Justful Deception: A Dragon's Journey

By Benjamin Towe

Dragons! Justful Deception chronicles the affairs of black dragons in ancient Donothor. Intelligent and dexterous black dragons live in clashing gaggles and display mortal frailties of pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony, and sloth. Young Xollos loves a drakaina from another gaggle and pays the price of banishment by his gagglemaster father. The young dragon finds a mentor in an earlier victim of his father's deceit. Tribulation and tragedy beset Xollos. Unexpected Magick touches him. The mysterious Dreamraider disturbs his slumber and bestows gifts and power. Is she 'mellon' (friend) or 'morikotto' (dark enemy)? Xollos employs all means to right old wrongs and in so doing struggles with his conscience. He makes unusual alliances, faces old nemeses, metes out payback, gives in to lust, and strives to unite black Dragondom. Dragons will be dragons!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781728371788

Benjamin Towe

Benjamin Towe is a dedicated Whovian, crafty old Dungeon Master, and lover of all things magic and make believe. Ben is a graduate of Mt. Airy (NC) High School, Davidson College, and the University of Virginia School of Medicine. Dr Towe served five years in the US Army Medical Corps and has practiced family medicine. Doctor “T” loves reading and writing science fiction and fantasy novels. The novels of the Donothor and Elfdreams series are Doctor T’s Rx for fantasy. Children of Magick joins his literary family of Justful Deception, the Queen’s Secret, Thirttene Friends, Dawn of Magick, Lost Spellweaver, First Wandmaker, Wandmaker’s Burden, Emerald Islands, Mender’s Tomb, Deathquest to Parallan, Orb of Chalar, Chalice of Mystery, Death of Magick, and Unwonted Spellweavers. Escape to an Elfdream! Happy reading!

Book preview

Long ago…

Rejoice, o young dragon, in your youth, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth.

Black dragons dominated the skies over the Lachinor, the great southern swamp of Donothor. For eons most lived solitary lives. Drake and drakaina only came together to mate and propagate the species. Mighty Rocs, huge avian predators invaded the swamps and preyed on black dragon whelps and even small adult dragons. Competition for prey and their very survival led many black dragons to abandon their chaotic ways and cast lots together to answer the big birds’ threat. Stronger drakes led these groups called gaggles. Some gaggles were loosely organized and migratory. Others were highly coordinated and set up permanent hunting grounds and community lairs. The most prominent black dragon gaggles in the Lachinor were the Cold Cavern and Claw Mountain groups.

Black dragon drakainas produced a single fertilizer egg. Its shell was as dark as its mother’s scales. After eighty days incubation the shell began to thin and take on a grayish hue. At birth black dragon whelps stood one foot tall and five feet long with wing stubs that extended one foot from the shoulder. Black dragons reached maximum size of sixteen feet tall, eighty-five feet long, with a wingspan of eighty feet. Dragons grew stronger, more charismatic, and wiser as they aged from whelp, wyrmling, adolescent, young adult, mature adult, old adult, very old adult, to ancient. Black dragons of Donothor had powerful hind legs. Foreleg modifications included the development of elongated smooth digital talons that allowed fine manipulation. Black dragons ran on all fours but walked and stood effortlessly for extended periods on their hindlegs. Strength peaked at very old age. If the spark of life was bright enough, a few black dragons attained ancient age. Ancient dragons’ strength waned a bit, but merely standing before an ancient dragon froze lesser creatures in fear and prompted most others to bolt and run.

Xannix had excelled in his training and flew faster and learned more quickly than his fellow whelps. His gaggle’s elders marveled at his abilities as a wyrmling. His zest for life energized those about him. During adolescence, the black dragon was quick to help his comrades and steadily earned the praise of his Claw Mountain gaggle teachers. Containing his great desire of gaining independence grew ever more difficult. Finally, his forward-facing horns reached adult length, and the young wyrm finished his supervised hunting. The very young black dragon went off on a solo flight to the south and east of Claw Mountain. Bright sunlight warmed his shiny scales as he soared above the great swamp. His sunken eyes detected even the slightest movement on the ground below. His dragon senses were at their pinnacle.

Life was good.

Figures moved about in the underbrush. Xannix circled for a closer look. A brace of elves dove into the scrub. Not the best prey but better than nothing. The dragon feigned flying away and looped back toward the elves’ location. Then red light flashed all around him.

Magick had not yet touched Donothor. That changed on this sultry afternoon in the great swamp. The flash of redness heralded the arrival of a sorcerer from another place and time. The redness equally surprised the two elves who were hunting in the great swamp and the sorcerer, who had cast a great spell for the first time. His name was Boton Klarje Jhundi, the Necromancer of Koorlost and Head of the Order of Dark Sorcerers of Sagain.

Tragedy befell Boton and pushed him to attempt extraordinary measures. An artifact called the Tome of Translocation came into his possession along with fossilized shypoke eggshells needed to cast the ninth level spell encoded in the Tome. Boton studied and with any luck mastered the spell.

There was nothing left for it.

Boton applied amber to his left palm and grasped the Staff of the West Wind, one of the legendary Thirteen Staffs of Sagain. The sorcerer painstakingly muttered the incantation. The spell produced a great wave on the sea of Magick akin to the power of a True Wish. Uncertainty accompanied such Magick. The Dark Sorcerer felt his body and mind ripped through the fabric of space and time. He passed through absolute darkness, cold, void, and then vortex after vortex of color and energy. His thoughts were spinning violently out of control. Pain coursed through very nerve ending. He felt the air sucked from his lungs. Bright red light surrounded him. Then, grayness… and feelings of hopelessness, which ended when he unceremoniously hit marshy ground. Boton hungrily engulfed the fetid air of a swamp. Smells and sounds surrounded him and overwhelmed his senses. The Dark Sorcerer sloshed through shallow water on his hands and knees to get out of the open and gain cover behind some trees. But where was he?

A single little sun danced in a blue sky dotted with gray and white clouds. The single sun was much closer than the distant twins that gave light to Sagain. Flatness of the ground limited his vision. The bog extended about a hundred paces and similar flora stood on the opposite side. A large bug crawled across his hand, and he slung it away. Boton clutched the Staff of the West Wind in his left hand. The amber aided his steadfast grip.

Xannix blinked a few times. His vision cleared after the brilliant redness. Another bipedal bloke appeared below. This much taller fellow was more substantial prey than the scrawny elves. Xannix flew downward.

The sound of heavy wings alarmed Boton Klarje. The new arrival ducked behind the nearest tree.

Xannix watched intently. The tall bloke moved behind a tree. Should be an easy meal! Xannix spewed forth his gooey acidic spittle and covered him. Should be over soon!

The black dragon’s gooey acidic spittle covered him. Luckily, he had only encountered a dragon. Fortuitously, his resistance to dragon breath extended to wyrms of worlds other than his home Sagain.

The tall one moved and still drew breath. Not to worry! A claw attack should finish him. Xannix dove toward the robed figure.

The dragon swooped downward to finish what it had begun. Boton directed the Staff of the West Wind toward the approaching wyrm and stood brazenly still.

The bloke was standing still and holding up a stick. Must be in shock from the acid! Easy meal!

The dragon confidently dove toward its easiest meal ever. Xannix lowered and extended his foreleg talons. The bloke dropped to his knees.

When the beast neared, Boton dropped to his knees, raised the Staff of the West Wind, and barely touched the dragon’s left foreleg talon.

Xannix grabbed with his talons and just missed. He felt a slight contact to his left foreleg. The bloke hit him with the stick. It’d take more than a stick to chase him away from a meal! Something… wasn’t right!

His left foreleg… felt heavy.

Very heavy…

The heaviness quickly extended up the foreleg to his body. His wings… grew heavy and… he could barely move his wings!

Chest heavy…

Losing breath…

Can’t breathe…

Xannix screeched… his black scales turned to gray…

Wings… can’t move my wings…

Consciousness mercifully left the young dragon.

Boton rolled onto his back. Swamp water splashed up around him. The beast screeched, changed to dull gray color, attempted futilely to move its hardening wings, turned three revolutions, crashed to the swampy ground, and broke into pieces.

The Petrification Spell was intrinsic to the Staff of the West Wind, which was oft called the Staff of Stone. Its bearer was called Stonemaster. The black dragon was intriguingly like those he had seen on Sagain. Its forward-facing horns were odd. Now that he had dispatched the beast, Boton oriented to the new world. Nature’s laws still applied. The staff indicated west. The swamp offered no pathways. He intuitively chose to travel south.

Boton detected movement out of the corner of his eye, turned quickly, and directed the Staff of the West Wind toward the still moving underbrush. Two creatures jumped up, raised their hands submissively into the air, and declared they were elves.

Dark-eyed Fracer and gray-eyed Nylles were brothers and identical save the color of their eyes. Both elves’ eyes stared into a man’s essence. The translation power of the mighty Staff of the West Wind facilitated communication. Boton sensed rivalry between them.

The dark-eyed elf Fracer surmised, There’s no power in the Lachinor that could strike down a black dragon save that of the Banshee¢.

Boton replied, I’m not from… here. I know of no one called Banshee¢.

The Banshee¢s evil rotted the forest in the east and formed a wasteland. Men, who lived north of the swamp, called the land Donothor.

In return for guidance in the dismal swamp, the sorcerer agreed the join the brothers’ quest. The elves gave Boton some delicious trail mix, a combination of nuts, fruits, and berries. Boton gave the elves blackberries that gave immunity to black dragon’s acidic breath. The trio endured an arduous trek and progressively horrific encounters. Finally, further adventuring became too risky. Boton had seen enough of the swampy world. The sorcerer uttered a single word in a foreign tongue and vanished in a flash of blue light. The Elves’ quest failed.

Gray-eyed Nylles and dark-eyed Fracer faced off. Each blamed the other for the failure of their mission. The brothers had a long history of rivalry, and many arguments had ensued between them. The anger of brother against brother was never quenched, and it passed through their seed. Gray-eyed Nylles went west, founded a hamlet Detlor, and welcomed only elves with gray eyes. The hamlet Detlor became the center of Gray Elves’ society. Dark-eyed Fracer went north to their family’s ancestral home Black Dragon’s Horn and welcomed only elves with dark eyes. Nylles chose Nightshade as his family name, forsaking the name of Dragonhorn. The families quarreled henceforth and grew ever far apart. The peoples of the Lachinor came to call the quarrelling factions Gray Elves and Dark Elves.

Neither Fracer nor Nylles ever spoke of the mysterious stranger. Both suffered nightmares and talked in their sleep. Their somnolent ramblings made their way into campfire stories. In addition to their enmity for one another, the brothers passed down resistance to the effect of black dragon’s breath to their progeny. Elves exposed to the thick acidic goop suffered no more than the discomfort of being covered by a big glob of molasses.

Boton’s returning to Koorlost and his focal point was much less traumatic. A brilliant flash of red light heralded his arrival. The room looked just as he left it. An old man sat in an overstuffed chair and looked curiously at the returning Sorcerer.

The oldster commented, You’re back. What could you have possibly accomplished in five minutes?

Boton Klarje Jhundi never returned to Donothor. However, the telltale flashes of red light reappeared 1584, 1585, and 3585 years after the sorcerer’s visit. Blue flashes never followed the three future red flashes.

At Claw Mountain concerned gaggle members awaited in vain for the young black dragon’s return.

Xannix’s father searched.

His mother cried.

The name Xannix was painstakingly etched in the Wall of the Lost.

Explorers of the southern Lachinor returned with descriptions of a broken stone dragon. Bards sang of strange travelers. Gray Elves and Dark Elves went about their separate ways. Both sects established small hamlets. Black dragons dominated the skies and congregated in gaggles, each lead by a dominant drake. Goblins and Hobgoblins infested the swamp lands and grew in numbers. All living things avoided the dead woods.

Many generations of Black Dragons, Dark Elves, and Gray Elves lived out their lives and saw little change in the great swamp.

1

Elderly drake Pakettle now led the Claw Mountain gaggle. The Claw Mountain gaggle’s greatest rival for the dominance of Black Dragondom was the Cold Cavern Mountain gaggle. A mighty dragon named Xude solidified control of the lands around Cold Cavern Mountain and had led the Cold Cavern gaggle for most of his two hundred years. Xude’s best friend and loyal advisor was a drake named Xordor. Xordor had followed Xude since his adolescence.

Xordor stretched his wings and inhaled the humid air. Years were taking a toll on the black dragon’s body. Another wild trip into the southern Lachinor far beyond the old crater failed to discover the Stone Dragon. Old Xude obsessed with finding the legendary statue. Where Xude went, loyal Xordor followed. Their last foray into the deep swamp resulted in narrow escapes from an angry Roc and a squadron of a competing gaggle, who correctly accused them of infringing on its air space and hunting grounds.

Xude’s son Xifin, the heir apparent to leadership of the gaggle, wrongly accused Xordor of prodding his father to adventure. The opposite was true. Xordor encouraged the old dragon to curtail the excursions, but Xude would hear nothing of it. Xordor sensed the old dragon’s son was gradually usurping leadership and the old bloke’s absences made it all the easier. Xifin deeply resented Xordor’s close relationship with his father and made every effort to discredit his father’s old friend. But Xude and Xordor had shared too many battles and adventures. In their youth the duo secured the hunting grounds and made safe the lands around Cold Cavern Mountain. Cold Cavern Mountain was graced with two quirks of Nature. Within the mountain a meandering network of caves and grottos made perfect homes for nesting, growing whelps, and optimal dragon family life. An ice cavern occupied the greatest depth of the caverns. Hot mineral effervescing springs located outside the mountain proper provided great relaxation and a means for cleaning between the dragons’ scales. Over time use of the hot springs and ice cavern became limited to the elite and the leaders of the gaggle. Xude wanted them open to everyone, but Xifin and his inner circle were strong proponents of the adage that all the dragons were equal, but some were more equal than others. Xifin considered himself the most equal of all. Xifin befriended a bruiser named Big Otto and his cronies Premmin and Gerr. The heir apparent had strong desire for a beautiful drakaina named Xentissa. Xentissa preferred Xordor’s company. Xordor shared her feelings. The long adventures with old Xude kept Xordor away from her. Xifin filled her ears with untruths about his rival suitor.

Xifin insisted on a council meeting and old Xude reluctantly obliged. At the meeting Xifin expressed his concerns about his father’s absences.

Xude said, The gaggle prospers. We have food, water, roofs over our heads, and luxuries not afforded most black dragons. Appreciate what we have.

Xifin said, The gaggle needs forceful leadership, Father. You spend too much time away from Cold Cavern Mountain. For your health and the gaggle, I urge you to curtail your travels.

Xude said, Son, you are here to run the formalities. I have no need for people to kiss my a**. I willingly gave my youth to build what we have. I could not have done it without Xordor. He has shed blood and many a scale in defense of our realm. Our gaggle is safe within the mountain.

Xifin argued, Father, you are over two hundred years old. Spend more time in the hot springs. Don’t allow Xordor to talk you into these foolish forays. Searching for a statue of a dragon that probably doesn’t even exist! You could have ended up prey for a Roc.

Xude angrily responded, I make my own decisions, son. Tis most oft I who drag Xordor into adventures. The Stone Dragon exists. I know it.

Xifin threw up his wings and walked away.

Xordor spent some tender moments with beautiful Xentissa out by the hot springs. The hour was late, and the area was deserted. Her perfectly shaped head, exquisite forward-facing horns, and beautiful dark eyes only began to define her beauty. Her delicate nuzzles against his chin and soft touches to his lips sent thrills though every scale on his powerful body. Her pheromones enticed him. He was enjoying her touch when an all too familiar voice interrupted them.

Xude said, I thought I’d find you out here. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, old friend. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do with such a beauty.

Xentissa blushed. The visible skin between her shiny black scales changed from dark gray to purple. She slipped a few feet away.

Xordor said, Hello, old friend. I was just telling Xentissa of our adventure.

Xude laughed and said, Sure you were. I was young once. Time’s catching up with you my friend. You’d best make good on your pursuit of this lovely drakaina.

Xordor said, I’d like nothing more than to keep her by my side.

Xentissa said, I’d like it, too, master Xude. Would you give us your blessing?

Xude said, Sure would. But are you sure you want this scoundrel?

Xentissa said, I’m sure.

Xude said, Well, you can’t have him just yet. I’ve got a proposition for him.

Xordor silently bemoaned What now?

Xentissa said, It’s late. I should be getting inside. I’ll leave you drakes to your business. Good night, Xordor, and good night, master Xude.

The drakaina walked away.

Xude said, She’s a beauty.

Xordor added, Yes, she is. What have you got in mind? Looking for the statue again?

Xude said, No. The North. I’ve always wanted to see what’s in those mountains.

Xordor asked, Do you mean the Iron Mountains?

Xude said, Sure.

Xordor replied, My old friend, we may bite off more than we can chew. I hear lots of rumors.

Xude pressed, Well, a little look-see wouldn’t hurt. We won’t be gone long. When we get back, you can get back to what you were doing tonight. The old dragon laughed.

On the morrow Xude and Xordor were off again.

Xifin immediately spread rumors that Xordor fomented the mischief and took advantage of the elderly Xude’s friendship. The heir apparent flooded Xentissa with gifts and proposals. More significantly he inundated her ears with lies, planted evidence against Xordor, and offered suggestions of his rival’s ulterior motives.

2

Only the foolhardy risked the perilous journey through the gap connecting the lands of the East and Donothor, the land west of the mountains. Xude and Xordor encountered many beasts and learned from narrow escapes.

The inhospitable Iron Mountains provided the perfect habitat for diverse races of giants. Most Giants were big, strong, and dimwitted. Xude and Xordor encountered both solitary and communities of giants. Enmity and rivalry kept giants from getting along.

A king ruled a particularly nasty lot that lived in Red Mountain and took their name from their home. Red Giants averaged twenty-feet height and had dark hides and hair. Their great forges created immense weapons and armors. Many fires belched from the mountain. Aggressive Red Giants were fond of flesh and treasure. Their treasures included pretty gems, worthless rocks, priceless diamonds, and bejeweled chalices. Red Giants preyed in the great gap in the northern range of the Iron Mountains and resorted to biting, kicking, scratching, growling, snarling, and hunkering down in a fight. Mysterious pygmy gray dragons and red fire dragons rarely accompanied Red Giants. Red Giants bartered with assassins, pirates, and mountain dwarves, but unwary men found their way to the Red Giant menu.

Seventeen-feet-tall Ice Giants preferred cold areas and had bluish hide, gray beards, and thick bluish body hair. Ice Giants preyed on mastoangus herds and enormous giant ice slugs in the icy Iron Mountain plateau. The mastoangus were smaller than titanosteers and ate white grasses that flourished on the frozen mesa. Giant ice slugs that were numerous throughout the mountain ranges, averaged twenty-five feet in length, and survived by digesting iron that gave the mountains their name. The boneless slugs squeezed into crevices, reached the ore deposits, digested the iron, and passed the iron as gold. Men oddly coveted ice slug s**t. Giant slugs’ acidic digestive juices mimicked black dragon spittle, and the blokes could spray it up to a hundred feet. Xude and Xordor found mastoangus and giant ice slug good eating.

Fourteen-feet tall, two-headed Ettins proved that two heads were not better than one and did not have a right mind. Rare, usually solitary, nocturnal, chaotic, and evil Ettins had excellent night vision, inhabited dungeons and caves, roamed the mountains, and cooperated with red, ice, and other giants. Ettins always kept one head alert, attacked with both arms, and preferred spiked clubs and flails. The right head controlled the left arm and left head controlled the right arm. Ettins associated with bugbears and often domesticated and rode mastoangus.

Ten-feet-tall Bugbears were large goblin-like beasts with wide ranging habitat. Vicious bugbears resided mostly in caves and preferred biting and clawing to wielding weapons. Giantesses used them as laborers in kitchens.

Fourteen-feet-tall Stone Giants were masters of working stone and oft described as giant dwarves. Other giants valued them because of their abilities to work with tools. Stone Giants had a nasty disposition, preferred keeping to themselves, and demanded high wages for their work.

Jeannies had light brown hair and often found their way into the dreams of those lusting for power. A wispy red glow surrounded them and augmented the redness of their hide. Powerful Jeannies disappeared by wrinkling their noses and snapping their fingers. Jeannies neither granted wishes nor lived in bottles.

Ten-to-twelve-feet-tall Rockweilers were curious boulder-like creatures capable of undetectably blending into rock walls. Rocky appendages served as hands and feet for the highly intelligent and slow-moving beasts that lived in rocky or mountainous areas. Rockweilers commanded boulders.

Ginats were aggravating giant gnats.

Eight-to-ten-feet tall Ogres lived in the foothills. Ogres made loose alliances with anyone that promised them bounty. Ogres found strength in numbers and oft made their way to the swamps.

Xude and Xordor heard lore of Flare Giants, Storm Giants, and Cloud Giants, but never encountered the ultra-rare creatures.

Food was plentiful. Plants grew in warmer areas called thermal belts. Caves offered shelter. The traveling black dragons avoided encounters with Red Giants.

Ice Giants cultivated unusual l’orange plants. The plants produced a luscious fruit from ice and sunlight. The fruit was the size of pumpkins. Ice crystals formed on the plants’ dark blue leaves during the cold nights. Dark Elves worked with Ice Giants in the l’orange tree groves. The dragons observed the orchardists. If the ice crystals were removed, the leaves more effectively harvested the rays of the sun. Ice Giants broke the ice away from the leaves each morning. The elves did the delicate work. Xude and Xollos sneaked in and ate a few fruits. Both felt the l’oranges were the most wonderful things they had ever put in their mouths. The dragons watched from a cliff overlooking the grove of blue-leaved trees. If it was harvested at just the right time and in proper fashion, the ice crystals remained on the fruit even in the hottest climes and kept the l’orange fresh indefinitely. Only the elves knew how to do it. The dragons just snapped them off the trees and gobbled them down.

The Ice Giants caught on. The next night they were waiting and got the jump on the black dragons. The fight created quite a ruckus. Soon many Ice Giants and an ice dragon joined the fray. Xude and Xordor were badly outnumbered and sought escape. The biggest giant caught Xordor with his club and snapped off his left forward-facing horn. The dragons evaded the giants and paused to snatch four fruits that had been harvested by the Dark Elves. Ice crystals covered the sumptuous fruit. The ice dragon caught the retreating Xude’s hindlegs with a blast of icy breath. The black dragons flew away. Xude flew to the River Luumic and warmed his cold feet. The old dragon caught a chill. Xude recovered, but the illness weakened him. Xude and Xordor flew back to Cold Cavern Mountain. Xifin blamed Xordor for the gaggle leader’s illness. Healers made Xude spend some time in the hot springs. Xude hated lolling around. While the oldster recovered, Xordor and Xude spent most of their days hanging around Cold Cavern. Xude gave his son Xifin more responsibility. The old dragon grew weaker and went to his forebears in his two hundred and