Key of Living Fire (The Sword of the Dragon)

by Appleton, Scott

  Smiling up at him with her gold-blue eyes, Oganna pulled him gently toward the house. Ah, she had grown up. How long had it been since she giggled in her crib?

  “Ooh yum! Now that’s an apple tart to smack my lips to,” Ombre’s voice said from the kitchen. He slapped something and Evela laughed.

  Ilfedo stepped through the doorway and closed the door behind him. He slipped his cloak off his back, then handed it to Oganna. She ran to the pegs on the far side of the main room whilst he took in the warmth of home. This place had turned out exactly as he’d planned it those many years ago. And now, even with her gone, the Creator had seen fit to fill Ilfedo’s home with the laughter of true friends and a special offspring.

  The dragon ring bit his finger with a burning sensation. He stared at the ring, and the dragon thereon growled up at him.

  “Father, what is that?” Oganna stepped close with her brow furrowed.

  Ombre frowned and crossed his arms, eyeing the strange jewelry.

  But Caritha and her sisters sighed in unison. “It is a gift from the prophets, Oganna. It is a ring given to someone who must undertake a task within a certain time frame.”

  Ilfedo glanced at the woman and held forth his hand. “You have seen this before?”

  “Yes, though never have I seen it used.” Caritha stroked the white-gold dragon with her finger, and it stretched contentedly. “It is said a dragon ring will constrict itself around the bearer’s finger until that bearer nears his journey’s destination. It cannot be removed by force, and it will only relax its hold as its bearer fulfills his task.”

  Oganna frowned. “Father, what task?”

  Resting his hand on her shoulder, he sighed. “Dinner before questions, if you will, my daughter.”

  Late that night, after a satisfying supper, Ilfedo opened his root cellar and brought out a mug of apple cider. Everyone sat around the fireplace, exchanging memories and laughing at Rose’el and Ombre’s occasional jests. Caritha situated herself next to Ombre and rose often to bring him cheese, cakes, and cider. Never had Ilfedo seen her more radiant. Ombre’s arm slipped around her shoulders, and she turned to flash a smile at him.

  Ilfedo took his daughter’s soft hand and kissed it. Smiling into her blue-gold eyes, he felt the days to come rise within them, as if the future were a sunrise reflected in her soul.

  Seivar waddled between Evela and Levena. He hopped onto the hearth and stretched out his wing. His beak combed each long white feather with great care. Soon Hasselpatch joined him. The birds snuggled and closed their eyes. But Seivar blinked at Ilfedo. “It is good to have you home again, master.”

  Ilfedo nodded at the faithful creature, smiling.

  Slithering out of the kitchen, Oganna’s viper companion hissed out apologies as it slid across several sisters’ feet. It stretched around the birds and closed its eyes. But Seivar raised his head and aimed his silver beak at the creature. For a moment the viper seemed not to notice, then, inch by inch, it slithered off to its own spot, closer to the fire, and coiled there. Its forked tongue slicked in and out as it fell asleep, and Seivar relaxed, closing his silvery eyes. “Despicable winged creaturesss,” the viper hissed.

  Oganna stifled a yawn and stood, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder. “So, Father, have you nothing to say of your trip?”

  He set down his mug. “My trip?”

  “Yes.” She smiled, picked up his mug, and brought it to the kitchen. As she picked up a jug and poured cider into his mug, she held his gaze with curious eyes. “You know . . . where did you go, who did you see, what did you do?”

  He blinked his heavy eyelids. “Ah, that.” As she held up her skirt, stepped over Rose’el’s legs, and handed him the mug, he rested his head against the fireplace. Ombre and the sisters hushed their conversations and looked at him. “I suppose now is a good time to tell you, though I had hoped we’d hold off the serious conversation for tomorrow. I need rest.”

  “Then rest he will, ladies.” Ombre stood, and before Ilfedo could so much as blink, his friend grunted and picked him up.

  “Ombre! Set me down immediately.”

  “No, my friend. You are right. Rest you need and rest you deserve.” Ombre flashed a smile at the women. “Ladies, if you don’t mind lending my tired arms some assistance, we shall carry our lord and master to his chamber and lay him down to sleep.”

  Rose’el laughed and rose, wrapping her arms under Ilfedo’s armpits and around his chest while Ombre held his legs. “Do not struggle, brother. You are outnumbered in this battle,” the sister said.

  The remaining sisters, as well as Oganna, followed with gentle smiles as his friend and sister lugged him up the stairs and dropped him, without ceremony, on the bed. Caritha bowed and wished him a good night’s rest. Ombre turned to follow her down the stairwell, but Ilfedo sprang from the bed and grabbed him from behind. In one swift move he lifted his friend off the floor and flipped him upside down, dangling him by his ankles and chuckling.

  Ombre laughed and crossed his arms. Evela, Laura, and Levena patted his cheeks. “Good night!” They proceeded down the stairs, and Rose’el skirted the wall, making as if to go behind. Dropping his friend, Ilfedo jumped toward the tallest sister. She let out a bloodcurdling yell and burst down the stairs, pushing her sisters to the side. Rubbing his head, Ombre stood and backed toward the stairwell, holding up his hand. “You win! You win.” And he, too, left the room.

  Oganna’s sweet laughter filled the room as he sat on the bed. They embraced, and he held her head to his chest, stroking her hair. Downstairs he could hear someone roasting corn kernels over the fire. As the kernels popped, Caritha and Ombre chatted about an early morning beach walk they had shared on their recent trip.

  Oganna pulled away, stood, and kissed his cheek. “Sleep well, Father. I will see you in the morning.” She rose and blew out the lamp at his bedside.

  As darkness flooded in, the fluttering of Nuvitors’ wings sounded in the stairwell. Seivar and Hasselpatch landed under each of his arms, and he closed his eyes.

  “I love you,” Oganna said as she tiptoed toward the stairs.

  He exhaled and whispered back, “And I love you. Sleep well. I will speak with everyone in the morning.”

  “And I’ll make you breakfast.”

  “Ah.” He smiled in the dark. “That, I would like very much.” He raised himself on his elbows and opened his eyes. The Nuvitors stirred. “Do we have any smoked pork?”

  Oganna laughed softly. “Aunt Laura saw to it last time she went to market. Now please go to sleep, Father. You really do need to rest.” And her bare feet padded down the stairs.

  Ilfedo settled his head back on his pillow. Rest. Yes, rest before my next journey begins.

  In his dreams that night, the shepherd and the albino dragon circled him. Flames and smoke roiled around him . . . and the sword of the dragon blazed in his hands. His armor of Living Fire radiated pure white light that drove back the smoke and pushed away the shepherd and the mighty dragon. Beneath his feet was desert sand, while before him rose a mountain of stone.

  From the mountain’s peak a woman fell. She rolled down the mountain’s face and landed at his feet. He knelt and raised her chin. Her face was young and beautiful, her hair and eyes dark. But cuts and bruises marred her skin. She pulled back her arm and smote him in the stomach. He fell over her, and she rose with a laugh, running her fingers along his blade as it slipped from his grip. The Living Fire hissed as if quenched, steam rose from the blade, and she walked off into a wall of flames.

  In the morning Ilfedo dispelled the dream from his mind. Only God knew the future. The dream? Well, it was only that—a dream.

  The dragon ring bit his finger as he dressed. He glanced at his hand, then stared at his now-purple finger. The ring had tightened around him while he slept and now cut off all circulation. The little dragon flicked its tail and bit him. He grimaced.

  The hammock swung gently as it cradled Oganna in front of the morning fire. She
watched the tongues of fire as they licked at the seasoned oak logs and spread soft light throughout the room. Below her, curled on the hearth, the viper slicked out its tongue and rolled its eyes as its skin absorbed the warmth.

  The Nuvitors flew over her and landed on the mantle above the fireplace, their white feathers flapping brightly. “The table is set,” the female bird announced. She spread out her left wing and began to preen its feathers.

  Oganna rotated on her back and leaned on her other elbow so that she could look at the long wood table. A basket of fresh-picked fruit made up the centerpiece, and she had cooked the smoked pork, a wild duck, and a chicken to complement her bowl of garden salad. Besides this she had set out boiled corn on the cob, and on the kitchen counter were three pumpkin pies. She rarely made this much food for supper and had never before for breakfast. The smell of all that good food just waiting to be eaten had been driving her stomach crazy for the past hour. It had taken her most of three hours to prepare this feast.

  As the Nuvitor had said, the table was set. “It is getting late. Perhaps we should wake him.”

  “Nonsense!” the bird replied. “He slept heavily last night. He was exhausted. Just be patient. He’ll come.” She flitted from her perch and landed in the hammock beside Oganna.

  Oganna cuddled the soft creature. She reached up and stroked her own face. It still amazed her beyond belief that the dragon had been able to heal her so completely after the giant had mauled her. She shuddered as she remembered how Razes’s blades had dug into her flesh.

  Her stomach rumbled noisily, and she swung her legs over the side of the hammock and set her bare feet on the warm wood slabs. That food was looking more and more tempting each time she glanced at it. And the smell of those pies . . . Mmm hmm! If she weren’t a princess she would smack her lips.

  The male Nuvitor dropped to the floor, preening his feathers as he stepped around the pole that supported the hammock and cocked his head at her. “I’d give Master no more than another ten minutes. If we wait all morning, the food will get cold.”

  “Psst!” The viper uncoiled and slithered between her legs, then raised its head with a disdainful air. “We will eat when Mistresss says we do. Psst! Don’t put your feathers in a ruffle for nothing!”

  “Shush,” Oganna scolded. “There’s no need for this bickering. Just sit back and relax.” She glanced at the small carved wooden clock hung on the far wall.

  Ever since the viper had become a permanent member of their family, it had rubbed its bird friends the wrong way. With its cocky nature and unflinching loyalty, the creature had both wheedled its way into her affections and earned her most stabbing rebukes. Her father had seemed to accept the creature with a lot of reservation. It didn’t like him and he didn’t like it. And it had an annoying tendency to intrude on others’ conversations.

  She stood and walked to the fireplace. The fire was burning lower now. She grabbed a poker and stirred the coals before laying several more logs on the fire. “Want to come outside with me?” she asked the female Nuvitor as its mate and the serpent began another argument.

  It flew to her outstretched arm and held its wings out to maintain balance. For its size the bird was quite light, no heavier than the viper. “Thank you, Mistress, I did not want to listen to those two go at it again.”

  Oganna laughed. “I know what you mean.” She opened the door and walked out into the brisk morning air. Warm orange rays bathed the eastern sky.

  A pile of neatly stacked, split logs lay to her right against the house. The Nuvitor leaped onto the woodpile while Oganna crooked her left arm and collected the wood into it with her right. When she turned to go back into the house, she almost ran into Ilfedo as he held open the door.

  “Mmm! Something smells delicious.” He took the wood from her arms and kissed her forehead.

  “Good morning, Father.” She entered the house and Neneila hissed, “Psst! See?” The viper slicked its tongue at Seivar. “He’s here.”

  But the bird flew to its master’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you rested,” it told him.

  “It had been a long time, my friend. Too long.” He stroked the bird’s chest and let it lean against his head. Then he gazed upon the table and let out a long, low whistle. “Oganna, you’ve prepared a feast.”

  The ring on his right hand flashed as it passed through the lamplight and she eyed the white-gold dragon. The jeweled eyes, a rich purple, appeared focused on her father. Its wings enclosed around his finger, and its tail curled over it.

  She caught him staring at her, a stony rebuttal of her curiosity. “Sorry, my dear, I will tell you shortly.”

  There was a new look in his eyes—a glint of mystery, enfolding him in a mantle of silence.

  “Who gave that to you?”

  “A dragon with whom you are also acquainted.”

  “Grandfather?” She grabbed his arm and eagerly waited for him to elaborate.

  But he did not.

  Oganna sat at the table and waited as her father and companions followed her example. The Nuvitors stood on the bench on either side of Ilfedo while the viper coiled next to Oganna and raised its head above the table so as to be within reach of its plate. Just as she prepared to portion out the food, Ombre and Caritha came in with Laura, Rose’el, Evela, and Levena in tow.

  “Good morning!”

  Rose’el pinched his cheek. “Good to see Sleeping Handsome awake!”

  He slapped her hand away with a laugh. “Enough, my friends.” Ilfedo smiled at Oganna. “I’m afraid that while this meal looks absolutely fabulous, it is a bit heavy for me. Would you mind poaching some eggs?”

  She laughed. “I am not insulted.” She kissed his cheek and walked into the kitchen, holding up three eggs. “Would you like them cooked through, or do you want the yolk runny?”

  Dressing in clean pants and a tan shirt, Ilfedo then walked downstairs. As promised, Oganna had everything prepared. After stuffing himself with eggs and jelly-smattered toast, not to mention the warm chatter of the sisters and Ombre, he walked outside. Everyone soon followed, seating themselves on the stone wall around the patio.

  Ilfedo sat on the bench under the window, and Oganna settled beside him. He put his arm around her and wondered where to start his tale. Ombre and Caritha already knew the latter half, that which concerned the shepherd and the dragon’s appearance the night before. But concerning the other matter . . .

  “Ilfedo?” Caritha leaned forward. “What is the matter? You seem highly preoccupied. Is it—that?” She cast a glance at the dragon ring.

  He sighed and looked in Ombre’s direction. With a wave of his hand, he said, “I would very much like to hear about your trip before I launch into the details of my own.”

  “There is not a great deal of news from the coast. At least, little you don’t know already.” Ombre plucked a blade of grass and twirled it in his fingers. “The recent construction of Fort Gabel is progressing well. The outer walls have been raised. Unlike our previous military projects, Fort Gabel is built of stone—”

  “Stone. I like that. It is fitting.” Oganna folded her hands in her lap and gazed eastward. Beyond the line of trees and the forest, over the rolling hills of the Hemmed Land, down on the flatland stretching to the sea, the fort was even now being built. And its name came from none other than her valiant defender and martyr, the giant king of Burloi.

  “Anyhow,” Ombre said, “the fort is nearing completion. But the artisans from Gwensin are pushing to build a cylindrical keep. They say if there were an invasion, the fort walls could be destroyed, but a cylindrical keep would present an imposing and impenetrable barrier. Of course, I pointed out that such a thing would be a waste of resources and time. We have no neighboring countries, unless you count our allies the Megatraths.”

  Ilfedo nodded. “The proposal of such a thing doesn’t surprise me. Vortain sent those artisans. Granted, the city of Gwensin is a marvel in our society; it is beautiful and thriving, but I think in the case
of Fort Gabel we should aim for practicality, not grandeur.” With a frown, Oganna directed her gaze at him. “Do you disagree?” he asked her.

  “Yes, Father, I do. This fortress represents strength and security to our people on the coast. The artisans’ request may sound extravagant, but creating a beautiful structure instead of an ugly imposition would greatly benefit that region.” She pointed eastward at the forest. “Imagine that a fort were built within sight of our home. Imagine that you are one of the people, an ordinary citizen. You have no say in the matter. The forest is hewn down, the wildlife flees, and in place of that beauty walls of cold gray stone are raised and a military garrison moves in. But what if, instead, the lord of the land sends the finest craftsmen to build a majestic structure, a monument to commemorate a fallen hero?”

  He allowed himself to smile. “It sounds as if you might be personally interested in seeing this task through.”

  “Oh, I am no expert in architecture; you know that!”

  “No.” He leaned back and gazed around at the sisters and Ombre, then he pointed at his daughter. “Look at her. The future queen—that is what the people vow they will call her—she is graceful yet forceful in her opinion.” He clasped his hand to his chest. “My subjects, men like Vortain, will sometimes oppose me . . . but to her everyone will bend the knee, and willingly.” A bird twittered in the trees, and he glanced upward. A caressing breeze gifted him the scent of roses and dew. “Oganna, I could send you to Fort Gabel. You could do as you wish in this matter. Indeed, knowing that you are occupied in such a manner will help clear my head for another matter.”

  Ombre winked at Oganna, and Caritha caught her eye, giving her an encouraging nod.