A Betrayal Forever Burns: Ch. 2 - Flint

Chapter 2: Flint

In his dark cave, the young dragon whelp slowly began to stir.  His nightmares, finally ending after such a long sleep, would have to wait.
He opened his eyes.  Immediately his vision began to kick into overdrive.  The darkness of the cave was absolute; no sunlight had ever danced upon its reaches nor ever will in the future.  However, he could still see; thanks to his heritage, no dark place was immune to his sight.  It was as if the cavern was being lit by the brightest beam of sunlight ever to exist.
The reason for his awakening soon became apparent; he could hear chanting deep underground.  The Dwarves were starting to come up and search some of their older mineshafts for potential new digs.  He was right in their line of fire.
The last thing he needed was to be captured by Dwarves.  Immediately, he got up and started running towards the surface.
He had to be careful.  The entire cave was, in fact, a Dwarven mine shaft.  Complete with ventilation shafts designed to mistake the unwary into thinking it as simply a natural cave, it was an ornate work of art within the stone.  Dwarves were always a very secretive race, and as such they preferred keeping their mountains to themselves.  Any intruders, regardless of how abandoned or how ancient a mineshaft may seem, was treated as a prisoner of war and was expected to never see the light of day again.
For a dragon, of course, fate was far worse.  Dwarves and Dragons always shared a hatred for one another.  It went further back than even many of the oldest dragons could remember.  Despite new generations coming and going, Dwarves always held the deepest of grudges.  It didn't matter of you did an act against them yourself or if the ancestor of your entire race did; regardless, all would face judgment.
The young dragon was also very careful about which way he stepped.  Dwarves may carve stone in the shape of natural caverns closer to the surface, but they also kept natural caverns exactly the way they found them.  If he wasn't careful, he could step onto natural, uncarved stone, and that would mean provoking something into hunting him; something that he didn't need biting at his tail.
He leapt past the front gates of the mine shaft; a pair of massive, open doors made of slabs of granite and basalt designed to thwart enemies should they ever find this place by making it appear like the walls of a nearby cavern.  The dragon knew that the tunnels continued for a long time yet, but he didn't want to take his chances.  As soon as he found a side-passage, he ducked inside.
Luckily for him he had dove into a complex that was still of Dwarven construction.  It was what looked like an old mausoleum; a tomb to lay to rest the dead bodies of Dwarves.  There was no smell; merely bits of dust floating about that would threaten a sneeze out of anyone not paying attention.  When a Dwarf dies, the body turns into stone, becoming one with the stone of the mountains from whence they said that they came.
The dragon knew that he was taking a risk staying here, but he felt that it would be best if he simply obliged himself.  The Dwarves were mining, not performing a ceremony of the dead.  The safest place for him right now was out of the mine and among those unable to warn of his passage.
He lay himself down against the side of one such tomb and closed his eyes.  With a yawn, he tried to fall back to sleep.  The nightmares wouldn't come for a while yet.

Nadia and Beorn both had heavy clothes on to protect against the cold.  Fur made out of animal hides and wool undergarments made from the wool of Forest Goats made good protection against the harsh winter snow.  The two of them had a lot of trekking to do before Nadia was satisfied that they were well away from the village.
"Well, here we are," she said.
Beorn was busy wheezing away as he carried a large pack; something that Nadia had hidden back by their usual bolt-hole in case if anything went wrong.  He looked up at her while wiping sweat from his brow.
"Where's here?" he asked.
Nadia turned and gestured at the forest behind her.  "We're here at the place we're going to explore!" she said with a smile.
Beorn took a look around.  The forest was a densely covered woodland of pine trees, each topped with enough snow to make them look like the white spines of a dragon.  The woods were dark, though no more dark than they usually were in winter.  Already he could see the glowing eyes within as his overactive imagination began warning him of the horrors he'd see.
He gave Nadia a confused look.  "This is the forest we usually explore," he said.
Nadia nodded.  "Yup.  But this time, we're going in deeper than we ever did before!"
Beorn gulped.  "Deeper?"
Nadia laughed and gave the pack a friendly punch, almost causing Beorn to topple over.  "Yup, deeper.  In fact, we're going so deep that we're going to come out the other side!"
Beorn gulped again.  He wasn't liking this.
"The other side?"
"The other side."
Suddenly Beorn's eyes widened.  He knew exactly what this meant.
"You don't mean…" he said with a tremble.
Nadia pointed straight up at the mountain face off in the distance.  "We're going to touch the Dragon's Tooth for the first time, and we'll be the first kids to ever do it!  Our names will go down in history!"
Beorn almost fell over with shock.  The Dragon's Tooth was the name of the closest peak of the Forbidden Mountains.  A massive mountain of black stone covered in white snow, it was legendary for its association with Dragon sightings and its proximity to the Elven Empire's northernmost borders.  To come anywhere near the mountain was against any rules, and to touch it was considered forbidden.  For them to do that…
"Well, we'll become pretty popular alright," Beorn whimpered.
Yeah…popular among the Elven Guard.
Nadia giggled.  "I knew you'd see things my way!  Come on, let's go!"
Before Beorn could even protest, Nadia had a hold of one of his pack straps.  With the speed of a rampaging buffalo she dragged him straight into the dark pine wood in the direction of the mountain range.  Beorn couldn't help but feel like he was being eaten alive as the forest swallowed them both up.
They were doomed.  He could just see it now.

"Nadia!  Beorn!  Come back inside, it's time for dinner!"
An older woman, Rizel, stood upon the doorstep of one of the smaller buildings in the village.  Her voice carried quite a distance off; far enough that most turned their heads to look.  Many shook them; right about now was the time that Rizel would figure out that the two rascals weren't coming.
Rizel stamped her foot on the ground in frustration.  Damn those children, she said to herself.  No…it's that Nadia.  Beorn should know better than to run off like that.  That girl is going to be the death of them both, I swear.
She growled in frustration before she went inside, slamming the door behind her.  Half a dozen people looked up before shaking their heads.  At this point, none of them were surprised.
"Siegfried!" Rizel shouted.
There was a grunt from upstairs.  Siegfried, Rizel's husband and Beorn's father, was often asleep during the day due to his role as the Night Watchman.  A young man with brown hair sitting by the stairs looked up at the woman and gave her a smile.
"You shouldn't push my brother so, Rizel," he said.
Rizel glared at him.  "Beorn is our child, Jacob.  I won't grow old knowing that he and that girl grew up as brigands and were sent to the mines south of the fields of Asphodel by the Elves."
"They're just kids, Rizel," he said, "And don't forget that I'm the boy's uncle.  I don't want to see them in trouble any more than you do, but I don't want them growing up with frowns on their faces all their lives."
Siegfried, who had just gotten down the stairs, rubbed a hand over the mop of brown hair that belonged to his younger brother.  He had a large build, and bore the same tawny-brown hair that belonged to his son.  His hair was much longer, and he also sported a beard that covered most of his face and ended at the base of his neck.  His eyes were puffy and drowsy, but he carried himself tall; sleep was the last thing to bother a northerner.
"They at it again?" he asked in a gruff voice.
Rizel nodded.  "They probably found their way out of the village.  They can't have gone far."
"Knowing those two, they're probably halfway through the forest by now," Siegfried said, "I'll ask the Elves if they spotted them.  If they've gone far, I'll fetch a horse."
Jacob rose and put a hand on his brother's shoulder.  "Not this time, brother," he said, "You haven't had enough sleep as it is.  You should get some rest."
"And leave those two rascals alone?" he asked.
"Kids will be kids, Siegfried," Jacob insisted, "but a boy cannot grow bigger when his father falls asleep on the job and fails to bring food to the table."
He put his hand down and reached for his cloak.  "I'll go after them this time.  It's the least I could do."
Rizel gave Jacob a small grin of appreciation.  "Thank you, Jacob."
Jacob put the cloak on.  "Go back to bed," he told Siegfried, "I'll wake you when I find them."
Siegfried nodded, slightly relieved.  "Give that boy a good beating for me."
"Give my favorite nephew a beating?" Jacob asked with a smile, "I'm not that kind of guy.  Now that Nadia, on the other hand, she might be up for a spanking or two by the time I find them."
"Woe be to this house that a family accepted a child of Horst!" an older man shouted from the back of the room.
The three glared at the man in question.  Siegfried approached him and growled.
"Horst Dovenbar was my friend," the large man said, "He was a good man who saved my life.  For that, I'll raise his daughter like she were my own."
The old man grunted.  "Horst Dovenbar was a thief, like his father before him and his father before that.  If ye had a lick of sense, Siegfried Strongarm, ye'd 'ave tossed her back on the street five years ago.  That's what I'd 'ave done."
Siegfried raised his arm to hit the old man, but before he could his brother caught it.  The bigger man glared at his brother, who merely shook his head.
"Bed, Siegfried," Jacob commanded.
Siegfried growled, but eventually got control of himself.  Shrugging his brother off he gave the old man another glare.
"We're not done talking about this, Rogan."
Without another word, he went straight upstairs.  Rizel tried to look comfortingly at her husband, but he merely walked past her and went straight upstairs.  She glared at Rogan before she too walked away.
Jacob scowled at the old man.  "Remember who owns this house, Rogan," he growled, "Bringing up the past won't help you keep your room."
Rogan shrugged.  "I merely stated what anyone else with half a lick of sense would have said in this gods-forsaken village," he said, "Anyone with Dovenbar blood is better off locked away for good."
"You forget that Horst Dovenbar saved this village from a band of Orcs, you bastard" Jacob growled, "And risked his life saving my brother's life."
"That same band of Orcs would never have attacked this village if that son of a pig didn't steal their sacred jewel," the old man pointed out, "Not to mention the countless other treasures he had stolen and sold off countless other times.  If the Orc band didn't come and kill him, someone else would have tried to kill him and take our village down to hell alongside him sooner or later. You mark my words."
Jacob nodded.  "I think I will."
He suddenly kicked outwards, catching the leg of the seat that Rogan was sitting on.  The old man toppled to the floor in a heap.  No one came to stop him or help the old man out.
"You forget that Horst was my friend too," Jacob growled.
Without another word he walked out the door, leaving Rogan muttering curses and threats behind him.

A Betrayal Forever Burns