The next morning, Darius could hardly move. His muscles felt as if they’d been pounded, stretched, and ripped by some enormous giant. There was no need for Prydon to dump him from his cot to wake him as the soreness and unease from the events that occurred the night before induced a light sleep at best.
“Are you ready for another day?” Prydon stuck his nose through the window, grinning at Darius. “Shall I dump you out of bed?”
“No!” Darius said quickly. “No, thank you.” He stretched his arms. The pain that shot through his limbs as he raised them made him feel like an old plow that sat too long, rusted, stiff and struggling to turn its blades.
“Do you need assistance?”
“I’m not sure that would help, but if you have some strong beverage that would make the pain go away, that might be welcome.” Darius looked through the window at his friend with a devilish grin.
But it wasn’t only pain Darius wanted to squelch. His thoughts of Loklan and Klavon lingered. There was some connection between Loklan’s family and his own…but that life had been destroyed by Klavon, and only remnants of a shattered past were left behind. An unsettled knot rolled around in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps a strong drink would help that as well.
Prydon laughed. “I don’t believe that exists, at least not a drink appropriate for one so young. In any case, the stiffness will subside as you move around.”
Prydon was right. A drink would only mask his disquiet. He needed to focus on the task at hand. For the time being, he would place the incident with Loklan and his thoughts of Klavon in the back of his mind. There they would remain, still ever present and a motivation to do well in his lessons yet a shadow in the background, unable to hinder his progress.
By the time Darius reached the training field, the stiffness that earlier crippled his movements had somewhat eased. At least he didn’t look like an old man, struggling to walk without his cane. Nevertheless, he was determined not to land as he did the day before and have need of the pillow at lunchtime. No, he was determined to guard that vulnerable—and tender—part of his body.
As training progressed, he jumped, dodged, and made every possible attempt to defend himself. His body screamed in anguish, but Darius was acutely aware that the pain of being shot through the air and dumped to the ground would have been much worse. He was also acutely aware that with each passing day, more of Brandor could be at stake, and his pain in comparison to their loss was nothing.
He clenched his teeth, enduring the soreness until, as the morning progressed, the stiffness faded. The training was grueling, but he refused to complain. He would not be weak.
When lunchtime came, Prydon handed Darius a sandwich and held out the pillow.
Darius smiled, taking the sandwich. “I’m good,” he said as he declined the cushion. He sat down and tentatively tried to find some position that would not remind him of the day before. He shifted, winced, and shifted again.
Through slit eyes, Prydon grinned and handed Darius the pillow. With a sigh, Darius took the offering and sat with more comfort. Nibbling on his sandwich, he glanced at Loklan, who was barely visible at the edge of a group of trees. Darius thought Loklan offered a slight smile, but he couldn’t be sure as Loklan quickly turned his head and avoided Darius’s gaze.
“I’m quite certain he will say nothing,” said Prydon. “Barsovy can be very persuasive.”
“Prydon, tell me more about Loklan and his father, Norinar,” Darius said, turning his head back toward Prydon.
Prydon paused then began to speak as if his eyes were watching the past. “Loklan’s father and your own were close friends, neighboring villages. When Klavon attacked your father, echoes of the battle rang in Norinar’s town. There was nothing anyone could do, although they tried. A three day journey. By the time Norinar got there, it was over, and the land rained in ash and embers. The village lay in ruins and no one could be found.”
“No one? Were there no survivors? None at all?” asked Darius.
Prydon smiled. “You and your mother. I suppose there were others, but they would have long since scattered. I’m quite certain any who did survive, not wishing to attract Klavon’s attention, sought shelter where they could and remained in hiding, perhaps even to today.”
“Why in hiding? Klavon wasn’t after them.”
“Loyalties, even in a village protected by a wizard, are never certain. Knowing Klavon’s power and reach, no one would wish to invite his wrath and thus would remain silent. Should he have discovered any who survived, he would certainly seek them out and question them, perhaps even torture them, to discover your whereabouts.”
Darius couldn’t imagine an entire village gone.
“Norinar searched for days,” continued Prydon. “He never found your mother. No one even knew she had already given birth. Stories circulated, but since there was no sign of her—and you—they assumed that even if she had been able to escape the village, she surely had been lost to the harsh elements of winter or even harsher animals of the wild.”
“What about you? How does Loklan know you?”
Prydon’s head lowered, almost as if pain pulled it toward the ground. “Your father and I were also close friends. That is uncommon for most wizards. In fact, most, as your book concurs, believe we are dangerous and unpredictable. In any case, news of your father’s friendship and mine traveled far, much farther than Loklan’s village. So it would make sense that he would know of me.”
Darius thought back to the day they arrived and the expressions he witnessed as they passed through the valley. “Is that why everyone here seems so surprised to see you? To see a dragon?”
“Yes, my friend. That is exactly why.”
Barsovy appeared almost as Prydon spoke. “Prydon, I need to have a word with you.”
Darius finished his sandwich while the two walked to the edge of the alcove. He watched as Prydon shook his head and overheard something about not wanting to leave. Certainly Barsovy wasn’t talking about sending him away after all because of the fiasco concerning Loklan. Certainly he would be able to complete his training. He looked at the glove covering his hand and chided himself for his lack of control, his lost temper, and his childish response to this entire situation.
Prydon’s chest heaved as he released a resigned sigh, and Barsovy, with one last look at Darius, vanished.
Prydon hesitated then walked slowly back to Darius, so slowly that Darius wanted to scream out, “What?” But he didn’t. Instead he waited for what seemed an eternity for Prydon to return to the shade.
When Prydon finally sat once again next to Darius, he spoke quietly. “I must leave you for a while.”
“What? Why? Is it because of my hand?” Darius’s voice sounded like a siren, low at first and then becoming progressively louder. Beads of sweat formed across his forehead as concern gripped his mind. “I won’t take the glove off again. I thought he was going to give me another chance.”
“Calm down, Darius. You will stay and complete your training, but I must run an errand. I will be back. Three weeks. Perhaps a month.”
Darius should have felt relief. After all, he was staying. But the news of his friend’s departure…“You’re leaving me here? Alone?” Darius looked up at his friend.
“Do not think I am abandoning you. I assure you that if it was not of the utmost importance, I would not go.”
Darius’s heart dropped. “A month?” He thought of how long a month was. For an instant, he thought of how many lives could be lost in Brandor in that time. But that was quickly overwritten by thoughts of an entire month spent without Prydon by his side. He stared blankly at the ground beneath his feet.
Prydon nudged his shoulder. “You will be very busy, and it is necessary. Trust me.”
Darius turned his gaze to the rock where the small animal was hiding and said nothing. He waited for an explanation, but none came. A rumble shook the ground, and as wind churned dust and Darius shielded his eyes, his friend was gone.
That night, Dariu
s ate alone. He picked up a grilled chicken leg and took a small bite. The food sat still in his mouth, and he his eyes set vacantly on the horizon. Even as he attempted to fill his stomach, emptiness grew deeper in his thoughts. He blinked, finished chewing, and swallowed the meat. The food had always been exquisitely prepared, flavors melting in his mouth, but tonight, he tasted nothing. The sun was setting with deep reds and golds, and he thought of Prydon somewhere beyond the borders of this now quiet valley. You are not alone. He would hold on to those words, but at the moment they were of little consolation.
In all his time growing up in Brandor, he had no friends, so he was used to being alone. Yes, his mother and Mr. Athus were always there for him, but those were the relationships of a mother and son, a mentor and student. Although he confided in them to a certain extent, it wasn’t the same as that confidence one discloses only to a closest friend, the kind of close friend with whom he could earnestly tell his wildest dreams and deepest secrets. Even though Prydon was a dragon, Darius considered him his best friend, and he had grown accustomed to his company. And now he was gone. You are not alone. Darius sighed and tossed the chicken leg onto his plate.
That night, Darius sat at the edge of his cot. The evening was warm, warmer than normal, and it sunk into his skin. His eyes shot to his arm where he felt it had entered. Strange, and he rubbed it, unsettled by the sensation. It was almost like in the mire and in Klavon’s realm when he had been humiliated as Prydon had to save his hide. It felt…weird, and he threw his legs up on the cot and closed his eyes.
As Darius slept, warmth invaded his mind and dreams haunted him, framed in past events. He was standing in the middle of the charred remains of his father’s village. It was quiet, empty, desolate. A shriek rung in his ears, and he threw his hands up to cover them as a fiery beast flew overhead, casting flames upon the already burnt buildings, bringing the fires to life once more. An instant later, the creature and his painful siren were gone, but burning timbers fell around and upon him. Darius tried to dodge them and looked up as he heard the laughter of a young woman. The white-haired girl calmly shook her head from side to side as she mocked him, dancing her way through the village and effortlessly avoiding any falling debris.
“You don’t need my help? Suit yourself,” she said, and she blew a kiss at him and vanished behind a burning building.
He stood confused, but the shatter of glass drew his gaze to windows of nearby buildings. Thieves poured out, their thunderous laughter filling the air, carrying bags of plundered goods. Darius ran toward them and tried to stop them, but they played a cruel game of keep-away as they tossed the bags over his head.
“Gold? You think you can take my gold?” said one.
One of them held up a sword. It was the sword Mr. Athus had given him.
“That’s mine!” Darius yelled. He lunged forward but lost his footing and fell to the ground as a violent thud shook the ground.
The thieves disappeared into thin air, their laughter echoing in the distance. Darius propped himself up and stood slowly. When he turned around, Prydon stood at the end of the street, and Darius relief washed over him. But his relief was short-lived.
“I must leave you for a while,” Prydon said flatly.
As Prydon took to the air, Darius heard a sharp laugh emanate from where his friend had just stood. In Prydon’s place towered a man in dark robes, holding a wizard’s staff and sword.
“You are alone. And now you are dead,” he said, and with one thunderous crack, Darius was thrown backwards.
Darius awoke on the floor of his hut, panting and in a cold sweat. He sat up, propping his bent elbow on one knee, his head resting on the tips of his fingers and thumb. He paused for a moment before getting up and walking to his door. It was still dark, but stars dotted the heavens like fireflies.
He picked up his pillow and went outside. A warm breeze brushed across his face, but it felt good as it evaporated the beads of sweat. Darius stretched out upon the ground and looked up at the sky.
Then he heard it and sat upright. That soft voice in his mind snaked in and out of his thoughts. Prydon has lied to you. That mark is a gift, not a curse.
Darius felt the tendrils begin to burn in his hand.
And now Prydon has abandoned you. You are alone, but you don’t have to be. Train, and when you return, you will stand at his side, his equal, and he will treat you as his son.
Darius clenched his fists, pressing them into the side of his head. “No!” he shouted, in a fit of anger. “You will not tempt my thoughts.”
Tempt? Return and stand with Klavon, and you will no longer be alone. You will stand with power, and—
“Stop!” demanded Darius. He stood and whirled around. In a sudden rage, he halted, threw his hands in the air and yelled, “Stooooop!”
The echo rang through the valley, and resting birds left their nests, filling the dark sky with a shadow of wings. Then silence fell, and Darius stood, breathing rapidly. He glanced side to side, wondering if he would see the warmth as some form, but…the warmth was gone. His mind was at peace, the tendrils in his hand stopped burning, and his beating heart slowed.
The warm breeze became a sweet cool caress against his face, and he closed his eyes. Whatever it was, he knew it would not bother him—not shroud his mind in anger—ever again.
He walked back to his pillow and lay down on the ground, staring into the beautiful starlit sky. Crickets chirped in the background, and he could hear a soft trickle of water from the stream that fed the big lake. A single cloud swirled quickly past, and he thought of his mother and the times they would lay in the fields of Brandor and search for shapes in the clouds. The cloud faded, and the sky was left looking like an indigo sheet of satin dotted with sparkling diamonds. In place of clouds, he used the stars to define his shapes: a flower, a ship…a dragon. Perhaps it was fatigue, but the dragon seemed to soar across the sky, staying within the confines of the valley, keeping diligent watch. He thought once more of Prydon’s words—You are not alone—and he believed it.
Darius and the Dragon's Stone Page 17