Dragon's Fire (Beating Back the Darkness Book 1)

by Tiger Hebert

  They smiled, and the conversation trailed off as the room began to fill up around them. The majority of the hall was taken up by the elves that had made the voyage. The others consisted of Duncan, Sophie, her helpers in the dining hall, and the humans who had come to their rescue. But it was the last one to enter the hall that caught the attention of nearly everyone, even the elf king.

  Those bright green eyes adorned a beautiful fair-skinned face. Long fiery red hair draped down past her shoulders, cascading over her all-black attire. She was stunning. It was impossible to not be aware of her natural beauty. Beyond the splendor of her youth, her movements and her demeanor told a different story. She walked quickly, but her eyes were downcast as she moved through the room. She did not smile or make small talk. Rather, she just made her way to the table where Duncan and Tua’Liluon would sit. She was different than the young woman that had saved the lives of so many elves, diving fearlessly into battle just days before. That night she exuded a confidence and a command that were so very different from the meekness he was observing now.

  “Good morning, Kiriana,” spoke the king.

  “Yes, good morning,” added the agreeable Duncan.

  “Good morning, my lords,” she replied softly with only but the briefest of eye contact.

  Duncan and the king continued their small talk as the food made its way to the tables. Duncan smothered his biscuits with creamy white gravy. Then he mixed in bits of the roasted boar and dove in, wasting no more time.

  The dining hall was a discordant mixture of sounds as the blended crowd enjoyed the assorted foods. Freshly made crepes joined the blend of fruit, biscuits, and boar to complete the grand feast. The elves were not familiar with all these new foods, but they soon found that their diets could really stand more variety. The excited chatter of the crowd extended beyond the meal. Kiriana, however, just listened as she ate in relative silence, speaking only when questioned. The king couldn’t reconcile this young woman with the brave woman who rescued his people; they just couldn’t be one and the same.

  “Kiriana, we have just received word this morning that our guests from the south are on their way. They should be arriving in a little more than a week, assuming there are no…delays. I need you to oversee that preparations are made for their arrival. I trust you can take care of this?” asked Duncan.

  “You trust correctly, Grand Master,” was her formal response.

  Without saying anything further, she got up from the table and left the now mostly emptied dining hall. Tua’Liluon watched her walk out of the room with a puzzled expression on his face, and then he looked back at Duncan.

  “What is wrong with Kiriana?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” replied Duncan.

  “That is hardly the fierce warrior that you sent to us,” stated the king.

  “Oh, it is,” the little old man insisted.

  “Is she always like that? She was meek, almost timid,” inquired the king.

  “Yeah, I guess so,” said Duncan as he pondered the question. “But whenever she is on assignment, she always rises to the occasion. She is a very special girl, incredibly capable. One my best students, you know.”

  Tua’Liluon asked, “How long has she trained here?”

  “Most of her life actually. I have watched her grow from childhood into the masterful slayer she is now. Only a few ever ascend to the rank of master slayer, you know. In the recorded history of the brotherhood, which spans over three hundred years, you know, there have only been eight to do so. We are fortunate to have two warriors of such skill right now,” explained the grand master.

  “Three hundred years?” questioned the king.

  “Oh yes.”

  “But Darnisi’s recorded history…” added the king.

  “Oh, the brotherhood was not founded here, my friend.”

  “Then where?” asked the king.

  “Girielle, of course,” answered Duncan with a grin.

  “Girielle, the home of my fathers?” questioned the dumbfounded elf.

  “Surely you did not think that man alone had the foresight to establish such an order? The Brotherhood of the Unveiled Eye was founded by one Lorenathi’Liluon…your grandfather was our first grand master!” remarked Duncan as he chuckled.

  “How could I have never known?” asked Tua’Liluon.

  “As I understand it, your grandfather fell in one of the attacks on Girielle. He passed, and the city fell, but it gave your family the chance they needed to escape. Unfortunately, your father Ilin’Liluon got ill and died before having a chance to establish a new order here in the west. As such, the order was seemingly lost and surely forgotten by the elves, but all was not lost,” explained the grand master.

  “I do not know what to make of this,” said the king.

  “You have many more questions, but I believe we can answer a great deal of them over the coming days,” replied Duncan.

  “Very well,” answered the king with a brief pause before continuing, “Duncan, one other thing. Before you said there are two master slayers. Have we met the second?” asked the king with raised eyebrows.

  “Not yet, but you will soon. Master Slayer Kyarl was sent as a herald to the dwarven kingdom of Dar Mar’Kren. He is leading a large company of dwarves, and apparently humans, to us as we speak,” said Duncan before he wolfed down another plate of gravy-smothered biscuits.

  “Dwarves? Why are they coming here?” questioned the elf.

  “They need a home too,” simplified the old man.

  “What happened to Dar Mar’Kren?” inquired the king.

  “Not what happened, but what is about to happen. The shadow drake has stirred up his mindless army, and he is driving that frenzied swarm upon the dwarven stronghold as we speak,” answered Duncan.

  “But the dwarven strongholds and their ability to withstand invasion is…legendary. Outnumbered, outmatched means nothing, for they have to simply call upon the Strength of the Mountain,” remarked Tua’Liluon out of respect and confusion.

  “They will call upon the Strength of the Mountain…and it will fall under the shadow,” said the grand master with a sad face, and they both fell silent for a moment.

  Then Duncan continued, “Many of the dwarves will make the pilgrimage, and they will be joined by the men of Nashia, or at least those that are left. Even though it will be a rather small addition, it will bolster our forces.”

  The gray-bearded man got up from the table and asked the king to go for a walk with him. Then before departing, he stashed a few extra biscuits in the pockets of his robe. Happy to stretch his legs, the king got up and walked with his short host. They left the dining hall and ventured out into the cobblestone streets of Tempour. The tropical air was warm and damp. It was very different from the fresh coastal breeze of Trellion. They walked slowly as Duncan gave him the guided tour of the stone city.

  It had been long since the king had seen the cities of men. The wooden structures and brightly colored linens that he was accustomed to were instead replaced by rock and brick, and the fabrics were dark and dull, with blacks and browns and reds. Many things had changed, and many more were still changing. He and his people would just have to adapt.

  Duncan showed him the various shops and the fresh food market. They made their way past the library, the fletcher, and then finally, to the blacksmith, where they made a stop.

  Duncan introduced the smith to the king and said, “The weapons of your people are not the same as the weapons we are accustomed to. Gragarr here is a true artisan, and if you can detail it, I am sure he can craft it for you. Teach him about your weapons, and you will have them.”

  King Tua’Liluon carefully detailed the intricacies of the elegant weapons of his people. He provided a fine rendering of the glaive and shield that was used in combination by the elven royal guard. The smith wrapped his mind around the concept of their weapon of choice. The king told Gragarr that he would bring his own equipment to him later in the day so he could have a prop
er working model. They departed from the smithy and resumed their tour.

  “What is that tall structure there in the middle?” asked the king as he pointed to the imposing building that towered high above everything.

  “That is the temple, and it is our destination,” answered Duncan with a smile. “We will be spending much of our time there.”

  “This temple, it is the place where you worship your gods?” inquired the king.

  Duncan’s amusement was apparent as he responded, “It is a place for us to worship the Ancient One.” He followed his own cryptic message with a wink and a warm smile.

  Somewhat confused, Tua’Liluon dug deeper, asking, “Is it permissible for an elf to enter the holy place of your god? Customs must not permit this?”

  Duncan chuckled at the king’s expected response, and then he asked, “Why wouldn’t you be allowed to worship your God?”

  “Oh no, we are not a religious people,” maintained the king politely but proudly.

  “Quite frankly, your traditions and practices have no bearing on the matter,” stated the old man briskly.

  The king was uncomfortable with the topic, and his agitation was bubbling to the surface. Then he replied, “Even if we worshipped a god, how do you know it would look like the one you have chosen for yourselves?” The king was confident in his response, and he awaited Duncan’s, sure that he would recognize and admit his folly.

  The strange little man tugged at his own beard and smirked at the king before saying, “Ha, your error is thinking we chose Him!”

  With a confused look on his face, the king replied, “What? I do not understand.”

  “We choose Him because He first chose us,” replied the gray beard with sincerity. “The good news is that He chose you too, King Tua’Liluon, just like He chose your grandfather before you.”

  “He chose me? If this god chose me and my grandfather, why have I never heard of him until I am among you humans? I find it awfully convenient that now that we are among your people, your god has chosen me,” replied the king sarcastically.

  “He chose you long before you even rose to the throne of Trellion, way back to the time before you rested in your mother’s womb,” answered Duncan.

  “Then where was he when my father died? And where was he when my wife died and when she took my unborn son with her? And what about when my kin were slaughtered and Trellion was burned to the ground? Where was your god then?” asked the king bitterly as his emotions surged.

  “That, my friend, is a great question. Why don’t you ask Him yourself?” replied the grand master as he pushed the temple’s large wooden door open before him.

  The king’s eyes climbed the height of the two-hundred-year old stone cathedral, from the doorstep before him to the steeple the towered above him. Then as his eyes fell back down to the door, he took a deep breath and entered into the darkened interior of the temple. The two men silently walked toward the altar through the stillness of the temple. The temple, despite its great size, was not full of grandeur. Its marvelous architecture remained naked, unadorned in fanciful and decorative furnishings that might be expected. Rather, the wooden benches were rugged and worn. The walls were dressed in only the most modest of tapestries. Even the lamp stands were made of simple metals, not the silver and gold that would denote kingship.

  “I... don’t understand,” stated the king as he took in the surroundings.

  “I do not ever want to lose sight what is truly important. If you could experience the fullness of the value, power, and purpose of this place by simply walking in the doors and viewing the splendor and extravagance of the workings of man’s own hands, then this place is not worth the ground it’s built upon,” shared Duncan. “This modesty, I pray, allows us to never lose sight of the real gift here.”

  The king tried to make sense of the old man’s words as they walked. They moved forward until they were standing before the altar. Upon the nondescript altar stood a rugged wooden lectern, which held a large brown leather-bound book. Upon the cover was an engraved shape of a falling star. The embossed golden foil made the star shine brightly against the dark backdrop of the worn, tattered leather cover.

  “I believe you had some questions?” reiterated Duncan as he urged the king forward.

  King Tua’Liluon stepped forward to retrieve the ancient text, and before he laid a finger upon the binding, something like a rushing wind flipped the pages of the text open. The pages turned as if flipped by unseen hands, and then it ceased, and the book fell open to a certain page. As the king leaned close, he quietly read the words of the opening passage:

  I am the Lord your God, and you will be my people. If you would just seek me, you will find me. And if my people will humble themselves and pray and seek my face, turning from their wicked ways, then I will hear them from heaven, and I will lay down my life for them. I will forgive their sin, and I will heal their lands.

  The king stumbled backward as he reeled from the weight of what he just read.

  “Must be a draft in here,” chimed in the old man as he chuckled with amusement.

  The king looked at Duncan as he struggled to grasp what just happened.

  “Many of us have had that same reaction at one time or another,” added Duncan.

  “What...I-I don’t understand,” stammered the king. “How is this possible?”

  “Well, He doesn’t just plop the book right down with the pages open and everything for you every time, so you better not get used to that. But it looks like someone is trying to get your attention,” answered Duncan.

  “Who is this God you serve?” questioned the king.

  “There are many names for the Ancient One. He is the Father of all creation. It is written that life itself came from his very breath as He spoke us into being,” explained the sage.

  “Will you teach me more of this God of yours?” begged Tua’Liluon as the two of them ascended the nearby staircase.

  “Of course, my friend, for there is a great deal for you to learn. Much of which is about to take place before our very eyes,” warned Duncan.

  “You mean the growing threat?” asked the king.

  “The shadow drake and his army are but a plot element. They are not the whole narrative. No, there are things of far greater importance than the wave of darkness that crashes upon Aurion in this hour. The greatest but perhaps darkest hour of our existence is upon us, as foretold by the prophecies of old,” declared Duncan.

  “Are we at the end of all things?” asked the concerned king as he reached the balcony that rested above the lower sanctuary.

  “Far from it. We are in the final hour before the dawn of a new age—the age of the Frelsarine,” exclaimed the grand master as he sat down in an old wooden chair.

  “What is a Frelsarine?” asked the king as he surveyed the temple library. The eyes of the king glanced over the thousands of books and dusty tomes that lined the tall shelves. Tinted shades of light illuminated the study as they pierced the monumental sheet of stained glass. And once he saw the great window of painted glass, he couldn’t take his eyes off it. It was a depiction of a bright star that had come from heaven to earth, giving light into the darkness. It was the same image that adorned the cover of their holy text. He found it to be beautiful, beautiful in a way he couldn’t even understand or describe.

  “Not what, but who. The Frelsarine is the mighty warrior king of God to be sent down from heaven to bring light to a world in darkness,” taught the grand master.

  “Then this is the Frelsarine?” asked the king as he pointed to the star on the mural on the painted glass.

  “It is indeed,” answered Duncan with a nod. “It is written that through the life of this great champion, the Ancient One will defeat the dark ones and crush the wicked serpent. Those who would choose to raise the banner of the Frelsarine would find freedom from the darkness, and their blood debts forever paid in full!”

  “And you believe this warrior king, this Frelsarine, to be coming soon?
” inquired the king.

  “The signs of the times tell us that our hero will be revealed in this hour,” stated Duncan.

  “A moment ago, you mentioned a blood debt. I do not understand what that is. Can you teach me this concept?” inquired the king, hungering for greater understanding.

  “Certainly. The Ancient One is holy and without fault, and as such, He has a standard that mirrors that. Try as we might, none of us can achieve it. When we fail to reach His standards or fall short, it is called sin. This sin acts as a divide, separating us from Him. This separation between God and His people is also known as the blood debt,” explained the teacher.

  “How can you worship a God if you are separated from Him?” queried the king.

  “In short, you really can’t, unless the blood debt is paid,” answered Duncan.

  “Paying the blood debt. That sounds…barbaric,” remarked the elf king.

  “The Fate Scrolls describes a great love—the love that He has for His creation. In fact, it says that we were created for no other purpose than to be loved by Him. It is out of this love that He made a way for the debt to be paid, thus removing the barrier. Animals can be given as a sacrificial offering to the Lord, as an atonement. The shedding of their blood temporarily satisfies our debt of blood, and we can enter back into relationship with Him,” detailed the teacher.

  “So where does this Frelsarine come into play?” asked the inquisitive king.

  “To our understanding, it tells us that after he slays the dragon, he will pay the blood debt once and for all, forever removing the barrier. It is yet to be seen what that ceremony will look like, my friend, but I believe we will both find out soon, very soon,” postulated Duncan.

  “How will we know when this king of all kings comes? Do we even know where he will come from?” questioned the king.

  “It is written that he will come swiftly and powerfully, like a rushing wind from the north. He would be born of flesh and blood, yet he will be without spot or blemish of character, unlike any other. He would be called King and Priest, and his throne would be eternal. His bones would never be broken. This warrior king would be the lion of the Ancient One, and yet he would hunger for peace,” professed the sage. “There are many more prophecies that go into greater detail of the Frelsarine, but they are incomplete while the aforementioned are the undamaged scrolls and texts that we have been able to recover so far.”