Armilander, the Dragon

By A. Foster

Time is all run-out, or has it started over? Tan leaves her homeworld, to chase evil into the dark of another realm. Finding herself walking straight into the heart of war, she is immediately tested to her limits. Coming away blind and helpless, from having assisted strangers, she still saves the day. Yet at a cost? Sightlessness would surely, devastate her whole quest. Oh and all this in the first five minutes of her arrival to this... new Arrel.

All... appears lost before it began. Then she is befriended by "Hope". In the form of a man, a great leader of his people, named Marale. A mortal destined to be something greater, than even he, first thought possible. In chasing his own love, a dream woman, . Their small band of fighters and heroes race NORTH to edge of tomorrow in an effort to save ALL!

Book One Runner ISBN 9780463444184

Book Two Paladin ISBN 9780463566756

Book Three Armilander, the Dragon

Winner Nano 2019

Award-winning stories and novels by A. Foster

International Poet, Photographer, Artist and Story Master

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. Foster
• Release date: Sep 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463419830

A. Foster

Hello friends,Thank you for taking a moment to check out my site. I hope one of my stories catches your attention. Love to hear from you. Please like me, follow me and above all, tell someone else. I would be so grateful.I love to write, all kinds of stories. I am interested in real pirates from long ago, spaceships of tomorrow and all the time travel I can get. When I am not writing, I am thinking about new stories to tell and try out. Love to attend campfires and volunteer in classrooms often. A great place to entertain and experiment on themes.Hope to be invited to your campfire one day...Have fun and keep reading, dreaming, writing and hugging those you love most.

Book preview

By A. Foster

Aka Annette Foster

A Legend from the Great Wood

This is book three in the series.

Written By: A. Foster, aka Annette Foster

Copyright by: A. Foster 2019

Illustrated by: C.A.F.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recoding, or buy any information storage, retrieval system, in any manner whatsoever, without the written permission of the Author. This includes but is not limited all images and photographs,

written permission by C.A.F.

or Ann Foster directly.

Contact for such requests, via c/o BooksbyAFoster.com.

"This is a work of fiction.

Names, characters, places, and incidents

are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,

living, dead or undead, is entirely

coincidental."

If things were different…

Thank you.

Seasons Change.

I know that now…

clearly.

In reference only

to the lost!

Arrel

The far North…

Dedicated

to old friends and new…

The heroes…,

that never let me down.

You know your names…!

Legends of the Great Wood

Book One: Runner

Drellin lives in a place, a land where just being alive is a crime. She is mixed blood. Marked and hunted, she bears the burden, RUNNER! That defines everything. No friends, no family, no one to connect to. Drellin tries to find her place in the world. 

Everyone wants a place. Everyone needs a place.

Book Two: Paladin

Our hero, from the previous story, Runner has no choice but to move on, after the death of his love.

Annon, Prince to the Isle of Kings, knight of the City of Tamdrac, fighter and more, but not enough. His true desire to revenge Drellin and become a Paladin of the Light. After losing his love to the evil of this cold world Arrel, the man continued north. He went to find Shendar the teacher and learn the ways of runners, half-humans, and breeds. When he left his homeland it was for honor and glory. Now it was for something more. He had a true purpose, a far greater cause.

Because of accident, fate or design, the big man saves and befriends Glenfel. She is the most unusual runner he had ever met so far. Come to find out she was not human at all but something different, special and unique. The future of their world Arrel may hang in the balance of both their futures.

Book Three:

Armilander, The Dragon

Our story picks up again

in the tower of…

Qualer!

Nothing, good comes from there...

If you had all the power in the world

And the only price to use it,

was the death of everything

that meant nothing to you

in the first place…

Could you,

would you,

be…, tempted?

Table of Contents

Preface - A Beginning

Chapter One - The Dragon

Chapter Two – Onara

Chapter Three – Baby

Chapter Four – Qualer

Chapter Five – Marale

Chapter Six - All things Change

Chapter Seven –Just a Stone

Chapter Eight – Lessons

Chapter Nine – The Task

Chapter Ten – Arrel

Chapter Eleven – Inside

Chapter Twelve – Tan

Chapter Thirteen – Klar

Chapter Fourteen – A Book

Chapter Fifteen – A Poet

Chapter Sixteen - A Hand

Chapter Seventeen – Ships and Sand

Chapter Eighteen – Alin

Chapter Nineteen – The Rise

Chapter Twenty - Dawn

Chapter Twenty One – Ever After

Notes and Acknowledgements

Poems

Books

Coming soon…

A Beginning…

The sound of footsteps echoed softly within the stone, towers' near pitch-black darkness. Trath's heart beat hard, fast, and altogether too loudly in his own ears. He was sure that the sound of it too, echoed against the very walls like thunder, or at least it seemed so. Trath was not a thief. He was not an intruder by his standards at all, but a seeker and a true adventurer. That gave him a kind of free reign in such matters. That is, in the way he thought of such things. Trath was respectful of the history and legend of this tower, this place and yet mindful that he was an outsider. That is something he did not want to be. That is also something he intended to change.

Qualer, an ugly past it held throughout the land, here in the cold, deep north. The silence of this great citadel had been unbroken for ages without number. The mysteries, Trath sought to possess for so long, were here, all around him. The hungry, greedy man could feel them in the air as if he could tangibly breathe them in. Somehow he strongly felt that he could and would know them all soon. It would be due to his own will and desire. A lifetime of planning, researching, and seeking was going to pay off, no doubt. It was that physically empowering. That was his dream. It had always been. Now Trath intended to manifest that yearning into a reality. No matter what it may cost, the price would be worth everything. Trath would pay gladly.

The ancient place was not as empty as it appeared. It was not...

The small but sturdy horse that had brought the wizard to the courtyard had been let loose. Trath thought he was a good beast. He had served him well. Maybe the animal would find his way to the lowlands or not. Freedom is what you make of it, he guessed. Trath had no intention of leaving. In fact, this was to be his new home forever, one way or the other. It was also a show of his commitment to his destiny. The way forward was now the only way.

The huge, double doors that marked the main hall stood menacing in their magnificence. They were carved with the features of a thousand races, most of which were long since gone from the face of this world. Time was a great leveler. The empty eyes of those similes beckoned to Trath eerily, drawing him on. It was a soundless invitation. Pictures and objects have strong meaning at times, and these were clear. Unmistakable, the motives were not hidden. They were not friendly or happy, either. They were strange and odd. In some ways beautiful, but in others... not.

The man gathered his wits. He took a long, slow deep breath and made his way across the open expanse of the promenade. It was at least a hundred paces or so. The floor was a mosaic of pictures. Water creatures. It glittered oddly and appeared to change. Of course, that could not be true. It was solid, and he was walking right on it. Carefully the man moved. He did not stumble. The shade tried to be at one with his surroundings. He kept his pace precise and measured with meaningful intent. The interloper also kept an open eye over his shoulder, but no one followed. He was alone. To the man, it did not feel that way. His instincts warned him to beware. The traps here would be lethal of course.

Beyond the opening was another larger hallway with several possible path choices. There was one to his right, two others to his left. Lastly, there was one straight on. It was the most, grand appearing. Anyone standing in his shoes would surely believe it was the correct direction to take. The walkway continued, lined with old tapestries, rotted in places, or laying on the floor. Decay. Then he would walk by others that were perfect. Sewn, embroidered scenes of mythical monsters and heroic knights, the work displayed in each, all of superior quality indeed, was everywhere. This was a bizarre place. One moment he felt it had been totally abandoned, and time had taken it to rest. In the other, it was ancient and striking, beyond all reason? Nearly timeless it appeared untouched, yet tainted.

An enchantment? Trath wondered if some power of persuasion and illusion was in force here. Some piece or fragment of a; leftover protection to keep trespassers away? That was not uncommon in tombs and places of the dead. Qualer was abandoned. Why? There were stories. Was it dead? Hum? Trath was counting that it was not. The power here was real enough if he could just...reach it.

The man did not care. He walked on with purpose. He shook off the funny feelings and refused to be deceived or misled by moving floors or both timeless and rotting tapestries. This was the summation of his finest...achievement. Trath believed he had potential and importance. Qualer was going to bring that talent to fruition. The thought of it made the evil man smile. Why evil? Because his heart yearned for power, he did not earn. He knew it. That also did not matter. Trath believed he would use everything in the end for good so it would be okay. Right?

It is what one does with it, not how 'it' is acquired. The end ever, being more valuable than the means. The man had a plan. He was unstoppable. A goal does that.

The corridor opened up into a large room. It was a meeting hall of some kind, with a grand table and chairs. That in and of itself was not abnormal. The size of them, that was the important part. They could easily accommodate a giant man of fifteen or even twenty feet tall. The wood they were made of was old and rotted. A thick layer of dust covered everything. The farther end of the hall had a giant fireplace with carved lions at each end. The beasts were as big as they would be in real life, but these were only statues. Their empty eyes followed the stranger. It could not be true, but it gave the man a chill. The fireplace itself would hold logs. Of course, it all fit, perfectly, if you were a titan. Otherwise, in comparisons to everything here, Trath was a mere child.

Beside the huge, stonework of art was another massive stairway. It was again leading up. The tower was high indeed. Trath moved slower here, as not to disturb the eons of fine sediment. It floated easily as his boots moved from step to step. He left little dancing dust devils in his passing. Slowly they died and fell back. Regardless he traversed the room with care. Was he being watched? Was he really alone? His mind focused on the moment. He was trying to hear and see everything with such care, as not to miss a detail. One small item, overlooked, could make him fail. The prowler in the dark continued upward to the main walkway.

It was so hard to control his excitement Trath could not stand it, but he did not want to make a fatal error now. He did not want to allow even the slightest chance of a mistake to occur. The energy that builds from waiting your whole life for something, and then it is close...changes, the way you think. Mistakes are made. The man knew that. He scolded himself silently and continued forward. Patience. The one word echoed back and forth in his mind.

The floor, the onyx beneath his feet was fine-looking, like everything else in the tower. Yet he paid no attention to the elegant craftsmanship. Beyond the color and flawlessness of its hard exterior, images danced. There were shades of things just below the surface. What those were, had no names. Just forms trapped in the very stone used to make the awe-inspiring, grand tower of Qualer. There were rumors, bad ones mostly. It was just a trick of the light. That is what Trath told himself and dismissed all concern. The warnings of this place were many, but the wizard did not put much weight in them. Yes, there was power here, no doubt. Whatever else? did not matter to the man. It especially did not matter to the wizard, Trath longed to be. He had always been small. This place was going to change all of that forever.

Then there was the door. Right there. It was at the top of the landing. A good twenty feet across and again that much high. All by itself. Nowhere to go to the right or left. Just the landing, and the sealed chamber. Its surface was gray and metallic. Trath had never seen anything similar. There were stones, placed in its surface, randomly? But, yet upon further examination, precisely. Not just stones, precious diamonds and rubies, used for mere decoration? It seemed so. The boldness of that revealing the makers desire to express the importance of the entrance.

Hanging onto the momentum of his actions, Trath, closed the distance. The man had arrived. Exactly where he planned to be. With all his might, he grasped the great bar that locked the opening and pulled it free with an ominous, whoosh sound. It swung wide, and Trath saw a lifetime of his imaginings come true in the space of a handful of precious moments. The room before him was full of enormous expertly polished mirrors from the floor to the ceiling. Even in the near-complete blackness, he could just make out the actual outline of his own shape. It danced across the surfaces, reflecting and re-reflecting back and forth upon their tremendous, magical façade. The room was an enormous circle. It, of course, mirrored the tower in construction style.

Trath took his first step inside, unhurriedly. Then, his second. Suddenly, with growing confidence, he went quickly forward. He stopped close to the center and stood ever so still. He waited.

He waited!

Time crawled by. Nothing. Somewhere outside, he knew it was getting darker and darker. The night was coming. The sky was full of clouds when he came in, dark, and foreboding. He was sure it would be raining by now as well. There would be a full moon, the first of the New Year. Just as Trath thought the place must be vacant and powerless, a light blinded him. It came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. With lighting speed, the panels along all the walls came instantly to life at the same, exact moment. It was incredible, a sight beyond words. The mirrors were like facets of a giant diamond. They made it appear that everything was light, and dark had nowhere to be.

Slowly, the brightness subsided. It returned to a level where the man's normal sight was restored. Boldly now, Trath glanced about the room. There was a huge chair in the center. He had not seen it before. Had it just appeared? It was a throne. A seat fit for a sovereign, a leader of men, just waiting for a body. It was the focal point of the chamber. It called to him. His heart raced, and his mind whirled with greater excitement than before if that were possible. Trath advanced and seated himself with the pomp and presence of a real lord. He was now a man above other men, coming into his own...position of authority. To rule and reign over those that could not think for themselves, by his standards. The small people that needed his guidance would get it. Trath did not have to try hard to give the proper impression. He was important; it was how he had always felt. This was the realization of a lifetime spent searching, wishing, and above all, longing for in his deepest dreams.

It was owed...to him. He was Trath.

Brilliant colors danced across each mirror in turn. He watched for a thousand heartbeats. The wizard savored the moments. He let the reality wash over him. Trath had arrived. The long pilgrimage just to get here had nearly killed him. There had been moments, few but still. He had wavered, but in the end, he had remained strong. This was happening. Right here, right now.

Trath spoke low, in a very commanding tone. It was just as he had been taught so long before. Ren had been his teacher. The crazy old man had been his benefactor in more ways than one. He had raised Trath like a father. They had lived together in this wild, lawless land of the Maralan Forest also called the North Country. He had grown up with the man, not knowing or remembering any of his past. The geezer had taken Trath in as a boy when he had been left to die in the woods. It was thought that the normals had done it. Again why? That was less important than the fact. Whoever it was thought it better the boy's fate was left to the wild wolves.

The elves had found Trath. They took him to the old man out of compassion. It was a weakness among their kind in Trath's eyes. The reason…No one knew who had left him, abandoned, or why? In the first place. So, Trath's heritage being of a skeptical nature, the tribe would not do more than save his life. They would never take him in. The old man, now that was a different story.

In direct defiance of the common folk Ren, had given Trath a life, a home, and all his knowledge before he died his untimely death. Like all good and ambitious sons' Trath had helped him find peace at the end of the road. Perhaps it had come a bit sooner then Ren would have liked, but the outcome was the same. Trath now put those studies to his own use. They will be sorry they cast me out. They will pay when I have learned all the lessons this place has to give. I will know all the secrets, and then I will rule. Smugly, Trath laughed out loud, low. It was perhaps the irony of fate that Fandran had spoken much the same sentiments.

Show me the Armilander! Trath commanded with authority and gestured toward the first mirror. The colors stopped swirling, and with great speed formed a brilliant picture. The dragon of dragons', created of myths and rainbows, the Armilander stood before him. The clarity of the image gave the impression of actual reality. A ripple of fear passed down the back of Trath's neck, but then it was quickly replaced with the force of his horrible greed. It was just an image. Not a real breathing individual. Yet, the clarity and visual effect were deceivingly alive.

Turning to the next mirror, Trath hesitated for a moment. Who next? Who would give him what he wanted, what he needed? The little man again gestured. Now, show me the past. Show me, Shendar. He will be my new teacher. The last statement was another unfortunate turn and major-twist of the fates. Shendar had stood for the Light his whole life, now his memory and image would work to serve Trath's personal desires. The adage regarding the drunkenness of power would lay the path of Trath's future into the dark. The mirror complied and moved at his command none the less. Once more, the desired surface brought forth a magically, created image, this time of another old man. He could be the brother of Ren. They looked so similar. It shook Trath to see him. Was it a cruel trick? A joke? He had killed Ren. Now in this place, he admitted it to himself. The word Killed could not be replaced with anything else, except perhaps Murdered.

Again, Trath brushed all of the ugly feelings away, in favor of his heart's desire. What did it matter to him what Shendar appeared to look like? He was the right teacher. He would know all that was needed to rule and reign. That is what Ren had told him. That is what he believed. Now he was going to claim it. All of it!

Show me the ending of magic and the beginning of all things new. Show me the Armilander's birth. The third mirror shifted and whirled for a long time in response. It finally revealed a beautiful golden dragon and a small clutch of eggs. They lay safe in a huge cavern. Thereupon a wide-open space, a huge circle of sand, warmed by a live volcano, they rested. It was far beneath the surface of the land.

Glancing about; there were still four mirrors yet awaiting Trath's command. To look upon them sent a silent message through the man's body, a thrill of power that coursed into his very being.

Seven! Trath thought to himself. Seven towers, seven mirrors, and seven worlds within the shadow of a single sun, I will rule them all. Trath smiled wide, an unpleasant grin indeed. Shendar, you will now instruct me. I want to know of the Armilander and the magic that they bring. Teach me of dragons!

The face of the old master starred back at Trath from the surface of the mirror and began as ordered. The image had no choice because it had no real life. It was merely an echo of the original, lost in the memory of the past. Now, however, it was also the slave of the future.

The castle rumbled, the world moved, and the lessons began...

Home

Chapter One

The Dragon

The night was cool and silent as the dragon clan awaited the newest clutch to hatch. The beautiful, golden mother lay restlessly by the small hard eggs, breathing ever so softly upon them. She glowed with pride, and her sharp eyes watched for the slightest movement, equally intent upon each small package before her. The promise of life and a new day for her breed was at hand. This was her crowning moment. The golden dragon had assured the survival of her race, with a new generation. That was her purpose and privilege. The massive beauty had been born the top of her line. Majestic in color, intelligent of mind, there was no other that could match her. She was perfect for her task.

Krale, the great bronze father, had perched himself upon the highest peak overlooking the Penal Valley. That was his post. Protector of his family. His eyes were glued intently as well. But for him, it was not to peer upon his children. Instead, they followed one small figure on the tight, footpath far below. It was the only thing that moved within the narrow, gorge. The worst part was that it approached without fear. Krale knew that by its gate and stride. This startled him for Krale, the oldest and firstborn to the Armilander; was not easily taken off guard. He had no knowledge, of anyone brave enough to travel this far into the vale on purpose. That is except those in his own ancient memories. Images passed to him by his line were vivid. They gave him the answer. He knew trouble, first hand.

A wizard of great power or a total fool were the choices. Who would willingly come into a dragon's realm? He preferred to think fool, but something worried Krale badly and made his own heart all too heavy. Wizards always brought bad tidings to dragons. A magic-user coming at a time when the hatching was so close meant only the worst. Krale tried not to dwell on that thought, but it consumed him none the less.

The huge beast's keen, sharp eyes slowly revealed the figure below to be human after all, or at least that in appearance. It was also a male by the scent of it too. The stink of the stranger was heady upon the air. It made Krale's own, stomach turn slightly. The giant lizard debated if it would smell better, all burned up? The intruder wore a long flowing robe of midnight blue, nearly but not quite black. There was not much else to say. Dragon's as a rule barely noticed humans or cared. But this was different. Here, in his realm, and at this time? It was unheard of.

The little figure drew close to the ground entrance of the main caves. There the stranger suddenly passed out of Krale's sight. Even from this great distance, the colossal bronze dragon could hear the intruder's footsteps still. The beast had many special and unique abilities. None of which was helping him at the moment, sufficiently with this new addition. The man continued his approach. Krale also had no doubt that it was with purpose. The definition of it? Evil was high on the list of possibilities if history was any indication.

Mornt will be at the entrance. Krale thought to himself. It gave the ruler of dragons a moment's respite. For your sake, human, you had best be a wizard, yet for mine, I would rather welcome and honor a fool. Krale breathed deeply and tried to blow out the smell of the man's scent, but it lingered. It perfumed the air like; a carcass left too long in the hot sun, not good eating. The bronze hated humans. In all his life and that of his past ancestors; there were few encounters or actually none, that benefited his breed.

A few moments passed by in agonizing slowness, as Krale awaited the piercing scream he expected from the individual. The shriek of death as the man was surely torn apart by Mornt would be forthcoming. It would be a good sound, a beautiful sound. It was not that Krale was particularly brutal in matters concerning men as a whole, but this was hatching time. The most important time for his kind. His mate even now laid waiting for the moment far below. She would give the signal of a new life. It was her right. He would then fly to the heights and trumpet the news. What news would that be? Krale pondered. Who was the unwelcome visitor that dared to disrupt the quickening?

Abruptly the world erupted in sensation. It was the tremendous scream of accomplishment directly from his mate, Sech. He could hear her; he could feel her. They were attached and joined in ways undefined by basic natural laws. They were special and unique. Dragons, on the whole, did not grow old in the same way as humans. Krale, however, had lived longer than was normally expected. He was from a first clutch. Even with the deficit of age, he had out powered and outmaneuvered all the younger males, to win his golden, queen.

Dragons, all dragons lived their lives able to fly