One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  A flash of fear crossed Csilla’s face. “You will know you are near the Valley. It will chill you through. Keep your distance. Stick to the roads—always.” She held a serious expression as Magnus acknowledged her warning.

  “Aye, I will,” Magnus said. Csilla had a look of doubt upon her face. “I will stick to the roads of the Outer Rim as you say, Csilla.”

  “Good. You will do fine. Be off now, son of Bonstaph.” Csilla smacked Breona on the rump, giving both her and Magnus a start. “Farewell, Magnus.”

  “Farewell, Csilla.”

  Magnus turned toward the east. “Let’s go now Breona, to Froughton Forest and on to Guame.” Breona charged forward along the narrow quarry road and Magnus sensed she was relieved to be moving again. They moved quickly across the boundaries of the quarry and past the archers positioned every quarter mile. From here, they ventured out through barley fields split by a dirt road that undulated its way eastward. Breona galloped at a pace she could keep up for the hours of travel ahead and soon, several miles separated them from Lucas, the healers and Csilla.

  With events of the first half of the night behind them, Magnus looked to the future and what he had set forth to achieve. From here on he and Breona were alone, but for the occasional Uydfer scout he spotted in the field who would charge his sword and wave as they passed.

  THE ROMGHOLD

  The journey across Allumbreve was not easy. Anyone that wishes to ride a dragon is wasting wishes, Catanya thought to herself. Every part of her body ached from holding on for dear life. People were surely not meant for flying.

  Far beyond her homelands, Catanya flew over the vast expanse of Froughton Forest. The continual rising and falling and unexpected changes of direction made her nauseous. Austagia told her she would learn to “master the effects of flying” over time. This was one of the only pieces of advice he had given her.

  Catanya asked Austagia many questions, such as why she was the “one concession” he spoke of—drafted into priesthood in the off year. Why was she chosen over all the would-be-warriors in the realm? She also had questions she dared not ask—What will Austagia do if I refuse to train? What if I flee in the middle of the night and return home to Magnus?

  Austagia refused to answer any of her questions. “You have started your induction into the Priesthood,” he said. “You should seek neither comfort nor conversation.”

  Austagia explained to Catanya she had entered what was known as a period of ‘cleansing’. He also made it perfectly clear that from this moment on he was no longer to be considered her uncle. Catanya thought even less of her uncle after this. First he takes me from my family and Magnus, now he denies any responsibility for me?

  Where the moon shone bright and they emerged from the clouds, Catanya was afforded the opportunity to study the creature that carried them through the night sky. She was huge. Catanya’s legs were so firmly strapped into the saddle she could not move and they were splayed so far apart she was convinced she would split in two, such was the breadth of the dragon’s long neck. Behind her, the dragon’s wings seemed to span forever and beat every once in a while, thrusting them forward at an alarming pace.

  The dragon’s name was Rubea. A fitting name, Catanya thought, looking at her dark red scales sparkling even in the night sky. Her discomfort aside, Catanya thought Rubea was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Her thoughts, it seemed, were being scrutinised by the dragon once again, only this time less aggressively. Rubea thanked Catanya for her compliments and shared her own thoughts with Catanya.

  The two of them melded their minds together. The dragon seemed most curious about the strange new girl she carried over the lands. Soon enough Austagia interjected, suggesting Rubea leave Catanya to her cleansing. And so Rubea withdrew her mind from Catanya’s.

  “Fine then,” Catanya had responded, not caring if Austagia sensed bitterness in her manner. It was not her who had chosen this path. Catanya was certain every time they met from this day forth she would see him as nothing more than the man who took her away from Magnus.

  It was dark and silent when they reached the eastern border of Froughton Forest. The giant trees gave way to steep mountains. Rubea began to climb alongside the sharp, snow capped crags of the Romgnian Mountain range. As they climbed, the sweep of Rubea’s wings sent tufts of cloud fluting out from fissures in the mountain. Catanya felt the bite of the cool mountain air as Rubea ascended toward Romgnia’s highest peak.

  They reached the summit and Catanya quickly forgot about her discomfort. She was awestruck by the sight before her. Upon the highest peak—as though it had grown out of the mountain itself—was a tall, grey-stoned castle. Its narrow construction towered up from the mountain peaks. Its shape was dominated by dozens of steeples that spiralled upward, each ending with sharp spires. An endless array of stone buttresses connected the construction, giving it an eerie, skeletal appearance. Not a single one of the hundreds of narrow lancets held a light. In fact, there was no sign of life about the whole structure or the surrounding mountain region. It looked like the most ominous, uninviting place in all of Allumbreve.

  Rubea twisted out of her ascent and began to glide down toward the bleak-looking castle. She let out a roar that echoed off the mountain face. Catanya winced, letting go of the saddle horn to cover her ears as the sound tore through her. Once it had dispersed, the air between them and the foreboding castle began to shimmer, as though looking through a smooth sheet of water. A translucent wall revealed itself as a barrier extending as a dome over the castle. Rubea descended toward it and Catanya shuddered as they passed through the wall.

  On the other side of the barrier, Catanya saw a different world. The castle was gone.

  “Was it an illusion?” Catanya felt she was entitled to ask this one question.

  “A deterrent to outsiders,” Austagia answered. “What you see now is real.”

  On the other side of the deception, Catanya was able to see the real world of the dragons and the Irucantî for the first time—and there was no foreboding castle.

  Surrounded by the snow-capped peaks of the Romgnian Mountains on all but the west side was a flat plain half a mile wide and at least as deep. Upon the plain were modest stone buildings that were neatly constructed and laid out along organised alleyways. Everything was perfectly symmetrical. To the northern border of the community was a temple that, despite its small base, was tall and proud. Catanya was struck by its perfect detail—with two small steeples toward the front of the building and two much larger ones toward the rear. The whole temple was constructed of a burnished black stone the likes of which Catanya had never seen before.

  “The Temple of Fire,” Austagia said, seemingly knowing it was drawing Catanya’s attention.

  Their approach was to the western part of the Romghold where a large, almost circular lawn area spanned from one side of the Romghold to the other. To its west, the perfectly manicured lawn dropped away down the mountainside. The clearing was gently lit by the soft, green glow of hundreds of small lanterns positioned around the field’s perimeter. Rubea extended her large rear legs and touched down on the clearing with a dull thud. She sidestepped for a moment, folded in her large wings and drew in a deep breath that she forced out of her nostrils, blowing two matching rings of smoke into the night air.

  Austagia helped Catanya unbuckle the straps holding her legs in place before leaping out of the saddle, falling ten feet to the ground and landing without a sound. Catanya was surprised at his agility for his age, considering he could not have been much less than fifty. She dropped herself from the saddle and as she touched the ground she fell to her knees, weakened and sore from the journey. Austagia helped her to her feet and she thanked him, a little embarrassed after his own impressive dismount. Looking to the ground, Catanya cursed under her breath. She was unsure what would come of her time here in the Romghold but swore she would not show her uncle signs of weakness again.

  Catanya took a deep breath, pulled her shoul
ders back and looked at Austagia. He was standing beside another man who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Like Austagia, he was dressed in a hooded black robe that was a complicated folding arrangement of layers that looked comfortable enough, but uninspiring to Catanya. The only other clothing of note was the black boots they both wore, made of a combination of canvas and leather stitched lengthwise and diagonally with matching laces that crisscrossed over the front.

  Austagia bowed to his companion, who did the same in turn, then stood as still as a statue. Even though his face was hidden beneath his hood, Catanya felt his eyes staring at her. She stared right back at him, into the dark space beneath his hood, refusing to be intimidated. She squinted slightly, intensifying her gaze. After a long minute, the man turned slowly toward Austagia and gave an almost imperceptible nod. Austagia pulled his hood up over his face then turned and walked away toward the temple.

  Catanya maintained her gaze at the priest. She decided she would not back down unless he instructed her to. The priest took several steps toward her. At well over six feet tall he towered over Catanya. He drew back his hood revealing his face. Like her uncle, his head was close shaved and tattooed over the left side with the glyphic markings of Fireisgh—the ancient script of the Fire Realm. Catanya winced, wondering if she too was expected to have this done. His face was long and his jaw chiselled down to a pointed chin that matched his narrow, fine nose. The priest took a step closer.

  “You have entered the realm of the Irucantî. Do you understand why?”

  His voice was assertive yet he spoke in a calm manner. She was unsure how to reply. Of course I know why, she thought, but decided to heed Austagia’s advice and remain silent.

  “Very good,” the priest said, as if he had gained the answer he was looking for.

  Is he reading my mind? Catanya considered. She glanced briefly at Rubea who was lying restfully on the ground beside her. Rubea looked right at her. Catanya gazed into the fire-red depths of Rubea’s eyes and as she did they changed colour—flickering between various colours and finally settling on a brown colour—much like her own eyes. She turned back to the priest who was still looking at her.

  “My name is Joffren. You will call me Semsdi—Fireisgh for teacher… Come.” He motioned for Catanya to follow him. She turned to look at Rubea once again who was fast asleep on her patch of soft grass in the middle of the field.

  “Goodnight Rubea,” she dared to whisper in her mind. No response came.

  “The Romghold is our sacred ground,” Joffren explained as he walked with Catanya beside him. “The temple is a place of reflection. Everything that surrounds it will be your training ground.” Joffren stopped walking and turned to face Catanya once again. “Do you have any questions?” Catanya hesitated, unsure whether to talk. “You are free to speak. This place is new to you and so there must be much you wish to know of it and our ways.”

  “Yes, there is,” Catanya said. “Do all the priests live here?”

  “Many of our order are here in the Romgnian Mountains. Some close, some farther afield. Others still are elsewhere in Allumbreve serving in other ways.”

  Catanya decided Joffren was not a bad person and dared to speak a little more candidly with him. “Are you able to read my mind?”

  Joffren was silent for a moment as if thinking about his answer. “To an extent. I find however, your body language speaks louder than your thoughts. Are you able to read mine?”

  Catanya looked him in the eyes, trying to see if he was mocking her. “No,” she answered, “I do no better at reading your body language.” She was sure then that Joffren smiled ever so slightly.

  They reached the edge of the green field. Joffren turned and looked over the field, waved an arm and said, “Fara namon.” The hundreds of small lanterns surrounding the field dimmed gradually until they were extinguished, leaving Rubea to sleep in darkness. Joffren and Catanya walked off the field and onto a stone common with the temple to their left and a neat arrangement of small stone buildings to their right.

  Catanya considered other questions. “Do the dragons live here?”

  “They move throughout the Romgnian Mountains and far beyond, as we do. You will meet them as your training progresses and through this, you will learn much of their ways and wisdom.”

  They arrived at one of the small buildings. It had a small lantern hanging from a hook beside a wooden door. Joffren lifted the lamp free of the hook and handed it to Catanya. He then opened the door for her.

  “You will stay here during your training. Sleep well, for you will need your strength tomorrow.” Catanya had many more questions she wanted to ask but fearing the time to ask them might be short, she asked the most pressing one. The one neither her father nor her uncle had bothered to explain to her since being told she was to join the priesthood.

  “What is my purpose here?”

  Joffren looked at Catanya and considered her for a moment. “Beyond your training and vocation? I see righteousness.” With that, he turned and walked away toward the large temple.

  Righteousness? Catanya twitched her nose. My purpose is righteousness? She pondered the thought as she entered the small building, holding the small lamp ahead of her. The building was a small, single room that was completely empty aside from a small wooden table and chair at the centre of the room and a single small window beside the door. Catanya looked around the room, searching for something she must be missing. There was no bed, no bath and no eating facilities. She looked outside to where she last saw Joffren but he was gone. She scratched the back of her head, wondering how exactly she was meant to “sleep well”.

  “Righteousness,” Catanya said out loud. Sitting on the chair at the small table, she felt incredibly tired. Her whole body ached from the journey. She crossed her forearms and rested them on the table, laying her head upon them. Her mind drifted through thoughts of home and Magnus and she affirmed to herself that they would be together again soon. She wondered what Magnus was doing at that very moment. Holding the thought, she fell asleep.

  FROUGHTON FOREST

  Magnus peered along the narrow path that wound its way into Froughton Forest. He could only see a short way before the path was concealed by the darkness of the woods. After his desperate journey to get here, he froze with the realisation of what it really meant to be entering this forest. Both Ganister and Csilla warned him to be careful. “On no account enter the Valley,” Ganister had said.

  The Valley of Shadows, Magnus contemplated.

  As a child, Magnus often wondered if the stories of Froughton Forest were true—those of unknown creatures and demons lurking within its dark depths. His father, who was not one for such speculation, had told him to never assume anything one hears without evidence, but he made an exception to this rule with Froughton Forest. “Assume the worst, hope for the best,” he would say.

  Breona was becoming skittish and shifted from side to side. He felt her fear wash over him, exacerbating his own. Looking to the right of the path into the forest, Magnus’s eyes were suddenly drawn to a narrow break in the trees. With a gasp, he stared into a pair of pearlescent white eyes, shining against the darkness surrounding them. They were staring directly at him. A chill formed at the nape of his neck and tracked its way slowly down his spine. He froze on the spot. A long minute passed then the eyes turned and vanished into the darkness.

  Magnus released his pent-up breath. Looking to the sky above, he saw the red glow of sunrise emerging above the tallest trees. “We must move on Breona. We can travel safely within the forest, but it will test our bravery.” He leant forward, stroking Breona’s white mane and waited for her response. Breona’s feelings merged with his own.

  “This will lead us to where we need to go? To find help for Alavia?”

  “Aye, it will.” Magnus waited for Breona to think it over. There was no point forcing her. She would never go against her will.

  After a moment’s reflection, Breona repeated, “This is the way we need to go?” />
  “It is the only way.”

  “So be it. I will enter that dark place with you, Magnus.”

  “So be it.” Magnus held his breath again as they rode into the forest. “We stick to this path, no matter what.” He sensed Breona’s determination and mustered his own to match.

  Magnus rode slowly into the darkness of Froughton Forest. Half a mile deep, the road narrowed and turned gradually northward until it ran parallel with the forest’s outer perimeter.

  “This is the Outer Rim,” Magnus shared thoughts with Breona, daring not to whisper. “So long as we keep to the path or to the left of it, we will avoid the Valley of Shadows.” Going by Ganister’s instructions, Magnus gathered the path would eventually turn in a northeasterly direction and continue on before exiting at the northern most point, three days travel away. Here, he would find the Northern Road that would take him to Guame.

  The air in the forest felt close and carried the damp, sweet scent of the ancient trees. The rising sun occasionally pierced the canopy above sending down yellow spears of light that hinted at the path ahead.

  An hour’s travel into the forest realm, Magnus heard the scream of a wyvern coming from the skies to the west. He spun Breona about and looked back, but the convoluted path blocked his view. He waited, motionless, for any sign of movement. Have they tracked us this far? He did not hear the wyvern again, nor was there any movement through the forest. Satisfied he was not being followed, he turned Breona around and continued along the path faster than before.

  As the day progressed the sun rose higher in the sky yet the forest became darker and the air became thicker. Magnus felt confident they were heading the right way, but he was ever aware of the darkness to his right. Somewhere through there, Magnus considered, is the Valley of Shadows. Magnus’s attention was drawn to the trees in this direction. As midday came, lethargy encouraged his imagination to wander and he began to see movement in the darkness.