The Roar of a Dragon (13 page)

Several hours later, I woke up on the cold stone floor of the cave, and suddenly realized how hungry I was. Apparently, failing to eat for three thousand years could have this effect.

Luckily, Iskandor had already gone hunting and brought back a decent-size deer for me to cook by the campfire, and I ate heartily. After I’d filled my belly and then some, I rested for a while against the wall of the cave, before going outside to talk to the dragon. I was ashamed of my outburst earlier. He was still sitting on top of the cave, still keeping watch; though I had a nagging feeling there wasn’t much he had to look out for.

‘Please accept my apology,’ I said, my head down as I leaned against a tree nearby the pond. ‘I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier.’

‘There is nothing to forgive,’ the dragon answered. ‘What you’ve been through would be too much for any being. It was entirely understandable.’

I clasped my hands, thinking. As I had sat in the cave earlier, distraught, one thought had disturbed me almost as much as knowing that I had died at the hands of Delmar soldiers, and been resurrected after three thousand years…

I’d shot lightning from my fingertips
.

When you are a warrior, and you’ve dreamt of being one your whole life, you’re almost predestined to harbor a dislike for magic. Most warriors see mages as cowards, even weaklings, who spend more time with their noses in books than proving their toughness in battle. Personally, I never held that same prejudice — but at the same time, I never wanted to practice magic, either.

I hesitated before asking, ‘Do you know why I have these strange powers?’

Iskandor sighed, was quiet for several moments. ‘I truly wish I did, Aidan. I have heard of my kind bringing humans back from the dead several times over the centuries, but I have never heard of anything like this.’

I was silent myself for a moment, thinking. ‘Have you spoken to any dragons since I… died?’ I was really having a great deal of trouble wrapping my head around
that
particular concept.

The sun was beginning to rise, lightening the atmosphere just enough for me to see Iskandor shake his head. ‘I haven’t spoken to any of my kind since I brought you to that dragon.’

‘Is that by choice, or because you have been watching over me?’

The dragon shrugged his front shoulders lightly. ‘A little of both, I suppose.’

I was touched, frankly, that this dragon was hurt enough by what had happened to me to not speak to his own kind. It showed a great deal of loyalty, as did the fact that he watched over my corpse-like body for three thousand years.

I had never read about anything like
that
in the history books.

I took a breath and decided to move on. ‘You spoke earlier about the forest of Vidasel “formerly” being one of the elven realms. What has happened to the world since I have been gone?’

‘Much has changed, Aidan,’ Iskandor said grimly. ‘More than you could ever fathom.’

I frowned slightly, somewhat alarmed by Iskandor’s dark change in tone.

‘The world is a dark place now,’ Iskandor continued, ‘overrun by evil — evil that started not long after you died, and has been festering for thousands of years. But fear not, Aidan, we will soon have our answers.’ His words seemed to die on his breath, and he seemed about to say something else, but I sensed some hesitation.

‘There is something you’re not telling me,’ I said, ‘And by your words, it sounds as if you are not sure of what the future holds either.’

‘That is very true,’ the dragon answered, ‘there are other mysteries that I cannot explain.’

‘Such as?’ I asked. ‘Until we figure out what we are going to do, we’re stuck here. If you explain anything odd that happened, we may be able to figure it out together.’

‘Well,’ Iskandor began slowly, ‘There was one thing —’

‘By the Gods, you’re awake!’ a cheerful voice rang from the nearby woods.

After you’ve been a soldier for a while, you learn to not like surprises very much. Every time you see a rustling in the bushes, you think someone’s hiding, waiting to kill you. Or if something falls from a shelf behind you, you think somebody is sneaking up to assassinate you. Well, the same effect apparently applies when a tall, skinny man with a high-pitched voice dressed in robes emerges unexpectedly from the bushes.

I went for my swords, but I’d left them in the cave, so I waved my arm out in front of me, about to tell the stranger to leave this place. But as I did, my new ‘gifts’ surged up inside of me, and a burst of blue-white magic shot out toward the man, who just stood there bewildered. As it got closer, the magic turned into a snowball, which burst on the stranger’s shoulder. The man in robes just stood there, snow sliding off of his apparel onto the ground.

The man looked down at his robes, adjusted his glasses, and spoke nonchalantly. ‘Well, I can’t say I expected a snowball in late spring, but it was quite refreshing.’

In my confusion, I hadn’t noticed that Iskandor, while almost as surprised as I was, didn’t make a move against him. Undoubtedly, he could have incinerated or impaled him in a split second. Instead, his look of confusion relaxed into a look of recognition and relief.

I sensed a kind of silent communication between the two. ‘What is going on?’

Iskandor looked at me, then back at the mysterious, yet annoyingly upbeat robed figure. His enthusiasm would have been endearing in my previous life, but irritated me in my current state. His robes were as green as the deepest forest, and his round glasses kept sliding down his face. He wore a rope belt with several pouches, and a large knapsack hung with a leather sling across his chest. Intelligence sparkled behind his cheerful demeanor.

‘I’m sure you are anxious for some answers,’ the robed man said, a statement which irritated me further with its obvious and presumptuous nature. ‘And there will be plenty of time for that, but for now —’

‘You will give me my answers now,’ I said angrily, ‘or I promise that you will be sorry.’

The eyebrows of the robed figure rose slightly. ‘Will I?’

I thrust my hand toward him, this time intending to strike him down. A bolt of lightning shot from the palm of my hand, right on target. Then, right before the lightning bolt was to tear through him, a small area around the figure glowed slightly, and the lightning shattered and died as it crashed against it.

And he hadn’t moved an inch.

‘Aidan!’ Iskandor’s voice shook the very earth. ‘You are being insolent. I know Timor very well, and he is here to help you. He is a wizard’s apprentice who has been checking on your progress for almost the entire time you’ve been unconscious.’

‘Apprentice, huh?’ I asked, grateful for the opportunity to take a clean shot at Timor. ‘So you’re not a full-fledged wizard?’

‘Oh, no, not yet,’ Timor answered, clearly not aware that the question I had just asked was rhetorical and meant to be unpleasant. ‘I was just beginning my apprenticeship when the Initiative was attacked.’ He was mind-numbingly cheerful in his answer.

My gaze move back over to the dragon. ‘He doesn’t understand sarcasm, does he?’ Iskandor shook his head slowly.

My head was
really
starting to hurt.

Iskandor turned back to Timor. ‘Timor, my friend,’ he said, ‘you must forgive Aidan’s anger and turmoil — he’s endured more emotional pain and confusion in the past few hours than most people endure in their lifetimes. And to be quite truthful, I believe he deserves to know at least some information now.’

Timor thought this over for a minute, and then nodded. ‘You are right, my dear friend,’ he said finally. ‘Come sit by the fire, Aidan. You are about to learn some small pieces of the truth, and I can only pray that you can handle it.’

***

‘Where to begin —’

‘How about the beginning?’ I interrupted.

‘Patience, Aidan,’ Iskandor said slowly. ‘Interruption will not get you your answers quicker.’

‘Apologies,’ I said impatiently.

Timor went on as if nothing had happened. He was sitting by the campfire, as I was, a few feet away from him.

‘The year 202 of the Fifth Age… the year of Sir Aidan’s death. I’m sure you are well aware of the issues concerning King Baladir from before your exile, so no need to discuss it. Not long after your departure, your comrade, Norvin —’

‘Norvin!’ I snorted. Even though it was centuries ago, I still had clear memories of my sneering adversary.

‘Yes, Norvin,’ Timor answered.

‘He was
not
my comrade,’ I corrected him.

‘But…’ Timor started, confused. ‘Didn’t you two serve in the same military?’

‘That does
not
make us comrades. It should also be noted that he killed me,’ I responded evenly.

‘I see,’ Timor said, obviously still struggling to grasp the concept.

‘Uh huh,’ I muttered. ‘Go on.’

‘Anyhow,’ Timor continued, ‘what you may not realize is that Norvin had been angling himself for an attempt to gain the throne of Delmar —’

For whatever reason, all I had heard was ‘attempt’ and ‘throne of Delmar.’ ‘Violent?’ I asked quickly.

‘Beg your pardon?’ Timor asked, attempting to recover from my second interruption.

‘Was his attempt on the throne a violent one?’ I asked, saying each word very slowly.

Timor didn’t pick up on my obvious irritation, and responded with confusion. ‘No, not to my knowledge,’ he answered finally.

I looked over at Iskandor, who fixed me with a stern stare. ‘Allow him to finish, Aidan. Do not be impatient, and you will get your answers.’

Impatient
wasn’t the word, but I knew Iskandor was right. It was funny, but I had known this dragon all of a couple of hours (if you didn’t count our encounter three thousand years ago), and when he fixed me with that firm glare, something inside me told me to listen — aside from the fact that he could easily swallow me whole.

Something else in my body told me that that would never happen.

‘I’m sorry, Timor,’ I said, as evenly as possible. ‘Please, continue.’

‘That’s quite alright,’ Timor answered merrily. ‘What I meant about Norvin’s attempt for the throne was that he was campaigning for it…’

I almost blurted out,
Underhanded, no doubt,
but I barely kept my mouth shut.

‘…knowing that King Baladir was losing favor with the Council in Delmar,’ Timor continued. ‘After the Council initially made it known that they were unhappy with Baladir because of the lack of a queen, an heir, and such, the King began to make decisions that hurt his country. There is no need to get into specifics, but it was clear that Baladir was desperate to prove himself, and in so doing, made poor decisions and hurt himself further.’

‘And Norvin, weasel that he is, was ready to sneak in and take advantage,’ I sneered.

‘True, except possibly for the “sneaking” part,’ Timor stated, putting his finger up in correction. ‘Norvin made no secret at all of his intentions.’

‘What does the political situation in Delmar have to do with the current dark state of this world?’

‘Not a thing,’ Timor said, ‘except that they didn’t see it coming.’

‘See what coming?’ I asked.

‘Well,’ Timor said, ‘for obvious reasons, the power struggle between the two was the talk of the entire country. As the silent battle between the two ensued, more and more people became involved on both sides, and as that happened, the country of Delmar was blinded to what happening right under their noses.’

‘Which was?’ I asked.

‘An infiltration,’ Timor answered. ‘A silent infiltration, one that crippled the entire country, and later, the whole planet.’

‘Infiltration?’ I asked.

The young apprentice sighed. ‘Well… no one knows what
truly
happened, even now, three thousand years later. What we do know is this — a powerful sorcerer, by the name of Sirak, who hails himself as a lord, somehow entered the city of Alexia during this time, and then, not long after, the citizens of Delmar… became something else.’

‘“Something else?” You mean to say that the people of Delmar were —
changed
— into something?’

Timor’s mind had clearly been somewhere else. His head shook slightly as his eyes focused on me, returning to the present.

‘Even that expression doesn’t quite do it justice —’

‘Just spit it out,’ I said, sighing in exasperation. Noticing a look from Iskandor, I tried to recover. ‘I apologize.
Please
spit it out.’

As usual, my crossness went straight over the apprentice wizard’s head. I was beginning to get the impression that he had lived his young life very sheltered, without much interaction with people.

Similar to me, then, really.

Timor was deep in thought, seemingly trying to find the right words. ‘The people of Delmar were changed into…
creatures
. One might think of them as zombies, such as a necromancer might summon, but these creatures were far more intelligent — able to take orders, wield weapons, and continue fighting as their limbs were hacked off. They only hear one voice, that of their lord, Sirak. Intelligent, ruthless, and
murderous.’

This was almost too much for my mind to handle. I couldn’t even find a single usable word to say in response. I was too busy trying to absorb the fact that the people of Delmar —
my
people — were the victims of something heinous, beyond comprehension.

Finally, my mind focused on a question that I thought would be good to ask. ‘What could possibly cause something like this? Was it some type of
magic
?’ The use of the word ‘magic’ came out more accusatory than intended.

Of course, Timor didn’t notice. In fact, he didn’t disagree. ‘The elders of my council met many times to discuss the matter, and even they didn’t know. In all of the ages of this world, nothing like this has ever transpired, at any point in history.’

Despite what had happened to me in Delmar, knowing what happened there after my exile — and subsequent death — affected me deeply. The relationship between the people and I was very much about
energy
. I used my energy to help the people, the working class, and through appreciation, they gave the energy back. That inspired me,
drove
me to work harder for them.