The Beast Uglig

Chapter 1 - The desolation of Deraim

"Uglig has sadly ravaged this fair land." Sadly spoke Gwin the master of Deraim. He stood up upon his watch tower in Deraim and surveyed the surrounding country. Erion, his son too looked out into the distance.

"How, father, shall we feed the people of our country, the food stores shall not last forever?"

"I do not know, my son, but we must trust in providence and our god Henema, he has never failed us yet." Gwin fingered his necklace with the leaf of Henema and prayed silently for the delivery of his people.

"Listen to me, Father, we have not food. What can Henema do now for us? We must help ourselves in this crisis or starve."

"Do not too easily dismiss Henema, my boy, he shall yet save us from ruin."

Erion smote the stone tower with his fist. "Father, the salvation of this land lies in its people, not in Henema!" Gwin turned from his surveying and sadly looked at his son.

"Who shall help us then, the farmers? The blacksmiths? The scribes? No. They have their own problems, Erion, and have not the time to join with us for the good of the kingdom."

"But Father, food concerns all, not just the knights and the rich. If there is not enough the poor shall suffer most."

"What would you have them do?" Gwin looked sad, defeated and vaguely lost. The dragon had affected them all; Gwin's fair wife, Thoreen, had perished at the hand of the Uglig, and in the same breath had stolen the heart of Gwin, he had now no will to carry on. He was a ghost of a man, his once proud face was stained with tears and his heavy lids drooped over his eyes in the mournful face. His posture sagged and his feeble hands clutched a cane. All over he was clad in black as dark as a starless night in which his mind now lived, and it was bereft of the comfort of knowing morning was coming, for he did not know it.

Erion, too, was mourning for his so fair mother, but the trail of her death only served to fill him with hatred anew for the foul beast that killed her. "I would have them raise an army to slay this monster." Erion looked very proud as he stood there in the morning light, his fair hair shinning and his armour glinting, the emblazoned leaf of Henema standing out green as a forest surrounded by a sea of silver.

"My son, you are yet young, and know not the intricacies of ruling a kingdom such as ours, you cannot simply demand an army of peasants go slay a dragon. They are unfit, unarmed. Do not bother me with your fanciful ideas, I have to prepare for the times ahead."

Erion strode from the tower and stood tall and strong like the hero's of old upon the battlements of the city of Deraim. He saw the carts filing one after another into Deraim and wondered who among them would muster to his banner if they were called upon to fight the foul beast Uglig. Uglig had the hideous snake-like head of a dragon, which spat fire and was spiked with horns; he had the body of a tiger covered with bristles and spidery wings which allowed him to glide above Deraim and all of Imrandir above the arrows and spears of even the strongest archers and knights of the land. Erion sighed sadly and began to wonder if maybe his father was right, maybe no one would come to aid!

"My lord, what disturbs your mind?" From behind Erion, Vidien, a faithful guard of the city spoke.

“Vidien, I begin to wonder whether anyone in our land will come to my call for our country’s sake to smite down Uglig.” Erion turned from his observation and surveyed sadly his friend. Vidien was much like him in appearance. He had hair that went down to just below his shoulders and was the colour of spun gold, sharp blue eyes and a physique both tall and muscular.

“My liege, many would rally willingly to you, should you need them.”

Erion smiled and squeezed Vidien’s shoulder. “I know you would, my friend, but do I have a right to call the people from their everyday lives and take them on a mission both dangerous and long, for Uglig lives many leagues from here.”

“You do not need the Physicians and the Farmers, Erion, just take some twenty knights. We can fight the beast alone if we surprise it in its lair. Leave the surfs to their lives and let them protect the city if we should fail in our quest, and the battlements of Deraim need manning once more.”

“You give wise council, but would twenty knights be able to slay the beast?”

“We can but try.”

“Thank you, Vidien, you have done much to restore my faith in Imrandir, but now I must think.” Vidien moved on on his patrol of the walls, and Erion sat on the stone bench and thought hard about who he would take on this quest, should he decide to undertake it. Long he sat there, his thoughts swathed around him like blankets, and his head resting in the palms of his hands.

Eventually he rose and shook off the blankets of though, he sauntered into the halls of his father. He went up the grey stone steps and through the archway of the same stone, through the strong oak doors and past many pillars to the throne upon which his father sat, his greying hair half covering his face. He walked slowly to beside the throne his brain trying to decide how best to broach the subject of him taking fifteen (at least) of the cities best warriors on a possibly suicidal mission to kill Uglig.

"I need to speak with you, Father. It concerns what I said earlier about the eradication of the beast that attacks our land often, destroys our crops, burns our villages and towns, and has killed and eaten the citizens of Imrandir." Erion drew himself up, proud and strong. He spoke clearly and his voice which had started off at barely more than a whisper rose so that it boomed across the court and came to the ears of many of Deraimum's knights and the servants hurrying through the hall on their business. "I would like to take a company of men, fifteen say, to slay this beast."

"My son this is folly, I will not lose both you and your mother to this creature and I will not have you risk men’s lives on this stupid quest! We must find some other better solution that will not endanger people, or at least not you my son for you are the future ruler of this kingdom and I will not have this city left without a leader should I perish." The years dropped from Gwin as he left the throne upon which he had sat and faced his son squarely.

"I would force no man to come, only those that chose to should follow me. And am I the only heir to the Kingship? Another man would willingly fill my shoes should I fall."

"If you refer to your cousin, he would not do. I quarrelled with his father and he does not know the ways of our family or how to rule our nation." Gwin waved Erion's cousin aside with a small flick of his hand, which was all he deemed him worth.

"If you do not allow me to do what I can to protect my people, how can I become a King who is respected? Also if something is not done then for all you guarding me close I will never be King for I shall have no people or land to rule for Uglig will have destroyed them both! I am going father with or without your leave! I wish for your blessing but I will leave without it."

"No matter where you go my boy you shall have both my blessing and my love but I beseech you not to go." Gwin sank down onto his throne and was once more an aged man he closed his eyes as though they wearied of staying open. Erion sank down beside his father and took one of his wrinkled hands in his own youthful paw.

"My Father, I love you yet I must do this, do not try anymore to hinder me." Grave concern and care entered Erion's eyes, it wrung his heart to see the strong man who had hoisted him back onto his pony from his first fall and told him that many more falls would come his way but he must always get up and try again, thus weakened.

Gwin was slowly slipping from his the mortal worlds grasp, the death of Thoreen had killed part of him too, now he lived only for his son, daughter and the sake of the kingdom, yet he grew more disinterested with each passing day.

The heavy lids that shrouded Gwin's eyes lifted, "Do what you feel you must."

Though the heart of Erion was fair ripped out to leave his father he rose, he strode of at a great rate around the castle to make preparations for his journey.