The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

  Celesia turned to the ogre. He didn’t move, either.

  “Who enters the sanctum of Sarandretta the Mage?” The penetrating voice summoned the unlit torches to life. A stout woman with a hunched back and long gray hair made her way to them, holding a stick in one hand and a candle with a bright red flame in the other. It was Celesia’s guess that this stick was a real, magical wand. “Who’re you interlopers?” she asked, sniffing at them violently as she approached. “Is that you, Grothie?”

  “Aye,” he said through tight lips. “Came to visit.”

  “Of course!” Sarandretta cackled. “I see you brought a young friend and a sturdy steed with you, only ... this girl is moving? How are you not still like the others?”

  All Celesia could do was shrug. “Should I be?”

  “Maybe not, and my word have I no manners!” She waved her wand like a conductor’s stroke, and the ogre and stallion thawed from their frozen charm. “Forgive my defenses, but an old woman cannot be too careful these days, what with the possibility of the Alchemist running loose in the land once again. What of this girl you’ve brought with you? Who might she be, dearies? ”

  Celesia stuttered as she stood up straight. “My name is Celesia, Princess of Bëdoustram.”

  “I know, dearie,” Sarandretta replied as she revealed a smile. “But do you know who you really are?”

  Celesia stroked Hilander’s mane to calm him, and herself. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “I will answer that with a spot to drink.” Sarandretta waved her candle away from them. “Follow me. I have some soup on, and a cup of hot rose water boiling.”

  “Forgive me,” Celesia said as she stepped closer to the woman’s side. “Are you a witch?”

  “I am a mage!” she answered, her voice kind and shrewd all at once. “Witches use black magic. Mage’s are friendly and approachable. Come. I must reseal the passageway with another stilling charm. After you.”

  As they started, a peculiar sensation stopped Celesia.

  The fastened dagger on her belt was warm again.

  She moved her cloak aside and pried the scabbard from her waist. This time, she was able hold the grip without burning herself. Groth and Hilander faced the shining weapon as the mage stepped forward to help, and touched the hilt in the process. Flames burst from its edges, casting a light that dwarfed all the torches combined. New words began to appear on the edge:

  Scattered it be through forest and plain—

  To prevent rising evil, terrible and bane—

  After the words spread on the silver blade, it fell to the ground and cooled. Sarandretta laid claim to the dagger, and read aloud the previous message. When Celesia looked more closely at the mage’s face, her left eye was clearly a glass one. The woman raised her head, and scowled curiously. “Follow me,” she ordered. “No remarks. Not a sound. Come!”

  The mage ran down the passage while the others tried to keep up. Sarandretta raised the latch of a door and forced them all inside. A red sofa and carpeting greeted them. A fire was burning in the hearth, peculiar since there was no chimney leading outside. A cauldron hovered over the flames without a rod to hold it in place. Celesia’s appetite returned the moment she smelled the stew, laid next to roses and white carrot blossoms on an antique table. There were enough dishes for three, and there was also a trough of carrots and oats nearby. Was the mage expecting them?

  When Hilander finally stepped inside, the mage shut the door and waved her wand. The entryway vanished, replaced by a wall of rock. A coat rack stood beside the portrait of an old man, dressed in a draping blue robe. He had braided white hair and a beard like snow.

  “I don’t mean to jump into business, Sarandretta, but we’ve gone days without answers,” Groth said. “We must know, did that dagger once belong to Ereman?”

  “Indeed it did,” Sarandretta answered, still holding the weapon. “It is much more than a common dagger. Oh yes, it is much more indeed. Do you see here, how this verse of rhyme is below the new, and how the other side of the blade hasn’t a thing written there yet? As I am the last of the great mages, the dagger’s presence before me has triggered a counter spell.”

  “So, the tethering charm on Celesia will wear off, now that you’ve touched it?” Groth asked.

  “I’d almost forgotten,” Celesia said. “What a relief.”

  The mage shook her head. “It’s not simple. Ereman used this to destroy the vessel of Alkivar’s stolen magic. Only Ereman could make a quaternary like this one.”

  Celesia swallowed. “Then, I’m tied to it forever?”

  The woman handed the weapon back to Celesia. “Restore The Dragon’s Heart, and you will be freed.”

  Chapter 10

  Deciphering the Quaternary

  Celesia held fast to the dagger, letting the mage’s words take root. “What’s the Dragon’s Heart?”

  Smiling, Sarandretta massaged the side of her head. “I should collect my thoughts before I answer. Come to the table. I have a bit of daube prepared for us.”

  Groth moved to the sturdy table first, taking a seat in the largest chair. The cauldron rose from the fire and hovered above their bowls to pour a generous serving of beef and vegetable stew for each of them. Hilander sniffed the trough of oats and carrots, a kingly feast for a horse. Celesia thought it best to wait for their host while Groth dug into his portion, slurping it from his spoon. Taking her own spoon in hand, Celesia sampled the meal. Her taste buds demanded more. Sarandretta conjured a teakettle out of thin air, poured herself a cup of rose water, and sipped.

  “You have a lovely home,” Celesia said. “And this stew is wonderful.”

  The mage stared into her beverage, swirling the cup in her hand.

  “Flint is waiting for us outside. We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

  “He is a patient creature, that Flint. I will see him once I finish my drink,” Sarandretta replied without taking her eyes off the hot rose water. “Until then, I might as well tell you what your dagger is.”

  “Do you know what’s happened to my mum?” the ogre asked.

  “I’m not so sure. Some creature sorted through your house, I know that.” Her answer was a fairly dismal one. “But your mother is safe in hiding, although I don’t know where she is.”

  “Whaa creeher ould do hat?” Hilander asked through a mouthful of oats.

  Sarandretta frowned. “I expect better manners from a horse of the plain. Swallow before you speak.” She shifted her unsightly gaze back to Celesia. “I assume the creature is Alkivar’s doing, that much is certain. This can only mean that he has returned. As only his power grows, we should anticipate more signs of his returning, and one of those signs is sitting with us now.”

  Celesia’s spoon slipped from her fingers. “Me?”

  The mage nodded.

  There had to be a mistake. How was she a sign of anything? Then again, the elves did say Alkivar would return if a princess was ever born in LaVóndia again.

  “I assume that you know the history of LaVóndia?” When Celesia shrugged, the mage continued. “Then I will tell you where most books cease. To put a stopper on Alkivar’s rampage, the wizard Ereman conjured an unpredictable enchantment. Part of this enchantment resulted in a curse upon the land that no princess would be born in LaVóndia again. A sign that his curse has lost its potency is the birth of a princess. Only then can this Alkivar return, weakened and barely alive.”

  “Why curse the land in such a way?” Groth asked.

  Sarandretta shook her head. “Who knows what goes through the mind of a wizard. Even the most irrational spells have a purpose when cast. Ereman sent that curse to protect something, and it made Ereman disappear as well. No one knows if he is alive or dead as a result. As for the dagger, it distinctly gives mention to The Dragon’s Heart—it was a tool created by wizards to assist the Royal Magical Family in their training, to be Castors of Magic. Alkivar stole the stone and used its power to ravage the land of magic—until he was
strong enough to murder the Magical Family.”

  Celesia bowed her head. “How terrible.”

  “It gets worse,” Sarandretta replied. “I know Ereman confronted Alkivar in what is now the ruined palace of LaVóndia. He was too late to save the magical family, but Ereman did try to protect something that Alkivar wanted to destroy. In doing so, the Dragon’s Heart was shattered. And with that much magic stored in a single stone, the palace walls couldn’t hold it. The fragments spread through forest and plain by a blast that brought the kingdom to ruin. This is what I know: Alkivar is back.

  “You have unlocked the quaternary that is hidden in Ereman’s dagger. By tethering itself to Celesie, she has been given the task of finding and restoring the lost fragments of the Dragon’s Heart—and Flint is that something that Ereman was protecting.”

  Stew spewed on the table from the ogre’s mouth. “Master Flint?”

  Chunks of carrot splattered the wall from Hilander. “He’s what?”

  “Why would Alkivar want to kill a dragon?” Celesia added. “What could he have done?”

  Sarandretta sat unmoved, showing little concern for the orange blotch that now stained her wall. “Flint is directly involved, although I believe he was a hatchling then. I’m not sure why, but good thing he’s a dragon, or he never would’ve survived the ruin of LaVóndia.”

  Hilander frowned at the mess he’d made. “Then how is Celesia tied to all of this again?”

  Groth nodded. “And why has the dagger chosen her to find the lost fragments?”

  The stallion’s antics caused the mage to cackle. “The dagger has two separate roles. The first is to provide clues for restoring the land’s magic. You have unlocked the first two parts of the quaternary—an object with a magically inscribed riddle, which is intended to lead its host to the answer. My guess is the last two parts of the riddle will only reveal itself in the presence of other Castors of Magic, like Flint or my own self. Castors of Magic are few and far these days. Good luck finding others.” Sarandretta took another sip. “Secondly, the dagger is the bearer’s protection and guide, so long as the Dragon’s Heart remains close to their own heart.”

  “So why did it choose her?” Hilander asked. “She doesn’t have the Dragon’s Heart.”

  “Doesn’t she?” the mage asked. “I do believe this quaternary is meant to tether itself to someone of willing heart and of hidden kindness who is already carrying some of the Dragon’s Heart with them.”

  Groth and Hilander looked at Celesia’s necklace so fast, their necks cricked. Her own breath stolen, Celesia raised the stone from her chest. Could it be? Was the stone around her neck a part of the Dragon’s Heart? It had belonged to her mother. How did she find it?

  “I’ve had a fragment with me all this time?”

  “Obviously so.” Sarandretta nodded. “That dagger was used to shatter the stone. It’s of no surprise that the fragment is the tethering agent. Please tell me, for I am curious. When you held the dagger with the fragment in your possession, did you feel anything peculiar?”

  “I ... I did feel something. This odd sensation crept through my body like a warm blanket. When the dagger was on fire, I could touch it without burning my hand.”

  “Bless my lot,” Groth said while dabbing his chin with a napkin. “Never in a thousand years ...”

  Sarandretta smiled. “If the Alchemist had found that fragment, he would regain a portion of his former strength, and he would have the means to find the rest of the Dragon’s Heart.”

  “You mean to tell us that one of the fragments can lead us to the others?” Hilander stepped a little closer to Celesia as he asked. Because of the low ceiling, he had to lower his head to hers.

  “The Dragon’s Heart is a catalyst for storing magic,” Sarandretta explained. “It wants nothing more than to be united. If the fragments are close enough, they will reassemble on their own. Why, your fragment would leap from your hand in order to find its companions.”

  Leap from my hand?

  Celesia immediately thought of the elves, and their old tree at the tribunal. “Wait ... do you remember that tree, the one in the Tribunal when Brookwind carried the stone to the elders? It flew out of his hand and wedged itself into the bark of their tree, all on its own!”

  Groth slapped his forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Their stone must be inside that old tree somewhere. We have to go back and find it right away.”

  Sarandretta sipped the last of her drink. “I better take you back to the dragon, Grothie. He can search the tree while we stand guard. I will fly with Flint if he permits.” The woman stood and gathered a shawl and a small pouch with an acorn button. She handed it to the ogre. “I forgot to give you this, Grothie. Happy Birthday.” The ogre smiled as she turned to the others. “I suggest you stay here, Celesie. Hilanthro will keep you safe.”

  “Hilander,” the stallion corrected.

  “Of course,” she said, moving to Groth’s side. She asked for his hand and held it. “Make yourself at home, dearies. This shouldn’t take us more than an hour.”

  With a flick of her wand, Sarandretta and the ogre vanished. So did the floating tea kettle, cauldron and trough. Hilander neighed in disappointment and knelt by the table. Seeing that he wasn’t in the brightest of moods, Celesia returned to her chair and watched the fire. It didn’t take long for the stallion to drift to sleep.

  Celesia wasn’t tired. She couldn’t wait an hour.

  Their conversation had happened so fast, and Celesia wasn’t in the right frame of mind to make a strong case against being left behind. How she would’ve enjoyed a longer ride on Flint’s slick back. Sighing, Celesia took advantage of the mage’s invitation to make herself at home. She stood up and decided to make herself useful by returning the dishes to the kitchen. The water pump at the sink made washing the bowls easy enough. Once the table was cleared and the dishes dried and put away, she went to look at the red sofa by the fireplace, and the two rooms next to the kitchen. One of them was the mage’s bedroom. She had no desire to go in there. The other room was the size of a broom closet. When she opened the door, it led to a vast chamber, littered with books and objects, and some vegetation. She stepped inside, unaware of the door disappearing behind her.

  Dusty jars cluttered a lengthy stone table. Several grimy books were left open, cataloging hundreds of ingredients. Other books had strange titles, some in languages she didn’t understand. One book in particular caught her attention, titled with embossed gold letters:

  The Realms of LaVóndia

  She opened the cover and browsed through its pages. It was a history book, divided into six parts. The palace of LaVóndia comprised most of the start. The account shifted into chapters, explaining in depth the southern sea region of Glydatha, the forest of Erdwyn, the cold deserts of Trisontia—and her mountainous kingdom of Bëdoustram. Celesia paged through the book to gain a better understanding of her world. Then there was a caption, written under the painting of a family:

  The Royal Magical Family

  The image was something out of a storybook. Sitting on two large thrones was a king and queen, with four children standing by them. They seemed happy. The king had dark hair and his wife was beautiful with the color of strawberries in her locks. The oldest son had brown hair. The youngest had his father’s complexion. Two daughters sat close by their mother, with darker red locks than hers. The one feature they all shared was their eyes—the deepest of blue—just like the gemstone around Celesia’s neck—and in the dragon’s eyes.

  “Interesting ... Their eyes resemble Flint’s.”

  She dove in and read the next caption:

  King Axel with Queen Rhea and their children:

  Icerus, Zaram, Althea and Noita.

  Humming with interest, Celesia leafed to a new page:

  At Fifteen, Prince Thoth, first son of King Axel and

  Queen Rhea, died tragically through the experimentation

  of magic. The Kingdom mourned his loss, as he w
as a

  gifted pupil of the Wizard Ereman. No one knows the

  cause of this accident, but that did not deter the Family

  in attempting the Enchantment of Revival. Ereman

  advised against this, but the Family devised a secret

  method to bring the Prince back to life: For six to come

  and death be won, the Seven shall name the one.

  “The Seven?” She couldn’t guess what that meant.

  A thump sounded in a corner. Celesia closed the book and turned as a small cloud of dust rose from the floor. A torn manuscript lay in the midst of the floating dust. It must’ve fallen from a high shelf. She gazed up, amazed to see a tiny creature with fluttering wings.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you, Mage.”

  Celesia stood still, at a loss for words. She stared, awestruck, at a small fairy. “It’s no trouble at all.”

  “Wait a blink’en second!” A quick line of sparkling light trailed behind the fairy as she flew behind Celesia and pulled at her hair. “You’re not Sarandretta! You’d better get out of here before the others see you.”

  The malicious fairy practically shoved Celesia back into the closet door. And as she was about to leave, the fragment rose from her chest. Celesia tried to stop the fairy, but it was no use. She was inside the mage’s home again, faster than she could blink. When she turned around, the chamber was gone. Celesia touched the wall where the entrance used to be. She then backed away, closed the closet door and reopened it, finding nothing more than a few coats and a broom. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t reenter the chamber.

  Another piece of the Heart is in there!

  After a while, realizing there was nothing she could do, Celesia cozied herself on the couch in front of the undiminished fire, and waited for the mage to return.