“When Ilagon first spoke your name, when I realized who you were, I was angry that you were alive. My people, the wizards, and the men of Graffis, they had all died in your name. That you should live while so many have died in your stead . . . I . . . I saw you only through selfish eyes. At last there was someone tangible I could blame for my family’s death and all that I had suffered through. I wanted you to suffer, too. I wanted to hate you.” She looked up at Kazen with pain in her eyes. “But I couldn’t hate you, as much as I tried. I’m sorry for thinking such terrible things. I hope you can forgive me.”
Smiling warmly, Kazen nudged her playfully with his elbow. “As long as you promise not to hit me again.”
E’enna grinned and stretched out contently beside him.
He yawned sleepily, sinking deeper into his mountain of pillows. “Besides, I’m glad you’re here with me.”
E’enna beamed back with winsome eyes. “Me, too.”
“You and Shanks, that is,” he added awkwardly.
“Oy!” Ilagon called from the balcony high above them. “Come on up, you two! Your accommodations await!”
Ilagon seemed more excited than Kazen could ever remember seeing him. He smiled broadly and waved eagerly for them to come up the stairs.
Kazen and E’enna held on to the black iron rail of the winding staircase as they made their way to the second floor. Only less impressive by size and not by grandeur, the long hallway stretched out endlessly before them. Enormous painted vases lined the corridor and overflowed with lengthy feathers that shimmered with stunning greens and blues. Tall canvases upon every wall, graced by the stroke of an artist’s brush, brought to life the images of breathtaking sunsets and stormy seas.
Ilagon led them down the hall past a dozen wooden doors before stopping. “I believe you may find this room suitable for the night, Kazen.” He cast the door open with a boyish smile.
The room was more spacious than their entire home back in Napis Fare. Soft green carpet lined the floor, and the walls were painted to match. A huge round canopy bed sat in the center of the room, topped with more pillows than Kazen had ever seen all in one place. Sheer blue curtains hung from each post and were tied back with delicate green ivy. Armoires and dressers, of kingly design, stood tall against each wall. A silver chandelier, with its two-dozen branches, hung by braided chains from the center of the high ceiling. Petite white candles glowed warmly from within the tiny glass globes set upon the fingers of each branch. By the bed was a small wooden chest, and set upon it was an oval mirror. A washbowl and towel had been neatly laid out as well.
Most inviting, however, was the blue marble tub at the far end of the room. It sat on a raised step in front of a frosted bay window. Kazen was very aware that it had been quite sometime since he had been able to bathe, and his whole body itched at the thought of a hot bath.
“Have a look at this,” Ilagon said with great exuberance as he ushered them over to the tub. He reached up and pulled on a gold tasseled rope that hung from the ceiling. Water flooded out from under the lip of the tub and steam began to billow out as the tub filled.
Kazen laughed in amazement. “That’s fantastic! The tub is actually filling itself with water! Hot water!”
Everyone stared into the tub with astonished delight for a few moments.
“Well, then!” Ilagon placed a gentlemanly arm around E’enna. “For you, my dear, I think something in red, perhaps. I have just the room for you. If you will just step this way, we will leave master Kazen to his evening bath.” He gleefully escorted E’enna out of the room and closed the door.
Looking around the extravagant room, Kazen thought about what kind of people used to stay here. Nobles, kings, and powerful wizards, he guessed. It was a decadent luxury for Kazen, but he wondered if it would be considered substandard to a more cultured class.
He undressed and tossed his filthy clothes into the steaming tub. The water was still a little on the hot side, but he was not about to wait another moment. Cautiously, he stepped into the tub and slowly lowered himself into the water. He winced as the hot water reddened his bare skin and stung his sensitive toes. With a definitive sigh, he sank down to his neck.
Steam loomed up from the tub and rapidly fogged up the bay window, obscuring the tangerine dusk that settled over the dragon city. A silver tray filled with flower petals and scented soaps lay beside the tub on a stone table. The scent of the delicate flowers mingled with the billows of steam, filling the whole room with the sweet aroma.
Fighting the urge to close his eyes and drift away in some lazy dream, Kazen snatched a block of soap and began scrubbing his hair vigorously. Now and then he would stop and listen to an odd sound that he could not quite place. At first it almost sounded like the baying of a hound, and then it seemed to change to a more guttural, clucking noise. The strange noise seemed to be coming from down the hall. It grew to be so distracting at one point that Kazen nearly got out of the tub to investigate before realizing that the awful noise was only Shanks bellowing out a merry tune.
Kazen soaked in the tub until his fingers pruned and the water turned cold. He rung out his clothes and draped them over the side of the tub. Searching through the cabinets and dressers, he found a soft, white nightshirt that fit well enough. He had not slept in a real bed for longer than he could remember, and especially not one so soft and inviting. Slipping under the velvety blankets, he felt he finally knew what total contentment was. A sleepy haze quickly over took him and he drifted into a restful slumber.
Chapter 11
Squinting through sleepy eyes, Kazen saw the morning sun was already high in the eastern sky. Cursing himself for sleeping so late, he jumped out of bed and changed back into his damp clothes. He hastily snatched a dagger from his pack and ran the dry blade over his face, nicking himself several times in the process. After smoothing his hair back with wet hands, he hurried out the door and down the stairs.
The others were already sitting at the massive table. A new spread of food had been set out for breakfast. Mountains of steaming muffins and biscuits were piled high on silver platters. There were fresh plates of grapes and apples in the center of the table. Kettles of hot tea, still bubbling, were placed at every setting.
Everyone looked very much renewed from their good night’s rest. Their faces, no longer covered in dried mud, seemed brighter and healthier. Ilagon had a cleanly shaven face and E’enna’s hair was tucked back neatly in a tail. Even Shanks had cleaned up nicely. His beard was trimmed and his hair had been rebraided into more manageable locks. Though still in their same tattered clothes, one would scarcely be able tell all the trouble they had been through.
“You should have waked me!” Kazen complained as he sat down beside Ilagon.
“We have only just come down ourselves,” Ilagon assured him. “However, it seems our host has once again been hard at work.”
“When do you suppose we’ll have the pleasure?” E’enna asked.
“I do not know,” Ilagon replied. “I certainly hope it will be soon, though. As delightful a place as this is, our business is still pressing. We cannot afford to delay much longer.”
“Perhaps we should have a better look around today,” Shanks suggested.
“I’m for that!” Kazen mumbled, barely audibly through cheeks tightly packed with apple-buttered biscuits.
Shanks chuckled. “The bottomless pit has spoken! So shall it be done!”
“Searching the city is an excellent idea,” Ilagon agreed. “If we split up, we can cover most of the city by this afternoon.”
Shanks shook his head. “I think we should stay together.”
“But Ilagon said we are safe here,” E’enna said.
“Nevertheless, I think we should at least stay in pairs.”
“Very well, then,” Ilagon concurred. “You and E’enna can go east. Kazen and I will go west. We shall meet back here before dusk.”
“And what exactly are we looking for?” E’enna asked.
&nb
sp; “Supplies,” Ilagon answered. “Whether our host decides to present himself or not, we should be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Clothes, travelable food, water skins, anything we can find that will aid us in our journey.”
So, after a satisfying breakfast, the company went off on their separate ways. Ilagon and Kazen made their way leisurely through the twisting streets of Crenin Non, stopping inside random buildings in search of useful supplies. Most of the shops and homes were barren inside, without even a barrel or piece of furniture. The few crates and boxes they did come across were generally filled with useless trinkets.
Happening upon a tailor shop, they found dozens of bolts of brightly colored rolled cloth, much of it reminiscent of Pietro and his colorful family. Ilagon inspected the fabric briefly, but concluded it was all too thin to be of any use. There was little in the way of completed clothing, only a few neatly folded fancy shirts and dress pants, which would better suit a wealthy noble than a vagabond group such as theirs.
The afternoon passed slowly as they made their way through the endless narrow alleys. Kazen tried not to let on how bored he was, but he kept finding himself getting distracted and falling behind. By the third time of having to stop, Ilagon was getting obviously irritated.
“If there is something on your mind, let us have it already.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that we have traveled so far to get here, and now that we have finally arrived, there is nothing. I just wish this elder, or whoever it is, would stop playing games. That is who you think our host is, is it not?”
Ilagon nodded. “Yes, but I do not think he is playing games. Most likely, he is still deciding whether or not we are worthy of his council.”
“Have you ever met him?”
“Yes, once. When I was a young child, Greytok brought me along on a visit to this city. I was lucky enough to meet the elder. He was very kind to me then. It would do my heart good to see him again.”
“What makes him an elder, anyway? Is he just old?”
Ilagon laughed. “Well, though it is true that wisdom often comes with age, I think he would be considered shrewd even at half his age.”
Kazen wrinkled his brow. “I don’t wish to sound cold, but if he was so old when you were a child, is it not possible he could already be dead?”
“That is very unlikely.” Ilagon smiled. “He has a very strong heart.”
“Well, I hope he at least has some good advice. Perhaps he can advise Shanks on his table manners.” Kazen sniggered. “A few more weeks of watching him pick food out of his beard might be too much for me to take.”
Ilagon eyed Kazen earnestly. “Kazen, I know you have grown close to Shanks and E’enna. However, there is no guarantee they will be continuing on with us once we leave the city.”
Kazen stared blankly back at Ilagon.
“They were kind enough to travel with us this far to help assure our safe arrival to the dragon city, but we cannot ask them to risk their lives any more than they already have.”
Kazen felt a distinct pain in his chest. The thought of saying goodbye to his friends was agonizing. Part of him knew that Ilagon was right, to ask them to put themselves in further danger would be wrong. The other part, however, knew that without his dear friends, his journey would be painfully lonely and even more perilous. “Yes, you are right, of course.”
Ilagon sighed and dug his hands into his pockets. “Well, let us take a quick look in these last few houses on this street, then we shall head back to the hall.”
Kazen nodded without a word, following slowly behind.
The remaining buildings were as fruitless as all the rest. No one had inhabited these houses for years, and they had been sure to take everything when they left. The only things they found that could have been remotely useful were a few water skins. Unfortunately, they were so dried and cracked from sitting by a sunny window that they could scarcely even hold water.
The walk back to the hall was silent and dreary. Kazen could not help but to feel sorry for himself. The future looked bleaker than ever. He wondered if he were destined to be alone. If the journey ahead was too dangerous for Shanks and E’enna, perhaps it would be wrong to ask even Ilagon to stay on with him. Kazen was, after all, the Flame Weaver. It was his calling to stop Gregore, and no one else’s. What right did he have to endanger any of his friends? He could only hope the elder would have good news and fair wisdom to share.
It was nearly twilight by the time they made it back to the great hall. As they approached, they could just see E’enna and Shanks rounding the other side of the building. Shanks held up several bows as E’enna wrestled with a stack of blankets.
“Looks as if they have had better luck than we have,” Ilagon said.
Kazen smiled and took off over a small hill toward them. He was stopped abruptly, however, when his face smashed hard into something, sending him tumbling backward and landing him solidly on his backside. Shaking his head and rubbing his nose, he looked for what he had run into. There was absolutely nothing there.
As Kazen looked closer, however, there was definitely something odd. He blinked his eyes tightly, sure that his eyes must be out of focus. The area in front of him began to warp and contort. The colors of the grass, the road, and even the horizon seemed to pool together and melt into one another. A definite outline began to take shape. Where there once seemed to be nothing, there was now, most certainly, something.
What seemed to be landscape and empty space was apparently just a clever illusion. Something painted to blend perfectly and ultimately disappear into the scenery. But not painted, for the colors continued to dissolve in front of Kazen’s eyes.
The huge mass began to twist and stretch until it stood almost two stories high. A muted growl rumbled from the belly of the emerging creature as the colors drained away. Kazen gasped as the true form of the beast was finally revealed.
A massive, four-toed foot with pointed claws stomped heavily on the soft grass, shaking the ground. Lustrous, silver scales covered the creature from head to toe, its belly slightly paler than the rest of the body. Jagged, scaly plates ran down its long neck and brawny back, all the way to the point of its long, slender tail, which flicked and wagged. Two small, bull-like horns protruded from the top of its regal head. The creature turned and raised its expansive wings with a crackling stretch. It was four-legged beneath its great body, though its two front paws were more slender than the back with toes more lengthy and fingerlike. Its fierce jaws gaped open with a gurgling yawn as it flapped its tremendous wings against its chest. The gust of wind nearly knocked Kazen and Ilagon to the ground. His eyes wide and terrified, Kazen slowly pulled his sword from his shoulder.
“No, Kazen!” Ilagon hissed, putting his hand on Kazen’s sword.
The beast crouched to the ground and steadied its emerald eyes on Kazen. A thundering growl rolled in its throat. “Is that anyway to greet an old friend, Edric?”
Kazen stammered, utterly bewildered. “You! You are a dragon!”
Bearing its rows of vicious-looking teeth, the creature smiled and chuckled boisterously. “Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me, boy!”
Kazen’s eyes remained unblinking as the dragon’s careful gaze moved to Ilagon. “And you,” it rumbled, squinting at Ilagon. “You seem familiar to me as well.”
Ilagon bowed gracefully before the impressive dragon. “I am Ilagon of the Order of Silver Dragons. We met once, many years ago, when I was only a boy.”
The dragon tapped its chin lightly with its sharp claw. “Ilagon . . . Ilagon . . . Ah, yes! Greytok’s pupil. You were always a smart lad. My, how you’ve grown! Has it really been that long? The years do pass quickly, don’t they?”
“That they do, m’lord.” Ilagon beamed happily.
Shanks and E’enna came rushing to Kazen’s side, their weapons drawn.
“It is all right, everyone!” Ilagon assured them. “I would like you all to meet a very old friend. This is Valduron, the king of t
he dragons. He is our gracious host, and the elder we have been seeking.”
They stared with their mouths gaping open as Valduron bowed his head, almost to the ground.
Ilagon put a hand on the dragon’s sizeable head. “My lord Valduron, these are my dearest friends. This is Zaris Wyk. He is an esteemed member of the Silver Dragons.”
“I am glad the times see you fit, noble warrior,” Valduron tipped his head. “Your presence here brings honor to this humble city.”
Shanks smiled with wonder. “It is I who am humbled in your presence, Your Magnificence.”
“Magnificence?” Valduron chuckled. “Oh, I like that! But such titles are not fitting for new friends. Valduron will do quite nicely.”
“Very well, Valduron.” Shanks bowed. “Then you may call me Shanks, if it pleases you.”
“I believe that is the name that suits you best,” Valduron replied.
Ilagon extended his arm to E’enna. “And this is E’enna Nah Giel.”
Valduron leaned very close to E’enna. “You are different from the others. A healer, lest my senses deceive me.”
E’enna did not look particularly comfortable standing so close the jaws of a dragon. She shifted awkwardly and did not raise her eyes to meet Valduron’s gaze.
“Yes, she is,” Ilagon interjected. “We believe she may be the last.”
Valduron stared at E’enna for what seemed a very long time. He then began to speak softly to her in her native tongue. No one knew what he said to her, but her eyes welled with tears and she seemed to melt before him. She smiled tenderly back at him and answered shyly in her language.
The king of the dragons slowly turned his gaze to Kazen. “And for you I need no introductions. It is good to see you, Edric. But you are late! I had begun to fear the worst. How are you, old friend?”
Still slightly dazed, Kazen’s voice cracked as he spoke. “I am fine, Sire. It is an honor to meet you, at last. And, though it is my privilege that you call me by any name at all, to most I am called Kazen.”
“Kazen, is it?” Valduron mused. “And before that, I believe it was Kelric, and before that, Jaik. You’ve had countless names. I never could keep them all straight. The first was Edric. It has always been my favorite. I hope you don’t mind humoring an old dragon.”
The Flame Weaver Page 13