Orphan Farm Boy of Destiny - episode seven

A story in the Ravenglass Universe.

At the height of the following summer, Gideon stopped Mark before he had chance to enter the training room. He looked between Gideon and Derengard and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong, Mark. We have been discussing your progress and I believe you are ready to receive the Sword of Destiny.”

“What does that mean?”

“As the chosen one, you need a magic sword.”

“A magic sword? Yeah, right.”

“Gideon’s serious,” Derengard said. “The chosen one must wield the Sword of Destiny if he is to have a chance of beating the Dark Lord.”

Mark sighed. “I see.”

“It cannot be made of ordinary materials,” Gideon said. “It must be forged from pure ravenglass.”

“Ravenglass? As in the weird black stuff they have in the churches of the Four?”

“It is a rare and magical material that is said to be imbued with powerful properties.”

Mark rubbed his chin and glanced behind him.

“What is it, Mark?”

Mark turned to Gideon. “Do you know how stupid all of this stuff sounds? Magical blades, dark lords, prophecies.” He shook his head. “How long have I been here?”

Gideon fixed him with a glare but did not answer.

“I’ve seen nothing to prove that any of this is true.”

“But, the prophecy,” Derengard said. “The prophecy is very clear.”

Gideon squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Mark, Mark, Mark. I wish the prophecy were false, but you are here. You bear the sign of the chosen one.”

“But what if it’s wrong?”

The corners of Gideon’s lips twitched. “I pray to the Four that it is.”

“So, this could all be a waste of time?”

Gideon spread his hands. “But the prophecy is true.”

Derengard nodded. “If the Dark Lord does rise, isn’t it better that we’re prepared?”

“So, where is he?” Mark asked.

“He is almost upon us,” Gideon said.

“You said that when I first came here.”

“So you understand the gravity of the situation. We are lucky that we’ve been able to train you as much as we have.”

Mark considered Gideon’s words for several heartbeats before dipping his head. “I understand.”

Gideon clapped his hands together and smiled. “Good.” He pulled a ravenglass dagger from its sheath. The black glass seemed to bend the light around it, making it impossible to discern its edges.

Mark’s eyes grew wide. “Wow.”

“This is only a dagger, Mark. As the chosen one, you will need to procure enough ravenglass to forge a sword.”

“Where am I supposed to get so much ravenglass?”

“I know of a source nearby.”

Excitement rushed through Mark’s chest. “Really?”

“Really.” Gideon sheathed his dagger. “But it is guarded by a wyvern.”

“Where?”

“The wyvern resides in a cave on the tallest peak of the Blue Spire Mountains.”

“That’s not so bad. I’ve seen wyverns before.”

“This wyvern is as large as a destrier and is believed to be fierce.” He raised a forefinger. “Plus, they are known to control the minds of the weak.”

A deep furrow set on Mark’s brow and he looked between Gideon and Derengard, scanning their faces for signs of a joke. When they raised their chins in response, something sank in Mark’s stomach.

“This is a most important mission,” Gideon said. “Without the Sword of Destiny, you will not be able to defeat the Dark Lord.” 

“And I will be there to protect you,” Derengard said.

Mark sucked in his bottom lip. “I suppose we should get going then.”

Mark checked his pack one last time and edged towards the mountain steps with Derengard close behind.

Gideon gestured to the peak beyond and smiled grimly. “Be careful. And trust in each other.”

Mark and Derengard set out towards the distant mountain and spent the rest of the day following the trail towards the tallest peak.

They made camp for the night at the mountain’s base and began their descent at sunrise.

As they climbed, the air grew thin, and Mark realised he could look down on the temple, its complex appearing as no more than geometric patterns against the rock.

He checked and rechecked Gideon’s hand-drawn map and gestured to a dark crevice further up the mountain. “I think it’s there.”

Derengard took the map and looked up at the fissure. “I think you’re right.” He handed the map back to Mark. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Plan? What plan?”

“Your plan to defeat the wyvern.”

“Erm…no one said anything about defeating a wyvern.”

Derengard glowered at Mark and his nostrils flared. “Did you not listen to a word Gideon said?”

“I did. But he never said anything about defeating a wyvern.”

“This is why we’re here. You do realise that, don’t you?”

“I thought we’re here to find ravenglass.”

“Which is guarded by a wyvern.”

Mark grinned. “But that doesn’t mean we have to defeat it. Aren’t their scales supposed to be impenetrable?”

“I’ve no idea.” Derengard gazed up at the cave. “We’ll have to find a weakness. Perhaps its eyes or underbelly.” He continued climbing. “And we have to be fast, wyverns are quick and can fly. We need to keep moving and not give it a chance to attack.”

As Mark continued up the mountain, rocks and loose debris littered the path, the steep incline making it difficult to keep a firm footing.

As they approached the mountain’s peak, the cave opened up before them, jagged rocks protruding from its entrance.

With slow, cautious steps, Mark made his way inside, a pulse thundering in his skull.

As he moved deeper inside, the air grew colder and heavier, the darkness almost absolute. Dripping water echoed through the cavern, the smells of damp stone making way for the stench of death and decay.

Mark signalled for Derengard to stop at the faint rustling and shuffling noises.

He rounded a corner to find a large black wyvern perched on a ledge, its wings stretching out behind it, its claws glinting in the low light.

Animal bones lay scattered across the cavern floor. A mound of ravenglass objects stood in the centre—weapons of all shapes and sizes, fashioned from the dark material.

Mark’s heart raced as he looked up at the creature, wondering how they were going to defeat it.

Derengard stepped forward, his hand on his sword, his voice low. “Keep your mind clear. We need to be careful.”

Mark nodded, his eyes never leaving the wyvern.

“We need to stay out of its line of sight and attack from the sides.”

Mark took a step back and stared at the creature, trying with all his will to remain calm and focused. “No. We can’t do this.”

“That’s your fear speaking.”

“No.” Mark backed out of the cavern. “It’s too powerful.”

“But we need the ravenglass.”

“I know, but we don’t have to kill it. We just need to distract it long enough to get the ravenglass.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“We can lure it away with a shiny rock, or something.”

“I have heard wyverns covet shiny things.” Derengard rubbed his chin. “That might just work.”

Mark grinned. “Let’s do it.” He made his way back outside with Derengard following behind.

He surveyed the area, noting a scrubby bush not too far from the cave’s entrance. “We should gather some stones. We’ll draw out the wyvern, hide behind this bush, and then we can sneak in and grab the ravenglass.”

“I don’t think this will work.”

“We need to try. There’s no way I’m facing that thing in a fight.”

Derengard nodded and the pair gathered some rocks.

They headed back into the cave and stopped near the wyvern’s nest. Mark tossed a rock to the wyvern’s left and it clattered against the wall and floor.

The wyvern turned towards the sound.

Mark stood in silence, waiting for it to move, but the wyvern remained on its perch.

He threw another stone, this time to the wyvern’s right. As it turned its head, its black eyes fixed on Mark and it let out a deafening screech.

“Run!” Derengard whipped Mark around and the pair ran.

The wyvern’s feet clicked on the stones, its wingbeats echoing through the tunnels.

Mark raced from the cave’s entrance and dived behind the bush.

He sat stock still as the wyvern emerged from the cave and looked around. It snapped at the air with shining black teeth and let out another screeching roar.

All Mark could do was watch as the wyvern padded around the cave’s entrance for several minutes before turning back inside.

Mark puffed out a breath as his heartbeat slowed.

“Now what?”

Mark shrugged. “What if we offer it some food, or something?”

“What kind of food are we going to offer a wyvern?”

“Anything that will distract it long enough for us to get past. It needs to be something it can chase.”

“How about a goat?”

Mark pushed out his bottom lip. “A goat might work.”

“We passed some grazing not too far back.”

“Let’s do it.”

Derengard led the way back along the trail until he pointed out a goat balancing on a ledge below. “Remember how we used to hunt rabbits?”

Mark nodded and split from Derengard in a crouch, crab-walking in a wide arc to close in on the goat.

He approached it from behind, careful not to startle it.

The goat turned its head, bleated, and started to run away.

“Quick, grab it.” Derengard darted forward, his arms waving.

Mark sprinted towards the goat and clasped it by its horns.

Derengard grabbed its hindlegs, tackling it to the ground before it could escape.

The goat kicked and squirmed, but Mark and Derengard held on tight.

As they carried the goat up the mountain trail, Mark struggled to keep his grip on the animal. “This goat is heavier than it looks.”

Derengard nodded. “Don’t let go now.”

“I won’t.”

They reached the cave entrance and Derengard drew his sword, his offhand still gripping the goat’s thrashing legs.

“What are you doing?”

“Let go, Mark.”

“Don’t kill it.”

“I don’t intend to. Just let go.”

Mark released the goat’s horns and Derengard smacked the goat’s rear with the flat of his blade.

 The goat let out a scream and took off, its hooves clattering against the cave floor as it bolted inside.

Mark waited in tense silence, listening to the goat’s frantic movements until its bleating stopped.

“Do you think it’s safe?”

Derengard shrugged. “I think it’s dead.”

“I meant, for us.”

“Let’s see.”

Mark ventured into the cave and followed the tunnel towards the wyvern’s nest.

The wyvern stood over the goat, its claws tearing into flesh, its teeth crunching through bone.

Mark eyed a ravenglass sword and stepped forward. “I’m going in.”

Derengard blocked his path with a forearm. “We need to wait until it finishes.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps the meal will tire that thing out.”

“Alright. We can wait.” Mark stood with his back pressed against the wall and waited until the wyvern finished eating and returned to its perch. “It didn’t work.”

“What now?”

Mark shrugged a shoulder. “We get another goat. We keep feeding it until it’s sleepy.”

“Good idea.”

The pair left the cave and found another goat, this one bigger and fiercer than the last, its sharp horns almost goring Mark as they carried it back up the mountain.

They released the goat and Mark winced as the wyvern pounced on its prey, tearing into it with ferocity.

When it finished eating, it let out a growl and loped back to its perch.

“I think it’s working,” Derengard said.

Mark watched the wyvern for several minutes, but the creature showed no further signs of tiredness. “We should get another.”

With a sigh, Derengard nodded and the pair searched for another goat.  

This time, they managed to catch the animal with ease, and they delivered it to the wyvern’s nest.

The goat ran around inside the central cavern, bleating and screaming.

After a minute or so, the goat charged past Mark, almost knocking him over.

Derengard frowned. “The wyvern didn’t go for it.”

“It must be asleep.” Mark grinned and crept into the wyvern’s cavern. He scanned around the wyvern’s perch, but saw no signs of the beast. “It’s gone.”

“Maybe it sleeps somewhere else.”

“Let’s hope so. Quick, let’s grab the ravenglass before it wakes up.” He tiptoed around the scattered bones and goat blood and picked up a ravenglass sword. “This should do the job.”

A loud screech filled the cavern.

The wyvern bounded in, awake and alert, its eyes fixed on Mark.

“Run!”

Mark raced outside and down the rocky slope, Derengard sprinting behind him.

The wyvern launched from its cave and rose into the air. It swooped down on them with billowing wings, its jaws snapping.

Mark hurtled down the mountain as the wyvern landed and raced towards them on bandy legs, its barbed tail lashing the air.

Mark stumbled and fell, his leg twisting under him. Gritting his teeth, he held onto the ravenglass sword and forced himself to stand. “We can’t outrun it.”

“Use the sword,” Derengard said. “It’s our only chance.”

Mark turned to face the charging wyvern and swung the blade with all his strength, catching its chest with a glancing blow.

The beast let out a piercing screech and stumbled backwards, its wings flapping wildly as it tried to regain its balance.

The wyvern fixed its gaze on Mark, its black eyes drawing him in.

Mark sensed something around his mind, soft and warm, the spreading light of the morning sun. He knew he should rest, should allow the day to wash over him, to give up the sword and lie on the ground.

“Mark!” Derengard shook Mark’s shoulders, snapping him back to himself. “Can you hear me?”

Mark nodded weakly and pushed the wyvern’s influence from his thoughts.

“Come on.”

Mark barrelled down the mountain side, his feet racing beyond his control. He glanced back over his shoulder to see the wyvern gaining ground.

“Mark, we need to do something. That thing’s going to tire us out.”

Mark forced himself to run at a lesser incline and scanned the terrain ahead, searching for any advantage. “Over there.” He pointed to a narrow crevice below. “This way.”

“What are you doing? That thing will trap us.”

Mark dived into the narrow space just as the wyvern flew towards them.

The beast’s wings scraped against the rocky walls as it struggled to fit through the tight space.

Derengard swung his sword at the wyvern, but his attack missed.

The wyvern let out a deep roar and thrashed as it tried to squeeze through the fissure.

“It’s stuck. Let’s go.” Mark scrambled out of the other end of the crevice and continued their escape down the mountain, leaving the wyvern behind.

After a minute or so, he glanced back to make sure the wyvern wasn’t following them— the creature remained flailing and screeching. “That was too close.”

“Too close indeed.” Derengard sunk to one knee, his breaths coming out thick and fast. He gestured to the ravenglass sword and grinned. “But we did it.”

“We did.” Mark smiled and pointed down the mountain. “Let’s get back to Gideon before that thing frees itself.”

The following afternoon, Mark returned to the temple complex and found Gideon waiting in the inner sanctum seemingly deep in meditation.

Mark stopped in front of his mentor and held out the sword. “We’ve returned with the ravenglass.”

Gideon opened his eyes and examined the blade. He nodded and rose to his feet. “Well done.” He looked between Mark and Derengard. “Both of you.”

Derengard bowed his head. “Thank you, Gideon.”

“With this ravenglass, we are one step closer to having everything we need to defeat the Dark Lord.”

Mark frowned. “What else is there?”

 “We must now forge the Sword of Destiny.” Gideon took in a deep breath. “For the Dark Lord will rise soon enough, and we must be ready when that time comes.”

“Any hints at when that might be?”

Gideon glowered at him. “No, Mark. But I am certain the time is upon us.”