Shadow Soul

by R. Michael Card

  “Where is it now?”

  “It was broken by a krolloc.”

  “A krolloc? Those are only myths are they not?”

  “They most certainly are not. Jais, Barami, and I fought one not much more than a month ago. We defeated it, barely, but it destroyed Davlas.” She felt a little odd hearing the intense loss in her voice. She really did miss that spear, but it was just a thing.

  “It sounds like that weapon meant a lot to you.”

  “It did. It was a gift from my father.” That’s what it was. Not the thing itself, but what it had meant to her… that’s what she’d lost.

  “Ah,” Volf said, then a moment later, his voice changed dramatically when he breathed a quiet, “Oh!”

  She looked at him, but he was looking ahead of them.

  She followed his gaze, and her eyes went as wide as his as she too let out her own breathy, “My gods!”

  They had come to the dragon.

  27

  Volf couldn’t take his eyes from the majestic beast ahead of him.

  It lay in a massive cave, so large he couldn’t see the far walls and so tall Volf could see no top, only darkness. The grand surroundings did nothing to minimize the magnificence of the dragon itself. It was curled around itself but still took up an area forty to fifty feet across. He had no clue how large it might be when stretched out, but he guessed several hundred feet given the long serpentine neck and tail. The wings were folded away, but they too seemed massive. He’d seen a great eagle once with a wingspan of perhaps five or six feet. Its body was so much smaller than those great wings. He had to assume that wings would scale with size meaning if this creature was several hundred feet long then its wings would be probably double or triple that. Yet it wasn’t really the creature’s size — at least not that alone — that astounded him.

  First, there was its glow. He’d thought it a trick of the lantern light, but as he stared at it, he could tell that the cave was being dimly lit by the dragon itself. The scales were an odd shade of rusty red-gold, but luminescent and somehow still vibrant.

  Then there was the heat. He’d been cold since the rain had started and the cave itself had been chilly, but now, as he inched closer, he felt a warmth radiating off the beast along with the light. But more than the heat itself was a strange warm feeling inside him. Once, in his youth, he’d heard tales of the dragons of old and how they could inspire a wide array of emotions from awe and peace to fear and submission all depending on how the dragon itself was feeling. For the longest time — in ages past — dragons were the rulers of human-kind and now he could understand why. He would easily submit to such a creature, quite willingly.

  He realized now that the odd feeling in his gut, the pull he’d felt to come here, was that same sense of emotional inspiration but at a much more primal level.

  Last, though in many ways mixed in with everything else, was the sheer feeling of power that the dragon gave off. Perhaps it was just some mixture of the light and warmth and emotional pull, but Volf couldn’t help but feel small and insignificant compared to this creature. More than just its size it felt like it was… on another level of creation. It wasn’t a god, but it wasn’t a mortal like him either. It was somewhere in between and still far above the comprehension and control of humanity.

  “Oh,” he said again quietly. “Wow.” No other words seemed appropriate.

  “It be amazing, yes?” Hildr said and though she’d seen it before there was still a level of awe in her voice equal to what Volf felt.

  “Gods,” Barami breathed.

  “They were the mounts of the gods,” Hildr said evenly. “This be as close as you will probably ever get to a god.”

  Now Volf understood why the Dronnegir referred to the dragon as a ‘divine being,’ He also understood why they would have devoted their lives — generations of lives — to it. He was quite willing to do so now.

  “Set up camp here,” Hildr said indicating a level spot of the cave. “There is a ritual I must perform to wake it. It will take some time.”

  Volf had to work to tear his gaze away from the dragon and even as he helped Caerwyn and Barami set up a simple camp he — and they — kept turning to gaze at it for long periods. It wasn’t a choice really, the creature demanded attention even in this dormant state.

  They did not speak loudly, that would defile this place, but communicated in hushed voices.

  Once the camp was set, they waited and watched as Hildr performed a sort of dance, murmuring to herself in her tongue. It was mesmerizing to watch, but still not as entrancing as the dragon itself.

  When she finished she stepped over to them and seemed rather fatigued.

  It had been a long day, but Volf no longer felt that sense of tiredness. Being near the dragon energized him.

  Then the dragon began to move and Volf’s heart nearly stopped.

  It was a slow process. First one wing unfolded and stretched out. It was indeed long and massive, straining upwards several hundred feet. The glow from the wing illuminated the shadowed area above the dragon. This cavern seemed to be a wide cylindrical space within the mountain and even once the wing was fully extended, Volf still couldn’t see the top. One of the immediate things he noticed about the wing itself was its poor condition. The leathery flaps, stretched between sinews, were full of holes, large and small, like moth-eaten cloth. Volf wondered if a wing in such a state would still be able to make the creature fly?

  After the wing came the head and tail, uncurling from the mound of scales. The head had been partially covered by a wing when he’d first arrived and seeing it now caused him to forget to breathe for several long moments. As large as a small house, it was blocky yet smooth.

  He’d seen drawings of what people thought dragons looked like and they were usually covered in horns and spikes. This one had none of that, only smooth scales. The back of the head was roughly a large cube with the eyes set into the front and leathery flaps for ears at the back. In front of that was the snout, boxy and long with several long teeth protruding from the top jaw to hang out next to the lower jaw as it tapered near the end. Thin tendrils of smoke drifted up from its massive nostrils as if they were the chimneys for some inner fire. Here again Volf could see scales missing, leaving gaps with discolored areas beneath.

  It stretched out its long neck, weaving from side to side as if working out kinks from its long sleep.

  The tail was so incredibly long, even longer than Volf had imagined. It tapered slowly with a great diamond-shaped tip, which not only looked like it could cause great damage but was currently doing so. The tail had also been stretched out and, as it swayed from side to side, the tip carved lines into the stone walls like they were butter.

  Then the dragon began to lever itself up onto its legs, but here it seemed to have some trouble. It took several attempts to get its feet under it and stand.

  More and more Volf was seeing the effects of its probably vastly long life on this being. Apart from the missing scales and the physical anomalies, it moved like an old person, slow and deliberate. Great creaks of ancient bones echoed through the cave

  But despite the signs of its ancient heritage, once it was standing, unfurling the other wing, Volf was still stupefied for several long moments gazing at it. It let out a long bellowing roar that shook the mountain, causing dust and small rocks to tremble loose and fall around them.

  Then, with a final couple head stretches — which cracked some bones in its neck, sending shudders down Volf’s spine — it looked down at them.

  “Your dance is beautiful young one,” it said, and the sound reverberated through the cavern and even within him.

  Hildr bowed low to the beast. “Your praise be gracious, divine one.”

  “Is it time for yet another generation to be blessed?” the dragon asked. “It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long?”

  “No, divine one. But I bring travelers from far lands who have sought out your wisdom and guidance. They are drahksani, bu
t many of the drahksani have been killed, hunted during the great purge many years ago, so they have no families or others to guide them. They felt your presence here and hoped to speak with you.” She hesitated only a moment before continuing her tone a bit repentant. “We have failed to keep your secret from them. The Dronnegir apologize for this intrusion.”

  The dragon’s gaze swung up to look at Volf and the others.

  Volf swallowed hard under that fiery glance. The dragon’s eyes burned with an inner fire, glowing red like metal fresh from a forge, much more so than the ever-present glow from its body.

  “Drahksan.” It said the word as if recalling some distant memory. “Hunted?” It shook its head and seemed to deflate a little in what seemed like the dragon equivalent of a sigh. “Why would humans hunt their protectors?” It shook its head again. “Such short memories.” Then it focused on Volf and Caerwyn again. “How may I help you, my children?”

  It was Caerwyn who spoke first, perhaps recovering a little quicker from her shock. “Hello great one,” she began, her voice strong. Volf didn’t think his would be. “We seek only knowledge of who and what we are. Much has been lost over time, and if drahksani were meant to be the protectors of humanity, then we have all lost our way. So many have died that those of us who remain hardly know what we can do, or how to do it. There were none to teach us. We are lost and hoped you might guide us, provide us with your wisdom and knowledge.”

  The dragon peered at her for a long time. Volf wasn’t sure how she endured it. He’d be shrinking away from such a gaze.

  Then the dragon did turn its attention his way and he felt it connect with him in a way it was hard to explain or even fully understand. The dragon was a part of him. It knew him explicitly; every shadowed corner of his soul was exposed. Yet unlike the truth-medallion the Dronnegir had used on him, this was more like a warmth that filled him, driving out the shadows. He didn’t scream, and he didn’t flinch, because he couldn’t. At that moment, he wasn’t in control of himself.

  Then the gaze left him and with it went the intensity of the dragon’s being within him.

  “Oh,” he breathed out quietly.

  “I can see the truth of your words. Your lives have been hard. I shall tell you what I know and what I can see.” It let out a great gust of a breath, sulfuric and hot. Smoke billowed out from its mouth and dissipated as it ascended up the great shaft of the cave.

  “Caerwyn, approach. It will be easier to do this through touch. Words are always a clumsy medium.”

  It knew her name.

  Of course it would. If it had looked into her the same way it had into him — and he guessed it had — it would know her name as well as so much more.

  Caerwyn strode forward, unafraid. She stopped directly under the head of the gigantic beast. It lowered its great head slowly until the tip of its snout touched her forehead. It was there only an instant before drawing back.

  Caerwyn staggered as if struck before catching herself and drawing several long, deep breaths. Even as she recovered, the dragon spoke again. “For your loss I grant you this boon.”

  The dragon moved one leg — thicker than any tree-trunk Volf had ever seen — forward. A claw the length of a man emerged to cut a trough into the stone. The dragon then backed up and lowered its head to that trough and breathed out a gust of fire. The short burst of flame roared through the cave then was gone. When the smoke cleared, what remained was a glowing line in the stone trough it had carved. “For you. It is safe to take it now.”

  Caerwyn looked oddly at the item. Volf couldn’t see more than the glow it let off. She stepped forward and picked it up.

  It was a spear, and she gasped as she touched it. Volf thought this might be because it was still glowing hot, but she didn’t drop it reflexively, so perhaps not. After a long moment, Caerwyn nodded and moved away. She came out from under the dragon and turned again to meet its gaze.

  “Thank you… thank you. There are no words.”

  The dragon nodded. “I know, my daughter. Take these gifts and may your life be a blessing to all creatures of this world. That is all the thanks I ask.”

  She nodded and retreated back. Once she got to their little camp she sat with the spear in her lap and simply stared at it for a long time.

  If she did much else, Volf missed it as the dragon then called him forward.

  He was terrified, yet somehow also at peace. The feeling from the dragon was one of calm awe. Yet still it was so massive he couldn’t help but be afraid.

  He stepped up before it and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see that massive head descending toward him.

  He felt it.

  Odd for something so large, but it came as no more than a brush against his skin, the sulfuric smell that clung to it rolling over him for a moment before it too was gone.

  But he wasn’t thinking about the smell.

  No, his mind was whirling with revelations.

  28

  Caerwyn needed time to process everything she had just learned. That one touch from the dragon had conveyed so much information, her mind was still reeling to catch up and assimilate it all.

  First and foremost, was a detailed inventory of her abilities. Yet it would take some time still to fully understand how to use some of them. She was physically strong and tough, that wasn’t anything new, but the power to surge her strength and endurance… that was. She felt like perhaps she’d done this before without knowing what she was doing. Now she knew how, and what it would cost her — fatigue and lethargy that would follow. She had known of her enhanced senses, hearing and sight beyond human levels. Yet she hadn’t known just how intense they were: she could hunt by scent alone, isolate sounds thousands of feet away, or focus on a single point to see details at a similar distance. Even the ability to — in a way — see in the dark by having her own voice echo back to her to tell where walls were, to the point of knowing all details of the enshrouded space. The most astonishing ability of all, was her ability to simply ignore and make herself immune to the magic of others. It was something she could use at will and she knew with a certainty she’d used it in the past. A specific memory came to her of fighting the krolloc and it trying to pick her up with its magic and not being able to. She was glad she’d be able to turn it off though, otherwise Jais’ healing wouldn’t have affected her.

  All of this would take time to integrate and master.

  The second most fascinating thing that had come with the dragon’s touch — what might have been just a whim for the creature — was a detailed knowledge of the creation and history of the drahksani. This, even more so than her knowledge of her new abilities, would take a lot of time to understand and fully comprehend.

  Dragons had sacrificed themselves. She knew now that dragons didn’t reproduce in any normal sense. They ended their existence to create an egg. This egg usually held only a single dragon within which would have all the memories of its predecessor. It was a rebirth of sorts, which kept them effectively immortal. They could produce two or more dragons in an egg, and each would have the memories of the parent, but each would be lesser in some degree, the total power of all within the egg would never be greater than the one who died to create them. To create the drahksani, dragons had died and instead of creating dragons within their eggs, they’d created this new race instead. Usually dozens or more at a time — each powerful, carrying a fraction of a dragon’s power within them.

  The drahksani had been created at the end of the age of dragons when the great beasts were fading from the realm and they wished to leave something of themselves behind to help and protect humanity. There was more, so much more, but that’s what had sunk in first, and it was wondrous to know.

  Finally, the dragon had somehow imparted knowledge of her own specific bloodline. She could trace it back, well over a hundred generations, to the first of her line. She didn’t care about that so much as the knowledge of her parents. She knew them now as if she’d lived with them their whole lives.
She had a permanent picture of her mother’s smile and her father’s piercing blue eyes. She knew what they had been able to do and who they had been, their likes and dislikes, their quirks and habits. This more than anything, as important as it all was, affected her the most. She was meeting her parents for the first time, truly getting to know them, and it was bringing up emotions she’d locked away for so very long. Tears cascaded from her eyes, over her cheeks and around a sad smile.

  Then there was the dragon’s gift: Davlas remade… but so much more than her other spear had been. It had the same name and qualities: unerring accuracy at incredible distances and would return to her when she called its name. But this one was unbreakable, forged of dragon’s breath, the purest and rarest of magic. She didn’t even have to hold it to throw it. It would float on its own, and she could control it with a thought, recalling it without saying a word. It was more than she could have ever asked for.

  “And you, human, do you wish for anything from me?”

  Caerwyn looked up to see the dragon addressing Barami.

  Volf was staggering away from the beast carrying something she couldn’t see cradled in the palm of his hand. If his experience had been anything like hers, he’d need some time to take it all in.

  Barami stepped forward. “I require nothing from your greatness. I am here only as a friend of these drahksani and seek nothing in return.

  “You ask for nothing, but I shall give you something still. Lay your sword on the ground before you.”

  Barami, probably thinking it best not to upset or refuse the gift of a dragon, took out his large sword and laid it down.

  The dragon moved forward a bit and lowered its head, breathing on the blade of the weapon. Once done, it drew back. “Your blade will never falter, never break nor dull. Use it wisely, great warrior.”

  “I will, my thanks are eternal.” Barami bowed.