The Greylands: Volume IV

By Susan Skylark

A land of shadows, of mystery, of obfuscated Truth. Welcome to the Greylands, that strange world, within the bounds of Time, peopled by mortal men. We cannot see truly, only as through a glass, darkly. There are things that move and have their being completely beyond our ability to perceive them. There are things beyond our mortal ability to comprehend. There are hints and glimmers hidden within the body of revealed Truth, but there is much we do not know, cannot yet understand, and could never dare dream. These stories are mere fancy, with a seed of Truth at their core. They play with the ideas of mortality and Eternity, Time and things beyond it, and of course the epic battle of Good against Evil. Each stands alone, and though there are common themes, threads, names, and concepts, each story is an entity unto itself and should not be seen as occurring in the same world or mistaken for installments of a series. These are random musings, not Gospel Truth, and should not be taken as such. Joy, hope, and encouragement are hopefully a byproduct, but certainly not sound Theology. If you would know more of the true world beyond these Greylands, one must be a careful student of the Scriptures, not of silly stories such as these.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Skylark
• Release date: Dec 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311099785

Susan Skylark

Once upon a time there was a sensible young lady who pursued a practical career, but finding it far less fulfilling than the proponents of the modern fairytale promulgate, she then married a clergyman, much to everyone’s astonishment, including her own, and in proper fairytale fashion keeps house for the mysterious gentleman in a far away land, spending most of her time in company with a very short, whimsical person who can almost speak English. She enjoys fantasy, fairy tales, and adventure stories and her writing reflects this quaint affectation. She considers Happy Endings (more or less) a requisite to good literature and sanity, though real stories never, truly end.

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The Greylands: Volume IV

Susan Skylark

Copyright 2013 Susan Skylark

Smashwords Edition

Revised 2019

Author’s Note: each story is unique to itself and is not related in any way to any other work, character, or world by this author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an authorized and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Table of Contents:

The Sundrake

All the Hopes of Men

Other books by this author

Sample Chapters

The Sundrake:

Kipril stared off into the sunset, enjoying the furious colors as the bright orb settled reluctantly into the Sea. He sighed wistfully and turned his back on the breathtaking scene, wending his way home. His weird whistles were answered by the high-pitched, musical voices of his master’s small flock of Sea Drakes, winging their eager way towards the cave-riddled sea cliff where they sheltered at night and during the violent storms that often battered the Western coast of Almaria, the largest island in the great archipelago nation of Vesper. The slave boy’s main duty was as drakekeeper to his master’s little breeding flock. He it was that oversaw every aspect of their keeping, breeding, training, and sale. The creatures obediently settled into their cliff-side caverns for the night with a cacophony of hisses, whistles, and screeches as they disputed over favorite roosting spots. Kipril smiled in amusement, seeing in his mind the minor fracas that commenced in the caves below between his beloved creatures. He stopped briefly in the ramshackle shed to unload his gear and then entered the crumbling cottage that perched precariously on the verge of the cliff, wherein waited his master and supper.

Darfer was an aging, stoic man who greeted the boy with a grunt as he finished setting the table for supper. He had never married, had never wished to; he had no living relatives and no close friends. He lived alone, save for the boy, but slaves were not considered company. The boy quietly reported that nothing of great interest had occurred that day amongst the breeding flock or with the fledglings he was training. Darfer grunted in reply as he sat in his accustomed spot beside the fire while the boy pulled up a stool on the far end of the table. They did not speak all through the simple meal or during the few hours that remained before bed. The boy busied himself with mending some of his equipment while the man smoked his pipe and stared into the fire. Once the fire had burned itself down to barely glowing coals, the man found his grimy bed while the boy ascended into the loft and lay down on the heather-stuffed mattress that was his bed. In the morning, a silent breakfast was eaten and then each immediately set about his daily chores. The boy went out to his drakes and the man busied himself about the homestead with the various chores necessary to existence. Such was their simple life and so it continued, day after day, year after year.

The boy was lonely, but he hardly knew it, for his whole life he had known only the old man, the drakes, and the Sea. He enjoyed his quiet life and neither expected nor dreamed of any other. He was good at what he did and therein he was content. The small breeding flock was stirring as he emerged from the little hut and whistled for his charges. The day was just beginning to grow warmer and they were reluctant to emerge from their roosts into the damp and yet chill dawn, but hunger drove them out into the morning with eager squawks of greeting for their Keeper. They hovered eagerly near the edge of the cliff until he had accounted for each one and then he motioned for them to head out to sea to fish for their daily meal. The creatures bugled in excitement and were soon lost to sight.

Kipril whistled again, but this time in a very different manner and an eager, though cracking croon answered his call. An ancient drake flapped laboriously up from his cave and perched on the edge of the cliff, keening in pleasure as the boy scratched his head. The boy mounted the aged creature, which soon followed the others out to Sea. The flock had found a great school of fish teeming not far from the coast and were eagerly bobbing and diving in pursuit of their favorite prey. Kipril’s beast settled on the edge of the area where the flock hunted and floated along like a great duck, contenting himself with occasionally snapping at a frightened fish that tried to flee his voracious conspecifics.

Their hunger sated, Kipril whistled again, and with a contented roar, all of the creatures were soon aloft and winging their way towards the warm beach where they would bask for several hours during the heat of the day. The flock settled contentedly on the beach; the boy inspected each of the creatures, noting one of the females was showing early signs of heat, but otherwise they all seemed happy and healthy. He left them to their basking and approached a cave on the far side of the beach. From within came eager screeches and whistles; the fledglings were hungry and eager for the warmth of the sun. Kipril whistled and the creatures grew silent, this was the last brood hatched and though young, they already knew what was expected before they were fed. They could not yet fly and fed by scavenging on the beach or fishing in the shallows. Kipril took them out, one at a time, and worked on various lessons as they foraged. Once satiated, they lounged on the beach with their elders, though well out of reach of the possibly aggressive adults. So passed the day, as the sun set, Kipril whistled them home once more.

As they sat over their silent evening meal, a knock came at the door. The old man continued to eat while the boy quickly rose and answered the summons. A lean young man in the livery of some great lord stood outside in the dark. Said he without preamble, is this the house of Darfer, the Drakekeeper?

It is, said the boy, trying to hide his eagerness at this potential customer; he loved nothing more than exhibiting his drakes to an appreciative audience, won’t you come in?

The man continued, have you any beasts for sale?

The boy nodded, we have a clutch that is two months old and coming along well with basic training; they will be ready to begin more advanced training before very long and flying soon after that.

The man looked disappointed, have you nothing rideable?

The boy shook his head, we have only the breeding flock which is not trained. Our sole riding beast is too old and feeble for much beyond our morning fishing forays.

The man looked truly saddened, a pity, for it is said you have the best beasts anywhere in Vesper, but my master is looking for a creature able to carry a rider. I thank you for your trouble. He turned and walked away into the darkness as Kipril shut the door slowly after him. Darfer only grunted in irritation and continued eating. The boy sighed and returned to his own meal though he now had little heart for his food.

Vesper was a prosperous and peaceful Kingdom, so far away from anywhere else in the world that it was little troubled by outsiders. There were no mammals native to the archipelago, but a variety of strange reptilian creatures were discovered there by the first pioneers, brave or foolish enough to land on those shores back in the dim mists of time. The voyage from the nearest outpost of civilization was long and arduous, not to mention dangerous with the great storms that often battered the coast, travelers were glad to reach the islands themselves, let alone hoping to bring any domestic stock safely through the treacherous journey. So it was that the native fauna was domesticated and adapted for use by the burgeoning civilization. The Sea Drakes were a lithe, winged reptile with long neck and tail, large and strong enough to carry a grown man aloft. They were quite useful for medium to long distance travel, as well as travel between the islands. For shorter distances, there was a bipedal, long-legged beast called a Runner. A heavy quadruped was used for draught purposes and a variety of smaller beasts of various type were used for hunting, farm work, guarding the homestead, sending messages, and companionship. There was even a subspecies of the draught beast that grazed the vast meadows of the island which was found both in domestic and wild forms, the former provided a source of meat and hides while the latter was a favorite of hunters, both peasant and noble alike.

Slaves were quite common in those days, but they were far better treated than many of their class in other lands and times. Most were slaves by birth, necessity, or reduced to such status by unpaid debt or as punishment for some crime. One could be born into slavery yet one could also buy his freedom or be freed by a generous master or the King. Those who could not take care of themselves, at least the able bodied, often ended up in such straits, especially orphans with no one to take them in; such was the case with Kipril. His unnamed mother had left him on the doorstep of Darfer’s forsaken cottage as a small child; the man had taken the lad in, but refusing to adopt him as a son, took him on as a slave. The boy had little hope of ever freeing himself, but perhaps when his master grew old or died, he would become master of the wretched cottage and the small flock of drakes and thereby become a free man. But this was all in the very distant future and nothing the lad thought of on a regular basis, ever were his thoughts busy with his drakes and their training.

The days passed in their steady plod, the fledglings grew and learned, the female was bred and the clutch layed, and the boy looked eagerly forward to their hatching. He had seen many a hatchling struggle forth from the leathery shell of its prison, but each new hatching never ceased to be a source of boundless pleasure and joy. The female layed her eggs in the sand of that warm beach, but well away from the raging tide and her clumsy flock mates. Ever she lay near them, turning them when they grew too warm or cold, guarding them from any harm. She would not leave her nest until they had hatched and then the little ones would be on their own, at least they would have been had not Kipril ever been watching over them and anticipating the day of their hatching. Finally, on a cold, damp morning after a tempestuous storm, the little ones began whistling in their shells and breaking forth with a vengeance. The female, content that she had done her duty by her offspring, headed out to sea for a much needed feeding, leaving her brood to the whims of nature or rather the care of the faithful Drakekeeper.

He waited patiently, as each wet and wriggling creature broke free of its shell. They were ravenous little beasts and eagerly consumed the food he offered them, thus gentling them to humans in their first impressionable hours. Eight of the little creatures had broken loose and the final egg was rocking violently until suddenly the beast was free and Kipril’s heart froze in his chest. The others were all of varying shades of blue and green, like the sea, but this little creature was colored as the sunset, all in gold and deepest orange. He stared in wonder, never in all his years amongst the drakes had he ever seen or heard of anything like this! But this was no time for astonishment, the little one had to be fed. Once satiated, the sleepy hatchlings were easy enough to pick up and deposit in the safety of a special pen at the back of the cavern the fledglings inhabited. The curious older brood squawked and chirruped at this strange interruption to their usual schedule; they were starting to leap into the air and would soon be a-wing, Kipril hoped to have sold the lot of them before then, because after they could fly they were a great deal more work and he would already have his hands full with this new hatch.

He finished his chores as the sun was setting, whistled up his flock, and headed for home with his strange news for old Darfer. He entered the hut as usual, met by the same indifferent grunt, and then told of the hatching and the bizarre young drake.

Darfer froze, and for the first time in remembrance, the man spoke, what did you say? Kipril repeated what he had said and the man said aghast, are you sure? The boy gave the man an affronted stare, as the old man continued, this cannot be! There are legends…but they are legends! Not prone to happen in our drab lives.

He snatched up a lantern, and ordered the boy to follow, as he dashed out of the hut and down to the seaside cave. The younglings squawked in surprise and annoyance to be disturbed at such an hour but Darfer paid them no heed as he stared in wonder at the new brood. There, curled up amongst her drab siblings, was the legendary Sundrake. He hastened the boy back to the house and there confronted him, have you any idea what this means? The boy shook his head in confusion and the old man considered for a moment that Kipril’s education had been solely in his hands and he had never told him the old stories.

He motioned for the boy to sit on his stool before the dying fire as he paced the room, saying, legend tells of such a creature, legend nearly as old as Vesper. When our forefathers landed on these shores, an old prophet washed ashore in a decrepit little boat, the sole survivor of a tragic shipwreck. He did not live long after his rescue, but before he died, he foretold that such a creature would one day appear and when it did, we must prepare ourselves, for a great darkness would soon overshadow us and destroy us utterly if we were not ready. He said that the beast and its master would be the key to victory. We must get word to the King! He looked grimly at the boy, I am too old for such a journey, you must take the old beast and make your way to the capital city of Versa.

The boy was both eager for such an adventure but also fearful that all his careful work would come to naught in his absence. The old man scoffed a laugh, fear not for your precious drakes! I can manage in your stead, remember who it was that taught you in the first place. The boy was quite relieved and after a quick supper, went straight to bed that he might be away first thing in the morning.

Just as the sky began to pearl with the first hints of dawn, Kipril whistled up his ancient beast, which snarled in irritation to be wakened well before his usual hour, but he came forth regardless. He flew the old beast out to sea and let him dine on a reasonable number of fish, not letting him gorge or he would be too stuffed to fly far. Once the beast was fed, they stopped briefly to collect what the boy would need for his trip, and then they were soon away. The beast was eager at first to see new lands beneath his wings, but with each passing hour his strength waned, each stroke of his great wings became more difficult, and as he weakened, his pace slowed and he lost height, until at last he was nearly skimming the trees, which forced the distraught boy to urge the creature to land.

It was certainly an ungainly landing but not quite a crash, but the boy knew the beast was unlikely ever to fly again. His heart ached, for he was quite fond of the old fellow but his mind raced, trying to discern a way to complete his urgent errand without his faithful companion. The noise of their landing must have disturbed the local residents, for a number of them came running to see what all the ruckus was about. They stared in wonder, few had ever seen a Sea Drake this close before. They were common enough overhead, but few were found this far inland unless their masters had some errand in the area, which was unlikely, considering the neighborhood.

A man in his middle years approached the terrified boy, who had never seen so many people in his life, though they numbered less than a dozen souls. The man was the local innkeeper and he knew a thing or two about beasts; he knew as well as the boy that this weary creature would never again tread the paths of the sky. The boy was nearly desperate to continue on his way, but his ragged appearance spoke of his poverty and his inability to procure the resources necessary for such a journey. Said the man gently to the cringing boy, easy lad, can we be of assistance? Tears filled the boy’s eyes as he shook his head, though whether of grief or frustration, the man was unsure. Asked the man, what brings you all the way from the coast with so ancient a creature?

The boy squeaked, I must reach the King, my master set me a vital errand and now I will never reach the capital.

The Innkeeper said thoughtfully, your beast is done lad, and it would seem your journey too, but I will tell you what. Give me your beast, I’ll salvage what I can from him. His hide at least would be worth something. In exchange, I’ll loan you one of my runners to make your journey on, and you can stay at the inn and have a bit to eat both tonight and on your return. What say you?

The boy was stunned, he had never anticipated anything like kindness in the wilds of civilization nor did he like the idea of selling what very nearly was his dearest friend for the price of his hide, but the creature was certainly in distress and there was no other way he would ever finish the journey afoot. He nodded grimly, the innkeeper motioned for one of his serving girls to take charge of the boy, and he and several of the menfolk would see to ending the creature’s misery. With a last, pathetic look at the broken creature, the boy followed the kindly woman into the inn.

His first night in a real bed would have been quite refreshing had he not spent the whole time thinking about what was yet to come; his reeling mind left little time or chance for sleep. Having something besides fish stew morning, noon, and night also was a novel experience. He stretched, yawned, and went down to speak with the innkeeper about what was to come. He greeted the boy warmly, saw that he got some breakfast, and went about finishing his morning chores while the boy ate. Once the boy was sated, the innkeeper brought out an old map, but the boy only stared at it in incomprehension. The man shook his head in exasperation at whoever had so severely neglected the boy’s education and then sent him on such an errand alone. He briefly explained maps and their use and pointed out the best way to reach Versa. The boy was used to seeing things from the air so easily caught on to the concept. The innkeeper then took him out to the stableyard, showed him how to handle and care for a runner, and then saw that he had enough food and supplies to get him to Versa and back.

Kipril stuttered in wonder, I thank you sir for you kindness! Never in all his years of faithful service had his master been half so generous as this stranger. He climbed aback the squatting beast, urged it to stand, and the next moment they were running down the road at a quick clip. Kipril much preferred the freedom of the air, but there was a sense of speed and recklessness one felt aback such a steed that for a time, he simply enjoyed the exhilaration of the ride.

They rode on until there was barely light to see, stopping occasionally to water and rest the beast as the innkeeper had instructed him, but otherwise pushing the beast as fast as he could go over such a distance. Kipril tethered the beast near the wooded edge of a meadow where it could hunt for mice, insects, and small birds amongst the brush. There were no native mammals in Vesper, but rodents had come ashore with their unwitting human chauffeurs. Kipril crawled beneath a bush and was soon fast asleep. Morning found him wet with dew and stiff from his unaccustomed ride. He stretched, ate something out of his saddlebags, tended to the beast, and was soon on his way. The ritual continued for several days until they reached the great city of Versa one bright midday.

Kipril gawked about him in wonder, never having dreamed of such architecture or so many people, though the complexity and number of both had increased exponentially as they neared the center of civilization in the archipelago. But his bucolic eyes had never seen nor dreamed of such a sight. The runner was reduced to a slow plod as they found themselves caught in the thronging streets of the crowded city. Their destination was obvious, as the great castle towered over everything. They reached the gates of the castle and the boy thought to ride straight through, but the guards crossed their weapons in front of him, blocking his way. He looked at the men with such pleading and desperate eyes, they nearly let him pass simply out of pity, but they had their orders.

Said the senior officer posted there, you cannot just ride in and see the King lad.

The boy said in a barely audible whisper, but I must, sir! I bear dire news and my master has bid me tell the King.

The guard shook his head sadly and said, off with you lad, the King cannot be disturbed, even for such portentous tidings as you no doubt bear.

The boy frowned, wondering whether the man was taunting him or simply trying to assuage his feelings. He decided on the latter, as there was only pity in the man’s tone. Kipril nodded dully and turned his runner to go. Hold on a moment lad, came a voice scratchy with age, perhaps we can be of use to one another. The boy glanced about and found the source of the voice: an old man in deep blue robes shuffled over and peered up at him with smiling eyes full of wisdom and kindness. The boy’s disappointment turned to curiosity as a small grin graced his lips; he nodded his eagerness. The man took the reins of the runner and led him off to a small inn where they could talk undisturbed.

After procuring a loaf of bread and a bit of nameless stew, they sat quietly as the boy ate ravenously. Once his hunger was satisfied, the man began, you seem to have dire news you would tell the King yet you cannot gain an audience, peasant that you are?

The boy sighed, less than even a peasant sir, for you speak with a slave.

The man shrugged, what is that to me? You are still human, no less so for your meager social status. Pray, continue.

The boy brightened at this and said, I thought only to broach this matter to the King, but I feel perhaps I can trust you sir.

The man nodded, what shall pass between us shall remain secret, save if you would have me tell his Majesty the King, for I happen to have his ear from time to time.

The boy seemed to melt with relief, but soon his excitement to share his news made him burst forth, it is about the Sundrake!

The man frowned, what about it lad? We all know the legends, but men have been watching and dreading its advent for centuries, all to no avail.

The boy shivered at the gravity in the man’s voice, but it has come.

The man paled in fear and then said eagerly, can this be true?

The boy nodded vigorously, we had a clutch hatch several days ago and one of the hatchlings is colored like the sunset. Could it be anything else?

The man shook his head in astonishment, it must be so lad, but we must be very cautious in who hears of this. There are many who would use this event for their own gain and would be most ready to kill for it.

The boy shivered and asked, what do I do?

The man, Ubert by name, said thoughtfully, we had best get you and this miraculous hatchling somewhere safe and secure, where it can be hidden until the time is right to make this known to the world. You go back to your master and tell him you have delivered your message and the King will soon enough take the matter into consideration. I will follow not long after and see if I can convince your master to give you and the creature into my keeping, that we may secret you both away until the appointed time. Then, after all is safe, and only then, will I broach the matter to the King and thereafter we will act as we must.

The boy frowned, why not take this matter to the King first?

The man smiled, for the boy had a sharp mind, "lad, there is more at work here than the King’s will. He is surrounded by many servants, nobles, and advisors, many of whom are unreliable and would love nothing better than to spread gossip of such an event, and there are undoubtedly some of a treacherous nature who would stop at nothing to claim the beast for themselves. Even the King, perhaps might act in a manner unworthy of his position and thereby endanger all of Vesper. No, it is best we take this privately to the King only after all is safe and secure, so that if we are betrayed, the creature not