After a solitary breakfast Darius quickly readied himself and made the familiar trek to his more than familiar alcove. He stepped into the clearing, but Barsovy was nowhere to be seen. Darius began pacing the field, kicking at the dust beneath his feet. In all the time he had spent in this valley, within moments of stepping into the training area, Barsovy would appear. He was never late.
A bird flew overhead, casting a long shadow on the ground, and Darius looked up. The sun was peeking over the mountain on the far side of the lush valley. He walked over and sat underneath the tree where he normally ate lunch. He could not see Loklan and wondered if his Barsovy was present. If he were, Loklan would fast be in his alcove focused on his training. Darius thought of wandering over but quickly decided against it. Although he and Loklan had long since become great friends, he was sure an invasion of this sort would not be taken well by Barsovy.
The small animal poked its head out from under the crevice, sniffed, and returned to its sanctuary. Darius watched absently, his brows furrowed. His thoughts were elsewhere. By now, Barsovy was very late. A burst of concern churned in Darius’s stomach, and he began to wish he hadn’t eaten so much at breakfast.
A flush of wind blew dust in Darius’s face, and an enormous thud shook the ground.
“Prydon!” Darius ran to his friend and threw his arms around the massive neck.
“Darius. I have missed you as well,” said Prydon as he gently placed a clawed hand around Darius’s back.
Darius loosened his grip. A knot tied his throat, and he fought back the tears that were threatening to engulf his eyes. “I’m glad you’re back,” he squeaked.
Prydon smiled. “I hear you have been doing well with your studies. I guess you have no further need of that pillow.”
Darius laughed. “Not a bit.”
In an instant, Barsovy appeared and stood in silence as Prydon pulled from beneath his wings a sword and staff.
Prydon’s chest bulged and pride veiled his face as he ceremoniously held them out to Darius. “These, my friend, are yours. Careful, though. There is no spell of protection on these weapons.”
Darius glanced from Prydon to Barsovy.
Barsovy’s eyes nodded respectfully, and he bowed his head. “You are done here.”
Darius reached slowly forward and gently took the weapons. As his hands touched their surface, a pulse of power surged out from him as if he were a small pebble dropped in a shallow pool. For a moment, a white light engulfed him, clouding his view from anything or anyone around him. A warm energy danced on the surface of his skin, and he felt at peace. As it faded, his surroundings returned to view.
“You are now bound as one,” said Barsovy.
Darius looked at his newly acquired weapons. The exquisite stones embedded in the handle of the sword and perched atop the end of the staff came to life, and an opaque mist, void of any one color, swirled about, a murky shadow filling the stones.
“When a wizard takes a sword and staff,” said Barsovy, “it is forever. They will never fail you, unless you fail yourself.”
Darius’s throat tightened and he swallowed hard as those words echoed in his ears—unless you fail yourself. With sword in one hand and staff in the other, Darius’s eyes fixed firmly on what would now be a major part of his life.
“The bond will be permanent once you return from the Valley of Wizards,” Barsovy continued. “But first, you must face your past, putting all questions, doubts, and concerns to rest once and for all. Else, your journey in the valley will not be as it should.”
Darius frowned questioningly at Prydon.
Prydon nodded. “As I have told you before, the stones in your sword and staff will reflect your character. If you do not resolve your past, those stones—”
“I know,” Darius confirmed. “But what of this mark? Can’t that affect me as well?”
“Of that I am sure, but that cannot be helped,” replied Barsovy. “Prydon?”
Prydon lowered his sleek body to the ground. “It is time, young one, to return to your past.”
Darius climbed on Prydon’s back. “Tell Loklan that—”
“Loklan will know,” said Barsovy, and he waved as they took to the air.
Darius could see Loklan, busy in battle with another Barosovy in his alcove, stop and look up. Darius waved at his friend. Loklan hesitated and waved back, only to have his Barsovy knock him to his feet.
Darius laughed and waved again before the clouds obscured any other view of the valley. Soon he began to think of Brandor and wondered how he would resolve a past with a town that was vanishing. But he was excited to hug his mother once again. He could imagine the smile on her face when she discovered he was well…and a trained wizard!
The wind became cold as they left the shelter of the training grounds. Now, they were vulnerable, and Darius thought of Klavon. Would he sense Darius’s accomplishments? Would Klavon be waiting for him in Brandor? Would he be forced to face Klavon before he could enter the Valley of Wizards? Before he had been blessed…or cursed? Darius shook the uneasy thoughts from his mind. There was no time to be insecure. He would receive a blessing because he needed to, and that was final.
Hours later, Prydon landed amidst the ruins of his father’s village.
“Here?” asked Darius, a confused crease joining his brows. “But I thought—”
“Brandor is your present and not what you need to confront just now. This, however, is the past you need to resolve,” answered Prydon.
Darius lowered himself off of Prydon’s back and began to walk around. The putrid gloom of destruction still hung thick in the air even after all these years, and in a wave of unexpected turmoil, lucid visions of the fighting that destroyed this village came to life right before his eyes.
“Prydon?” he asked, but Darius’s voice failed. His knees weakened, and he fell to the ground as ancient sounds became like new, and he looked up to watch two wizards deeply entrenched in battle.
Spells shot from one wizard to the other and screams in the distance echoed in Darius’s ears. In between spells and, as the wizards came closer to each other, swords were raised and the sound of metal clashed like thunder. Darius didn’t know how, but he was witnessing the battle between his father and Klavon. Prydon roared off to the side, heavy in combat with another much darker dragon. Prydon? Prydon was here? Then? With his father?
Klavon chanted strange words, and small creatures unfamiliar to Darius charged after a woman and her son. The creatures clawed at the boy as the mother screamed and yanked him into her arms. Darius’s father, Thyre, immediately turned and cast a spell that pulverized the minions, and the lady with her son scrambled out of sight into a cluster of trees. Klavon, taking full advantage of the distraction, struck Thyre with his sword just as Thyre turned around, and a deep gash cut through his robes. Thyre, crimson dripping from his arm, was not deterred, and he raised his sword and fought back.
Townspeople ran everywhere as Klavon, at every chance, cast spells to disperse more minions throughout the village. Thyre would quickly counterattack, turning the minions into wisps of dust. It was at that time that Klavon would strike hardest at Thyre, but he would maintain himself and their fight continued.
Prydon’s battle with the darker dragon proved equally intense. Although spells were not their advantage, the sheer massiveness of their strikes and the fire of their breath would easily bring a human to a quick end. But against each other, their powers were evenly matched and equally destructive. Although the dark dragon sustained comparable wounds, blood covered Prydon’s arms, neck, and legs as deep gashes cried out with red tongues.
Darius’s stomach soured as one unfortunate human, in her panic, ventured near the dark dragon. Prydon dove toward the woman, but the dark dragon was closer and devoured her with one, quick snap. Prydon cried and turned toward the dark dragon, shrieking in anger.
Thyre’s attention was drawn by the death of one of his people, and Klavon sent out another barrage of minions. Thyre counterattacked, a
nd as before, while he defended his people, Klavon struck hardest. He cast spell after vicious spell, and Prydon jumped to Thyre’s defense only to be met with a slice across his back by the darker dragon.
With Prydon’s help, Thyre eradicated the minions and turned his attention back on Klavon, and their battle ensued, as did Prydon’s and the darker dragon. To Darius, it seemed to go on forever, swords, staffs, minions, claws, teeth, fire. But then the entire scene stopped, frozen like an audience anticipating the climactic appearance of the main character. Standing in a doorway up on a small hill stood a woman. Darius immediately recognized Miora, although her face showed fewer years than he ever remembered. She was holding a bundle of cloth and sobbing as she collapsed to her knees.
“No!” Thyre screamed.
The battle began to progress once again, but now it played in slow motion, every act painfully drawn out. Thyre yelled at Prydon, but the words were muffled beyond Darius’s understanding. The dark dragon headed toward his mother, and she ran. Prydon followed, and soon both were out of sight.
Klavon laughed and sent forth such a surge of minions that the townspeople were beginning to fall all around. Thyre yelled again, but to whom Darius knew not, and turned back to Klavon. His attack on Klavon was like nothing Darius could have imagined. Screaming in anger, he cast spells, attacked with sword, and almost succeeded in taking Klavon’s life until the cries of his people forced him to turn his attention once again on the minions. Thyre turned from Klavon, sending minions flying to oblivion, but without Prydon’s help there were too many. Klavon laughed again and called more minions, and as Thyre attempted to save his people, Klavon raised his sword.
With a choked scream of anguish, Thyre froze. A dark red stain seeped through the fabric of his robes, and Thyre looked down at the tip of Klavon’s sword, protruding from his stomach. Darius watched as his father raised his hands and clutched the blade of his enemy’s sword. Gasping for his last breaths, tears filled Thyre’s eyes. He dropped to his knees, and Klavon slowly walked around to face him. Klavon began to laugh, deep and wicked. Thyre looked into Klavon’s eyes, a look of sadness as if he were looking at a lost friend. Blood began to trickle from his mouth, and with a final breath, Thyre fell to the ground.
Darius screamed, “No!” Clawing at the ground, he ran to his dying father, but when he got there, a dark cloud filled his vision. He awoke to the sounds of his own sobbing. His body was damp with sweat and his shoulders shook violently. Prydon stood over him, his head lowered in pain.
“You!” Darius yelled. “You abandoned him! You let him die!”
Prydon did not move. Darius found his feet and lunged at Prydon, pounding the dragon’s massive body with his fists as hard as he could. Prydon did nothing, and Darius pummeled his hands against the scaled chest until he could pound no more. He fell back, sobbing once again.
When he found his voice, his sentence was broken between involuntary gasps of air. “How…could…you?” The gasps continued as he threw his hands over his face and allowed the pain to overtake him.
For quite some time, nothing was said. Prydon offered no response; Prydon, the one Darius had come to trust, the one he thought of as his friend, had allowed his father to die. It was more than he could stand, and he fell to the ground in a heap where his father had died.
Darius wasn’t sure, but he must have cried himself to sleep. All he knew was that his face was sticky with dampened dust, and his nose was runny. He sat up and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
Prydon was still there, standing in the same spot.
“I don’t understand?” said Darius. He was hurt and angry, but his words were quiet, almost venomous. “How could you do that? I thought he was your friend?”
“He was more than my friend, Darius. He, at one time, saved my son’s life. I would easily have given my life for him.”
“Your son? So he saved your son, but you wouldn’t save him?” Darius snapped.
“It was not his wish that I help him.”
“What do you mean?” Anger began to boil under his skin, and Darius clenched his fists tightly shut.
“As Fraenir went after your mother—”
“Fraenir?” Darius interrupted.
“Fraenir was the creature I was fighting. As Fraenir went after your mother and you—”
“And me?” Darius interrupted again.
Prydon paused. “That bundle of cloth she was holding was you. Darius, your mother was in labor when Klavon attacked the village. Your father and I went to defend it, but he told me that under no circumstance was Klavon or Fraenir to get to her…or you.”
Prydon sat down and shook his head, and Darius stared at him, waiting to understand the battle amidst whose ruins he now sat, the battle he witnessed so clearly.
“You saw the battle. We were doing our best, but when your mother appeared, Klavon sent his beast to seize her. I followed and was able to prevent Fraenir from reaching your mother. In fact, Fraenir was badly wounded and knew that it was only a matter of time before I would take his life.” Prydon’s jaws flexed, and he shook his head in anger. “He retreated and began to fly toward Klavon’s tower. I followed for a short distance, but when he maintained his path, I returned to your father, knowing he would need my help.”
“But you didn’t help him.” Darius lowered his head, the image of his father clenching the sword’s blade still etched in his mind.
“I barely topped the houses at the edge of the village when your father demanded I stay on Fraenir. He demanded I save his child as he had saved mine. I tried to argue, but he would have none of it. And my discussion was only serving to distract him further from his fight with Klavon.”
“Was that what he was yelling? For you to go?”
Prydon nodded. “I made him a promise. So I followed Fraenir. I was not in the best shape myself, and by the time I caught up with him, Fraenir had safely landed at Klavon’s tower. A barrage of minions came to Fraenir’s aid so I dared not enter. Knowing Fraenir was in no shape to leave, I returned here, to your father. But…” Prydon shook his head as if to toss some disgusting taste from his mouth.
“My father was already dead,” finished Darius.
“Yes.” Prydon swallowed hard. “And Klavon had called so many minions, the villagers, at least the ones who were still alive, abandoned the town. Klavon and his minions had already burned most of the buildings, I assume looking for your mother.”
“Why didn’t you kill him then?” asked Darius.
“I could have tried, but that would have been of no help to either you or your mother.”
“No help?” snapped Darius. “We wouldn’t be dealing with Klavon now!”
“Klavon called forth so many minions that I could not have hoped to defeat them. My wounds were severe. And if I died, you and your mother would have been left completely vulnerable.”
“Ok, so if you didn’t kill Klavon, what did you do?”
Darius’s words were cruel, but Prydon responded quietly, as if he deserved the malice.
“I looked for you and your mother. I searched for days, but you were nowhere to be found. A terrible blizzard came in, and I was more frantic than ever. I was growing weaker, and I knew I would not be able to search much longer.” Prydon closed his eyes. “My fear was that it had all been for naught. I was afraid I had failed your father.”
Darius stared at the dragon. Prydon’s eyes were still closed, and Darius thought of the deep gashes he had seen in his vision. For the first time, Darius noticed the scars beneath and between the scales that so beautifully armored Prydon’s body. Why had he never noticed them before?
With a deep breath, Prydon’s eyes opened. “The next day, I thought of Brandor. When I got there, I found Miora had sought refuge in a small inn. She was safe, as were you. I remained outside the village and watched.”
Darius waited for Prydon to continue, but Prydon said nothing.
“You watched,” restated Darius, but his words did nothing to aid Prydon in co
ntinuing his story. “Alright, so what did you do then?”
“Nothing. I knew the barrier would keep you safe as long as you stayed there, so I watched.”
The continual breaks in Prydon’s story annoyed Darius, and he sighed out loud. “For how long?”
“Until I met you in the marsh.”
The sigh Darius released became a quiet gasp. He was speechless and sat dumbfounded for several moments. Then he asked quietly, “For fourteen years?”
“I made a promise.” Prydon lowered his head. “A promise that cost your father his life.”
Chapter Twenty
The Pathetic Village
Darius and the Dragon's Stone Page 26
