“What?” he asked not knowing why I was staring agape.
“Oh dear,” exclaimed the woman as she looked at him, “did you forget that magic doesn’t keep when one’s asleep?”
“My face?” The boy fretted with concern as he felt for his nose and ears with the tips of his fingers.
“Nuuk, no need to play the fool!” the old woman reassured him as he pulled a corner of the blanket to cover his face.
He calmed from his agitated state and looked at me. “I am Nuuk!” he said waving his hand at me.
This time I could count, clear as day, his four fingers.
“I’m an Iprorim of Grora. You might know my kind by a different name; the imps.”
“And something tells me you already know who I am.” The woman lifted her brows with a quirky expression not giving me time to make much sense. “Whoever owns a token must have heard about me at some point in their life, am I right?” She winked.
I had convinced myself that the dragon was part of a dream but at this point I was not so sure. Now, an imp was waving his four-fingered hand at me and a fictional witch was winking with joyfulness.
“Naghnatë?” I dimly asked, holding off the excitement that was building inside my stomach.
She nodded and smiled. “That I am and have always been.”
I jumped to my feet and took a better look at her and then at the imp. I did not know what to ask first.
Foolishly, the most irrelevant question came out before I reflected on it, “Are you really three hundred years old?”
“Hehha,” She let out a wicked laugh. “I am indeed!”
I was astounded and disordered by such an encounter, yet delighted beyond words.
“I was looking for you! My grandmother told me you lived in Velkeri, that would have been my very next place to visit –”
“Hold your horses, master Lorian!” she interrupted. “All in due time. Velkeri you say? I haven’t lived there for ages and I doubt you would have been able to find me, were it not for fate itself and these two brave souls!” She pointed her wrinkled hand at Nuuk.
“Two?” I asked bemused. “The dragon was real then? Is it at your service?”
“Firstly, and most importantly, he not it. Don’t ever let any of the mighty creatures hear you say it!” Her gaze turned serious. “And secondly, no; Drakhahouls are free creatures, they do not follow anyone nor go anywhere, unless they decide so. Alas, you aren’t completely wrong; there is one dragon at the service of a human, and that is because that human happens to be a very powerful wizard. The dragon is trapped, against his will and we are going to free him!”
“And where is the dragon now? Is he gone?” I totally ignored her revelation, impatient to see the Drakhahoul in the daylight.
“He went hunting, master Lorian, and is probably on his way back. He departed early to avoid being seen by people. It’s always better to keep things as they were, for obvious reasons!” the imp explained.
It now came to me why he had been so eager to whisper his apology, the previous night.
“According to Felduror that is!” added Naghnatë with a stinging tone, “however, we do not want to keep things as they are, do we now? We want every human to be able to see things as they really are, not to remain as ignorant as goats. Yet I agree, for the time being it’s better to be patient.”
There was a trace of anger upon her face she could not hide. Subtly, and nervously, she was clawing her thin fingers, opening and closing them into a knotted fist.
A sudden realisation disrupted my absorbed examination; I had forgotten about Firebreath and the bear. With a leap I jumped to my feet hurting my knee in the process.
“Where’s my horse? Where’s the bear?” I clasped my knee trying to rub the pain away.
“He’s well taken care of! Nuuk would have been very sad, had we left your horse unprotected for the night,” she replied.
“I’ve tethered him at the foot of the mountain and made sure he had food and water aplenty.” The imp appeared satisfied.
“Now, let me see that knee of yours!” the old woman demanded as she dried her hands on her ragged apron.
She took a chair and told me to sit on it while she knelt to take a better look. With a gentle hand-patting, she started feeling my left knee’s deformity. After few moments, she lifted the leg of my trousers and inspected all around the knee cap. With short and determined movements, she gently twisted my leg from side to side mumbling something. It felt like a soft chanting of her thin lips, which lulled me into lessening the tension of my body.
“Auww!” I bellowed as she twisted my leg with a snap.
The violent and sudden screw brought tears to my eyes and I pushed her cold hands away, trying to massage my knee in consolation. While stroking it, I could feel with the inside of my palms less protuberant than before. But the pain did not cease. I lowered the trouser leg back and blinked away my tears.
“I cannot do much more I am afraid, young Lorian! That is a foul misshapenness. What birth had given I cannot mend easily without magic. And I do not use magic to heal anyone,” she said, lifting herself up.
I could tell something was bothering her, yet the pain in my knee distracted me. Only when it lessened in intensity did I retrieve my courage and lift myself up.
I was impressed. The difference in my posture was obvious and immediate; I was standing straighter than ever before and I felt I could lean more to the affected side. Not able to contain my surprise I let out a loud exultation of joy. I started taking steps in the small space and realised my improved stability and strength. I could even balance my entire body-weight on the left leg.
“What did you do to make it heal?” I asked, smiling.
“Do not get your hopes too high, lad!” she replied. “It can return as it was with the smallest sprain. The knee did not fully grow properly in young age and it will be hard for it to mend now. This fix can last a while, though if you injure it most certainly it will return as it was.”
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I feel I can walk properly now.” I glanced at my knees and compared them.
The deformation was still there, but the much-improved stride made me happier beyond words, and grateful for what she had done.
“I can’t wait to tell Nana!” I exclaimed pacing back and forth vigorously, enlivened with new confidence.
The imp and the witch exchanged an odd look and I found myself staring at his curious face.
“I suppose you would like to return to your village, Lorian, but I do not think it’s wise.” Her words crushed my enthusiasm and inspection. “We must depart as soon as this afternoon, there is no time to waste!”
“We?” I exclaimed. “What has any of this to do with me?”
“I hoped you’d like to become part of the Order, master Lorian!” she added with a serious stare. “We need all the help we can muster, especially if that help happens to come from one who has wielded magic before.”
“What? Me, magic?” I almost started laughing, were it not for the flashes of memory that unfolded before my eyes.
Unwillingly, I found myself again in the same foggy vision. My voice rang slow, my arms moved slower yet with deadly precision; a black bear was leaping towards me, towards its end.
“Can’t you see?” Naghnatë came closer, “there is no escaping fate. It was because of it that we all met, I am certain of this. Magic wielders are supposed to gather again.”
The imp craned his head to see my face better.
“I can think of no token-holder this young, who can perform that well without proper training! Some fail with years of practice, though you have your grandfather’s blood running through your veins and that is important.” Her voice was gentler now.
“How do you know about my grandfather? How do you know anything about my family?” I avidly pushed away the thoughts of the family I barely knew.
“I said I haven’t lived in Velkeri in a long time, not that I cannot remember its people! I knew ev
erything about Dhereki and the stag and prayed to the skies that he was the one to bring hope to our long-lost cause. Yet, fate didn’t provide that. And I, myself, wasn’t probably ready either. So I’ve waited, keen to see if your father was supposed to take on his path. Inauspiciously, fate had a say in that too.” She paused, almost waiting for my tears to start falling.
But I didn’t want to cry, not for this. For a moment I thought I hated her; her words cut sharp and deep. I considered I had made my peace a long time ago with my unknown past, though her words reawakened the pain just as easily as cleaning a dusty blade with a single swipe of a hand. I only hoped my face did not betray the sorrow that was swollen in my neck and chest.
“I apologise, child. It was not my intention to bring back sad memories.”
“It’s all fine, I am well!” I lied and cleared my throat with a fake cough, a good opportunity to blink the surfacing tears from my eyes.
“There must be a reason why everything has happened the way it has,” Naghnatë tried to offer consolation, “and sooner or later you’ll realise that things go always as they should, and seldom as we want them.”
With an improved smile I nodded my agreement. She was right, after all, none of this was her fault.
“I could see now what I could have done better, what I should have done, yet nothing can change how things went. What we can change instead, is what lies ahead!”
“Indeed.” Nuuk seemed equally convinced by her words.
“How did you know about me? Did you know anything about the fire in Sallncoln?” I asked flatly.
“I only sensed it when it had occurred. That is the reason I ventured this way. But I have been waiting for such an opportunity to meet you, for many months now.” She placed a hand on my shoulder.
I looked at her hand and even if my instinct was to jerk away, I did not do it.
“Less than two years ago, everything started to move in the right direction for me. Things you could not comprehend, neither of you could,” she glanced at the imp for a moment, “and ever since, I have stopped searching for the stones and dedicated myself to finding magic-wielders. You’d be surprise to know there weren’t any, not in the free lands at least, and not until now, when I have met you and Nuuk. A happy, fortuitous event allowed us to finally be joined; were it not for the fire, as wrong as it was, I wouldn’t have sensed your spell, nor the imp’s, and we wouldn’t be here!”
The imp appeared as marvelled and confused as me, perhaps a bit more restored with an optimistic sparkle in his eyes.
We stood in silence for a moment, contemplating and digesting what Naghnatë said when a thudding started gaining in intensity.
“Ghaeloden is back!” Before I said a thing, the imp darted through the door barefoot.
A tremor started picking up in my legs and they felt less stable. I was certain that my knee was not to blame this time.
The Drakhahoul was coming from the mountain side, following the ridge to avoid being seen. His powerful wings moved the snow from the tip of the mountain in swirling clouds of mist making him look magnificent. Dangerous yet astonishingly beautiful, I could not take my eyes off him. His red scales sparkled brighter with the sun rays, that on the top of the mountain crests, was at its highest intensity in the cold morning.
With a couple of strong strokes of his long wings Ghaeloden tripled in size. The sun was eclipsed by his massive body, his elongated shape darkened and distorted against the sky. For a moment we found ourselves in complete shadow where we could appreciate the light that filtered through his transparent membranes, revealing a throng of scarlet veins. My eyes teared in the powerful gust of cold air and I felt blinded by the sunlight when he alighted his wings.
Once on the ground, the dragon concluded his strain with a long exhale that turned into a suffused growl. Its vibrant potency made small rocks tremor under the layer of snow.
I was startled, awestruck; my mouth wide opened and my heartbeat almost non-existent. What I failed to see at night, during the day surpassed all my wildest dreams and nightmares. The beast was astoundingly marvellous and big. His long, spiked-tail moved unceasingly, vibrating through the air like a whip. His entire body was covered in hard and glistening scales that ranged from dark blood-red to bright red and orange fire-flames. Against the blue of the sky, a mere reflection bounced on and about his body making his sheen appear like polished metal. Last night, in the lack of daylight I had the impression that his eyes were rather big, but now I could see that they were relatively small for the disproportionate size of his horned-head. They were buried deep inside his thick scaled brows.
The need to swallow and breathe made me temporarily blink and return my posture to normal, only to regain my daft look of reverence. Such was the state of admiration in which I found myself, that I briefly considered that being eaten alive, or burnt to ashes by such a mighty creature, could be one of the most honourable ends one could meet.
Could it be that the creature was imperceptibly using its glamour on my feverish and weak mind? My question instantly drew my attention to his sharp fangs, some of which were covered with blood stains, fur and small chunks of gore. The vision made me shiver and I nervously swallowed again, shifting my view from the peculiar sight.
“Good morning, young Lorian. I do hope you won’t faint this time!” The dragon’s voice sounded surreal to me as the tip of his long tail slowly brushed against my leg.
I felt I could not move; a dragon had spoken to me.
“I hope you had a peaceful night. We have a long journey ahead of us!” he said.
“I…” I quivered, slowly stepping aside afraid and at a loss for words. “… I cannot come. My family needs me, I must return to Sallncoln, master Ghaeloden-Three-Horns. Elmira needs me.” I bowed my head, my words trailing to whispers.
“Ghaeloden will suffice,” he corrected me, “and, what will you do if the wizard decides to send one of his dragons again?” He now watched the witch and the imp. “I’ve seen the fire from the air and I can confirm it is not manmade; I can almost scent a faint dragon-trail. Do you think your people will be able to fight a full-grown Drakhahoul?”
Unexpectedly, his affirmation felt like a splinter removed from under the skin. It relieved me to know at least what had happened to my village. Even if many had seen the signs, who would have had the courage to try and convince others of what had truly occurred?
Yet, another matter concerned me; I could not believe there could be bigger beasts than the one that was standing in front of me. “Aren’t you a full-grown dragon?”
Ghaeloden seemed amused by my words. “I’m way short of completing half a full cycle, master Lorian. And a cycle is made by a full hundred years in human days. There are Drakhahouls that reached ten cycles and they never stopped growing during that time. I am just a youngling compared to our true king!” A measure of pride poured from his face.
“Master Ghaeloden, Belrug-The-Black is merely two hundred and sixty years of age,” the imp added with some confusion, “surely he is bigger, but I reckon –”
“I meant our true king, Nuuk, Yrsidir-Two-Tails!” the dragon interrupted with a thundering voice, tilting his big head to have a better view of the tiny creature.
“Let’s not lose the point of our mission here!” intervened the witch, perceiving just like me the wrath in the dragon’s eyes. “We all agree that things are not as they should be and there is only one thing to do about it! The question is,” and she turned her attention towards me, “if our new friend agrees to come with us. Or perhaps he considers it is better to waste his talent on tending sheep and cultivating crops?”
Her question brought to mind my two brothers and my grandmother, and the poor state my absence had probably delivered them to. I was really keen to tell them what I had found out and accomplished on my own, even if I suspected no one would believe me except, perhaps, Nana. Being able to walk straighter now was almost as important as having defeated the bear or having seen and spoken to a drago
n and an imp.
“What help could I be? I know nothing and my slaughter of the bear I cannot even recall properly!”
Oh, Elmira. Where are you? If you could only be here to see what I am seeing and hear what I am hearing.
Everything was happening so fast. I had seen a dragon and had met the oldest woman alive, a witch nonetheless. The odd-looking creature alone, the Iprorim, must be worth a thousand songs and praises back in Sallncoln. And still, I could not tell what it all had to do with me.
I believed I knew a way to extricate myself from the situation. “I really need to take Firebreath back to them and at least let them have the bear’s fur, which will be of big support for the coming winter. Coin has never sufficed of late, especially now with that bloody fire which destroyed our stable and ruined part of our house. It would be a shame for that much meat and fur to go to waste!”
“Would you dare hope that you’re safe if you just return home? Would you rather wait for another fire to break out or a maddened beast to unleash its wrath? What if this time you don’t escape? You don’t strike me as someone who lost someone dear in that fire. If you had you’d definitely think more clearly,” the witch insisted in a harsh voice.
Her brazenness and disdainful tone made me angry to a point I wanted to scream. Instead, I only clenched my jaw, hard. Elmira was still gone, and I knew nothing of her or her mother. The same vivid emotion of anger and frustration suffused my body. Tears were closer and it took me an iron will of determination to turn them away, clasping my fists until my palms hurt with my buried fingernails.
Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1) Page 22