The Dragon Blade

by P D Atkerson

  It let out an ear-piercing scream, slashing at Aroron's chest with one of its paws. The monster's long claws dug deep into his skin, causing a fire like burning sensation. It was as if the Monster was tearing his heart apart, one small piece at a time, until there was nothing left of him.

  A loud whistle sounded through the woods and the Panther retreated from Aroron. Still snarling and snapping its teeth at him, but no longer touching him. "Be gone with you..." A cloaked figure hissed at the Panther, as he stepped out of the trees. The Panther whimpered, lowering its head, then turned and ran back into the forest. As the figure drew nearer, fear stronger than anything he'd experienced before, hit Aroron.

  Who was this man, who could command the Dubh-Panther? His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't have the strength to move.

  The dark cloaked figure moved forwards and knelt next to Aroron. His face was masked, still, there was something familiar about him. But all he could see of his face, was two red, nonhuman eyes, staring back at him. There was something wild about them.

  The figure reached out and placed his hand over Aroron's face, forcing him to close his eyes. "Sleep...!" The figure said, in a snake like voice. In fact, the man reminded Aroron of a snake. Then slowly, gray, nearly black fog seeped from between the man's fingers.

  The fog enveloped Aroron, burning his skin as it touched him. Soon, his whole body burned. He screamed out in pain, but he never even heard his own voice leave his body.

  Everything around him was silenced and he couldn't hear a single sound. Not so much as a twig snapping.

  And when he opened his eyes, everything around him was gray and shapeless, like the fog, but not. At least the fog had been something. Where ever he was now, there was nothing. Aroron's heart still beat steady, as he slowly pushed himself to his feet and looked around. For some odd reason, all fear had left him and now he just felt uneasy. As if he knew something was going to happen, but he wasn't sure what.

  "Good to see you're finally awake. Took you longer than most."

  Aroron spun around, and there was the dark cloaked figure. He grabbed at his scabbard, but his sword was gone, as were his knives. He had nothing but the torn and tattered clothes on his back.

  "Aroron, do not fight me. I am only here to help," he whispered, as he stepped closer and held his hand out towards him. "I'm not here to hurt you."

  Aroron stumbled back and tripped on his own feet. "Who... who are you?" Aroron asked, as he quickly pushed himself away from the figure.

  The man pondered the question. "Who am I? Well, we don't have that much time," he said, laughing. "Let's just say, I'm your greatest fear, your worst nightmare and your darkest secret, all put together," he said, raising his gloved hand, he snapped his fingers.

  That's when the screaming started.

  Aroron clutched his ears, and fell to his knees, as the screams echoed around him. Growing stronger and stronger with every passing second. Finally, the figure snapped his fingers again and there was silence. But it was not a peaceful silence and he doubted there was such a thing as peace in this place.

  "Oh, did I lie about not hurting you?" the man asked, tilting his head. "My bad," he said, shrugging. "Just a warning, I tend to lie a lot."

  He stepped forwards and pressed his hand against Aroron's chest. And as he did, he pulled back his hood to reveal the ugliest face Aroron had ever seen. "This is not my face, for I have no face I call my own," the man said. "Perhaps you would like a more familiar face." As he spoke, his face began to change and there standing before Aroron, was Shon. But he knew it wasn't Shon, he still had those wild eyes. He smiled. "I promise you this will hurt you much more than it's going to hurt me. In fact, it's going to be fun for me, and that's not a lie."

  Aroron screamed out in pain, as something sharp cut into his chest. He looked down and saw claws where the man's fingers should have been, digging into him. Aroron gasped for air. His head was pounding, as the ringing continued in his ear. He tried to move away from the cloaked figure, but he was unable to move anymore. He was paralyzed, unable to move even the smallest of muscles.

  The pain let up as the figure stepped back from him. "Well, as much fun as this is, it's taking up too much of my precious time and I really must end it." With that, a sword appeared in his hand. "It wasn't very nice knowing you Aroron. After all, you killed four of my pets," he said, bringing the sword down towards Aroron's head.

  Just as he was about to close his eyes and prepare to die, a white cloaked figure appeared out of nowhere (not that they were anywhere) and blocked the sword, just inches above Aroron's head.

  "Gabe!" The dark figure hissed, lowering his sword. He quickly stepped back. "This is not your fight, he is not protected under the accord!"

  "He does not yet serve your master, either Luse. And it would be wise of you to leave," Gabe said, as he stepped between him and Aroron.

  Luse's face flushed. "If he does not serve your Master, then he is mine!"

  "If he's yours, then why am I here?" Gabe asked, rising an eyebrow. "I wouldn't have even been able to come here if he was truly yours, Luse."

  Aroron saw red flash behind Luse's mask. "Do not treat me like a Goon!" He snapped, stepping toward Gabe. "I know as well as you do who he is! And I will have him, one way or another," he said, stepping back. "Now or later, it does not matter. But I will have him. By the Shadow Prince's hands or by mine."

  Gabe's eyes burned into Luse. "As a warning, if he is killed by one of your Immortals, then I promise you, it will be the last order you'll ever give. I will see to it myself."

  "Do not threaten me, old man!" Luse growled, shoving his nose in Gabe's face. "If I were to kill him myself, you wouldn't even know it."

  "With age comes wisdom, something you do not possess."

  Luse screamed and swung his sword, up towards Gabe, but it was easily blocked. Luse pressed his sword hard against Gabe, but he did not yield. "Leave him be, or I will make you!" Gabe said, shoving the man forwards. Luse stumbled back, but quickly regained his balance.

  "If you were really here, I would kill you easily!" Luse hissed, lunging at him. Gabe brought his sword up and blocked the cut, quickly parrying with his own blade.

  "Oh, really?" Gabe asked, then he brought his sword around and barely touched Luse's skin with the flat of it. Luse screamed out, as Gabe's blade touched his skin.

  "And they call us Devils!" He spat, clutching his hand as he retreated. "Fine! Take him if you want," he said, spinning around. There was a bright flash of light, then nothing.

  Chapter 12

  Starting Over

  Something heavy pressed against Aroron's chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. It finally stopped and everything around Aroron's consciousness stopped with it.

  At first, he wasn't sure what it was, or where he was. His brain was foggy, and he couldn't feel anything. It was as if his mind was floating around somewhere he couldn't get to.

  The problem was, it was peaceful, Aroron wished it would last forever. He didn't even fight to wake up. He just laid there, in a deep sleep. Deeper than anything he'd ever experienced before.

  "Time to wake up, your time has not yet come..." a soft voice whispered in his ear. "There is still much for you to do and learn. Wake up, my child."

  It was in that moment, the peace around him shattered and came crashing down around him. Replaced with a darkness so deep it took the breath out of Aroron's lungs. A shivering cold crept across his body, like claws, digging and scraping against his skin.

  Aroron fought against the cold, as a foul smell entered his nose. He sat bolt upright, gasping for breath, in the cold night air as he began to cough.

  His head spun as he shoved off the blanket, which had been lying over his body.

  The blanket was suffocating, as if it weighed a hundred pounds. His throat burned as he breathed in the freezing air. He could see his own breath in the night sky, as his breathing came in short bursts.

  Slowly, he started to regain feelin
g in his body. It was like a thousand needles were poking into his skin. He couldn't focus his vision yet, but he was pretty sure he was in a clearing of some kind. Painted blue from the light of the moon.

  The trees that surrounded him, were different than those in the Dubh-Woods. Lighter in color, with small green leaves.

  "I'm glad you're finally awake," a voice nearby said.

  Aroron's instincts instantly kicked in when he heard the man's voice. He spotted a tall, dark, shadow standing over him. He scooted back from the man, his mind already at work to protect himself.

  As he tried to stand up, pain shot through his head and he screamed out in pain, clutching his skull with both hands. It was like someone was trying to hammer his head.

  "Careful! You shouldn't be sitting up yet," the man said, grabbing Aroron's shoulders. He gently pushed Aroron back onto the ground. Aroron just moaned and didn't try to fight the man. With the pain ripping through his head, he could barely think, let alone fight.

  "It's alright kid, the Panthers are gone," the man said, sitting back onto the ground. Panthers? Aroron had completely forgotten about them! He glanced around. The man was right, they were gone. Which made sense. They weren't in the Dubh-Woods anymore.

  As the pain subsided, Aroron turned to get a better look at the man.

  The man had dark hair, cut short and rough. The hairs in the front of his face were longer. If Aroron had to guess, he'd say the man used a dull knife to cut it himself. Across the man's face, he wore a leather bandana, causing his golden eyes to stick out even more than they would have, even in the dim light of night. His clothes were old, and earth colored, with sewn up rips and tears all over them. The collar of his jacket was fur.

  A quiver of handmade arrows clung to his back, along with an unstrung bow.

  The man was a hunter. Hopefully that was a good thing for Aroron.

  "Where am I?" Aroron mumbled. He spotted the Dubh-Woods just a few hundred feet away and his body went rigged. He must be just outside the Karlien border.

  "It's okay," he said, placing his hand on Aroron's shoulder. "Nothing's going to get you here. I promise."

  Aroron just nodded his head. He didn't answer my question. Why not? He glanced at the man and eyed him.

  The man cleared his throat, looked down at the ground. He picked at a piece of grass and began to play with it. "What happened to you, kid?" He asked. "When I found you, there were dead Dubh-Panthers scattered around and you were covered in their blood, and your own. It wasn't a pleasant sight."

  "It wasn't a pleasant experience," Aroron mumbled, rubbing his chest. He could still feel the pain, where the Panther's had cut deep into his skin.

  "How the heck did you fight them off? Was there someone else in there with you?" The man asked. "What were you doing in the Dubh-Woods anyways?"

  Man! This guy asks a lot of questions. "What were you doing in there?" Aroron asked, as he slowly pushed himself up and looked at the man.

  "I don't normally come this close to the woods, I still don't know why I did today," the stranger said, glancing towards the trees. "It would seem the Creator still has plans for you."

  Aroron was about to ask him what he meant, when he began to cough. His throat tightened, like it was closing in on itself.

  "Here, have some water," the man said, holding out a canteen to Aroron. "But don't drink it all at once!" He ordered, as Aroron held it to his lips.

  It was hard not to drink it all.

  Aroron's throat was dry, as if he hadn't had anything to drink for days and days! The water tasted so sweet and refreshing. After another few precious seconds, Aroron stopped drinking the water and lowered the canteen down again.

  "Thanks," Aroron said, handing the canteen back to the man.

  The man nodded, as he swung the canteen strap over his shoulder and let it drop down to his side. "It's getting late and the weather's going to get colder," the man said. "We really shouldn't stay out here much longer."

  Now that the man had mentioned it, Aroron realized how cold he was. He hadn't really noticed the cold before. Probably thanks to the pain in his head. His toes and fingers were numb from the cold. He pulled off his gloves and began to breath on them, rubbing them together.

  Aroron grimaced, as the cut in his hand started to sting. He looked down at it, just as blood started to drip onto the ground.

  The man noticed the blood too.

  "We need to get that taken care of. I don't have anything with me, but I do back at my cabin," he said, frowning. "But it's a mile and a half from here. Do you think you can walk that far?" Aroron was still unsure if he could trust the man, but if he didn't, he might lose his hand.

  Aroron nodded, then with the man's help, he slowly stood up. The movement caused his head to spin and his vision to blur. He leaned against one of the soft gray trees, watching, as the man shoved the blanket Aroron had been laying on, into his leather satchel.

  "There!" the man said, standing back up. "Let's go," he said, pulling the satchel over his shoulder, as he turned back towards Aroron.

  For Aroron, (who'd already been through a lot in the last few days), the walk to the man's cabin seemed to take hours and hours. When in fact, it was a little less than an hour. The path they took was invisible to Aroron, but the man moved through the trees as if it was as plain as day to him. They went up and down the hill side, over a river and past a canyon. Aroron was exhausted by the time the path to the cabin became clear to him. Even then, Aroron didn't see the cabin until they were on top of it.

  Half of it was completely over grown by trees, the other half was buried under the earth. Making it almost invisible, unless you were looking for it. Luckily, they were.

  The man moved to the front door, brushed away the overhanging vines and fished out a key. He shoved a rusty key into the lock and turned it. The door moaned as he pushed it open and held the greenery back, as he motioned Aroron inside. Aroron hesitantly walked through the old door.

  The cabin smelled as much like grass and dirt, as the forest did. Maybe even a little more. Which wasn't a surprise since the back half of the cabin was walled in by dirt.

  The man tossed his bag onto the ground and kicked it away. "Sorry about the mess, I'm not used to having guests," the man said, moving deeper into the cabin. Aroron waited a second, then followed him.

  As he did, Aroron fought back the feeling that the roof was going to fall in on them. After all, by the looks of the place, the man had lived there for a very long time.

  The cabin wasn't what you'd call clean, but it wasn't as dirty as the dungeons. Which wasn't saying much. The ground was covered in dirt and looked like it had never been cleaned. It was dirtier than his moldy chamber back in the Dark Castle. Aroron tried to keep his body from tensing from the smell of the place, but it wasn't easy. How the man could live in this dirt hole, Aroron didn't know.

  An old table sat in the center of the room, with a curtain hanging behind it. Aroron guessed that was where the man slept at night. On the side of the room, there was an old stove, a half-burnt log sticking out of it.

  A map lay spread out upon the table, with strange markings all over. Aroron barely had time to look at it, before the man rolled it up and put it away. The man cleared his throat, shoved the dirty dishes and cup to the end of the table, and sat down.

  Aroron hesitated, looked at the scratched-up wood stool, then slowly sat down too. "So, we're in Shenock?" He asked, and the man nodded, as he continued to clean off the table. Quickly, shoving pieces of paper under the old dishes and cups. "Which part are we in?" Aroron asked.

  "We're half way between Hatter and the capital," the man said, grabbing up a bottle of green gel. "Let me see your hand." Aroron grimaced again, as he opened his hand and held it out to the man. He took ahold of it and frowned. "Strange, it healed up a lot while we were walking," the man said, unscrewing the bottle. "This looks like a knife wound. What happened to you?" He asked, slowly pouring the gel out.

  Aroron couldn't answer,
his hand was on fire, as the man spread the gel onto the cut. Once he was done, he wrapped a clean cloth around Aroron's hand.

  "Thank you," Aroron said, rubbing the bandage. It was still sore, but much better.

  "No problem," the man said, shoving himself back in his chair. "I've had lots of experience with my own cuts. What happened to you?"

  Aroron could feel heat rising to his cheeks and his throat tightening. He really didn't want to talk about what had happened, but he doubted the man would just drop it. Aroron cleared his throat and looked intently at the table. "I was... with a friend when the Panther caught our scent," he whispered. "Then we split up and I knew I couldn't let the Panthers go after him, so, I cut my hand so they'd be more interested in me, than my friend. That's all."

  The man whistled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "That was quite the brave and noble thing to do."

  Aroron shrugged. "It really wasn't anything. My friend was only there because of me."

  The man eyed Aroron, then he nodded and stood up. "Are you hungry?" He asked, pulling off his jacket and tossed it onto the back of his chair.

  "Yes, sir," Aroron said. He hadn't eaten since his uncle's chamber and that hadn't even lasted him through the fight with the Panthers.

  "Good, then I'll make us something to eat," he said, moving over to a small stove, shoving the log back into the fire and began blowing on it. After a minute, it burst into flames. Then he grabbed a pot off the wall and filled it with water, placing it inside the stove.

  The man hummed to himself, as he tossed random food into the pot, as the water began to boil, and the smell filled the air. It reminded Aroron of some medicine his mother used to make. He just hoped it tasted a lot better than it smelled.

  Aroron didn't know what to do with himself, as he watched the man search for clean dishes.