Dimwater's Dragon (14 page)

“What kind of a name is Feberik, anyway?” Kathair called out over his shoulder before he slipped out and closed the library door.

Kyra laughed softly, biting her lower lip as she stared at the closed door for a moment.

Then she looked down at the letter. Kathair was right. She might as well open it and see what was inside.

Perhaps she would open it tomorrow. For now, she had a dragon egg to save.

Kathair arrived at his room safely, though he had seen a few individuals trying to be inconspicuous as they followed him through the halls up until he entered his room. No doubt they were instructed to do exactly that by Feberik Orres. He didn’t let it bother him though. Truth be told, Master Orres was right to do so. Even that first time when Kathair had seen her standing in the library window overlooking the courtyard he couldn’t help but feel a connection with her. That was to say nothing of her beauty. Her hair was the color of night. It looked soft and welcoming as it fell around her face and rested upon her shoulders. He smiled even now thinking about her, which was unusual for Kathair.

Unlike many of the other apprentices, who spent much of their mealtime or other pastimes talking about their supposed conquests with their female counterparts, Kathair Lepkin was not easily impressed by human beauty. After all, he had been raised in Tualdern, the oldest and only city of elves within the Middle Kingdom. He had been surrounded by a race whose beauty surpasses that of all others. Yet it was Kyra that captured his heart.

He knew that was why he was protecting her. If any other apprentice he knew was harboring a dragon egg, he would likely inform the headmaster immediately, or destroy the egg himself. Even now he was considering doing just that. After spending time with the dragon slayers, he had come to understand the true danger within the egg. He had even promised himself that if the dragon ever turned on Kyra, he would be there to kill it.

Kathair laughed at himself then, and still did when he thought about it.

Kyra would not need his protection from a baby dragon, she would likely evaporate it with some spell the way she had destroyed the monster that had attacked her previously at the nest.

He admired, and respected, Kyra’s talents, but there was more to it than that. There was something about her, something beyond her power and abilities. Maybe it was her confidence, or perhaps it was the desperation he could sense in her to find freedom. Whatever it was, there was definitely a bond that he felt was growing between them. For the sake of that bond, he would not disclose anything about the egg to anyone.

His thoughts drifted away from Kyra and the dragon as the songs became more boisterous outside his window. His room was a small area, barely more than a closet really. The window was narrow and short, but it allowed him a vantage point from which to look out over the courtyard. He moved to it and looked down. Many of the students had already left, and the bonfire was beginning to die down. Kathair watched the others sing for a few moments before turning back toward his bed and removing his shirt. He slung it lazily over the foot of his bed. Next he ripped off his boots, stuffed his socks inside, and then slid them underneath his bed. Last came his trousers. He tossed them over his shirt and then reached under the blanket to retrieve his twill pajama pants. There was also a shirt that went with them, but he didn’t like it. He liked to sleep with his legs warm, and his chest and feet out from under the blanket. Just before jumping into bed, he walked back to the window and cracked it open a bit to let the cool wintry air in. He took a deep breath of the crisp night air and smiled, then slipped into his bed.

He was quick to fall asleep, with thoughts of what life might be like if he and Kyra were able to go to visit Tualdern together. His mind raced forward through time, imagining that perhaps they would even team up and go on grand adventures. He would be the legendary swordsman and she would be a widely revered sorceress, making them the perfect team to track down any monster in the Middle Kingdom. He knew the fantasies could never be. Master Orres was far too jealous and controlling. Still, Kathair didn’t let those thoughts interfere with the planning and dreaming playing out in his mind as his body drifted into sleep. What would be the point of such a realistic fantasy? Dreams were to be exciting, not sad.

Several hours later, as the last embers from the bonfire rose into the air outside his window, Kathair’s door opened. They were so silent that Kathair didn’t wake. They stalked in noiselessly as if they were nothing more than ghosts. The door closed as quietly as it had opened. They gathered around him, and then upon the agreed signal, it started.

Kathair woke with a start as several pairs of hands seized his ankles, knees, wrists, shoulders, head, and mouth. He moved to fight against it, but then a massive solid force struck him in the stomach. Whatever hit him slid off his chest and then another one came just as soon as the first was out of the way. The second one drove deep into his solar plexus, forcing the breath from his lungs. His body convulsed as his limbs struggled for freedom and his lungs fought for breath. He tried to scream, but somebody fit a large wad of gunnysack into his mouth. All the while the beating continued. Slam–thunk-wham! Soon he had no energy left to fight with. He lay still, silently sobbing and gagging on the gunnysack.

Someone moved in close to the side of his face. He could feel their hot, onion filled breath on his cheek as they whispered.

“Everyone needs a gift for midwinter festival,” the person said. Next came a barrage of clenched fists. They pummeled Kathair’s torso, legs, and face. He was still conscious when they left, but he was nowhere near alert enough to uncover who, or even how many, had attacked him.

There was no way for him to know how much time passed after the last attacker had left and the door had closed, to the time when he finally managed to sit upright in his bed. He could breathe, so he was fairly certain none of his ribs were broken, but he felt as though he had been chewed up by a dragon and spit out and left to rot. Slowly, using his hands for support on the bed, he inched his way toward the door. He never got far. Two paces after he stood from the bed, he collapsed on the floor as his body succumbed to his injuries and his consciousness faded away.

The morning light streaming in through the narrow window did not wake him. The two dragon slayers who had been sent to his room to look for him could not wake him either. They picked him up and put him back on his bed, but there was nothing they could do to rouse him. One stayed with him, and the other left to find the headmaster.

Unfortunately, with all of the remaining students gone for the holiday, there was no one left to question by the time the dragon slayer located the Headmaster Herion.

*****

It was another two days before Kyra heard about what had happened to her friend. She didn’t need to investigate possible motives for such an attack. Kathair had already told her about Feberik Orres. Angry and hurt, she stormed her way through the halls. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was going to say or do, but she was not going to let this stand.

She found him in the hallway, carrying a small vase with three yellow flowers in it, as if he had nothing to hide.

“Ah, I was just coming to see you,” Orres said with a smile. His big hands stretched out to offer the vase of flowers to her.

Kyra pointed at them and a bolt of fire leapt out from her finger to destroy the blue and white vase. Water exploded all over Orres’ face and shards of pottery clashed and clanked across the stone floor. “Did you think I would not find out?”

Orres’ smile disappeared and was replaced by a foul grimace. “What do you think you are doing?”

Kyra stormed up, closing the remaining distance between them and slapped him across the face. Her small hand left a red mark across Orres’ left cheek. “He is my friend. He did not deserve what you did to him.”

“Who?” Orres asked. “If you mean the boy raised by elves, you should know that I was not there. He has done enough to make his own enemies here, and you of all people should know that.”

Kyra stabbed a finger in the large man’s thick, meaty chest. “If you want to survive a night with me after the wedding, then you will ensure that nothing like this ever happens to him again.”

The large man smiled and chuckled. “I do not fear you, nor do I have any reason to interfere with the boy.”

“He told me it was you who tried to send him away.”

Orres held his wet hands up defensively and patted the air. “I am one of the instructors. It is my duty to watch over all Apprentices of the Sword. I was one of many who voted to send him away. I did this as much for his protection as for his development. He is the most talented Apprentice of the Sword ever come through this Academy, and I wasn’t about to see that talent wasted and squandered on squabbling third and fourth year apprentices who would seek to beat him at every opportunity they get. The other night’s event should only show that my choice of voting to send him out was the correct one. But I had no part in what happened. I did warn him of our betrothal, and told him that it was improper to go gallivanting about in the woods with you alone. I told him if I saw such behavior again he would receive more demerits than he could ever work off in his lifetime. I am a jealous man, but I am not a brigand. I would not have a boy beaten.”

The large man took two steps back away from her and then put his hands down at his sides. Then Master Orres bent down to collect the flowers and shards of pottery near him.

Kyra watched him from under her furrowed brow. Still, as much as she wanted to reach out and kick him as she watched him clean up the mess, the sincerity in the man’s tone struck Kyra. She wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth, but if he was lying, then he was exceptionally good at it.

After he was done picking up the larger pieces, Orres rose to his feet and looked at her with kind eyes. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but the headmaster is investigating one of the instructors here. There has been a history of abuse from this particular instructor.” Orres glanced down the hall and then back over his shoulder before continuing. “It is my belief, as well as the belief of many others, that this individual is responsible for agitating many of the other apprentices against your friend. The headmaster has sent for three priests from Valtuu Temple. The dragon slayers that were going to take your friend out for training have now gone to fetch the priests and bring them back. It will take some time, but they will find the truth. If the instructor was involved he will face criminal charges. Suspected apprentices will also have interviews with the priests. If they are found guilty, they will be expelled dishonorably from Kuldiga Academy, with no option of returning.”

“Why wait for the priests?”

“These are not priests in a religious sense,” he said. “They have the ability to discern when people are lying. They have some magical gift that allows them to see into a being’s energy, or soul, or something to that effect.” Orres looked around for a place to discard the shards of pottery he held in his hand.

“How can they do that?” Kyra asked as she folded her arms. She wanted to believe him, but she was still not softening her tone.

Orres shrugged, glancing down at the awkward pile of rubbish in his hands. “I don’t understand it that much, but the headmaster swears that this will be the best way to ensure all those responsible are punished. In the meantime, anyone who is guilty is encouraged to confess early. If it would help you, I would be happy to have a separate interview with the priests. You could be there and watch them, so that you know that I had nothing to do with this. I know it is hard for you to accept me, but the last thing I would do is hurt an innocent person. I only fight to protect others.”

Kyra nodded and turned away frustrated. Her pace quickened until she found that she was sprinting through the halls and out into the snowy field. Soon she was running through the forest, out and around the mountains to find the new place where she had placed the egg after Kathair’s warning. She needed some time alone to clear her head. When she finally arrived at the secret location, she dropped to her knees.

The egg was gone.

Kyra looked all around. She was in a valley several miles to the south of the forest where she had seen the egg first. It had taken her a long time to move it here, and she needed the assistance of magic to get it done without damaging the egg or cooling it too much. Now it was gone, and there was no way to know what had taken it. It was no animal, she knew that much. She had placed it in a large depression beneath a fallen oak tree. She had made sure to encase it with spells and wards that would keep animals away from it.

She searched frantically but it was nowhere to be seen. After a while she gave up the search and sat upon the fallen oak log in disbelief. That was when she heard the music. It was a sweet melody of high-pitched notes flowing upon the wind like a gentle butterfly. She looked around, but saw nobody there. She moved into the growth of evergreen trees, sliding between the closest branches and boughs and uncovering something in the middle of the trees she had never seen before.

A strange creature sat upon a rock playing a set of pipes. Its hands were like those of a human’s, with nimble fingers working the panpipes quickly and accurately. The creature wore no shirt, for it was covered in thick, shiny black fur. It had pointy ears that flicked to each side as she approached. It looked up at her with golden eyes under a brow crowned with two thick, curled horns. It sat with one leg crossed over the other, its hoof dangling over the edge of the rock.

Kyra had found a satyr.

The satyr made a sound that seemed a mix of a grunt and a bleat. Then it spoke. “I have been expecting you,” the creature said.

“Who are you?” Kyra asked.

The satyr slipped his panpipes into a small satchel at his left hip, and then stood from the rock. He held out his right hand and a large, gnarled staff appeared in it. “That is why I wanted to see you,” the satyr said. “Most humans would ask
what
I am, but you asked
who
I am. You are a rare person indeed, just as I thought.” The satyr bowed graciously, flourishing his left hand out to the side and holding onto his staff with his right. When he rose upright he introduced himself. “I am Njar Somoricliar!”

“And what do you want with me?” Kyra asked.

The satyr positioned his staff in front of him and grasped it with both hands so as to lean upon it slightly. His golden eyes locked with Kyra’s eyes as he spoke. “I wish to inquire why you are harboring a dragon egg. Surely you must know how dangerous a dragon is.”

“You are not from Kuldiga Academy, so who are you to ask me what my intentions are?” Kyra replied.

“I am the chief of a small clan of satyrs. I seek balance, as do my brothers and sisters. A dragon is a very dangerous creature, and if given the chance, it may disrupt the balance in the world.”

“Can’t every creature disrupt balance?” Kyra asked

Njar raised his hand and grunted. “Not in the way that a dragon might. For I am not talking about petty violence, or a simple nuisance. The danger that a dragon possesses is far-reaching, and possibly immeasurable in scope. You may not know this, but a dragon is a creature not originally from this world.”

“I have read much on the subject,” Kyra rebutted. “The dragons may technically be categorized as creatures not of this world, but the seven ancients were given permission to promulgate the dragon kind on Terramyr when the world was first formed by Icadion and the Old Gods.”

“Interesting,” Njar said. “And from where does your love of knowledge come from?” The satyr swept his arm around as if to indicate others around them, despite the fact that they were alone in the glade. “It is rare to meet a human, let alone a youngling, who can tell me the true origin of the dragons.” She was about to answer, but the satyr smiled and its golden eyes twinkled as he continued on for her. “I’m sorry, I should have explained that was a rhetorical question. For I know who you are, and I know from whence you came. I have seen you in visions granted to me by the Pools of Fate. In truth, I also understand why you keep the egg.”

Kyra shook her head, she couldn’t believe that he would know why she was keeping the egg. “You know?”

The satyr nodded, and his smile widened. “I understand, though I believe your motivation to be misguided. That is why I have come. I am here to show you what a dragon will become in this land. I warn you now, that it will not be easy to watch and learn the things that I have show you, but it is necessary. If I am to protect the balance, then you must understand.”

“Where’s the egg?” Kyra pressed.

Njar turned to the rock he had been sitting upon and tapped it twice with his staff. In an instant a ring of golden light enveloped the rock and turned it into a translucent object, revealing that the egg was safely kept within the boulder.

“Get it out of there! It needs warmth.”

The satyr held up his hand and Kyra felt a strong force hold her in place. “I cannot allow the egg to hatch. If you will trust me, I will show you why. As a sign of good faith, I promise that the egg will be safe here till I have shown you all that I have to show you.” The satyr tapped the boulder again and the same light went in reverse over its surface, returning it to its original state and hiding the egg inside.

“Let me go,” Kyra said as she struggled against the satyr’s magic.

“If I let you go, will you come with me to see what I have to show you?” Njar asked.

Kyra studied the strange creature’s golden eyes, searching for any sign of what his true intentions might be. Before she could answer, the force holding her in place faded away and she was again free to move. The satyr walked three paces away from the boulder and tapped the ground with his staff. The very air seemed to split apart as blinding white light ripped a hole through the fabric of time and space itself. Njar waived his left hand out and the rift grew to form a golden rimmed portal. Through it, Kyra could see a small village surrounded by green grasses, beautiful trees, and myriad wildflowers growing freely throughout the village.

“Come with me,” Njar said. “Not many humans are ever invited to Viverandon. However, I will take you there and show you the Pools of Fate so that you might understand the danger you are playing with.” When Kyra didn’t move, the satyr glanced to the rock then back to her. “I should explain, there is no magic you possess that can free the egg. If you do not come with me, there is no hope that you can ever save it.”

“And if I do go with you,” Kyra started, “what guarantee do I have that you will free the egg?”

The satyr studied her for a moment. It was hard for her to read the expression on his face. It was human enough, but there was a small snout and the nose was more animal-like than human. Still, she found herself locking onto his eyes trying to search for any sign of hope in those golden orbs.

“I am not one to lie,” the satyr said. “I genuinely doubt there is any possibility you could convince me to release the egg. My gesture is solely to help you understand why this must be.”

“Why not destroy the egg and then leave before I could find you?” Kyra asked.

“Because Kyra, I know you.”

Kyra blanched, she had not told him her name and she was quite certain she had never seen him at any point before in her life. If her mother had known him, she certainly would have mentioned it before. This creature was using magic to uncover things about her that she had not shared.

“You have grown fond of this dragon, but your affection is misguided and will only result in your sorrow. This egg does not contain the magnificent creature that you read about in the Chronicles of the Dragons of Kendualdern. The creature in this egg will either be born a monster, or he will die piece by piece until nothing remains of his soul and he is overcome by a terrible bloodlust like a rabid dog, or more appropriately like a crazed demon.”

Kyra shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”

The satyr nodded his head. “I knew you would not, and that is why I offer you the chance to come with me. If you worry for your safety you need not, the daughter of Lady Zana Caspen has no enemies in the home of the satyr clan. If you need further enticement, I also have a library that contains a book you may be interested in. Beyond that perhaps I can tell you about your future husband.”

“That has already been decided,” Kyra said dismissively.

“No,” the satyr said with a chuckle. “I do not speak of the man your father arranged for you to marry. I mean to tell you of the man you will marry.”

Kyra watched as the satyr disappeared through the portal. It didn’t take her long before she followed him. When she stepped through there was a warm breeze that seemed to pull her into the satyr’s village. As the portal closed behind her she looked around and saw that they were on the edge of the village. Njar motioned for her to follow him. She was confused at first as they walked away from the village, but as a large pool of water came into view she understood where they were going.

Njar instructed her to sit on a large stump near the bank of the green pool. He moved toward the water and touched it with the bottom of his staff. Ripples radiated out from that point, disrupting the smooth surface. A silvery fog began to rise from the water as if the staff had heated the entire pool to the evaporation point.

An image began to form in the mist. Great wings stretched out over the pool connected to a thick, muscular back supporting a long serpentine neck that held up a massive, horned head.

“Do not fear this,” the satyr instructed. “This is one of the ways in which I can peer into the threads of fate.”

“So this is the future?” Kyra asked.

The satyr shook his head. “No. I am going to show you the past. This is a friend of mine, or at least she was before she died. What do you know of Nagar’s Blight?”

“I heard that it was a powerful spell once use to try and control man and beast within the Middle Kingdom,” Kyra answered. “It led to the battle of Hamath Valley. There was a great war between man and dragon with legions of each on either side of the battle. A great wizard was able to counter Nagar’s Blight and the evil dragons and men were destroyed.”

“Not quite,” Njar said. “In reality, the curse lives on and it corrupts every dragon that lives within the Middle Kingdom. Some the curse corrupts sooner, and others are stronger and can resist its powers for many years, but eventually they all succumb to it. Perhaps it would be easier for you to watch.”

Kyra sat quietly as the dragon form in the mist in front of her flew through the air and landed in a town of humans and seemed to be living among them. Out of the mist formed houses and people and shops. Kyra watched intently as the dragon spent day after day, even months with the humans. She watched as the dragon used its power to help the people in the village, finding lost animals for shepherds and protecting flocks from predators. One time the dragon even repelled a group of marauders that came to the town. Kyra was about to ask what the point of all this was, but then she noticed a change in the dragon. A dark tendril reached out through the sky, stretched into the dragon’s heart, and then coiled around it. The dragon became sick and angry, occasionally snapping and flaring its fire at those around it. Knowing that it was sick, the dragon flew away and left the humans alone. It went into the mountains and deposited a single egg and nest of rocks in a small depression upon a hill nestled between two mountains. Kyra then realized that the egg she had found had been laid by this dragon that she was watching now. The dragon tried to stay with the egg, but its illness addled its mind and turned it feryl. The beast flew back to the south and laid waste to the town that it had once lived in. Every building was burnt to the ground, and every living soul, both human and animal, was killed. The dragon then continued south into the borderlands, killing orc and human alike as it continued its way along its bloody path.

The next scene showed several groups of dragon slayers attacking the crazed beast. She fought well, killing three of the dragon slayers before her wing was damaged so that she could no longer fly. The dragon slayers overwhelmed her, and continued to hack her down bit by bit until she succumbed to her wounds and died.

Njar waved his hand and the mist dissipated, sinking back into the green pool. “If there were any in the Middle Kingdom who wish to see the egg you found thrive, it would be me. However, I know the truth of the curse. Liloriel was one of the strongest dragons to ever live in the Middle Kingdom. She was the last to succumb to the curse. She lived long before the battle at Hamath Valley, and fought alongside Allun Rha, the great human wizard you spoke of. As other dragons with lesser willpower succumbed to Nagar’s Blight, she helped to bring down each and every maddened dragon. Sadly this included her mate, Pendriad. He was not shown in this, because it was not necessary.” The satyr went to wipe a tear from his left eye and sniffled as he looked down to the ground. “Pendriad hatched here in Viverandon some two thousand years ago. He taught my great-grandfather how to use the Pools of Fate. Afterward he taught my grandfather, my father, and then me.

“I pleaded with him not to leave. There is a special grove here that filters the curse out. He would not heed my warning. He said it was better for him to live on the mainland, at the southern border of the Middle Kingdom. He took his mate, and they had one final egg. Shortly thereafter, Pendriad succumbed to the curse and went mad. It was Liloriel and I who killed him. I trust you will forgive me if I do not show you that part of my life in the Pools of Fate. I hope it will suffice to show you what I have already shown.”