Dusk came none too early for Kazen’s sake. He was weary and hungry, and wished only to collapse into blissful slumber. Shanks dropped the armful of wood he had strapped to his back and readied a neat pile. The arid conditions did well to dry out the lumber and Ilagon had little trouble getting a fire started.
Thankfully, E’enna and Ilagon volunteered for first watch. Kazen hunched beneath his cloak, which had dried stiff and scratchy under the hard sun. As tired as he was, he still found it difficult to rest peacefully on a bed of rocks. No matter which way he tossed or turned, there was always a rock poking him in the side or jabbing him in the back. Soon enough, fatigue won over comfort and he fell asleep to the soothing crackle of the glowing fire.
Chapter 10
Kazen felt better the next day. The hunger pains had subsided to a dull ache and the few solid hours of sleep he had gotten seemed to refresh him well enough. With clear skies and the sun over their shoulders, the company kept to a steady gait through the morning and into the afternoon.
“Have a look at this!” Ilagon shouted as they rounded the top of a steep rise.
In the deep valley below, they could just make out the outline of large city that seemed to be cut right out of the surrounding rock.
“Crenin Non?” Kazen asked with excitement.
“Yes,” Ilagon answered with an exuberant smile. “The dragon city.”
“Dragon city?” Kazen puzzled for a moment. “What does that mean? You did not say anything about it being a dragon city.”
Kazen suddenly realized he was talking to himself as the others had already started down the sheer embankment. “Oy!” he called, feeling rather indignant. “Wait for me!”
Sliding and skidding, they slowly made their way down the steep slope. A cloud of dust settled around them as they reached the foot of the hill. They gazed in silent awe at the immense city sprawled out before them.
The city lay in a deep vale, surrounded by rocky hills on every side. All of the buildings and structures seemed to be carved out of the russet stone, which abounded in every direction. The streets were paved with polished cobblestone and every path was carefully spotted with vibrant patches of colorful flowers and plants.
Each building seemed to have its own distinct architecture. There was not a single structure that resembled another in the whole city. Some were square and perfectly symmetrical, while others sloped and curved with whimsical grace. Many of the buildings were several stories tall with stained-glass windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Creeping vines, with yellow and orange blooms, clung to the sides of the buildings and were shaped into intricate, swirling designs.
As they neared the center of the apparently vacant city, they came to an immense stone fountain. At least three stories high and equally as wide, it was simply breathtaking. Beautiful carvings of dragons and horses embroidered the outside walls of the rounded fountain. Statues, of what appeared to be armored men holding their hands to the heavens, lined the middle tier; a slow trickle of water ran from their open hands to the collecting pool below. Atop the fountain was a magnificent sculpture depicting a bearded man in a long robe standing beside a fierce-looking dragon.
“What is this place?” Kazen asked, still staring in awe at the spectacular sight. “And where is everyone? A city this size should have thousands of people and we have not seen a soul.”
“Perhaps it was struck by disease or abandoned,” E’enna suggested.
Kazen shook his head. “This is no abandoned city; it has been perfectly preserved.”
Ilagon put his hand on Kazen’s shoulder and showed him to the stone benches that circled the great fountain. “This is Crenin Non.” He smiled. “This city was built by dragons, many centuries ago, in honor of the alliance that once existed between wizards and dragons. It was a meeting place where dragons and wizards could seek each other’s council and exchange ideas and news.”
“But no longer?” Kazen asked.
Ilagon shrugged his shoulders. “One day the dragons just stopped coming to the city. No word or message was ever sent. They simply disappeared. Some say that the dragons grew tired of the mortals’ simple minds. Whatever the case, without the dragons, the wizards had little reason to keep coming back.”
“But someone cares for this place,” E’enna said. “No dust on the windowsills, no overgrown plants, not even a single cobweb. Surely, someone has been tending to this city and fighting off looters.”
“This is a city built by the magic of dragons,” Ilagon said. “No one may enter the city who is not friend to dragons. In fact, it is hidden to the eyes of all mortals unless they are invited guests.”
“And yet, here we all stand,” Shanks said, eyeing his surroundings warily. “I don’t recall receiving an invitation. Anyone else?”
Ilagon raised an eyebrow. “It would appear someone has been expecting us.”
“Look at that!” E’enna shouted, pointing to a very large building just west of the fountain. “There are lit candles in the windows!”
And indeed there was a small yellow candle glowing in every one of the dozens of windows of the tall building.
“There were no candles burning in those windows a moment ago, I am sure of it,” Kazen whispered nervously.
Ilagon started walking slowly to the building. “Well, perhaps our host is inviting us in.”
They made their way cautiously to the enormous, solid wooden doors at the front of the structure. The vaulted doors stretched up three stories and were almost as wide as the building itself. This particular edifice was adorned much more elaborately than any of the other buildings. Giant golden bells dangled from an open tower on top of the structure. Intricate carvings and sculptures bordered each window and every corner.
“It would take twenty men to open these doors,” Shanks said.
“Perhaps you could use your magic.” E’enna pointed to Ilagon.
“No.” Ilagon shook his head. “Our magic will not work as long as we are within the borders of this city.”
“I cannot say that brings me much comfort,” Shanks grumbled as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the gigantic door, which swung open at his touch.
“Splendid!” Ilagon said with a clap of his hands.
Shanks just caught himself before stumbling backward. “Well, I suppose they wouldn’t want to make the rat trap too difficult for the rats to get into.”
“Nonsense.” Ilagon scoffed with a wave of his hand. “Your skepticism is well taken, but we are practically on holy grounds. No harm shall come to us here.”
Entering through the open door, they stopped abruptly and stared with wonder at the sight before them. The room opened up to a vast hall with knotted pine floors, which were polished to a mirror finish. Massive black-and-claret-streaked marble pillars lined the great hall and stretched up to the lofty ceiling. Decorative banners and tapestries were draped along the walls, and dark-blue velvet curtains hung from each window. Red-and-blue carpets with frilled edges were neatly aligned at the entryway. Golden candelabras towered over their heads and glowed warmly with the light of countless yellow candles. At the back of the hall was a great hearth that crackled softly with the soothing aroma of burning maple, and in the middle of the chamber was a huge, rectangular table that had been crafted from the finest mahogany. The legs of the long table were carved into the shape of dragon claws, and at least thirty empty chairs were evenly placed on either side.
On the table was a bounty of food unlike Kazen had ever seen. Fruits of every color and shape were piled in huge wooden bowls. Warm loaves of bread steamed from under thick white cloths. Whole pheasants and grouse were lined up side-by-side, basted and browned. Gold and silver goblets were filled to the brim with sweet wine and fruit juice.
“Ilagon?” Kazen uttered, never taking his eyes off of the table.
“Yes, Kazen?”
“Would it be terribly rude of us to begin eating before our host announces himself?” Kazen was already moving slowly to
ward the table.
“Indeed. And we must remember to offer our apologies when he arrives.”
With that, they all rushed to the table and began devouring the succulent banquet that had been laid out for them. Kazen had no idea he was capable of eating so much. He gobbled down an entire bird and two loaves of bread before he even stopped to take a breath. Though he did not normally care for spirits, the wine was as sweet and smooth as honey, and he drank enough for his head to feel warm and hazy. Finally, he leaned back in the comfortable wooden chair and rubbed his ribs, which ached with fullness.
E’enna was munching contentedly on a handful of purple grapes while Shanks still gnawed on a greasy pheasant leg. Ilagon sipped civilly at his goblet of red wine as he stood by the smoldering fireplace.
“Now then, I would surely like to thank our mysterious host for such a generous and delectable meal,” Shanks said, using one of his daggers to pick out a piece of meat stuck between his teeth.
Ilagon absently tapped his finger on his cup. “I am not sure why our host has chosen to remain hidden. As generous as he has been, however, I believe we should afford them our patience.”
Everyone nodded.
“Shanks,” he continued, “I think you and I should have a look around. A magnificent hall such as this is sure to have sleeping accommodations, and we could all use a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.” He pointed to Kazen and E’enna. “You two stay put. If our hosts do show up before nightfall, someone should be here to greet them.”
Kazen stood up with a contented stretch. “All right, but we want a fair chance at picking the softest beds, too.”
“All right,” Ilagon agreed, chuckling, “we will not try out any of the beds until we are all present.”
While Shanks and Ilagon ascended the spiral stairs, Kazen and E’enna flopped onto the down pillows scattered in front of the glowing hearth. Though the hall was vast and empty, Kazen felt very cozy and at ease here. He was content to watch the tiny bits of lint and dust floating aimlessly in the rays of golden sun that filtered through the many windows.
“Do you really think dragons built this place?” E’enna asked, resting her chin in her palm.
“Of course. Ilagon knows many things. If he says this city was built by dragons, you can believe it.”
“I don’t doubt him. It’s just that I’ve never seen a dragon before. Not for real, anyway. But in paintings they always look like monsters.”
Kazen sat up and tucked his knees under his arms. “Ilagon said that dragons were like people, some good and some bad. I expect it was the good ones that made this city.”
“I suppose.” E’enna shrugged. “So who is this person you are here to see, anyway?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Kazen shook his head. “An elder or something like that. He is supposed to be very wise. Ilagon said he would know what we are to do. He is going to tell us how to stop Gregore, I guess.”
E’enna stared at Kazen for a long while. “Can I see it?” she finally asked.
“See what?”
“That mark on your hand.”
Self-consciously, Kazen held his open hand out. E’enna looked at the symbol engraved into his palm and gently traced the circles with her index finger. “What does it mean?”
Kazen slowly pulled his hand back and hid it under his leg. “Nothing. It doesn’t mean anything.”
E’enna twirled her finger absently through her hair as she carefully looked Kazen over. “I hope it’s true, you know.”
“You hope what is true?” Kazen shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.
“That you are the one who can stop Gregore and his madness.”
Kazen exhaled heavily and sank into his shoulders.
“I’ve spent most of my life awaiting the coming of the darkness,” E’enna went on. “Since I could hold a staff in my hand, I’ve been preparing. I’ve traveled with Shanks to nearly every kingdom west of the mountains to warn the kings of Gregore’s coming. Most of those who would listen dismissed us as ranting lunatics. They fear nothing from the east. They think the Pale Mountains are insurmountable, and that no army, no matter its making, could pass over its great walls.
“So, we fight back the shadow alone, one demon at a time. And, we have done some good, thwarting off attacks on a few villages, convincing a few families to flee east, but it is all so pointless. The beasts who have wandered into these lands have been weak and few, only a hint of what is to come. When Gregore does release his army, it will be like a flood of death and ruin. Yet, few will heed our warnings. They live out their lives, oblivious to what is coming.
“I have always known and accepted that there was little chance for the people of these lands. I knew that one day the land would wither under the cold breath of shadow, for with the death of the Flame Weaver died all hope of ever defeating Gregore. But now, you are here, alive and well, and I feel hope for the first time ever.”
Kazen swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to stop Gregore. Up until a few weeks ago I had never even heard that name.” He hugged his knees tightly to his chest. “I wish I had the heart of a champion, but the truth is I fall asleep every night terrified of what the next day will bring. I fear I am not the hero everyone is looking for.”
“And yet here you are.” E’enna slid herself closer to Kazen. “Any fool can rush blindly into danger and call himself a hero. But a real hero is someone who presses on in spite of their own fears.”
“I wish I could believe that.” Kazen sighed. “But to be honest, you are far more worthy of this task than I am. You and Shanks, you’re both so brave. I mean, just look at the life you have led.” He gawked at her with envy. “You are more fearless than any man I have ever met! You’re entire life has been a brave adventure, battling nightmarish demons while I slept in a warm bed, my only concern being how I was going to worm my way out of my daily chores for the next day.”
E’enna laughed.
“And you do it all without fear,” Kazen added.
“Without fear?” E’enna gaped. “I’m afraid every day. Most mornings I wake up hoping that my entire life has been just a nightmare, and that this time . . . this time I’ll wake up and it will all disappear.”
“Then why do you do it? Why do you put yourself at such risk when you don’t have to?”
“I do have to! Just as surely as you do! Vengeance is not a passion that grips only the hearts of men! I am the only one left who can fight for the memory of my people and my family.”
Kazen sank back into his pillows. “I’m sorry,” he whispered softly.
E’enna flopped down into her pillows as well.
“Will you tell me what happened to them?” Kazen asked. “I want to know. I want to know what has brought you here.”
E’enna looked away, her eyes glimmering with sadness.
“Please,” Kazen pressed. “I need to know what it is I’m fighting for.”
Twisting a loose curl of hair around her finger, she bit down nervously on her lower lip. “I was very young when it happened.” She shrugged. “I can only remember bits and pieces. It was summer . . . I think. I remember because my mother was wearing her favorite blue dress . . . It always smelled like flowers.” She smiled at the warm memory. “My father made me come in early from playing because of a sudden frost that had settled over the land. He complained about having to dig out the winter quilts from the attic in the middle of summer.
“And that quickly, day turned into night. Men with torches and wild dogs on chains, they set the entire valley up in flames. Huge shadows circled the dark sky. I remember hearing people screaming.” Shuddering, E’enna curled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. “It all happened so fast. My parents hid me under the kitchen table and went out to help defend our village. But it was hopeless. My people were not fighters. The old folk were all slain, their bodies tossed like garbage into the burning buildings. All of the younger men
and women, my parents, were taken prisoner and carted away.
“It did not take them long to find me. I was put into a caged wagon along with the other children from the village. We traveled for weeks over mountains and planes, barely fed and forced to heal their sick and wounded. Many of the children died healing wounds that were too severe. By the time we reached what would be our final destination, I was the only child left alive.
“I remember seeing the beautiful white walls of a stone city, and I remember crying when they crumbled like parchment before the dark army. The battle seemed to last a lifetime. The terrible noise was so loud and the fires so tall, I thought it was the end of the world. It was only years later that I learned that much of that dark army was in fact my own people, transformed by black magic into those hideous, mindless creatures.
“When it was over, the army moved on, leaving nothing but wasted land and cinders in its wake. I don’t know if I was forgotten or if my keepers had no further use for me, but I was left alone in my cage on the empty battlefield. For two days I struggled to escape until I had finally wasted away enough that I was able to slip through the iron bars.
“Wandering through the debris and rubble of the fallen city, I searched desperately for food when I stumbled over what I thought was just another dead body. The man twisted and moaned and I realized he was still alive. I’d like to say I healed the man out of pity and unselfish kindness. But I just wanted so desperately to be taken care of and to be comforted. So I healed him, and almost died in the process. But it was worth it, because the man did take me in and care for me, and he’s been my father ever since.”
“Shanks?”
“Yes.” E’enna wiped a tear from her nose.
“You were at Graffis,” Kazen uttered in astonishment. “I was there, too.”
“I know. You were on the other side of those white walls. I have always known your name. From the gossiping tongues of my captors, to the fireside tales told to me by Shanks, your story has always been with me. But until we met it was only a fable, a sad story where the hero dies.
The Flame Weaver Page 12