“Marvelous!” Jargon breathed in delight as they neared the spot where he would part with them. His home was located much closer to the center of the valley than Frawnden’s so he could respond to medical emergencies in a timelier manner.
“I can’t believe how well she speaks! And for only being about eighteen months old!” Jargon shook his head, his eyes sparkling in wonder at Stephania.
Frawnden was shocked speechless as they listened to snippets of the youngsters’ conversation.
They were telling each other about their lives up to this point.
“And he would visit me every day.” Stephania was speaking of the times the Dragon Palace’s Susokxoch had played with her. “He would bring me wittle swords to play with.” Her memory was nearly impeccable, and even Trojan was astonished.
“Sword fighting!” Trojan breathed in awe. “I bet that was fun.” His mind ran fast, already planning to get her a little sword so he could teach her.
Stephania tapped her heels against Trojan sides. “It was!”
After a few more turns in the road, they came to a simple but elegant log cabin type dwelling that Jargon called home.
While Trojan ran around with Stephania clinging to him happily, the two adults walked through the shady, blossoming trees that lined the walkway to Jargon’s house. On either side of the walkway, a large garden sprawled though the cleared out section of the woods. Many unique and rare plants grew here, for this was Jargon’s medical garden.
“You have quite the special child with you, my friend.” Jargon’s voice was nearly inaudible so as to not attract the attention of the children.
Frawnden nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, I do, Jargon.”
The black Centaur shook his head mournfully, his eyes sad. “I’m afraid though, that with such a good memory, every detail of her parent’s death and all that went on there will stay with her forever.” He shrugged, sighing heavily. “And who knows what that will do to her!” He speculated that the young girl would easily remember her encounter with Thaddeus and the Battle of the Prophecy, and he worried about how that would affect her young mind as she grew. However, he didn’t want to worry Frawnden with the extra details.
Frawnden frowned and kicked a rock. “Yes. I think you are right. I only hope that Aeron and I can do a sufficient job in raising her properly.”
Jargon placed a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you will.”
Bowing respectfully to her, he gently kissed her hand, and said, “Until I see you again, dear friend.” He paused before using the old courtesy, “May the suns smile upon your presence.”
“As do the stars sing upon yours.” The woman finished the saying with a smile and turned away before beckoning her children to her for their long journey home.
§
“Father! Father!” Trojan breathlessly burst through the doors of the large and stylish log cabin, which hugged the rocky side of the mountain.
Not hearing an answer, Trojan shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn’t sure where his father was—Frawnden hadn’t told him—but he knew that it would only be a while before the older Centaur came home.
Stephania, who had fallen asleep during the last few minutes of the journey, jerked awake at the noise. She blinked a few times before yawning and rubbing her eyes.
Gazing around at the new building she was in, the young girl was able to take in most of the beauty and appreciate it.
A large, Gaikuzh bear rug greeted them from the middle of the living space, its head facing toward the door with its mouth wide open, showing rows of sharp, terrifying teeth, as if silently protecting the house from any intruders. Mounted on the walls were the heads of many other wild animals, such as enormous wolves, bobcats, buck deer, moose, and other strange animals that lived in the mountain range around Trans-Falls.
Numerous pieces of comfortable and stylish Centaur furniture were arranged attractively around the room. Though the general theme color for the room was a dark brown, it was made cheery with the addition of intricate metal and glass lanterns, which hung from chains attached to the vaulted, wooden ceiling. The ceiling was cleverly adorned with flying buttresses, which were stained the same glossy, dark, red-brown color as the rest of the house.
Just past the living room was the dining room, with the rooms separated by two huge sliding doors. After walking into the fancy dining room, there were double-wide doors on the left wall that led to the spacious kitchen. On the wall that separated the living room and the kitchen was a lovely fireplace lined with rock from the surrounding mountainside.
Trotting through his home, Trojan searched for his father, but the adult Centaur was nowhere to be found.
The youth had raced home ahead of his mother when they had been about half a mile away; it would take Frawnden at her slow walking pace much longer to arrive.
Gently sliding Stephania off his back, he placed her on one of the couches.
Yawning and rubbing her eyes, the babe gazed at her brother with large eyes.
Trojan knelt, placing his elbows on the edge of the couch, and gazed in awe at the girl. It was still difficult for him to grasp that she only had two legs. He snuck a glance, feeling it almost intrusive to look. Her little feet with five small toes each were so odd and cute.
A broad grin swept across his face, and he stifled a chuckle.
“I’m going to teach you all sorts of things, Stephania.” He smiled dreamily, pondering about all the fun they were going to have together. He had dearly wished for a sibling, and it seemed like his dream had come true.
“Archery, sword fighting, swimming, watching the stars, playing Yu’jac …” The list went on and on until Stephania was slumbering quite happily on the comfortable chair.
Noticing this, Trojan abruptly stopped his banter and sneaked as quickly and quietly up the spiral staircase as he could.
The staircase led to the upper rooms, which were actually built in the mountainside; these rooms consisted of guest bedrooms, game rooms, safety bunkers, libraries, studies, and much more. There was even a second kitchen, in case it was needed.
Once had reached the loft-like balcony, he padded quietly to the left and slipped through the large door, entering the cozy cave-like section of the mountain home where guests usually stayed. Continuing further, he came to another door and slid it open. Now he was in the rugged tunnels and rooms of the mountain.
Galloping along the corridors, the boy came to a storage room dedicated to extra pillows, blankets, sheets, and other such bedding items.
Selecting the softest of the smaller blankets that he could find, Trojan grabbed his small bundle and galloped through the halls, only halting his pace when he came to the staircase in order to not wake Stephania up.
A relieved smile spread across his face at finding the child asleep right where he had left her. He quickly draped the blankets over her small body and tucked them carefully under her, watching with satisfaction as she sighed contently and a small smile curved her little, red lips.
Then jumping up onto the longest couch, Trojan curled his legs underneath him and leaned against one of the armrests to patiently await the arrival of either one of his parents.
Just as his own eyes were beginning to droop low, a deep voice announced his father’s presence behind the boy and near the staircase.
“Trojan! What are you doing here?”
Snapping wide awake and leaping off the couch, Trojan rushed to his father and gave the older Centaur a quick hug. It wasn’t in the least bit odd to find his father coming from the interior of the home, for the home was ridden with secret escape routes in case of an attack.
“Oh, Father!” The boy, though bursting with excitement, tried to be as quiet as possible. “Mother said that we could stay here with you for a long time!”
It had been a while since the family had been able to stay together for a long period of time. Aeron was gone most of the time either doing important tasks for the Tribe or leading them into battle. Frawnden was usually busy wit
h healing the members of her tribe. Because Frawnden was often needed daily at Trans-Falls, she and Trojan would often spend their time at Jargon’s house. Sometimes neither adult Centaur got to see each other or their own home for months at a time.
“Did she really?” Aeron’s deep, amused voice rang out loudly in the room, and Trojan was quick to respectfully quiet his father.
“Yes! Yes, she did!” Excitedly, he put his finger to his lips and “shhhhed” his father. “But, Father, please speak quietly. Stephania’s asleep, and I don’t want to wake her up. She looks so peaceful.”
At the name of his new daughter, Aeron’s handsome, battle-worn, and scarred face became solemn, though an unmistakable twinkle of elation sparked in his light blue eyes.
Aeron nodded and lowered his voice. “Thank you, son. I’ll speak quietly. Where’s your mother?” He was impatient to go and see his new child. He had always wished for a daughter, and the new addition to his family seemed to somehow make it complete. Ever since Roan … he shook his head, banishing the unwanted memory from his mind. Ever since that day, their family had seemed so small.
“Oh, Mother.” Trojan screwed up his face and waved his hand. “She should be here soon. She was going so slowly. I thought I was going to grow a beard in the time that it took to get home.”
Aeron chuckled and ruffled up his son’s hair. “Perhaps so, but remember, Trojan, fast and reckless doesn’t always get you where you need to be. Sometimes, it can be the exact opposite of helpful. Don’t ever criticize someone for their slow pace, lest you not pay attention to yourself and trip over your own path in life.”
Trojan bowed his head in slight embarrassment and humility. “Yes, Father. I will remember.”
“Good!” A broad grin spread across the father’s face and his son’s face reflected it.
Just then, the door opened and Frawnden quickly stepped inside, quietly shutting the door behind her. The basket on her right arm swung by her side, much the same as her sword that hung by her left hip. It was an odd combination to be both warrior and healer, but it was one Frawnden had always been fiercely proud of.
Aeron took the basket from her and placed it on a table, its contents of medicinal herbs and flowers adding to the home’s pleasant decoration. “Trojan told me that we would be able to stay home.”
Frawnden took her mate’s hands in hers and nodded excitedly. “Artigal told me we could spend the next six months together, pardoned from our duties, to spend time with Stephania!”
“Thank goodness. I think we really need it.” Aeron tenderly hugged Frawnden, and he could feel her nod against him.
After quickly kissing her mate, she carefully picked Stephania up. Cradling the small child in her arms, she walked to the rooms downstairs. “Trojan, why don’t you pick out one of the rooms for her?”
Trojan quickly galloped back and forth between the two empty rooms that were near his own and his parents’.
After a minute, he picked the room right beside his own that had a door connecting them through the closet.
After he let his mother know of his decision, she handed his sister to him, and turned to her mate. Smiles bloomed across all their faces.
The rest of the evening was spent in a hustled flurry as they worked together to prepare the room for the young girl. The joy that Stephania was bringing was already apparent, but the sorrow Artigal mentioned still hung over Aeron like a dark cloud.
Chapter 3
Artigal slid a hand under his ceremonial armor and peeled it off his chest. The metal hit the ground with a resounding ring.
He stared back at himself, solemn and unmoving in the reflective glass. His colorful eyes strayed to the reflection of his hand on his chest, and slowly moved it away.
His jaw tightened.
A black spot about the size of his fist crept through his veins just under his skin on the left side of his chest. It was small, almost innocuous, but Artigal knew its power.
A string of curses left his lips. It was a fatal wound. It could take years for it to kill him, but nonetheless, his time on Rasa now had an end.
A strange flutter stirred in his heart. My life is coming to an end. I am … mortal. Slowly, he turned away from the mirror, trying to wrap his head around the situation. How many lives had he lived on Rasa? Two thousand? Five thousand? He had stopped counting and stopped caring a thousand or more years ago. He had forgotten the thrills and joys of life. Each hundred years had only been as one. Seconds passed like rain—forgotten as soon as they landed on parched earth. But suddenly, he could count the years he had left. Suddenly, he was mortal again.
He staggered, leaning against the rough wood wall of the Gauyuyáwa for support. His heart pounded in his chest, and his head swam. Free. I will be free. Free from this life, these burdens, all this sorrow. I will go home. Tears sparkled in his shining eyes.
But a darkness settled as he remembered Stephania. He couldn’t die. Not yet. Not before he saw her grow and fulfill her destiny. He had to protect her—it was his duty. Aeron, Frawnden, and Trojan’s faces flashed before him, and his heart lurched. His teeth ground against each other. My … family. The distant memory of a beautiful, dark Centaur woman surfaced.
Come on, Athysios!
He could almost hear her again, almost feel her as she pulled him along.
I want to see the falls! The orchids will be in bloom.
Fresh tears ran down his face as he reached his empty hand out, grasping at air. Her eyes remained fixed in his mind, but now he wasn’t staring at her face; he was staring at Aeron’s and Trojan’s. They had her eyes. He clenched his fist and snarled. Athysios. The name rang in his head like an alarm bringing with it feelings and memories of a life he had buried thousands of years ago.
But through the thousands of years, she had come back to him in Aeron and Trojan, and he had taken them in as he had never had with any Centaurs since that lifetime so long ago. Through them and Stephania, he had found something to live for again. Would he really have to let all that go?
“No more!” He slammed his fist on the table next to him, his eyes blazing a fiery red. Viciously, he banished the memories from his mind. He had no time to grieve—no time to remember. He had to focus on his duties. Though he himself had been wounded, there was a chance Thaddeus had not been and was on his way, even now, to attack Trans-Falls to claim her.
Artigal straightened. Only one way would tell him for sure.
Searching through the many cabinets lining the thick walls, he found a small vial of what he was looking for—Awowfeya.
He popped open the container’s cork cap and breathed in the thick, almost sugary scent. Letting a single drop of the milky substance fall to his finger, he quickly capped the bottle with his free hand and shut the cabinet door.
He hesitated before saying the spell. Dabbling into memories was a low level form of magic most creatures could easily accomplish. Many creatures used this kind of magic to bask in the good parts of their lives or lessen the hurt of lost loved ones. But Artigal had never been one of them. He had spent thousands of years alive, none of which he wanted to remember or relive, and he had spent too much time burying the few parts of life he had cherished. It had taken him years to perfect the magic that kept his memories at bay. It was dangerous to dabble into his past. He had sworn against it, but now it seemed like he had no other choice.
Before he could change his mind, he let the spell tumble off his lips. The liquid on his finger lifted, hanging over his hand—a droplet suspended in space—before it burst into a swirling orb of crackling, white sparks. The magic that had been trapped in the physical form of that liquid pierced his mind, reaching far back into his memories.
Groaning, he sank to his knees. Faces, voices, smells, tastes, sounds, books, places, and homes he had pushed deep down exploded all around him, screaming at him, mocking him, and pushing forward from the depths of his soul. The pain was agonizing. But then a darkness spread through the memories—a single black thread p
ermeating evil. He grasped it and let it drag him from the abyss of his mind to the one memory he had been looking for …
Hooves thundered. Thorns tore into his skin. Red, blood-stained, white hair.
A tree disintegrated from acid crashed in front of him. He leapt over it, dodging the sizzling branches that fell around him.
Hot heavy breath stung his chest. His muscles burned with effort. Cries of mourning filled the air.
The pursuing dragon’s wings were loud, his breath spraying droplets of acid into the air. Its shadow barely flickered through the trees above as purple magic lit up the sky and lit the path in front of the Centaur.
His gasping breaths mixed with blurry eyes, stinging cuts, and mumbled prayers.
A purple vine grew out of the ground and tied itself around his hoof.
He fell to the ground, bruised, dirtied, battered.
The dragon roared and began to land.
The Centaur prayed. “If it is my time, then this is something worth dying for.” He readied the Ancient Magic.
But something was wrong.
The dragon was no longer landing, but was instead rising higher in the sky.
A loud, maniacal laugh rang out from the rider.
Using the pure Ancient Magic, the Centaur was able to hear the voices above him, and his blood froze in terror as he realized Thaddeus and Kyrell were no longer working alone. The traitor now had Corrupt Magic; he had been empowered by the evil and the Dark Lord. With the powerful magic’s help, he had figured out that the child wasn’t here and had traced her to her current location.
“Zuru!” The white Centaur reversed his course, straining to keep up with the dragon as it sped toward where Stephania was being taken.
“Zuru,” he cursed. “I’m getting old.” Artigal gasped and shook his head. His muscles burned with the exertion, but the Magic that flowed within him pushed him on, guiding him through the thick, dark forest.
Branches whipped his face and vines reached out to trip him.
He could hear the hair-raising screams grow louder ahead of him.
Child of the Dragon Prophecy Page 5