The Flames of Rage - an Enchantica story (novel) by Peter Van Mol

Chapter Three

Knowing the rumors and stories about gigantic dragons lurking in the lake's deep waters, Cray wondered how anybody dared to build any kind of building so near the shore ... until he noticed the tiny pont tied to the side of the ramshackle inn he was heading for: apparantly, the inn and the small pier were one and the same construction, enabling passagers to step from the common room to the pont without having to go out in the rain ... if that was necessairy.

The small village was nowhere near as calm as he'd expected, though, and the activity on the road leading away from the lake soon caught the warrior's eye. As Tabrah continued to bring them in lower and lower, Cray clearly saw an armored dwarf fighting two ragged humans, and a pink-and-grey dragon sneaking up on the dwarf from behind.

Still too far out to intervene or even alert the dwarf to the dragon's presence, the griffin's master could do little else but watch as the scene unfolded. As they closed the distance, he could see that the dragon was a young karnazauga - only a tad bigger than a pony - and that it seemed wounded. One of the dragon's wings dragged across the ground as it crawled towards the dwarf, whereas it could've taken him by surprise if it'd taken to the air.

The armored dwarf was definitely holding his own against his human assailants, and even managed to disarm one of them with a nasty chop of his axe to the man's right hand. If he didn't defeat his second opponent and turned to face the dragon, nothing else the dwarf did would make any difference, though.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind the inn, a glowing ball of green energy burst forward and struck the young karnazauga in the neck. Trying to throw off the strands of crackling lightning that snared it's throat, the beast trashed wildly, but failed to free itself of the magical spell. After a few seconds, the lightning had fully strangled the dragon, and its lifeless body sagged to the muddy ground.

Shocked by the ease with which their ace in the hole had been dispatched by the dwarf's unseen ally, the two attackers seemed to think it best to make a hasty retreat and ran for their horses. The armored dwarf looked content to let them escape, and - after a brief look to check if the dragon was truly dead - disappeared behind the inn as well, probably to find out how his ally was faring.

Believing it was always best to err on the side of caution, Cray steered his griffin around the inn before he allowed it to land and got a good look at the dwarf's companion. Also a dwarf, this one was definitely not a warrior, and seemed dressed in what once had been brilliant green robes. The second dwarf's lack of armor or obvious weaponry didn't make him any less of a challenge, however, as the two hoodlums who'd attacked his friend had discovered.

Judging by the exhausted look on the wizard dwarf's face, the spell that'd dispatched the dragon had brought him right to the limits of his abilities - which only added to Cray's surprise. Given that he was no expert on wizardry - or even dwarf lore for that matter - the young warrior still remembered learning that dwarves selden got involved in magic. On the other hand, a fully skilled wizard shoudn't have been taxed so heavily by what'd seemed to be a simple combat-spell.
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Apparantly satisfied that his friend had weathered his spellcasting quite well, the armored dwarf took up a defensive position as soon as Tabrah came in to land. Cray held out both arms, away from his body and the weapons strapped to the griffin's flank, to show them he didn't mean them harm.

Flapping its wings vigorously to slow itself down, Tabrah swept up a huge cloud of dust before he even put one foot down, and forced the dwarves to turn away in order to shield their eyes. This move was but one of the many rider and mount had adopted as a precautionairy measure to give them an edge against would-be attackers, and as Cray had not instructed the griffin to do otherwise, the animal had surmised that this tactic suited the situation.

Coughing and wheezing, the armored dwarf stepped through the settling whirls of dust and held out his hand to Cray. Unsure of the other's intentions, the human hesitated for a second, but decided to take the risk. Trying to bend down without making the move look condescending, he took the dwarf's hand and pumped it twice before releasing it.

"You're cautious." the dwarf said, brushing some sand out of his long, braided beard, "I like that in an ally." Seeing that Cray didn't grasp the full implication of his words, the second dwarf joined his friend and nodded. "We're the ones you're supposed to meet." he explained, and indicated that he wanted the warrior to follow him into the inn. "The Lord Orolan told us who you are and that you were riding a griffin." he continued, "I suppose, from the surprised look in your eyes, that he failed to give you a similar description of the two of us, right ?"

"I'm afraid so." Cray finally replied, "All he told me, was that I was to meet with some allies in the Inn of Olsecc. He didn't even give me your names, or tell me you were dwarves." Making his way to a table in the corner of the inn's single room, the wizard dwarf plopped himself down on the crudely built bench, and sighed. "We'll have to remedy this oversight." he smiled, making his pale gray eyes glint in an odd way that Cray immediately associated with the look of magic, "My name is Virr, and that impetuous soldier over there is Greiss." Indicating his partner who'd stayed back to order some ale for the three of them, Virr added, "He doesn't talk much, and he's still young enough to charge into battle unprepared, but he's a good fighter. My brother, his father, is quite proud of him and believes he'll make a worthy soldier someday."

"From what the Lord of Summer told me," Cray wondered, "he wanted to keep this whole business as secret as possible. I thought that implied he would not have informed the other Lords of the Seasons, but you are clearly a wizard of Spring." Accepting the mug of beer Greiss handed him, Virr blew the excess foam from the top and waited untill the innkeeper had passed the table on his way to the kitchen. "I'm not exactly a full-fledged wizard," he whispered in a conspiratorial manner, "but rather something of an apprentice. We dwarves don't take well to the sort of studies needed to become a high wizard, and Perslane - the Lord Fantazar's main ambassador - proposed that I went out into the world to learn some discipline first."

Slamming his own mug down with a bang that might have shattered it, Greiss supplied his own opinion about Perslane's suggestion, but Cray wasn't sure if he'd completely understood the meaning of the dwarven insult. "Be that as it may." Virr admonished his younger companion, "The Lord of Summer approached me to offer me a chance to get some experience under my belt, and told me about the danger that threatens our existance."
"I don't mean to offend either of you," Cray hissed, "but I had expected to find more allies than just the two of you here." Draining his own mug of beer in a single gulp - much to the approval of Greiss - he wiped the foam from his lips, and lowered his head into his hands. "If we are all that stands between a renegade wizard whose power is strong enough to frighten even the Lord of Summer, I hope your talent for learning as you go certainly outweighs Perslane's expectations. If it doesn't, this enemy we're about to face is going to feed us to whatever creations he's conjuring up in that mountain fortress of his."

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