by B C Penling
The man smiled. “Your soul was probably shouting it earlier, too.”
“What does it mean, though?” Zen rolled his eyes a little.
“I flew.”
“Solaidva,” Zen said. He smiled. “Yes, I did say something like that.”
“I knew you would.” The man sat on a stool beside a tree that had thousands of tiny red fruits dotted throughout its purple glowing leaves. “A dragon needs to fly.”
Zen looked at the man. His rugged face, with ridges and wrinkles etched across it, was well-seasoned. His eyes, as the clearest noonday sky, were bright and kind. Perhaps he had been fairly rotten toward the old man.
Zen looked down at the ground and then back up at him. He opened his mouth to apologize for the way he treated him when they first met.
“There’s no need,” he said.
“What?” Zen said sharply.
“There’s no need.”
“For what?” Zen asked.
“To apologize,” the man said.
“How’d you…”
“Know?” the man finished Zen’s question.
Zen blinked irritably. “Yes…”
“Well, by now you’ve realized that the turn of events, of me encouraging us to come in this direction with the dwarfs, that you’ve been restored to full health and ability. The whole time we’ve known each other, you’ve been more ignorant than kind.”
“Rude, more like,” Zen agreed. “I was extremely…”
“Upset that you lost your friend,” the man finished Zen’s sentence. “I understand. She was taken quite suddenly and even I wouldn’t be even-tempered had it happened to mine.”
Zen furrowed his brow and scowled at his talons.
“I find your mind extremely fascinating. I haven’t had the opportunity to fully explore the complexity of feelings that a dragon has. I’ve always managed my time elsewhere. There’s a lot of depth to that seemingly hollow head of yours.”
Zen smirked, snorted, and looked up at the old man with one brow scrunched low. “I hope that’s a compliment, or borderline compliment, or at least aimed at being a positive comment.”
“No, that wasn’t a compliment.” The man shook his head. “I’d consider it more like a thank you. In all my years alive I haven’t had the leisure to study the intricacy of a dragon’s feelings. I find it all rather interesting. It’d match humans if it weren’t for the primal, fiery, crematory rage that burned within.”
“Humans have that, too,” Zen said in mocked defensiveness.
The man raised his brows. “I’ve never seen a human melt flesh from bones with their flaming-death breath. Have you?”
“You have a point there.”
“I will admit that it was impressive to see,” he added. “I’ve never seen fire that hot.”
“The wyverns called it fahvga. It’s a word in their old language that has something to do with fire,” Zen said.
“It has everything to do with fire,” the man said. “It means fire.”
“They wouldn’t teach me that language. How is it that you know?” Zen asked, skeptical.
“I’ve had a lot of time to do many things,” the man said. “I happen to love languages. Their language, Masuchin as they call it, is very old.”
“It doesn’t seem that old to me,” Zen said. “All of Dagan hasn’t been around for very long. The lifespan of dragons and wyverns are extensive. There aren’t many generations between now and when the world was created by Magnen. How can a language fall from usage in such a vain, secluded society?”
“They made a deal with Magnen to forget it,” the man said.
“Why would they do that?”
“To erase a piece of their history. To erase memories of the evil deeds done by others so they wouldn’t be revived here.”
Zen stared at him confusedly. “That happened quickly, though. Dagan isn’t that old. The history of this world has been documented well by the wyverns.”
“They left out more than you know.”
“I’m sure there’s a little left out since you can’t write everything, I’ll agree to that,” Zen said. "Plus, I've discovered a number of discrepancies since meeting Lana."
“I’m not talking about the fine details missing here and there,” the man said. “I’m talking about the real history to their origin; their creation and where they came from.”
“Magnen brought them to Dagan, from a caldera. It said it in my history book,” Zen said.
“Brought from where?” The man cocked his head and stared.
Zen opened his mouth to reply but then closed it. He thought for a moment, recalling a lot of his schooling, before reiterating what he had just said. “Every book I have ever read, ever lesson I was ever taught, everything said that wyverns were brought from a caldera to Dagan. They were made like the dwarfs, the dragons, and everything else.”
“No, sorry,” the man replied. “What you think you know is wrong. Take it from someone who’s been around long before all that.”
Zen stared at him.
The man chuckled for a moment before saying, “The look on your face. Yes, I’m that old. Older than Magnen in fact.”
“Are you senile? I really want to know.”
“No, just really old.”
“In wyvern society senility and old age complement each other.”
“You’re knowledgeable on what you were taught, dragon,” the man replied. “Much of that information is correct but a lot of it is not. Your history lessons said they were brought here. So, I ask you where they were brought from.”
“Other than what I said, I don’t know,” Zen said. “Do you?”
“Let me ask you this to put it into perspective,” the old man said. “Would Magnen, in all his goodness, ever willingly create something as foul as the Warisai? Would you?”
“No, I don’t think he would nor would I. But, I still don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”
“Wyverns weren’t made by Magnen. Magnen brought them here. They’re older than this world. Not only them, I’ll add, but others as well. The Warisai belong on that list and quite accidentally so.”
“I’ve never heard anything like this before,” Zen said dubiously. “If they were brought to Dagan, then where did they come from?”
“From another world similar to our own,” the man said.
“I don’t believe that,” Zen said straightforward.
The man chuckled. “You do know why the dwarfs call me Muzh U Kijo. It means Man of Time in lenolden. I’ve been around longer than this world was created and before the spark of creation ignited the heavens. I am Time.”
Zen blinked slowly. “So, what you’re saying is that,” Zen paused. He grinned skeptically. “You’re older than dirt?”
The old man gave him a curt smile. “I guess you can say that.”
Zen smirked and nodded. “And,” Zen continued, skepticism returned to his voice. “You said the Warisai come from another world. I have a hard time believing that.”
“Do you think Magnen would’ve spawned the Warisai willingly?” Muzh U Kijo said smoothly. “Of course he wouldn’t have. He sealed the caldera to keep them from coming to Dagan; trapping them between our world and the world they came from. Eventually, the Rules of the Worlds were broken, just like Magnen said they would be. That event weakened the Keystones of Dagan and the caldera split, allowing them to enter Dagan. You see, they were sinful dragons with evil threads woven in their hearts from the days when knights butchered dragons for nobility. These dragons, the Hateful, were not allowed entry to Dagan. Magnen denied them entry on the other side. When he returned to Dagan, the Hateful tried to follow anyways. But, before they could join the good dragons, Magnen sealed their exits, trapping them between the worlds. There they stayed in abeyance, brooding sinfully in the primordial blood of the worlds.”
“That was never taught in the history lessons,” Zen said. “I don’t think that it’s…”
“It’s true,” the man
said. “You’ll come to believe me.”
“If it’s true then why are there no stories of the other world and nothing in the written histories of Dagan?”
The old man smiled and shook a finger at him. “That’s the thing. Magnen took their memories, for they willingly gave them for asylum on a peaceful world.”
“Peaceful? The Malworn weren’t peaceful,” Zen replied.
“One Malworn,” the man said. “It was Jussein that caused the unrest. You know that outcome.”
“Yes, I do,” Zen said, recalling history lessons in depth. “But, if Magnen brought only the good dragons to Dagan then he would’ve only brought other good natured things to Dagan to keep it peaceful, would he not?”
“Yes, and he did,” the man said. “However, it doesn’t mean that hearts of man, even ones with magic, can remain untainted with their freewill. Jussein was just the poison needed to taint the hearts of others and create the Malworn. Not to mention, their rebellion came after Magnen's fall. Also, look at the wyverns, another example. They were brought here, too. Generations after their pilgrimage here, many are cruel, conceited, selfish; others, not so much.”
Zen agreed with him and Kyshta came to mind immediately. She was all of that and more. Although, he doubted she possessed the brains to lead a revolt against peace like Jussein did. In fact, he doubted she possessed brains to do much of anything except to terrorize a select few wyverns and one unlucky dragon whose fate brought him into her onslaught of criticism. He knew her studies suffered from lack of intelligence. Perhaps that was why she was so cruel; she couldn’t succeed at her studies so she took to drawing the attention away from herself by succeeding to be a thorn in everyone’s side; a childish tactic. If that was the case, Zen would’ve been happy to help her study had she asked him nicely. His mind guffawed. Kyshta, nice? Not in that lifetime.
“You seem amused.”
“Yes, quite,” Zen replied. “If you had my quarrelsome history with a certain wyvern, you’d understand.”
Muzh U Kijo nodded. “Her positive contribution to this world will be revealed in time.”
Zen barked a laugh louder than he intended. “Not in this lifetime.”
“That’s about accurate,” the man said.
Zen looked at the doorway where Old Arley had reappeared. “He is packing now, Muzh U Kijo. He will be ready to leave soon.”
“Ah, very well,” he replied. “Thank you.”
Old Arley then addressed Zen. “That was a good deed done. We will eat and remember your generosity with each bite. Thank you, dragon. You are welcome in our home forever.”
“I felt your hospitality shouldn’t go unpaid,” Zen replied. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
Old Arley smiled, his cheeks almost smothering his eyes. “Such a thoughtful heart you have. I understand why Arley has chosen to be your friend. He is a good kid, just shy at times. He will help a lot on your journey. Thank you for offering to take him with you.”
Zen had no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t invite Arley to help him find Lana. He never did… but…
His eyes darted to the old man. He was smiling.
He did it…
“Yes,” Zen said to Old Arley. “I’m sure Arley will be a lot of help.” He felt cornered, unable to back out or go forward without insulting the old dwarf. Zen added a smile.
“I’ll tell him to hurry so not to delay your departure tonight.” Old Arley turned on his heal and strode through the archway again.
Zen turned to the old man. “What’s this all about?” he hissed quietly.
“What? We couldn’t leave your friend behind. It’d hurt his feelings. Plus, he’d probably follow you anyways,” he replied.
“Not if he can’t fly,” Zen whispered.
“He can with you,” the man replied.
Zen barred his teeth grudgingly. “He’ll slow me down.”
“He won’t slow us down,” the man stated.
“Us? Us? You’re following, too?” Zen half sighed, half growled. “I’m not flying you and him across the sea. You have any idea how tiring that would be?”
“You don’t need to. I have a horse.”
“Great. Now the horse will be slowing us down while it swims to Genetricis.” Zen rolled his eyes.
“Oh, not Xaf,” the man said. “Besides, you’re not flying across the sea.”
“What do you suggest I do instead? Swim like your horse? I’m not swimming you two there either.”
“Simpleton.” The man sighed.
“Am not.”
“Are.”
“Not!” hissed Zen loudly.
The man chuckled. “We’re going sunwake…”
“Wrong direction,” Zen interrupted immediately. “No, we aren’t. I’m going sunrest.”
“Sunwake to Ouris.”
“Wrong direction,” Zen repeated. “That’ll take too long.”
“It won’t. We’ll pick up a number of helpful individuals to aid our fight on Genetricis.”
“How do you know this? Or are you just guessing? If you are, I don’t have time for guesses to determine our course, bah, my course.” Zen scrunched his nose irritably.
“You were right the first time; our course,” the man said. “We will be going the way I said. If you do otherwise, the timing with be set off and you will fail and Lana will die. So will you, untimely. If you want to destroy this world, by all means, continue to be stubborn. If you want to save your little elf friend, then you better listen.”
Zen stared hard at the old man, unsure if he could trust him or not. Was he right? Would she die if he left alone to find her?
“Do you think that I’ve lived many lifetimes to watch Dagan fall? The fate of this world determines the fate of its sister world. All of it hinges on you and Lana and timing.”
Zen scowled, conflicted. He wanted Lana safe now. He didn’t want to wait any longer.
“I understand you’re anxious to see her again…”
“That’s understated.” Zen lay down, moping. He rested his head on the cave flooring and sighed. “I miss her.”
A wave of kindness filled the old man’s face. “You will see her again. I can promise that you will.”
Zen looked up at the old man with only his eyes; his chin remained firmly on the ground.
“You look like a sorry dog,” the man chuckled.
Zen sighed. “It’s difficult not to feel like one. Everything points to giving up. Everything has gotten in my way. Thalassinus broke me and that was the beginning of the end. It prevented me from saving Lana, from flying far away from them.”
“You couldn’t have run forever,” the old man said. “If you did, they would’ve grown. They would’ve overtaken village after village, murdering and devouring their way across Dagan. You would’ve run out of places to run.”
Zen looked at him alarmingly.
“Everything happens for a reason and it’s all in good timing. Please, come with me so we can save Dagan.”
“I will,” Zen said, lifting his head. “But, if I discover you’re wrong. I’m eating you.”
The old man became amused and started laughing.
“I’m not sure how you can find that funny. I'm serious!”
“I’d be like eating mutton. I don’t age like wine.”
Zen made a sour face. “I wouldn’t like it but I’d still do it. So you better be right.”
“I wouldn’t like it either so we best be off. Arley is coming now so stop moping. He’s extremely excited to accompany us and it’ll hurt that excitement if he sees you like that. You’ll be flying us out of here. Before you open your maw to object, it’ll be faster than walking out of here.”
“How’d you know I’d…”
“Complain?” the man interrupted. “I know you more about you than you think I know.”
“Or you think you know more about me than you really know,” Zen said jokingly.
The old man huffed. “You’re a cheeky fel
ler.”
“Everyone knows that.”
“You’re smarter than you look.”
Zen nodded in agreement then looked sharply at the old man. “Hey!”
The man chuckled and nodded his head toward the doorway. Arley was walking toward them with an enormous smile on his face and his eyes were twinkling with excitement. A small brown pack was slung over one shoulder. An axe was fastened onto the pack on one side and on the other side hung a coil of rope.
“Ready,” he said. “Thank you.” He looked at Zen intently.
Zen’s eyes flickered from the dwarf to the old man and back to the dwarf who looked at him expectantly. If he told Arley that he never invited him along, it would hurt his feelings. Sure, he was a big dragon who could do whatever he wanted but he had a big heart that matched his size. He smiled back at him and nodded. He held out a hand and Arley hung his pack on his talon which in turn was hung on Zen’s spike.
Arley turned to Old Arley and Aunt Merni, embracing them both tightly and saying something in lenolden. They sent him off with sacks of food and gave an equal amount to Muzh U Kijo who thank them and fastened them to Zen’s spikes.
“That ought to do it,” he said.
“I feel like a pack mule.”
“You’re the strongest mule I’ve ever seen,” the man said.
“And the best looking, I hope.”
“That’s debatable.” The old man smirked.
Old Arley approached Zen, eyes glistening with tears, and said, “Care well for our little Arley.”
Zen smiled right away. “I will take care of him. The only reason I won’t is if I die trying.”
Old Arley reached up and pet Zen’s cheek. “Let us hope it is not the case. Thank you, dragon, we will be waiting for your return. Best luck on your travel and fights. Be strong, always. Never lose your head. Do not allow anger to rule your judgment. Allow love to, for true love will never lead you astray. Go now. Let the strength of our ancestors aid you.”
He turned back to Aunt Merni who was holding Arley hostage with a tight hug. After some convincing, she released him so he could hug Old Arley once more before climbing onto Zen’s back.
“Climb up, Old Man,” Zen said.
“Kijo,” the man said. “You can call me Kijo.” He scaled Zen’s front leg and seated himself behind Arley. “Alright, pack mule, let’s head out or else we’ll be late.”
