View source for Ashfangs Tenant part 1

Written and as told by '''Gregory Gynoid'''

Ashfang’s tenant.<br>

One<br>

The bedraggled messenger boy's arrival was expected as was the news he bore. Fairngard had fallen to the wild barbarian army that was advancing along the border of the kingdom of Ishar. Their advance was swift, bloody and merciless. Dead men lay beneath the burned ruins of every village they conquered, The young, old and babes all piled on a heap as if useless cord wood. The women's bodies were laid atop the men, not out of respect, but because the barbarians had used the women hideously, young, old, too old, and too young all alike. Then the barbarians danced around the flames as they consumed the village and all who once lived there.  

Men from other villages nearby and all of the able-bodied men of our village lay with them. They had rallied to the aid of their friends not only for their protection but in the sure knowledge that their village would be next. So quickly had the barbarians descended upon the undefended border village outposts that word had not yet reached the Kings army of the slaughter and rape of his people. 

It would be three more days before any help could be expected from the King's men. Their massed strength had just finished sending the last of an invading army over the cliffs of the seacoast where they had attempted the same thing that these barbarians were bent on. However, it was discovered that although the beach of Seafaire was cluttered with nearly a hundred dread barbarian ships of war which would normally hold more than 200 fierce fighting men, these ships were deserted, They were manned only by as few as could pilot the ship to land  The kings army had responded to the tower watchfires lit by the diligent, but now dead, attendants who saw the ships coming over the horizon and sought to warn the kingdom of the massing horde. Once the King's Army arrived, having driven themselves and their horses to the edge to reach the seaside village in time they found not thousands of invaders as they expected but only four or five hundred scraggly old soldiers attempting to take the little seaside village which even the untrained and poorly armed men of the village were bravely defending from their feeble attacks.  The kings men stormed in and surrounded the old scraggly knot of invaders and pressed them toward the cliffs which they had scaled with ropes or carefully climbed the rock walls using the handholds made by the villagers.  The invaders were not being given time to reach ropes or handholds. The Kings men pressed them all over the edge of the cliff, some alive and screaming and some already dead by the sting of sword and axe. 

The commanders of the King’s Army were puzzled by the invasion. Things did not add up. As the army made camp to rest from their arduous journey to the aid of their countrymen. The news of another invasion had yet to reach them and when it did it would be too late for the villages who had already succumbed to the much larger force at the northern border of the Kingdom of Ishar It had been so long since anyone had braved the mountain passes of the north to trouble the kingdom that the watch towers there had unfortunately fell into disrepair and disuse. Now only crumbling wraiths of stone and timber marked the once well kept and carefully tended sentries of old. Their neglect would spell a disaster for the people of Ishar. Unless somehow some one or some thing rose up in time to save the villagers of the borderlands their doom would soon be sealed.  The cries of the battle crazed army of the north rang over the plains which rolled gently beneath the snow covered mountains that had allowed the invaders to come pouring into the soft and unprepared people of the grasslands.

These were desperate times for the little village of Kendale. Amid the crying and heartrending grief that gilled the village as night fell a few old men called upon the hedge wizard and pleaded with him to do anything he could to defend the village.  Pelliar was way past his prime and tottered about on skeleton like legs helped upright by a gnarled staff. As far as the villagers knew he was never much of a wizard,. He never spoke of his past deeds before coming here to settle down and no one bore tales of his magical exploits to their ears. He was not the greatest wizard who ever lived in the kingdom but neither was he the least. As he sat silently brooding over the news that came to him along with the villager’s pleas, a nearly forgotten friend came to his remembrance, a friend who, if available, could make a difference in this uneven battle. Pelliar lifted his shaggy head and smiled at those around him. They could barely discern it as a smile since no teeth shone from the wizard’s mouth. His beard nearly covered the crooked hole that opened when he spoke. But as the words came forth from the man they were warm, confident and filled with more strength than expected from one so old.

“I am little help to you. I am but one old man, nearly dead and lifeless as you see me."  " But I do know of some one who might help or some thing depending upon how you look upon such things" "We have little time so leave me alone and I will summon my friend." Brogar, nearly as old and skeleton-like as the wizard spat out "Summons him, ye old fool, we have no time for summonsing or sending fancy invitations to this friend of yours. The blood of the people of Faingard and of our own will still be dripping from the beards of the murderers when they arrive here tomorrow. We have no time for summonses."  The old wizard's breathing never quickened at the baiting of Brogar. He just sighed and repeated. Leave me alone then and let a foolish man go back to sleep."

Two<br>

Brogar and the other old men of the village left the wizards ramshackle hut, cursing him under their breath and grinding their teeth. They all knew there was no hope for them and the others who were left in the village.  The old villagers trooped to the small tavern where others waited for them. “The old fool is just as worthless as I tol ya.” Grumped Brogar “ He ain’t gonna be no help.” Brogar reached for a mug of warm dark ale which was awaiting him on the table. “I reckon we are dead men and the whole village along with us. Drink up you old cusses I kin tomorrow we die.”

But Pelliar closed his door and crumpled in the middle of the floor of his hut. He arranged his old bones into a slightly more comfortable position although for him the pains of old age racked his body no matter how it was laid about. Pelliar slowed his breathing even more and sought the light within,  feeling once again the power of the magic he once wielded in the King's service. But holding back from dipping too deep into the fiery throbbing mass of power he found their let it wrench his now frail body apart. He grinned and tapped the tiniest bit of the liquid stream and shaped it and sang to it of his old friend Ashfang. Then the old wizard fell over and slept curled in his old robe thankful that it was not yet winter because he had not the strength to raise him self to his pallet in the corner.

Three<br>

The acrid stench of brimstone, and the low rumbling that shook the old wizards hut put a rude end to his nap. "Ho Pelliar!, have you summoned me to witness your death and that too late?" The words came from a bony armored snout pushed into the door of the wizard’s hut, filling the doorway from side to side and nearly to the top. The door prevented any more of the fire dragon to enter yet the slit at the top of the door did permit the gleaming silver eye of the dragon to peer in on his old friend and thus his concern for the old mans aliveness.  "Come on over and give your old friend a pat on the nose," The dragon rumbled, "And I will give you something in turn." Pelliar struggled to a sitting position and shambled to the doorway placing his hand upon the nearly hot snout of his friend and gasped as the heat entered his body and coursed through him wreathing him in an aura of healing that nearly caused him to lose consciousness. Pelliar’s head buzzed like it was filled with bees. "Hold off old man there’s little left where that came from." Pelliar huffed," I just need to find out why you have summoned me without you dying on me in the middle of your speech"

Pelliar rose to his feet his staff forgotten in the exuberance he felt in his new strength. Although he knew that he was probably only as strong as a youth of 8 or 9 it was still much more than he had felt in a very long time. Ashfang withdrew his snout from the door and backed up to allow the old wizard to come outside into the dawning daylight so that they could talk man to dragon.

As Pelliar walked outside of his hut he had to tilt his head up a bit to see the crest of Ashfang’s head.  The dragon was larger the Pelliars little hut. From toe to the crest of his head he rose the height of three tall men. His forelegs’ locked before him and his hind legs bent beneath him in a sitting pose with his long scaled tail wrapping all the way around the ankles of his forelegs Ashfang was formidable.  Yet the dragon showed wear and weariness. Some of the beautiful scales were missing and few of them gleamed with the brilliance of a dragon of lesser years. Ashfang’s wings were not all sleek and full either, there were tears and small holes evident throughout the larger portions of both wings. The trailing edges near the outer wingtips were definitely ragged and curled. But even with all of the obvious shortcomings presented no sane man or even 100 sane men would think that Ashfang was easy prey. If they did think so the thought would be short lived, the thought as well as the men.

"You are certainly one to call another old my friend, "Pelliar stated as he looked upon his long ago friend. " You look as near death's door as I am .It is a wonder you made the flight."   Pelliar sat down upon a bench near his front porch.  "Dragons don't live forever even if you humans continue to think they do . We get old and die just the same it just takes a few centuries more is all." Ashfang snarled playfully, "You should well know how old I am or have you forgotten how to count upon those stubby fingers and toes of yours?" "I have forgotten a lot in these last years but even so I hoped that you could be of some help even if it is a desperate and death bringing campaign. Pelliar spoke warmly but teasingly, " I for one know that you always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, now may be your chance."  

The wizard explains the dire situation of the villagers and the loss of so many before them. He lays out his idea of Ashfang making a final stand against the murdering horde and stopping them before they reach the village.  Ashfang explains that he has flown over the enemies camp on the way here and that there are far too many for a dragon as old as him to put an end to . "It would be a futile attempt and would do little to hinder the murderers schedule of arriving at the village the next noon."  Pelliar is disheartened and slumps on the bench in despair "I wish I could help you" Ashfang continued, " I owe you my life several times over and if you think it will do any good I will go out and take as many of the foul fiends with me as I can. but that will not stay the slaughter of this village or maybe even more after it before the King's army arrives." Pelliar looks into the still dazzling silver eyes of his friend and says "No, No my friend, a dragon is not something to waste even an old smelly one such as yourself. It would not be the thing to do"

Three<br>

Both Pelliar and ashfang turned quickly toward the noise coming from the Haystack near the edge of the wizard’s yard. Pelliar raised his voice, Come out of there Gregory your knees are knocking so loudly I can't hear my friend speak."  The scared boy tried to move but his weak knees would not carry him. He had been out counting the haystacks in the lower field that comes alongside the old wizards hut. When the hay farmers son saw a sight no young man of his age of 13 had ever seen in the Kingdom." a D D D  Dragon! Gregory sputtered his knees still nearly knocking together "No youngling, a F F F Fire Breathing Dragon!" Ashfang puffed and with each puff, smoke and flames curled out of his bony scaled snout inching ever closer to the boy and the dry haystack he stood beside. Gregory fainted, it wasn't manly or noble. But there it is, it is done and nothing to it.  Pelliar came and picked the limp Gregory up and carried him to the bench and laid the boy upon it something he could not have done moments before.  As the cold water from the gourd Pelliar held splashed on his head and shoulders Gregory started up from the bench and got his legs under him and started forward only to run headlong into the very Dragon himself. "Hold up there youngling I don't eat humans, Well,...  I do actually, but not usually ones as small as you. You're not enough for a proper snack"  Pelliar shook his head at Ashfang's teasing "Don't frighten the lad any more than he is already. He might piss himself and I don’t like the smell of that." Ashfang sat heavily upon his haunches moving back a bit from the youth. "Right you are, and it pretty much spoils the taste altogether"

Four<br>

Pelliar settles the lad upon the bench and asks, "What were you doing spying on us anyway?" " I wasn't spying I wasn't I was out a countin the stacks like Brenna told me to" Brenna was Gregory's oldest sister she had taken over caring for her brothers and sister when their ma died giving birth to little Gregory. Her duties have been tragically lessened by the death of her father and two older brothers. The pain of their death was still cutting and fresh and overpowering in all of their lives.  The toll of death struck Brenna doubly hard as she also lost her betrothed Michael in the killing. Barely seventeen Brenna's struggles to keep things under control led her to ask Gregory for the counting since she had no idea where the harvest had ended. As events were to proceed Gregory would bring an accounting of a much different kind and much more useful to Brenna and the village.

"What we need is a champion, be it dragon or man." Pelliar lamented. "Stating the obvious is not getting us any closer to a solution old man.  Do you see any champions here? I am no more a champion than this youngling here." Ashfang harrumphed. "And about as effective against an invading army so large as is coming as he would be with his fathers pitchfork in hand. One of us too old, the other too young, neither fit for a battle much less what anyone would call a champion." 

Pelliar's eyes opened wide as he stood up quickly still surprised at the strength the dragon had bestowed upon him " Ah but there is an old spell I remember which just might make champions of you two" Pelliar looked from one to the other questioningly. "Of course I am sure it would be the death of me to call it forth. But so be it I am of little use to anyone as it is and I too have the desire to go out in the blaze of glory as the tales speak of" Ashfang wondered "What foolishness has addled your old pate now old man.”

"First," began Pelliar, "let me ask each of you what you are wiling to give to settle this matter with these murdering invaders?"  Ashfang spoke first not leaving much time for Gregory to think of a response. "I am old. I came to see an old friend who I missed terribly and have longed to see for a great many years but I had no way of finding him. Now that I am here I must admit that I may have over extended myself and I doubt I will be able to return to my cave and my horde.  My horde I would give all of the gold and gems I have secreted away for centuries that would but a great army, enough to vanquish the enemy for good. But I cannot get to my horde and if I could we do not have time to do so not to save this village or ourselves. I am afraid I am going to be little but sport for these vicious men once they arrive and find me unable to fly away quickly enough to evade their spears. I do not regret coming to your call old friend. I was wasting away in my cave and of little use to anyone and now I find myself of even less use to you in your time of need.  I said I would give my life for you and I still offer it although you and I both know it is worth very little at this point". 

Pelliar nodded at his old friend and turned to the lad. Gregory was known to the old hedge wizard. Pelliar had seen the lad running through the hayfields bringing his brothers their lunch and recently even wielding a smaller scythe that all of his brothers had laid their hands to before him. Though not yet man enough to handle the full sized scythes that his brothers and father used he nonetheless sheared off his share of the tall grasses at harvest time.  Gregory was small yes but only because of his youth His muscles were already forming into the stout sinews all of his brothers shared. His body tanned and his face bronzed by the sun. His black hair hung loose just below his ears. Gregory looked through a few strands of his hair which fell over his forehead at the old wizard who now spoke a pointed question to him. "And what Gregory would you give to defend your sisters from the hands of the coming bloodletters and violators of innocent and tender maidens.  "Give me a sword and I will cut their filthy hands of and stuff them down their screaming throats." Gregory snarled" " I'd slit their throats just like we do the old fat pig each year and then open them up and let their insides spill out on the ground. I'd..." Ashfang interrupted him" Hold, lad, Hold! All this talk of stuffing, splitting and spilling is making me hungry. And how pray tell will you slit their throats when you can't even reach them Will you take a milking stool with you into battle and ask them each to ‘stand still please sir’ while you get yourself atop it to look them in the eye?"  

Gregory reddened at the teasing of Ashfang and balled his fists in anger. "Halp Halp!!" cried Ashfang tauntingly" Protect the dragon from this champion of yours, Pelliar me thinks he intends me bloodshed." "Pelliar stepped between the two striving mightily to hold back a chuckle at the dragons incessant teasing of the lad.  Not that it wasn’t funny, but Pelliar liked the lad and he was a good boy with a noble heart it seemed, especially when it came to the defense of his much loved sisters. "Hold indeed lad, although I'll grant you the dragon may deserve a cut or two for his unmerciless teasing. He really means nothing by it. Ashfang just cannot seem to keep from it. That has always gotten him in trouble before and it seems little has changed."  Pelliar placed his hand on Gregory's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "I would no more ask you to go into this fight as you are than I would Ashfang and he is more of a threat than you are notwithstanding all of his talk of being old and decrepit.  I would propose something much different but altogether just as dangerous to you both"

"Well out with it old man if you have no better idea I may just launch myself into the horde and eat as many as I can catch before they take me down. At least that way I die on a full stomach for mine is rumbling with a hunger I haven't felt in a long time." Gregory though looked at the wizard in expectation visions of a champion in combat fleeing through his head fueled by all of the old stories he had heard at the fires in the winter months. Pelliar cleared his throat and began" I may be able to give you both what you want. For you Ashfang a chance to renew you name on the lips of the Kingdom for valorous deeds done on their behalf even greater than those which they no longer remember you for. 

And for you young Gregory I may be able to give the ability to truly defend your sisters and your village. The plan requires the both of you. You will need each other. Ashfang you will need Gregory to stand for you before the villagers lest they take you for a closer and much dire threat, and you find yourself attacked on two fronts at once. And Gregory you will need the strength and cunning of Ashfang. For though I can bring about a magic that will cause your body to take on the form of a champion I can not change your knowledge or experience, for that you must rely upon Ashfang. He is seasoned in many battles and if you can overlook his sarcasm and sometimes deadly dry wit he will prove a good friend and counselor." Gregory and Ashfang looked at each other and then back at Pelliar their faces showing the same questioning look. 

Five <br>

Pelliar continued. “What I propose is a rather tricky bit of conjoined magic, simultaneous spells of halving and doubling. Halving the age of the dragon and doubling the age of the lad. Conjoined in a way that the halving spell feeds the doubling spell and vice versa thus making it even more powerful. Something which I don't believe has ever been done before. I felt the power here earlier when you healed me a little Ashfang. I felt it in a way I had not for many years. My little needs of it had me grow accustom to the vaporous stream which lay atop the great depths of power below. I had not reached deeply into the well of power for so long I guess I have forgotten how to do so. Your healing opened my vision to what lay beneath. It is more than sufficient for this double spell." Ashfang looked warily at Pelliar" The power is there yes, but do you think you are strong enough to wield it? I only gave you a little healing it can't possibly be enough for so intricate a spell." Pellior nodded in agreement as Gregory just looked from one to the other. "I am pretty certain it will be the end of me. But I have nothing else to give. I have lived here in this village safely and contentedly for nearly 20 winters and they have always been kind to me. I owe them this if nothing else."

Ashfang stood up to his full height "Well as for me I am ready. Have at you old hedge wizard and if you roast me like a duck instead, I will pursue you throughout the netherworld." a puff of smoke lifted above the dragons head to emphasize his last words.  

Six<br>

Gregory was having a problem keeping his mouth closed. His lower jaw seemed nearly unhinged as he spoke "Twenty six years, a fully grown man, like my brother Penn, as big as that?" Gregory had always admired his oldest brother Penn who had grown even taller and broader than his father. Well liked by everyone in the village Penn also cared greatly for his family and especially Gregory. 

Penn was among the men who had already given their life for the village. He fought like a wild man they said, cutting into the enemy ranks with the same scythe he had used to cut the grasses for hay on the farm. The solid blade, twice sharpened, and wielded by Penn’s strong arms and back cut through the leg bones of the enemy before him in the same way it had cut through the stalks of grass of his home fields. Penn proceeded through the ranks of the screaming mass reaping a grisly harvest of revenge and justice. His father Ahndahl followed behind him cleaving skulls with a broadaxe.  Penn’s younger brother Fynar would have completed the harvesting crew beside his brother and father except for the tragic event of taking an arrow in the eye nearly at the outset of the battle. That, they say, is what drove Penn and his father over the edge.  Their anger and lust for revenge drove them deep into the enemies ranks mowing down nearly 40 men before they were overwhelmed from all sides.  If anyone survived the barbarian’s attacks that knew of it, the tale of Penn and Fynar would be told for many years to come.

This tale was still fresh in Gregory’s thoughts and the same lust for revenge burned inside of him as he answered the old hedge wizard. “I too will allow you to work you magic upon me. It frightens me greatly, but I will be just another lifeless body stacked on a mound of other dead bodies otherwise. And my sisters, they need me to protect them somehow and I have no idea how to do that without some sort of miracle. As I am I can do little to stop these monsters from taking more of my family and my village. So whatever you plan to do with me do it.”

Pellior  thought for a moment before responding. “I fear there is no other way for us now. You are right youngling to be afraid I am afraid too. Never let your fear stop you from taking action. Let us begin shall we while there is still some strength left in these old bones.” Pellior sat down upon the bench and directed Ashfang and Gregory to stand before him. “There now stand still, this may take a while to get set just right and I don’t have the energy to stop and go looking for you.” His eyes closed and his body relaxed. To Gregory he looked dead even though he was still sitting upright. “Will he be okay?” Gregory asked Ashfang the worry in his whispered voice. “No.” Ashfang replied as softly as a fire dragan is capable of. “He will not survive this I am certain. But he has lived a long life and this is his way of thanking your village for their kindness. Do not mourn him but be glad that you are here to possibly witness his greatest feat.” One of Peliar’s eyes opened a crack as he hissed. “Quiet you old wind bag or I’ll muck this all up and you may be turned into a roasted duck as you fear. You can’t hold it against me if your distraction leads me astray.” With that Pelliar closed his eye again and shortly a mist of writhing light began to flow from the ground over the death still body of the seated wizard. The hair on Gregory neck raised up and he felt a chill down his spine. Ashfang swayed slightly from side to side feeling he scales quiver for much the same reason as Gregory.

The power of the spell was drawn from energies held deep within the earth, power that had lain untapped for many years and power that had grown in the waiting. It somehow had grown even greater the old hedge wizard had anticipated. Ashfang would probably tease him about his counting poorly on his stubby fingers and toes again but the old wizard was beyond teasing now. As he wove the spell he realized maybe why this had never been done before. It was maddening keeping all the pieces in the right sequence and balance. As he sang Pellior felt the power beneath him begin to flow through him. The power sought release and found Pelliors song and followed it as it weaved the streams of light and heat. The light and heat were not the power just the tiny effects that accompanied it. The power they hinted at was much greater and much more difficult to weave into the tapestry of the spell Pellior held in his mind and sang with his voice. As the weaving came closer and closer to the image in the wizards mind he felt it begin to slip from his grasp. Pellior was clinging to the threads of power as long as he could weaving faster and faster but barely able to move quickly enough as the power kept surging forward nudging lines and stretching others to fill the image the wizard sang to it. Pellior neared the end of the intricate spell weaving having finished three sides of the tapestry. That was the only way  he could describe the delicate and intricate nature of what he did it was very much like using a loom to create a tapestry of brilliant colors to finally depict an image of whatever the weaver held in his mind. Just as Pellior began to draw the last thread to close the fourth side of the tapestry the power surged mightily as if it sensed the closing of it's escape. Pellior could not hold it back. The thread was torn from his grasp. The power flooded forth blazing along every path that Pellior had so painstakingly laid down. Giving life to the spell and changing the mind image into reality but for the last thread which tore loose and leaped back through the already formed tapestry changing the image just a bit.

The old hedge wizards hut was no more. Silence followed the earth splitting thunder clap of sound that had just pealed out over the plain and echoed off of the sides of the far away mountains. The whole earth it seemed paused and listened, startled by the sudden sound that was so loud it shook the bones of everything it touched.  The bloodthirsty invaders felt it nearby as did the villagers. But the sound carried farther across the land even to the ears of the King's army, awakening some who were late to rise exhausted from the previous days rush to battle.  Though neither was aware of it yet one army heard the sound of their salvation, the other the sound of their doom.

Seven<br>

The air returned to the place where the hut once stood raising small torrents of heated smoke from the ground now turned to a glassy melted surface forged solid by the power of the magic the Hedge wizard brought to bear. The hedge wizard himself was gone as well, vaporized by the same power channeled through his bony frame. As he well knew he was not strong enough to channel that much power and he was proved correct.  Once tapped, the power had surged around him eager to jump to his will but once he sang his spell into the vortex it seemed to take on a mind of it's own overcoming the wizard rushing to do his bidding ,... almost.  For once the wizard lost control the power sought its own release and in that release it took the song sung to it and changed it ever so slightly. It was a slight change of the weaving but not so slight for the targets of the song - Gregory and Ashfang.

Steam dust and smoke still covered the form of the Fire Dragon. Nothing could be made out clearly. Only a massive hulk of darkness at the center of the pool of sand turned glass gave any hint that anything remained of the Dragon,... or the boy.<br>

[[Category:Stories and Tales]]