“Alain?!” The voice came from behind Dartan, and it conveyed both surprise and concern.
“Norrick,” Alain answered, without looking past Dartan. “Right on time.”
“Surprise,” Logan said with mock enthusiasm.
Dartan spun on his heels to find a man holding a white box with golden in-lays. He held it by two handles set into the sides, and pulled it close to his body when he noticed Dartan admiring it.
“What are you doing here?” Norrick asked.
“Waiting on you,” Alain answered with a faint smile.
Norrick nervously shifted his eyes from Dartan to Logan, absently licking his lips. “These men, who are they?”
“Ah, where are my manners? Let me introduce Logan.” Alain held out a hand in Logan’s direction, who stood with one hand on his sword. “The Dragonslayer.” Norrick’s eyes widened at the unexpected title, but nearly fell out of his head as Alain continued. “And this is Dartan, the heir.”
“The heir?” he stuttered, cradling the box under his arm. He eyed Dartan a bit more closely. “So, this is your son?”
“Wow,” Logan stated. “I am so embarrassed. I swear this has never happened to me before. Can we just forget I said ‘surprise’ and let me try again? That first one was obviously a premature exclamation.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dartan said, turning back to face Alain. “It’s not really a surprise anyway.” Alain’s reaction was little more than raised eyebrows, which, honestly, was even more than Dartan expected. “The way you talk about my mother, and how you’re letting your guilt slowly kill you made it hard for me not to figure it out.” Alain looked past him to Norrick.
“Thank you for bringing my chest,” Alain said. “You can just drop it there and be on your way.” Norrick made no move, other than shifting his suspicious glare between Dartan and Logan. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go on alone from here,” Alain continued. “As you can probably see, this Northern force isn’t going anywhere.”
Norrick looked down at his feet. “How long have you known?”
“I’m a very old and vain man,” Alain admitted. “Which means I like to believe I’ve known all along, and only recently allowed myself to see it. In truth, since Roal claimed to know about the heir, which hasn’t been long enough for me to understand why.”
“He said no one would get hurt,” Norrick tried offering as explanation. “He said I would save hundreds upon thousands of innocent lives on both sides of the border by just bringing him this box.”
“Take a look around!” Logan said with outstretched arms. “Clearly ‘he’ didn’t let these men in on the plan to save lives, because plenty were lost here.”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Norrick mumbled to his feet.
“He told you that as well, I guess?” Logan pressed. “Exactly who is ‘he’?” Logan gripped his sword tight and raised its point to Norrick. “And if you say Jarel, so help me, it will be the very last thing you ever say.”
“Logan! Enough!” Dartan moved between them.
“You’re taking his side?” Logan asked in disbelief.
“I’m not taking sides at all,” Dartan soothed. “I just think there’s been enough killing.” He moved closer to Logan. “This man is not responsible for the deaths here, and he’s doing what he feels, and believes, is best for everyone. Did he trust the wrong person? Has he been led astray? Most likely. But who among us isn’t guilty of the same?”
“Ahem!” It was Alain, and all three gave him their attention. “I’m normally not one to take sides,” he said. “However, in this case I would agree with Logan.”
“What?” Logan and Dartan said simultaneously.
Alain regarded Norrick a moment, and his image glided across the ground towards the silent, slightly shaking man. “I gave this man everything. I trusted him, and treated him as a friend. How does he repay me? As my body is deteriorating in front of my own eyes, he betrays me to the biggest threat our kingdom has ever faced. And for what?” Alain’s eyes were cold and fixed on Norrick, who knew enough about wizards to know better than to meet the gaze of even a projected aura of one. The question hung heavy in the air, and as the silence grew, it became obvious he was waiting for an answer.
It was Dartan who provided one. “He’s already told us why.” Alain turned his glare on Dartan, who was not afraid to return it. “He was promised the lives of innocent people, and paid for them by giving up his entire life, and betraying the man who gave it to him.” The stare between them remained unbroken until Dartan spoke again.
“What would my mother have said? Whose side would she have taken?” Alain’s glare softened, then faltered, unable to meet Dartan’s eyes as he contemplated his words. Dartan looked back at Norrick, who still had his eyes fixed on the ground. “I think his sacrifice makes him the most selfless of us all.”
“And the most naïve,” Logan mumbled.
With a sheen in his eyes, Norrick fell to his knees at Dartan’s feet. Logan jumped, putting his sword between them, but Dartan halted him with an outstretched hand. Logan backed away, but kept his sword ready. Norrick bowed his head to the ground, and placed the box at Dartan’s feet.
“I was promised that you, specifically, would be unharmed if I delivered this to Jarel,” Norrick said. “I can see now he has no intention of keeping that promise, or any promise.”
“I’m afraid it will be a hard learned lesson,” Dartan said, and Norrick nodded his head slowly. “I thank you for returning the box, but I can’t allow you to return to Pavlora.”
“I understand. Banishment is more than fair.” Norrick then sat up and met Dartan’s eyes. “I remember your mother. She was very kind to me. You remind me of her very much.” He rose, but kept his head bowed. “I regret I won’t be able to live under your rule, but I will always consider you my King.”
Dartan replied with a slight nod of thanks, and Norrick moved past their small group towards the far end of the pass.
“Banishment?!” Logan hissed. “Seriously? Last I checked, the punishment for treason was death. Preferably slow and painful.”
“Banishment won’t seem such a humane judgment once Jarel finds him,” Dartan countered.
“Maybe,” he reluctantly agreed.
Alain had moved closer to the pair as they discussed the degree of penalty. He now stood silently next to Dartan, his eyes moving restlessly between Dartan and the box resting at his feet.
“You really want me to pick up that box, don’t you?” Dartan asked.
“Its contents have taken on much more importance after losing the dragon-skin chest to Jarel.”
“So, we need to make sure he doesn’t get this one?”
“Precisely,” Alain said, exaggerating the motion of looking from Dartan to the box and back again.
Dartan looked down at the box, but didn’t move. He couldn’t keep the small smile from his face as he asked, “I guess you want me to pick it up right now, then?”
Alain stopped shifting and stared straight at Dartan. “You remind me of your mother, as well.” Dartan’s smile broadened, and he caught an unmistakable glimpse of one on Alain’s face as well as he knelt to retrieve the box from the snow. Before he could reach out for it, Logan stopped him.
“What’s he doing?” Logan asked. Dartan turned to follow his gaze, and found Norrick standing at the edge of the cliff, staring back at them.
“You don’t think,” Dartan began rising to his feet, but it was too late. Seeing all eyes on him, Norrick held up a hand in farewell and stepped off the cliff.
“No!” Dartan shouted, stretching out his hand, reaching for Norrick. Dartan held his hand flat, palm up, and Norrick floated in mid-air. “You don’t have to do this,” Dartan tried reasoning with him.
In response, Norrick took two steps further into the open air. Already Dartan could feel his arm growing tired, and worse, as he reached for Norrick, their emotions began to swirl. Regret, sorrow, and pain from Norrick all began to overwhelm
Dartan’s efforts to convince him to return.
“I can feel you,” Norrick said with a sad smile. “I believe you may be even more powerful than your father.” He looked down at the emptiness beneath his feet, for a moment feeling the tug of gravity Dartan was fighting against. “But it’s just not enough.” With that, he turned and continued walking away from the cliff’s edge.
Dartan tried to call out, but was unable to form the words. He tried forcing his will on Norrick, but he had no more power to spare. He even tried pleading with him in his mind, but found only silence. Norrick disappeared into a bank of heavy fog hanging over the valley below, and a moment later Dartan felt him slip away.
Sweat and tears mixed on his face. “This place must be cursed,” Dartan whispered. “I’ll wager not one other tract of land has seen so much violence and death as this valley.” He shook his head and turned back to the box. So much trouble for what looked like something so trivial.
As his fingers contacted the sides of it, a small vibration ran up his arm, ending with a click from the front of the box. He looked up at Alain and received a ‘go on’ nod. The lid lifted easily, and resting inside, cradled in the dark velvet lining, was a spellstone.
“This is yours?”
Alain nodded. “And one day soon it will pass to you.”
Dartan reached in slowly to touch the dull, white crystal. He braced himself, expecting a rush of power to engulf his arm. Surely the object sustaining spells responsible for everything around him must ooze magic. His hand grasped it tightly, and felt … nothing. The only sensations he received were tactile.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Alain asked, and Dartan agreed immediately. There was no need for further explanation. After shifting its weight from one hand to the other, Dartan placed it back into the box, and closed the lid. The same click came from the latch, securing the box once again. Sunlight reflected off the top and into his eyes, calling attention to itself. Dartan shielded his eyes and looked up to mark the sun’s position. Logan followed his lead, both men noting the sun was low and the day long.
“You’d better get moving,” Logan said.
“Me?” Dartan replied. “Don’t you mean ‘we’?”
“Yes,” Alain interjected. “Both of you should leave while Roal still thinks you dead.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Logan said.
“But, Aliet,” Dartan argued. “She needs us.”
Logan pointed towards the cliff. “Cave full of dragon eggs. Remember? Marcus isn’t going to be coming back to help me, and I know you won’t stop until Aliet is safe, or you are dead.”
Dartan took a step towards Logan, arm outstretched and explanation on his lips. Logan stopped him with raised hands. “Don’t worry,” Logan soothed. “I get it. No need to explain. I know it’s not all about Aliet, and that where she is, you’re also going to find the dragon box. Whatever is in that box is obviously important or Alain wouldn’t have risked so much for it.” He looked to Alain for some sort of confirmation, but the wizard was lost in other thoughts.
Logan shook his head and turned back to Dartan. “If even one of those eggs hatches, we’re going to be dealing with an enemy that nearly wiped us out the last time we clashed. Only this time, it will be because I let it happen.”
“I thought you said they’ve been there for hundreds of years, and you have no idea why they haven’t hatched,” Dartan said. “The threat we’re facing from Jarel is real, right now, and I need your help.”
“The threat that lies below our feet is just as real, and I assure you, much more deadly,” Logan replied.
“Quiet. Both of you.” Alain broke his silence, interrupting the argument. “He’s right.”
“Thank you,” Dartan and Logan answered simultaneously. It would have started another argument, but Alain continued on as though no one had spoken.
“The enchantment on the box was the only thing binding that dragon to this place,” Alain explained. “Most likely, it was also responsible for keeping the eggs dormant. With it removed, the spell is broken, and I fear the hatching of eggs will soon follow.” Alain closed his eyes and bowed his head for a moment. His lips moved silently, then a low mumble escaped them. “Box taken. Eggs. The heir alone.” His eyes opened and head raised as he announced, “The plan must change.”
“There was a plan?” Logan mumbled.
Alain either didn’t hear or chose to ignore Logan, turning instead to Dartan. “You will continue on after the box.”
“And Aliet,” Dartan insisted.
No time for argument, Alain waved his hand and nodded in agreement. “And Aliet,” he added. “But you will do it alone, except for my guidance.” He turned to Logan. “You will deal with the eggs, Dragonslayer.” Logan nodded. “But,” he raised a finger and his eyebrows. “First we must have a discussion about how.” Addressing Dartan again, “You have no more time to waste here. Continue along the path to the Northern Capital. I will join you soon.”
Dartan shook his head. “No, we aren’t done here. I will not leave Marcus’s body to rot next to this Northern filth.”
“A hero’s death,” Logan agreed, “demands a hero’s tribute.”
“Very well,” Alain said. “But be quick about it.”
There was not much in the way of wood in the valley, so they gathered items from the bodies. Arrows, wooden handles, and clothing made the base of what would fuel the pyre. Marcus’s body was placed atop and Logan stood back, giving Dartan room to ignite the fire.
Dartan held his hand out towards the pile, gathering power, then stopped. He lowered his hand and reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand it held the flint Marcus had used to light so many of their nightly fires.
“No magic,” Dartan said, looking down at the flint. “He would have wanted it this way.” Logan merely nodded and looked on in silence as Dartan went about the ritual of lighting a fire.
The men watched the fire consume Marcus’s body in silence. It was Alain who finally spoke. “Dartan, it is time to go.”
Dartan nodded and placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “We will see one another again. I am sure if it.”
“In this world, or the next,” Logan agreed. Dartan turned to leave, but Logan stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Remember, we’re dead. Do everything you can to keep that advantage, for as long as you can.” Dartan nodded, then marched on towards the far end of the valley, turning only once to raise a final hand of farewell to Logan.
Once Dartan passed out of sight, Logan turned to Alain. “All right, wizard. Start talking.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
This was the one, he was sure. On the outside it looked almost exactly like all the rest. It was slightly taller than himself, and too large for him to put his hands around. What made this one different? It was the first, the oldest, and therefore, the most likely to hatch first.
Its pull was undeniable. He had felt it as soon as he entered the chamber, but he was sure he hadn’t noticed it when here the first time. That made him nervous.
What now? He had gathered swords from the men above, and one of them he now held in his hand, resting against his side. He fidgeted with the grip, opening and closing his fingers, spinning the blade.
It would be a quick fight. The blade would certainly pierce the shell and the creature’s scales shouldn’t be hardened enough to deflect the blow. Shouldn’t. So, a quick fight, but still a struggle, as there would be some resistance.
He took a breath and looked around. This would just be the first of many. He wouldn’t even let his mind serve up the nightmare of multiple hatchings at once. Perhaps the screams of a dying dragon were just the thing to trigger a dormant egg. Nope! He pushed that thought aside as well.
Was there really another option? He had thought the wizard crazy for suggesting it, but now he wondered. The words still echoed in his head.
“It will be a brand new generation, uncorrupted by the previous. It is a chance to start anew.”
“I
t’s a chance for it all to happen again,” Logan argued. The wizard made a strong case, but ultimately it would be Logan that history would label as savior or failure.
A sharp crack rang through the cavern, bringing his attention back to what lay in front of him. Running down the middle of the egg was now a rapidly widening gap. There was no more time for thinking, it was time for a decision. Logan raised the sword over his head as the egg split open, spilling the seven foot dragon onto the ground at his feet.
Its head came to rest on his foot, the slender neck stretched out behind. The sword wavered a bit in the air as the dragon opened its eyes to take in the first sight of this new world.
The scene was terrifying. It scrambled backwards as best it could on unused and unsteady limbs, trying to escape the strange creature poised over it. At the same time, Logan was bombarded with feelings of fear, confusion, and abandonment. It was so overwhelming the sword dropped from his limp hands, clattering to the ground. Where was the hate? The rage? The vengeance? Those feelings, he realized, he could only find within himself.
“It’s alright,” Logan cooed, his empty hands held palms out to the frightened beast.
“How did it feel?” Alain’s voice played back in his head again. “What was it like while you were riding the wind on that dragon’s back?”
“You mean before it tried to kill me?” Logan shot back.
“Well, of course.”
He hadn’t been able to keep the smile from his face as he recalled the flight. “It felt … ,” incredible, exciting, free, “right.” The idea that soaring above the clouds on the back of a monstrous beast could feel natural seemed beyond ridiculous. Yet, he had lived it.
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