Final part! Wow, this story got quite a bit longer than I had
originally intended, introduced more characters than I expected,
spawned more plotlines than I had planned, and seems to have given
some really cool ideas to a few folk. Thank you to all for reading
and enjoying the tale. Big thanks to Amiga for is typo report on
each section. And big thanks to Hallan and Christof for being my
beta readers. You guys really helped me keep in focus.
Healing Wounds in Arabarb
By Charles Matthias
April 30, CR 708
"That's it!" Pharcellus shouted as he reclined in the meadow south of
Fjellvidden. Numerous children had gathered and were climbing on his
back and tail, as well as over his paws and marveling at the size of
his claws. In just two weeks since Calephas's death so many families
had come out of hiding to return to the city that stood at Arabarb's
center and was now free. There were a few mothers who watched their
children anxiously as they played with the large dragon, but
Pharcellus was gentle and enjoyed delighting them, just as he had
done once for Lhindesaeg and Andrig.
But most of his attention was on his brother Lindsey as he learned to
use his wings and body to conquer the air. The small gray-scale
swooped across the field with his wings spread wide, eyes bright as
he kept aloft and managed to bank in slow circles. He was still a
little clumsy with getting into the sky, and while his landings were
definitely improving they still made Pharcellus wince. But over all
Lindsey took to dragonhood very well.
"Now tilt your head first and the rest of your body will follow as
you turn," Pharcellus boomed as he watched Lindsey struggle to
tighten his circles. "And don't turn in the same direction for too
long. You will get dizzy!"
Above him Lindsey laughed and twisted his neck in the opposite
direction. Muscle by muscle the rest of his body swiveled about until
he began making figure-eights in the sky. "How's that?" Lindsey
shouted back with a brief gust of flame from his snout.
"Excellent!" Pharcellus called back with real joy. How he longed to
be up there in the sky with him, but his wing still needed another
two weeks to heal. The local healers along with the wood mage Harald,
after tending to the many wounded and killed in the battle two weeks
past had turned to dragon and asked him rather politely what he would
need to mend the tear in his wing. The broth of herbs he'd instructed
them to prepare had taken a little while, especially since they had
to make a couple gallons of it and not just a bowl as they were used
to, but it had soothed the tenderness of his flesh and lifted the
specter of pain that had clung to him ever since his horrible landing
through the trees. The other cuts he'd suffered, even those given him
by Gmork, had all healed and only a few scars remained to show where
they'd once been. When his scales molted next, even those would be gone.
He ought probably tell Lindsey that molting came much more frequently
to young dragons, just one more reason they rarely ventured from
their mountain homes until they had gained their first maturity. A
rumbling laugh echoed in his chest as he thought on his little
brother facing that humbling ordeal for the first time.
From behind him he could smell a familiar pair approaching. They had
just come out of the city gates and their heads were tilted up to the
sky to watch the young dragon stretch his wings. "How is he doing?"
Alfwig asked. His beard was in a proper braid again, and his scraggly
hair tamed. He still wore the same suit of mail and surcoat that the
Lutin had saved for him. Beside him Elizabaeg approached, dressed in
more feminine garb, but even she had a sword still.
The walls of Fjellvidden had been repaired quickly, and the gaping
hole in the castle wall as nearly sealed, though until they could
gain control of a quarry the work would have to be done by stealing
from stone elsewhere. They could all hear the sounds of soldiers
training inside the city walls with bow, axe, sword, and spear.
Gerhard, Jarl, and the other commanders were readying for their first
sally to free the ports downstream that they might have complete
control over the Arabas. And when they left, Alfwig and Elizabaeg
would go with them.
Not a single human could rest in Arabarb until all of the land was
free. The armor and the swords were proof of that.
Still, it was reassuring to have them visit frequently every day to
check up on their dragon son. Pharcellus opened his snout in a smile
and said, "He is doing much better than I did at his age, but don't
tell him I said so."
"I heard that!" Lindsey shouted down to him as he swept over head.
"No you didn't!" Pharcellus shouted back.
Lindsey laughed and swept on across the field, beating with his wings
in exuberant joy. Pharcellus laughed with him and then turned back to
the two humans he'd always seen as a sort of extra father and mother.
"How long before the first sally?"
"A few days maybe," Alfwig relied. "The dogs are out spying for us
and should be back soon. We've enough men now to defend the city
against a force twice what Calephas kept here. But it will be such a
long time before we can truly go home."
Pharcellus cast a quick glance toward the middle of the meadow where
in the midst tall grasses that hid his beastly features sat Jerome.
The Sondecki spent most of his days in meditation saying nothing at
all to anyone except Lindsey from whom he accepted food and
companionship. He never spoke of Gmork and thankfully they never
heard word of that monster from anyone else either. But to
Pharcellus's surprise, Jerome wasn't meditating just then. Instead,
he tilted back his head, wolf ears laying flat against his skull, and
watched with wide-eyed wonder at Lindsey as the young dragon banked
and swirled through the air.
"When we can," Pharcellus said, "I know we will be back to help."
Alfwig lifted a hand and Elizabaeg joined him in shaking her head.
"You don't need to promise, Pharcellus. I know you both will. Thank
you for being a brother to our son. We aren't afraid for him anymore."
Pharcellus craned his neck and looked at Lindsey. How different he
now was from when they started this journey together almost a month
ago. Was there anything but joy in his draconic countenance? He
rumbled and sighed happily, glancing once at a pair of children who
were measuring one of his toe claws with their hands and failing to
encompass it, before turning back to Alfwig and Elizabaeg. "I'm not
afraid for him anymore either."
Lindsey swooped down toward them, and then frantically beat this
wings to keep from crashing into the ground or into his parents. At
the last second he managed to stumble to a stop, planting his chest
and neck against the ground with a whump. He rose up onto all fours
and stretched himself out with a gasp.
Pharcellus's eyes narrowed in whimsy as Eizabaeg rushed forward to
see if her son had injured himself. "Well," he added to Alfwig who
stood by shaking his head and laughing, "maybe his landings I'm still
afraid of."
----------
Dark greens suffused the forest, thick with cobwebs, mushrooms, and
drenched in moss that clung to the base of each tree that struggled
to reach for the light that set so quickly even in the summer months.
Ivy tangled the limbs and each tree nestled close together, their
faces knotted and twisted as they competed one with another for every
mote of ground, trickle of water, and shaft of light.
Through this constricted wood loped four creatures. Three of them
were wolves, while the fourth was clearly more a man, though his
limbs were sufficiently lupine that he was able to maintain the same
pace. This one's ears were pointed and covered in a soft tan fur,
which stretched down in a thin line along his spine which erupted in
a short tail. The rest of his chest was still human and mostly white
from a life lived away from the sun. His face was distended in as
light snout, with dark nose and riveting blue eyes that had banished
all white. A long red tongue poked from between cleft lips as he panted.
The alpha wolf, of gray fur peppered with black, came to a stop in a
grove of stone coated in lichen and crawling with fungi. He tilted
back his head and howled. The others joined him.
After his long bay, he stood on his hind legs, his chest and arms
swelling to human proportions, even if his head remained beastly in
guise. The others shifted in the same way, as into the darkened
sepulchral grove walked a tall woman with long black hair, white
skin, dressed in black jerkin, tunic, leggings and boots suited to a
woodsman, though of a quality beyond their means. Her eyes were lost
in the shadows of her face, but the peppered wolf now standing like a
man knew they were as black as her hair.
"Mother," he said with a bow of his head. "It is good to see you again."
"Gmork," she said through thin lips with an amused sigh, "I see you
have a new body again. Did things not work so well for you in Arabarb
as you thought?"
"I made a mistake that cost me one of my pups, Mother; another has
become a prodigal, but I hope he will return in time." The one who
was mostly still human pressed close to him, blue eyes wide in fright
as he stared at the woman. Gmork ran a comforting paw down his
youngest pup's back. "Your traitorous servant Calephas is dead."
"That one only served himself, and now he will suffer the same fate
that all who serve only themselves do." The woman looked over his
pups quickly and then returned her gaze to Gmork and her hands folded
before her atop a sword he hadn't seen a moment ago. "And you know I
do not like it when you call me 'Mother', Gmork."
He smiled his jowls and bowed his head. "It is how I think of you. It
is how I show my gratitude for all that you have given me."
This did not move her. "If you wish to be grateful, Gmork, use my name."
Gmork allowed his smile to reveal all of his fangs. "As you wish, my
Lady Lilith!"
----------
May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,
Charles Matthias
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