The Chronicles of Amberdrake

by Loren K. Jones

  “Got distracted,” he answered with a shrug and crooked grin, drawing a most unladylike snort of amusement from her.

  “Was she that pretty?” she asked playfully, though there was a hint of anger in her eyes.

  “Not a she, Sahren. I found some interesting ruins high in the Mountains of Fear that I just had to investigate. If I hadn’t gotten hungry, I might still be there.”

  “Your forgiveness, Lady. Good sir. May I bring you anything?” the barkeeper asked, straining to see the man clearly in the gloom.

  “Ale. Bread, cheese, and sausage,” the man answered, negligently tossing a silver crown onto the table.

  “Aye, Lord. At once,” the barkeeper said, backing away and bowing respectfully. Silver was an uncommon sight this far out on the borders.

  Sahren all but laughed. “Drake, you really are a show-off.”

  “That’s why you love me,” Drake answered.

  She gave him a sideways grin, then nodded. “So, tell me what could be so interesting that you would make me wait.” Her eyes flashed green for a moment, and Amberdrake cringed. In human or draconian form, Sahrendrake sometimes showed her displeasure in painful ways.

  Drake smiled, then moved his chair over beside her. The barkeeper was returning with a tray laden with enough food for the two of them, though the lady had eaten a short time earlier. He didn’t want to risk angering the young man with her.

  Drake waited for the man to leave before continuing. “Well, I was flying over the mountains on my way here when I spotted an unusual shadow on the side of a mountain.” He sat back and continued telling her the tale as he ate.

  “I was flying leisurely, surveying the land below as I flew. I wasn’t really looking for anything, just looking out of habit. There are few who dare to travel in that desolate land, and no bandits. There’s nothing to steal, and precious little to eat.

  “It was late in the day, and I was preparing to land for the night when I saw a strange, angular shadow. All the other shadows were properly ragged, but this one was an almost straight line. I decided to investigate, and landed just below it.

  “The shadow was cast by the mouth of a cave, but a cave unlike any I’ve ever seen before. It seemed to have been carved into the side of the mountain, and was old enough that the weathered surface of the rock looked the same as the boulders that were strewn about. It was exceptionally dark inside, and I decided to wait until morning to investigate.

  “Late in the night I heard a noise, but it was unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. It was soft, yet it seemed to echo in my ears. I couldn’t ignore it, and I made my way to the entrance of the ruin. There was no way I could fit inside as a dragon, so I took the form of a daemon. I’ll admit that I was just a touch frightened, and wanted claws for protection.

  “The sound continued to draw me on, and my claws encountered little debris once I was past the entrance. I could see a pulsating light ahead, though I doubt I would have seen it in human form. As I drew closer to the source, the sound and light grew stronger.

  “The light had a strange tinge to it, sort of bluish-white. As I entered the chamber the light was coming from, it flared into sun-bright brilliance, blinding me. I dropped to my haunches, covering my eyes, and finally had to take human form to keep from going blind.

  “Once my eyes stopped watering, I looked around the room. It was a large, circular cavern, though it had obviously seen the hand of some intelligent being because all the walls were polished to an almost mirror finish. Even the ceiling was polished. In the center of the cavern I found the source of the light. It was a crystalline outcropping rising from the center of the floor, and it had been carved into the shape of a large egg.” He paused and held his hands three cubits apart. “A very large egg.”

  “Drake, was the crystal nearly clear, but with just a slight hint of blue in it?” Sahren asked, leaning toward him with curiosity burning in her eyes.

  Drake nodded. “Yes, and smoothed to the point that I couldn’t detect any flaws or rough spots.”

  “The Egg of Dracol,” Sahren whispered, her voice tinged with awe and just a touch of fear.

  “The what of who?” Drake asked. “I am afraid I haven’t ever heard of that one.”

  “Ssss!” Sahren hissed, bringing her fingers to his lips. “Softly, Amberdrake! You have found something that is legendary even among dragons. The Egg of Dracol is said to be the first egg. The source of our creation. No dragon has claimed to have seen in it in a hundred centuries.”

  Drake sat very still. He had never been told of the egg, or Dracol. Now he wanted to know. “Tell me,” he all but commanded, but softly so only she heard. “All of it, Sahrendrake. What is the legend?”

  Sahren nodded, and leaned toward him. “Long ago, in the early mists of time, there were no dragons. There was life, without a doubt, but it was simple life. Simple creatures such as we still know, but no intelligent beings. No draigers. No ocellen. Certainly no humans. But there were no dragons either.

  “There were our ancestors, though. Flying reptiles with little beyond instinct to guide them. Then, suddenly, there was something else. A single being, possessed of singular abilities.

  “She was called Dracol, or so she came to be called. No one is certain what she called herself, or what her contemporaries called her. But she lived in a cavern with a magical stone that had changed her ancestors through generation upon generation until she was born, the first dragon.

  “Dracol was no giant such as we, beloved. She and her kind were small, about the size of a small dog. But she possessed magic, and with that magic came intelligence. Dracol began reshaping her world with little thought of the consequences. The little cave that she and her people inhabited became the scene of many failed experiments. Her magic washed over her family and herself, changing them even further. Soon others of her people began to exhibit magical abilities.

  “Dracol and her people became something other than the creatures that they had been born as. As their magic grew, so did their bodies. As their bodies grew, so did their intelligence. The magic grew with them, and soon they emerged to become the premier beings of the world.

  “The lifespan of Dracol and her kind was short, only ten to twelve years, but the magic changed that. They lived very long lives, and their constant use of magic continued to change them. In the end Dracol had sixty offspring. She and her brood took over the cavern and reshaped it, making it a shrine to their power.”

  “And I stumbled onto it.” Amberdrake sighed.

  “Yes. You are not the first, beloved. Others have found that cavern in times long past. Ocellen were originally a type of ocelot until generations of them laired in a certain cave. Draigers were from the same rootstock as we, though they developed differently. And we, through natural selection and careful breeding, have become what we are.”

  “Gods, Sahren. Can you imagine what would happen if humans found that cave and began living there?”

  “Oh, yes. It was one of father’s fears.”

  Drake looked into Sahren’s eyes and read her thoughts. “It will take us three days to fly back.”

  * * *

  The young lord and lady left Arnor’s Reach before the sun rose the next morning. Few saw them ride out of the town, and few cared about their going. The horses the lady purchased were nondescript animals, and she had paid nearly twice their worth in silver without blinking.

  “A rich young woman, indeed,” the stableman muttered to his wife as the pair rode away, “but terribly stupid.”

  Drake and Sahren rode side by side for half of the day, then, near a meadow, they dismounted. Drake looked at Sahrendrake as she transformed into her draconian form, and laughed as she pounced on her horse. Following her example, Amberdrake returned to what had become his natural form, and attacked his own horse. Both animals were gone within moments, and Sahrendrake took to the air, searching for something else to eat. Amberdrake was close on her tail, though not too close. She tended to be a bit snappish wh
en she was hungry.

  A herd of elk learned the fate of the inattentive soon thereafter, and the two dragons gorged on the magnificent animals without a thought. Then, sated, they again took to the air, flying hard to reach the valley of legend.

  Three days of punishing effort delivered the pair to the valley, and Sahrendrake commanded Amberdrake to show her the opening. He pointed with his muzzle, and she immediately went to the opening and transformed to human form. Drake was close behind her as she made her way into the shrine. Light greeted them as they entered the cavern, and Sahrendrake immediately knelt by the egg.

  “Amberdrake, this is incredible. Can you feel it?” she asked, passing her hands over the crystal without touching it.

  “If you mean can I feel the power, yes. Now that I know what it is. This is the sound I heard, the sound that drew me here. The ringing of power in my ears.”

  Sahrendrake hardly heard him. The sight of her species’ creator mesmerized her. She finally dared to touch it, and found the crystal smooth and warm under her fingers. The light was dazzling, yet somehow she was able to look directly into its heart without discomfort.

  Amberdrake took up a position directly across from Sahrendrake and knelt, staring into it as she was doing and seeing her as he had never seen her before. The crystal showed him Sahrendrake in detail, her beautiful physical being and the magical being that lived inside her skin.

  “This is incredible, Sahrendrake,” he whispered.

  “It is beyond that, Amberdrake. Far beyond,” she said in an echoing voice. “This is the beginning of our kind, the beginning of what we are.”

  Amberdrake stood and backed away, suddenly aware that he was treading holy ground. A prickling of superstitious fear shivered up his spine. This is a place that no dragon should ever see, or one that every dragon must see.

  “Sahrendrake, what should we do about this? Who else should we tell?”

  “No one!” Sahrendrake snapped. “No one, Amberdrake. Too many curious dragons coming here would reveal it to the humans. There is no settlement near here, but men occasionally travel these mountains.”

  “Then we must hide it.” Sahrendrake nodded her agreement and stood and turned toward the entrance, only to stop in shock. “Sahrendrake? What is it?” Amberdrake asked, looking at her curiously.

  “Can’t you see her?” Sahrendrake whispered. “Can’t you see?”

  “Welcome, my child,” a spectral voice said, though only Sahrendrake heard it. “Seldom have you children come visiting these long centuries.”

  “Dracol?” Sahrendrake said in a voice husky with emotion.

  “Such is the name I have been given, my child,” the voice answered.

  “Who are you talking to, Sahrendrake?” Amberdrake asked, slightly annoyed at being left out.

  “Can’t you see her?” Sahrendrake hissed, never taking her eyes from the specter in front of her.

  “He cannot. Only those of my line may see me. He is not of the blood.”

  “He was not born a dragon, Ancestress,” Sahrendrake said in the most childlike tone Amberdrake had ever heard from her.

  “Is that why you wear that form, my child? The form your companion was born to?”

  “It is, Ancestress. One of the Old Gods made him a dragon, and he has been my mate for seven seasons.”

  The form shimmered, and suddenly Amberdrake could see her as well. “Speak your name to me, God-child,” the specter commanded.

  “Drake Standralson, called Amberdrake,” Amberdrake said immediately, bowing deeply.

  “Welcome, God-child. You have been here before.”

  “I have, several days ago. I told Sahrendrake...”

  “And she returned with you here. What is it that you seek, daughter?” The specter looked at Sahrendrake, and she could not refuse to answer.

  “Home. The origins of my kind. You, Ancestress.”

  “And so you have found me. Many long years have passed since the last visitor entered here. He came in his own form, though. Take your form so that I may look upon you as you truly are.” The specter waved a foreclaw and Sahrendrake was once again a dragon, though small enough to comfortably stand in the shrine. “And you, God-child.” Again, the specter waved, and Amberdrake joined his mate. “My, you are a handsome one,” the ancient dragoness said as she chuckled.

  “Ancestress, how...”

  “I am here for those who need me, my child. It is happenstance that the God-child found this place. Or perhaps not. He did bring you here.” The specter’s face twisted into a draconian grin. “Leave now, and do not return. You have the answer to your question within yourself. You are the true blood, and in you lies all that was.” The specter began to fade, but she turned to Amberdrake before she faded completely from view. “And in you, God-child, there lies all that will be.” With that final cryptic remark she was gone, leaving two bewildered youngsters in her wake.

  “What did she mean by that, Sahrendrake? What did she mean that in me lies all that will be?”

  “You are the future of dragon-kind, Amberdrake. In me is the old-blood, her line through time unknowable. But your new blood is the future of our species.”

  Amberdrake cocked his head to the side, looking at his mate carefully. “How long until our first clutch hatches?”

  “Three centuries,” she replied, looking back into his eyes.

  “We really need to watch those kids, Sahrendrake. If she,” he nodded toward where the specter had been, “is right, then it isn’t me, but my get that will change draconian kind.”

  “Our get,” Sahrendrake snapped, following it up with a real snap that just barely missed his muzzle. “You males! Who does all the work? Who carries the eggs? Who lays the eggs? Who hides the eggs? Harrumph!”

  Amberdrake, the most powerful dragon-mage that had ever lived, held his head close to the floor of the cavern as his favored mate scolded him and simply said, “Yes, Sahrendrake.”

  The two dragons left the cavern, Sahrendrake leading the way to the valley floor. When they looked back there was no sign that anything but virgin rock made up the wall.

  “As the legend says,” Sahrendrake whispered. “We will not be able to find it again. Not until another draws her attention.”

  “Then let’s leave. We still have the festival in Greater Westport to attend.” He grinned at her. “I really think you’re going to like it.” His grin made her laugh, and the pair took to the air as a spirit sighed.

  “Fly high, daughter. The God-child’s blood will change us, as the blood of God-children has changed us in the past.”

  * * *

  Now both Mellody and Rochelle were giggling. “I’d love to meet her,” Rochelle gasped.

  “She certainly knows how to handle you, Drake!” Mellody howled.

  Even Saunder was grinning. “She sounds like a—formidable—mate, Drake.”

  “Oh, yes. Very formidable. But it will be ninety-nine years before I will see her again.”

  “Until then,” Mellody said as she smiled at him, “you are my mate.”

  Adventure 16

  The Merciless Mage of Woodberry

  LEAVES CRUNCHED UNDER A YOUNG MAN’S feet as he walked up the road to the city of Woodberry. He was nothing extraordinary to look at, at least at first glance. Bystanders let their eyes linger for a moment, then pass on as if he was nothing, for he was nobody they knew or cared to know. He was just another wandering beggar.

  The young man didn’t return anyone’s glance. He was careful of that. He knew they were dismissing him, and he was quite pleased that they did. The lowest of the low, the dust beneath even the lowliest servant’s feet, such as he were never really noticed. Never cared for. Never remembered.

  A small, satisfied smiled crossed his lips. If anyone had bothered to look at him, at his golden eyes, they would have remembered. It had only been twenty-five years since he had walked these streets in another guise. In those days he had been a man of wealth and power. A man who commanded others. A Lor
d of the highest order. Now he appeared to be just twenty-five. Anyone who remembered his face from those days would think him his own son. Or grandson.

  He smiled beneath his concealing cover of dirt and grime, and decided on a name. He had used dozens over the years, but he always came back to one: Drake Standralson, the name he’d been given at birth.

  His feet had carried him to the temple run by the Sisters of Mercy, a religious order he had generously provided for during his previous visit, and he was welcomed into the order’s great enclosure.

  “Gracious, child, you look all in. Come, come, let’s get you clean,” the sister who sat at the door said as soon as he set foot in her domain. Her hand was soft and gentle on his arm as she guided him through the building. She led him to another door, and it opened as they approached. A man stepped out and smiled.

  “Thank you, Sister Elise. I’ll see to him from here.” The man’s voice was gentle and he guided Drake toward what looked like a public bath. “Do you have a name?”

  “Drake, sair. Son of Standral,” he replied.

  “Well Drake, son of Standral,” the man began as he put a foot out and pushed Drake toward a waiting pool of water, “you’ll forget your name in time while you work the mines.”

  Drake stumbled and fell into the water, and four burly men jumped in with him. All four of them were easily half again Drake’s size, and they stripped him to the skin, washed him roughly with lye soap, then trussed him up with heavy ropes. A piece of cord as thick as his thumb was tightened in his mouth as a gag, and he was dragged around to see the man who had pushed him standing by the edge of the pool.

  “Did you really think we’d just feed and clothe you?” he asked as the men around them laughed. “You’ll be fed what the other slaves eat at the mines. You’ll wear what the other slaves wear at the mines. And when you die deep in the ground, you’ll receive the mercy of the gods, just like the other slaves.” He gestured imperiously, and the four men carried Drake’s bound body up a set of stairs.

  Drake was forced to walk down a long corridor and was roughly shoved into a dimly-lit room that held a dozen other poor young men. He fell, and the door slammed behind him, muffling the laughter of the men who had captured him.