belly. "Looks to me like you're halfway already." His smile was lost somewhere in his thick beard. "I must go. It has been a real honor meeting you, Dorn."
"How do you know my name?" Dorn swallowed her mouthful, eagerly tearing another hunk from the loaf.
"Arrborn," he said hoisting the empty rucksack onto his back. "He knows a lot more about this than I do."
"Will I see him again?" She said helping Griklag to get the rucksack over his shield. "What's the picture on your shield, is it a ghost?"
"Aye, you'll see old Arrborn again. He has a knack of turning up out of nowhere." Griklag laughed heartily. "That ghost is the spirit of the One." He gave Dorn a hug then, holding her at arm's length, he added, "You'll find out soon enough about the spirit of the One, I'm sure you will."
Dorn kissed Griklag on the cheek. "Thank you for your kindness." She smiled.
"Thank you, lass." Clearing his throat Griklag pulled his hat down tight around his ears. "It will be dark in a few hours, but hopefully Aaron will be here before it gets too late. I've no lamp or I'd leave it with you. I'm sorry, lassie."
"I'm not scared. The One will give me light," Dorn smiled.
"You know the One?" Griklag turned around to face her.
"Yes, he was here earlier, a light on the rock." Dorn waved enthusiastically at the wall behind her.
The look on the child's face told Griklag everything he needed to know; she was telling the truth for sure.
"Well, I'll be seeing you." Nodding knowingly he turned to leave.
"Farewell Griklag."
Dorn watched him as he made his way back down the crumbling path. She continued watching until the little dwarf was completely out of sight then she sat down in the opening of the cleft to wait for the mysterious Aaron. Below, she could see the dense canopy of the forest, verdant and lush, teeming with life. This was Learmont Forest, stretching all the way along the foothills of the Black Iron Mountains, hiding the abundant caves beneath its dark shroud. What she could not see was the wildlife stalking the forest floor or dwelling within the confines of the canopy. A steady breeze blew across the face of the mountains gathering up any loose dust and scattering it over the forest below. Dorn, sheltered from the elements, sat looking out to the west, into the late afternoon sun soaking up the last of its warmth. She watched the clouds drift over the distant hills of Mor imagining their shadows to be giant's footprints upon the meadows.
A shadow passed before the sun. A dark shape swept close to the black walls of the mountain where it would often come to hunt. Having found its quarry it prepared to land. Its huge claws bit into the flinty mountainside, scattering chunks of rock as though they were a child's marbles. It began to claw its way toward the cleft.
Dorn ran screaming for the shelter of the hollow as rocks clattered around her. She could hear the loud scraping, scratching of the beast's claws upon the rockface as it drew closer to her shelter. A soft light began to glow next to her where she cowered in the deepest corner.
"Dorn, do not be afraid," a calm voice said.
The thunder of the beast's talons could be felt within the cleft as it positioned itself by the entrance to the cleft, effectively sealing the exit. Dorn could hear the monster's breathing, deep and low.
"Dorn of Bethraim." A deep, rumbling voice growled through the entrance of the cleft. "I have come for you. Do not be afraid to come out. I will not harm you."
Peeling herself from the back wall, Dorn began edging her way toward the entrance. Whatever was out there, it was blocking out the sun.
"Come, we must hurry if we are to make it home before dark," the voice urged.
Dorn stepped out onto the narrow ledge, terrified of what was waiting for her. She craned her neck back to try and see what was blocking the sun, but she was unable to make out any detail.
"Wait, allow me to move aside." The sun glared in her eyes, preventing her from seeing anything at all. Half-blind she stumbled forward and toppled over the edge. Before the scream had left her mouth strong, muscular claws snatched her from the air. Dorn screamed again as the dense forest came rushing up to greet her before the monster snapped open its wings. The forest rushed beneath them as the creature ripped the top from a tree with another claw. Roaring louder than thunder, it snapped its mouth at the forest, tearing out ancient treetops in a single bite.
Beneath the canopy, Griklag smiled as he closed the door of his house for one last night's sleep in Mor. Soon he would be back among his own people in Grimlaw.
Higher and higher they climbed, rising up and over the Dark Iron Hills into the land of the dwarves: Grimlaw. Despite being so high in the air, Dorn felt safe and secure in the clutches of the beast. Its thick-scaled feet were as hard as Griklag's shield and equally beautiful. She ran her hand over the ringed scales which reminded her of the tables her father Eliazer had cut from a fallen oak. She was amazed at how silent the creature was as it flew high among the clouds.
Looking down at the land below with its wide open spaces and swaying grasses, Dorn could see herds of black-brown animals flowing in amorphous dark stains as they moved upon the open grasslands. She watched the thick wings of the beast as they spread out like horizontal sails catching the updraughts rising from the mountains below. This side of the Dark Iron Hills was covered in tufts of tall yellow grass and spindly trees which stuck out at awkward angles from the rocks. She could make out the dark shapes of creatures moving slowly over the mountainside below. It was only then she realized she had b
een riding in a dragon's claws; a very large dragon's claw.
The dragon swooped down to the ground pulling up at the last moment and lowering its hind legs to land, this time gently.
one more mouth to feed
The dragon loosened his claws and set Dorn onto her feet. She stood still for a moment reassured by the solidity of the earth. She was standing in an extensive corral overlooked to the west by the Black Iron Mountains, rugged and faceless. Her eyes followed the curve of the wall toward to the south where heavy serpentine roots clung to the rocks. Weary looking trees overhung the mouth of a cave, where tangled vines formed emerald curtains, concealing the upper reaches of the dragon's lair. Bordering the northern side of the cave entrance was a wall of large boulders which Dorn could never hope to climb. She was here to stay. Turning, she looked up at the dragon, its dark crimson-scaled skin melting into the reddening sky.
"I am Aaron," it said, dropping a torn treetop onto a pile. Dorn screamed as a thick, black, hairy leg poked out of the pile of branches, quickly followed by another. A bulbous head ringed with glittering eyes burst from the foliage. The spider's eyes turned toward Dorn. Hissing vehemently it lunged forward, trailing its shattered hind legs. But it was too slow to escape the descending shadow. The spider disappeared beneath Aaron's foot as he stamped it into the ground, rocking Dorn from her feet.
"Are you all right? I did not mean to harm you." Aaron reached out his claw, helping Dorn back on to her feet with a gentle nudge.
"I'm okay," she said, dusting herself off, "it's been a bit of a day."
Aaron chuckled. "I would imagine it has. Come inside."
Aaron swung his head into the overhanging vines to part the heavy drapes. Inside, the cavern was lit by glowing rocks filled with a fire of their own. To one side a large campfire waited to be lit. Adjacent to it were piles of trays and plates formed from some of Aaron's smaller scales. A mixture of knives, varying in size, lay in a neat row. When Dorn examined the knives, she could not decide whether they were made for work or for fighting. There were bowls, pots, large stew pans and several flagons. Much of it reminded Dorn of home and the people she had been forced to leave behind.
"You were expecting me!" Dorn said, searching through a pile of various dried fish, meats and fruit which had been stored in baskets along the walls of the cavern. "How long has all this been here?"
"It has taken many months to get it here without anyone knowing. Arrborn has been gathering supplies in readiness for your arrival," said Aaron, lying down with only his head in the mouth of the cavern, his enormous bulk blocked out much of the remaining daylight. Watching Dorn rearrange things to her liking, he said, "Arrborn knew from the very first time he held you as an infant that you were to be the one that would bear the child of the prophecy."
"How do you know Arrborn?" Dorn asked as she began to sort through an assortment of clothing that had been left for her.
"I was raised by Arrborn's father when they used to live in Mor," Aaron told her.
"Is that where you learnt of the prophecy?" Dorn asked. Pulling a warm shawl about her shoulders, she continued her exploration of the provisions.
Stretching himself like a dog before a fire, Aaron yawned, "Mostly. Is there something you need?" He watched Dorn tossing the food that she would not eat into a pile, "The prophecy tells of many things: of how the world will be at the time of the last warrior, of a great war among all the races, of allegiances and betrayals. Arrborn believes the Mage Guild will come to an end, and a new order will come to Mor. There will be much bloodshed."
"I wish to light the fire." Shrugging her shoulders, Dorn leaned back against the cavern wall. “But there is no flame.”
Aaron blew a stream of pale yellow flames to ignite the waiting fire for her.
"During this coming war, our enemies will rise against us and sweep through our land like a scourge. Then a child will be born in a land of darkness. He will be like a light for the lost. He will restore fathers to their sons and mothers to their daughters. He will rebuild shattered cities and restore order to chaos."
"So where do I come into the story? There is no mention of a girl in a dragon's cave." Dorn, placing her hands on her hips, stood between Aaron and the fire. "Why am I here?"
"You carry the promise!"
Dorn stared incredulously at Aaron, his large eyes glinting with the firelight. Drawing a deep breath, Aaron opened his mouth in another wide yawn revealing the armory of teeth which lined his mouth, and the thick pink, deeply grooved tongue with the texture of tree bark.
"Your son is the promised one. We have been preparing for your arrival, yes," Aaron said in response to Dorn's unspoken questions.
"Oh!" Sinking to the floor, Dorn suddenly felt the enormity of what lay before her. What had begun as the desecration of her innocence had now become the future hope of Alzear.
"Is everything all right, Dorn? You look pale." Aaron's breath flicked Dorn's long dark hair about her face.
"How can this baby be the child of the prophecy? I am told his father is a warlock, the greatest of evils."
Dorn moved closer to Aaron and, settling against his cheek, she wept.
"A warlock is no more evil than any other creature. It is the choices which we all make in life that shape us into what we are. What was meant for evil, the One will make good. There is nothing he cannot turn around for his glory. The greatest evil is that demon, Accuson, who prowls the earth looking for souls to devour. He masquerades as a being of light whilst beguiling all with his silver tongue. Yet in his heart he only seeks only to steal, kill and destroy."
Dorn said nothing; her mind whirled at the improbability of her situation. Wrapping the shawl tightly about her, Dorn drifted into a long, deep sleep. Aaron curled his lips back allowing his breath to drift out over Dorn to keep her warm. Tomorrow he would show her the world beyond the corral. He would then begin the difficult task of teaching Dorn how to prepare for the birth, as best he could.
The two of them slept through the night oblivious to the sounds of fighting coming from outside the compound.
The morning sun rising over the emerald sea brought with it a balmy heat. The salty air rose up the mountains, rolling back the blanket of mist the night had left behind. Aaron was in the compound inspecting the walls he had built to protect the den from intruders, secretly sunning himself. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his wings, capturing as much of the sun as possible on his back. With his wings spread out across the corral, he stood up on his hind legs, his thighs as thick as houses and as rich in color as any sunset sky. A smile broke across his broad face as he turned toward the morning sun to bathe his pale belly in its gentle rays.
Dorn had been told about dragons by her parents. She knew as much any other child, but here, standing in front of her, was the largest dragon she could ever have imagined. Dorn's eyes traced along Aaron's flank where a broad fold of skin hung in a scaled roll. A ridge of horny vertical plates ran from the nape of his neck to the end of his twin tails protecting his vertebrae with their flanged bases. A succession of thick scales ran from his nostrils, all the way over his large dark green eyes, to join the first spinal plate. He stretched his broad neck toward the morning sky yawning and let out a low guttural growl. Gently lowering himself back onto all fours so as not to knock Dorn from her feet again he turned toward the pile of torn trees. Picking up a mouthful of branches from the pile he took them inside where he dropped them on the smoldering embers.
Dorn was busy rummaging through the dried foods looking for something tasty for breakfast.
"What do you eat Aaron?" she asked holding up some dried meat and fish
"Whatever I want to." He licked up some of the red-black rocks scattered around the fire. He slowly ground the rocks in his mouth for a while before he spat them back onto the embers, rekindling the fire in a flash of sparks and flame.
"Is that how you make fire?" Dorn asked. Picking up one of the stones she placed it in her own mouth as Aaron had done. "U
gh!" Screwing up her face in disgust, she spat the crumbling stone from her mouth onto the fire, causing it to spark and crackle as the spittle caught the flames.
Aaron laughed. "It's one way!" He shook his head. "I have never seen a human try grinding dragon dung before."
Dorn retched.
"Lots of good spider meat in there," Aaron poked at the stones with a claw. "That reminds me."
Aaron went back outside. Scraping up the remainder of the crushed spider with his talons he brought it to Dorn who backed away from it as though it might try to attack her again. He dropped the dried up mass of fibers and flesh on the ground in front of Dorn who poked at it gingerly with a large fork. "Put it on the fire. You'll soon get used to it, it makes a fine cake."
"A cake?" Dorn stuck the fork into a chunk of spider meat. Holding the fork as far from her as possible she thrust the mangled remains into the fire. The heady scent of the sizzling meat and burning hair rose from the fire with a dense acrid smoke. "Are you sure you can eat this?" she asked with a look of distaste.
"It is done. See, the color has changed. Quickly remove it before it burns." Aaron watched Dorn sniffing at the smoking meat. "Go on, try it, it won't bite."
"Well, it smells pleasant enough," she said picking at the spider meat with a small fork. "Yes, it's okay." She bit off another piece.
"Crisped spider meat has always been one of my favorites," said Aaron licking his lips and wishing there was enough spider meat for him too. "Today I will show you the surrounding lands and teach you about some of the things that are best avoided."
Dorn answered with a nod of her head, too busy eating the crisped spider to speak. She searched around for a cup. "Where is the water?"
"There is a pool over there and a larger one farther back for bathing."
"Thank you," Dorn said, strolling across the cavern to the pool. "Wow, this is really cold, and clean. We had to boil all our water at home." For a moment, Dorn was struck with grief at the thought of her parents. “Will it always feel like this?” She voiced her thoughts aloud.
"What is it, Dorn?" asked Aaron. He stepped closer, cupped her in his claws and he raised her up to his eye level. "Is it your kin?"
Dorn only nodded. She did not want to cry as she was quite happy there with Aaron, but the wound of losing her parents was still very raw. “I’m all right now, it just hurts to think of them."
Dorn looked at Aaron quizzically. "You have very pretty eyes," she said softly.
"Would you like to see the world around us?" Aaron asked, with a hint of excitement. Having Dorn around reminded Aaron of the family he too had lost. "Sit just behind my ear, there is a fold that will hold you snugly."
Dorn climbed up behind Aaron's ear slipping neatly into the recess.
"I'm in. Fits nicely too," she said patting his ear.
Aaron turned around, ducking beneath the hanging vines out into the warm morning air. Drawing himself up to his full height, he stretched out his wings, leapt onto the roof of the cavern, then with a single bound they were airborne. Soon they were flying low along the face of the Mountains.
"Have you ever seen the ocean, Dorn?"
"No, but my father did, when he went to Draymass for supplies one winter."
The wind rushed up over Aaron's head and swirled Dorn's hair into a tangled mass. Dorn screamed delightedly as they passed between two mountain peaks, plummeting toward the earth below. The forest came rushing up to meet them.
"This is Grimlaw, land of the small folk." Aaron smiled, dipping his wings to the right then the left, zigzagging his way lazily over the rich emerald green canopy of the forest. "The forest here is not unlike Learmont where I found you and caught that spider."
“What is that up ahead?" Many leagues to the west Dorn could see a dark cloud hanging ominously over a mountain, whose peak looked as though it had been torn off.
"That is The Great Cauldron. I know it better as the nest where I was hatched.”
Drawing in a deep breath, his belly expanding, Aaron gave a lazy flap of his wings and flew almost vertically back up the mountains. The rarefied air made Dorn shiver as its cold breath blasted her face. Aaron let his breath pass slowly out through his teeth, the drop in his internal pressure causing them to fall rapidly until he relaxed his wings and caught the wind in them like giant sails forming a brake.
Directly below them Dorn could see what she thought to be people hunting.
"What are those down there?" she called out.
"They are the cursed ones, outcasts of Oumtuk, who refused to believe in the ancient spirits. They fight among themselves for food and territory. There is not much worth fighting over on this side of the mountains. Few take the risk of climbing down to the ocean where there is a long, narrow shoreline with many caves. Many are injured or diseased when they come here. Oumtuk is maybe fifty leagues ahead."
Dorn watched the land of Oumtuk unfold as they swept up over the edge of the plateau, startling the anghoos guards. Aaron chuckled at the guards as they stood shaking their fists at him.
"What are those?" Dorn asked, her voice filled with wonder at a herd of woolly cattle who turned their flattened faces toward them. Aaron swung in low for a closer appraisal. The younger, healthier animals huddled together leaving the sick and the weak exposed to the danger from the skies.
"Those are bultars, most likely what we will have for supper. Over here are mammasaurs. These magnificent beasts are actually quite docile until roused. The centaurs hunt them for sport, but the anghoos value them for their hides. You see, an anghoos only kills for defense or food; they respect life, but the centaurs enjoy the kill."
"Can we get a closer look at the mammasaurs?" Dorn bounced excitedly in her seat.
Aaron tipped his wings and swooped down low until his belly touched the tall grass. Landing gently in front of the small herd of mammasaurs so he would not frighten them into a stampede, he very slowly turned to face them. A large bull shook its head at Aaron, its thick neck rippling with heavy muscles.
"Wow, they are huge. I've never seen anything that big before. Except you." Aaron's ear twitched as Dorn stroked the back of it.
"They are one of the largest animals in Alzear. Only the upland raptors are larger," Aaron replied as they watched the herd pass them by on either side, their thick skins hanging in folds down their legs and along their short necks. “The Mammasaurs have no teeth, just immense plates that they grind the grass between; those and a sticky tongue.” Their parrot-beaked mouths were the size of a barrel of ale. The soles of their toeless feet were almost a yard in diameter, with thick, crusty plates around the front edge for toenails. Aaron liked these animals and made a point of not eating them unless he had to, as their numbers were dwindling. Though the mammasaurs were twice the size of an elephant, they were barely shoulder high to Aaron.
"Now I'll show you some more."
Spreading his wings, Aaron lifted himself up into the air and chased the sun west towards Gamran Thorn. All across the land of Oumtuk the grasses swayed with the summer's breeze, a sure sign autumn was approaching. Dorn gasped, clamping a hand to her mouth as they slipped across the cliffs over the shimmering serpentine belt of Everstill River.
"This is where Oumtuk ends and the land of the trolls begins, Gamran Thorn."
"It looks so beautiful from here, the water looks so still," Dorn smiled, without a care in the world as she now had something she had never had before – a friend.
"At this point, the river is enchanted. Nothing can cross its surface without attunement. It was done to keep the horde from crossing into Meregith on the other side of that wall."
Aaron flew down closer to the ground, but out of the range of the archers stationed along the wall in case they got lucky and struck Dorn with a stray arrow.
"Why are there soldiers? Are they expecting trouble?"
"The creatures on this side are mainly trolls, but there are a few ogres and quite a number of wild beasts. To the north is the largest gather
ing of tattlejacks in Alzear. Peculiar creatures at the best of times."
Aaron continued his flight over Gamran Thorn, recounting the stories of the lands as they passed by unnoticed overhead. The afternoon had already begun to darken when the crossed the border back into Oumtuk, they were both hungry.
"I'll grab us some supper from the herd below," said Aaron, and dipping his nose toward the ground he swooped down, seizing an adult bultar from the back of the herd. Nearby centaurs hurled their spears at Aaron, considering the dragon fair game for the hunt. He grabbed the straggling bultar in the middle of its back with his left claw, lifting it effortlessly from the ground. Seizing the animal's head with his free foot, he gave the neck a sudden twist. The bultar would suffer no more. The centaurs chased after them for a while, as though they could actually be of any threat to Aaron. Only a fool would rouse the anger of a Dandril.
From where she was sitting behind Aaron's ear, Dorn could not see the bultar Aaron had caught for their supper. She only hoped Aaron had not chosen too large an animal, as she had no idea how she was going to prepare such a beast by herself.
"Tomorrow I will show you the lands to the south, beyond your home."
Aaron dropped the carcass of the bultar by the fireside before letting Dorn climb down. For a few moments, she stood next to Aaron's foot staring at the wounds in the dead animal's back.
"Do they come out like cat claws?" she asked, inspecting the cuticle on one of his toes. Aaron duly obliged by extending the talons on the foot where she was standing.
Dorn gasped, "They're huge!" Running her hand along the extended talon, she said, "I like the way the colors fade in together."
"Watch." Aaron placed his foot on the bultar and immediately the talons changed color to match the black-brown of the hide. Then he put a single talon on a fire rock and again it changed to match. "If I eat the right things, my whole body can change in the same way. It means that, should I wish to, I can travel unnoticed."
"What are those rings?" Dorn asked, noticing for the first time the bronze-green bands around two of his claws. "They look just like the one that I had to step in. The one that brought me to the mountains."
"You were portaled? I was unsure whether one of the Holy Order had brought you to the cleft in person. Arrborn did not tell anyone his entire plan, if indeed he had one." Aaron lay down, sighing. "I keep them for special occasions."
"Like what?"
Aaron's face sagged; it had been many years since he had spent any length of time with a human, and he had forgotten what their curiosity was. "In years gone by, I fought alongside dwarves and humans alike. In those days, the mages did not possess the skill required to power a portal, but the dragons did. So I carried with me these rings to places where people could not go so that our armies could get behind our enemies and surprise them." He could see by the look on Dorn's face his explanation was far from sufficient. "I'll tell you more over supper, I'm hungry."
He picked up the remains of the bultar carefully in his mouth in the same way that a cat would carry a mouse, and took it outside. With a deft twist of a talon, Aaron cut the bultar open along its belly, plucked out its innards and tossed them over the stone barricade. On the other side of the wall, a giant ringed vulture suddenly found faith in the gods. Aaron pinched the thigh on the bultar's leg, tearing it away before tossing the rest of the animal into his mouth. Aaron swung around venturing back into the cavern where he dropped the severed limb beside the fire for Dorn.
"How do I cook it, it's huge?" Dorn asked. Aaron speared the limb with a talon and, raising it to his mouth, he gently breathed fire onto it, roasting it to near perfection. "Thank you." Taking a knife from the side Dorn carved herself a chunk of the hot meat. "You know, I think the spider was better."
Aaron smiled at her. Despite the many years he had waited for the prophecy to be fulfilled, he had no desire to be a baby sitter, but it was something Arrborn was most insistent on. He was the only one who could really protect the mother and the child, when he came along. No one would know where Dorn was and were unlikely to find her on the wrong side of the Black Iron Mountains. Not many people were foolhardy enough to go wandering into a dragon's lair without an invitation.
Time passed swiftly on the mountains, and Dorn's time drew nearer. It was not unusual to hear the sounds of creatures fighting one another beyond the corral. The mountains were home to a wide variety of beasts as well as the accursed of Oumtuk. Occasionally a giant vulture would swoop down into the corral, drawn by the smell of Aaron's kills. Dorn had a strange fascination with these huge, ugly birds, as they showed no interest in her at all. She had approached them on several occasions when they had strayed too close to the lair, but none would dare to enter the cavern as the scent of a dragon was enough to ward off anything with a healthy respect for its own life. On one occasion Dorn succeeded in plucking a tail feather from one of the vultures, causing it to squawk and flap wildly, though it refused to be distracted from its free meal of tattered flesh and dried bones. Aaron watched from the shelter of the cavern, keeping an eye on the bird as he knew it to be capable of carrying Dorn off to its ragged roost.
As the time of the birth drew near, Aaron took to hunting alone, leaving Dorn in the safe confines of the corral. Mixed among the usual sounds of bloodshed and battle beyond the wall was the low rumble of thunder and the crackle of lightning. Curious, Dorn walked over to the nearest point to the sounds of the skirmish. It was obvious to her, whatever was out there, it was not about to give up and die. A dull grunt accompanied the crunching of bones and bodies slamming against rocks. The thunder and lightning drew nearer. Dorn searched the skies above, but they were as clear and crisp as any other day at the onset of winter. No, this sound was coming from the ground. She could feel the peals of thunder rumbling through the earth beneath her feet. There was a triumphant bellow then the land fell silent once more. Dorn could sense the victor had not left with its prize. What she could now hear was the distinctive sound of a labored struggle. Cautiously she backed away from the wall, scanning the skies again, this time for Aaron. What she saw instead was the bloodied face of an anghoos rising over the top of the corral. Dorn looked around for a suitable weapon to defend herself, but there were only sticks and dried bones. Grabbing a broken thighbone of a bultar, Dorn prepared to defend her home and unborn child. With a final grunt, the creature hauled itself over the top of the stone wall and slid down into the compound leaving a bloody trail down the rock face. The anghoos landed in an untidy heap at the base of the wall. It looked up at her, its huge brown eyes etched in pain.
Dorn, dropping the bone went, as quickly as she could into the cavern to fetch some cloth and water to tend the wounded creature. When she returned, the anghoos was sitting with its back against the wall, one hand pressed against a deep wound to its chest. Instinctively she dipped the cloth into the water and applied it to the wound.
"Thank you," the anghoos gasped through clenched teeth, the muscles in its jaw twitching.
"You are welcome." After wringing out the cloth, Dorn reapplied it to the anghoos's chest, pressing firmly in hope to stem the flow of blood. "What were you fighting? It sounded like thunder." She looked at the anghoos, smiling.
"It was a rock crawler, and quite a large one, then another of my own people." Shifting into a more upright position, he asked, "Where is your mate? You are obviously not alone." Touching her swollen belly with his hand, he froze.
"What is it?" She leant back to look at him, trying desperately to work out exactly what had frightened him, in case it was something she had inadvertently done. Aaron would be returning soon as he did not leave her for extended periods.
"You are the child of the prophecy!" For a moment, all thoughts of pain were swept aside. "My name is Thunderborn, and it would be an honor for me to serve you."
Dorn sat staring at Thunderborn, not sure what to do next. "I... I... yes. That would be good." She was beginning to feel this child was going to have a highly unusua
l family, when a shadow fell across the corral. "Ah, my friend has returned."
The carcass of a mammasaur landed with a heavy thud, sending up a cloud of dust from around it.
"What is this?" Aaron sniffed at Thunderborn, who stared back in terror at the rows of bloody teeth lining Aaron's mouth. "He must be moved inside."
"He is injured. Moving him will tear his wounds." Struggling to her feet Dorn stood between Thunderborn and Aaron with her hands folded across her swollen belly.
"His hide is as tough as the mammasaur. He will be easier to heal if he is laid inside the cavern." Dragging her feet Dorn shuffled aside. Reaching forward, Aaron closed his claw tenderly around Thunderborn as though he were picking a delicate blossom. Aaron carefully walked across the corral carrying his precious load into the lair, placing him gently beside the fire.
Lowering his head to the floor, Aaron said, "Dorn, there is a golden spot near the back of my eye; press it hard, take a tear from it and place it on his wounds."
Without questioning Dorn slid her hand along the moist edge of Aaron's eyelid. The golden spot was larger than her fist, round as a chameleon's eye, with a soft, waxy plug at its center. Dorn placed her hand over the plug and pushed hard. There was a wet, sticky crack as the wax gave way revealing a thick sparkling fluid on the inside. Placing one hand on either side of the spot Dorn squeezed out a sparkling tear. Scooping the tear in her hands, Dorn carried it over to Thunderborn and knelt carefully beside him. Opening her hands over Thunderborn's chest she let the liquid drop into his wound. It sparkled softly as it spread evenly through the injury. Then with a sizzle, the tear went about its miraculous healing.
Thunderborn winced, groaning softly. He eyed the grand dragon with cautious respect.
"I thought I was about to become your next meal," Thunderborn said as he attempted to sit up.
"The tear will only heal your injuries, not restore your strength." Raising his head, Aaron reached over Thunderborn and drank from the pool. Instinctively the anghoos attempted to swing himself out of Aaron's way. "This is Dorn, and I am Aaron, her guardian."
"I am Thunderborn, and I am grateful for your kindness," he said rubbing his chest.
"Of Rammar Bluff?" Aaron asked, reaching out with his tails to snatch the mammasaur from the mouth of the cavern where a large vulture was taking a keen interest in the kill. Wrapping both of his tails around the carcass, he drew it to his side.
"I was until a few moons ago when I joined the ranks of the accursed." Thunderborn looked around the cave. "Could I trouble you for some water?"
"I will fetch you some." Dorn plunged a pitcher into the cool water of the pool. Wiping the sweat from her brow the back of her hand she said, "Here you are," and handed the filled pitcher to Thunderborn.
"What happened? Were you not one of the elders?" Aaron moved his face closer to Thunderborn, then sniffing him, he nodded his head approvingly. "Your wound has healed."
"You seem to know much about me." Holding the empty pitcher against his chest Thunderborn looked at Aaron with a sideways glance.
"I have a keen interest in the social structure of all races." Dragging the mammasaur in one claw Aaron extended his talons to slicing it into more manageable pieces. "I have left the hide over there," he gestured toward the cavern entrance, "where the vultures will not get it. They will not set foot inside my lair. Are you able to fashion the hides into raiment? It will soon be needed to make clothing and covers for these two?"
"It would be my pleasure. A mammasaur's hide is the best thing to keep the bite of winter at bay." Thunderborn gave the empty pitcher to Dorn. "Far better than the water out there on the mountain."
"The cavern is fed by its own springs. This one is for drinking and the other is for washing." Aaron indicated where the pools could be found. "I will take the hide to Arrborn; he will have it tanned and made ready."
"At last it feels as though the One smiles upon me," Thunderborn sighed.
"You trust in the One! That would explain your presence on the mountains," said Aaron, rubbing his chin with the back of a claw. "The ancestral rites do not mix with the ways of the One." Aaron coughed, spitting a broken bone at the still lurking vulture. "If it fails to leave it will be tomorrow's supper."
Growling his displeasure, he returned his attention to Thunderborn as Dorn nestled herself at his side.
Thunderborn drew a long, deep breath. "Indeed they do not," he sighed, the smile fading from his face.
"I guess by your expression that you paid a heavy price?" queried Aaron tearing hunks of meat off the mammasaur and searing them with his breath before placing them in the fire.
"There was a time when I wholeheartedly believed in the ancestors that my father had taught me about when I was a calf. So many nights spent beneath the stars where he would tell me stories of how they were formed in the heavens. He would tell me of the ancient ones that roamed the grasslands, herding the massive beasts, calving the cows and tending their sick. Then one night, as I sat there gazing into the fire watching the sparks rise and dance above the flames, I heard something. At first I thought the ancestors were trying to communicate, but I was too young for them converse with me. Then the voice called my name. When I told my father, he warned me not to speak of it."
"I assume the voice called you again?" yawning, Aaron stretched out his neck.
"It did. The things it told me made sense. The more I listened, the more I came to understand that the ways of the ancestors were taught us to keep us in fear. If we strayed from the ancestors, we would not be counted among the stars. I was removed from the elders because of the lust of Great Tusk the tribal shaman." Blinking the tears from his eyes, Thunderborn drew a long, stammering breath. "I was cast from the tribe, to sojourn on the plains until I became worthy of the ancestors. In my absence, Great Tusk tried to force himself upon my mate, Merrydew. The voice of the One turned my feet toward home where I found the shaman in my home assaulting my wife and child. There was nothing I could do. Killing him would have been a greater shame on my family than being spurned by the ancestors.
Great Tusk told his tale to our chief. White Mane, who subsequently became too ill to pass judgment. In his silence, Great Tusk was the law." Thunderborn closed his eyes sighing deeply, a solitary tear rolled down his face moistening his lips.
"My child was cast into the fire. Then they bound and dragged my beloved Merrydew through the flames into my body. Her broken horn pierced my side, which has remained infected until this day. I, myself, ended her agonies. I placed my beloved in the flames of the same fire that had claimed my son. Great Tusk then tried to kill me in an effort to silence the truth, but it was not to be. I threw myself on the mercy of the One and chose to join the accursed rather than spend another day among my people without the ones I loved." Thunderborn let the tears flow freely from his large brown eyes.
Dorn hugged the sobbing anghoos, stretching her arms across his torso.
"I too am here by grace. I was defiled by a warlock, and once it became known that I carried his child I was forced to leave. That's how I met the One, in the cleft of the rock on the other side of the Dark Iron Mountains. The One promised he would send help as I needed it. First it was Griklag the dwarf, then Aaron and now you. Welcome to our family."