The Dreaded Tome of Urawn
Short Story
by Lee Clark Zumpe
"Curse you, mortal," shouted the great grey dragon vexedly as the mortal on her back fidgeted nervously in his saddle. "By the gods, be still!"
Far from her lavish den in the Northern Mountains, the dragon soared through the sky above a leafy canopy. Zuignaar and her human attendant had travelled no small distance to reach the long-abandoned city of Arrahkeesh in the wilds of the Nairuvian jungle. Therein, she hoped to find and secure a dangerous manuscript, the very existence of which caused dire concern among the Council of Elder Dragons.
High in the evening sky, the dragon's sharp eyes could only now discern the bubbling domes and towering minarets of the ancient stronghold silhouetted against the fading traces of the sunset. Friel clutched anxiously at her hide, still trembling from the storm-darkened skies through which they had pressed to make the city before nightfall.
"Can you see it yet?" he asked excitedly.
"Yes, I can see it. We'll be there in a matter of moments," the dragon said, reassuring him with a softer tone of voice than she had used a moment earlier when she had reprimanded him. Though she hated to admit it, she liked little Friel and found herself exceedingly reluctant to censure him in any way. She had never developed such a fondness for one of her slaves. "I'll have you safely down on your precious ground shortly."
The black walls of Arrahkeesh rose up arrogantly out of the tangle of an untamed jungle. Long had those walls gone unattended by guardians, and long had the watchtowers been vacant. Only the jungle itself now threatened the city whose kings and citizenry had disappeared ages ago. Zuignaar knew that even thieves shunned this sinister place, and that the prize that she sought would not be easily won.
As the dragon lit upon the rain-sodden cobblestone surface of the city's central square, Friel silently offered up a prayer of thanks to the patron god of adventures, Ulahn.
Dark towers and long-deserted temples stood silent. Streets, overrun with probing vines from the encroaching jungle, trailed off into a tangle of terraced archaic masonry haunted by shadows and legends. Overseeing the deserted streets, the citadel of the ill-famed wizard Urawn crouched upon the crest of a ridge that enfolded the city. Zuignaar wondered if the screams of Urawn's sacrifices still echoed through the halls of that fortress, if the spatters of blood still stained the marble floors of his conjure-cells.
From the ledge of a nearby edifice, a row of grim-faced gargoyles glared down at the grey dragon and her man-servant.
"I've not ever seen a city such as this," Friel whispered, fearful that his voice might rouse spirits of the dead. He marvelled at the unusual architecture, the intricate designs adorning each building, the sombre statues quietly guarding the entrance to each building. Open-mouthed he wondered at the complexities of patterns, at the vastness of it all. "Certainly this place was not built by human hands," he finally declared, looking toward his master for enlightenment.
"Aye, it was," Zuignaar answered calmly as she scanned the crumbling walls. "Built in the Age of the Yellow Moon, when the Faceless King ruled from the throne high atop the cliffs of Mount Ty'Ryluan. The walls of this city were raised very long ago, before the Wars of the Goblin Clans, and before the Scarlet Plague descended upon your race."
"And the dragons allowed it?" Friel asked, his eyebrows raising in disbelief. The slave could not accept that his scrawny, feeble-minded kin could erect such a colossal fortification, nor could he believe that the dragons would permit such a city's construction.
"Well, er," the grey dragon began, trying to find a satisfactory response that would urge no further inquiries, "The city, you see, was built before the dragons had formed the confederation. In those days, the Emperor permitted the establishment of some settlements to see whether or not freed humans could live independently. It was nothing more than an experiment, one which clearly failed." Zuignaar smiled a little, inadvertently flashing her dagger-length fangs. "Once the confederation had been founded, the Council of Elder Dragons quickly outlawed mortal colonies -- which, I think, was for the best."
"Oh," Friel said, accepting the explanation at face-value. He stuck out into the shadows hesitantly, poking his head down a gloomy alley. "What happened to everyone that lived here, then?"
"Dead, I'm sure," Zuignaar answered quickly. She kept an eye on her slave as he investigated the ruins, but in the meantime she withdrew a piece of parchment from a satchel on her back. Upon the scroll was a detailed map of the city, along with a few verses written in the language of the Old Wyrms. Only learned dragons could translate such ancient runes. "We know little about the fate of this city other than what was recorded in an old book --" The dragon caught herself. She realized she had almost told her servant about the mortal-penned Tome of Rathnik. The Council would have had her spiked tail for such a blunder. Humans simply did not read and write.
"A book?" the slave mumbled.
"Yes," she said, glancing at the slave as he wrestled with a heavy door. She found a bitter taste upon her tongue with each new lie, but knew she could not reveal the truth to Friel no matter how much she trusted him. "More like a journal, really -- kept by a reclusive dragon. It reports that the city was sacked by some nameless legion from the deep jungle before the dragons could come and lead the humans back to safety in the heart of the empire."
"Such a tragedy," Friel said, grimacing. He rammed his shoulder against the stubborn door one last time before giving up. "It goes to show, though," he said as he wandered back to Zuignaar's side, "That humans must not strike out on their own. They are best kept by their masters, protected from the bad things of the world."
"Precisely," the grey dragon said, nodding her head. "Now, I believe that the shrine we seek should lay down this avenue --"
"Perhaps someday," Friel said absently, interrupting the dragon, "Humans will be ready to leave the roost, though. Dragons and humans could live together, not as master and servant, but as equals."
"I don't know about..."
"...and humans could build new cities, cities as big as this one -- only more splendid, and far less gloomy."
"Friel," the grey dragon said firmly, "We have much to do. We haven't the time to dream silly dreams." The Council of Elders had entrusted this important task to Zuignaar knowing that she would not disappoint them. She would not allow her feelings for her slave to jeopardize the success of her quest. "I know I can depend on you."
"Yes, Zuignaar," the human said solemnly, bowing to his master. "I am sorry."
"Let us find the Shrine of the Black Monolith and secure the tome. Then we can leave this accursed place and never set eyes upon it again."
The two set out down the avenue cautiously, knowing that spawn of the savage jungle could stalk these streets. Moonglow provided some light but failed to disperse the gloom from many corridors. Zuignaar shot delicate ribbons of fire into some of the more ominous shadows, scattering the darkness long enough to assure her slave that nothing monstrous or menacing lurked there.
Friel hiked bravely down the increasingly narrow city streets while Zuignaar hopped from perch to perch atop the fast-decaying buildings on either side. She took great care when she set down on the old buildings, knowing that her weight might be enough to collapse any one of them and to send a shower of debris raining down into the street and upon her servant.
Zuignaar shuddered to think what she would do if any harm were to come to her little Friel.
"I think I've found it," the slave cried out. "The pillars are of the darkest stone I've ever seen -- as though they were cut from dusk itself."
"That is it! Those are the Columns of Haydin the Wicked, first priest of the Black Monolith." The grey dragon found a sturdy landing place and stretched her long neck down into the street where Friel stood. "See the nine steps of black marble," she asked, her voice quivering with thrill of discovery, "And the thirteen nesting gargoyles perched atop the crest of the temple?"
"They are hideous, those things," the slave said eyeing the uncanny sculptures teetering on the ledge high above him. Glaring downward with vengeful eyes were thirteen mammoth winged demons cut from the same black stone that had begot the columns, the stairway and the monolith itself. "What made them forge such horrible things?"
"The evil of this place, of the Black Monolith itself, twisted their minds and made them create such abominations in the name of their gods." The dragon regarded the gargoyles uneasily, their stony wrath disquieting her. "All around this city you will find such loathsome things -- but these thirteen are the most malignant of them all, for Urawn himself carved them from the black stone."
"I do not understand," the slave said, shrugging his shoulders and scowling.
"Do not let it trouble, you," Zuignaar told her favourite slave, nudging him gently toward the steps with her snout. "Now take your firebrand and enter this place -- walk to the center of the temple and you shall find an altar. Upon that altar is the Tome of Urawn." She snorted and puffed smoke from her gaping nostrils. "Bring the book to me, and then we can leave."
"It is so dark inside -- can we not wait for the dawn?"
"No, little one," she said, "I cannot bear to stay here a moment longer than I must. If you are afraid, call out and I will answer."
Friel hesitantly entered the temple, the light of his torch shimmering on the walls of polished black stone. Dust layered the floor, and a handful of bats clinging to the ceiling stirred and shrieked at the unexpected intrusion. The dragon watched apprehensively as he passed through the archway and faded from view. The rampant darkness inside quickly swallowed all trace of his torch.
"Friel!" Zuignaar called out only a moment later, already worried about her servant, "Friel, can you hear me?"
"I can," the slave answered promptly, "I am moving down a corridor toward the central chamber -- I can see statues and fountains, and -- "
"Yes," the dragon asked, frightened by the sudden silence. "What do you see?"
"The altar...and the dread Tome of Urawn"
"That is wonderful," the dragon said. She sighed heavily and smiled. "Now bring it to me."
Friel did not respond for several instants, and the warmth of the dragon's victory began to grow cold.
"Friel?" Zuignaar quit her perch and flapped her wings nervously, hovering above the temple while she bowed her head closer to the entrance to try to find her slave. "Friel, are you still there?"
"Yes, I am fine," Friel called out from the darkness. "I am going over a few of the passages in this text."
"What are you talking about?"
"I am reading," the slave said, and Zuignaar staggered in the air. One of her wings accidentally grazed a nearby building and bricks tumbled into the street. "Do not be angry with me -- not all humans are illiterate, you know."
"But the elders do not permit humans to -- "
"No, the Council of Elder Dragons does not allow humans to do much of anything. They certainly don't approve of sharing the truth about our history with us." Zuignaar kicked aside the remnants of the building across the street from the temple so that she could draw even closer to the archway. She thrust her head through the massive doorway and stretched down the corridor. "It is most fortunate that we humans have managed to pass on our history verbally from generation to generation, so that it is not forgotten how the dragons subjugated us after our numbers were depleted from the plague."
"You mustn't say things like that," the dragon pleaded as she strained to push a little deeper into the temple. "If you just bring me that book, I will explain everything."
"I do not think I am in need of your explanations anymore, old Zuignaar. I think I understand everything, now. Arrahkeesh was a secret city founded by escaped slaves -- and Urawn was a sorcerer who learned that dragons had natural enemies of old, and he knew that if he could summon them then he could liberate his people from their servitude. The Tome of Urawn provides the invocation to rouse our allies from their slumber."
"Friel, please," the grey dragon said. "I cannot bear to hear such blasphemies -- don't force me to punish you, please!"
"You thought you could keep this from us," the human said bitterly. "You really believed that we would not grow tired of slavery. The time has come, master."
"Your kind could not have survived without us..."
"'Kah-rah, Alh-fahl, Kohnah, Ir.'"
"We gave you shelter, protected you from the goblins,"
"'Mah-rah, Kah-Han, Naguu, Ir.'"
"Friel," the grey dragon pleaded, "Don't read another word..."
"'Toh-mah, Sha-Toh, Nando, An.'"
Zuignaar shuddered. A ripple of activity raced across the city as things long-dormant awakened while the last syllable of Friel's summoning echoed through the halls of the temple. The dragon whimpered as she heard the sudden savage howls shatter the silence of the night. Ugly black wings fanned out beneath the twilight, dark eyes filled with fiery rage and stony faces twisted with anger.
As their spawn gathered in the skies above Arrahkeesh, the thirteen reigning gargoyles stared at the plump dragon before them and smiled.
At long last, the feast would commence.
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