The Book of Ominiue: Starborn (35 page)

As their visited drifted the conversation turned to mundane things. Shayne found himself looking towards the great egg. Soon the king followed his gaze, ‘Ah,’ he grinned. ‘A rare and beautiful artefact,’ he beamed with pride.

‘May I?’ Shayne asked.

‘Please do,’ the UeVarda encouraged. Shayne lifted himself from his seat and walked across to the table. The light from the window fell upon it, causing the golden dragons to gleam. The Venra accompanied him while the king smiled from his resting place, watching Shayne’s expressions.  Níurthan stepped to the side and also watched the Earthmen investigate the artefact. The egg was grand; it was just as long as Shayne’s forearm and half the width. It was a dark brown colour and looked more like a roughly carved stone.

‘Is it real?’ Shayne asked. He held his hand out but refrained from touching it.

‘Go ahead,’ the king encouraged. ‘And I believe it to be real. There were many eggs left behind, without the dragons they were unable to hatch. Those that did manage to break open were weak and sickly and they passed not long after the hatching it was like they knew their fate and resigned to death. There are only a handful of eggs now. This one was saved from a failed clutch and presented to the old UeVarda as a reminder to the sacrifice given.’ The king’s face fell at this. Shayne placed his hand upon the surface; it was rough to the touch and cold.

‘You think it’s real?’ Hanniver asked as he too touched it.

‘Would need to x-ray it,’ Shayne said. He gently tapped the outside and though it was hard it sounded hollow within. ‘The probability of flying dinosaurs is plausible, but they were supposed to be intelligent; with their own language and they could craft things. Who knows what is truth and what’s distortion.’ though Shayne spoke to Hanniver the robot still translated.

The king gave half a chuckle, ‘The Journeyman said you were a people of scepticism. I cannot deny your statement, but you cannot deny mine either.’ He grinned from ear-to-ear before coughing.

‘So did they breathe fire?’ Hanniver joked.

‘Why would they do that?’ the Venra pulled a face at the Brigadier.

‘Is it true your home world never had dragons?’ the monk finally spoke, causing a slightly awkward pause amongst the two Earthmen.

‘We have legends, but no there is no evidence to support them.’

‘Your legends say they breathed fire?’

‘In the west they did. In the east they were the opposite; there they controlled rain and water,’ Hanniver answered.

‘Ethus is of fire,’ the Venra tried to reason. ‘It is his very being, and Matorious is the god of the oceans; a great serpent. Maybe your legends are them, maybe they can move between worlds.’

‘But Ethus is wingless isn’t he?’ Hanniver asked.

‘The three Guardians are all wingless, only Ominiue is whole, and the mortal dragons made in his image.’

‘Western Dragons had wings so I don’t think they can be the same. They were just stories to frighten people. Perhaps they found dinosaur bones and speculated over them?’

‘Do you have any bones?’ Shayne suddenly inquired.

‘Dragon bones?’ the Venra asked with a look of disapproval on her face.

‘Yes, if dragons flew then dragons must have died, surely there would be other remains.’

‘The dragon and their rider were people onto themselves, Afra’hama,’ the king replied. ‘When a dragon fell the others took them to the mountains. There they were laid to rest and those that knew their end was upon them flew to the mountains to die.’

‘So there are graveyards?’

‘One would assume, but how would we get there? Only those who could fly could make it. I guess you could with your machines but they are sacred places Afra’hama. Would you ask us to dig up our tombs for your own curiosity?’

‘I am sorry, we would not,’ Shayne bowed his head in apology. ‘We did not know.’ The UeVarda accepted the statement with a smile. Hanniver began to ask several questions about dragon lore while they answered the best they could. All their knowledge came from ancient texts and though they truly believed what they were saying they had no proof other than insubstantial claims.

Shayne stared at the egg for a while, contemplating its interior and its fate. His eyes glazed over as he looked upon its surface. The conversation between the others drowned out by his own thoughts.

‘How come none came back?’ he half asked himself. Hanniver stopped midsentence and stared stupidly at Shayne.

‘What?’ he asked.

Shayne returned to the king’s seat. He looked upon them all, his gaze lingered on Níurthan, ‘How come not a single dragon returned? Not one, not even to say the battle had ended.’

‘Because they died,’ the Venra answered.

‘And defeated their enemies?’ Shayne’s voice was tinged with scepticism. ‘That does not make sense. If they won as you believe then they would have returned. Someone would have returned, but no one, not a single soul. Why?’ The monk gazed at Shayne. A small smile printed upon his face.

‘Shayne,’ Hanniver said, a little worried, his eyes flickered over the natives as he hesitated. ‘They’re just stories.’

‘You are from the southern continent,’ Shayne addressed the monk. ‘What do your people say about the dragons?’

The monk’s head twisted as he gazed at the Starborn; his smile still present, ‘I do not come from
that
nation. Stories reached my people from the Great War, but no details and the city was razed so few remained to tell the tale.’

‘So they did destroy the city?’

‘It was abandoned afterward. Its foundations still stand; visited only by the desert winds and wild animals.’

‘Then something must have happened afterwards.’

‘How do you conclude that?’

‘If they were powerful enough to raze an entire city to the ground, then their campaign was successful. Humans — and dragons had to have survived to pull it down. If they never returned then something must have attacked them after the war.’

‘What?’ The UeVarda’s eyes were now large with interest.

‘Perhaps they were rewarded by the Kéaran,’ the Venra answered, ‘and given a place in the heavens and the Afradians joined them.’

‘I agree with the Afra’hama,’ the UeVarda answered. ‘The dragons had to have faced something afterwards.’

The UeVarda’s attention shifted when the monk raised his arm to his chest and held his hand so three fingers pointed out in the native gesture for time. 

The UeVarda sighed. They exchanged a few more words with the Earthmen before he sat himself up; he wheezed a bit but managed to smile and say, ‘The hour draws near. Níurthan informs me you should leave for the Teaching Halls soon,’ the monk shifted slightly in acknowledgement.

The king’s mouth twisted into an amused grin, ‘I hear you had a following yesterday when you visited the temple,’ an amused glint flickered in his eye. ‘You have had a taste of what it is like to be in my world, but lucky for you I also know how to move around that. Níurthan!’ the monk instantly stood forward and handed a black bundle to each Earthman, including the droid. Hanniver unfolded his to reveal a Kerwin monk’s robe. The king smiled broadly; there was a deep look in his expression.

‘Put them on now and walk out as
The Order
. Our people will be too afraid to look at you let alone talk to you.’ Hanniver and Shayne both formally bowed and then proceeded to cover themselves while Hanniver instructed the droid to do the same.

‘You look stunningly ordinary,’ the UeVarda laughed after they were clad, ‘though the metal man shines and the Brigadier Christov looks strange with no beard. You should probably look at your feet as you go by and also stoop more; you are too tall for an ordinary Ta’Orian,’ the UeVarda then waved his hand. Hanniver turned his head to look up at Níurthan; the comment seemed a contradiction as the monk was taller than himself and was also beardless. The only thing he could guess was that local identity meant the monk was well known and therefore the public was used to seeing his tall southern frame. Two tall humans side-by-side on the other hand would look strange and draw attention.

‘You should not keep the UeShádarns waiting. May the blessings of the Kéaran fall upon you.’ They all formally bowed again and left the room.

As they walked briskly up the hallway, trying to keep up with the swift monk Shayne spoke, ‘You can see our shoes as we walk.’ They all looked down at the shine of the polished military boots and the glint from the robots.

‘Get a little mud on them and no one will notice,’ Níurthan simply said. He did not say another word until they were outside the palace and at the gates. The guards motioned them forward and the Earthmen kept their hoods well over their faces and their heads down.

‘Níurthan of the Kerwin and three apprentices of Showl,’ the monk informed. One of the guards looked up at the Earthmen; recognising who they were. She then proceeded to note them down in a ledger. Only those who handled the books and those who were carefully watching knew that any apprentice of Showl was someone who left the palace without first signing in.

There were broken clouds drifting over the city and as they walked along the road to the teaching halls a rather nasty dark one loomed directly above, hiding the top of the tower. It looked as if it would open up and rain down upon them, but it held off. The clouds moved quickly overhead, with brief moments of sunshine followed by more cloud. Looking westwards where the weather front was guided by the Beldon Mountains they could see that it was almost completely clear, with only a few threatening groups of cloud between them.

The colder weather meant that most people stayed away from the strip of gardens between the palace and the city, they hurried to their destinations and stayed inside if they could help it, so when no one was watching they scuffed their shoes in muddy puddles along the way, removing any shine from their feet and the metal plating of the robot. After they were satisfied they walked more carelessly, keeping their heads down in a manner that was typical of
The Order
. 

They passed the walls and gates of the college: they were by no means defensive; it was more to separate their buildings from the upper-karmon district. Behind the walls were also other specialised structures.
The Order
monastery was situated amongst the guild halls, with their temple joined to the city barracks becoming part of the wall itself, their building held access to a shared training area with the shytarda as well as their own facilities. The two factions backed up against the Island defensive perimeter, between the college and fishing bay.

The rest of the Teaching Halls were divided into two social areas, the open buildings nearest the walls were for guilds such as the smitheries and masons. The various guild buildings lead up the steep incline to the foot of the tower were the old Teaching Halls rested. The buildings were carved into the solid rock face of the mountain tower and that was where the high academics dwelt, where Kíe was raised and where he learnt everything he knew. The greatest treasure was their library, filled with the most precious and oldest manuscripts; housed deep in the mountainside where it was dark and dry, delaying their eventual decay. Copies of these precious and rare items were available to the public and students; housed in the common library; situated closest to the cliff face and with windows to allow natural light through. The halls were many stories high. Balconies and windows stretched up like spirals of ant hills in otherwise untouched stone. Shayne wondered how close to the tower’s foundation they dug, whether future work would compromise the tower’s stability. He suspected from what he saw that they were nowhere near, but he did not know how deep the tunnels ran either. If both teaching hall and the wizards’ tower co-existed in the days of its glory, then there would probably be tunnels to connect the two. The towers, as they stood today, were blocked off. No one was allowed to set foot in them. Even the citadel guards only roamed the tower gardens, never passing beyond the doors, forever waiting the return of the sorcerers of old.

A lichen covered dragon statue was at the lower end near the gates that separated the halls from the city. It peered up into the sky almost mournful and between its front legs stood a warrior also looking out at the sky; at the statue’s base was a stone monument, curved around the dragon in a semi-circle with writing etched into it.

‘The last dragon.’ The monk responded to their glances as they walked around the sad stone creature and started climbing the steep road to the Teachers Halls. ‘Legend says it was the only surviving hatchling. The last survivor. It lived here in the halls and there it died. A wretched creature that would have been better off never existing.’

‘And the man?’ Hanniver asked.

‘Another wretched creature. Also the last of his own kind. That was Malakie, son of Marakite, of the Afradians, it is said he took pity on the dragon and slayed it, but there was no one to do the same to him so he returned to the Wayel-Éaa forest to await his fate.’ The main entrance of the halls had two giant pillars, which were carved out of the dark mountain stone; like the ancient Earth city of Petra but on a much grander scale. Panels above the doors revealed an ancient battle with warriors on horses and dragons, and wizards casting spells.

Níurthan took them through the building and into the darkness beyond. Oil lamps were fitted to the walls; lighting the main hallways. There were many doors to various rooms and stairwells that rose above and below them, reaching into the depths of the mountain side. The actual extent of the cave-rooms was unfathomable to the casual passer-by, with many of them forgotten. They took a stairwell up many flights; an exercise that took the breath from them, though the monk’s breathing remained perfectly even. All the way up the walls were carved with artwork, most of which were in the form of circles and swirls; rising up with them.