Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon)

by Appleton, Scott

  He led the way out of the stable and dropped to one knee in front of Oganna. “How’s my favorite little lady?”

  “Can I ride one of those horses, Uncle Ombre? Please.”

  “That would be up to your father.”

  A fly buzzed in Ilfedo’s face, and he swatted it away. “Are they tame?”

  “The mares? No. But the stallion rides gentler than a Nuvitor in flight. I’m breeding them. The mares seem more free-spirited than the stallion, surprisingly.” He patted Oganna’s back. “She’d be safe with me.”

  “You said you are breeding them?”

  “Evenshadow stallions would make invaluable mounts for the army officers, Ilfedo. I’ve tested these animals, and their strength and stamina is superior to ordinary horses.”

  Ilfedo nodded. He’d heard that Commander Veil had an affinity for horses. “So you and Veil are looking to train young stallions for battle.”

  “Precisely!” Ombre stood and tousled Oganna’s blond hair. “What do you say I take her for a ride?”

  At that moment Caritha entered the fort. As the great doors shut behind her, she strode toward Ilfedo. He kissed Oganna’s forehead and shooed her toward Ombre. “Have fun but be careful, my daughter. And, Ombre, take care of her.”

  Then he turned to greet Caritha.

  “The Elite Thousand are ready,” she said to him, while casting a subtle glance in Ombre’s direction. “My sisters and I have taught them everything they are capable of learning. It is time to begin instructing our new pupil.”

  He steered her toward the gates. “First, I want to see what the Elite are capable of.”

  Commander Veil joined them at Ilfedo’s request. They left the fort and the town, making their way through the forest to the encampment of the Elite. Veil entered ahead of them. His orders rang from one tent to the next. “Lord Ilfedo wishes to test the soldiers. Every man, fall into line!”

  The lines hastily formed with a precision Veil could be proud of. The afternoon sun left few shadows, and the dirt crunched dryly under Ilfedo’s boots. He drew the sword of the dragon from his side. Every soldier gazed upon him, emotionless.

  As the flames sprang from the blade, Ilfedo fondled the crystalline handle. It felt incredibly smooth, even soft. “One by one Commander Veil will call you forward,” he said. The armor solidified on his body, rippling light that challenged the day. “Those of you who are called will individually step forward and demonstrate to me that you are capable of not only wielding your weapon but that you know how to defend yourself from fire by using its power.”

  Unrolling a scroll and holding it before his face, Commander Veil called out the first name. “Ezekiel Madon!”

  A burly, short fellow stepped from the ranks and marched between them to face Ilfedo. He was garbed in nothing more than a long-sleeved black shirt, gray pants, and leather shoes. But he drew his blade from its sheath with great speed. Light flashed from his sword, and his body glowed a moment, decking him in white armor—a metallic breastplate and greaves and white-leather garments underneath. A white helm adorned his head. His sword never ceased to glow with white light.

  Ilfedo took aim with his weapon and sent flames from its blade. The fire raged toward Ezekiel Madon but funneled into his blade, leaving him unburned.

  Running forward, Ilfedo struck Ezekiel’s blade with his own. The Elite warrior struck back, held his own. For several long minutes Ilfedo beat on the man’s sword until, satisfied it would not break and the man could hold his own, he stepped back and bowed. “Return to your place in line, Ezekiel Madon. You have passed the final test.”

  Striking his chest with the pommel of his sword, the man sheathed his weapon, the armor vanished, and he marched back into line.

  “Benediah Hilthan!” Commander Veil called out.

  And so the afternoon progressed. Every man merited Ilfedo’s sincerest respect. When evening came and Yimshi settled behind the hills, the Elite Thousand drew their swords, and the plain in which they stood radiated with beautiful light.

  Ilfedo stood apart from them and exhaled slowly. “Magnificent.”

  Oganna grinned at Uncle Ombre, and his eyes twinkled.

  “Are you ready, little one?” He knelt in front of her, poked her stomach, and hopped to his feet again. “Someday I want to have a little girl just like you—”

  “You do?”

  His gaze wandered after Caritha as she walked alongside Ilfedo. “Unless your aunt softens toward me it will never happen.” He sighed.

  “I like you, Uncle Ombre.”

  “And I like you, little one.” He bobbed his head toward the stable. “Want to go riding?”

  She jumped, and he caught her, swinging her legs over his strong shoulders. He glided into the stable, ducking once to keep her from hitting her head on the doorframe. The Evenshadow stallion whinnied and kicked the stall door.

  “Anxious, aren’t you Midnight?”

  “Is that his name?” she asked.

  He chuckled as he opened the stall door and lifted her off his shoulders onto the magnificent creature. “Yes, my little princess. Midnight is his name.” Her legs barely held on to the animal’s shoulders.

  Ombre patted the Evenshadow’s shoulder and stroked its neck before slipping the bridle over its ears. He swung up behind her, his knees gripping Midnight’s sides. The stallion’s body quivered, and its muscles rippled beneath them. Ombre held her firmly with one arm while managing the reins of their mount with the other.

  He leaned forward. “Fill your hands with his mane, Oganna.” She grabbed handfuls of the long silvery hairs and tightened her fists.

  Midnight lunged out the door, and she felt as if she’d left her breath in his stall as he raced through the courtyard.

  “Open the gates!” Ombre called.

  Four swordsmen put their bodies against the doors, forcing them open ever so slowly. Midnight screamed. He darted through the narrow opening between the gates. The people in the streets divided before them. At last they left civilization and raced through the fields. The rush of air cooled her face, startled birds flew past her head, and Yimshi’s rays turned the greenery into gold.

  Midnight’s hooves beat methodically, pulling and driving him forward until he came to the forest’s edge. The horse did not slow its pace. Reaching the tree line, it slipped between the trunks and fled over the forest floor.

  Ombre leaned over Oganna, and his body pressed her against the stallion’s neck until silvery hairs whipped around her head. He guided the stallion left, avoiding a large tree. A fallen tree lay across their path at eye-level, and she ducked her head until they passed beneath it. She raised her head.

  The underbrush a dozen yards ahead of them appeared too thick to let them pass, but Ombre steered Midnight through at breakneck speed. She buried her nose in the flailing strands of mane—not harsh, but soft and comforting—and leaned forward.

  Ombre wheeled the stallion around another tree and brought it to a halt. Golden beams streamed through the branches above, and vibrant green grass shivered in the meadow before them. Blue grass grew in small patches all about.

  He kicked off the horse, then helped her to the soft ground. As her feet landed, they stirred pollen into the air. The fragrance of flowers filled her nostrils. She bent down, pulled a clump of blue grass by the roots, and ran her fingertips over the fuzzy blades. At night the blades would glow. She had seen it happen.

  “Beautiful, is it not?”

  She nodded and swatted a mosquito with her free hand.

  “That stuff used to be a rarity. However, it seems to be spreading as time goes on.”

  Placing the grass in the dirt, Oganna nodded vigorously. “Father told me that some people are purposefully transplanting it. He said they want it to spread because it is so pretty.”

  “Like a beacon of hope after our clouded history.” He smiled and patted Midnight’s glistening coat. The stallion blew through its nostrils and galloped into the forest. “He’ll be back after he
finds a cold stream.” Ombre gazed after his mount. Then he waved his hand toward the curious patch of plucked grass. “People want to spread this stuff for two reasons, not just for its visual appeal. They are anxious about the Art’en. They think that by spreading this around the floors of our forests they can illuminate the shadows of night, thus keeping those winged men from sneaking upon them.”

  She sat in the grass. Across the clearing a rabbit dove under a bush. “Yipe!” She could have sworn it had said, “Yipe!” She shook her head and looked up at him. “Uncle Ombre, do you think the winged men are gone forever?”

  “Now that is impossible to say.” He sat beside her and crossed his legs, patting her head. “Did they frighten you the other night?”

  With a nod, she glanced at a finch perched at the meadow’s edge. It shook its tiny head and sneezed—she was sure she had seen it sneeze. But that was impossible. “Achoo!” Again she shook her head, trying to clear the sound from her mind.

  “Are you all right?” Ombre frowned down at her and felt her forehead. “You haven’t been having bad dreams or anything like that, have you?”

  “Oh no, Uncle Ombre, I never have bad dreams.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You can’t fool me. Even I had my share of nightmares as a child. Used to be bears as big as a house—”

  “Uncle Ombre?”

  “Mmm?” He twirled a lock of her hair around his finger and glanced at the sky, shading his eyes with his hand.

  She sighed and gazed up at him. “I really never have a bad dream—believe me. I’m not lying.”

  Returning her gaze he seemed to search her heart for a moment. His eyes widened and his brow rose. “That is not—natural.” He stroked his jaw with his thumb. “You always have good dreams?”

  Soberly, she fingered the clump of night grass. Should she tell him what was on her mind? He wouldn’t believe her. Of that she was certain. But what if she could share the experience with him?

  Ombre stood and took her hand in his. He walked her into the forest where bees buzzed past their heads and clamored over the blue and yellow flowers carpeting the ground. Butterflies of extraordinary variety flitted to more distant purple and white petals, keeping just out of reach. Yimshi’s rays pierced the woods, spotlighting a pool of water surrounded by bright moss. A small rainbow graced it where a light mist rose from the water’s surface.

  They sat cross-legged on a moss-covered stone. Oganna watched the scenery for a long while, drinking in creation’s glory. Then a strange voice entered her mind. “Fat, lazy humans—blurp! I wish they’d just leave.” The only things in sight were the butterflies and bees. Oh, and one bullfrog spying from the opposite side of the pool, only its head visible in the mud.

  “Uncle Ombre,” she said, turning to him and frowning. “Would you think me silly if I told you a strange secret?”

  “A strange secret?”

  “Yes. It is something I have not told anyone else. I know that people would laugh at me for saying it.” She suddenly jerked her head as another sound caught her ear. “I think I can hear the frogs talking.”

  He knit his brow, skepticism filling his eyes. “Talking frogs?”

  “Never mind.” She turned away, wishing she hadn’t told him. And why should he believe her? It sounded very silly, even to her. Then his hand grasped her shoulder.

  “Forgive me, little one. I should not doubt you.” He sighed. “Please, go on. Tell me everything.”

  A second bullfrog joined the first, and they hopped onto lily pads. One croaked, and she again heard something, though this time she could not discern what had been said. She waited a moment, and the croaking resumed. An entire conversation entered her mind. Not understanding why, she reached up, touched Ombre’s forehead, and listened to the bullfrogs. Their words formed in her mind, and she felt that he could now hear them too. His eyes grew big, and his jaw dropped in astonishment.

  “Do you hear them, Uncle Ombre?”

  In hushed tones he replied, “I do. I hear the bullfrogs talking!”

  For several minutes they listened together. Oganna maintained her touch on his forehead. The bullfrogs boasted to one another of their underwater homes and of how many tadpoles they had raised. They talked about the weather and complained about their neighbors. All in all, it sounded very much like a conversation between two people—except of course that they spoke of the most distasteful things for supper and of mannerisms that, to a human, were very strange.

  Oganna dropped her hand from his forehead. “Sometimes,” she said, “I can hear other creatures talking too, and I—”

  “Go on, little one. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Some of the wild animals come when I think of them.” Silence followed her claim. She rose and closed her eyes to focus her thoughts on a buck, nearby in the forest’s undergrowth. She could feel it respond to her call, and she heard it walk up behind her. A cool breeze rustled the leaves as the buck nuzzled her neck, then plucked a flower with its teeth and set it in her hand.

  Ombre looked up at her with mouth agape and eyes shining. “I never …”

  She petted the buck until it meandered back into the forest.

  “Little one.” Ombre gazed into her eyes. “I won’t pretend to know how you do these things, but from now on I promise you can tell me anything, and I will believe you. You are special, Oganna. Like your mother, you are unique.”

  They remained by the pool a little longer, but daylight was fleeting.

  “Are you ready to go?” Uncle Ombre threw her over his shoulder and returned to the clearing. She laughed the whole way until he set her in the grass.

  Midnight lifted his head from his grazing, whinnied, and trotted up to them. Silver flaked off his hoofs as he moved, leaving glowing chips on the ground.

  “Up we go.” Ombre set her in front of him on the Evenshadow, and they rode back to the fort.

  As Ombre put Midnight in his stall and removed the bridle, Commander Veil barreled into the stable. “Princess,” he asked, “how would you like a tour of our little town?” He looked to Ombre for permission.

  “If you promise to keep an eye on her at all times—”

  “Of course I will!” Veil leaned down and grinned. “What do you say, Princess?”

  She smiled back and gave him her hand. “I’ve always wanted to see the market.”

  “As you wish.” He bowed. She giggled.

  Ombre chuckled. “Beat it, you two! And have a good time.”

  When Veil and Oganna made their way to the market, a crowd followed them through the streets. The people pressed in and stared. They were not unfriendly, yet she found it discomfiting to be the center of attention.

  When they reached the market, everyone finally turned their attention away from her to the farmers behind their carts and the merchants tending their stands.

  “Come and see rubies, gold, even diamonds,” called a round man with a bald head. He ran his hand over his display of glistening gems. Two men stood by him, each of them with a hand inserted beneath his cape. Likely they concealed weapons.

  She peered through a white fence penning in a flock of sheep, at the young shepherd boy standing in the corner keeping an eye on them. Several passersby stopped, and a deeply tanned farmer stepped around the pen, grinning as he let them touch the wool draped over his arms.

  Nearby, a hunter held up raccoon pelts. A deer hung behind him on a rack.

  Occasionally a farmer’s crops produced insufficient return, and he would find himself without the means to provide for his family. Sometimes a hunter would have an off-season and would find himself without the means to trade for that which he needed. These people came to the market as well and tried to barter as best they could for what they needed.

  She saw one such man that evening. He was speaking with a merchant as she passed by. “I don’t have anything to trade, good sir,” she overheard him say. “But I am an honest man. I will pay you back double—soon as I am able.”

>   “Sorry, mister.” The merchant held up his hand as if to protect his produce. “I can’t be giving handouts, or I’ll end up in the ruts too. Now get lost! Come back when you have something substantial to offer.”

  The farmer hung his head as he turned away.

  “Stop!” Oganna broke free of Veil’s grip. She ran to the man and gazed up at him. As everyone watched, she reached into her dress pocket and drew out a beautiful gold chain. It had been a gift from a mayor’s wife on her last birthday. “Use this!”

  The man’s eyes widened. He looked at her offering, then at her. “My child, you are too kind. But I cannot take it. Times will favor me again.”

  Confused by his refusal, she backed away. Then, seeing he was embarrassed, she spoke again. “The gold is nothing to me. Take it.”

  Commander Veil lumbered up from behind her and put both hands on Oganna’s shoulders. “Do not refuse the future queen’s gift.”

  “Princess!” The farmer fell to his knees. “Forgive me. I did not realize. Certainly I will not accept—”

  Another voice interrupted him. “You most certainly can, and will.” The crowd parted. Ilfedo stepped through with Ombre following. The people bowed and made room for him. “Oganna will one day rule over your children. Do not deny her this simple deed, for in the performance of such things her heart will be encouraged to do good rather than evil.”

  He addressed Veil. “See to it that this man and his family are given what they need.” He picked up Oganna and she rode on his back.

  Holding on to her father with one hand, she held out the gold chain and smiled at the farmer. “Hold out your hand.”

  The farmer’s eyes sparkled as she dropped the chain in his open palm.

  “Thank you, sweet child.”

  Oganna nodded her head slightly, Ilfedo turned away, and they returned to the fort. Once inside, her father set her at a wooden table in the command center. An array of weapons decorated the walls. There was a wide variety of swords, as well as some spears and a few shields.