Night... It probably will be odd to describe the precious of this time of the day. Especially marvelous it was in the dense thickets of Loriel's forest: at this dark time, thousands of tiny glowworms flattered among tough gigantic trees, pouring their dim light on the dark corners of the mighty forest. That night was sleepless for Loriel: the whole city, all of its citizens celebrated the long-expected return of the Keeper of the Good. Very few remembered the day when Loriel had ever shown so brightly: every house of that precious city was illuminated with the flattering of thousands of candles, lit in the honor of the Gods, who brought salvation upon Uniearth, which made the thick darkness of that warm summer night fade. But there was no place for our heroes among that flamboyant carnival: they were up to cover a long and responsible journey, full of mystery of the cursed Hengerd's army. Having packed all necessary things and had an enjoyable snack before the long way, Esrael and the dragon, accompanied by prince Luminel, finally reached the forest's fringe. Their lungs and heads were instantly captured by the freshness of mighty steppe winds, which filled every cell of their bodies with vital breathing of Streebog. Having waited till heroes get ready for the flight, Luminel gazed at the horizon and uttered:
—When the bright Pelyin star flatters in the sky — follow its glow. Gods tell that night will dominate over the day, so sleep during the day and fly at night.
Don't lose your way for the other one might become your doom. Fly through clouds, storms and winds, fly through any trouble you face. May the Zeus be with you!
—What are you planning to do in our absence, great prince?—Esrael asked. —I am going to gather the forces for the last battle. Eagles have brought good news: Grishnak and Ulther are moving their platoons to us. I hear the ground shaking of their steps and movement of Ulther's steam tanks. Only Pendragon, unfortunately, hasn't given any sign yet. But I hear other news. The enemy has gathered his hoards and is moving from the north. Black clouds have appeared over that place. You must hurry.
—But how are we going to determine that star?—Esrael wondered.
—Zeus will lead your way,—Luminel replied. At that moment a giant, tricky star enlightened on the dark star carpet and it illuminated broad plains and forests with its dazzling light, worthy of thousands of suns. When the light had poured on the mountains of Ruthram, Luminel commanded:—That's the sign, my friends, — the time has come! Fly! Fly like a wind! Good luck!
—Wait for us!—the dragon, having waited for Esrael, said.—We will come back soon. I promise.
With these words the dragon zoomed into the sky, rapidly vanishing in the bright carpet of infinite star canvas. Luminel glanced at the two heroes disappearing in the darkness, dropped his eyes for a moment, wavered his dark-green hood and vanished in the dark Loriel forest's thicket. And our heroes, following the glowing light of the Pelyin star, flew towards the unexpected, dodging fluffy clouds-pillows, which were shielding the pale companion of the sun.
Seconds turned into minutes, minutes — into hours, while our heroes still tirelessly followed their way towards the devoted Earth's satellite. Loriel had already vanished behind infinite green plains, and now only silent black hills, illuminated with seldom patterns of moonlight, met our heroes with dead silence and the lullabying rustle of green fields. Rushing through the ranges of curly clouds, two bold travelers tirelessly followed their reliable and devoted guide — brightly sparkling Pelyin star. But no matter how thoroughly our heroes desired to reach the destination as fast as they could and organize rendezvous with the Elberian cave, tiredness dictated its terms: in the morning, when Gelios poured his shining upon vast golden hills, Esrael and the dragon decided to have a long-awaited rest. Having landed near a lonely rock, left after mighty Karailian ice sliding, the dragon let Esrael jump off and, having looked around, concluded:
—We'll have a rest here. We still have a long way to cover. Gather some wood and set up a fire. And I'm going to get something for a snack.
—Deal,—Esrael agreed and started searching for wood. It was clear to him that there's not much wood to be found in steppes, so he was meticulously looking for the thing these places were rich with — simple dry cane. Being mostly an urban citizen, our hero, however, was pretty familiar with survival skills in the wild. He had been taught those necessary abilities in the army: building a branched cover to shield from heavy rain, setting up a fire in a minute to warm up during a severe snow blizzard — all those things had to be known by every His Majesty's soldier. They were ordered to make their way through freezing Eldoturian water fully equipped, march under the blazing sun, fight in the pouring rain. All these aspects of training made Pendragon's warriors valuable both for regular military service and hired troops. Having finished gathering cane, Esrael headed back to the resting place. His scaly friend had already been waiting for him and was cutting freshly-caught kayot. Having grinned gently, Esrael dropped the cane on the ground and admirably addressed:
—That was fast! No hunter could have done so!
—I appreciate your compliment,—the dragon, having skinned the corpse, grinned.—I think it was busy hunting a lemming or a badger, so this innocent dupe was completely unaware of what was happening around. I just had to choose the right time to attack. I bit his neck, and that's it — the dinner is ready.
—I offer you my sincere admiration,—Esrael grinned.—That was the fastest hunt I've ever seen.
—Well, glad to hear that,—the dragon smiled.—I think, we need to set up a fire. Can you handle that?
—Yes, sure,—Esrael replied and turned to the well-shaped campfire. Having taken two pieces of silicon, our hero determinedly started scratching two stones, trying to strike a sparkle.—I wish you were a fire dragon. In that case, we would have already been sitting near a warm fire.
—Well, my abilities aren't almighty, are they?—the dragon, having sat right before Esrael, laughed. —If I did everything, your life would be pretty boring. —I guess you're right, mate,—the young man grinned and continued scratching the stones with great determination. Finally, the wood got inflamed by tiny sparkles and in a second, fed by the rapid wind, the campfire burst into orange flames, like a bright glowworm amid thick darkness of night, sewed of black Ariadna's threads. Having excitedly rubbed his hands, Esrael smiled and asked the startled dragon:—Amazing, isn't it?
—That was the best fire performance I've ever seen,—the dragon laughed. Esrael enthusiastically followed his winged mate's reaction.
—Well, if so,—the young man cut a piece of roasted kayot's flesh and pierced it with his sharp mithril sword,—let's not waste time, shall we? It's gonna' be ready in a minute.
—A very original way to roast meat I should say,—the dragon, having grabbed raw flesh of the killed prey, uttered.—But I prefer the fresh one. I should observe the traditions of my ancestors, shouldn't I?
—It can't be denied,—Esrael agreed and, having instantly remembered something important, changed the topic of the conversation:—Speaking of, you've never told me your name. I'm feeling ashamed: you call me Esrael, when I call you "scalyhead". My conscience pricks me. Please, reveal the mystery of your name, will you?
Esrael didn't expect at all that his question would puzzle the dragon. His scaly mate got confused, dropped his eyes and got deadly silent, desperately trying to continue the heart-to-heart conversation.
—Well... Hmm...—the dragon, having scratched back of his head, slowly, unwillingly lengthened.—You know, Esrael, there's a bit of a problem...
Ahem... I just simply don't know my true name.
—What?!—Esrael surprisingly wondered.—How's that even possible?
—You see,—the dragon explained,—all my childhood I worked as an apprentice to a forger. My name didn't really bother him, so everything I heard from him was: "Hey, you! Bring that grindstone to me!" or "Oh, you clumsy bastard,—you've forgotten to blow up the fire again! You're gonna' pay for this, dumbass!" It's really sad, of course, to realize that nobody ever treated you kindly, addressed you by name. I've never seen my relatives: neither father nor mother nor even brothers. If I had one ever... Anyway, that's how I spent my childhood — in complete ignorance and fear of the forger,—the dragon laughed. Esrael followed his reaction.
—You didn't spend all your life in the forgery, did you?—our hero asked, having lain on a lonely stone nearby.
—No, no, of course I didn't,—the dragon grinned.—When I turned three hundred years, I applied to university. I know, it sounds pretty strange: dragon's university! What nonsense! But that was true: we had our own education system. Although it was different from all others, for instance, the dwarven one or the orc one, nevertheless they all have something in common. I graduated as a politician, but, unfortunately, due to some aggravating circumstances, I failed to get any job: every time I got refuse from the burgomaster because the king didn't want to see drags from the town. And now my education is useless: nobody cares about it. However, I achieved my goal: I became a kind of a diplomat, but a lot more valuable and demanded one.
—You're Zeunsdamn right,—Esrael, having looked into the pure daytime sky, agreed.—It's really hard to realize that everything we have ever done will be inconsequential.
—Not exactly,—the dragon objected.—When destiny gets us out of the line and does everything not to let us get back, probably it wants us to choose the other, more successful way, where luck is waiting for us. The only thing we are left to do is to obey and simply follow its steps,—with these words the dragon sighed and looked at the horizon. Luminel had his point: the sun was slowly sinking in the infinite sea of green plains, freeing the way for its white shining friend.—The prince was right: the day was very short. The faster we set out, the sooner we will reach the Elberian cave,—having hastily come on his paws, the dragon extinguished the campfire with his ice breath and, having spread his wings, addressed to Esrael:—Time to go — get on!
The young man didn't make the dragon wait for long: having grabbed all his stuff, Esrael sat on the dragon's back, and our bold heroes, having left cozy resting place, continued their way to the cave, flying towards the awoken sister of the Sun. Hours and minutes started whirling again, and again our heroes witnessed caravans of clouds, fluffy veins of which were full of rapid streams of rainwater. Rivers, plains, giant flocks of rocks twinkled beneath, staring at the sky carpet, festooned with hundreds of flashing stars. At last, when the morning light of Heloise's chariot started pouring on the picturesque hills and fields of long-forgotten lands, a large mountain revealed before our heroes' eyes, which seemed to them an enormous city rather than a marvel of nature. A black hole dwelled in the bottom of that mysterious place, which probably was an entrance to the Elberian cave.
—It seems we've finally found the place,—the dragon addressed to Esrael, slowly landing,—haven't we?
—I don't think there's anything alike nearby,—his friend replied, observing fascinating rocks-facades of the impeccable mountain range.—This is the place.
—Should we land?—the dragon asked.
—Yes, let's,—Esrael, having nestled closer to the dragon's back, agreed.— But please, be ca-a-areful!—a startled scream burst out of our hero's gullet, and his trembling arms embraced the dragon's neck, who rapidly dived down in the direction of the cave, like an eagle. Chilling stream of air, which desperately tried to blow startled rider away, obeying Stribog's will, pierced Esrael's face with burning freezing needles. Esrael couldn't think about anything else — fear overwhelmed him, ordered him to jump off to end that horrifying flight. But, luckily, the influence of his brain was much more powerful. In a matter of seconds our heroes, slightly touching tickling grass tips, softly landed just in front of the entrance to the cave.
The dwelling darkness, which was blocking the way, exhaled strange and terrifying freeze. The silent facades of that natural creation looked like arches of a crypt, which had been a large brethren tomb for the untamed Zeus's creations for many years. Shreds of mountain rocks, followed by broad grassy furrows, were scattered everywhere. Probably, these prints were left there many years ago after great battles or desperate attempts of coming to power and universal might. Our heroes were petrified and couldn't take their eyes off the terrifying darkness, which had occupied those longforgotten lands. Nevertheless, the dragon managed to pocket his fear and, having folded the mighty wings and silently said: "Let's go!",—shabbily entered the viscous darkness of the stone-covered path. Without any knowledge about the end of the road, the dragon felt as if he was slowly wandering into infinity, as if there was no end and Hades himself with the help of Phobos and Deimos decided to play on their nerves. The dead silence increased tension around two wanderers — only rare water-dripping sounds echoed through the darkness of the enormous path. The farther our heroes distanced from safe daylight, the fewer and fewer Gelios could intrude into those cursed surroundings. That abyss of terror was dominated by two of Phobos's devoted companions — Darkness and Silence. Those two sisters bred thick layers of fear in Esrael's and the dragon's souls, faster and faster spinning their dark treadle wheels.
—Listen, mate,—Esrael asked shabbily,—can you see anything?
—I see everything,—the dragon replied, confidently stepping on the rocky surface of the cave.—Hold my tale.
—Alright,—Esrael murmured and, having found his scaly friend's tale, continued his way.—Would you kindly tell me, when we're there, alright? —Sure,—the dragon grinned.—Although, probably, it's more simple to leave you here.
—Go to Tartarus, toothy head!—Esrael irritatedly reacted to the dragon's laugh.—Your jokes are not suitable for the situation we're in right now. —I just want to clear the air,—the dragon calmed his friend down, continuing his way through the path.
—Your attempts are pathetic,—Esrael said.
—Nuff said,—the dragon agreed.—Gilroy's ones were... Holy-moly!—to Esrael's surprise his tailed companion's voice unexpectedly interrupted. Having bumped into his scaly guide's back, our hero asked with fuming curiosity:
—Hey, toothy head, what's the matter? I'm fed up with your stupid jokes, you know!
—Amazing...—the dragon murmured, paying no attention to Esrael's words. Having suspected something, the young man cautiously peered from behind the dragon's back and silently asked:
—Are we done?
—It seems so,—the dragon replied happily and pulled a liver nearby. At that moment every dark corner of the cave illuminated with bright yellow light diamonds, and Esrael finally saw an enormous hall, which was crowded with giant immobile stone golems, submerged into a deep sleep. They seemed gigantic statues, which hung their stone heads and massive boulder-arms low. Their rows seemed endless, disappearing in the dense depth of the cave. Thousands of indestructible stone giants, surrounded by the oppressive silence, coldly greeted two lone wanderers.
—Here it is — the legendary Hengerd's army!—the dragon, observing the cursed platoons, tremblingly murmured.—Can you imagine? We're the first of this age to ever see them.
—Nobody would have ever believed me at home,—Esrael laughed, observing spacious hall-crypt.—But how are we gonna' wake these lads up? Neither the librarian nor the druid told anything about that.
—I suspect we have missed something,—the dragon, examining each hole of that long-forgotten place, thoughtfully decided.—I don't know, maybe there's a door or a lever around?
—Hey! I have an idea!—Esrael's thoughts cleared.— Do you see that door at the end of the hall?
The dragon glanced at the area, pointed by his friend. Evidently, he barely saw a rotten oaken door, hung on rusted door hinges.
—I can,—the dragon confirmed.—Interesting...
—It may be an entrance to somewhere. Should we check it out?
—Good thinking,—the dragon replied, having spread his wings.—I'll handle that, while you stay here. If anything bad happens, get out here as fast as you can, clear?
—Indeed,—Esrael nodded, continuing exciting examination of immobile golem army. Without any second of hesitation, the dragon spread his wings and flew to the opposite side of the hall.
Having reached the point of destination, our scaly hero, having slightly opened a door, crippled by time and dampness, tried to squeeze into a tiny stone room. It wasn't an easy task to do, as it had seemed at first: apparently, dwarven architects hadn't prepared for our heroes' visit — the passage to the room was very narrow, so the dragon had to put in his bad licks to get into that tiny house, evidently built for an elvish forest fairy rather than for a normal person or a dragon.
However, a bigger disappointment filled his heart, when he finally got inside: there was not a very pleasant surprise in that cabin, left by tricky beardy midgets — startled dragon witnessed ten levers, connected with each other in a very peculiar way. It seemed, that each of them was constructed for a determined action; this assumption was explained by dozens of runes, but, unfortunately, that fact didn't seem to clear the situation: only one of those levers could be the correct one. The dragon's wandering thoughts, who was desperate to understand the purpose of each of those devices, were interrupted by a loud echo of Esrael's voice:
—How's it going? Anything useful?
—I have very strange levers out here,—the dragon replied, trying to figure out the puzzle.—Each of it has tables with dwarven runes. Can you read dwarvish?
—Unfortunately, not,—the dragon's question discouraged Esrael.—What are we gonna' do now?
—I have no idea,—the dragon replied confusingly, trying to brainstorm for new ideas in hope to find a solution.—It turns out I'll have to crowd my luck.
—And if something bad happens?—Esrael asked disturbingly.
—In that case, we'll have to get the Hades out here as fast as we can,—the dragon, having concentrated on choosing of the correct lever, clarified.—If I'm mistaken — run.
—Wow. Hold on for a sec',—Esrael objected.—We've come here together, we're gonna' walk away together. I'm staying with you in any event.
—Listen, I'm not trying to be a hero out here,—the dragon explained.—You must warn Prince Luminel in case of our failure. I'm giving you a chance to get ready for battle and save precious time.
—I got it,—Esrael, having looked back, sighed.—Do it as soon as you're ready.
—Understood,—the dragon agreed and returned to the further examination of the levers. Each of it had a tablet near the base, festooned with glorious dwarven runes. Fortunately, the only letter our hero knew from the alphabet of mighty mountain miners was "H", so he desperately examined the runes, hoping this letter to be the first in the word "Hengerd". Certainly, his logic wasn't the only correct one, but the only available one to use at that moment. Finally, the dragon witnessed a word, beginning with the letter "H" itself.
Hardly pocketing his joy, he shouted:—I've found it!
—Great!—Esrael exclaimed.—Pull it!
—I'm not sure it's the one...
—We have no other choice. What are you waiting for? Pull!
—Alright, then,—the dragon agreed and, having grabbed the lever, slowly pulled it down. The walls of the stone crypt trembled, and the next thing our heroes heard was a strange boiling, accompanied by a deafening cracking noise. The dragon stood, petrified, — fear overwhelmed his body and didn't hasten to let his soul go. The cracking and boiling were getting louder and louder every second. It seemed as if something was fiercely ravaging indestructible mountain halls, mangling it into a shapeless goo. Odd sounds thundered here and there, making terror crawl into hearts of our heroes. The dragon tried to say something, but he didn't succeed — in a second the walls rumbled, and enormous mountain water streams with a peculiar reddish shade started pouring into the stone crypt. The hall slowly started sinking: whirling water streams, carrying in their liquid sleeves particles of destroyed rock, rapidly began to fill the silent hall. The dragon, having clanged the levers to resist powerful water whirls, shouted to petrified Esrael:
—Run! Get out 'ere! Warn Luminel!
—I won't leave you here!—Esrael desperately shouted, hastily looking around.—We must come back together!
—I can't swim,—the dragon said, observing water sinking the tiny watchhouse and submerging his rear paws. At that moment the cave's ceiling rumbled, and a powerful water stream poured from above.—Save yourself! Someone has to come back to Loriel!
Esrael, having flashed a glance at the dragon, shortened: "Farewell!" — and rushed out of the room through the narrow tunnel. Meantime, the water reached the dragon's head, having completely sunk his massive scaly neck. Only tips of his wings and his head remained above the water. Having felt the fear in the depths of his soul, the dragon started desperately trying to swim up to the ceiling in order to draw even a tiny drop of air into his lungs, but all his attempts were fruitless: in a matter of seconds the hall became completely submerged in water, having forced the dragon to store a tiny portion of air-fuel in his mighty lungs. The water was making the eyes sore, the muscles moaned of air-lack, the brain was screaming with fear of death, however chaotic movements of paws and tail, which the dragon used in attempt to swim out of the watch-house, weren't so useless — in a matter of seconds our hero finally found himself in the sunk hall. By that time his body had consumed all the energy, given by the lungs, so he felt them burning with the blazing fire of suffocation. Little bubbles of carbon dioxide, which our hero tremblingly tried to keep in his lungs, began to file out of his maw. The pupils got tiny because of fear of death, the body began to convulse — the mind was not controlling the biological cell he was imprisoned in anymore. After a couple of torturous seconds, the dragon felt that the respiratory reflexe's patience finally came up to an end: streams of muddy mountain water started slowly filling his mighty lungs, sinking little bubbles of lung alveolus. Darkness started dwelling. The muscles weren't under his control anymore, they were just twitching, wasting the last remained oxygen left in the body. In a moment, the struggle came to an end — his body lifelessly froze in the water. The heart was beating slower and slower, a dark dense fog appeared before the eyes. It seemed it was the soon end of the everlasting existence. Had all hope vanished in that muddy liquid, disappeared in that ferocious swirl of Poseidon? But suddenly, a part of the dragon's consciousness saw huge stone giants' eyes, which had seemed to be shut forever, flatter with bright azure light and tiny streams of grayish glowing liquid run through the chaotically chained boulders. Without even getting startled or scared, the dragon with the help of his acute hearing heard a loud cracking noise, which thundered through the muddy mountain water. In the very moment before losing consciousness every our hero's scale felt as if his body was being flown forward, into darkness, into the thick, dwelling darkness, which enveloped his obscured mind. Darkness... Darkness... Darkness...
The dragon regained consciousness of a strange feeling in the area of his chest: he felt as if somebody was trying to break his ribs, mayhem the lungs and crush the heart with desperate punches, powerful like strikes of a dwarven hammer. The water in the lungs interfered with breathing, the dragon didn't feel his paws. Only frequent punches in the chest. Tum... Tum... Tum... All of a sudden, our scaly hero, having realized that he was still alive, spat all the water from the lungs and instantly, without a moment of waiting, greedily filled his lungs with vital air. Having recovered from continuous coughing, the dragon glanced at his savior. Esrael was warmly looking at his comrade, saved from the clingy claws of death, whose deep ultramarine eyes were confusingly looking around.
—Esrael...—the dragon finally uttered through the terrible cough.—You've saved my life.
—One good turn deserves another,—Esrael smiled, having drawn his hand to the dragon. Having helped him to lift from the ground, our hero continued:— Cerberus clangs you! Why haven't you told me earlier you cannot swim?
—There wasn't any favorable chance,—the dragon, having come to himself, weakly murmured.—Few! That was a close shave! By the way...—in that moment the dragon startlingly clang his head with his frontal paws.—Holy Zeus!
—What's the matter?—Esrael suspiciously asked.
—Before I blacked out, I had seen those statues in the hall come alive...
—What do you mean — "come alive"?—Esrael shockingly asked, having glanced at the entrance to the cave.
Hardly had the dragon begun explaining, a terrible clatter of rockcracking thundered from the depth of the cave, which was followed by the sound, louder than steps of thousands of titans. Esrael decided not to draw further information from the dragon: with the first ground quake, the meaning of his friend's words were pretty clear to him. The wise say that the fear before the unknown is the most powerful. Even before moments being executed, the accused knows that the axe of the executioner is going to chop his head off in a couple of seconds. However, the one who is left to die in the dark dense forest tends to feel more powerful fear, because he is scared of the unexpected: thoughts chaotically rush through neurons in desperate attempts to guess what fate awaits the unfortunate, creating terrific apparitions in his head, making him mad and sinking his mind in the pond of insanity. This kind of execution was widely used by elves. They were not the admirers of bloody and gory events, so they preferred a kind of psychological execution, at the end of which the convicted completely lost his mind and, consequently, due to the forest peoples' representations, "died". Not physically, but morally. At that moment our heroes were to surpass that kind of challenge, but in a much slighter way: they didn't know how the gigantic golems would behave, so they silently, having pocketed their breath, waiting for the inevitable. Meantime, the sound of heavy steps was becoming more and more distinct, making the dragon's and Esrael's hearts appear in their mouths. Startled adventure-hunters stood immobile as if they were wooden idols. They had waited for a few minutes, which seemed to them an everlasting eternity. The time seemed to freeze. Nothing around was important to them. The only thing that was worrying their souls at that moment was the thundering footfall, drawing closer and closer, while the time was cruelly dashing through the blinds of existence. Finally, when the light of dazzling Gelios poured on the impenetrable darkness of the cave, the thing, our heroes had never seen before, appeared from the crypt and made them tremble with fear.
Having broken the walls of the path with strikes of powerful granitic fists, mighty stone golems, whose cursed burning eyes were greedily staring at tiny strangers, went out of the cave. They looked like enormous piles of boulders, assembled into ugly molds of human bodies by an unexperienced sculptor. Crisping their small granitic fingers and surprisingly looking around, they were silently discussing something, moving their shaggy stone jaws. Esrael and the dragon stood immobile with their mouths wide-opened with excitement, gripped by fear