Traveler’s Revenge

May 19, 2009 • Brandon Kostka  
Filed under Creative Writing

     Fire burned in an inferno of smoke and flame, looking for anything that it could lay its greedy fingers on. Stonewalls and heavy wooden beams crashed to the ground. Dark, starry skies stared down sadly at the last free city going up in flames. Overhead the beat of heavy wings could be heard, fading away in the distance. Clouds slowly rolled in, sending with them a wave of wind followed by the crackle of lightning to fan the flames across the sorry land.
     Hornspike, a fierce dragon, flew slowly back to his mountain stronghold in the peaks to the east. This trip had been most satisfying. The warlord finally crushed the last of the rebellion in his kingdom. He warned the rebels that they would pay for their insubordination, and so they did. Cool, night air blew over his red scales, soothing his blood-soaked flank. The fight had been hard, but his will had been carried out. Silent as a shadow, he flew into the night.
     Day broke barren and bleak over the land. Flames had eaten everything in their path. Burnt bodies of squirrels, hedgehogs, otters, and ospreys lay strewn over the ground. Buildings of once rich glory were now collapsed, shattered, still blazing like one big bon-fire. From out of one of the only buildings to survive, a middle-aged otter named Planktail emerged. Fragments of clothing clung to his back and waist, the last remnants of his rich life. He let out a hacking cough, sending billows of smoke rising in the air. With a small thump he landed on the ground, sending billows of ash swirling in the air. Closing his eyes he rested for a while, and thought only one word: why?
     Wearily he stood to his paws and with an effort created a very cold wind that destroyed the lands’ fires that still raged. “I will get you Hornspike!” he yelled to the skies in a parched voice. “Your days are numbered.” Sighing with fatigue, he walked out of the carnage and death. He knew that he couldn’t stay here. A place in the woods would be his refuge for the night. Walking with effort, he went to a place upwind of the fire and found a small grove where he could recuperate. For the rest of the day, he foraged for food, made a sleeping place in the nook of a sycamore trunk, and slept off his weariness. The day after, with his energy restored, he trundled on toward his destination to the dragon stronghold. It would be a long journey, but if it would bring justice to the evil of the land, then so be it.
     Planktail walked for days due north, where the mountain peaks of Blatzetta waited. The previous days’ clouds were finally dispersing. Bright rays of sun peeped out from behind large cloudbanks. Sizeable trees of oak, rowan, and ash passed as he walked the small path out of the woods.
     Desert land stretched hot and dusty before him. Everything about the place reeked of danger and suffering, but he walked on. Large sand dunes poked high over the ground. Keeping between these so he couldn’t be seen, Planktail soon ran into what looked like to be a long deserted dwelling. Cautiously, he entered.
     The wooden walls had caved in, and sand spilled in from the sides. He heard something from outside. Swiftly, he turned around and saw that the entrance was packed thickly with Gila Monsters. Long, slimy tongs flicked his way as if they were already tasting him. Red, scaly tails flicked back and fourth idly, as if waiting for something. “What on earth is going on?” he said to himself as he strolled toward the nasty creatures.
     The red lizards swept aside to let a very fat one through, obviously the leader. “Me hungry. You I eat!” it explained. “Me roast you on spit, like duck.”
     Planktail immediately didn’t like the creature, so he decided to call him a name that suited him: Plump-gut. “Well, if you want to eat me, you must pay a small price. Do you know what that small token is?”
     “What you gabbing at?” shouted the fiend.
     “You, Plump-gut! The token is your life.” Planktail turned the sand to quicksand with a flourish of his paws. Scaly claws waved frantically in the air as the lizards started sinking.
     “You is a element wielder?!” exclaimed Plump-gut. “Well, I thinks there must be’s more the one besides me.” He waved his claws and the ground became firm. Planktail looked dumbfounded. “Teehee! You thought yous was ta only element weilder? Well, yous thought wrong!” Whipping his scaly tail toward the otter, fire blasted fourth to engulf the poor mammal. Planktail countered it by fashioning a sandstorm to quench the flames. A loud, crackling sound came from somewhere up ahead, and through the storm came a large boulder, flung by Plump-gut. Reacting in time, Planktail locked the boulder in midair, spun it around, and sent it flying back. The sandstorm still raged on. A sound like crushed meat resounded somewhere in front, so the otter made the storm stop. Unfortunately for him the boulder struck a smaller, scrawnier lizard to the right of the Plump one.
     Pure rage emanated from the red, plump lizard. Lifting his claws to the sky, a blast of electricity struck the blue canopy, causing the electrical string to build in intensity. The bolt then struck down toward the pitiful otter. Out of desperation, Planktail raised the ground to form a wall ten feet thick between himself and the lizards.  Pioush! Ztztztzt! The bright ribbon struck the wall and it went crumbling down. Dust whooshed everywhere, causing the reptiles to squint their eyes. Impatient to start the fighting again, Plump-gut forced a wind to spring out and clear it. The otter disappeared.
     “Where he go? Some beast find him, or yous be my dinner!” shouted Plump-gut in frustration. His minions scattered in all direction, not wanting to get in the way of their cannibalistic leader.
     Inside the sand dune Planktail fought in front of, the otter lie hidden. Little grains of sand rose up slowly until a sort of dome was formed, a perfect hiding place from the daft lizards.  He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could continue on his way to the dragon fortress. Outside the voices of Plump-gut could still be heard, mercilessly thrashing his minions. With great caution, Planktail cleared a hallway through the sand and stepped out quietly on the opposite side of the lizards. Looking around to see if any of the lizards were searching for him, he marched on, determined to ascend the steep slopes of Hornspike and avenge his family. Nothing would stop him, not even if the whole world would turn against him.
     The sun started to set, sending shimmering heat radiating in the distance. He quitted the dunes and crossed the threshold between sand dunes and dry, mud-cracked desert. Standing at the edge of this barren wasteland stood the fortress, Planktail’s destination. Revenge was short at hand.