“It is not weakness,” his uncle had told him. “To love so deeply is beyond most men. And to find someone who you can truly love with all of your being is a rare gift. They are just envious toads. Don’t pay them any mind.”
When his father finished playing, he laid the flute gently in his lap. There was a faraway look in his eyes.
“What is so special about where we’re going?” Martok asked. “Uncle Sylas said you think it's the most special place in the world. But he wouldn’t tell me why.”
His father waved him over to sit beside him. “As I explained earlier, son, our family is unique. We were the very first to know the dragons. And of all the great mage families, only ours has the privilege of sharing a bond with them. It is a gift from our ancient past. Given to us by the greatest of all our ancestors.”
“Who was he?” Martok asked, wide-eyed.
“Actually, it's a she. And where I'm taking you is the only place in Lumnia where you can meet her.”
Martok's eyes grew even wider. “How can I meet her if she's dead?”
He stroked his son’s hair. “Remember how I told you that once I'm gone, I would be well taken care of. Well, tomorrow you will understand why.”
“Will there be dragons there too?”
Ralmar laughed. “Perhaps. But I don’t think you’ll care too much about that once you meet her.”
It was late into the afternoon when they arrived at their destination. Martok was sure he'd heard the distant roar of a dragon overhead as they set out that morning, and ever since then he'd found himself spending most of his time gazing hopefully up amongst the clouds. Much to his disappointment, clouds were the only sky bound objects he had so far seen.
The path had taken them right to the very edge of a deep chasm. A few yards away from this stood a small cabin. Ralmar led his son inside and set about building a fire in the hearth. The interior was modest, yet quite adequate, and large enough to accommodate four people if necessary.
After finishing a meal, Ralmar regarded Martok across the table. His expression carried a mixture of pride and anxiety.
“What is about to happen can be quite unsettling, son,” he began. “It certainly was for me when my father brought me here. But there is nothing to fear.”
Martok puffed out his chest. “I’m not scared.”
Ralmar laughed. “Neither was I until I met her.”
“Who is she? I mean really?”
“I told you. Heather was the first of our line to bond with the dragons.”
“How can she still be alive?”
His father waved a hand. “All of your questions will be answered soon enough. But before that happens, remember, I would never allow anything to harm you. I would not have brought you here unless I thought you were ready. And when you return, I will be waiting.”
Martok cocked his head. “You’re not coming with me?”
“No. This is your time. You must meet her on your own. As I said before, there is nothing to fear. I promise you that.”
Martok did not want to admit it, but the thought of going on alone was starting to frighten him. Nonetheless, he did his best not to show this.
Ralmar glanced over to the window. The light was fading and night would soon fall. “We should go now,” he said.
He led his son from the cabin and over to a spot where the path continued on down the side of the canyon. Fear gripped Martok as he regarded the scarily narrow trail. More than ever he wanted his father to be with him. Knowing that wasn't going to happen, he stiffened his back and balled his tiny fists.
“I’m ready, father.”
Ralmar nodded and gave his son a loving smile. “I know you are.”
His eyes followed the line of the path. “I had almost forgotten how far down it is.” Having said that, he placed a firm hand on Martok’s shoulder. “Just stay close to the wall. There's plenty of room if you do that.”
Martok gave his father a final look before beginning his descent. He did not enjoy heights very much, and the lack of any sort of railing made the path seem far narrower than it really was. His mother would have been a nervous wreck had she been there to see him. And the look in his father’s eyes just before he set off told him that he was in a similar state of anxiety.
When he finally dared to look down at the canyon floor he saw a circle of pedestals surrounding a raised marble platform. Each pedestal had a faintly glowing rajni stone set at its crown. The rest of the floor was bare, and even in the waning sunlight he could easily see well into the distance. No one was visible. Where was this ancestor hiding?
Upon reaching the bottom he cautiously approached the platform and began walking its circumference. Still he saw no one. Knowing the smooth sides were too high for him to climb up, he looked around for something to stand on. It was a forlorn gesture. He already knew there was nothing at all other than a few small pebbles scattered about.
“Hello?” he called out, his small voice echoing unnaturally loudly from the intimidatingly high canyon walls. “Is anyone here?”
No reply came.
There was only one thing left to try. Looking back to the platform, he took a deep breath and then ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward it, jumping up just before he slammed into the side. It was a determined effort, but he was not quite tall enough. Though his arms had managed to reach the top, he felt himself quickly sliding off again. But just before he fell, what must have been a hand gripped the back of his shirt collar and hefted him all the way up.
Martok got to his feet, eyes darting about in every direction and utter confusion on his face. There was still no one to be seen. How could that be? “This isn’t funny,” he said, trying to sound brave. “Come out.”
“You are an interesting child.”
It was a female voice that seemed to come from inside his own head. It was calm and comforting in a way he had never experienced before. Instantly, all anxiety and fear left him.
“Your father used a spell to help himself up here,” the voice continued. “I’m sure you know enough magic by now. Why didn’t you do the same?”
Martok felt embarrassed. “I…I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think of it. Are you Heather?”
“I am. Please answer my question.”
Martok shrugged. “I don’t use magic very much. Not when I'm away from home at least.”
“And why not?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s because father doesn’t like it when people recognize us as a mage family.”
“Is that right? And why would he not want that?”
“He says that ordinary people act differently when mages are around. He says that because we’ve got special gifts, it’s our duty to look after them. But if we don’t know what they’re really like, we can’t do that properly.”
“Your father is wise…and kind. But I recognized these qualities in him even as a child.”
Martok narrowed his eyes. “Why can’t I see you?”
Heather laughed. “Would you like to?”
“Yes. Very much.”
“Then you shall.”
In a flash of blinding white light, a young woman appeared just a few feet in front of him. Straight, shoulder length auburn hair framed her delicate features perfectly. And, in spite of her youthful beauty, her simple attire gave her a reassuring, motherly quality.
The moment he saw her, Martok felt the tears rising. In no time at all he was weeping uncontrollably. But these were not tears of sorrow. He ran headlong toward the woman, wrapping his small arms around her waist.
Heather held him with tender care. “It’s all right. I’m here,” she whispered.
He wasn't sure how long he remained in her arms. At least several minutes must have passed before he finally stepped away. “It’s…it’s just like when I was with my mother,” he sniffed. “It’s exactly the way I felt before she died.”
Heather knelt down and produced a handkerchief. “I know,” she said gently, drying his tears. “I kn
ow how hard it was for you when she passed. I can see it within you.”
“No one will tell me how she died,” Martok said. “Why won’t they tell me?”
She held his hands. “You are such a brave boy. But there are some things that are too grown up for you to know yet. You must have faith that your father knows what is best for you. When the time is right, I'm sure he’ll tell you what you want to know. Until then, try not to think about it too much.”
Somehow, her words eased his pain. A pain he'd constantly tried to hide from his father. A pain that, until this moment, he thought would never go away. “Are you alive?” he asked.
Heather cocked her head. “Do I look alive to you?”
Martok looked at her closely before nodding. “Yes. And you feel alive too. But father says you lived a very long time ago.”
“That’s right. I did. And my true body passed on many years before you were born. Long before even your great great grandfather was alive.”
“Then how are you here now?”
She took his hand. “Come. I will show you. Then afterwards, you can ask me anything you want. Is that a deal?”
Martok smiled up at her. “Deal.”
* * * * *
When arriving back at the top of the canyon, he found that his father had not returned to the cabin. Instead, he was sleeping on the ground just where the downward path started. Though Martok didn’t know what time it was, given that his father was always an early riser, especially when away from their home, he guessed it must be still several hours before dawn.
The smiling face of Heather lingered in his memory. It was a face he could never forget. Neither would the feelings she'd brought out in him ever fade. Even now he could close his eyes and imagine himself wrapped in her loving embrace. All was well. The painful sorrow of losing his mother was now gone. He no longer worried over how she had died. When his father thought he should know, he would tell him, just as Heather had explained.
As quietly as he could, he sat down beside his father’s sleeping form. It looked like he was having another of his bad dreams. Every few seconds his face twitched and he moaned softly. These dreams happened quite often at home, too. Martok had heard the screams in the night, and seen the scratches on his father’s face the next morning. Naturally, he would have them healed before the house staff could see them. But why did he continue to suffer so much? Heather could help him; Martok was sure of this. She could take away his pain and banish his nightmares if he asked her to. But this would not happen. She had told him so.
“Ralmar loves me,” she had said when he asked if he could go back up and fetch his father. “As do all of my children. But he also fears me. He would not want to come.”
“Why? You’re not scary.”
Heather laughed softly. “Not to you. But you are different.”
“Different how?”
“One day you will see. For now, though, it’s enough for you to be a little boy. Let the troubles of adulthood wait. There will be time enough for them later. Besides, if your father was here, I would not have all of your attention. And right now I do not feel like sharing your love with anyone.”
He ran into her arms. “I love you the most. More than any of your other children.”
“Yes. I know you do.”
Placing this memory aside, Martok touched his father’s arm. “Wake up. I’m back.”
He had barely finished speaking when, in a flurry of motion, Ralmar shot bolt upright. His head immediately darted from side to side and his breaths came in short rapid gulps. Clutched in his right hand was a green ball of energy that sizzled and sparked wildly.
Martok scurried back, eyes wide with fear. “It’s me, father. It’s Martok.”
Only after a tense moment did recognition come to Ralmar’s face. The magical energy vanished. “I…I’m sorry son. I was –”
“Having a bad dream,” Martok said, completing his father’s sentence. “Was it about mother?”
Take no notice of the question, Ralmar reached out and pulled his son close in a firm embrace. “I was so worried about you.”
He waited until his father had released him before speaking. “Why were you worried? I was with Heather. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.”
Ralmar forced a smile. “I know she wouldn’t. But you were gone for so long. I almost came down after you.”
Martok gave him a curious look. “I was only down there for a few hours. It’s not even dawn yet.”
“No. You left here in the evening the day before yesterday,” he said. The tremor in his father's voice told of just how afraid he had been. “I watched you as you climbed up onto the platform. Then, after a few minutes, you disappeared from sight.”
“Disappeared? No, I was there the whole time. Honestly I was. But...well...I suppose it might not have looked like that. Heather used magic to make it seem as if we were in all sorts of wonderful places. It was amazing. I wish you could have been there. But we never really went anywhere. At least, that’s what she told me.”
Ralmar scrutinized his son for a time. A warm smile then formed. “As long as you’re safe, that's all that matters to me.” Pushing himself to his feet, he gathered up his blanket and pillow before heading toward the cabin. “Come. You can tell me all about it in the morning after I've finished sleeping. We still have a long journey ahead.”
“Where are we going next?” asked Martok.
“You wanted to see dragons, didn’t you?” He gave him a wink.
“Yes, I do. But we don’t need to go anywhere to see them. They can come to us.”
Ralmar shook his head. “I’m sorry, Martok. Dragons won’t just appear because you want them to. It doesn’t work that way.” He wrapped his free arm around his son. “But don’t worry. You’ll get to see them. I promise.”
“No, father,” he protested. “They can come here. They really can.”
“Let's talk about it tomorrow, eh,” Ralmar told him. “Right now, I need some more sleep. I’ve barely closed my eyes since you left. So do a weary old man a favor and save your questions about dragons for a few more hours.”
Martok frowned. He didn’t have questions. He had answers. Heather made sure of that. How he loved her. And how he wished his father would love her the same way he did. But then again, no one could love her that much.
The dark circles under his father’s eyes and the slight stagger in his steps banished any further discussion. He truly hadn't realized how much time had passed since first going down the path. But now that he thought about it, he wished it had been even longer.
Inside the cabin, his father was fast asleep only seconds after plopping down on the simple bed. Martok slipped in beside him and snuggled up close. He recalled his uncle telling him that one day he would not see his father in the same way: that he would look upon him as being just like any other man. And when that day arrived, things between them would be changed forever. He didn’t want to believe that. His father was not a man like any other. He was great and wise, and would always be so.
Feeling safe in his father’s arms, Martok began to drift into dreams filled with the magical wonders revealed to him by Heather. His life no longer seemed uncertain. And the thought of his father passing into the realm of spirits no longer troubled him. He knew now that he would dwell in an everlasting paradise with past generations of their family.
When the first light of the morning began peeking in through the window, he could hear that his father was already awake and about. Even when driven to exhaustion, he was still an early riser. Martok, on the other hand, felt content to remain in bed for a while longer.
“I know you’re awake,” Ralmar told him. “Your eyes are cracked open. Get up, lazy bones. We have much ground to cover today.”
Martok stretched and yawned. “Why? I already told you…the dragons will come to us.”
Chuckling loudly at this suggestion, Ralmar retrieved an iron pot filled with steaming hot porridge from the stove. “I guess any
thing is possible. But in case they don’t come, you need to eat. The walk to where the dragons nest is mostly uphill, and I’m not about to carry you this time. You'll need all the energy you can get.”
Martok slid from the bed and sat at the table. He knew his father was only teasing. He had carried him many times before when the terrain became dangerous or the journey was too far for his short legs to keep up. But he wouldn’t need to this time. That was for certain.
After finishing breakfast, they gathered up their things and were on the very point of leaving when a tremendous thud sounded from close by outside. So great was the impact, the entire cabin shook violently for several seconds. Ralmar reacted instantly, shoving his son protectively behind him. At the same time, his entire body glowed with the aura of magic.
“Cast your wards the way I taught you,” he ordered.
Martok simply smiled. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, father. I told you the dragons would come to us.”
Ralmar regarded him with utter confusion. “You can't really believe that.” Nonetheless, he turned back to the door and cracked it open ever so slightly.
“By the spirits,” Martok heard him gasp.
Slowly he opened it fully. Martok was quickly at his side.
Standing just near the edge of the canyon was an absolutely enormous dragon. Its bright violet scales, caught in the reflection of the morning sun, sparkled as though made from a thousand precious gems. The pure white horns atop its massive head were worn like a crown denoting it as being the king of all beasts and the ultimate authority in power. With silver eyes staring unblinkingly at father and son, it blew out small gusts of steaming hot breath.
Dragonvein Book Four Page 6
