by Ben Hale
Fifty feet ahead of them the corridor turned right, and whatever was around the corner caused light to extend onto the end of the tunnel. The light didn’t flicker, so it didn’t come from a fire, so that left magic. Frowning at the implications of that, he slid out of his hide and followed the wall to the end. Stopping a few inches from the corner, Taryn eased his head out to take a quick look.
Around the corner, the tunnel opened into a tremendous cavern at least half the height of the Giant’s Shelf. In one corner he saw the biggest beast he’d ever seen, the white dragon Israke, sleeping. The tunnel they were in would have barely fit the creature if he tried to leave by that route. Enormous white wings folded neatly onto his back, while his tremendous wedge-shaped head lay outstretched, revealing two enormous horns that curved back from the top of its skull.
Somewhere in Taryn’s mind, a tactical voice told him to check the rest of the room, and he managed to wrench his eyes from the dragon to examine the chamber. A quick scan revealed several oddities that could not be explained. The huge space was lit by several large glowing orbs, similar to the fireless torches that he had seen in Azertorn. They cast a bluish light, and allowed him to see the rest of the chamber.
He’d heard numerous tales that described dragon lairs, and at some point they always included piles of gold and jewels. But from his vantage point, he could see no such valuables. Instead, he saw that the cavernous space had four sections. Israke’s entire form dominated one corner, but the other three seemed out of place in the home of a dragon.
One corner contained numerous racks of weapons. Swords, staffs, shields, spears, and any other weapon he had ever seen, including some he hadn’t, were placed along frost covered beams. Many of them glimmered with hidden magic, and Taryn found himself wondering where the dragon had gotten them. Glancing back at the hilts of his own swords he guessed the unsettling answer.
Looking past the weapons, Taryn saw what could only be described as a library. Row upon row of bookshelves were filled with leather bound books of every size and shape. The library seemed so out of place that he looked back and forth between the dragon and the store of knowledge in confusion.
No ready answer presented itself, so he eased himself out of the wall a few more inches to see the nearest section of the cavern. His eyebrows shot up as he saw a house in the last corner. Complete with thatched roof and shuttered windows, the house in the corner of the dragon’s home sprawled over a large area. The main house looked ancient, but several additions appeared newer.
His gaze on the residence, Taryn’s curiosity got the best of him. He slid out into the corridor and worked his way down the tunnel. After each silent step he looked at the dragon to see if there was a response, but no movement caused him any alarm. In moments he stood at the front door. Trying the knob, he found it to be unlocked, and started to ease it open.
The resulting protest from the frozen hinges caused his heart to thunder in his ears as the sound echoed throughout the cavern. Taryn whirled, his eyes snapping to the dragon as he held his breath and waited. For several seconds he froze, trying to control his fear, but Israke didn’t move so he turned back to the house. He bit his lip in thought. The door’s hinges were frozen, so there was no way he could open it without making another sound. He’d been lucky on the first attempt, but didn’t want to risk his life on a second.
A furred body rubbed against his and he turned to see Tigraes looking at him. Dropping off the porch, the tigron led Taryn around the corner of the house and to an open window.
Smiling, he rubbed the cat’s large head in gratitude, and then slid into the house. Although dim, he managed to make out the small living room that he had entered. Conscious of the time and place, Taryn searched the house for any sign of life, but found none. Returning to the window, he realized that the only one with the answers was the enormous white dragon.
It was time to wake him.
Exiting the house, he considered his options for several seconds before settling on one of them. Boldness might cause the dragon to pause long enough, so he gathered every bit of his courage. Striding forward, he’d just passed the center when everything changed.
“Did you like my house, Taryn Elseerian?” a deep rumbling said. Then the swirling orbs of Israke’s eyes snapped opened and his head rose off the floor.
Taryn swallowed against the sight of the fully alert dragon, but his question penetrated his mind enough to force him to think. His house?
“How do you know my name?” Taryn asked, hoping his voice sounded even.
The dragon chuckled, a deep rasp that reverberated around the chamber with more menace than humor. “I knew you would be coming a long time ago.”
My mother came here too? Taryn thought, but before he could ask Israke continued.
“I have been waiting ten thousand years for you to visit my home,” Israke said.
Taryn shook his head, trying to comprehend the statement, but the huge white dragon chuckled again. “Perhaps it would be best if I start from the beginning.”
Taryn opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Before his eyes the white dragon’s form had begun to shift. Wings were drawn into the body, long legs and neck followed. Shrinking fast, the dragon became smaller and smaller, and within seconds changed into a very, very old man dressed in a thin robe.
Then it clicked in Taryn’s mind. “You’re a Joreia!”
The ancient man coughed, and laughed. “Truly one, as the druids call it, yes.”
“But I thought dragons were sentient and didn’t bond with druids,” Taryn said, too surprised to voice any of the questions he’d come to ask.
The old man laughed again, and then shuffled forward, wincing, “You are the seventh to ever know, my boy—the first being the Oracle of my time. She was a smart one she was, and the only woman I ever loved.”
“But—”
The man raised a hand to forestall any more questions. “Help me get to my house? It’s always hard to change into a human from the strength of a dragon, especially when a human feels the cold! Oh, and bring your cat in as well. I am sure she would like to feel some warmth.”
Taryn set aside his questions and bounded forward to place his cloak around the tiny man’s shoulders. Biting his lip against the torrent of thoughts threatening to come out, he waited until they were inside the house and he’d started a blazing fire in the hearth. Finding some blankets nearby, he placed them on a rack near the fire to warm.
“Put some tea on, would you?” the old man asked. “You should find it in the kitchen next to the pile of ice blocks for water.”
Taryn obediently fetched a pot and placed the ice inside it. Then he hung the container over the fire. Returning a moment later he added the tea leaves and settled into a chair.
The man seemed content to wait for the tea and had leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed. Sighing at the delay, Taryn took the opportunity to study the man.
Bald except for a ring of stray white hair, he more than made up for it with the snowy beard. His skin appeared wrinkled from head to toe, and was white almost to the point of being translucent. He also spoke with an odd accent, like the language of common was not his native tongue.
When the tea was ready, Taryn filled a mug for the man and placed the warm blankets onto the man's lap. Nodding at Taryn in gratitude, he settled deeper into his cushioned chair with a sigh. Then he took a sip of his tea and smiled. “That’s excellent my friend, thank you.”
Fixing Taryn with eyes of bright blue that gave no hint to his age, he said, “Let me tell my tale, and then if you have any more questions, you may feel free to ask."
Taryn nodded, and did his best to contain his curiosity. After another sip of tea the man began.
“My name is Rake, and I was born just over ten thousand years ago in what was then the only human kingdom. I was raised near the elven forests of Orláknia and quickly found that I could communicate with animals. As was the custom, I was sent to live with the dr
uids. Although the druid people only had a few villages then, they knew how to teach me until I was ready to summon my Joré.” His eyes lit up as he talked about the days preceding his joining.
“When I entered the forest to summon my Joré, many speculated about which animal I would join with, for I possessed a rare gift to speak to any animal, large or small. You cannot imagine my surprise when a young white dragon answered my call. Isray, he said his name was, and he was nearly as young as I was.
“After our joining, I knew that I could never return to my village or my home in the human kingdom. Dragons were greatly feared, even among the druids, and my joining would have been perceived as an abomination.
“Instead we traveled north, and Isray flew me over the dwarven mountains. We never stopped moving, for the few times we found a place to call home, someone showed up to slay the dragon and take its treasure. Young as Isray was, he was small, barely topping thirty feet, and was vulnerable.
“One such time, a group of rock trolls, led by a bloodthirsty clan leader found us. They were more than a match for us, and it appeared that I would lose my Joré. I told him to flee, but he would not. During the desperate battle, a group of them managed to tackle him to the floor, and tried to remove his head with an axe.
“In that moment, I wished with all my heart that I could be the one killed, and not my friend, and in that instant we became one. We did not learn this until much later, but a joining between a sentient being and a druid releases an extremely powerful burst of magic. In our case, this froze everything within a thousand yards.
“From then on we became Israke, a Joreia.” The man paused to take a sip of his tea and Taryn realized he’d been lost in the story. Standing, he refilled the old man’s mug and allowed him to continue, smiling as the ancient druid absently stroked the neck of the tigron at his side.
“After that I flew wherever I wanted, changing to human form at will, and for a while we lived the good life.” He paused, sighing, and for the first time appeared serious. “One day I was relaxing in a tavern somewhere in the south, when a beautiful young elf entered the room. Now, I wasn’t that far from the elven forests, so that was not uncommon, but this elf walked right up and took the seat at my side. She peered at me and asked, ‘How is life as a white dragon?’”
Rake laughed at the memory. “I nearly fell out of my chair, and without answering I ran from the tavern. She followed me and then told me she was the Oracle, and that she needed my help. She was always so . . . intense, and I couldn’t resist her passion. For the next few months I helped her search for the one that would stop the invasion of Draeken, Lakonus.”
“What happened to him after he fought Draeken?” Taryn interrupted, and Rake looked at him in disapproval.
“I’ll get there,” he said, drinking more tea before continuing. “Lakonus was a good man, part elf, and as far as we knew, part dwarf. By the time we found him, the war had begun, and that vile army had already crossed most of the south. I flew the Oracle and Lakonus to Xshaltheria to confront Draeken. I fought two reds in the sky while the Oracle defended the ground. Because my mind was not entirely dragon, I was smart enough to defeat both of the red dragons, but caught this as a souvenir.”
Rake raised his cloak to reveal a burn scar that ran from under his arm, down his whole side. “Believe me it looked worse in dragon form.” He chuckled to himself, his eyes sparkling. “From the sky I looked down and saw the last few moments of Lakonus’s battle.”
Taryn leaned forward, hanging on every word as the story reached the point he wanted to hear.
“In a perfect circle of stone surrounded by the lava of the volcano, Lakonus fought . . . himself. It was a flawless replica, but fought like a mirror. Every move he made, the other duplicated. I couldn’t even tell which was which. Needless to say I dived down to see if I could help, but the hole above the cavern was protected by magic I could not penetrate, no doubt placed there to keep Draeken in.”
“What happened?” Taryn asked, unable to contain himself.
Rake didn't seem to the notice the interruption, his eyes looking into the past as he finished his story. “Draeken was chained to the wall, and kept telling Lakonus that the only way to kill him was to slay the mirror—but the mirror would take his life return. He claimed victory would be his if he was willing to pay the price. Lakonus knew people were dying, but he tried everything to beat the image. It was all in vain. If he tried to cut the illusion, the illusion cut him, if he blocked the strike, the mirror blocked his strike. Finally he resigned himself to his fate . . . and slew the copy.”
“He gave his life?” Taryn asked, stunned.
“The supreme sacrifice,” Rake said, his head dipping.
For a moment they sat in silence, and Taryn’s thoughts invariably tackled how to defeat a mirror of himself.
“May I finish?” Rake asked, breaking into his thoughts, and Taryn nodded, curious what else the druid could tell him.
“After the mirror died, Draeken screamed and faded from view, although the chains were still there. At that moment, the portal on the outside of the fortress closed in a violent blast of energy, and every fiend in Lumineia vanished. The war, as we thought, had been won. I found the Oracle bloodied and close to death. She had killed thousands of fiends to give Lakonus time. When we returned to the elves we found the world in chaos. There were so many dead or missing, especially of the ruling class of the human kingdom, that few knew what to do. In the end the humans divided, and the elves migrated to the western forests.”
“And built Azertorn?”
Rake nodded, “Because Lakonus was raised as an elf, the entire dwarven nation built the city of Azertorn to honor his sacrifice, or at least that is how history tells it. Only the king of the dwarves and the queen of the elves knew the truth about Lakonus.” He fingered his beard, his eyebrows knitting together. “Shortly after the end of the war, we discovered that the mother of Lakonus had a cousin, a cousin that had also raised a great hero. The cousin was part dwarf . . . and Lakonus was not. Lakonus's mother had lied to him, because she wanted him to have the honor. In the end, both of the heroes lost their lives, one by sacrifice, the other by the hand of Draeken's assassin.”
Taryn leaned back in his chair, stunned. So much had happened so long ago, and no one knew about it except the old man in front of him. A thought crossed his mind and he asked, “What happened to the Oracle?”
Rake sighed, “For a while she traveled with me, but when the queen passed on, her successor mandated that the Oracle never leave her own home. As a final show of defiance the Oracle said her home was Orláknia, and so that is where she remained. Soon the vicious war faded from memory into legend, and many began to pass it off as myth. Since the queen of the elves never told anyone about the truth of Lakonus, even the long lived elves and dwarves began to forget. I have collected and studied everything I could to learn more, as the Oracle instructed me to. She knew you would come and would need my guidance to know what to do.”
“So she knew that Draeken would return?” Taryn asked.
“Not at first, but soon after Azertorn was built she began to sense his life force, weak, but gaining strength. Then she realized that he had only been imprisoned once more, trapped for another ten thousand years. It took her many years before she understood, before she felt the magic that far ahead in time. That is when she summoned me and told me when I must be here to receive you.”
“But how have you lived this long?” Taryn asked.
“Dragons live several thousand years because of their sleeping patterns, but becoming a Joreia extends your life.” He gave a low chuckle that turned into a cough. Draining his tea he smiled. “I do believe I am nearing the end of my time in Lumineia, and will soon pass on.”
“Why don’t you come and fight with us then?” Taryn suggested earnestly.
Rake gave a deep belly laugh, and a twinkle sparked in his eye that made him seem younger. “No my friend, I will leave that to the young. I fear I
am past the point of flight now. However, I will show you and your feline companion a way to the bottom of the cliff. That climb is treacherous enough to deter most of the foolhardy. I was told you would make it, but I am still impressed that you did it during a whiteout.”
“Have there been others?” Taryn asked.
Israke smirked. “A great many, in fact, always losing a few in the ascent. Some had honorable intentions, and those I spared. The others added to my fine collection of weaponry.”
A pallor had spread across the old man's' features, and Taryn felt like he should give the ancient one some peace. "Do you mind if I look at your collection?" he asked.
"Of course. I will ready myself to guide you down."
Thanking him, Taryn stood and left the cottage, moving towards the weapon racks. With his keen eyes he saw many fine weapons, and drew several to test their balance. Many appeared to be of exceptional quality, and a few were even enchanted with powerful magics.
“Ready to go?” Rake asked and he turned to see the old man dressed in warmer clothes. The druid smiled, seeing Taryn with one of the weapons in his hand. “After I am gone, you may return any time you like, and may consider anything in here yours. If you do return, come and read from the library—or better yet—return some of them to the elven archives so they can benefit the world."
Taryn promised that he would and followed the old druid into the corridor that led to the cliff, with Tigraes padding behind them. Taryn allowed the comfortable silence to stretch between them, turning his thoughts inward to all that he had learned. As they approached the opening he began to feel the icy wind on his cheeks. Turning the last corner, Taryn saw the gaping hole that allowed the storm to blow snow onto the floor of the great tunnel.
Turning to the druid, Taryn asked, "Can the mirror be defeated?" He didn't finish the thought, without sacrificing oneself.
Rake's bushy eyebrows knit together. "I have spent my life puzzling over what Lakonus could have done differently, but I regret to say I have not discovered the answer. Perhaps it is your destiny to triumph where he could not."