Artigal motioned for Stephania to come to him, and she obeyed, standing silently in front of him, her eyes intelligently drinking all there was to see. His face stern and solemn, he bent down to her and gazed into her large, wondering eyes. Mixed emotions flowed through him. When he stared into her eyes, he felt a deep connection with her, as if she were his own child. He suddenly wanted to take her into his own home and raise her as his own child but … he sighed heavily and tried to ignore the wave of emotions that rose out of nowhere. He couldn’t. Not after what had happened the first time. Tears glistened in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself and to detach himself from his emotions, he gently laid his hand on the side of Stephania’s neck and spoke a few words in the forgotten Centaur language.
There formed, on the right side of the child’s neck, special, red markings that proved her to be a member of the Centaur tribes for the rest of her life.
Just as Artigal was about to hand her over to her new family, Stephania suddenly reached out and placed her hand on the old Centaur’s cheek, her face soft and worried. “Nuse?” She whispered in the Duvarharian Ancient language.
His eyes met hers, and he suddenly felt like he was no longer in the city of Trans-Falls but in a quiet woods, which now only existed in his memories.
A young Duvarharian girl of about four years old sat on a log in front of him, a large smile across her face. She used to call him ‘nuse’ too. He could almost picture her perfectly in his mind as she had been all those years ago—long, silky brown hair, sparkling green eyes, a single dimple in her cheek, her chubby legs swinging as she sat on a fallen tree, a child’s laugh barely parting her young lips.
A sad smile spread across his face, and his heart burned with pain. If only, if only. Clenching his jaw, he swallowed hard, trying to push these painful memories out of his mind.
When he opened his eyes, a tear drew a line down his cheek, and Stephania wiped it away in a sudden show of affection.
“Mewa.” He whispered to Stephania in the Centaur language.
She tilted her head, and a similar tear traced down her cheek. She could feel his pain and see his memories. She couldn’t understand them, but she could understand the pain. Her instincts told her to fill his pain and the void of loneliness and loss within him, and she tried. She threw her arms around Artigal, and he, too shocked to stop himself, hugged her back.
Oh, how he wanted this again! To have a child of his own, even if she was adopted. He bit his lip. Why had life treated him so cruelly? He clenched his jaw against the tears which threatened his composure. He had promised to never again have a child of his own. Being immortal had made him realize how hard it was to watch the people he loved die again and again while he continued to live on. It had made him realize that hardening his heart to those around him was a mercy, but now, that resolution was being shaken to the core.
Gritting his teeth, he shut out the pleading supplications of his heart and suddenly pushed Stephania away from him and into the warm, welcoming arms of Aeron and Frawnden. She would be safe and loved by the leader and his mate. They could be the family Stephania needed; he could not.
Once Stephania looked into the eyes of her new family, Artigal felt the connection break and he sighed with relief. He quickly turned his head from them, his face suddenly cold and unloving, and he furiously buried his past, what was, and what could have been deep within him once more.
His heart no longer sharing in the joy of everyone around him, Artigal disappeared into the forest, leaving the festivities behind him.
Aeron and Frawnden’s faces were bright with exhilaration as they held their new child. A roaring cheer rose from the crowd.
The child of the Prophecy was safe.
Chapter 2
We should send a message to the Dragon Palace to alert them that Stephania is alive and that we are taking her to Dalton.” Aeron quickly pulled out a blank scroll and hastily dipped his quill into the ink.
A gentle hand rested on his, and he looked up.
Artigal’s shimmering, multicolored eyes stared sadly down into Aeron’s.
“No.”
Puzzlement shone clearly on Aeron’s face. “Why not? I’m sure they are looking for her.”
Artigal shook his head. “No. They are not looking for her. They believe that Stephania is in Thaddeus’ control and that the prophecy is dead. They don’t know who the helper is, making the last pieces of the prophecy they have impossible to fit together. They have given up.”
“But surely they would do anything to get her back.”
“What can they do?” The Igentis put his hands behind his back and sighed, refusing to make eye contact with Aeron. “They are extremely outnumbered. They would never survive an attack against Thaddeus’ castle in order to retrieve her. They don’t know why he would want Stephania, other than that he would raise her to not hate him. They have no idea what really lies within her, what the prophecy really gave them.”
Questions spun through Aeron’s head, and he slowly placed his quill on the table, looking at the blank paper. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid you don’t have to nor could you. You must trust me.” Artigal barely glanced over his shoulder at Aeron. “And Duvarharia’s military leader—he mustn’t know we have her. He is not to be trusted.”
“Not to be trusted? But he’s leading them! He is Drox and Andromeda’s ward! They trusted him.”
Artigal thought back to the moments after the battle when he had spoken briefly with Duvarharia’s military commander. It was then that he was told that Duvarharia’s leaders had been killed, and it was then that he had realized the commander was holding something back. “Yes, but there is something he is hiding. I know he will not betray his people, but I fear that through his love and devotion to Stephania and the mystery he guards within him, he will inadvertently destroy them. If he comes after her, he will leave the Dragon Palace defenseless. The Duvarharians, especially their commander, cannot worry themselves over raising a child during war. He must neither be distracted nor tempted by her or Thaddeus. That is why Drox and Andromeda wanted her to be with Dalton in New-Fars to begin with.”
Aeron ran his fingers through his thick hair, untangling a few knots along the way. “You’re right, of course. And I don’t understand, but I will trust you.” He stood up from his couch and met Artigal’s intense gaze.
A sigh of relief left the old Centaur’s lips. “Good. Their military commander, Syrus, must not know she is alive. We must keep her hidden from them as long as we can and then take her to Dalton. He is the only creature outside the Dragon Palace who can truly keep her safe.”
§
“Jargon, do you have any more of that healing salve? I need some for Stephania’s head.” Frawnden wiped Stephania’s warm brow. So far, the child hadn’t shown any obvious signs of trauma pertaining to the loss of her parents. Even so, Frawnden, who had quickly grown quite attached to the red-haired girl, knew more was going on in the child’s mind.
“Umm.” Jargon rustled through his medicine bag and soon pulled out a simple jar with a small label on the lid. “Here. Just make sure you don’t use too much of it. It can cause irritation to a child’s skin.”
Though Frawnden knew this basic information, Jargon still muttered it out of habit, causing his lifelong friend to smile.
They were both very tired from all of the hard work over the last few days after the battle and both were ready for a break. Nevertheless, their work was one that never ended and they were forced to press on. Scooping out a small fingertip of the salve, the Centaur woman smeared it on Stephania’s fevered chest.
“Why do you think she has this magic burn on her chest?”
Jargon stopped what he was doing to look more intently at Stephania’s chest. “I’m not sure,” Jargon drawled carefully. “It definitely is magic, though.”
Frawnden frowned. She knew that the only creature who could have used magic on her was Thaddeus, but it didn’t make any s
ense that Stephania was alive if Thaddeus had really attacked her.
Jargon had his own theories. He instantly recognized the magic to be Corrupt Magic in a curable form, along with a bit of the Fubeźersufa, one of the gentlest but strongest manipulation spells. He began speculating what might have happened between Artigal and Thaddeus, but he didn’t like the conclusion. Somehow, Stephania had been with Thaddeus and he hadn’t wanted to kill her. For some reason, Thaddeus had wanted her alive. Considering this and what he himself knew about spells and the Corrupt Magic in Stephania, Jargon thought the magic wound looked like it was a rebounded spell. Either that, or somehow part of the spell had been blocked by something else. That could possibly mean that Thaddeus himself had a wound similar to that of Artigal’s. However, with Artigal’s weakening control over the Shushequmok, it was more likely that Thaddeus’ wound would only be temporarily crippling instead of fatal like Artigal’s was.
Jargon looked up at Frawnden, who was tickling the solemn girl’s feet. A small smile was almost forming on her young, stony face.
Shaking his head, a smile on his own face, he went back to sorting his medical bags and checking off what he needed more of. It wouldn’t do any good to worry Frawnden or Aeron with his theories, and it wouldn’t be worth it to try and worm the truth out of Artigal.
He felt a sharp tug on his mane and turned around to find Stephania with a fistful of his black hair, her eyes wide with wonder.
“Pretty,” she giggled, gripping the hair tighter.
Smiling with shock and delight, the black-colored Centaur pulled her fist out of his hair, and he too tickled her feet, relishing in her light, trilling laugh.
“She sure is a smart little girl, that’s for sure.” Jargon shook his head with wonder as Stephania gazed silently at him, her eyes alluding that she completely understood all that she saw and heard.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” Frawnden sighed heavily. “She’s growing up faster than the average Dragon Rider. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from rumors.” Her face darkened. “I feel bad having to give her over to Dalton to be raised in a human village. The human children progress so slowly.” She shook her head in mourning, and Jargon readily agreed.
“Perhaps it will be soon after she arrives at New-Fars that she will be able to go back to her real home without much fuss from the humans.” Jargon smiled, his voice bright and hopeful, though his eyes told a different story. The Dragon Palace was suffering from constant Eta attacks, and now, without parents or anyone else to devote much time to her, Stephania would have to stay with Dalton for an even longer span of time.
Frawnden placed Stephania on her back, the babe instantly threading her hands in the Centaur’s soft mane.
“Where is Trojan, do you know?”
While Trojan had been extremely excited to meet his new sister, he had been rudely and accidentally pushed aside by the many high-ranking Centaurs, who wanted to see Ventronovia’s savior for themselves, many of whom remembered their fathers and grandfathers telling them of the Prophecy.
Jargon frowned. “I think he got pushed away from the ceremony a little, and I feel like I recall Aeron telling him to play with the other young Centaurs at the youth training area until you could go and get him.”
Frawnden laughed. “Of course he would.”
Ever since one of the well-respected Centaurs had approached Artigal with the idea about sporting games for the youth, it was all that was talked about among the children, and was an excellent way for the children to learn the ways of war, among other things. Trojan had become quite good at the games and was jumping at every opportunity to go.
As soon as Jargon had replaced all his remedies in his bag, they took off into the forest toward the games.
“Where are we going?”
Frawnden jumped at the light, trilling voice behind her. “Oh!”
She shared a quick, knowing look with Jargon. So Stephania was more developed than normal.
“We are going to find your brother, Trojan.”
Stephania’s little, dark eyebrows shot up before furrowing down into a frown, as if she were contemplating her options. Much to Jargon’s surprise and delight, she threw up her chubby, little hands and let out a chuckle.
“Brother!”
A large smile instantly spread across the mother’s face. “Yes, your brother!” Frawnden was thrilled with how well Stephania was appearing to adjust to the sudden change in family and lifestyle.
As they traveled through the camp, Centaurs swarmed over to the high leader’s mate and admired, with many blessings and questions, the new and strange addition to the tribe.
Finally, after many interruptions, the two medics arrived at the stream and lake which had been partially designated for the youths’ activities.
There were many young Centaurs running wildly around. Some were in organized groups, but many of them were simply running around, swinging fake swords and shooting harmless arrows at each other. Normally, it wouldn’t be so chaotic, but the young Centaurs liked to celebrate just as much as their parents, even if they didn’t quite know why they were celebrating.
After hollering for Trojan for what seemed like an unreasonable amount of time, Frawnden suddenly heard another voice calling Trojan’s name as well; she and Jargon were both thrilled to see that it was Stephania who had joined in, having easily caught on to what they were doing. Finally, one of the older Centaurs realized that it was Frawnden herself along with Chief Medic Jargon who were calling for the leader’s son, and it wasn’t long before the news traveled and Trojan came bursting out of the crowd. He was grinning wildly with elation at seeing his mother, his breath coming in quick gasps from playing so hard.
§
“Mother! What are you doing here?” He was absolutely thrilled that his mother was finally done with talking to the Elders of the Tribe. His heart pounded in his chest. He had a new sister, and a Duvarharian one no less! That was something he alone would be able to boast about. His small chest broadened with pride.
His two young friends—a thin, dark-skinned, black Centaur and a golden one—quickly gathered around him, each of them straining to catch a glimpse of the Duvarharian.
Frawnden smiled softly at her son. “I was wondering if you wanted to spend the rest of the evening with your father and new sister back home.”
Trojan eyes lit up. “Yes, I would love to! Is Father here? I thought he had business to attend to.” He danced around, kicking up his heels, before he caught sight of Stephania, who had poked her head around Frawnden’s torso to see what was going on.
Trojan hadn’t had the chance to see Stephania at great length or spend any time with her, and now he was held spellbound by deep curiosity and awe. It was the first time he had ever seen a creature with only two legs and one of the Duvarharian Kind. He and his friends watched her with amusement and wonder.
Stephania grasped hold of the long, braided hair in front of her and slid off the tall back of the Centaur, landing with surprising grace on her two feet. After regaining her balance, she tottered over to Trojan and gazed up at him in similar wonder.
“Brother.” Her face stern, she solemnly placed her right hand on Trojan’s chest.
Both Jargon and Frawnden had to suppress their delighted laughter, though Stephania was extremely serious.
Trojan blinked several times, a surprised gasp leaping from his lips. She was nothing like what he had expected, and he was delighted at the surprise.
A broad grin spreading across his young, boyish face, he grabbed Stephania’s hand and pulled her over to his mother.
“Mother, please let her ride on my back!” His large, young eyes pleaded pathetically. “I promise I’ll be extra careful and I’ll make sure she doesn’t fall, and I won’t run too fast and—”
With a laugh and a wave of her hand, Frawnden cut him off, her light brown eyes sparkling at her son’s eagerness to welcome Stephania into the family.
The little girl gazed deeply into her new
mother’s eyes with adoration. “Please?” Her eyes were also large and pleading—impossible to refuse.
“All right, you may!” Frawnden finally gave in, and Jargon roared with laughter, nudging his friend with his elbow.
“She has you wrapped around her little mane.” His eyes sparkled jokingly, and she couldn’t help but laugh in agreement.
Even before Frawnden’s words of consent had finished coming out of her mouth, Trojan had already knelt down on his front legs and instructed Stephania to climb onto his back.
With a lopsided grin on the pretty girl’s face, she straddled his back with ease, quiet chuckles coming from her open, red mouth, her eyes sparkling brightly.
“Are you ready?” Trojan inquired gently.
“Yup! Let’s go!” Stephania tapped her heels against his sides, and Trojan started walking slowly after his mother, the two adults already in deep conversation.
“Faster.” Stephania had quickly tired of the slow pace.
“No, Stephania,” the new big brother gently chastised his sister. “We’ll just walk for now.”
Stephania pouted profusely, even though Trojan couldn’t see it. “Please?”
With such manners, Trojan couldn’t help but feel inclined to obey. The young Centaur boy quickly changed his gait from a slow walk to a trot and soon pulled ahead of the two grown-ups.
Stephania’s firm grip around the boy’s waist assured him that she wouldn’t fall off too easily, and he skipped over a few logs here and there, relishing in the laughs and squeals of delight that emitted from his small passenger.
It would be a long walk through the winding wooded road up the mountain that their home had been built into, but Trojan was a long way from tiring.
The longer they walked and talked, the more Stephania got accustomed to her new brother and the more open she was as she spoke to him. Stephania was now deep in conversation with Trojan, and both adults were thoroughly shocked at how wonderfully the child was able to speak and how well she was able to comprehend everything Trojan said.
Child of the Dragon Prophecy Page 4
