The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 10.1: Dwarves and Dragons

The next afternoon Gellan Ware’s team arrived at the edge of the Fyrken swamp. Cicadas greeted them with an ominous symphony from the swamp’s depths. Squat cypress trees loomed over them; moss dripped in long green strands from the tangled branches, the tips gently floating on the murky surface. A faint tang of salt hung in the air, rising from the brackish water. The swamp’s dim, gloomy aspect forbade any delusions of an easy path through its muck.

Without a word, Bodelic strode confidently forward, his staff in hand once more. He jammed the staff’s silver shod heel in the soft earth at the water’s edge and softly began to hum. As Cal looked into the muddy brown waters, he saw a faint phosphorescent glow outlining what looked to be a path zigzagging through the swamp.

Bodelic strode into the waters with his staff held high, the crystal at the tip faintly glowing in the bright afternoon light. He turned to his companions with a stern glare, “Do not stray from the path, lest you are sucked under the waters.”

The firm footing beneath his feet shocked Cal as he waded into the water. The dwarves had apparently built an underwater stone causeway through the Fyrken swamp. The engineering skill required to construct this road impressed Cal beyond words.

A general could win triumphs beyond Jayati’s wildest dreams—if he could bring such capabilities into the field. Why do the dwarves cower beneath the mountains when they have such power at their command?

As the company sloshed their way through the swamp, the cicada chorus fell silent, leaving the gentle croaking of toads and the tap tap tap from woodpeckers boring out rotted tree trunks to bewitch their ears. Flies and mosquitoes clouded in swarms about them, eager to feast on the fresh meat that had entered their domain.

The swamp has protected the dwarves from human retribution. Leading knights through these wetlands would be a logistical nightmare.

As evening drew near, innumerable tiny flashes flared just above the waters. The pattern was almost mesmerizing in its bright beauty: little flecks of phosphorescence that seemed to gather and swirl in the breeze. Alarmed, Bodelic hurriedly pulled out hollow reeds from his pack and passed them to his bemused companions. The dwarf stopped their progress and held up his hand for silence.

Styrian’s whisper carried his youthful contempt across the stillness, “’Tis nothing but fireflies.”

Before the dwarf could make any answer, birds hurtled past the party in disordered bunches: squawking distress calls as they flew. Squirrels chattered in the trees, hopping from branch to branch. A few ducked into knots in the cypress trunks, while others burrowed under the columnar roots. Finally, clouds of insects flew in heedless swarms past the company before a glowing wave of lights.

“DOWN!!!” shrieked the dwarf, sticking a reed between his thick lips and plunging his head beneath the murky green water.

Mesmerized by the spectacle before him, Cal ignored the dwarf’s command as, one by one, his companions leisurely followed the dwarf’s lead. Apparently, the guardsmen doubted there was any true danger, but were unwilling to ignore Bodelic on his home ground.

As the flashing wave approached, Cal could make out dim winged shapes with leathery wings: little flying reptiles instead of the glowing insects he expected. When a weary cypress tree burst into flames, not more than four paces away, Cal realized the tiny creatures were shooting fire from their mouths.

Cal hurriedly attempted to stick his reed between his lips, but his frantic fingers slipped and the stalk fell onto the swamp’s roiling surface. He groped for it desperately, sending the reed floating away from him. He secured it in his hand as the reptile horde maliciously zeroed in on him. Just in time, he dove under the brackish water.

As the waters closed over his head, Cal heard the swarm hit the surface like hail. Apparently, the ravenous creatures were eager to find the prey that had barely escaped their clutches. For excruciating long moments, their tiny claws churned the water above him as they floated on the surface, as if they were tiny carnivorous waterfowl. Finally, the seething water stilled, but Cal was so spooked from the encounter that he dreaded emerging from the secure water.

Bodelic’s stubby fingers eventually pulled Cal out of the swamp. In a shaky voice, a dripping wet Styrian demanded, “What were those things?”

“Dragonflies,” answered the dwarf in a matter-of-fact tone.

When the men shot bewildered stares at Bodelic, the dwarf explained, “Perhaps the word does not translate. Those creatures are dragon hatchlings, just emerged from the egg. Fortunately, only one out of many thousands ever grows to become dragons.”

“Do dragons really collect gold?” inquired Styrian, his face lit with youthful eagerness to know the true ways of a legendary creature.

“Yes,” replied the dwarf. “Some Shepherds believe that dragons need gold to form eggshells for their young, while others hold that golden granules flow through their veins. No one knows. But, we do know dragons will collect gold with a frenzy beyond reason, in amounts transcending any practical need. Even hatchling swarms behave this way.”

Aubert smirked, “Those creatures are not very different from us. I, also, intend to die upon a bed of gold!”

The entire group laughed.

“Gods preserve us!” blurted Fardinanth, muddy swamp water dripping down his full red beard as he gazed fearfully into the night sky. “If those are hatchlings, I don’ want ta meet a full-grown dragon.”

“Do not worry, Fardinanth. Dragons do not hunt these lands because there are far too many trees in which their prey can hide. We will only come under their shadow when we reach the foot of the mountains.”

The dwarf’s words provided the company with little comfort, surrounded by the destruction left by the dragon-fly swarm. Charred tree trunks filled the air with smoke. A few still glowed with flame. The scent of cooked meat hung in the air; meanwhile, carcasses from unlucky birds and squirrels floated nearby: the meat stripped from their bones leaving behind skin, fur and feathers to drift on the water.

No wonder dwarves huddle beneath the earth! Would even Jayati have the courage to peek out his gates if death hunted from above?

Bodelic remarked, “Now, perhaps, you understand my peoples’ need for elenium.”

“We gain nothing by gawking at carnage,” interrupted Gellan Ware. “Let us move on.”