Child of the Dragon Prophecy

by Effie Joe Stock

  She frowned. I suppose that makes sense.

  “Now that you have strengthened your mind and are able to control the magic more, you can concentrate it into specific actions, like levitating sticks. Since all magic is just an unnatural transfer of energy, the bigger the spell, the bigger the difference between your unnatural effect on the environment and the natural effect. Make sense so far?”

  She nodded slowly. This was a lot to take in. She hadn’t realized it was so complicated.

  “So how come magic isn’t natural? I thought it was the dumb beasts of the forest who weren’t natural in this land.”

  “That is true, to some extent. In reality, we are all the same. Depending on your worldview, it’s all a little different. The majority of the Dragon Riders have always believed in some divine creator, as does the rest of the land, though each ‘religion’, so to speak, is a little different.”

  Thoroughly intrigued by this new topic, she sat a little straighter. He had never taught her religion, preferring to instruct her only that which he could prove with absolute fact. Instead of pushing for the direct answer to her original question, she inquired further. “How are they different?”

  “Good question. The Wyriders, also known locally as Džoxsenä, meaning People of New Birth, live in Wyerland. They believe in many different divine beings that each have a role in the world, whether it be childbirth, animals, water, the afterlife or anything like that. Then the humans, well, they don’t really know what they think, and it seems most of them just don’t even care. Even so, many of them, especially the scientific ones who are trying to destroy the magical world and who are inadvertently helping Thaddeus, tend to think that there is no divine creator or rulers of this world, and believe that they themselves are as mighty as it gets. And then, lastly, the Duvarharians. They believe in one great Creator, who made all that we see in the beginning of time and that he has blessed certain Kinds like the Fauns and Centaurs and the Dragon Riders. Through this blessing, they were given the extraordinary gifts of magic or reading the stars. Then there are even other legends that aren’t tied to any particular race at all. Some say that those are the legends which are the truth, others say they came from a race long destroyed.”

  Her eyes slowly widened with awe. “What are they?”

  Dalton shrugged and snapped off a low-hanging branch, slowly breaking bits off it and letting them fall to the ground. “Stories of huge, magnificent beasts which used to walk the earth—the first creatures, they were called. They destroyed or created whatever they wanted to, shaping the world and forming it. Out of their battles raged terrible death, but also the birth of new creatures, which became a part of the world.”

  Stephania’s eyes sparkled. I wonder what it was like before time itself.

  “Legends also speak of another realm just above us, the sky realm—Hanluurasa. It is a world made out of and in the cosmos with cities made of star dust and the hearts of young and old planets. They say it was the ‘between’ world of all other worlds, connecting them all together and watching their fate from the skies. During that time when the foundations of Rasa had yet to be laid, the legends speak of a gateway which freely opened between Hanluurasa and Rasa. The creatures of the land were able to travel freely to the sky and vice-versa.”

  “Woah.” She bit her lip with excitement. How much more magical this land was than she had thought! Was there really a sky realm? Was there really a way to cross into it? “So why isn’t it still like that?”

  He shrugged. “Some say the people of Hanluurasa finally closed the bridge and let Rasa rest in peace. Because the energy from the sky was cut off from the land, the great beasts which once roamed our planet either died or went to sleep. Others say that the great ruler of Rasa, whether it be the Creator of the Duvarharians or one of the many gods from the polytheistic Wyriders, closed the door and settled the foundations of the world, putting the beasts into a slumber until they will be needed again at the end of the world.”

  “The end of the world?”

  Dalton nodded. “Some believe that the sky will be torn open once again and the creatures will be awakened to destroy and remake the planet once again.”

  “Incredible. That is just—” She shook her head, nearly squirming with excitement. “So what happened to the star people who lived here and the land creatures who lived there? In the sky realm, I mean.”

  Once again, Dalton shrugged and shifted his weight in the saddle. “I guess some were stuck in Hanluurasa. Most legends say they became the stars or that pieces of their souls were used to make new planets. But it also says the creatures who came down here were given the job of being mediators between Hanluurasa and Rasa. They were given the gift of understanding their homeland’s language and dances and are still thought to live among us.”

  “Wait, you mean they’re the—incredible.” Her eyes were wide. She didn’t know if she could believe it all. It seemed too far-fetched, too fantastical. Could something so amazing be real?

  His own eyes sparkling, Dalton nodded. “Yes. According to legend, the Centaurs and Fawns are originally from Hanluurasa, and while their physical appearances are different than they were so many years ago, they are essentially still children of the sky. But of course, remember this is all just myth. It isn’t based on any facts and cannot be proven.”

  “Well, of course.” She didn’t let that dampen her mood. “But still. Gods of all. That’s—” She shook her head, unable to control her smile or find words for what she was feeling. “That’s incredible.”

  Dalton turned his face to the sky. Though it was midday, it was unusually dark. “I wonder if it will snow?” he mused more to himself than her, but she hoped to any gods that might exist that it wouldn’t.

  She cast a sideward glance at him and took a deep breath. “So, what do you believe, and how does all of this tie into magic being natural or unnatural?”

  One of his warm smiles from her childhood lightened his face. “That’s where it gets tricky.”

  “For now, we’ll just focus on the Duvarharian’s way of thinking, since that is the culture which you will soon rule over. So, if one all-powerful Creator made all of this and made everyone and everything the same, so to speak, then it’s all natural.”

  He looked at her expectantly, and she merely nodded, not wanting to ruin this with one of her spontaneous, ill-timed thoughts.

  “After certain Kinds pleased him, like the Centaurs and the original Dragon Riders, which, by the way, the humans and Wyriders later came from …”

  “Really?” Her mouth dropped open when he nodded. “Gods of all.” It felt like her world had been turned upside down. Humans, Dragon Riders, and Wyriders were all related? It was almost too much to take in.

  “Anyways, after those certain Kinds pleased him, the Creator blessed them with great gifts of power—the power of the Creator. That would make these powers supernatural, or unnatural. Do you still follow?”

  Her eyes widened. It made perfect sense. She nodded violently. “But then, how do we have lesser races like the humans and Wyriders, if in the beginning, there were only the Dragon Riders?”

  Dalton took a deep. “According to the Duvarharians, a rebellion occurred, but it wasn’t just against the other dragons and riders, it was against the Creator Himself.”

  Stephania’s dark eyebrows shot up. “That wouldn’t go over well, I’m sure.”

  He shook his head, chuckling. “No, it didn’t. According to their legends, those Dragon Riders became too prideful. They believed they were greater than the Creator Himself and thought they could be their own gods. They got their punishment. Banished from the ever-prosperous land of Adriva, they were stripped of their powers, and worst of all, their ability to bond with dragons.”

  “What’s Adriva? I thought we were talking about Dragon Riders from Duvarharia.”

  A chuckle parted his lips, and he rubbed his cold hands together. “The first Dragon Riders lived in the country of Adriva, and the Dragon Rider�
��s race is actually called Raźuźugub, which means ‘Chosen People’ because they were chosen by the Creator. They were later driven out of Adriva and founded a new country—Duvarharia.”

  “Okay.” Her face wrinkled as she pondered what he’d said. “I suppose that makes sense. So, why wouldn’t the Creator just destroy them if they were so disobedient? That’s what I would’ve done.”

  “I would have too.” Dalton agreed. “But they say it was because He, the Creator, I mean, loved them like His own children, for they were His chosen people, having been the creatures He blessed in the beginning. And, rather than destroy so many lives, He let them go on in their ignorance, maybe to one day turn back to Him.”

  “By the gods.” Her eyes widened. “He’s got a lot of love. And patience.”

  Dalton’s crooked smile caused his eyes to sparkle as he laughed.

  “Yes, He does. At least, according to Duvarharian legend, of course. This is all just theory.”

  “Of course.”

  “After that, there were many peaceful years for a long time, until a different rebellion took place. This time, the rebels were only against the other dragon men. They fought and quarreled over rights and laws and what have you until the rebels just decided to leave. But because they were separated from the other more pure Dragon Riders, and because they didn’t accept some of the laws that were supposedly laid down by the Creator, they lost a little of their power too. They can’t bond with dragons and their magic isn’t as strong. Since then, they have fallen from even that glory and are now considered by the Duvarharians to be an evil, pagan race. They loathe the Duvarharians with a deep and complete all-consuming hate; their children’s children blame their fallen state on being kicked out of the dragon’s land instead of the truth, which is that they left. Thus, you have the Wyriders. That is why Džoxsenä means ‘people of new birth’ in their language.”

  “Amazing. So, how do you know all of this? All the legends and religions, I mean. Do all Duvarharians know this?”

  He chuckled quietly and played with a leaf, using a bit of magic to levitate it and send it spiraling though the air. “No. Gods, no. I was a historian at the Dragon Palace. It was my job to make sure the legends weren’t forgotten, were preserved, and properly recorded. Much knowledge can be derived from history, if only you are willing to learn.”

  A tender smile spread across his face when he recognized the excitement and awe she felt shone brightly from her eyes.

  “Amazing.” She took a few deep breaths and shifted her weight. Spikes of pain shot up her leg, and she slapped her thigh, trying to get her blood flowing again. “That’s amazing.” Her thoughts raced through her head over and over again as she processed them. Then she realized something. Dalton had yet to answer one of her questions.

  “So, what do you believe in?” It was a risky question. She had always known Dalton didn’t like talking about personal beliefs.

  His demeanor instantly switched from excited and proud to anxious and irate.

  “Uh, well,” he said wringing his hands. “Oh, well, that’s not really important. Let’s just—” He turned his eyes from hers. “Let’s just go back to the magic trace. Anyhow, so, in order to protect yourself from creatures that seek out magic traces, especially other Duvarharians, you have to actually release another spell—one that comes back through and wipes the trace clean. It is extremely complicated, seeing that you can’t leave a trace with that spell. There is one other way to cover up a magic trace, and that is to make sure it’s never even there to begin with.”

  The corners of her lips tugged down. “How do you do that?”

  “By concentrating every ounce of the magic you release into the spell you are accomplishing. It’s extremely rare to have the power and concentration to do such a thing though, and is widely considered impossible.”

  She nodded to show that she was following him. “So if it’s all so hard to do, then how are you able to do it?”

  He shook himself back to attention, and she could tell that his mind was still dwelling on her question about what he believed in.

  He sneered. “I’m not able to. I’m only scattering our magic to make it more confusing. I have neither the skill nor the power to actually cover it up.

  “Oh.” She realized that meant he wouldn’t be able to teach her. It was like he could read her thoughts.

  “But don’t worry.” He smiled. “I’ll teach you what I do know.”

  She grinned and let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. “Why do we call them spells? Is it the same as the spell-weaving that humans do?”

  He scowled. “No. What humans do as spell-weavers is an abomination to themselves and magic. It’s usually either a pact formed between a human and a magical creature where they serve each other, usually for an evil end, or a human traps a magical creature and forces the magic to work for them. Again, usually only for an evil end. The magical creature usually goes mad and dies because of the abuse.”

  Stephania recoiled in disgust. She couldn’t imagine being trapped and forced to give up her magic. It only made her hate the villagers of New-Fars all the more for calling her that.

  “So, now what?”

  “Now you just need to practice.”

  For the rest of the day, she practiced under his careful supervision. By the end, she was able to sense her own and Dalton’s trace and was able to scatter a minuscule fraction of her own trace. It was a useless amount, her magic trace was still like a shining beacon, but it was a start.

  When she felt that she was too tired to even stand, they made camp and she curled up in her blankets. The cold once more descended upon her, and she shivered, scowling bitterly, before rolling closer to the fire. As she stared into the hypnotizing flames, she wondered what tomorrow would bring—something she hadn’t thought about in months.

  She stared for a long time at the stars. They seemed so familiar but so distant. Sometimes it almost seemed like they were speaking to her, but when she listened to them, they fell silent.

  Rolling over, she gazed tenderly at Dalton, who had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

  The unease settled back inside her. Her actions had more effect than she had known. Dalton was losing his magic because of her, and yet he didn’t mind. He loved her that much. She rolled back over, tears stinging her throat and eyes. She remembered the pain, the loss she had seen in his eyes when he had talked about his dragon. “In her place I have an empty chasm, a hollow pit of darkness where a piece of my soul once was. The more magic I use, the bigger it grows.” The furs were soft under her fingers as she gripped them to her chest. Perhaps I have been too selfish. I am not the only one who has lost everything. She frowned. No, not everything. We have each other. That should be enough. But then why do I feel so empty and alone?

  She closed her eyes after gazing at the stars for a while, trying desperately to rid herself of the unease that clung to her like frost on grass. As she fell asleep, images of Wyriders, humans, forest children, and Duvarharians all danced around in her head, each with their gods fighting over who was right and who was wrong. Then, in one swipe, they were all knocked aside by a power greater than all others—a power both beautiful and terrible, one of creation and destruction. It filled the land and all inside of it, and nothing could exist outside of it.

  Stephania turned over in her sleep, disturbed by her dream. What did it mean, if anything?

  Chapter 31

  New-Fars, Human Domain

  Nearly 3 Years Earlier

  Stephania, the mares are over here.” Dalton raised his eyebrow, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He shook his head and followed the young woman’s gaze to the snorting stallion.

  “Amazing.” Stephania’s eyes sparkled with brilliant life. “He’s … perfect.” Her hands gripped the wooden fence. Her knuckles turned white.

  The stallion snorted again, his nostrils flaring, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the mid-morning light. His stron
g, black hooves pawed the ground nervously. He pressed himself against the other side of the small pen, his sides heaving anxiously.

  “Gods of all.” He ran his fingers through his rough brown hair. Glancing quickly to his right, he cringed at the horse dealer.

  The kind-faced trader only smirked back, showing he would wait for Dalton to restrain the eager girl before continuing on to the more behaved mares and geldings.

  “Stephania, there is no way I’m buying you that horse. It’s impossible to get close to him, let alone ride him. Please, let’s move on.”

  She shook her head, stepping up onto the first bar of the fence.

  The horse screamed at the movement and reared up, pawing at the air.

  Stephania pursed her lips. “Please, Uncle Dalton. He just needs someone to care for him.” Her sparkling eyes dulled.

  Dalton’s own eyes roamed over the young horse’s muscular but skinny body, stopping on its flanks and rear legs. Brutal signs across the horse’s body told him that the horse had been whipped, beaten, and hobbled with spiked iron shackles. The horse’s fear and anxiety were obviously the wretched result of that abuse.

  Scowling, a flame of anger sparked in him for the horse’s scarred body and horrific disposition, and Dalton turned to the dealer. “Where did you obtain this horse?”

  The man’s bright, kind face darkened. “Just east o’ ’ere in a neighborin’ town. ’E was dirty as a pig and being auctioned off for only as much as a chicken. I felt bad leavin’ ’im. Thought I could get some coin off ’im if I could clean ’im up and break ’im in.” He shrugged his shoulders and spat on the ground. “Thing’s a beast. ’E won’t let me near ’im. Almost broke my left knee two weeks ago. ’E barely eats ’e so scared. I’m ’fraid I’ll ’afta put ’im down if ’e don’t sell soon.”