Part LXIV: The Elder Dragon
Date: Yippah 24th, 114 A.U.
The impact came softer than Flindle had imagined it to be. Instead of running into straight stone, the stone bent before him, the ivy covering the rock swishing from side to side as Flindle plunged into darkness. It began to dawn on him that the ivy must have been hiding some sort of entrance to a cave or cavern nestled deep within the mountain. And whatever was hiding in it, FLindle was sure to find out—if he survived that is.
Trying to steer it, Flindle finally leapt out from the plane, throwing himself through the glass of the side door at what he hoped was a rock face. It was. Flindle hit it, scrambling on it for dear life, and waited there for a moment, gasping as pain from both flying through the glass and hitting the wall caught up to him. Thanking the Mother Tree for his life, Flindle slowly clambered along the wall and then dropped down, careful not to hit the glass. He looked forward.
Ahead of him, there was an explosion as the plane hit what must have been the end of the tunnel, fire and debris flying everywhere as it illuminated the long descending tunnel that Flindle was in, and then a great cavern at the end, where the plane had exploded. There was a flash of reflection and, suddenly curious to what it could have been, Flindle moved forward. He ran down through the tunnel emerging into the chamber as the burning fragments of the exploded plane began to fade into the darkness. And then there was a rumbling growl.
Flindle leapt to the side as flames suddenly shot up, illuminating the chamber as the light reflected off of the heaps of gold, jewels, and other valuable vessels strewn about the chamber. And at the growling dragon that was slowly getting up, stretching itself out as it turned to gaze at Flindle as the darkness again set in.
Flindle moved to the side but the dragon was quicker. With a roar from his throat, flames again shot out, catching a piece of wood in the chamber to provide a more permanent light in the darkness. The dragon turned to stare at Flindle. The dragon was not the largest dragon as far as dragons went, at least, if the tales were to be believed. He wasn’t the smallest, but more in the middle, but with long streamlined wings and an agile body that turned as the dragon moved to focus in on Flindle. His ears were long and curled into long green-like whips that were up in the air before bending down behind him. Flindle had heard tales, stories of a dragon that lurked in the Great Forest, the Elder Dragon they had called him: the dragon who had stalked the forest from the beginning of the time. But the priests had declared all those stories to be rubbish and old wives’ tales. And so Flindle had believed it too. Until now.
Flindle hesitantly held out his corsha blade, to make it clear to the dragon that he wouldn’t be going down without a fight. The dragon bared its teeth and pawed at the ground, breathing fire down to cause the ground to crack and bubble, red light emitting from the ground as the dragon roared again at Flindle. He was going to have to do something to keep the dragon from incinerating him—and fast.
“I do not want to attack you—attack me do you not want to do,” Flindle said rapidly. “Friends we can be—friends against the elves as well. Peace between us—peace have we and I shall leave the chamber most rapidly!” The dragon bared its teeth menacingly.
Suddenly, Flindle moved to the side. There was a roar, and a cascade of flames hit the rock where he had been, causing the stones to glow. Skidding on coins, Flindle threw himself to the side, flipping over as he landed neatly on the dragon’s back, brandishing his sword as he prepared to stab the dragon with the burning corsha. Marks lined itself on the dragon’s neck—marks according to legend that dragon slayers had put on him when trying to kill him—proof of the dragon’s identity as the Elder Dragon.
But the Elder Dragon had different plans. Mounting on his haunches he sprang forth, moving around to try and shake him off. Grasping for anything, Flindle grabbed the closest thing he could to hang on, which happened to be the end of the dragon’s long ears. With a roar, the dragon suddenly took flight, flying forward up the tunnel as he shot flames out in front of him. Flindle gave a cry of surprise, moving the ears some as he quickly realized how he could direct the dragon’s movement by holding onto and moving the ends of the ears. There was a burst of flames in front of him, and then they flew through the flaming ivy back into the outside world.
The elves landed with firing going all around them as the winged elves threw the ropes over the side to let up their companions. Too late, Major Erklen was running toward the chaos, seeing everything crash in front of him as many of the goblins scattered before the elves as more began to climb up to join them.
“Forward! Cut them off! Take out their foothold!” Major Erklen yelled, but he could already see that it was going to be too late. The winged elves had made a wall all around where they had flung the ropes and were guarding it viciously, taking several hits from guns before they finally went down, replaced by more elves who had already gotten up the cliff.
Now the goblins were charging. Wielding their corsha weapons, they leapt at them, finally beginning to take away their foot hold from the cliff. Several gun shots went off behind him, and suddenly Major Erklen realized the point of all this: a distraction—that while they distracted them here, they would reign ruin behind them. It was all lost.
Major Erklen turned to see many of the goblin defenders shot down as he turned to look at the trees and at the elves sallying out. And then at the fiery explosion that took out the ground in front of them.
And then Major Erklen saw the Elder Dragon.
Date: Yippah 24th, 114 A.U.
The impact came softer than Flindle had imagined it to be. Instead of running into straight stone, the stone bent before him, the ivy covering the rock swishing from side to side as Flindle plunged into darkness. It began to dawn on him that the ivy must have been hiding some sort of entrance to a cave or cavern nestled deep within the mountain. And whatever was hiding in it, FLindle was sure to find out—if he survived that is.
Trying to steer it, Flindle finally leapt out from the plane, throwing himself through the glass of the side door at what he hoped was a rock face. It was. Flindle hit it, scrambling on it for dear life, and waited there for a moment, gasping as pain from both flying through the glass and hitting the wall caught up to him. Thanking the Mother Tree for his life, Flindle slowly clambered along the wall and then dropped down, careful not to hit the glass. He looked forward.
Ahead of him, there was an explosion as the plane hit what must have been the end of the tunnel, fire and debris flying everywhere as it illuminated the long descending tunnel that Flindle was in, and then a great cavern at the end, where the plane had exploded. There was a flash of reflection and, suddenly curious to what it could have been, Flindle moved forward. He ran down through the tunnel emerging into the chamber as the burning fragments of the exploded plane began to fade into the darkness. And then there was a rumbling growl.
Flindle leapt to the side as flames suddenly shot up, illuminating the chamber as the light reflected off of the heaps of gold, jewels, and other valuable vessels strewn about the chamber. And at the growling dragon that was slowly getting up, stretching itself out as it turned to gaze at Flindle as the darkness again set in.
Flindle moved to the side but the dragon was quicker. With a roar from his throat, flames again shot out, catching a piece of wood in the chamber to provide a more permanent light in the darkness. The dragon turned to stare at Flindle. The dragon was not the largest dragon as far as dragons went, at least, if the tales were to be believed. He wasn’t the smallest, but more in the middle, but with long streamlined wings and an agile body that turned as the dragon moved to focus in on Flindle. His ears were long and curled into long green-like whips that were up in the air before bending down behind him. Flindle had heard tales, stories of a dragon that lurked in the Great Forest, the Elder Dragon they had called him: the dragon who had stalked the forest from the beginning of the time. But the priests had declared all those stories to be rubbish and old wives’ tales. And so Flindle had believed it too. Until now.
Flindle hesitantly held out his corsha blade, to make it clear to the dragon that he wouldn’t be going down without a fight. The dragon bared its teeth and pawed at the ground, breathing fire down to cause the ground to crack and bubble, red light emitting from the ground as the dragon roared again at Flindle. He was going to have to do something to keep the dragon from incinerating him—and fast.
“I do not want to attack you—attack me do you not want to do,” Flindle said rapidly. “Friends we can be—friends against the elves as well. Peace between us—peace have we and I shall leave the chamber most rapidly!” The dragon bared its teeth menacingly.
Suddenly, Flindle moved to the side. There was a roar, and a cascade of flames hit the rock where he had been, causing the stones to glow. Skidding on coins, Flindle threw himself to the side, flipping over as he landed neatly on the dragon’s back, brandishing his sword as he prepared to stab the dragon with the burning corsha. Marks lined itself on the dragon’s neck—marks according to legend that dragon slayers had put on him when trying to kill him—proof of the dragon’s identity as the Elder Dragon.
But the Elder Dragon had different plans. Mounting on his haunches he sprang forth, moving around to try and shake him off. Grasping for anything, Flindle grabbed the closest thing he could to hang on, which happened to be the end of the dragon’s long ears. With a roar, the dragon suddenly took flight, flying forward up the tunnel as he shot flames out in front of him. Flindle gave a cry of surprise, moving the ears some as he quickly realized how he could direct the dragon’s movement by holding onto and moving the ends of the ears. There was a burst of flames in front of him, and then they flew through the flaming ivy back into the outside world.
The elves landed with firing going all around them as the winged elves threw the ropes over the side to let up their companions. Too late, Major Erklen was running toward the chaos, seeing everything crash in front of him as many of the goblins scattered before the elves as more began to climb up to join them.
“Forward! Cut them off! Take out their foothold!” Major Erklen yelled, but he could already see that it was going to be too late. The winged elves had made a wall all around where they had flung the ropes and were guarding it viciously, taking several hits from guns before they finally went down, replaced by more elves who had already gotten up the cliff.
Now the goblins were charging. Wielding their corsha weapons, they leapt at them, finally beginning to take away their foot hold from the cliff. Several gun shots went off behind him, and suddenly Major Erklen realized the point of all this: a distraction—that while they distracted them here, they would reign ruin behind them. It was all lost.
Major Erklen turned to see many of the goblin defenders shot down as he turned to look at the trees and at the elves sallying out. And then at the fiery explosion that took out the ground in front of them.
And then Major Erklen saw the Elder Dragon.
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