The king gave half a chuckle, ‘The Journeyman said you were a people of scepticism. I cannot deny your statement, but you cannot deny mine either.’ He grinned from ear-to-ear before coughing.
‘So did they breathe fire?’ Hanniver joked.
‘Why would they do that?’ the Venra pulled a face at the Brigadier.
‘Is it true your home world never had dragons?’ the monk finally spoke, causing a slightly awkward pause amongst the two Earthmen.
‘We have legends, but no there is no evidence to support them.’
‘Your legends say they breathed fire?’
‘In the west they did. In the east they were the opposite; there they controlled rain and water,’ Hanniver answered.
‘Ethus is of fire,’ the Venra tried to reason. ‘It is his very being, and Matorious is the god of the oceans; a great serpent. Maybe your legends are them, maybe they can move between worlds.’
‘But Ethus is wingless isn’t he?’ Hanniver asked.
‘The three Guardians are all wingless, only Ominiue is whole, and the mortal dragons made in his image.’
‘Western Dragons had wings so I don’t think they can be the same. They were just stories to frighten people. Perhaps they found dinosaur bones and speculated over them?’
‘Do you have any bones?’ Shayne suddenly inquired.
‘Dragon bones?’ the Venra asked with a look of disapproval on her face.
‘Yes, if dragons flew then dragons must have died, surely there would be other remains.’
‘The dragon and their rider were people onto themselves, Afra’hama,’ the king replied. ‘When a dragon fell the others took them to the mountains. There they were laid to rest and those that knew their end was upon them flew to the mountains to die.’
‘So there are graveyards?’
‘One would assume, but how would we get there? Only those who could fly could make it. I guess you could with your machines but they are sacred places Afra’hama. Would you ask us to dig up our tombs for your own curiosity?’
‘I am sorry, we would not,’ Shayne bowed his head in apology. ‘We did not know.’ The UeVarda accepted the statement with a smile. Hanniver began to ask several questions about dragon lore while they answered the best they could. All their knowledge came from ancient texts and though they truly believed what they were saying they had no proof other than insubstantial claims.
Shayne stared at the egg for a while, contemplating its interior and its fate. His eyes glazed over as he looked upon its surface. The conversation between the others drowned out by his own thoughts.
‘How come none came back?’ he half asked himself. Hanniver stopped midsentence and stared stupidly at Shayne.
‘What?’ he asked.
Shayne returned to the king’s seat. He looked upon them all, his gaze lingered on Níurthan, ‘How come not a single dragon returned? Not one, not even to say the battle had ended.’
‘Because they died,’ the Venra answered.
‘And defeated their enemies?’ Shayne’s voice was tinged with scepticism. ‘That does not make sense. If they won as you believe then they would have returned. Someone would have returned, but no one, not a single soul. Why?’ The monk gazed at Shayne. A small smile printed upon his face.
‘Shayne,’ Hanniver said, a little worried, his eyes flickered over the natives as he hesitated. ‘They’re just stories.’
‘You are from the southern continent,’ Shayne addressed the monk. ‘What do your people say about the dragons?’
The monk’s head twisted as he gazed at the Starborn; his smile still present, ‘I do not come from that nation. Stories reached my people from the Great War, but no details and the city was razed so few remained to tell the tale.’
‘So they did destroy the city?’
‘It was abandoned afterward. Its foundations still stand; visited only by the desert winds and wild animals.’
‘Then something must have happened afterwards.’
‘How do you conclude that?’
‘If they were powerful enough to raze an entire city to the ground, then their campaign was successful. Humans — and dragons had to have survived to pull it down. If they never returned then something must have attacked them after the war.’
‘What?’ The UeVarda’s eyes were now large with interest.
‘Perhaps they were rewarded by the Kéaran,’ the Venra answered, ‘and given a place in the heavens and the Afradians joined them.’
‘I agree with the Afra’hama,’ the UeVarda answered. ‘The dragons had to have faced something afterwards.’
The UeVarda’s attention shifted when the monk raised his arm to his chest and held his hand so three fingers pointed out in the native gesture for time.
The UeVarda sighed. They exchanged a few more words with the Earthmen before he sat himself up; he wheezed a bit but managed to smile and say, ‘The hour draws near. Níurthan informs me you should leave for the Teaching Halls soon,’ the monk shifted slightly in acknowledgement.
The king’s mouth twisted into an amused grin, ‘I hear you had a following yesterday when you visited the temple,’ an amused glint flickered in his eye. ‘You have had a taste of what it is like to be in my world, but lucky for you I also know how to move around that. Níurthan!’ the monk instantly stood forward and handed a black bundle to each Earthman, including the droid. Hanniver unfolded his to reveal a Kerwin monk’s robe. The king smiled broadly; there was a deep look in his expression.
‘Put them on now and walk out as The Order. Our people will be too afraid to look at you let alone talk to you.’ Hanniver and Shayne both formally bowed and then proceeded to cover themselves while Hanniver instructed the droid to do the same.
‘You look stunningly ordinary,’ the UeVarda laughed after they were clad, ‘though the metal man shines and the Brigadier Christov looks strange with no beard. You should probably look at your feet as you go by and also stoop more; you are too tall for an ordinary Ta’Orian,’ the UeVarda then waved his hand. Hanniver turned his head to look up at Níurthan; the comment seemed a contradiction as the monk was taller than himself and was also beardless. The only thing he could guess was that local identity meant the monk was well known and therefore the public was used to seeing his tall southern frame. Two tall humans side-by-side on the other hand would look strange and draw attention.
‘You should not keep the UeShádarns waiting. May the blessings of the Kéaran fall upon you.’ They all formally bowed again and left the room.
As they walked briskly up the hallway, trying to keep up with the swift monk Shayne spoke, ‘You can see our shoes as we walk.’ They all looked down at the shine of the polished military boots and the glint from the robots.
‘Get a little mud on them and no one will notice,’ Níurthan simply said. He did not say another word until they were outside the palace and at the gates. The guards motioned them forward and the Earthmen kept their hoods well over their faces and their heads down.
‘Níurthan of the Kerwin and three apprentices of Showl,’ the monk informed. One of the guards looked up at the Earthmen; recognising who they were. She then proceeded to note them down in a ledger. Only those who handled the books and those who were carefully watching knew that any apprentice of Showl was someone who left the palace without first signing in.
There were broken clouds drifting over the city and as they walked along the road to the teaching halls a rather nasty dark one loomed directly above, hiding the top of the tower. It looked as if it would open up and rain down upon them, but it held off. The clouds moved quickly overhead, with brief moments of sunshine followed by more cloud. Looking westwards where the weather front was guided by the Beldon Mountains they could see that it was almost completely clear, with only a few threatening groups of cloud between them.
The colder weather meant that most people stayed away from the strip of gardens between the palace and the city, they hurried to their destinations and stayed inside if they could h
elp it, so when no one was watching they scuffed their shoes in muddy puddles along the way, removing any shine from their feet and the metal plating of the robot. After they were satisfied they walked more carelessly, keeping their heads down in a manner that was typical of The Order.
They passed the walls and gates of the college: they were by no means defensive; it was more to separate their buildings from the upper-karmon district. Behind the walls were also other specialised structures. The Order monastery was situated amongst the guild halls, with their temple joined to the city barracks becoming part of the wall itself, their building held access to a shared training area with the shytarda as well as their own facilities. The two factions backed up against the Island defensive perimeter, between the college and fishing bay.
The rest of the Teaching Halls were divided into two social areas, the open buildings nearest the walls were for guilds such as the smitheries and masons. The various guild buildings lead up the steep incline to the foot of the tower were the old Teaching Halls rested. The buildings were carved into the solid rock face of the mountain tower and that was where the high academics dwelt, where Kíe was raised and where he learnt everything he knew. The greatest treasure was their library, filled with the most precious and oldest manuscripts; housed deep in the mountainside where it was dark and dry, delaying their eventual decay. Copies of these precious and rare items were available to the public and students; housed in the common library; situated closest to the cliff face and with windows to allow natural light through. The halls were many stories high. Balconies and windows stretched up like spirals of ant hills in otherwise untouched stone. Shayne wondered how close to the tower’s foundation they dug, whether future work would compromise the tower’s stability. He suspected from what he saw that they were nowhere near, but he did not know how deep the tunnels ran either. If both teaching hall and the wizards’ tower co-existed in the days of its glory, then there would probably be tunnels to connect the two. The towers, as they stood today, were blocked off. No one was allowed to set foot in them. Even the citadel guards only roamed the tower gardens, never passing beyond the doors, forever waiting the return of the sorcerers of old.
A lichen covered dragon statue was at the lower end near the gates that separated the halls from the city. It peered up into the sky almost mournful and between its front legs stood a warrior also looking out at the sky; at the statue’s base was a stone monument, curved around the dragon in a semi-circle with writing etched into it.
‘The last dragon.’ The monk responded to their glances as they walked around the sad stone creature and started climbing the steep road to the Teachers Halls. ‘Legend says it was the only surviving hatchling. The last survivor. It lived here in the halls and there it died. A wretched creature that would have been better off never existing.’
‘And the man?’ Hanniver asked.
‘Another wretched creature. Also the last of his own kind. That was Malakie, son of Marakite, of the Afradians, it is said he took pity on the dragon and slayed it, but there was no one to do the same to him so he returned to the Wayel-Éaa forest to await his fate.’ The main entrance of the halls had two giant pillars, which were carved out of the dark mountain stone; like the ancient Earth city of Petra but on a much grander scale. Panels above the doors revealed an ancient battle with warriors on horses and dragons, and wizards casting spells.
Níurthan took them through the building and into the darkness beyond. Oil lamps were fitted to the walls; lighting the main hallways. There were many doors to various rooms and stairwells that rose above and below them, reaching into the depths of the mountain side. The actual extent of the cave-rooms was unfathomable to the casual passer-by, with many of them forgotten. They took a stairwell up many flights; an exercise that took the breath from them, though the monk’s breathing remained perfectly even. All the way up the walls were carved with artwork, most of which were in the form of circles and swirls; rising up with them.
‘They look like particle trails,’ Shayne observed, running his fingers over one of the curves. The monk gave them a brief glance but made no reply. They came into a decorated hall, it was not grand in size, but it was deep in design. The room was carved directly out of the stone as all the rooms were, with the windows fitted with stained panes so that when the sun shone a golden light flooded the room. At the end of the hall held a raised platform, for a speaker or teacher to talk from. Behind it was a complex Kérith-Árim dragon banner that spanned the width of the room.
All three UeShádarn’s and Pan’arden were there, plus a couple of other senior masters. They all stopped speaking and turned to the cloaked figures. Pan’arden wore her armour, but she had since polished it. The three masters had their formal long shawls on; the scholar blue cloaks were embroidered with intricate patterns made from silver thread and held different patterns showing their areas of mastery.
‘Welcome, Afra’hama,’ Dun’karter greeted with a bow. Kreadark sat by his feet; it gave half a purr and half a meow in greeting. The black cat looked small and vulnerable next to the great tiger Thyman, but they both sat close to each other as if old friends.
‘You may remove your cloaks now,’ Níurthan’s soft voice rang through the room. They took their disguises off, carefully placing them upon a side table near the entrance.
Pan’arden grasped the Earthmen on the shoulders in the motion of friendship, first Shayne and then Hanniver. She smiled fondly at both of them. ‘It is good to see you again.’ Thyman also seemed to grin up at them; his yellow eyes gleamed with joy. Shayne looked carefully at the two since learning the true meaning of Maltat. They did appear as one person and he wondered why he was unable to connect them sooner, but what rational man could ever conceive such a thing? He still did not know if he believed it, if not for his dreams of the man they called Anótole he would dismiss it, but now he was not sure of anything.
‘Tayos’darka,’ Dun’karter called out to the young lionman under-master. ‘Go and find Kíe, but take your time,’ the old lionman had a sly look as he said this. Tayos’darka bowed formally before leaving the room.
‘Hama’ Ta’Orian’s,’ Dun’karter returned. ‘May I introduce the third UeShádarn of the Teaching Halls, Day’kídan,’ the small human bowed to them. Tal’dorfin also motioned two other scholars, who both took a step closer.
‘And here we have our clearest and fastest scribes,’ she turned to a female lionman and human. One wore the under-master’s robes and the other wore the full rank.
‘If you wish to start now I can take you to the palace,’ Hanniver replied.
‘We will discuss that afterwards,’ Tal’dorfin nodded and acknowledged. ‘They can both return to the palace with you and write in their own time.’
‘But we do have other business to discuss before the young journeyman arrives,’ Dun’karter seriously indicated. ‘A few others will probably join us in that time as well. Tayos’darka was the beacon.’ His smile broadened. Dun’karter indicated some seats by the windows of the building. They all moved over to them, any formal approach now dropped; except for Níurthan who remained standing. Day’kídan opened one of the glass panes; letting in warm sunlight. Only the occasional cloud passed over them now and people were beginning to venture out again.
It was a good view of the city, closer than the Palace and higher up. Shayne peered down at the people below; he could see the training areas for The Order and the city shytarda. There were half a dozen members of The Order practicing the moves of some form of martial arts; they shifted in unison with increasingly complex movements. He also saw the orderly layout of the guards’ quarters which backed upon a fighting arena they could not see beforehand. The stadium was half sunken into the ground, with stands for seating and a square dirt centre; wooden pillars of various lengths were scattered on the arena floor, some had ledgers and platforms made for more dangerous duelling.
‘The Journeyman has come to us with a proposition, and he makes a good argument,’ Dun’kart
er sat down, his large black cat jumped up onto his lap. Shayne took his attention from the city below and concentrated on the conversation at hand. ‘He states that you seek ambassadors.’
‘That is correct,’ Shayne replied. ‘Standard procedure is at least five for each planet, ideally though we like representatives from all major cultures and five rarely covers that need.’
‘The journeyman wishes to train to become one,’
‘I did offer the position to him,’ Shayne concurred. ‘The Brigadier and I think he has the potential.’
‘And his mind seems to be set,’ Day’kídan added. A few people started to trickle into the room; mostly young, between apprentices and training masters, but some older ones also entered: fully trained masters and teachers.
‘It does not mean he will be selected,’ Shayne added. ‘It would be like any other school, where some will continue and others will not. Regardless of outcomes what we teach him will be of use and he will benefit.’
‘There is a small problem with us granting the request,’ Dun’karter began to pat his cat, which stretched out with pleasure. ‘He still has four years of his journeyman-ship’
‘We are aware of his obligations.’
‘And the places selected for your city are too far away for him to continue that obligation, but he has informed us that he can continue his work with your people.’
‘That’s correct,’ Hanniver said. ‘He has much he could teach our people, and many will be glad to learn.’
‘I would not think your people would need teaching from us,’ Tal’dorfin mused.
‘Depends on what you mean by teaching. We know nothing about your way of life: your politics, your religion and your history. There are many things we need to learn,’ Tal’dorfin was pleased to hear these words from the Earthman.
‘Understanding forges great friendships,’ she agreed.
‘So if we give the journeyman’s services to you then you will return those services by means of educating him for ambassadorship?’
The Book of Ominiue: Starborn Page 29
