“No, Sire,” Kazen answered nervously. “You may call me by any name that pleases you. But I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Of course not.” The dragon snorted. “Such is the price of a mortal soul. But fear not! We are brothers, you and I. I have been by your side since your first coming, and shall continue to do so until your last.”
Kazen stared blankly back at the ancient dragon.
Valduron laughed. “I see we have much to talk about. Come then, everyone! Let us adjourn to the hall for the evening. You may enjoy a hot meal while Edric and I get to know each other once again.”
The party eagerly followed after Valduron as he lumbered his way through the tall doors of the great hall, which obediently opened before him. As the others sat down around the grand table, Kazen snatched up an apple and quickly hurried to keep up with the old dragon’s long stride. With a creak of his ancient bones, Valduron stretched out on the floor in front of the hearth and motioned for Kazen to sit with him.
His green eyes mirroring the flourishing orange flames, Valduron sighed and smiled as warmly as one could expect a dragon to smile. “I have missed you, my friend. It seems a dragon’s eternity since we last sat together like this. Our time together in this age may be short, I fear, and for that I am saddened. Even here, in this magic city, the sun still rises and sets with little concern of our woes. But enough of that. You have come here with many questions. For you to have traveled so far in such dire times, your need for council must truly be great. Where then shall I start?”
“Perhaps you could start with how it is we are acquainted,” Kazen bumbled out, already forgetting his place before the great dragon.
Valduron boomed out a righteous chuckle. “Very well, then! For that, however, I shall have to start at the very beginning. Dragons are immortal. We cannot die to old age, illness, or famine. The only way for an immortal being to die is by a violent act. Though it would never penetrate my tough scales, a sword to the heart would kill me just as surely as it would you. I have existed since the beginning, and if fate allows it I shall be here at the end. When I do die, that will be the end of me. My knowledge, my experiences, all that I am will be gone forever. I shall fade away like dust in the wind.
“Men and wizards, though not immortal, have been blessed with everlasting souls. When your body dies, your essence, all that makes you who you are, will go on. Your soul is free to be reborn again and again. This is a joyous gift, Edric. Each new life holds the promise of infinite possibilities and a chance at enlightenment.
“Though a young man sits before me, I look in your eyes and see a soul that is as ancient as I am. I have known you for a thousand ages, and if the fates will allow it I will know you for a thousand more. You are unique among your kind, Edric. You have the spirit of a warrior within you, a champion. It is you who is returned to this world when it is in desperate need. When the people of these lands fall into shadow or despair, it is you who are called upon to set the balance. This is your ninth coming, and I imagine it will not by your last.”
Kazen slid down on his soft pillow and propped his feet on Valduron’s coiled tail. He had very quickly lost all fear of being so close to such vicious teeth and had even forgotten that he was conversing with a dragon at all. He had listened intently to what Valduron had to say and he trusted every word of it to be true. Like the first time he held his sword in his hand, being with the old dragon felt comfortable and right.
“Am I destined then to be locked in battle for all eternity? To carry such a burden is terrible enough, but to know there is no escape from it, not even a thousand lifetimes from now, is more than I think I can bear. Is there no rest for my soul?”
“I don’t know what the future holds for you, Edric, but I do not believe the fates are that unkind. Peace may someday come to this world, but in the meantime the balance must be kept. Especially now, on this return, for you may find your face your most difficult challenge ever.”
“I don’t understand.”
Valduron lay his chin down upon his foot. “Your last return was an arduous one. The world was already in a state of turmoil. Kings and men battled frivolously between themselves, even while the shadows of evil closed in around them. You did your best to unite the kingdoms, and gain the advantage, but the battle raged for many years, and hope of ever being able to vanquish Gregore’s evil had begun to fade.
“A last, a massive attack was launched to rid the world of the dark wizard once and for all. Many thousands of good men and wizards were lost. The evil tide was pushed back, but it was not enough. Gregore had to be destroyed to save the land from his retribution. But the years had left you old and weak. You knew you did not have the strength to kill him. So, instead, you banished him to the shadows, along with all his minions. It was there you hoped he would stay, for all eternity.
“But Gregore was always a clever wizard. He found a way to bargain with the demons that dwell in the shadows. Trading his mortal soul for his freedom, he was able to escape the dark shadows. Now, he is an abomination, an immortal wizard without a soul. His newfound immortality has added to his madness and given him the strength of thirty wizards. He has erected an unnatural fortress of stone and shadow on the remote coast of Rassadoth. There he festers, unafraid and unchallenged, gathering his army of beasts and shadows, all the while gaining strength from the growing darkness. He holds open the door to the shadows with his left hand and all the foul demons who bathe in its gloom, and with his right hand he blinds the world to his coming.”
Kazen stared out the window into the starry night. “It sounds as though he is already unstoppable.”
“That could very well be. That is why it is imperative that you do not delay. You must take your army and march against Gregore before he grows any more powerful.”
Kazen’s heart skipped and his jaw nearly dropped. “We don’t . . . We do not have an army.”
“What!” Valduron boomed. “Surely you have raised forces to face Gregore.”
Kazen stood slowly as the room was struck silent by the dragon king’s sudden anger. “It was our hope, that in coming here, you would aid us in the gathering of forces.”
“Aid you!” Valduron bellowed, now standing nearly to his full height. “You come to me only now, on the eve of your destruction, and ask for aid? Gregore is at your door, Edric! Why have you not prepared for his coming?”
“The delay was my doing, Lord Valduron,” Ilagon said, rising from his seat without show of fear before the angry dragon. “I have acted as Kazen’s guardian these years of his life. I allowed myself to be fooled into believing that Gregore had perished after the attack on Graffis. It is my fault we are unprepared for his coming. We have traveled here seeking your counsel and any aid you might see fit to offer.”
“There is no amount of counsel that can save you now,” Valduron growled. “You mock the fates with your ignorance! Do you think they would send the Flame Weaver without cause?”
“Forgive me, Lord Valduron.” Ilagon bowed his head respectfully. “I knew little of the prophecies when I came into care of Kazen.”
“Do not ask for my forgiveness. It is the forgiveness of your own people you must ask, for you have single-handedly forged their doom. Guardian of the Flame Weaver, indeed! I would first call you the right hand of Gregore, himself!”
“Enough!” Kazen pleaded, unable to bear the attack on Ilagon’s quality. “I could not have asked for a better teacher and mentor than Ilagon. He has taught me well, and he has done the best he could.”
“What is that upon your hand!” Valduron gasped. “Who has scarred you with that mark of disgrace?”
Kazen curled his marked hand into a ball and tucked it self-consciously under his arm.
“I did,” Ilagon admitted, his face now stern and cool. “I used the power of dark magic to conceal Kazen from the eyes of shadow.”
“Concealed him? You should have flaunted him in the face of shadow! Whole kingdoms would have bowed down before the Flam
e Weaver had they known he lived. You might have stopped Gregore’s siege before it began.” He finally shook his great head. “There is no aid I can offer you. A hundred dragons could not save you now. It is too late. Go back to your homes.” Slowly, he turned his back to his guests and gazed sullenly into the fluttering fire.
“That’s it?” Kazen snapped in tearful frustration. “We have come all this way for your help and you turn your back on us? I think, perhaps, we are not as close of friends as you have led me to believe.”
Valduron turned his gaze to Kazen, his eyes once again soft and regal. “Forgive me.” He sighed. “I should not be so quick to judge. I know your guardian has done all he was able, and that his love for you is great. However, all that I’ve said is true. It would take an unmatched army to march against Gregore. It is far too late to raise any such force. You and your friends may take sanctuary here for as long as you like. The magic of this city will not hold back the shadow forever, but light will shine here longer than in most places.”
“You want us to hide here like dogs?” Shanks barked angrily.
“What you do is your own business, Master Zaris.” Valduron shrugged. “All I can do for you now is offer you my hospitality.” With a courteous bow of his head, the silver dragon excused himself from the hall, flying away into the night on graceful wings.
“Can you believe the nerve of that . . . that dragon?” Shanks ranted.
“He is right,” Ilagon said.
Shanks jumped up from his chair. “How can you say that?”
“Because it is true. If Gregor has truly gathered as much strength as Valduron claims, we would need the forces of every kingdom west of the Pale Mountains to defeat him.”
“Then we will gather them,” Shanks insisted.
“Did you not listen to what Valduron said? The shadowgate has been opened. It is only a matter of weeks, perhaps days, until Gregore releases his horde upon these lands. We are too late.”
“Bah!” Shanks hollered. “Would you have us roll over and die so easily?”
“No, I would not,” Ilagon contended through clenched teeth, “but I would also not have us waste what little time we have left on a fool’s errand. We should move as many people as we can to the west. There, we can make a stand.”
“Await the slaughter is more likely!” Shanks snapped.
“The real slaughter would be marching an ill-prepared army into the shadowlands!”
“Better for them to die with weapons in their hands and their faces to the east!”
“This is not about honor! It is about saving lives!”
“Stop it!” Kazen shouted. “Please, stop it!”
“Death is inevitable!” Shanks hollered again, ignoring Kazen’s pleas. “When the end comes, honor is all that matters!”
“Just stop it, both of you!” Kazen bellowed once more.
Red-faced and torn by anger, the others reluctantly quieted themselves and slid uneasily back into their seats. Kazen, too, flopped down into a chair at the head of the table. His fingers tapping anxiously on the table, he took a moment to look at and carefully consider each one of his friends. “We cannot raise an army big enough to defeat Gregore,” he finally said, waving his hands to dismiss Shanks’ sputtering rebuttal. “Not even if we had all the time in the world. I, for one, would be quite happy staying in the city and letting this whole mess pass us by.” He waved his hands again, this time to quiet Ilagon’s claim. “But of course, we cannot. Valduron said that it is Gregore’s magic that keeps the shadowgate open. It is then my thinking that if Gregore dies, the gate will close and his dark forces will fall. If this is truly the case, then we do not need to defeat an entire army, just one wizard.”
“You want to assassinate Gregore?” Shanks asked, a delighted gleam in his eyes.
“Why not?” Kazen said with reluctance, a sick, nervous feeling swelling in his belly. “It’s what I am here to do, isn’t it?”
“The chances of getting close enough to Gregore are very slim,” Ilagon said. “He will be closely guarded.”
“I know,” Kazen admitted. “But we cannot hope to defeat his forces, and fleeing to the west will only hasten his victory.” His voice quieted as he rubbed his hands uneasily over his face. “All I have wanted, since this whole matter began, was to go back home and live out a quiet life. And it would be dishonest of me to say I did not wish it now. But, whether it has been designed by fate, or more likely, just a terrible mistake, I have been chosen for a task, and I am beginning to think I will not be permitted to rest until I have done my best to see it through. I will go to the east, and I will try to find Gregore. And, if there is power enough in my hands, I will even try to destroy him. And then”—he sank down in his chair and sullenly crossed his arms over his chest—“and then I am going home . . . I do not ask any of you to come with me.”
All stared quietly at Kazen as he fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve.
“Spoken like a true leader,” Ilagon said proudly. “But you need not fear going to Rassadoth alone.”
Kazen closed his eyes and sighed with relief.
“Aye.” Shanks smiled. “It’ll take more than threat of certain death to keep us away, as well.”
“Then it is settled,” Ilagon said. “We will follow the Flame Weaver to Rassadoth.”
Though relieved that he would not be forced to set off on his own, Kazen was a bit surprised that his plot had been so easily received. “You really think it is a good idea?” he blundered out hastily. “I . . . I am sure there could be a better plan.”
“It’s the best plan we’ve got.” E’enna smiled. “And I think it’s an excellent idea.”
“As do I,” Ilagon said. “Tomorrow we shall ask Valduron to assist us in gathering supplies, and we will leave as soon as we are able.”
“Then we should all get a good night’s rest,” Shanks stated. “These may be the last beds we see for a very long while.”
“I think I would prefer to stay up,” Kazen muttered. “For a while, anyway. Maybe finish off the rest of this bread and honey.”
“Always thinking with your stomach.” E’enna shook her head.
“Suit yourself, lad,” Shanks said with a chuckle, “but don’t stay up too late. You don’t want to be the last one up again.”
Kazen bid each one of his friends a goodnight as they left the hall and retired to their rooms for the night. Pushing aside the plateful of food in front of him, he rubbed his churning stomach. Wondering how it was that the others seemed to take so casually to the undertaking of such an ill-fated task, he brooded silently in the dimming hall for hours.
Resting his aching head upon the smooth wooden table, he allowed his heavy eyelids to close for only a moment when he suddenly became aware of a dark presence all around him. A misty green haze crept in through the open windows, swirling and churning as it rapidly enveloped the whole room. Kazen tried to leap to his feet but found himself completely paralyzed. With no voice in his throat and not the strength to lift his head, he could only watch as the walls of the great hall melted away like wax, revealing a dark sky set ablaze by fire and storm. An endless black sea raged and seethed on every side, pounding mercilessly against rocky shores and tall, forbidding cliffs. Enormous winged creatures, veiled by shadow, circled high above, their ghostly cries knitted with the howling wind.
Amidst the chaos, nestled on the lowest rise of a jagged crag, a black stronghold cast its gloom upon the desiccated land. Born of stone and shadow, the keep bided defiantly upon the cliff side, unwavering before the angry sea, which hammered and gnawed relentlessly at its lower walls. Nothing of light lived in this place. Only death and shadow lingered there.
Still, a presence was near. More chilling than the icy sea, a dark and indiscernible figure peered down from the highest balcony of the black keep. An ancient being of magic and cruelty, it reveled in the power of darkness. Casting a sovereign gaze across the ruined land, the shadowy figure erupted in a fit of beastly laughter that shoo
k the crumbing hillside.
“Kaaaazen,” a hollow voice crooned.
“It’s time, Kazen.”
“Kazen!”
“It’s time to wake up, Kazen!”
Chapter 12
Kazen nearly leapt from his skin as he was suddenly startled awake. Still half in a daze, he toppled out of his chair and onto the hard floor.
“Are you all right?” E’enna gasped, yanking Kazen back up by his arm.
Taking in the familiar surroundings of the great hall warily, Kazen slid limply back into his chair. “Yes,” he managed, barely able to hear his own words over his pounding heart. “I’m fine.”
“You didn’t sleep out here all night, did you?”
“I suppose I did,” Kazen answered, concealing his shaking hands under the dining table.
Plopping down beside Kazen, E’enna nodded toward the back of the hall. “I’m surprised they didn’t wake you. They’ve been at it for nearly an hour.”
Kazen turned to look and was happy to see that Valduron had returned. Shanks was pacing the floor impatiently in front of the old dragon, flailing his arms about and speaking rather crossly to the dragon king.
“What are they fighting about?” Kazen asked.
“Valduron does not think Shanks and I should travel on with you to Rassadoth,” E’enna answered, “but, as always, Shanks is quite persistent in his argument.”
Kazen looked thoughtfully at E’enna. “Do you really want to come? I don’t want you or Shanks to feel obligated to come with me. You have already done so much. I would not think any less of you if you decided to stay. There is still much good that can be done to the west.”
“Of course we want to come,” E’enna said with a roll of her eyes. “I have waited my whole life for this. Did you really think we would let you walk out of this city without us?”
The Flame Weaver Page 14
