Sara Reinke - Tiralainn 03 - Book of Dragons Volume 05.pdf - Sara Reinke - widez2

Book of Dragons – Volume 5

Published in the United States by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon

Publishing Inc., Markham, Ontario Canada.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any

information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Double

Dragon Publishing.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales

or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Double Dragon eBook

Published by

Double Dragon Publishing, Inc.

PO Box 54016

1-5762 Highway 7 East

Markham, Ontario L3P 7Y4 Canada

http://www.double-dragon-ebooks.com

http://www.double-dragon-publishing.com

ISBN-10: 1-55404-459-6

ISBN-13: 978-1-55404-459-7

A DDP First Edition June 19, 2007

Book Layout and

Cover Art by Deron Douglas

www.derondouglas.com

Chapter One

The Oirat reached the entrance of the underground city of Heese by late

afternoon two days later. Here, the Ujugar cliffs were not as sheer; they draped down

from the imposing heights of Ondur Dobu like sprawled and groping fingers of stone. As

it approached its confluence with the Dalda, the swift current of the Okin River yielded to

shallow, burbling channels spread among frost-crusted islands of sparse witch-grass

and graveled ground. As the waning, golden glow of the sun seeped among the sloping

mountainsides, they could see the entry ahead of them, and the entire party drew to an

awestruck halt.

“Tengeriin boshig,” Toghrul whispered, drawing the blade of his hand to his brow

to shield his marveling gaze from the glare.

“There it is, oyotona. Do you see?” Aigiarn said to Temu, her voice soft and

breathless with wonder. “It is Heese, just like Rhyden promised.”

Rhyden might have promised them Heese, and he might have had memories of

the place seared into his mind, but even these had not prepared him for the actual sight

of the Abhacan city. He had been to Iarnrod, the enormous royal city of Tirurnua,

enough times to fairly well find his way along its streets blindfolded, but he had never

seen anything like this. Iarnrod was built to be a fortress city-state -- like all Abhacan

cities constructed after the fourth or fifth dynasty. The influx of men and their tenacious

efforts to claim lands from the Abhacan had forced the diminutive race to retreat

beneath their mountains, to use their cities as fortified sanctuaries against the

continuous threat of invasion.

Such fortifications had come to Heese, but the city had been built long before

this, during a renaissance period in Abhacan architecture Rhyden had never even heard

about. To enter Iarnrod, visitors had to pass through long, treacherous ravines carved

among mountain peaks, and then through massive, nigh-impenetrable iron doors.

Rhyden knew from the gazriin ezen’s memories that beyond the threshold they now

rode toward, a similar iron barrier had been constructed. However, Heese had once

been a nexus for culture and activity in Tirgeimhreadh; it had welcomed visitors from all

races with opened arms. Rather than the cold and uninviting entrance of Iarnrod, Heese

had been graced with a magnificent threshold, a place that reminded guests of the

might of the people who had once called the city home, and yet drew them inside, likely

as enthralled as the Oirat now stood.

Six broad stairs, hewn from the granite of the cliff base led up to a portico framed

by a colonnade of six towering columns, each at least twenty feet high. The roof of the

portico sloped upward along the mountainside; an entablature carved out of the cliff

itself. A huge archway of stone more than thirty feet across crowned the top, flanked by

two massive pillars hewn in relief. The entire magnificent structure was adorned with

relief sculptures and inscriptions, intricate and elaborate renditions of Abhacan runes

and mythological characters, kings and armies, triumphant battles and the splendor the

Abhacans had enjoyed in their daily lives.

A solitary doorway, fifteen feet tall, stood in the center of the portico’s far wall.

There was nothing but darkness beyond; the door crossed into a tunnel that led toward

the belly of the mountain.

“Mathair Maith,” Rhyden breathed. Good Mother. “It is incredible!”

Towering above the portico, perched against the slopes of the Ujugar was a

dragon, an enormous, hulking sculpture chiseled out of the mountainside. It stood twice

again as tall as the threshold, with its broad wings draped back against the cliffs, its

immense, crested head turned eastward, away from the glow of the waning sun. This

colossal sentry had been meticulously, magnificently hewn from the granite, and nearly

seemed lifelike in its stunning grace and detail. As the fading light of the sun spilled

upon the dragon’s form, it seemed aglow, bathed in gold, and Temu gasped softly.

“It is Ag’iamon,” he whispered, looking at Yeb, his eyes bright and wide with

excitement. “Look, Yeb -- it is Ag’iamon!”

“It would seem we are in the right place, then,” Yeb said, his own eyes round with

wonder as he looked at the dragon.

While the dragon was likely carved at a much later date -- probably millennia --

after the threshold itself, time and the elements had taken their tolls upon both of the

granite structures. As the Oirat reined their bergelmirs toward the structure, they could

see tumbled piles of debris littering the ground and riverbanks where the cliff slopes had

yielded and crumbled. They had found evidence of other such landslides all along their

passage through the Qotoyor Berke ravine. Four days earlier, they had discovered

skeletal remains among the debris of one such old avalanche. They had found signs all

through the route of the party of Oirat Yesugei had dispatched with Inalchuk years

earlier: old, abandoned campsites, with charred marks in the graveled riverbank still

apparent enough to mark where fires had been built, small tools, needles or food

packets fallen and forgotten from Oirat bogcus. Of this party, only Inalchuk had survived

to return to the Nuqut and with the discovery of the sun-bleached skulls and battered

bones, it seemed they had learned the fates of those who had traveled with him.

At Heese, the broad foundation of the stairs had cracked in places, dark tendrils

riving the stone. The bases of the columns, and the tapered edges of the dragon’s

extremities along its wingtips, crest and snout were all were visibly worn and eroded.

Many of the relief panels framing the walls were indecipherable from millennia of wind,

rain and snow. Water had seeped into miniscule cracks in the stone, and countless

winters had seen it turn to ice, crumbling the granite. Despite this abuse, the entrance

remained glorious and the granite glowed as if infused with gold as the last rays of sun

fell upon it.

“The baga’han built all of this?” Temu asked.

“A long, long time ago they did, yes, Temu,” Yeb said, nodding.

“I do not understand,” Temu said, puzzled. “Rhyden said they are little, short like

me. Why would they build something so big if they were so small?”

Yeb smiled at him. “Small does not necessarily mean weak, Temu,” he said.

“Perhaps the baga’han meant only to remind others of this.”

Juchin made a harrumphing noise in his throat as he frowned, shifting his weight

in his saddle, aggravated by their delay. He had dispatched four Kelet riders behind

them shortly after they had found Jobin Dunster along the banks of the Okin. The

sentries had rejoined them that morning to report more than two hundred Khahl

Minghan warriors rode less than five hours behind them. Despite these superior

numbers, the Khahl seemed to be making no great effort to quicken their pace, or close

the distance with the Oirat any further.

Sara Reinke - Tiralainn 03 - Book of Dragons Volume 05.pdf

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