Dragon Bow

by Angelique Anderson

  “Eloise, I….” she managed to mumble out before she collapsed to the floor and everything began to go dark.

  Lingaria emerged from Svana’s sword, his wings carrying his fire red body to Svana’s side. He took in a deep breath, and blew a gentle wind over her, which showed sparks of blues and purples dancing across her frame. Svana could barely see him through the darkness in her eyes, but his sparks showed her Percival and Eloise behind him. Their expressions were of absolute wonder—eyes wide, and mouths dropped so far open, they might as well be touching the floor. What did they see? Surely, they couldn’t see Lingaria, could they?

  “No way. Is that a…” Percival mumbled.

  “Is that really a…?” Eloise trailed off.

  Lingaria turned to face them, his large eyes looking up at them, unamused. “A dragon?” he finished their sentence, and then grinned wide, his pearly dragon fangs glistening. His face lit with amusement.

  Svana’s vision went completely dark as she lost consciousness.

  18

  Hekla

  Often it is hard to stand up against what is right. Especially when the one who is wrong is a dear friend. How can you tell them what they’re doing is wrong—how can you tell them that they’ve changed? And most importantly, how can show them that all you want to do is help them.

  Palladin, The Great, Ninth Dragon Elder, Tenth Age of Verdil

  Hekla’s jaw dropped. She didn’t know if she heard the man right. Had he just admitted the king had killed his wife. Her eyes were glued to him as she leaned forward, ready for everything this man was about to tell her.

  Ecthelion let out a deep breath, as if he had been holding in the information of the Aequoran king killing his wife for years.

  His shoulders slumped slightly, and his gaze fell to the floor. “I should have done something to stop him, but I didn’t. I just sat back and watched.”

  “Ecthelion, you can’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault, there was nothing any of us could do,” Jetevius tried to comfort the man.

  Ecthelion wasn’t having it. “No, don’t try to convince me otherwise. No one knew him like I did. I saw the signs, and I ignored them. I made excuses…” His voice trailed off.

  The information had shocked Hekla into silence, and she finally spoke. “He murdered his wife?” she asked, her voice trembling.

  “It wasn’t by his own hand, but it might as well have been. Let me start from the beginning.”

  Ecthelion stopped pacing, and looked Hekla in the eyes.

  “Many years ago, trade was still strong between the lands of Verdil. Renault was a youthful, fresh-faced king, excited about bringing positive change to Aequoris. He was a good man then—worried for the well-being of our people, and adamant that none of us would suffer.” Ecthelion turned his back to them, walking to a carved, polished counter space of coral and oyster shells.

  Hekla watched intently, as he quietly walked around his home, gathering a few different objects.

  “You know, in those days, no one went without. If someone sought out the king, he took care of their needs. It didn’t matter who they were, or if they were in debt with their taxes to him. None of that mattered.”

  After a few moments, Ecthelion strolled back toward them, with an elegant teapot and an oyster shell full of small green squares.

  “Come, sit with me here.” He led them to hand carved chairs and a small table, where he laid down the items.

  “Anyway, as I was saying, he was a very caring man and a great friend. During that time, I was an elder of the court, but Renault and I were great friends. That friendship grew, and eventually he elected me his advisor. Which really was an excuse for us to discuss art, politics, and life. A great many conversations took place in the hallways of the castle.”

  “Then one day, the Tellurian King had forbidden trade between Aequoris and Telluris.”

  “I remember that day very well,” Jetevius interjected. “I was a boy, and I’ll never forget the words of distress between my father and mother. A lot of our trade with the kingdoms helped to supplement the things we need that simply can’t be found here.” His eyes filled with memories, gleaming as if moist, and yet—they were underwater, so no tears fell. “My father left my mother shortly after that. We presumed him dead, because one of the soldiers saw him leave to the surface and he never returned.”

  “You don’t think that he might have gone to one of the Aequoran islands up above?” Hekla wondered.

  “You don’t think I haven’t looked, Hekla? I have, so many times. He’s gone. He probably died that day.” Jetevius looked away from her, and she didn’t push the subject anymore.

  “Please, continue, Ecthelion,” she urged him.

  “Indeed, it was very sad day for us. A day that began a downhill battle for all Aequoris. That day I went to see Renault to discuss the matter, and he turned me away. I didn’t take it personal. I knew the weight of what had happened would fall on him. Our kingdom has always been humble, but we have always taken care of our own. The trades allowed us just a bit more. When that was taken away, we lost a lot of the tools, and above ground necessities that make life easier. Knives, weapons, dishes. Things that seem so simple, but in the end, really changed our way of life here.”

  “It was the first time he had ever sent me away. I remember seeing the queen that day, her cheeks and eyes reddened from crying. Her fiery red hair, billowing wildly with the ripples of water.”

  “Red hair?” Hekla asked, wondering why. All Aequorans bore the same resemblance, sea foam colored skin, crystalline eyes and brilliant white hair. Hair that became tinged green with age.

  “Yes, the most brilliant red you’ve ever seen, redder than your sister’s,” Jetevius answered.

  “Yes, she was so incredibly odd, that one.” Ecthelion laughed. “Theres never been another Aequoran like her. No one knew why she had red hair, but she was the loveliest woman you could ever hope to know. That’s what made them so complimentary to each other. Their kindness, and love for their people.”

  “After that, he started turning me away more and more, until we never talked anymore. The queen and he grew apart, but it didn’t change her. She still fought for the people and cared for them as she always had. As people in need came to the castle, he turned them away too. That’s what triggered the queen’s demise. He turned away a family, with children.”

  “Don’t, please,” Jetevius said. “Please…”

  “I have to say it,” Ecthelion said, “the kids were starving. So thin and nearly transluscent from lack of nutrients. A little girl and a little boy. I knew the king would take care of them, after all… that was the kind of man he was. So, I sent them in, and I waited.”

  “The mother emerged with the children just a few short moments later, she wailed out in sadness. ‘What? What is the matter?’ I asked her, thinking that king had either gone above and beyond, or he had turned them away. He wouldn’t do that would he?

  “‘The king sent us away and said if we ever returned and asked for help, he would take it out of my skin,’ the woman had told me. I was so appalled by the news, I rushed into the throne room. I yelled at Renault for his treatment of the family, but he immediately shushed me. He said if I didn’t leave, he’d have my head. He ordered me not to help them, and warned that if I did, he would kill me himself.”

  “I should have fought him, begged for the family, done something other than walking away. Which is exactly what I did. I walked away, but the queen… she would never let a family go hungry. She made sure they had all the food they could handle. She gave them clothes, and tools, and a few gold coins to help them. She told them to do good with what they had been given.”

  “I watched in awe as they left, the woman smiling and laughing, hugging her children tightly. The little boy she helped save that day, was none other than Jetevius here.” Ecthelion motioned to Jetevius, his mouth turned in a wide smile. “He’s a good man, and it’s part of the reason he’s the captain of King Renau
lt’s armies, but that story is for another day.”

  “Anyway, before anyone could blink, what the queen had done spread across the kingdom. Not her good deed, but her act of defiance. She was ordered to death just three days later. The King had her beheaded in a public display. He announced that day that he would not help another soul, and that if the Aequorans, died, it was their fault.”

  Ecthelion got up from the small table then and crossed the room. His fingers wandered over a few trinkets he had on various shelves.

  Such an odd thing for a man his age to have, Hekla thought.

  He picked up a small statue and clenched it in his fist. The statue was clearly handmade, it looked like a little boy holding something.

  “The queen was empathetic, and generous, always. When my son died, she had this carving of him made. It’s all I have left of my family now.” Ecthelion closed his eyes, and when he turned back around, he still held the small statue in his hand. Hekla’s heart broke with the pain she saw evident in his scrunched features.

  “When she died, a king didn’t just lose his queen. I lost a friend, and Aeuqoris lost its hope for something better.” He turned back around, and set the small statue down, picking up a small circular item that reflected the light.

  “Yes, but Hekla is here… I really think she’s going to change things for the better. You didn’t see her, Ecthelion, she saved so many of those who should have died, when the battle happened. She stood up to the king and continues to do so. If there was ever a time for hope, my friend, it is now.” Jetevius’s face brightened, as he tried to encourage the man.

  “I don’t think I could ever hope again,” he replied, as he walked back to the table, and set the object down. He looked off in the distance, his eyes wistful. “My hope died with her. This badge was a sign of my place within the kingdom. After we sent her body adrift to sea, I left the Elders Council, and retreated into the village to live like a common Aequoran.”

  “That was when everything began to turn. Renault, the King, became the opposite of who he had been. He raised taxes and demanded a share of everything. Those who tended the seaweed fields and the fishermen were ordered to give him first dibs of everything. What the Aequorans had been stretching to make last among them, now had to be divided in half, and its remainder stretched even farther.”

  “Shortly after that, King Renault ordered that trade with anyone above the surface stop. It was the beginning of the end for us. Our Kingdom once boasted such beauty and elegance, it would have stolen your breath away. We had many fields of different water crops, and life flourished down here. We worked together in unity, and it was truly something to behold. Once his greed took over, all of that stopped.”

  “Our people died for lack of proper nutrients, and those who survived became uncaring. We stopped looking out for each other and began to look out for only ourselves… simply because our survival depended upon on it. King Renault learned of my leaving the council, and demanded I return. I couldn’t do it—I fled. I knew I couldn’t go too far, I wanted to be there for Jetevius if he or his family needed me. After all, the Queen had died because she saved them. I felt it my duty that they were given their best chance.”

  “I watched over him, and when the time came, I helped him understand what to do to get on the King’s good graces. He trained hard and fought harder. His place as a soldier of Aequoris ensured that his sister and mother would be taken care of. I’ve been here the whole time, but if I may add, he earned the title of Captain Jetevius on his own. I couldn’t be prouder if he was my own son.”

  Ecthelion glanced toward where the small statue of the boy on the table, his eyes filling with emotion, and his chin raising slightly.

  “Anyway, can I get you anymore tea, or seaweed crackers?”

  Hekla shook her head sadly. Her heart went out to him, to Jetevius and to the people of Aequoris. It only steeled her resolve to do more to help the people. Her people.

  “You’ve been like a father to me,” Jetevius said, reaching across the small table to pat the man’s arm. “You’ll never know how grateful I am for that.”

  Ecthelion cleared his throat, fighting back his own emotion. “You know how proud I am of you, Jetevius. That even though you have been under King Renault’s employ, you haven’t changed who are. You remain true to yourself. Don’t ever change that. Anyway, I don’t know if King Renault will ever be the same again. Even if you discover what it is that taints his spirit, even if he comes back to how he was, a great leader, and my best friend. Even if that happens—I don’t think he could live with everything he’s done. It would break him.”

  19

  Astrid

  True friendship means you cannot stay mad at your friend for long. When you get mad, it is often times because of your friend’s honesty, and you know that deep down, you want that honesty, because people who aren’t your friends, they won’t be honest with you—they’ll lie, and there is nothing more precious than honesty. Without honesty, we are blinded by the sight of our own noses.

  Voadria, The Life Giver, First Dragon Elder, Second Age of Verdil

  Astrid woke to the sound of gentle humming.

  “Aronus?” she asked, sitting up quickly.

  Her eyes adjusted to the light as it peeked through the tent. Aronus was nowhere to be seen. She still heard the humming and glanced around until she saw the little hummingbird. The little bird flew from one side of the tent to the other, dancing to the melody of the birdsong outside. Astrid’s heart dropped.

  I’m sorry, Aronus. I didn’t mean it. Just come back.

  Her mind felt a terrible void of the commanding presence that was her dragon guide. The emptiness seeped through her, like a darkness crawling in.

  She had felt the hint of it when she had parted ways with her sisters, but Aronus had reminded her that even though they were parting, she would never truly be alone. She’d always had him, even when she had climbed The Great Mountain to get to Caelestis, and it seemed like he’d left her—he hadn’t. He’d only given her the opportunity to grow in her own understanding and strength. When she’s needed him most, he had always come back.

  Only now, as the chill of loneliness truly embraced her, she wondered if she’d somehow lost him for good. The little hummingbird, seemingly sensing her distress, danced above her head. His cheerful buzzing was sweet, but annoying. She softly batted him away.

  “No, no, not right now,” she told him.

  He tilted his brilliant colored head at her, and his eyes looked sad. The little winged beast was perfectly charming, but she just wanted her dragon back. He’d become her best friend and confidant, and cute as the hummingbird may be, he wasn’t Aronus.

  Stubborn, frustrating, insulting beast! Astrid thought. He drives me up a wall, but even though I may not understand him or why he does things—I need him. She lifted her bow from the ground where she’d laid it the night before. Her soft fingers traced the delicate carving of the bow. Somehow, even the weapon felt emptier without him.

  “What will I do if he doesn’t return? I have no arrows of my own. I’ll need to make some, or find some, or…” Her words trailed off, and even though she had shooed the little bird away, he still fluttered nearby listening to her. “Maybe he just needs time. Why did I open my big mouth? I should never have said a word.” She smacked her face against her hand.

  With her sisters in the Volcano, she had always been the wise one. She’s always been the one who knew exactly what to say, and here, in the one instant where it probably mattered the most, she’d said the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  “What was I to do though?” she asked the little bird. “I know it’s a dragon behind the King’s madness. It must be, it’s the only thing that makes sense. Yes, I shouldn’t have said such things to Aronus, but it was he himself who told me that no one was allowed the use of magic, unless granted it by a dragon. Only dragons use magic, and if there is a wizard performing spells, then it’s only the logical explanation is that he got t
hat from a dragon.” She argued against herself aloud for the bird to hear. He only tilted his head from side to side, as if he could truly hear her, before fluttering happily nearby.

  “Not only that, but Aronus mentioned there was a block. As if something was preventing him from seeing what exactly was in the king’s mind. Who else could do that but someone with magical tendencies?”

  The little hummingbird had nothing to say, which Astrid found annoying. If Aronus were around, and she were talking about anything but a dragon being behind the darkness of the king, he would have something wise or snippy to say. Then they would laugh, and all would be well. All the hummingbird could do was flit and buzz, and that didn’t help her situation at all.

  Astrid plopped herself back on the mat, staring up at the sloped ceiling of the tent. So, if there is a dragon giving a wizard magic to get to the king, then why? What kind of dragon would do such a thing, and worse, why are the Unseen Ones allowing such a thing to occur? It seems like they are very involved in all that occurs in the dragon realm, so why would they do nothing about this?

  Angry and confused, she decided to go for a walk. The mountain was beautiful, and with the threat of the Tellurians no longer lurking around, she could walk where she pleased without fear of repercussion. Gripping her bow tightly in hand, she left the tent, her feet carrying her toward more heavily wooded areas. Her mind still reeling with thoughts about the situation.

  Why hadn’t the Unseen Ones stopped it before it started. It didn’t make any sense. Second, what did the dragon want? If I were one of those infuriating beasts, I would want for nothing. They have everything. So, what could possibly be its motivation for what it has done? All the innocent lives lost, the fighting between the kingdoms, none of it makes sense.

  Coming to a place that looked perfect for what she needed, she lifted her bow and prepared to loose an arrow at a tree trunk. Only no arrows came. With Aronus gone, and no arrows of her own, she was practically powerless. She slid her bow onto her back and grabbed a dagger from her leather belt. She cleared a small area for her to sit, and then hurried about grabbing small broken branches that would be adequate to make arrows from.