The Chronicles of Lumineia: Book 02 - The Gathering (35 page)

“It’s OK girl,”
he said, patting her flank. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

A snarl in reply
left no doubt that she would remain at his side. He rubbed his cold fingers
inside his gloves, grateful for her presence. Somewhere in the dangerous climb,
he’d come to think of her as a friend—a thought he hoped was reciprocated now
that they had reached the dragon’s lair. The change had been subtle, but
Tigraes now sat on her haunches closer to him than before, and also seemed more
patient. Perhaps she had doubted that he would make it this far.

He sighed, and
realized his voice sounded hoarse from the wind. “Well, let’s go see what's in
there.”

Tigraes padded
forward, her back as tall as Taryn’s shoulder, and Taryn stepped into the large
cave behind her. On silent steps the two of them followed the massive winding
corridor as it wound into the cliff. After a few minutes, the twisting and
turning killed the wind and darkened the view. The silence and the ice tunnel
caused every sound to be amplified, and Taryn cringed each time he scuffed a
boot.

Turning one
last time, Taryn stopped as he saw a light further down the tunnel. Slowing, he
slid to the wall and ducked under a large overhang that would allow him to
observe without being seen. Tigraes glided next to him, filling the rest of the
space.

Fifty feet
ahead of them the corridor turned right, and whatever was around the corner
caused light to extend onto the end of the tunnel. The light didn’t flicker, so
it didn’t come from a fire, so that left magic. Frowning at the implications of
that, he slid out of his hide and followed the wall to the end. Stopping a few
inches from the corner, Taryn eased his head out to take a quick look.

Around the
corner, the tunnel opened into a tremendous cavern at least half the height of
the Giant’s Shelf. In one corner he saw the biggest beast he’d ever seen, the
white dragon Israke, sleeping. The tunnel they were in would have barely fit
the creature if he tried to leave by that route. Enormous white wings folded
neatly onto his back, while his tremendous wedge-shaped head lay outstretched,
revealing two enormous horns that curved back from the top of its skull.

Somewhere in
Taryn’s mind, a tactical voice told him to check the rest of the room, and he
managed to wrench his eyes from the dragon to examine the chamber. A quick scan
revealed several oddities that could not be explained. The huge space was lit
by several large glowing orbs, similar to the fireless torches that he had seen
in Azertorn. They cast a bluish light, and allowed him to see the rest of the
chamber.

He’d heard
numerous tales that described dragon lairs, and at some point they always
included piles of gold and jewels. But from his vantage point, he could see no
such valuables. Instead, he saw that the cavernous space had four sections. Israke’s
entire form dominated one corner, but the other three seemed out of place in
the home of a dragon.

One corner
contained numerous racks of weapons. Swords, staffs, shields, spears, and any
other weapon he had ever seen, including some he hadn’t, were placed along
frost covered beams. Many of them glimmered with hidden magic, and Taryn found
himself wondering where the dragon had gotten them. Glancing back at the hilts
of his own swords he guessed the unsettling answer.

Looking past
the weapons, Taryn saw what could only be described as a library. Row upon row
of bookshelves were filled with leather bound books of every size and shape.
The library seemed so out of place that he looked back and forth between the
dragon and the store of knowledge in confusion.

No ready
answer presented itself, so he eased himself out of the wall a few more inches
to see the nearest section of the cavern. His eyebrows shot up as he saw a
house in the last corner. Complete with thatched roof and shuttered windows,
the house in the corner of the dragon’s home sprawled over a large area. The
main house looked ancient, but several additions appeared newer.

His gaze on
the residence, Taryn’s curiosity got the best of him. He slid out into the corridor
and worked his way down the tunnel. After each silent step he looked at the
dragon to see if there was a response, but no movement caused him any alarm. In
moments he stood at the front door. Trying the knob, he found it to be
unlocked, and started to ease it open.

The resulting
protest from the frozen hinges caused his heart to thunder in his ears as the
sound echoed throughout the cavern. Taryn whirled, his eyes snapping to the
dragon as he held his breath and waited. For several seconds he froze, trying to
control his fear, but Israke didn’t move so he turned back to the house. He bit
his lip in thought. The door’s hinges were frozen, so there was no way he could
open it without making another sound. He’d been lucky on the first attempt, but
didn’t want to risk his life on a second.

A furred body
rubbed against his and he turned to see Tigraes looking at him. Dropping off
the porch, the tigron led Taryn around the corner of the house and to an open
window.

Smiling, he
rubbed the cat’s large head in gratitude, and then slid into the house.
Although dim, he managed to make out the small living room that he had entered.
Conscious of the time and place, Taryn searched the house for any sign of life,
but found none. Returning to the window, he realized that the only one with the
answers was the enormous white dragon.

It was time to
wake him.

Exiting the
house, he considered his options for several seconds before settling on one of
them. Boldness might cause the dragon to pause long enough, so he gathered
every bit of his courage. Striding forward, he’d just passed the center when
everything changed.

“Did you like
my house, Taryn Elseerian?” a deep rumbling said. Then the swirling orbs of Israke’s
eyes snapped opened and his head rose off the floor.

Taryn
swallowed against the sight of the fully alert dragon, but his question
penetrated his mind enough to force him to think.
His
house?

“How do you
know my name?” Taryn asked, hoping his voice sounded even.

The dragon
chuckled, a deep rasp that reverberated around the chamber with more menace
than humor. “I knew you would be coming a long time ago.”

My mother
came here too
? Taryn thought, but before he could ask Israke continued.

“I have been
waiting ten thousand years for you to visit my home,” Israke said.

Taryn shook
his head, trying to comprehend the statement, but the huge white dragon
chuckled again. “Perhaps it would be best if I start from the beginning.”

Taryn opened
his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Before his eyes the white dragon’s
form had begun to shift. Wings were drawn into the body, long legs and neck
followed. Shrinking fast, the dragon became smaller and smaller, and within
seconds changed into a very, very old man dressed in a thin robe.

Then it
clicked in Taryn’s mind. “You’re a Joreia!”

The ancient
man coughed, and laughed. “
Truly one
, as the druids call it, yes.”

“But I thought
dragons were sentient and didn’t bond with druids,” Taryn said, too surprised
to voice any of the questions he’d come to ask.

The old man
laughed again, and then shuffled forward, wincing, “You are the seventh to ever
know, my boy—the first being the Oracle of my time. She was a smart one she
was, and the only woman I ever loved.”

“But—”

The man raised
a hand to forestall any more questions. “Help me get to my house? It’s always
hard to change into a human from the strength of a dragon, especially when a
human feels the cold! Oh, and bring your cat in as well. I am sure she would
like to feel some warmth.”

Taryn set
aside his questions and bounded forward to place his cloak around the tiny
man’s shoulders. Biting his lip against the torrent of thoughts threatening to
come out, he waited until they were inside the house and he’d started a blazing
fire in the hearth. Finding some blankets nearby, he placed them on a rack near
the fire to warm.

“Put some tea
on, would you?” the old man asked. “You should find it in the kitchen next to
the pile of ice blocks for water.”

Taryn obediently
fetched a pot and placed the ice inside it. Then he hung the container over the
fire. Returning a moment later he added the tea leaves and settled into a chair.

The man seemed
content to wait for the tea and had leaned back in his chair with his eyes
closed. Sighing at the delay, Taryn took the opportunity to study the man.

Bald except
for a ring of stray white hair, he more than made up for it with the snowy
beard. His skin appeared wrinkled from head to toe, and was white almost to the
point of being translucent. He also spoke with an odd accent, like the language
of common was not his native tongue.

When the tea
was ready, Taryn filled a mug for the man and placed the warm blankets onto the
man's lap. Nodding at Taryn in gratitude, he settled deeper into his cushioned
chair with a sigh. Then he took a sip of his tea and smiled. “That’s excellent
my friend, thank you.”

Fixing Taryn
with eyes of bright blue that gave no hint to his age, he said, “Let me tell my
tale, and then if you have any more questions, you may feel free to ask."

Taryn nodded, and
did his best to contain his curiosity. After another sip of tea the man began.

“My name is
Rake, and I was born just over ten thousand years ago in what was then the only
human kingdom. I was raised near the elven forests of Orláknia and quickly
found that I could communicate with animals. As was the custom, I was sent to
live with the druids. Although the druid people only had a few villages then,
they knew how to teach me until I was ready to summon my Joré.” His eyes lit up
as he talked about the days preceding his joining.

“When I entered
the forest to summon my Joré, many speculated about which animal I would join
with, for I possessed a rare gift to speak to
any
animal, large or
small. You cannot imagine my surprise when a young white dragon answered my
call. Isray, he said his name was, and he was nearly as young as I was.

“After our
joining, I knew that I could never return to my village or my home in the human
kingdom. Dragons were greatly feared, even among the druids, and my joining
would have been perceived as an abomination.

“Instead we
traveled north, and Isray flew me over the dwarven mountains. We never stopped
moving, for the few times we found a place to call home, someone showed up to
slay the dragon and take its treasure. Young as Isray was, he was small, barely
topping thirty feet, and was vulnerable.

“One such
time, a group of rock trolls, led by a bloodthirsty clan leader found us. They
were more than a match for us, and it appeared that I would lose my Joré. I
told him to flee, but he would not. During the desperate battle, a group of
them managed to tackle him to the floor, and tried to remove his head with an
axe.

“In that
moment, I wished with all my heart that I could be the one killed, and not my
friend, and in that instant we became one. We did not learn this until much
later, but a joining between a sentient being and a druid releases an extremely
powerful burst of magic. In our case, this froze everything within a thousand
yards.

“From then on
we became Israke, a Joreia.” The man paused to take a sip of his tea and Taryn
realized he’d been lost in the story. Standing, he refilled the old man’s mug
and allowed him to continue, smiling as the ancient druid absently stroked the neck
of the tigron at his side.

“After that I
flew wherever I wanted, changing to human form at will, and for a while we
lived the good life.” He paused, sighing, and for the first time appeared
serious. “One day I was relaxing in a tavern somewhere in the south, when a
beautiful young elf entered the room. Now, I wasn’t that far from the elven
forests, so that was not uncommon, but this elf walked right up and took the
seat at my side. She peered at me and asked, ‘How is life as a white dragon?’”

Rake laughed
at the memory. “I nearly fell out of my chair, and without answering I ran from
the tavern. She followed me and then told me she was the Oracle, and that she
needed my help. She was always so . . .
intense
, and I couldn’t resist
her passion. For the next few months I helped her search for the one that would
stop the invasion of Draeken, Lakonus.”

“What happened
to him after he fought Draeken?” Taryn interrupted, and Rake looked at him in
disapproval.

“I’ll get
there,” he said, drinking more tea before continuing. “Lakonus was a good man,
part elf, and as far as we knew, part dwarf. By the time we found him, the war
had begun, and that vile army had already crossed most of the south. I flew the
Oracle and Lakonus to Xshaltheria to confront Draeken. I fought two reds in the
sky while the Oracle defended the ground. Because my mind was not entirely
dragon, I was smart enough to defeat both of the red dragons, but caught this
as a souvenir.”

Rake raised
his cloak to reveal a burn scar that ran from under his arm, down his whole
side. “Believe me it looked worse in dragon form.” He chuckled to himself, his
eyes sparkling. “From the sky I looked down and saw the last few moments of
Lakonus’s battle.”

Taryn leaned
forward, hanging on every word as the story reached the point he wanted to
hear.

“In a perfect circle
of stone surrounded by the lava of the volcano, Lakonus fought . . . himself.
It was a flawless replica, but fought like a mirror. Every move he made, the
other duplicated. I couldn’t even tell which was which. Needless to say I dived
down to see if I could help, but the hole above the cavern was protected by
magic I could not penetrate, no doubt placed there to keep Draeken in.”