The Dragon Blade

by P D Atkerson

  Aroron's hands were shaking uncontrollably.

  Then, like little needles, pain shot up his arms and through the rest of his body.

  He screamed out in pain and collapsed to the ground. He moaned and lowered his head to the ground in front of him. The cold stone was comforting on his warm forehead.

  Memories flashed through his mind, too fast for Aroron to focus on.

  What was going on with him?!

  His stomach lurched and he threw up on the ground in front of him. He glanced up and saw his uncle still fighting the guard, but he quickly turned away and threw up again. His throat burned and he dug his nails into the floor.

  That's when the ringing in his ears started.

  Aroron’s hands flew to his ears, but he couldn't block the noise out. It was piercing. Suddenly, a wave of sadness hit him and he began to cry.

  It was like he couldn't control himself anymore! Emotions ruled him. He looked up and saw his uncle standing over him. He'd taken care of the guard, while Aroron had been throwing up.

  Trot looked at him sadly, pulling Aroron to his feet. "You'll be alright. From what I’ve heard this will wear off," he whispered, as Aroron wrapped his arm around his uncle's shoulders.

  Aroron didn’t understand what he was talking about and he wondered if this was what it felt like to die. His insides were all twisted up and he could barely see the path in front of him.

  "We have to hurry!" His uncle continued to urge him on, half holding, half dragging him. Aroron hated himself for being so weak.

  Luckily for Aroron and his uncle, the further they went from the throne room, the less guards there were to avoid. Yet the hallway grew darker with each step.

  Aroron kept expecting a guard to jump out from every corner they passed. He wasn’t sure why he felt this way, but he knew he didn’t like it, not at all.

  As they walked, Aroron’s mind kept going back to the throne room and to his father's body. He had to fight back tears, he was old enough not to be crying!

  "Where are we going, uncle?" Aroron asked. He'd lost track of where they were several minutes before and he had no idea where they would be headed.

  Lord Trot looked at him and sighed. After a moment he whispered, "To the underground tunnels."

  Aroron stopped dead in his tracks and turned to stare at his uncle, shaking his head. "Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” His uncle nodded. “Do you know where everything is in this castle uncle?" Aroron asked.

  His uncle turned back towards him and laughed. "I grew up here, that's all. Come on, we need to hurry, guards will be here soon."

  "But I thought the tunnels weren't safe? That's what the stories say. Don't creatures live in there?" Aroron wasn't sure he wanted to go into that dark place.

  "The tunnels are as safe as the rest of the Castle, probably more so right now," Trot said. "Now come on, we need to move as fast as we can! No more questions."

  Aroron and Lord Trot continued down hallway after hallway, the air growing thicker, cobwebs draped in the corners of the walls. His uncle didn’t even hesitate before turning. Aroron started to wonder how long it had been since this part of the castle had been cleaned. If he had to guess, he'd say a hundred years or so.

  The ground was grimy and the smell of the place made his head hurt.

  Lord Trot came to a sharp stop and looking around. "I think this is the place," he mumbled, half to himself, as he turned this way and that.

  Lord Trot grabbed a torch and approached a painting on the wall. With his free hand, he ran his fingers along the edge of the canvas.

  Aroron heard a 'click' and the painting popped off the wall, a door leading into an unknown darkness, or the mouth of some kind of beast.

  Lord Trot reached in and brushed the cobwebs away, quickly wiped his hand off on his pants, then turned towards Aroron. "Climb in," he said, motioning to the dark hole.

  "What?" Aroron asked, staring at his uncle. "You want me to climb into that?!" He asked, motioning towards the gaping hole. There was no way he was climbing into that!

  Lord Trot nodded, crossing his arms. "Yes, it's safe and the only way into the tunnels from here," he said, leaning against the wall. "Now hurry up, we don't have all day!"

  "But... what's down there?" Aroron asked, shivering.

  He didn't like the thought of what it must be like down there. For all he knew, they threw dead bodies down there to rot, alone and forgotten!

  “What’s down there?” Aroron asked, repeating himself.

  "Monsters, the living dead and huge spiders," his uncle said, laughing to himself. "Now, get in there before I throw you down!" he said, shaking his head at Aroron.

  Aroron glared at his uncle once again, as he stepped forwards and towards the painting. He pulled himself up onto the table under it and stopped.

  He glanced back at his uncle, he was fairly certain Lord Trot wasn't going to change his mind.

  With a long sigh, Aroron grabbed onto the top of the hole and pulled himself up, sitting on the edge of it. For a second, he just sat there, frozen. He didn't want to go onto the dark abyss.

  "Alright!" He heard his uncle growl behind him as he shoved against Aroron's back, pushing him forwards. He screamed as he went sliding down into the tunnel.

  His shoes scraped against the inside of the tunnel, and even though he’d stopped screaming, the sound of it still echoed through the tunnel.

  The air around him continued to grow colder and colder, as he slid deeper under the castle. The smooth walls around him grew wet and he could smell mildew.

  The next thing Aroron knew, he flew out of the tunnel and slammed into the far wall outside. His shoulder screamed out in pain as he hit hard against the stonewall.

  When Aroron opened his eyes, he noticed it wasn't completely dark in the tunnels.

  The walls glowed with a light green tint. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet and glanced around. To one side of the tunnels, the path forked off.

  Aroron hoped his uncle knew where they were going from here. There was no turning back now.

  He heard the sound of his uncle sliding through the tunnels above him.

  Lord Trot flew out of the tunnel, rolled and landed on his feet. Aroron wondered how many times his uncle had been down the tunnel before.

  His uncle quickly moved towards a tunnel on the right. "This way, hurry. I don't know if King Munay will think to send his guards here or not, I don't want to take that chance." Trot said, leading Aroron through the dimly lit tunnel.

  The stones crunched under their feet as they walked. Every now and then Aroron would hear something scurrying on one of the walls causing him to shudder.

  He didn’t even want to think about what was in the dark room with him.

  Just ahead was what Aroron thought looked like a dead end. He took another step towards it, when his head began to swim again. He placed his hand against the wall to steady himself.

  The wall in front of them was smooth with nothing to grasp, except two weird looking hand holds cut into both sides of the thing. Aroron wondered what it was for.

  Pain went through his back and up his spine, like a knife cutting into him.

  He screamed and fell to the ground, his knees hitting hard against the stone. The pain traveled through his body, and he started to grow numb. He just wished whatever this was would be over with!

  He hated every second of it.

  His uncle knelt next to him and placed a hand on his back. "You're going to be okay, this will pass. You just must fight through it. The worst thing you can do is give into the pain."

  Aroron stared up at his uncle. What was he talking about? Give into the pain? He had no idea what that meant. He was about to ask him, when pain rippled through his body again.

  "Ah...!" Aroron screamed and gasped for air.

  Then it was all over.

  Just as fast as it had come, the pain was gone, and he felt a lot better again.

  Slowly he stood up. "I think I'm okay now."<
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  "Good," his uncle said, and Aroron could see he really did care about him. "I know that couldn't have been fun. Here, help me with this," Lord Trot said, pushing against the wall.

  He leaned against it, and his boots gripped the ground.

  Pushing together with all their might, the wall started to move and Aroron realized it wasn't a wall at all but was in fact an odd sort of doorway out of the tunnels.

  The doorway led Aroron and his uncle out into a dark clearing he'd never seen before. He looked up and gasped. They were outside the castle! He quickly looked around and that was when Aroron noticed a horse grazing in front of them.

  "I wasn't sure how today would go, so I had my horse saddled," Lord Trot said, patting the horse's mane. "Take him, you must hurry and get out of the castle now."

  Aroron stared at the great beast of a horse in front of him. Completely black, its mane a glossy gray. "I can't take your horse, uncle," Aroron said, looking at the strange horn coming out of the horse's forehead. "He's too great for me to ride."

  "It's okay, you need him more than I do," Trot said, smiling at Aroron. "He's strong and can carry you faster and longer than any other horse in the castle, just take care of him," his uncle said, with a wink. "I promise you, he'll take care of you more than you care for him." Aroron nodded. Trot grabbed his hand and looked him in the face. "Aroron, these next few years are going to be hard on you, but you have to be strong."

  What was his uncle talking about? Because father is dead? Aroron highly doubted it, he'd hardly been around, it wouldn't be that different.

  "I don't want to leave!" Aroron said, fighting back tears. This was the only home he'd ever known.

  "Aroron, you're going to be okay. You're a strong kid, I know you've already been through a lot and you'll make it through this too," Lord Trot whispered to him.

  "I don't think I'd have made it through any of this if it wasn't for you." Aroron looked at his uncle, he couldn't fight the tears anymore. He grabbed his uncle and hugged him. "I hope I see you again."

  His uncle stood there for a moment, then he pulled away and looked at him. "I've enjoyed watching you grow up and I know your father and mother would be very proud of you."

  Aroron nodded, as a tear slid down his cheek. "Thank you, uncle," he whispered.

  Lord Trot cleared his throat and turned away. "There are supplies in the saddle bag, it should help you along," Lord Trot said, patting the bag. "Here, take this sword too," he said, as he unbuckled his belt and handed it to him. As Aroron reached for it, he realized it wasn't his uncle's sword, but the sword his father gave him.

  Aroron looked at his uncle. "How in the world did you get it?!"

  Lord Trot laughed, glancing at the ground. "King Munay was too worried about getting killed by the falling glass, he didn't even notice he'd dropped the sword."

  Aroron laughed too, then sighed. "Thank you, uncle," he whispered, fastening it around his waist. In some way, to have it, made it like his father was there with him.

  Aroron pulled himself up into the saddle and quickly turned back towards his uncle again. "Uncle, I don't understand what's going on. What happened in there?"

  "You'll understand one day. I promise you that," he said.

  "What about King Munay's weapon? What good is my running, if he destroys the world?" Aroron asked.

  Lord Trot laughed. "I've seen the weapon and believe me, it wasn't what he was expecting. It will be a long time before he knows how to control it," he said, as his smile faded.

  "You know what it is?" Aroron asked, and his uncle nodded.

  "Yes, they call it the Heart of the Sea." He abruptly changed the subject. "Be wary of the woods. Do not stop even for a moment in them."

  Aroron's face whitened. "Why not?"

  His uncle hesitated. "There are... things in the woods you do not want to meet," he said, then quickly continued. "Once you reach the river, head left and always keep the river to your right." There was banging far off and Lord Trot stepped back. "You must leave, now!" He grabbed Aroron's arm. "Do not forget us! And do not forget who you are!" Lord Trot told him, then turned away. “I wish you all the safety in the world on your journey.”

  "But uncle, what about you?" Aroron asked, as he realized his uncle had betrayed King Munay by helping him. The only ending of this ordeal that he could think of, was death.

  His uncle looked at him and smiled. "It's alright, whatever happens to me I'll be fine. Someone once died to save me from a fate worse than death. Perhaps it's my turn. Now go, before it's too late.”

  Aroron turned away from his uncle, fighting back tears as he tapped the horse's side and he bolted forwards. Aroron knew where he was going.

  As he bolted across the bridge and towards the Dubh-Woods, the second he heard the horse's hooves hitting dirt and not stone, two steep mountains shot up on both sides of him. He was headed straight towards the dark woods, just on the border of his vision. Every second that passed he drew nearer and nearer. Aroron bit his lip and closed his eyes, as he and the horse pierced the outer edge of the Dubh-woods.

  Instantly, a heavy weight fell upon him, like a dark shadow.

  The air around him grew thicker with every breath he took, as if it was filled with something and the smell of it was foul! Like something rotten, but not yet dead.

  Chapter 10

  The Dubh-Woods

  The deeper into the woods Aroron went, the darker it became. His chest tightened, and he couldn't breathe. Stop it! He yelled at himself. He had a crazy urge to bury his head under a blanket, but unfortunately, he didn't have a blanket. He knew he had to ride on, but he really, really, didn't want to. His mouth was dry, and his hands began to tremble.

  How far would he have to go, before the Loyal Warriors lost track of him? For all he knew, he'd never see light again! The horse's hooves thudded against the hard ground, throwing up dirt behind them. In truth, Aroron had no control over his horse, it could tell the way ahead much better than he ever could. The darkness was almost blinding and made him feel nearly senseless.

  The Dubh-Woods was made up of dark trees, with no foliage growing on any of it. Not so much as a blade of grass grew in the trees' shadows. It was an unnerving place to be. Even in the day time, it was unnaturally dark.

  The woods were believed to be haunted, and Aroron could see why. Everywhere he turned, shadows moved, though there was no light to create them in the first place. He was sick with fear, and the hair on his neck and arms stood up on end. "Please! I don't want to die," Aroron whispered, though to whom, he didn't know.

  The Dubh-Woods were, in fact, a barrier between Karlay and the kingdoms to the north. Aroron had never been through them, but they were much darker than anything he'd ever imagined. It took everything in him not to turn the horse around and try to make it back to the castle. Once he was on the other side, he knew he'd never, never, go back to Karlay, or the Dubh-Woods again!

  Deep down he hoped to never see anyone from the Dark Castle.

  He knew he'd lose a few friends, but that was a price he was willing to pay.

  Better to be friendless than dead. At least, that was his opinion on the matter. He would miss a handful of people there, Prince Enrick, Dasety, and hopefully his uncle too, though he wondered how long he'd live for. King Munay would take his actions as treason. Aroron shook his head, trying to shake away the thoughts, if he let himself dwell on it any longer, he wouldn't be able to carry on. He had to just hope his uncle would live.

  Leaning forwards, Aroron rode on. The cold darkness of the woods spreading across his body and into his bones. The black trees grew taller and taller, surrounding him in their shadows. Soon, he lost all feeling in his fingers, as the cold wind turned them numb. They were frozen tightly around the reins. He grimaced and fought to ride on. But along with his fingers, the cold turned his fear numb too. He couldn't think and soon the shadows stopped moving.

  He glanced back behind him. All he could see was a mass of trees, tangled together, like a n
et closing around the flickering torches of the pursuing Warriors, thin moonlight cutting through, that was all the light he could see. His chest tightened.

  Aroron could just make out the sound of the Warriors yelling at each other far behind him. Aroron wondered if the Warriors knew of the creatures inside the woods his uncle had warned him about. In the back of his mind, Aroron thought he remembered stories about them, but he wasn't sure, and he didn't want to think about it. He had to ride through the woods.

  Why think about what might be in here? For a second, he thought he saw something fly above him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as the sound of a bird's cry filled the air.

  Aroron swallowed and quickly turned his gaze back down, keeping his eyes on the path in front of him. If he didn't, he would lose it, the path was just a gray ribbon running through the dark trees in front of him. It was lucky he did, for just as he looked down again, a branch appeared in front of him! He had just enough time to duck down, as it flew inches away from his head.

  "Stupid!" He hissed at himself. "I'm going to make it all this way and end up getting myself killed by a tree branch!" Aroron said, as he sat back up in the saddle again. Watching for more branches in the path ahead, luckily it didn't look like there were any. At least not right now. Aroron hoped it would last, though he doubted it. This wasn't a well-worn path but was in fact quite over-grown. Which was both a blessing and a curse.

  It would make it harder for the Loyal Warriors to follow him, but it would also make it harder for him to follow the path himself. Aroron knew if he wasn't careful, he could easily become lost in the miles and miles of dense forest that surrounded him on all sides.

  “Stay focused.” He whispered to himself, leaning forwards in the saddle. "It's your only hope of surviving this. Don't let father's death be for nothing." The image of his father's death flickered through his mind, but he quickly shoved it back down again. He was glad Shon had taught him how to control his emotions for the most part, he needed that right now. Otherwise, he would have been overrun by them.

  Aroron tightened his grip on the reins and watched as the trees swept past him, nothing more than lurking shadows. They reminded Aroron of people, their hands stretched out towards him.