Darius and the Dragon's Stone

by D. L. Torrent

The long days passed slowly. In the morning, Barsovy would teach Darius defense, and in the afternoon training would switch to offense. At lunchtime, Darius sat under the same shaded tree he had shared with his friend, Prydon. He would glance at Loklan, exchange a faint smile, and turn to his own thoughts. Loklan would turn and, Darius assumed, do the same.

  Darius wondered what Loklan’s story was—what happened to his father, Norinar. Knowing a conversation with the young man would be forbidden, especially since the altercation they had exchanged, Darius instead focused his attentions on his own studies.

  The small animal that had stolen Darius’s lunch that first day now made a habit of greeting him. Its head would poke out from underneath the shelter of the rock, its nose twitching, and Darius would toss a bit of bread or meat to the ground. The creature would then amble toward the food, sit back on its hind legs, and begin to eat. It no longer retreated to its protective home and would sit with Darius as long as food was made available.

  “So, how’s your training coming along?” Darius smiled when the animal squeaked as if it understood. “Is that so? Maybe we should practice together sometime. No? Well, I suppose that is for the best. You look a formidable foe if I ever saw one.”

  And so the conversation would go until lunch was over. The animal would withdraw back into the shade of its rock, and Darius would head back into the heat of the field.

  A week later, Barsovy appeared at the field holding a sword and staff. “Since you have no sword or staff of your own, I am providing these training weapons. You can use all manner of techniques and spells, and you will do no harm to me. We will start with the sword. Are you ready?” Barsovy propped the staff against a tree and handed the sword to Darius.

  “Ready?” A guarded trepidation came over Darius as he stared at the weapon. The last time he’d tried to use a sword, he’d been a complete failure, a fumbling idiot in his opinion, and he hoped he wouldn’t display the same inadequacy now.

  “Indeed!” and Barsovy began his attack.

  The response happened so quickly, there was no time for Darius to protest, and for over a week, Barsovy challenged Darius’s abilities. Barsovy wielded his weapon with ease, a man of incomparable skill and honed technique. At first, Darius flailed about, dropping his sword and, had it not been for the protection of the training spell administered on the weapon, threatening to dismember a toe or two. He even managed to skewer the rock where his newfound friend met him during lunch each day. It was several days before Darius could entice the little animal to come out to eat with him again, and Darius wondered if he’d ever learn to safely handle this deadly weapon.

  As the week came to an end and Darius became more intimate with the feel of the sword, Barsovy began to show him advanced techniques and strategies and how to discern the subtle movements of an enemy to anticipate their next move.

  “It’s not enough,” panted Darius after an intense session of sparring. “I’m still too slow! I’m not reading your moves well enough!”

  “You are progressing just fine,” snapped Barsovy. “What do you expect?”

  “I expect I need to train more,” retorted Darius as if it should have been obvious to the old man.

  Barsovy’s lips skewed to the side, and he stroked his beard. His eyes became thin slits, and Darius wasn’t sure if his words had pushed Barsovy too far. Speaking to his master with such disrespect surely would gain him nothing but retribution.

  “There is something I can do,” said Barsovy, finally. “I will give you my shadow.”

  Darius paused. Was a shadow some form of punishment? Darius wanted to say something, but what would be appropriate? He squeaked, “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” still concerned about what the shadow might be.

  “Pish-posh! Now go. Eat. I will meet you later.” And with that, Barsovy vanished.

  The old wizard’s habit of appearing and vanishing without warning was something Darius wondered if he would ever get used to. He smiled, shook his head, and with an amused sigh went traveled the short hike back to his hut.

  As always, a delicious meal was waiting for him. He sat and ate, but his curiosity and excitement about a shadow held his attention, and he hardly tasted the food. He continually looked around, waiting for Barsovy to emerge. After some time, however, the excitement began to wane. The food was gone, even though Darius didn’t recall eating it. But his stomach was full, so he went to the ledge and sat as the sun was setting. Darius had almost given up when the old man appeared.

  Barsovy said nothing but drew a circle around himself on the ground. He closed his eyes and held his hands up to the sky. Barsovy’s lips moved ever so slightly, but Darius heard no words. Suddenly, with a clap of thunder, Barsovy threw his hands downward and slammed them against his thighs. When he stepped from the circle, a smoky image of himself stood silently, completely still as if it were waiting for something.

  Darius, his jaw dropping, stared.

  “With this, you may train,” said Barsovy as if he had done nothing more than hand Darius a training sword.

  Darius choked out one word. “What?”

  “My shadow,” answered Barsovy. “As I can obviously not be with you every moment of the day, you may use my shadow to train in the evenings. But do not overwork yourself. I expect the same energy and effort when you are with me on the training fields as any other day!” Barsovy’s brows frowned at Darius as if threatening him to defy his command.

  “How…how does it work?” Darius asked.

  “It is only a shadow. Any strike you make will pass right through it. Likewise, any attack it makes will pass through you. No harm. No pain. Nothing. But, you will be able to practice technique.” Barsovy waited for no response but instantly disappeared into the night.

  “All right, then,” Darius responded to the spot where Barsovy no longer stood.

  The shadow stood there, its eyes empty as if it was a misty statue, unaffected by wind or anything else. Darius moved closer and ran his hand through the figure. The shadow remained unaltered and motionless.

  “Well, let’s see how you…work,” said Darius, walking to the hut and retrieving his sword.

  When he faced the shadow and raised the blade, ready to spar, the shadow abruptly came to life. It quickly lunged and skewered Darius. The young wizard leapt back with a scream and examined his midsection. While Darius rubbed his stomach, the shadow again attacked, this time beheading him. Well, it would have if it had been effective.

  “Whoa!” yelled Darius, and he took stance and immediately returned the blow.

  Practice continued. He was surprised that when he or the shadow did manage a block an attack, it was as if an invisible force prevented the swords from passing through each other. It was only when a block failed that the other’s sword would pass through its opponent.

  For over an hour, the volley continued. Darius was tired and thirsty, but he wasn’t sure how to make the shadow stop. He could imagine himself sitting on the cliff’s edge to rest while the shadow danced behind him, slicing his body. That had the potential to be quite annoying. Darius contemplated the situation, but as quickly as it had come to life, the shadow returned to its original state, a smoky statue standing next to the clearing. Somehow the shadow knew that Darius was done.

  Darius lowered his sword and paused only a moment as he turned away, to make certain the shadow wasn’t planning another attack. “All right, then,” he exhaled, this time to Barsovy’s shadow, and he went and sat on the side of his cliff.

  Darius sipped some cool water and glanced over at the shadow Barsovy. Even though there was no real contact when they sparred, the practice was effective, and he was confident about the training. His eyes turned back to the serenity of the valley. It was as it always was—peaceful. Darius closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  His eyes flew open when he sensed there was someone near, someone other than the shadow. He turned around to see Loklan emerge from behind a small cluster of bushes.

  “Hello,”
Loklan said, scuffing the toe of his boot in the dirt.

  “Hello,” said Darius. Loklan stood there in awkward silence until Darius finally added, “Well, come sit down if you want.”

  Loklan sat and glanced back at the shadow version of Barsovy. “Do you think he’ll know?”

  Darius squinted and looked around his shelter and clearing. There was no sign of the real Barsovy, and the shadow remained in its dormant state. “I don’t think so.”

  Loklan looked down toward the valley, and it was several moments before he spoke. “I…um…I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for suspecting you. Barsovy told me of your curse…and Klavon.”

  Darius only nodded.

  “So where’s your dragon?” asked Loklan. “I mean, your…friend.”

  “He had something he needed to do. I don’t know,” replied Darius, and both boys became quiet, staring at the valley below.

  Finally, Loklan broke the silence. “Does it hurt? The mark?”

  Darius held out his hand and inspected the red tendrils that weaved so decidedly around his wrist and hand. “Sometimes…at least it used to. I think it’s worse when I’m angry as if I’m letting the poison into my blood… if that makes any sense.”.”

  “That’s horrible. Everyone gets angry sometimes,” said Loklan.

  “Yes,” said Darius. “So maybe it’s not the anger itself but my reason for the anger. Like if I’m being foolish or feeling sorry for myself and I take it out on someone or something around me.”

  “So you really have to go fight him? Klavon?”

  Darius nodded, and Loklan’s head swayed as if trying to solve some sort of mental puzzle.

  “I’m scared,” said Darius. Then he looked away, surprised at his own admission.

  Darius had long since pushed that feeling aside, but something about talking to another wizard his own age, going through what he was in training, and the connection between his father and Loklan’s simply felt like he could trust the boy…could call him “friend.” He could see from the edge of his vision that Loklan was looking sideways at him.

  “It’s going to be alright,” said Loklan. “Barsovy will make sure you are ready. And you have a dragon to help as well.” There was a moment’s pause as Loklan sat back upright, and then he said quietly, “And I’ll help if possible.”

  Darius turned to face him. “I appreciate that, but I’m not sure how you can.”

  “What if we train extra at night…together?”

  “That would be…nice,” said Darius, glancing over at Loklan and then down into the valley.

  The two boys sat, side by side, for several long moments. A true connection was born, and Darius felt much less alone. He smiled to himself, and then he looked at Loklan. He had been so focused on his own situation he had forgotten the very real pain that Loklan must be enduring as well.

  Gently, Darius said, “I’m sorry about your father.”

  It was Loklan’s turn to nod, and Darius thought he saw Loklan gulp back tears.

  “I never knew mine,” added Darius.

  There was another long silence as the two boys sat overlooking the serene valley. Darius knew how it felt to lose a father, but his was an ache of loss that comes from years of never knowing—wondering what it would have been like had his father been a part of his life.

  Loklan had those years, so his pain was new and sharp—a pain that can only be felt when someone is ripped suddenly from your life. And to add to his grief, Loklan wasn’t even allowed the luxury of mourning.

  His thoughts were interrupted when Loklan said suddenly, “So what is that? I saw you fighting it.”

  “Want to give it a try?” Darius asked.

  “Can I?”

  “Sure,” said Darius, jumping up. He reached a hand down to Loklan, and unlike at their first meeting, the boy smiled and took his hand.

  They walked over to the shadow, and Darius handed Loklan his sword. As soon as Loklan held it in his hands, the shadow came to life.

  Darius laughed when the shadow sliced Loklan in half, and as Loklan grabbed his stomach in surprise, the shadow struck through his neck.

  “Whoa! This is weird!” screeched Loklan.

  “You’ll get the hang of it,” said Darius, smiling and leaning against a nearby tree.

  It didn’t take long, and Darius’s new friend quickly figured things out. In time, Loklan appeared to tire, and as if on cue, the shadow returned to its dormant state.

  “That’s amazing!” said Loklan, breathless but grinning from ear to ear. “But, I’d best be off. If we don’t get some rest before tomorrow, Barsovy will have our hides.”

  Loklan handed the sword back to Darius and reached out with his other in a handshake. Darius took both and returned the content grin.

  “Until next time?” asked Loklan as he headed for the brush.

  Darius smiled, “Next time, we spar together so bring your sword.”

  That night, exhausted, Darius slept. The shadow continued to teach him in his dreams, but somehow his sleep was sound. He awoke rested and prepared for another day at the field.

  Day after day, Darius would learn much from Barsovy. Night after night, he would learn much from the shadow.

  Loklan would join later, and the two would spar each other. And while the protective spell prevented either from harming the other, they still had bruises and scrapes to show for their efforts, sometimes comparing them as if each were glorious battle wounds.

  Occasionally, the two would gang up on the shadow, but as the two sharpened their skills, so did the shadow. It was never easy, and the friends quickly became extremely proficient with the sword.

  Sometimes, after Loklan had left, Darius would continue to lung and parry outside his hut, way above the valley and well into dark, as the starlit dragon hovered above, keeping diligent watch over him.

  By the time Darius completed the sword phase of his training, he felt as if it was a natural extension of his own body. His movements were fluid and his technique honed. He could defend himself effectively against Barsovy, and Barsovy assured him that he was not holding back.

  “Do you really believe I would pretend to be weak? And just how do you think that would serve you?” Barsovy would exclaim. “Enough of your self-doubt! If I say your swordsmanship is impressive, then it’s impressive, and I’ll not hear another word about it! Now, let’s get to work on the wizard’s lifeblood.”

  The staff. This was the true power of the wizard, and Darius grew to respect his fate where once he hated it. For the remainder of the month, with staff in hand, he practiced all the spells Barsovy taught him until they became second nature.

  Barsovy modified his shadow, and instead of a sword, it now wielded a staff. “Each spell will have a distinct look and color,” said Barsovy, and he went through the spells so that Darius would recognize them simply on appearance. “If it explodes upon you, then you failed to adequately defend against it. Likewise, if your spells explode upon the shadow, it has failed to adequately defend itself against you.”

  Darius gave it a few tries before saying, “I think I’ve got it.”

  “Oh,” said Barsovy, “and one more thing. Loklan? You can come out now.”

  Loklan sheepishly appeared from behind some brush. “Um…”

  “Um nothing!” exclaimed Barsovy. “Did you not think I would know? Either of you?”

  Darius tried to offer an explanation, but Barsovy held up his hand.

  “You both know this is against the rules, but I am also aware of the extraordinary progress you both have made. Given that yours is a special case, Darius, and that Loklan is somehow tied to your fate—”

  “Tied to my—”

  “Yes! Now, do not interrupt me again,” said Barsovy. “…I have allowed this to continue unfettered. However, the staff is tricky and will require you both to apply the utmost concentration.”

  Barsovy drew a circle on the ground around himself as he had done before. Closing his eyes and muttering so slightly, thun
der again clapped to the ground as Barsovy’s raised hands slammed down against his thighs. When he stepped from the circle, a second smoky image of himself stood silently.

  “As I said before,” said Barsovy, “the staff is not the sword and will require individual training. Therefore, you both will have shadows with which to train.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Loklan.

  “I assume you heard the directions I gave Darius regarding how this works?” asked Barsovy.

  “Sir?” asked Loklan.

  “You were in the bushes the entire time, were you not?” Barsovy said with some hint of exasperation.

  “Yes…I was.”

  “Then I will leave you two to your training,” said Barsovy, and in an instant, he was gone.

  “Does that mean I don’t have to sneak up here anymore?” whispered Loklan.

  “You do not,” replied a voice, from out of nowhere, that sounded very much like Barsovy’s.

  The boys hesitated and then broke into hysterical laughter. It continued until both boys were holding their stomachs and wiping tears from their eyes.

  “We should have known better,” said Darius.

  “Yes,” replied Loklan.

  The two soon turned toward their shadows and began their evening training.

  While the spells cast were unable to inflict any harm, Darius knew what he was battling and if he was or wasn’t successful. First he focused on defense, deciding which counter-spell would be most effective, and in time he learned to use his staff quite efficiently to defend himself.

  Barsovy was correct. The staff required complete concentration, so he understood why he and Loklan had been indulged with a second shadow.

  When Darius completed what he knew in defensive spells, he focused on offense, attacking the shadow and learning from its reactions. He discovered what spells produced what response and quickly learned how to select his next attack to maximize the previous.

  At times, the boys would watch each other and offer suggestions. And as before, when Loklan would retire, Darius would continue to train.

  On the training fields, he was soon better prepared to spar with Barsovy.

  “Perhaps I should cast a shadow for all my students,” Barsovy said. “Although I am not sure they possess the motivation that you enjoy, Darius.”

  Darius smiled. His time practicing at his hut allowed Barsovy to focus on technique, a skill that would help Darius to cast without thought—a skill that would be invaluable in his battle with Klavon.

  With Prydon gone, Loklan filled some of the void, but there were still moments of loneliness. Although Loklan was a dear friend, his battle with Klavon was one he would face alone, and this forever lingered in his thoughts. Even Prydon could not change that.

  Darius sat at the edge of the cliff. The sun had gone to sleep, the far mountain its blanket, and as the sky darkened, fireflies slowly appeared from their hiding places. Campfires from other trainees soon popped up in the distance, and stars slowly begin to fill the deep blue sky, decorating the indigo backdrop with shimmering pearls. Darius lay back and looked up.

  He smiled as he thought again of Loklan, but he knew that once training ended, so would their time together. With the curse and his impending battle with Klavon, Darius sighed and accepted his solitude. He wished Prydon were there. The dragon’s company was comforting, and he dearly missed his friend.

  He glanced over at the shadow. It was not a friend. It was simply a source of instruction. Strangely, more often than not, the instruction continued even as Darius slept. Darius wasn’t sure if he liked it or was bothered by it. However, Darius was pleased that he was now able to predict most of its moves and spells, and it was quite possible that the dreams contributed to that success. It was a shame he would not have those colors and patterns to help him in his battle with Klavon, but he no longer needed the shadow or its instruction.

  He thought again of Prydon. Perhaps his absence was a blessing, allowing Darius the opportunity to stand on his own and grow into a wizard independently of the dragon. There was no arrogance in this; Darius came to realize that Prydon’s strength was a valuable asset to his cause, but it would be of no use to him if he were weak on his own. This was something Prydon had tried many times to instill in him, and now he understood. And with their combined strength, they would make an impressive and, if necessary, dangerous pair.

  Darius stared up at the dragon form in the stars, more settled than he had been since the Great Book was stolen. He had concentrated on his studies, pouring heart, body, and soul into everything he learned, and he accomplished much. Even Barsovy was impressed and told him he was the fastest learner he’d trained since his father.

  Darius smiled at the thought. He never knew Thyre, but the more he learned, the more he felt a connection to this man—a man he called Father. How Darius would have given anything to witness him standing regally in his wizardly robes, tending to the village with Miora at his side. He smiled again, but then he frowned. For the first time, Darius caught a glimpse of the depth of emptiness his mother must have endured all those years without him, and his heart ached for her pain.

  That night, he fell asleep dreaming of his father and the life he never knew…the shadow allowed him that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Segrath