Offspring (The Sword of the Dragon)

by Appleton, Scott

  After the courier delivered the sealed dispatch, he left.

  Going indoors, Ilfedo sat at the table and opened the letter written on animal skin. Laura and Caritha had been cooking dinner, but they paused and looked at the letter.

  “What do you have there?” Laura asked.

  “Trouble, likely.” He laid out the skin and read aloud:

  To the Lord Warrior:

  Greetings from your faithful subjects. To you be health and prosperity all of your days. May Yimshi shine down with favor on you.

  With high consideration to your many duties, we request your attention to a matter that has presented itself in our midst: A creature of formidable strength has, in a single night, destroyed the town of Bordelin. Many of the town’s inhabitants were slain, but a privileged few escaped the monster’s clutches to tell us their tale.

  All the reports gathered from survivors were consistent, so we sent warriors and hunters to find the creature. They followed its tracks into the southern desert, but none of them has returned, and no word of their whereabouts has been received. We fear that the worst has befallen them and that our lives may also be in danger.

  The survivors have stated that the creature stands on six legs and exhales poisonous vapors from its nostrils. Some say that it breathes fire as well. Reports indicate that the creature’s hide is too thick to be penetrated by a spear and that it stands about ten feet high at the shoulders.

  We are at a loss what to do unless a champion is sent to our aid. Please help us and avenge the innocents whose lives were so brutally taken.

  We are respectfully,

  Your humble subjects of the Hemmed Land’s Southern Border

  Ilfedo set the letter down, rose, and walked to the fireplace. This was supposed to be his vacation, yet this report was the second he had received today. Earlier he’d read a note given to him by another messenger, that one sent by Ombre.

  For the last couple months Ilfedo had received disturbing news of vipers coming out of the northern desert under cover of darkness and poisoning people along the Hemmed Land’s border whilst they slept. A dozen people had died, and he had sent Ombre to assess the situation from the safety of Fort North.

  Caritha interrupted his thoughts.

  “You look perplexed.” “You might say that. This problem is along the southern border, and I already sent word to Ombre that I will meet him at Fort North within the next few days. I need to make certain the Art’en are not behind the viper problem. My previous struggles with them focused on the northern border. If the Art’en have returned, then Ombre will need my help in dealing with them.”

  Footsteps alerted him to the other sisters’ presence. Rose’el, Evela, and Levena came from their bedrooms.

  “Well, that cuts our vacation short,” Caritha said with a sigh. “Say no more, Ilfedo. We will deal with this situation.”

  Rose’el huffed in a very loud manner and placed her hands on her hips. “Like he didn’t know that you would volunteer our services.”

  He returned her accusation with a smile. “Whom else can I rely on to truly get the job done? I could send soldiers, but they would not be as efficient. I can’t send the Elite Thousand because they are deployed along the northern border. I can’t send Ombre because he is engaged at Fort North.” He shook his head. “Of course—you don’t have to go.”

  Drawing her rusty sword from the fold in her garment, Caritha sobered. “We will reap vengeance on the creature. Its blood will be spilled in payment for the blood it shed.” Her hands glowed, and her sword’s blade gave out a steady reddish light as she spoke.

  The others followed her lead. Raising their swords, they formed a circle and touched their blades together in the center before pulling them back with lightning speed. “The five who are one,” Ilfedo murmured. “May your swords execute justice in the Hemmed Land.”

  Putting away her sword, Evela cleared her throat then looked at him. “Actually, there is one more whom we would like to add to our party.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”

  “Oganna is ready, Ilfedo. In fact, she can stand among us as an equal.”

  The others nodded their approval. Caritha spoke up. “She has the makings of greatness, Ilfedo. Let her come with us.”

  “No. To that I will not consent. She is too young.”

  “Only in your mind, my brother.” Caritha laid her hand on the table. “Did she not prove herself capable when she bested me?”

  He shook his head, determined not to concede the issue. “Continue to train her in your ways, if you must. But do not permit her involvement in potentially lethal situations. When I feel she is ready, I will let you know.”

  “You send us into ‘potentially lethal’ situations quite often,” Laura said. He could tell she regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth. She apologized and asked his forgiveness.

  He waved it aside and put a hand on her shoulder. “I will think on the things you have said, and I am pleased that you hold Oganna in such high esteem. However, I do not believe she is ready. She is too young.”

  Standing outside, Oganna had heard the majority of the conversation through the skin that hung in the doorway. She was both saddened and hurt by her father’s apparent lack of confidence in her. Evela was right. She was ready. Why could he not see that? Was he letting his fears interfere with his judgment in this matter? Regardless of the reason, she reached a decision of her own, but she went indoors and made no indication of what she’d heard.

  Later when night had fallen and everyone slept soundly, Oganna slipped a robe over her silky nightgown and put on wool slippers, quietly opened her bedroom door, and peered around the kitchen and living room area. Embers glowed in the fireplace, casting flickering light around the room.

  She tiptoed into the kitchen and opened an upper cabinet. It was too dark to see what lay on the top shelf, but she knew what she was looking for. Her fingers found a large iron lantern. She pulled it down and set it on the counter. Then she slid open one of the drawers by the sink and plucked out a small can of matches. Closing the drawer and the cabinet door, she tightened the cord around her robe and opened the house door.

  Chill air blasted her, and the coals in the fireplace flared. After closing the door, she lit the lantern. Overhead a blanket of clouds blocked most of the stars, and no moonlight warmed the forest. She ran into the woods, following a familiar, albeit unmarked, trail beneath the high trees.

  Owls hooted from every direction, and a possum skittered out of her path. At last she stopped at the crest of Mathaliah Hollow and gazed down, reaching out her senses to determine if Specter was nearby. Blue grass pretty much filled the hollow and outlined the cave entrance.

  “Specter!” A gust of wind stole her voice, and she ran to the cave entrance, shivering. If he was there, she could not sense him. “Are you here?” She walked into the cave’s main chamber and found it empty except for the old sword and crystalline boomerang. She drew in her breath slowly, then knelt in front of the weapons and reached out to at last take her sword.

  “Oganna, why have you come to me at this hour?” Specter coalesced beside her, his face buried in the depths of his hood. His hand held the black-handled scythe. Its blade glistened as she set her lantern on the ground.

  Craning her neck to look up at him, she smiled. “The time has come for me to take my place among the dragon’s daughters. Father is sending the Warrioresses into the southern desert to find a creature that raided our border towns. It is the mission that I was born to begin, Specter. I know it in the deepest reaches of my soul.”

  “Does your father know of this?”

  “No. And for the time being I do not wish him to. His grieving is an obstacle that he must be forced to surmount; otherwise I will forever be a prisoner of his fear.”

  The man reached for his hood with his free hand and slipped it off his head. As his hand dropped back to his side, she noticed for the first time the extent of his old burns. Without thinking
she reached out and touched his injuries. Immediately the power in her dragon blood boiled forth, her hand glowed blue, and when she withdrew it, Specter’s hand had been healed.

  His mouth startled open. He brought his hand up and examined it for several long moments. “Strange, someone else tried to heal those wounds when you were very young, and I objected. I told him that I was proud to bear those scars because they had been inflicted while saving an innocent life. You have a strange effect on me, child. I feel—grateful—and I thought I would resent it.”

  “I … I don’t know how or why.” She looked down at her hand, turning it over. “I just reached out, and it happened.”

  “You are growing very strong, child. I think even the dragon’s daughters underestimate your potential. You have the strength of your father and the compassion and purity of your mother—a potent mix.” He laughed and held up his once-burned hand. “The innocent life I once saved when I received this injury was your life.”

  “Mine?” She frowned. Why would he have received an injury saving her life before she could remember? “How did it happen?”

  He let her words hang in the air and merely smiled. She sighed, knowing that the secrets this man harbored would take a lifetime to dredge up. Facing the sword and the boomerang, she sighed again. “Now that I am here, I’m not sure what to do with them.”

  Specter stood still as a statue.

  “This sword looks similar to those my aunts are carrying. And its blade is rusted also, yet not so extensively, and the blade is longer than theirs.” She reached out, grasping the handle that she’d been forbidden to take and that she had not touched in all these years. The blade glowed ruby red and the crystalline handle shone white, then dimmed.

  She released her hold and pulled Specter out of the cave. He appeared confused, as she expected him to be. She took his scythe from his hand and began cutting the glowing blades of grass and kicking them into heaps. Before long she had mowed down the majority of the beautiful growth. She smiled however, for the blades that she had severed continued to glow.

  After dropping the scythe, she filled her arms with the glowing grass and grinned at Specter as she reentered the cave. “Do not come in. Whatever you do, stay out there.”

  “W … what? But why?”

  “Just do as I say. Please.” Again and again she filled her arms, then heaped the grass inside the cave. Its glow, as that of many flickering candles, dimly illuminated the cave’s interior. When she finished, she sat on the moist floor and centered herself, meditating. Yes, there it was! Energy, a source of fresh power, radiated from the blue blades. It was a power source she could draw on. Just as her father had drawn it with his sword, she fed on it with the power in her dragon blood.

  Rising, she found Specter’s stash of dry kindling and dead logs. Although she doubted he’d ever lived in this cave, she knew he frequented it, and the dampness was enough to make anyone desire a fire’s warmth. She tossed the wood onto the glowing grass and then dropped to her hands and knees. Carefully she arranged some wood on a dryer section of the cave floor. Then she used a match to start a blaze.

  When the little fire ran its course the dirt beneath it had dried somewhat. She stood back several feet, held her hand palm toward the ashes, and squinted her eyes. If only she could clear the dirt away from the stone beneath. As the thought passed through her mind, her hand glowed. White energy blasted from her hand, and she gasped. The energy impacted the dirt, sending it flying in all directions, including her face.

  She wiped the dirt off and smiled to herself. The floor ahead had been cleared of all dirt. Only flat, shining stone remained.

  Kneeling, Oganna ran her hand over the stone, feeling every imperfection. Then she folded her hands and pictured God on his throne. “God, you know what is in my heart. You know how many people have suffered and how some have even died for my sake. I have an opportunity now to use my unique heritage to help others. Now, in my time of need, grant me a weapon that my dragon powers will feed. Grant me a weapon to defend my people. And please give me wisdom to exercise strength with humility.”

  So saying she rose and, stretching forth her hands with palms facing one another, waited as crackling energy spiked from one hand to the other. A ball of light spun into existence, pulsating blinding white light that forced her to avert her gaze. Then she threw the energy with great force into the pile of night grass and sticks, engulfing it in flames.

  The heat of the fire built until steam rose along the cave walls. Specter raced in and opened his mouth in horror. “What are you doing? Get out of there!” He raised his arm, shielding his face from the waves of heat rolling toward the cave entrance. “Oganna, get out of there before you kill yourself!”

  But she formed another ball of light and threw it into the blaze. The flames rose to the ceiling, sweeping toward the exit. “I told you to stay outside!” She spun on Specter and held out her hand, sending a wave of energy that pushed him out of the cave. A second later flames roiled into the space he had filled.

  For some reason she could not explain, the heat did not affect her. The flames filled the cave, and she fed the inferno repeatedly with blasts of white energy until the stone walls arching above her began to melt and fall apart.

  Fire consumed the pile in its entirety, leaving a seething mass of liquid on the cave floor. While the cave continued to burn, she knelt and held one finger in the molten mass. A thrill passed through her when she pulled it out, white-hot like an iron poker! With this finger she carved two impressions in the stone floor—that of a sword and the form also of a boomerang. She took great care in designing the sword as she envisioned it should be and not as it currently was.

  When the impressions were complete, she grabbed the sword and the boomerang from their places. First she laid the boomerang in the impression. It fit perfectly. Then she balanced the sword in both hands and sadness filled her for a moment. A tear fell onto the old rusted blade and, as it ran down the blade, crimson rivulets ran out of the metal. Was that blood?

  Stunned, she dropped the weapon and watched. The blood ran off the blade’s tip and pooled in the impression she had carved for the sword. It formed into a sphere and held its place at the end of the handle, like a liquid jewel ready for placement.

  The heat intensified again, and now sweat poured from her body. The sweltering air drove the oxygen from her lungs. She had remained too long. Grabbing the sword, she positioned it in its mold and raced from the cave.

  On her way out she ran into Specter. In the light of the star-studded sky now visible through the thinned clouds, his face appeared fearful. He narrowed his eyes. “You have done enough for tonight. Come!” He caught her arm. “I’m taking you home.”

  “The thing that I am doing I cannot stop!” She desperately tried to shake him off, but his arms felt solid as iron. “Let me go. I will free myself by other means if you do not.”

  He dragged her toward the edge of the clearing.

  With her free hand she reached up and touched the side of his face. “I’m sorry, my dear guardian. But this task I have set myself to complete.” His eyes closed, and he collapsed to the ground.

  She covered him with his hooded cloak and then touched it. The fabric rendered him invisible, and she sped northward deeper into the hollow. There she found the dilapidated ruin of the cabin her grandparents had died in. And near the cabin she spotted the old well.

  Leaning over the lip, she drew up the old bucket by its chain. The water felt cold as ice. She ran it back to the cave, sped inside, and cast the water over the molten forms of the sword and boomerang. A blast of steam flooded her nostrils and stung her face. She ran outside, not stopping until she was a safe distance from the cave’s entrance.

  Daring to look back, she saw beams of light radiate from inside. Grazing deer scurried away, their white tails flashing as warning flags in the darkness. The cave blew up, and the ground shook beneath her feet. She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the blinding flashes
.

  There was another explosion, dazzling and more forceful than the previous eruptions. A beam of light blasted from the roof of the cave and shot into the sky. It traveled unhindered, thundering through the air, and then it lost momentum and fell back to the cave with a resounding crack. Its impact knocked her legs from under her, and she fell.

  She could feel the power within her growing in magnitude until she feared she would burst. Her hands glowed, and the grass around her fingers steamed as though it would catch fire. The energy surged through her one final time from her feet, ending at her finger tips. She shook her head to clear it and looked toward the cave.

  A woman, body blazing with fire, blocked her way. “Steady yourself, my child,” the woman said. “You have had a busy night.” She extended her arm and pulled Oganna to her feet. The stranger’s clothes were blazing fiercely with red and orange flames, yet they were not consumed. Her dress was crimson, and she wore a belt of silver and gold. Her hands were gloved, and the material appeared to be woven of silver. Her long, dark, wavy hair was held back with a silver strand. Flames obscured her face.

  The woman rested a hand on Oganna’s shoulder. “Use your powers for good, Oganna, and do not be corrupted by the lust for control.” She dropped her hand and walked away.

  “Wait!” Oganna held up a hand. “Who are you?” The woman retreated, wrapped herself in flames, and vanished.

  A tornado of air whipped the clearing, and a shadow obscured the stars. Leathern wings snapped against the wind, and great claws dug into the ground before her. Towering through the night was the great white dragon. Oganna caught her breath and eyed his tremendous form, strong yet agile.