N'og-Ard Chronicles: The Crowning of Nathaniel

By Graham Silvers

Nathaniel is a dreamer. He loves to go on make-believe adventures with his companion and best friend, Pól. Together, they take on the world. Nathaniel dreams of one day becoming king of the lands because the one who rules now is a tyrant. The king makes life miserable for all those who live in the lands. Nathaniel wants to become king so he can make life more comfortable for the people. One day, he is approached by the Lady in White, who sends him on a real-life adventure. Accompanied by a handful of some of the most mismatched friends, they set out to save the life of the world’s oldest living dragon, N’og-Ard. But there is an evil force at work at the same time. This force is also on the hunt for N’og-Ard. They are determined to see that N’og-Ard dies so that the Black Lord can rise in power once again. The race is on. It is also a race against time because the great N’og-Ard is dying. Who will win in the race? Will Nathaniel and his group of misfits save the day, or will evil win out? In the end, Nathaniel gets his crown. But it is not at all what you expect. Read N’og-Ard Chronicles: The Crowning of Nathaniel. Follow Nathaniel on his journey to save the great N’og-Ard and defeat the evil presence that continues to creep across the lands.

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649520777

Book preview

Chapter One

The Practical Joker

Mark my words, boy, one day, your practical jokes will be your falling! Mr. Dorchaidhe roared. Mr. Dorchaidhe towered above Nathaniel. A tall, slender man with dark wavy hair to collar length, Mr. Dorchaidhe was in the middle of his age.

Nathaniel gave Pól a disquieting stare as the smell of rotting meat from one of Pól’s special stink bombs consumed the breathable air in Dorchaidhe’s meat market.

Pól! Nathaniel exclaimed. Not again! Won’t you ever learn?

Pól had a bit of a bad habit of playing practical jokes. It was all very innocent, you see, of course, but unfortunately, Nathaniel always seemed to catch the grief for them.

But, Mr. Dorchaidhe, Nathaniel pleaded, with little hope in his voice, I—

Not now, boy! erupted Eddryd. I have order to restore! Now be off with you. And I’ll take my leave with you later! I tell you, Alvag—he glared at his wife—that boy and his friend will be the break of me yet, said Eddryd, pointing at the door as if the two who were now long from sight were still standing there.

His wife gave him a settling look. Alvag was a kind, caring woman. She was a woman who would give until it hurt and then give some more, a very nurturing type of person whom everybody considered their second mother.

Now, Eddryd, they’re just young lads having a bit of fun. She shot him a look over the top of her spectacles as she mixed dough for a batch of her favorite cookies, black walnut with dried raspberries. Alvag prided herself in her baking. She also loved to indulge in it herself a bit. Her appearance showed this, as she was a somewhat pleasantly plump woman. Oh, they’re not for me, she would claim. They’re for our little Aibreann.

Aibreann is the eleven-year old daughter of Eddryd and Alvag Dorchaidhe. She is a small frail-looking girl who never seems to fatten up even with all the nurturing given by her mother. Her mother worries that her daughter will never catch herself a man unless she fills out. Men like a healthy woman, she would tell her daughter. You don’t want to end up like poor Cliodhna. Skinny as a rail she is, beggin’ her pardon. Eat, child, eat! she would say, almost forcing food on her daughter.

Aibreann also carries the family trait of dark wavy hair just as her mother and father have. Her hair is thick with a slight ripple, the full length of it flowing down almost to her waist.

Aibreann has a certain fondness for Nathaniel. It was his slender build, blonde hair that was braided in a leather tail, and his intense blue eyes that attracted her. Hint as she may, she never seems to be able to get him to notice her. He’d rather be off on one of his make-believe adventures with that creature friend of his. Boys! she would say with her nose in the air as if girls were far more superior than were boys.

Aibreann was born in the month of April and thus was named after the month in which she was born.

Having a bit of fun at my expense, I tell you, said Eddryd, fisting his chest. Why, as we speak, customers are flocking to the streets for a bit of fresh air! Why, they’ll be turning their noses up at my fine meats now, surely, said Mr. Dorchaidhe with exasperation. Why can’t he be like other children and have a listen to my stories? Keep him out of trouble, I’d say. He’d be all the better for it, too, knowing what’s going on around him.

Alvag stopped stirring and adding the walnuts and dried raspberries. She looked over her spectacles again at Eddryd. Nathaniel is a dreamer, Eddryd. He has his own world to entertain him for now. Give him time. He’ll come round, I’m certain of that.

Ahg! said Eddryd, swatting the air toward the entryway of his shop as if to shoo away an annoying pest. I’m going outside to try to reason with these people now. I guess I’ve no reason to say keep an eye on things while I’m gone. There’s no one inside to keep an eye on thanks to those two meddlesome troublemakers.

Honestly, dear I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately. You’re so soft-spoken normally. Whatever is the matter? Alvag said, shaking her head in despair.

I’m sorry, Alvag. Must be the weird goings-on lately that have me on edge.

Eddryd left the shop, grumbling to himself, and Alvag went back to mixing her cookie dough. She began humming a melody. She wasn’t sure what the melody was, but she knew she had heard it somewhere before. It would come to her one day. Strange, she thought as she began rolling the dough into small balls and placing them on a stone for baking.

The melody was quaint and relaxing. It had a calming and soothing effect, she thought. Yet, it was a melody with sorrowful overtones. But she hummed it with a smile as she continued her work.

April had announced itself pleasantly, bringing with it warm rains and unseasonably mild temperatures. The sun was shining high in the sky, and you could feel its warmth upon you. Winter had fled from the mountains, leaving their crowns snow covered like icing on a sweet bun. It was an everlasting reminder that winter would one day return when awakened from its autumn slumber. The people of the lands called the snow-covered peaks Eibhear, winter country.

The great floods that occupied the Plains of Raenil would soon be departing once the sea opened its mouth to swallow the spring melt from the Mountains of Fentoru. And preparations for Dalziell, the spring Festival of Crops, were already well underway. Early preparations were being made for this year’s festival, as it would mark the one hundredth anniversary of the festival. This year’s festival would prove magnificent, to say the least.

Nathaniel and Pól raced away from Dorchaidhe’s meat market, hearts pounding, down the road, dodging villagers, and knocking parcels from their hands in their haste to get through the masses as they neared the end of the street where Mr. Gabha’s blacksmith shop was at the northeast end of the village.

Whoa, boys, slow down, bellowed a man with a booming voice, pushing a long, narrow, flat piece of metal deep into a hot fire. He was holding a very large hammer in his right hand. He looked as big as a cave troll.

Creidne Gabha was the village smithy. He was a very large man with a massively muscular body and a head full of black hair with a beard and mustache to match. He kept his hair in a large puffy ponytail. Keeps me cooler when ahm workin’, he says.

His skin had bronzed from long hours over the fire, and it glistened with sweat-like dewdrops on the early morning grass.

Gone and got yer sefs in a bit o’ trouble, ahm thinkin’ agin, eh, boys? Creidne ventured as he wiped his brow and laid the hammer on the anvil.

It was Pól again, Mr. Gabha. He and his practical jokes exclaimed Nathaniel.

Ah should’a figgered as much, Creidne said, somewhat sniggering to himself, his body jittering all over like a bowl of jelly as he laughed.

Mr. Gabha! Nathaniel snapped. Don’t laugh at him. It will only make things worse. I’ll never convince him to stop at this rate.

Ahm sorry, Nathaniel, yer right. Ah jes fin’ yer li’l buddy here kind’o funny sumtimes.

Nathaniel sighed, thumbing his chest. Not so funny for me, he said, shaking his head.

You have to admit, my friend, that was one of my best yet, boasted Pól as he climbed to the top of a nearby bench to inspect a length of silver braid that lay coiled neatly in the center.

Nathaniel rolled his eyes and sighed heavily as he sat on the end of the bench. Pól was busy testing the weight of the braid and planning out how he was going to smuggle this precious item out of the smithy’s shop.

Jes’ you be leavin’ thet braid alone now, y’hear? It’s a special request from th’king his sef, y’see. It’s fer this year’s Dalziell. Ah got t’have it done a’for then. Th’king, he pays me better’n most smitties fer good silverwork, an’ ah aim t’keep it thet way.

I was just admiring it, Pól said with a hint of untruth in his voice as he tested its weight again. Besides, what’s the harm? I was just looking at it anyway.

Ah know what’s goin’ on in thet head o’yers. Yeh don’ fool me fer a minute. You Ermineans’er all alike, yeh are. Yeh can’ keep yer hands off’a shiny stuffs. It’s like a sickness wi’yeh. Nex’ thing y’know, you’ll be runnin’ off wi’it. Yeh see sumthin’ shiny, and yeh jes haf’ta have it. Yeh can’ hep yer sef.

Creidne crossed the shop to a wall half covered with shelves, the other half of which was filled with hooks holding a most impressive collection of keys. It was Mr. Gabha’s hobby, collecting keys.

Creidne pulled down a jar from one of the shelves and drew out a steel ball bearing. Setting the jar back on the shelf, he returned and rolled the steel ball across the bench to Pól who snatched it up ever so quickly from its path.

Here, take thet an’ leave thet braid alone now.

Oh, thank you, kind sir, such generosity, said Pól, bowing graciously, as he began rolling the bearing back and forth between his fingers. Look, Nathaniel, I can see myself, exclaimed Pól as he conceitedly admired his distorted reflection in the ball. Very heavy for its size, Pól said in amazement as he tossed the bearing from hand to hand.

Tell me now, lads, wha’ adventures yeh got conjured up fer t’day? queried Mr. Gabha as he went back to pounding out a blade for a new sword. The sound of the hammer rang out as it met the piece of metal on the anvil. Nathaniel and Pól put their hands over their ears to muffle the loud clang.

Oh, you know, replied Nathaniel, the usual kingdoms to rule and dragons to slay.

Mr. Gabha stopped hammering for a moment, and all was quiet. Ain’t yeh makin’ ready fer th’spring crisial hunt?

Oh, I was looking forward to it, but my mother is staying behind with some of the others this year making preparations for the festival. Seeing as it’s the hundredth year and all, she wanted to be here so she doesn’t miss anything. So, I guess we’re not going this time, said Nathaniel with a discouraged look.

Now don’ yeh fret none, lad. Yeh can go wi’me if yeh like. I got pleny’o room, seein’ is it’s jes me. Providin’, thet is, if’n yer mother sez it’s aw’right n’all.

Really? Really? You mean it? I’ll go, I’ll go, and thank you, Mr. Gabha, shrieked Nathaniel excitedly.

Nathaniel and Pól lifted themselves off from the bench and bounced back out into the street. Their feet seemed not to touch the ground as they headed back toward the orchards.

On’y if’n yer mother sez it’s okay, I said, hollered Creidne after them.

Oh, she will, don’t you worry about that, Mr. Gabha, she will, Nathaniel called back over his shoulder.

Them two, thought, Mr. Gabha shaking his head. Always in such an all-fired hurry to git sumwhere. Heh, heh. He sniggered again as he thought about the practical joke Pól had played on Mr. Dorchaidhe down the road. He went back to his hammering.

The clanging became faint as Nathaniel and Pól put distance between them and the smithy’s shop.

Chapter Two

Surprise Attack

Essylt Brynach was a petite pretty woman with long straight golden hair to about mid back. She was fair skinned and had large brown eyes. Though she is a petite woman in physical appearance, she is strong of will. She was hard at work in the orchard pruning dead limbs from the hazelnut trees. She figured the trees would produce better if they weren’t trying to feed the dead branches. They could put forth better efforts with the ones that would bear fruits and produce a healthier crop. At least that was her way of thinking.

Anyway, working in the orchard made her happy, so she continued on, humming to herself softly as she worked. What was it about that melody? It was an almost enchanting melody. It was a quaint little melody with a very soothing, calming effect. Yet, somehow, it was a sad-sounding melody with sorrowful overtones. The melody was very familiar to her, but she couldn’t remember where she had heard it. It would come to her one day, she thought.

Work in the orchards seemed overwhelming at times. Soon she would be finished with the pruning but only to go on to the next task. Work seemed never to be done in the orchards. She didn’t mind, though. She loved her work in the orchards. It was peaceful there.

As Nathaniel and Pól rounded the bend in the road, Nathaniel’s house came into view. They passed through the gate at the northwest end of the orchard. Nathaniel spotted his mother down the lane at the edge of the hazelnut trees. Mother, Nathaniel called out.

Hello, boys. What kind of mischief have you been into today?

Really, Mother! What makes you think we’ve been into any mischief today?

Nathaniel… His mother’s voice was drowned out by the sound of rushing wind, and an intense heat from a sudden burst of flames overtook them.

Look out, Pól! exclaimed Nathaniel as he pulled Pól to the ground. That was close. You could have been burned alive.

A great winged shadow passed over them on the ground as the dragon blocked the sun for the moment. A rush of wind from the dragon’s wings brought debris up from the ground and swirled it about, like a little tornado that came to rest quickly.

Mother, run! cried Nathaniel. Hurry!

Where did that dragon come from? And what is he doing in Logan’s Hollow? asked Pól. He just seemed to appear out of nowhere.

I don’t know, Nathaniel replied, with certain fear in his voice. But we can’t sit here thinking about it though. Come on, we need to take cover. We have to do something before someone gets hurt.

Just then, an explosion shook the ground when the dragon shot a fiery blast at a walnut tree, which caught fire immediately as he circled around to find his prey.

Mom’s not going to be happy about that. Nathaniel saw that his mother had already taken cover in the vineyard and was working her way between the trellises toward the north end of the orchard. From there she could get to the gate at the northwest corner of the orchard where the entrance to the root cellar was. She would be safe there.

As the dragon circled to make another swipe at them, Nathaniel and Pól ducked behind a large butternut tree to plan. The dragon was unaware of where his prize was now. This made him furious. He breathed fire at a nearby hazelnut tree and set it aflame, which gave Nathaniel and Pól quite a start. The dragon circled again. Nathaniel and Pól made their way quickly into the cherry trees before the dragon circled back on them.

We have to think of something fast. We can’t keep dodging him in the orchards, cried Pól, or he’ll burn up the whole place.

The dragon circled again. This time, a plum tree burst into sudden flames very near the cherry tree that Nathaniel and Pól were huddled against. A second blast followed the first quickly and met with piping from the irrigation system, shattering it and sending pieces of it hurling in all directions.

Mom’s not going to like that either. Come on, I have an idea! exclaimed Nathaniel. It’s a long shot, but if we can just get him to fly between the old apple tree stump and the king post in the fence, he should be pinned down long enough for us to overtake him. It’s too narrow for him to get through without getting stuck. We also have to get us there in one piece. Come on. Nathaniel tugged at Pól’s hand.

Together they ducked behind another cherry tree, cautiously moving their way north toward the apple trees. The dragon circled again. This time the cherry tree they had just left lit up in a flaming inferno.

That was too close for comfort. We need to move quicker, urged Nathaniel.

I’m with you. I’m curious, though, just how do you propose we get him to fly between the old stump and that fence post? questioned Pól.

Let me see, said Nathaniel, tapping his chin. Nathaniel shifted his stare from the sky down to Pól.

Pól felt an uneasiness building inside him when he saw the look that Nathaniel was sending him. Oh, no. No. Not me, not this time, hesitated Pól as he started to inch his way away from Nathaniel.

Don’t you see, Pól, you’re the perfect lure. You could get his attention over by the stump. You’re small. He would have to fly close to ground. And best of all, dragons especially like Ermineans. He wouldn’t be able to resist you.

Well, thank you for that. I must say that’s very comforting, really, but the thought of becoming that dragon’s dinner is a bit unsettling, if you get my meaning. Let’s come up with a better plan, said Pól nervously.

It’s the best plan we’ve got, Pól. Besides, you’ll be fine, assured Nathaniel. If I see any signs of trouble, I’ll draw his attention away from you until you’re safe.

Then what about you? questioned Pól.

Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay, now go, go! Try to stay in the brush. It will help keep you out of his sight, prompted Nathaniel as he gave Pól a nudge.

I don’t like this, Pól said as he crept forward toward the east edge of the cherry tree stand. From there, he could safely dodge into the vineyard and try to make his way north toward the apple trees.

Why do I always have to be the bait? asked Pól as he stopped and turned back toward Nathaniel. Nathaniel gave him another nudge. Okay, okay, I’m going. No need to get pushy.

Try to stay out of his sight until you reach the stump, whispered Nathaniel.

Try to stay out of sight, he says, Pól mumbled to himself as he moved on reluctantly. He knew his friend Nathaniel was right. No dragon could resist fresh Erminean! I know, I know, now be quiet, hushed Pól.

Pól made his way slowly toward the edge of the cherry stand, ducking behind trees and in and out of brush. Fortunately for Pól, he was small and could conceal himself easily. He was also very cunning and fast. This would come in very handy right now. Little by little, he drew nearer the edge of the cherry stand.

Nathaniel was moving north from tree to tree. He would try to reach the apple stand before Pól got into position.

Little by little, Pól crept his way cautiously along, dodging from thicket to thicket and shimmying under the piping of the irrigation system, until finally the lane was the only thing between him and the vineyard. The dragon was still circling above the orchard searching for Nathaniel and Pól and would roar out his displeasure as he passed over.

Just behind Pól, another cherry tree caught fire from the enraged dragon as he swooped by. Pól’s heart was racing now. He had to get across the open lane without being seen. Pól kept a close eye on the dragon. Then he saw his chance to dart across the lane when the dragon circled away for the moment, readying himself for another pass over the orchard. Like a streak of lightning, Pól charged across the lane.

Fortunately for Pól, the fence at the edge of the vineyard had openings just large enough for him to slip through with a fair degree of ease. But rather unfortunately, Pól did not notice that the opening that he had picked to run through in his hurried fashion was much smaller than any of the others. When he finally realized his mistake, it was too late. He was moving too fast to slow down and went headlong through the opening. Like an arrow striking stone, he was stopped dead in his tracks. He was indeed stuck. He wriggled this way and that, trying to free himself. It was no use. The dragon would surely catch sight of him and make a tasty little appetizer out of him.

Oh, why do I always let him talk me into this? I am truly in a fix now, I’ll say, thought a worried Pól. What am I to do? he asked himself.

The dragon would soon be coming into view. There would be no escape this time. Frantically he twisted and wiggled, but to no avail. His fur became snarled in the hemp ties that held the fence together. The more he moved, the more entangled his fur became as he wriggled about. He could feel the pull on his fur every time he moved. He couldn’t let that deter his efforts. He must break free.

As he looked around for something, some thought that might help him out of this fix, he could hear the beat of the dragon’s strong wings growing louder. Then Pól noticed the tie on the fence. If he could just untie it and loosen the support at the opening. A glimmer of hope came to Pól. If only he could just get one arm free, but there wasn’t much time. He would have to hurry. Fortunately, Ermineans have very loose skin. Pól began to turn his body. It was as if he were turning inside his own skin. He twisted until his right arm was in a corner of the opening. Then he pulled slowly, working his arm back and forth. Finally, his arm was free.

There’s no time left, he thought. I have to try, he told himself. He reached the tie and began fumbling with the knot. It was tight, but with every tug, it reluctantly moved just a tiny bit. Louder and louder, the sound of the wingbeat grew. Pól was sure he could feel the dragon’s hot breath on the back of his neck.

All of a sudden, the dragon came out over the lane very near to where Pól was caught. The dragon caught sight of him but was already passing over the vineyard. He circled around quickly to attack.

This will never do, Pól said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue. He tugged harder and more frantic. The dragon was drawing near again. He could feel the rush of the wings. The dragon would be on him within seconds. Finally, the knot gave way and with no time to spare.

He shot from the hole as an arrow leaves the bow and scurried away just before the spot he had been stuck in burst into flames. He turned left, heading north, concealing himself in the grapevines.

The dragon circled away, angry though just a little amused at the fact that this quarry had outsmarted him. The Erminean would surely prove a challenge. But certainly no match for a mighty dragon such as I, the dragon thought. The dragon circled higher and higher over the orchard and finally leveled off. From such a height, he would surely spot any movement below. He began to scan the grounds in the orchard as he circled.

Pól slowly and cautiously moved toward the end of the vineyard, picking bits of hemp from his fur as he went. I shall certainly need grooming after this episode, he thought as he plucked another bit of hemp. I must also tell Nathaniel’s mother that her fence is in need of repair.

Pól made a mental note of this as he moved on. From time to time, he halted and froze when the dragon circled his way. Fortunately, the height at which the dragon circled made it easy for Pól to see him as well. It was a small miscalculation on the part of the dragon that Pól was using to his advantage.

Nathaniel had just left the spot where he and Pól had separated. He had started off to the north toward the apple stand when the dragon passed over him. Nathaniel had hidden behind a cherry tree in the last row. Beyond this lay the path that separated the cherry trees from the pear trees. He was about to move from the cherry tree and make his way across to the pears when the dragon very quickly circled around again, passing over along the same path as he had just flown.

That’s strange, thought Nathaniel. Why would he come round so quickly again? And then Nathaniel thought, Pól! It’s Pól. The dragon must have spotted him. He had not seen what Pól had gotten himself into, but somehow, he knew there was trouble. If it involved Pól, it involved trouble!

Nathaniel heard the blast of fire as he started back toward the vineyard. But then the dragon soared away, sounding very angry.

He got away! Nathaniel thought with confidence. He must have. Why else would the dragon sound so furious? Nathaniel made his way toward the lane between the orchard and the vineyard. Quickly he darted from one tree to the next. He saw that the dragon had circled very high and leveled off. He must be searching for Pól, thought Nathaniel. Nathaniel used this distraction to his advantage. It was really quite easy, he thought as he moved from tree to tree. Finally, Nathaniel was at the edge of the cherry stand. He couldn’t risk being seen by the dragon now. He watched as the dragon made another pass overhead. When the dragon circled away, Nathaniel made his move. He stepped out into the lane and saw that the fence was ablaze. There was no sign of Pól. Now Nathaniel had to believe that his friend was indeed all right and was making his way toward the old apple stump. With that thought in mind, he disappeared quickly into the cherry stand. And not a moment too soon, the dragon passed over once again, but Nathaniel was safely out of sight.

Nathaniel headed north again toward the apple trees, ducking behind trees each time the dragon made another pass. At one point, Nathaniel thought the dragon had spotted him because he hesitated in his flight for an instant and then flew on. He must have spotted a rabbit mistaking it for Pól, thought Nathaniel. He would soon be at the edge of the cherry trees and would have to cross the path between the cherry trees and the pear trees. Fortunately, it was somewhat narrow and could be traveled swiftly. Still, he must be careful. A dragon has a keen eye and is quick to move. When the dragon circled away again, Nathaniel dodged across the narrow path into the pear trees. He would soon reach the apple trees and wondered if Pól had made it. Surely, he did, thought Nathaniel.

Nathaniel kept moving through the trees, keeping the trees between him and the dragon at all times. Nathaniel knew he had the advantage with the dragon searching so intently for Pól.

Very soon, Nathaniel was at the edge of the pear trees and had quickly made his way across the path into the apple trees. The trees in the apple stand were smaller than those in the other stands. He would have to be much more careful moving through this lot as he could very easily be spotted. Cautiously, he made his way toward the old apple stump. How would he know if Pól had made it? He had forgotten to tell Pól that he would give the signal when he was in position. Hopefully Pól would realize it and give the signal when he was ready. It was just about that time when Nathaniel heard a short series of whistling. Good ole Pól. Never lets me down.

Nathaniel was now in view of the old apple stump. He thought back to when that old apple tree used to bear more fruit than any other in the land. Just a couple of years ago, it was struck by lightning and was destroyed. Essylt had left the old stump there in hopes that one day it might send forth a new shoot. But those hopes were fast fading. Nathaniel’s mother was always scolding him for playing around that old stump.

How can it rest if you’re always climbing around on it? she’d ask. It needs its rest if it is ever to sprout new life, his mother would say.

So, Nathaniel would humor his mother and come down off the stump, only to get scolded once again when he was caught climbing on it another time.

Nathaniel spotted Pól across the lane where he had positioned himself against the king post in the gate across from the old apple stump. Nathaniel was ready. He gave the return signal to Pól, a wavering whistle sound. Everything was going according to plan. Pól had waited until the dragon circled away from him and then positioned himself in the lane between the stump and the king post. It was a narrow space between the stump and the post. Just right for catching low-flying dragons, thought Pól. At least he hoped so anyway.

When the dragon came round again from the west, Pól began jumping up and down, chattering loudly. The dragon heard the noise and caught sight of Pól, and he turned. The dragon sent forth a fierce roar that shook every nerve in Pól’s tiny body. The dragon went into a steep dive as he circled round. Down, down the dragon dove with the speed of lightning. Just when it seemed he would crash into the earth, he pulled out, leveling just above the ground in the lane between the orchard and the vineyard. He was headed directly for Pól. Pól held his position, thinking, Not yet…not yet.

The dragon was closing fast. Pól could feel his hot breath, and the sound of the wings beating was almost deafening. Then just as the dragon opened its gaping mouth to snatch up his prize, Pól scurried quickly behind the old apple stump. The dragon realized then that he had been outsmarted again, and he began to pull up. But it was too late. He could not pull up in time, and he slammed between the stump and the post, shaking the ground like a tremendous earthquake, his flight brought to a sudden halt. Pól and Nathaniel were sent rolling backward from the jolt.

The dragon was trapped and furious. Fire shot out from the dragon’s mouth in all directions as the dragon’s head swayed and thrashed back and forth.

Quickly, Nathaniel, cried Pól. It won’t hold him long.

Nathaniel helped Pól to his feet. Hurry, Nathaniel.

I am, cried Nathaniel as he scrambled up to the dragon from behind, avoiding a near miss of the dragon’s tail as it whipped by.

Nathaniel stopped at the old apple stump and stared at the dragon. He had never really seen a dragon this close before. It was almost mesmerizing him as he glared at the dragon. How hideous, he thought. Such rage, as he had never seen before in a creature.

Nathaniel, cried Pól urgently, what are you waiting for? The dragon was already working his way loose. There’s not much time! He’ll be free any minute! Pól began trembling nervously at the thought of becoming lunch for the dragon.

Sorry, my friend, I don’t know what happened, Nathaniel said, his mind clearing.

Nathaniel quickly dashed around the dragon’s lashing tail. He began climbing up onto the dragon, first onto the massive left hind leg. The dragon kicked hard and sent Nathaniel tumbling off onto the ground. Nathaniel scrambled to his feet and moved toward the dragon again. As the dragon’s tail whipped by, the tip caught Nathaniel’s shoulder, just nicking it, and he cried out. It was a small wound, but it burned badly. This dragon was of the kind whose tail was equipped with a venomous spike. Fortunately for Nathaniel, the poisonous spike had only grazed him. Had the spike been planted, Nathaniel would be dead in seconds. Nathaniel made his way back up onto the hind leg of the dragon again, this time clinging tightly to the edges of the dragon’s scales. The dragon kicked hard again. This time Nathaniel held his ground. He carefully made his way up onto the dragon’s back, holding tight the whole way. With every movement the dragon made, he was closer to freedom.

Pól, who had been surveying from behind at a distance, suddenly had a thought. What am I thinking? Pól asked himself. This was utter madness. Nonetheless, Nathaniel was his friend. With that thought, Pól hurried around the dragon. The dragon was still thrashing his head around, sending fire in all directions. Pól would have to be careful. He scurried out in front of the dragon and began chattering loudly. The dragon spotted Pól and lashed out at him. He was just out of reach of the dragon’s jaws. The plan had worked. The dragon’s attention was drawn away from escape. Well, at least for the moment anyway. Now all Pól had to do was avoid being burned alive while Nathaniel finished the job.

Nathaniel realized what his friend was doing and took advantage of this. He crawled quickly up the back of the dragon. He was now standing between the huge wings on the dragon’s shoulders. Nathaniel drew his sword and raised it high in the air. Then the dragon began to turn his head toward Nathaniel. And, with as much strength as he could muster, Nathaniel brought the sword down hard at the base of the dragon’s long neck. The sword sank deep, and the dragon roared out in an agonizing pain.

The sound of Nathaniel’s staff splitting the dead wood of the old apple tree stump rang through the orchards, as did the voice of Nathaniel’s mother.

Nathaniel! exclaimed Essylt. How many times must I tell you not to play around the old apple stump? It must be treated with kindness if it is ever to bring forth new growth. Come now, give me a hand with the raking. We have to free the ground of last year’s debris and allow it to breathe.

Nathaniel jumped down off the old apple stump, and he and Pól trailed behind Nathaniel’s mother a good distance.

What does she mean allow the ground to breathe? asked Pól quietly so Nathaniel’s mother could not hear.

Nathaniel stopped walking and put his hand beside his mouth as if to hide his words. Oh, she thinks if the ground can breathe that her trees will be happier and give her a bigger harvest. Sometimes I think she needs to stop and breathe once in a while, Nathaniel said, rolling his eyes and pointing his thumb in his mother’s direction.

Nathaniel, did you hear me?

Coming, Mother. Let’s go Pól. Come give us a hand, won’t you?

You’re on your own this time, my friend. I’ll take slaying of make-believe dragons any day over raking. Besides, it’s getting late, and I want to get home before dark. Things are getting creepy at night lately, and I don’t want to get caught out in the cold, if you take my meaning, Pól said anxiously.

You’re right. What do you suppose is happening? People are acting awfully strange lately, locking and bolting their doors and windows. You’d think the Black Lord was rising again or something, suggested Nathaniel as he pointed his thumb toward the Dark Lands.

Nathaniel! Pól snapped. The shock of Nathaniel’s suggestion made his eyes to be as big as platters. He began backing away as if from some unseen evil. It is bad luck to make mention of him, he said, crouching as he looked around nervously as if someone were listening in.

I don’t know what all the bother is. He has not been heard from since the time before time, except in stories. No one from our time has ever seen him, except maybe the ancients. They’ve seen everything, said Nathaniel, throwing his arms up. Sure wish I could meet one of those ancients, said Nathaniel hopefully. I bet they’d have better stories to tell than that old Mr. Dorchaidhe any day.

The voice of Nathaniel’s mother suddenly interrupted their conversation, and it gave them a start. Nathaniel, are you coming or not? There isn’t much light left.

Well, see you tomorrow, Pól. Let’s meet at the south branch of Blayne’s Pass near the Hills of Cabhán.

Okay, but don’t forget your horseshoe nail, prompted Pól. We don’t want any trouble from those pesky faeries. The Tylwyth Teg will stop at nothing to make things difficult for us. They’re a nasty lot, those faeries are.

Right. Hey, what do you say we have a bit of fun with those faeries tomorrow, Nathaniel said with a wide grin.

Nathaniel, my friend, you’re asking for trouble.

Perhaps you’re right. But all the same, it’ll be fun. C’mon, what do you say?

Oh, I don’t like it one bit, my friend.

It will be all right, you’ll see. We’ll have a lot of fun. So, see you tomorrow when the sun is highest then, Pól?

Tomorrow then. And with that, Pól hurried off to the river’s edge, and turning west, he disappeared into the riverside brush.

Chapter Three

The Dragon Slayer

Nathaniel followed his mother to the toolshed near the gate where he and Pól had first entered the orchard. He removed two rakes and, handing one to his mother, finished out the day helping her with her work in the orchard.

Finally, with very little light left by which to see, they returned the rakes to the toolshed and, after locking the shed door, closed the gate behind them and went into the house through the back door. Nathaniel’s mother began a pot of mutton stew, and together they settled in for a warm supper near the fireplace before retiring for a good night’s sleep.

Nathaniel leaned his staff against the headboard of his bed. His mother tucked him in for the night, and then she sat for a moment on the edge of his bed.

Mother, why do people get nervous when someone talks about the Black Lord? Nathaniel asked quietly.

Nathaniel, have you not listened to any of Mr. Dorchaidhe’s stories? You must understand that the Black Lord, she said, dropping her voice and catching her breath with a hand on her chest, hesitating for a moment, looking around as if to make sure no one were listening in on their conversation, the Black Lord was an evil beyond evil. He controlled every living thing when he reigned. If they did not abide by his wishes, do as he ordered, they were punished, made to go through horrible torture. The ones that died undergoing those hideous tortures, well, they say that they were the lucky ones. His memory lives on even though he is thought to be dead.

Thought to be? asked Nathaniel. Why do you say that?

Nathaniel, we have been through this all before. You know that legend has it that there was a great battle between the Black Lord and his once faithful dragon. Somehow, the dragon was able to overpower the Black Lord, though I do not know how that part of the story goes. In any case, the Black Lord, as I have told you, was overpowered, and though his physical form was destroyed, it is said that his life force energy still exists in the Mountain of Dunstan, waiting for his servants to return to him that which he needs so that he may rise once again. It is said that this life force is still strong enough to control those who remain faithful to him.

You speak of the mountain on Ailsa Craig in the Dubh Marsh. I know the one. I heard Mr. Dorchaidhe speak of it. He says there lurks evil in that place. Nathaniel grimaced.

It is the very one of which I speak, replied his mother.

But, how can he control anyone if there is only an energy left?

That I do not know. Some say that the life force is strong enough to command those who were the most devoted to the Black Lord and continued on to do his bidding. They are the ones who are said to protect him. It is said that those who are empowered by his evil are searching.

For what? Nathaniel sat up.

They say that there still lives the dragon. The father of all the dragons to whom the Black Lord gave a part of his soul.

That would help explain why dragons hate us, suggested Nathaniel.

Yes, I suppose it would, wouldn’t it? Essylt pondered. Anyway, they search for this dragon. Legend has it that if the dragon dies, the Black Lord will rise to ultimate power. And those who are still empowered by the Black Lord go in search of this dragon to collect its scales. This, they say, is where the piece of the Black Lord’s soul exists. Dragon scales possess powerful magic abilities. If the part of his soul were to be returned to him in the form of dragon’s scales from this particular dragon, then the Black Lord would rise again to ultimate power, and he would become eternal. Nothing would stop him then. The dragon, they say, is near death. It is fabled that a hermit who goes by the name Sionán, who is said to be the most faithful of the Black Lord’s minions, is the one who searches for the dragon. He searches for the dragon to destroy it so that his master may rise again. Who would ever have thought that a dragon’s life should be spared? Your father would not hear of it! He is Ametheon, Lorcán, as he is known, the mightiest of the dragon slayers. Remember, your father once fought the very dragon of which we speak.

Tell me the story again, Mother, tell me, please? You know the one I speak of. Nathaniel sat up in his bed and tugged at her arm.

Nathaniel, how many times can one listen to the same story? Besides, it is such a long story, and I grow tired tonight.

Please, Mother! begged Nathaniel.

All right, it looks as though I shall get no rest myself until the story is versed once more. Very well, my son, but I shall spare no expense to finish quickly. His mother began, It was almost exactly eight years ago now. Your father was summoned by Sezni, the most powerful of the ancients, to travel to the Land Beyond the Mountains. There he would confront the oldest living dragon in the world. This dragon was singly responsible for the spawning of all of the other dragons of the world, a fierce and powerful dragon is he, and his name is N’og-Ard. He would not be so easy to slay. But, your father is a great dragon slayer. If there was a way to defeat N’og-Ard, your father would find it.

I’ll be a great dragon slayer like he is one day, Nathaniel said, stabbing an imaginary sword in the air.

Indeed, returned his mother with a reassuring pat on the head, her brow raised.

Please continue, Mother, said Nathaniel anxiously.

Yes, well, where was I? Oh, yes, your father, well, he was determined to defeat the one called N’og-Ard at any expense if he was to maintain his reputation, you understand. Sezni assured your father safe passage through Dálach’s Ford, a narrow pass where the Mountains of Aileach and the Mountains of Fentoru nearly join. He would travel beside the River of Wealth along the north branch of Blayne’s Pass, which lies directly east of the river. That was the quickest way to the Land Beyond the Mountains. The problem was that evil and troublesome creatures guard the pass and let no one travel it. It is said that the Black Lord controls those beings.

What sort of creatures, Mother?

Really, Nathaniel, why must you ask questions to which you already know the answer?

Please, Mother, what sort of creatures?

Oh, very well then. The creatures of which I speak, as you already know, are those vicious little creatures, those evil and loathsome redcaps. She had a sickly look on her face as she spoke of them. Are you content now? The very thought of those vile little creatures sickens me.

Sorry, Mother. I know I shouldn’t prompt you, but I do find it rather amusing, the look on your face at the very mention of them. Nathaniel sniggered.

Nathaniel! Do you wish to hear the rest of the story or not, protested his mother with a disconcerting look.

Oh, yes, please, Mother! I shall not interrupt again. Please continue.

Well then, all right, but you must promise.

I promise, Mother, now please continue.

And she began again. Without the granting of safe passage through the ford, your father would quickly have been over taken by… she hesitated, by those creatures. His mother wrinkled her nose. "The only other way to the land beyond the mountains was by way of Kent Pass. But to travel this path would take far longer as he would have to travel round the southernmost foothills of the Mountains of Aileach. From there, he would have to travel far to the north passing the whole of the mountain range. Indeed, Kent Pass is easily traveled and is a friendly path to be certain, but as with all trouble involving dragons, as you know, time could not be spared. So, when it came time to make the journey through the ford, Sezni cast a spell on all creatures in the ford. This spell put all the creatures to sleep. But it would only be for a brief period. Your father would need to make haste because as I said, these creatures were empowered by the Black Lord. He would release them from the spell of sleep once he realized that a spell had been cast. And that time would not be long.

In any case, you father had nearly completed the journey through Dálach’s Ford when he heard the sound of falling rock nearby. The redcaps had awakened and were now merging in on your father. The ford’s end was in sight, and the creatures would not venture outside the ford. If your father could make it safely to the exit, he could be on his way without hindrance. But this was, of course, not as easy as it should have been. He was made to fight a small handful of them. Of course, redcaps fear the death of one of their own, and with the first blood spilled from the swing of your father’s sword, the rest fled. But, they would come back. And they would come back in much greater numbers. Now, time was not to be wasted. They would regroup quickly. Funny about the redcaps, they move with swiftness of the wind even though they bear heavy iron boots upon their feet.

"Your father knew they would return and made his way toward the end of the ford. In minutes, the redcaps were at your father’s heels again. He was only yards from the end. In seconds, the only thing that would be between him and the Land Beyond the Mountains was a massive boulder that blocked passage through to the other side. The only way to the other side was over the boulder. This would not be an easy task, nor would it be swift by any means. The boulder was sheer with no holds and could not be scaled. To either side of the boulder, there stood a grand tree of oak between which the boulder was lodged. The River of Wealth passed easily beneath the boulder, but the current was too strong to swim. He would have chosen to climb the oak tree to the left of the boulder as it provided for the easiest climbing. However, that tree was on the other side of the river, and the current was much too strong to cross here. The lower branches on the tree on his side of the river were easily reached, however, and he was soon high out of harm’s way. The tiny little redcaps were protesting below, pounding at the base of the tree. Within a few minutes, your father had climbed up to a thick branch that overhung the boulder. He crept out little by little. The branch began to bow under his weight but was more than strong enough to hold him. When he was over the boulder, he leaped down onto it.

"The path down on the other side was an easy one. The boulder had been carved out on that side, and a great stone staircase led easily to the ground. Here, he met a very old man. The old man showed signs of having lived through much in his day. He had a heavy long white beard and mustache with hair to match. He wore a ragged white cloak and a ragged pointed white hat, the point of which was folded down to the back. The old man held fast to a crooked wooden staff that looked as though it traveled alongside the old man from his beginnings.

"The old man was the ancient himself, Sezni. He had awaited your father’s arrival. He would lead your father to the dragon. Your father bowed to him in a gesture of respect. Sezni then bowed back a very low bow, appearing almost to lose his balance. Your father wondered what could be so mighty about such a frail-looking tattered old man.

"Together they traveled a fortnight along the River of Wealth until late one evening, they came to a place of considerably smaller mountains in the Aileach range to the east. It would be dark soon. Here their path was crossed by Kent Pass, which led through this smaller part of the mountain range and crossed the river over a small bridge. Here Sezni motioned to halt. ‘You will wait here,’ Sezni told your father. Sezni continued to walk. Your father knew not to question the ancient. It was then that Sezni seemed to vanish rather than fade from sight as distance grew between them. Your father sat down against a flat stone off the path and waited. He was tired from the journey, not having slept much along the way. His eyes felt heavy. Try as he may, he could not fight sleep and was soon drifting into a peaceful dreamless slumber.

"Suddenly, after only a few short hours, your father awoke, feeling an intense heat. He had broken into a heavy sweat in his sleep. Then he heard it. A raspy breathing sound, almost like a growling sound. Then glancing off the stone very near his left shoulder, he thought the first of many large drops of rain were coming down upon him.

"But, only one drop came, and where it had met the rock there was a great hissing sound. He looked at the source of the sound and saw that the stone was melting away where the drop had hit it. He jumped away from the stone, his heart pounding. And there, perched atop the large stones just above where he had fallen asleep, was a dragon.

"The dragon was peering down at him. His saliva let loose another drop, which hit the stone at the same point as the first, creating a more furious rate of meltdown on the stone’s surface. The saliva oozed down along the side of the stone, hissing and leaving a smoking trail in its path to the ground. The dragon was enormous and hideous. The heat he had felt in his sleep was that of the dragon’s breath, surely. But why he had not been taken in his sleep, he did not know.

"Your father fronted his shield and drew his sword. The night was dark, and there was a chill in the air that your father hadn’t known due to the dragon’s breath. He shivered for a moment as his sweat collected the cool night air. There was a full moon, and his sword flashed brightly with its reflection in the blade. From where he stood, your father saw the dragon fully in all his hideous glory. He could still feel its hot breath, and it reeked of eons of death and destruction. It was a huge beast with a heavy black body. Its fierce golden-orange eyes were filled with hate and rage. Its mouth gaped, and there shone rows of long, sharp teeth, yellowing with age and dripping with the saliva that had nearly hit your father while he lay against the rock.

"This dragon had four legs, a rarity among the breeds. Few displayed this characteristic. The hind legs were thick and massive and built to support huge amounts of weight such as was displayed by the dragon’s heavy body. Its front legs were much smaller in comparison but dangerous weapons nonetheless, having razor-like talons able to shred its victims within seconds. Its huge wingspan was battle worn with the ages. Its head was heavily spiked, and on each side laid wide jagged earflaps. Atop the massive head were two long horns that curved downward along the back of the head and then curved up into points. They were nearly the height of a man in length. Near the base of each horn, there was an upward pointing tine four times less the length of the horn. And the horns shone bright in the full moon. Its long neck was adorned with large spikes at close intervals down the middle and ending between the wings. Its long serpentine tail sported a spade-shaped tip. He was easily a hundred times the size of a man. Your father knew that this was the one he had traveled so far to battle.

"And the two of them gazed upon each other in the night. Your father had become mesmerized at the sight. He had never seen such a hideous beast, yet beautiful in its own stature. And the dragon said, ‘I am N’og-Ard, who be you?’ And your father announced himself, ‘I am Ametheon, Lorcán as I am known.’

"The dragon looked down upon Ametheon. A man is in his middle age, wavy brown hair to shoulder length, which was covered now by a simple helm of silver outlined in black. A narrow frontal piece came to an end at the bridge of his nose. And the back shielded the back of his neck. He bore a well-groomed mustache and shallow beard, and intense blue eyes. He was not a huge man, but he was muscular. His shield was large, made of the strongest of alloys, yet very light for its size. The front of the shield was covered with a thick fire-resistant material, leatherlike. People of the land say it is dragon’s hide. The mail he wore was of plain loincloth, though it had been sewn in layers that were easily removed as they became burned or damaged. He wielded a sword, long and wide and forged of the very finest of steel. Its edge had been forged ever sharp. The blade shone white when drawn. At the base of the blade, a claw at either edge, said to be dragon’s claws. The handle was wrapped in plain leather lace. A silver orb was held fast to the end of the handle.

"‘I have heard of you,’ N’og-Ard hissed. ‘How can it be a man of your size having ended the lives of so many of my children, not to have suffered yourself? You must possess inner strengths that show not on the outside. No matter, though. It will be my pleasure to end your life in exchange for those whom you have taken away from me.’

"‘You are the one the ancient spoke of. You are responsible for the winged demons that plague my world,’ said Ametheon.

"‘Your world?’ hissed N’og-Ard. ‘I have lived an eternity. I have existed since the time before time, and I am strong. I came before your kind. Your world is weak and shall perish within my flame.’

"Then without warning, the beast spread its huge wings and took to the air. The sudden rush of wind sent your father backward, nearly knocking him into the river. He faded back to the reality of the circumstance and readied himself for the inevitable. But the dragon did not attack. Instead, he settled down onto the field on the other side of the bridge and breathed fire into the air. A signal to your father that he was ready for battle and awaited him to cross the bridge. Your father was not a man known to fear dragons. However, this dragon, he feared. But he knew that he had to fight the beast whatever the outcome, for he was Lorcán, mighty dragon slayer. If he did not fight, his people would shun him, ridicule him. He would be the mighty Lorcán no more.

"And so, your father moved toward the bridge. Never once did he take his eyes off N’og-Ard. He held his shield before him, and his sword was ready in his hand. He took the first step onto the bridge. He had never known such apprehension before. Slowly he moved across the bridge until finally he felt ground below his feet once more. N’og-Ard was there watching him. His massive chest was heaving in and out with every breath. And your father stood for a minute and gazed upon the creature. The dragon returned the glare.

‘Now it is time for you to die, Lorcán, mighty dragon slayer.’

Nathaniel’s mother continued, "And N’og-Ard breathed fire at him. Your father raised his shield to block the burning flames, and they danced around him harmlessly. Though he could feel their heat, he was unharmed. He charged the dragon, sounding off with a great yell. The dragon reared back his head. Your father swung his sword, but the dragon’s tail lashed out and blocked its path. Your father was knocked to the ground but sprang up to his feet and charged once again.

"The sword glinted in the moonlight as it swung round and met its target. He had hit high on the dragon’s left leg, leaving a long, deep gash. N’og-Ard roared out and lifted off the ground. He circled round low and flew straight toward your father. And fire shot out of the dragon’s gaping mouth. Your father shielded himself once more. As the dragon passed, he swung his sword. This time, he missed.

"The dragon circled again and again, each time breathing fire, and each time your father shielded the flames and swung his sword at the dragon, missing in every attempt. The two of them moved about over the field, neither of them gaining on the other. Much of the field was burning now.

"Your father began to move back toward the bridge. There was a large rock at the water’s edge. He climbed upon it and awaited the dragon’s next pass. N’og-Ard circled in on him. A bolt of