The Dragon's Heart

by David Powers King

  Celesia was about to ask Hilander why he stopped so suddenly, but she understood as soon as she raised her own eyes. An enormous pile of stony rubble lay in the distance. A gray wall stood next to a dilapidated tower, where Flint was waiting for them. These were the ruins of Old LaVóndia. Celesia looked at the ancient stones, hoping they would contain the answers they sought.

  Chapter 13

  Rummaging the Ruins

  The stones surrounding the palace foundation were warm enough to keep the fallen snow from sticking to its surface. Groth and Hilander wound through a maze of displaced boulders and carved granite, as if expecting someone or something to ambush them at any moment. Celesia should’ve felt this way herself, but she couldn’t see what was so dangerous about an endless collage of hard alabaster and limestone. They soon convened with Flint, who was waiting for them by the last standing tower, resembling a bastion of the once great palace.

  “Why are we so quiet?” Celesia whispered.

  “We mustn’t grab their attention,” Groth answered vaguely, his eyes ever watchful. “If they knew we set foot here, those elves will be like gnats in comparison.”

  “The fair folk,” Hilander clarified. “The fairies used to live in the forests and along the seashores, but they have found refuge in the ruins. I am not sure why.”

  “They were summoned here,” Flint added, unfurling his wings and gliding toward them. “Ever since the fall of this palace, they’ve been charged to protect what’s left, though they may not know what they’re protecting. We stand a chance of reasoning with them, since they want nothing more than to return to their own lands.”

  “I’m sure they’re charming.” Celesia already had a meeting with one. The memory of it caused the roots of her hair to feel sore. “When do we meet with them?”

  “We don’t,” Flint responded. “They come on their own bidding, and will never negotiate. They are the only creatures who have even more pride than dragons.”

  Celesia dismounted and had a look around. No one knew where to start, or what they should search for. This didn’t stop Celesia from exploring ahead. She felt compelled to remove the dagger and held it out in front of her. The others followed her, until they reached the remains of an entry hall. A path of stone pillars stood there, leading them to a flight of stairs that branched to an east and west wing. At no point did they find a ceiling that was intact. Remembering what she had read in The Realms of LaVóndia, Celesia identified the crippled structures along their path, explaining what they used to be in great detail. She was expecting more surprise for her knowledge than the humdrum cantering of her companions. And Flint was no longer behind them.

  “Where did he wander off to?” Celesia asked.

  “Not far,” called the dragon from the top of the stairs. For such a large creature, he could be very quiet when he wanted to be. “Come have a look at this.”

  They climbed up the fractured steps until they set foot on a cracked marble floor. Part of the grand hall still remained. Beyond it was an area of the palace with no lasting infrastructure. A massive crater lay beneath them. Snow had fallen into the depression, giving it the appearance of an enormous ceramic bowl—the center of the palace. There was another landing on the far side of the crater, identical to what they were standing on.

  What’s beyond that side of the crater?

  “This used to be the palace stronghold,” Flint said. “You might think of it as the tallest tower, the inner sanctum, or the keep ... like the one in your castle.”

  Celesia nodded as she stood in awe. “The crossing of two spells is the cause of this destruction?”

  “More like the channeling of their spells,” Flint said. “The culmination of their magic caused a great force that no one has ever known.” The dragon scratched his perch with his claws. Chips of stone rained down like breadcrumbs. “Would you believe me if I told you that I was found alive in the bottom of this cavity?”

  “Oh, Master Flint,” Groth said. “How awful.”

  “Maybe—good thing I don’t remember,” Flint said gratefully. “I was an infant then, though I wish with all my heart that I could remember what happened.”

  “What do you remember?” Celesia asked. It was easy to feel sorry for the dragon, after beholding the remnant of such a tragedy. “What’s your earliest memory?”

  Flint shifted to the side. “That’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, but it will have to wait. This area is too treacherous. Groth, Hilander, will you cross this dilapidation without a problem? I’ll carry Celesia to the other side. We’ll wait for you there.”

  Groth smiled at Celesia. “We can handle this.”

  “Are you sure, Master Flint?” she chided playfully, folding her arms in a guarded way. “Why can’t I cross this hole with the others? It doesn’t look dangerous.”

  “Tell that to the humans who recovered me,” replied the dragon. “Climb on my back, Princess. We’ll have a bird’s eye look around before the others reach us.”

  Celesia hesitated at first, but she wrapped her cloak around her waist and mounted herself on the dragon’s shoulders. She couldn’t see the danger in walking with the others, until Groth stumbled on a buried rock and almost lost his balance over the edge. Flint kicked the landing hard, sending them into the air a short distance.

  The dragon didn’t fly this time, as he had when they flew up and over that cliff. He stretched his wings and glided over the enormous hole beneath them, extending his jump. They landed softer than she was anticipating. She dismounted quickly. Bounding over such a great distance required a moment to catch her breath.

  The landing on the adjacent side of the palace was in shambles. Few markings remained of what once existed there, except for a stained glass window hidden beneath a shattered stairwell. Most of the glass in the arcading frame was missing, where a small section of the mural depicted the members of the Royal Magical Family. Each member stood in order from oldest to youngest, the last child holding her hand over an empty crib.

  “What do you suppose this picture means?” Flint asked. “Each of the Magical Family, standing in order from eldest to last, and ending with a baby’s cradle. Did they anticipate another member of the family?”

  “Perhaps they did?” Celesia asked in return, hiding the knowledge that Sarandretta had given her. I can’t tell him much, but how much does he know about the family anyway? “Your guess is every bit as good as mine. I’ve only known of your world for the past two months.”

  “You sound as though you regret your time with us.”

  There was a hidden growl in the dragon’s throat.

  “I have no regrets in staying with you, Flint,” Celesia answered, unsure as to why he brought this up again. “I’m curious of what’s happening back home, however, but I wanted to come with you. How else will I—?”

  “—be rid of your curse?”

  Celesia thrust her fists down. “That’s not what I’m saying, but I don’t exactly want a dagger following me wherever I go for the rest of my life. I miss the warm hearth in my room, and a decent, non-gamy meal. Yes, I miss home, but that doesn’t mean I want to leave.”

  Flint’s black shoulders tensed up and relaxed as he breathed. “Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me. Something is amiss in my mind, and I don’t know where I came from or where to go. I also crave the feeling of a warm hearth on a winter’s night, and dancing, music, thoughtfully prepared food and deep conversation. But I am a dragon. Dragons never wish for these things ... but I do. Why am I so different?”

  Celesia was about to answer when she decided to hold her tongue. Flint looked deep into her eyes.

  “What did Sarandretta tell you?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to answer. She turned and saw Groth and Hilander, halfway around the crater.

  “I know the Magical Family wanted a sixth child,” Flint started, demonstrating that he knew more than he was letting on. “They concocted a spell that would bring their eldest son back to li
fe, but Alkivar murdered them before this could happen. His defeat took place beyond this landing. If they found me in that hole, where the Wizard and Alchemist once fought, then I must have absorbed their magic and became a Castor. This is plenty to go by, but it doesn’t answer all my questions.”

  “Like why you enjoy walking upright, when the rest of us are asleep?” Celesia gently rounded on him. “Or providing me shelter in the rain, or having compassion on me, when I was about to leave for Bëdoustram?”

  “Is this going somewhere?” Flint asked impatiently.

  “I will if you let me finish,” Celesia warned, raising a finger. “Sarandretta said your mannerisms aren’t those of a dragon. I don’t believe that’s what you really are.”

  “But I am a dragon. What else would I be?”

  Celesia couldn’t bring herself to keep him in the dark any longer. “You’re human, Flint. Sarandretta thinks you’re human, and she believes Ereman turned you into a dragon in order to protect you from the effects of his and Alkivar’s curse. She said more than that actually.”

  “Yes ... She’s explained this to me, also.”

  “Huh? She told me to keep it a secret.”

  Flint looked into her eyes again. “I cannot deny that my feelings aren’t what a dragon should be feeling.”

  Celesia wrapped herself in her cloak. “Like what?”

  Flint nearly knocked out a section of wall with his tail. “The mage said nothing more than what you’ve disclosed to me. At least she is willing to trust you.”

  “There is one thing more,” Celesia said, not seeing the danger in telling him the full truth. A century of not knowing who he truly was had to be torture beyond description. He deserved to know. The dragon lowered his long face to her level, waiting for her to continue. “She doesn’t think you simply absorbed magic from Ereman and Alkivar. You’ve always had magic.”

  A quiet rumble sounded before Flint could speak. The ground shook violently for a few seconds, and the cradle in the stained glass window shattered from its frame. Flint called out to Celesia as the stone flooring beneath her feet crumbled into pebbles. She reached for Flint’s tail, but she couldn’t grab on. Air escaped from her lungs as she fell into the earth. Celesia bumped into rocks and loose dirt, until she landed on hard stone.

  She slid down a twisting tunnel, and ended up in a dark chamber, feeling raw and sore. Something was wet on her dress. She didn’t have enough light to know if it was blood or not. The dark was warm and humid. Flint called to her, his voice filled with panic. She heard him clawing at the earth, digging the ruins with his claws.

  “I’m fine!” she cried up the dark shaft, “but I can’t see a thing down here.”

  “I fear the fairies have welcomed us by causing the ground to shake,” Flint snarled. “Cover yourself up with that cloak of yours, Celesia. I think I know how to send some light to you.”

  Celesia tightened her cloak and hooded her head, as Flint barked for her to move aside. A fiery billow shot into the chamber. Celesia curled into a ball and shielded her face with her arms. His flame didn’t burn her. The cloak protected her. She looked into the chamber once the fire ceased. A few old torches illuminated a lengthy corridor, along with a thin gutter that burned above the arch. She stood in a chamber with walls of stone so smooth she couldn’t see the crevices between them.

  Corbels in the shape of old men with braided beards held the torches in place. What she wasn’t prepared for was the gruesome figure, slumped on the damp floor.

  “You see anything now?” Flint asked.

  Celesia stared into the sockets of a skull. “I’m not the only one who came down here ...”

  “What was that about?” she heard Groth ask.

  “That was a close one,” Hilander added. “Celesia would have died if she had followed us.”

  “Say,” Groth continued. “Where’d she go?”

  “Down here!” she called up. “I’m alright!”

  “What’re you doing down there?” Groth’s voice sounded as though he had thrown his head into the hole. “Hold on. I think I can wedge myself in.”

  “Good thinking,” Flint said. “I don’t want her to be alone down there.”

  “What do you see, Celesia?” Hilander whinnied.

  She described the chamber and the corbels, along with the fiery gutters and the skeletal remains of an unlucky explorer. There was another hole in the center of the room. With a closer look, it resembled the ruins of a dried up well. A sudden tumbling noise sounded from the open shaft, and Groth soon emerged. Dust covered every inch of him, and he coughed a few times. Small rocks flew out of his mouth as he did so. He caught Celesia’s eye, and gave her a pleasant grin.

  “What a find,” Groth hummed. The room seemed a little small for him, but this hardly dampened his spirits. He reached for a torch. “Many castles have deep well chambers. Looks like that poor chap lost his way. Does your castle have a well chamber like this?”

  “Not nearly as deep.” Celesia looked over herself. Her skirt was torn, and her left calf sported a small cut. “Do you think we can find a way to the surface?”

  “Let me mend that leg of yours.” Groth opened his acorn pouch that Sarandretta had given to him, and pulled out a handkerchief—more like a small blanket in comparison to her slender size. He tore the cloth into strips, bandaged her wound and applied a dressing to an abrasion that she wasn’t aware of. “I wouldn’t know the first thing about navigating a castle’s underground. I’ve heard of these labyrinths. Terrible places. If you’re any good at riddles and mazes, I will depend on you.”

  “Enough ruckus, Grologroth,” Flint said. “Head into the corridor. It should guide you to the crater. I’ll fly there and see if I can’t dig my way to you, unless you can find a way.”

  “Keep Celesia close,” Hilander pleaded.

  “Don’t worry!” Groth hollered up the shaft. “She’s not going anywhere without me.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Celesia added. “See you in a few moments.”

  As the two walked into the dark corridor, she hoped to stay true to her promise.

  ˙ ˚ ˚ ˚ ˙

  They strolled through the dim corridor with cautious steps. There was no telling how far the corridor went. Why would anyone build a well so far below the throng of water carriers? Her contemplations ceased as their path reached an unexpected junction. Five new tunnel entrances met them at the end of the corridor. Celesia found an inscription carved into the stone above them:

  Your right hand is bold—without me, you cannot hold

  “Looks like a puzzle,” Groth huffed. “Can’t say I’ve ever been very good at them. Wizards love riddles, apparently. Ereman’s are meant to be straightforward.”

  “If that were true, we would know Flint’s real name by now.” Celesia clasped her hands over her mouth. She had said too much, way more than she wanted to say.

  Groth scratched his head. “His real name?”

  “I’ll explain later. Let’s solve this puzzle.”

  “Easier said than done, as humans say.”

  “What do you suppose will happen if we walk into any of these passages?”

  “There’s one way to find out.”

  Groth strolled to the middle opening.

  “Wait!” Celesia warned. “Let’s think on it first!”

  Something sprang in the dark. Groth cried as he stumbled back into the corridor with a gash in his foot. “Bless my mushrooms! Nearly lost my head in there.”

  Celesia rushed over to help. Then, when she held out her hand with her palm down, applying a cloth to stop the bleeding, she noticed that there were five tunnels—and humans have five fingers. She remembered one of Master Mayhew’s complaints, about how he could no longer grasp onto a horse’s rein with his right hand, because he was missing—“A thumb!”

  “A thumb?” the ogre grumbled as he nursed his foot.

  Celesia held out her right hand again. If the puzzle was about a right hand, and if the answer was a thu
mb, then the tunnel they wanted was— “That one, the far left.”

  “So clever,” Groth said, trying to keep himself from limping. “I will lead the way, just to be safe. I may hurt my other foot, but rather that than see you lose one.”

  He stepped into the passage. Nothing happened.

  Traveling into the tunnel, they soon arrived before a heavy wooden door with another corbel in the center of its pointed arch. This one had a gargoyle, with a stout nose and sharp teeth. The door was identical to the one in the chamber, from inside Sarandretta’s coat closet.

  Bones littered the floor—not all of them human.

  “Ereman’s private study must be in there,” Celesia said, relieved as she reached for the handle. A sudden shock launched her backward, plunging her body into Groth’s gut. She shook and quivered as she bounced back. “I’ve never felt anything like that. What was it?”

  “The same power used by friends and foes.”

  They looked to the ceiling and saw nothing. They couldn’t tell where the rugged voice was coming from, until the gargoyle’s head moved. It cracked its rocky neck, and smacked its stony lips. Dust and granules fell from its face as it morphed to life. This didn’t surprise Celesia, as it should have. “You can talk?” she asked.

  “You never seen a rock speak to you?” the gargoyle cackled with a menacing voice. “All things of the earth have a voice, if be keen enough to listen. What brings creatures as yourselves to the grave of a sad story, and why do you bring that terrible memory with you?”

  He was referring to the stone around her neck.

  “We’re looking for answers and relics, to restore the land of its magic,” Celesia said, “and to find a way out, if that’s possible. Would you be able to help us?”

  “I know only what Master wants me to know.” The gargoyle licked its polished lips with a stone tongue. “What you are looking for may rest behind me, but you are not allowed to enter unless you prove your minds are zealous, as Master would like his visitors to be.”