The Green Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 3)

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The Green Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 3) Page 4

by Salvador Mercer


  “We have to do something,” Helvie said, half commanding, half stating the obvious.

  Lucina nodded, looking to the locals. “You will search the nearby forest with us?”

  “Aye,” Clive said, going to the horse that he had just tied up and releasing it, preparing to mount.

  “I don’t feel good about this, but I’m glad you and your troops came riding in today,” Fergus said, nodding at the noblewoman.

  “We should prepare a defense, just in case,” Lucina said, and Godfrey barked orders for his men to remount.

  They decided that half would stay at the homestead with the mayor’s son, Fauke, just in case any of the Hamills returned, and the rest would ride into the forest a ways and search for survivors.

  They didn’t have far to go before they found the remains of one of the cows. It was only a leg, but it was a sign indicating they shouldn’t expect to find anything living. Spirits were low, and finally one of the soldiers cried out, pointing his lance at the ground in front of him.

  “What is it?” Godfrey asked, and the rest of the party rallied to his location.

  “I think we found one of the Hamills,” Clive said, dismounting and inspecting the head that the soldier found.

  “Don’t, my lady,” Lucina said, trying to restrain her ward from seeing the gruesome clue. “It is time to go; I sense evil nearby.”

  Helvie didn’t inspect the skull, instead turning to address everyone. “This is no longer a hunt. From now on, we investigate murder.”

  Chapter 3

  Awakenings

  “You spend a lot of time up here,” Greyson said, walking up to his Initiate and taking in the dramatic view of the Greenfeld from the edge of the small cliff outcropping alongside the mountain, high above.

  Elister turned to watch his mentor approach, joining him in the cool, brisk air of an early dawn. The sun had just risen and cast its warming, golden rays upon the land. The forest mists were evaporating into the warming air in wisps of milky white vapor trails that danced upon the treetop canopy.

  “Good morning,” Elister said, giving the older man a nod in respect. “You’ve woken early as usual.”

  Greyson returned the nod, stopping to lean on his staff and take in the morning air. “Not as early as you, Elly. You seem to have a knack for catching beautiful sunrises when most of our Initiates are still sleeping in warm beds.”

  “Well, there’s not really many Initiates left anymore,” Elister said, thinking back to when he had started his training and there were at least a dozen young pupils, eager and impressionable. Now, they were down to just three. “I suppose I miss my family still.”

  The old druid nodded. “You miss what might have been, Elly. You miss the love and warmth that you felt so long ago.”

  “Has it been that long?” Elister asked, wondering why the old man continued to call him by his diminutive when he was a fully grown man. Indeed, Elister looked much like his mentor, perhaps not quite so old, but he had lived for many decades, and his childhood was oftentimes no more than a bad memory at best, a forgettable nightmare at worst.

  “Longer than you know,” Greyson said, gracing his pupil with a knowing eye.

  “The endless lesson . . . that is all I know,” Elister said, returning his gaze to the forest below, referencing his studies in his master’s domain.

  Greyson chuckled, but Elister did not look at him. “You protest too much. Besides, your time of studies is over.”

  That did get a look from Elister, who knew nothing but the repetitious studies of the Druidic Order, the ceaseless ceremonies, and the long times of slumber. “You jest?”

  “No,” Greyson said, taking a moment to sigh and choose his words carefully. “The time has come to end your initiation. Agon stirs, as does the Father and their many creatures and children. You feel you are ready?”

  Elister thought he would never hear those words. He had given up hope decades ago when they first began. “I am ready, Arnen Greyson,” Elister said, using the formal title for his teacher.

  “No need for that after all these decades,” Greyson said, turning to smile at his student. “You lost your manners after your adulting, though you hardly remember.”

  “Well, that was long ago.”

  “Long for some, not so long for others.” Greyson nodded.

  “There you go again, speaking in riddles,” Elister said, returning the smile and exchanging his own staff from his right hand to his left so as to better speak with his teacher.

  “They are not riddles, Elly. You will find that the answers you sought were always in front of you. You simply could not, or would not, see them,” Greyson said.

  “I say they are riddles,” Elister said, his voice exuding confidence and exasperation all at once.

  “Time to correct your assumptions. Are you ready to wake the Zashitors?” Greyson said, a twinkle in his eye, knowing what to expect.

  “What Zashitors?” Elister was confused now.

  “Don’t play games with me, Elly. It’s too early in the morning.” Greyson turned and started walking back to the stone door in the side of the mountain cliff. When he reached it, he turned to face his pupil, knowing instinctively that the man would still be standing there dumbfounded. “Well, come on. Don’t just stand there all day, time to wake the Rangers.”

  Greyson turned, leaving Elister to ponder his words and then in sudden realization, run after him, chasing him with more than a few questions. The Zashitors, or Rangers as they were known in the common tongue, hadn’t been seen at their Abbey in quite some time. Decades, at least. Surely they would have grown old and been dead by now, wouldn’t they?

  “Wait, Greyson,” Elister called out to the old druid as he navigated the rock corridor with surprising speed for someone his age. “Where are we going?”

  The old man never looked back, speaking and walking quickly at the same time. “To retrieve your companions first, and then to the Chamber of Slumber.”

  The pair found themselves at a junction in the deep rock mountainside and almost bumped into Elister’s companions, Tristan and Elizabeth.

  “Good morning,” they both said in unison, pleased to have found their companion and teacher so easily this day. Most days, they had to wait for them to return to begin their studies.

  Greyson nodded before addressing and surprising them, as well with his words. “Good morning, Trist and Beth. Your time of studies is over. Let’s go.”

  Off again walked the old druid, with Elister in tow and two stunned former students trying to make sense of their teacher’s words.

  “Elister, what did you say to him?” Beth asked, tugging at Elister’s robe.

  “I didn’t say anything,” Elister began, hurrying to keep up as they twisted and turned down the well-worn corridors of their mountain home. “He said the same thing to me not more than five minutes ago.”

  “Impossible,” Tristan said, bringing up the rear. “I can’t believe our studies would just end like that after all these years.”

  The three former students bumped into each other as Elister found himself running into Greyson when the old man stopped suddenly, turning to face the trio. “Who said your studies are over?”

  The three looked at the old man and then at each other. “Why, you did, just now,” Beth said first.

  “Hmm.” Greyson looked down for a minute, rubbing his bearded chin with his free hand and then just as quickly returning their look. “Yes, I did say that, but I meant that your time of studies here is over. Now you must get your hands dirty, so to speak. No more clean books and warm linen for you.”

  The man started off again at a quick pace, followed by his students, who tried a few more questions but got nowhere with their teacher, who was evidently focused on reaching the Chamber of Slumber. After several minutes of walking, the group came upon a high domed ceiling that they recognized immediately. To their left was a door that opened upon their mountain meadow sanctuary filled with trees, shrubs, and plants growi
ng in a large basin-shaped hollow of the mountain range itself.

  The right had a door with an ornate archway, marked with ruins and elaborately decorated drawings and other ancient hieroglyphs depicting various figures of history and legend all in the prose of sleep. Greyson stopped in front of the door and turned to face the trio.

  “The Chamber of Slumber,” Tristan said, reverence in his voice.

  “Pretty simple name, if you ask me,” Beth said, gazing at the carved details above the doorway. “I thought it should have a more . . . regal name.”

  “It did, but you don’t remember,” Greyson said, giving the woman a look that said she ought to have known better.

  If so, Beth wasn’t remembering. “What are you saying?”

  “You studied it not long after your time of adulting,” Greyson lectured her, indeed all three of them who had forgotten their history.

  “When was that? I don’t remember anything other than the Chamber of Slumber,” Beth countered.

  “That’s because you three irreverent scoundrels decided to call it by its common name, forgetting your history.” Greyson’s words sounded harsh, but he was now smiling and bobbing his head up and down good-naturedly.

  “Scoundrels,” Tristan said, half-heartedly protesting.

  “Come now, Greyson, when did we study this?” Elister asked, understanding that this was serious.

  “Oh, around eighty years or so ago, though you have all evidently forgotten. This makes me wonder if we need another decade or two of classes,” Greyson said.

  The three groaned in despair at the thought of more classes. That was all they had done and known their entire lives. Elister spoke for the group when he responded, “I think we can do without the additional time, Arnen Greyson. Perhaps a simple reminder will suffice this morning?”

  Greyson smiled, enjoying the charm and banter between them. He would miss it too soon. He always did. “Very well, you should have remembered the Heart of Enchanted Rest. Does that ring a bell?”

  The three nodded, not willing to admit that even if it didn’t, they would act as if it did. Anything to avoid their teacher changing his mind after such a simple yet important declaration.

  “Please, do continue,” Elister said.

  Greyson nodded, pulling a key from his pocket and then frowning and putting it back, looking somewhat sheepishly at them. “Sorry, forgot my own procedure after so many years.” Stepping back, he brought his staff up and touched the center of the double doors, which brought an immediate mechanical sound as the doors opened on some sort of rock gear driven by the power of his staff.

  “Wow,” Tristan said, sounding like a child despite his middle-aged appearance.

  “Time to wake the Zashitors. They have work to do.” Greyson entered and walked down a long flight of steps broad enough to accompany all four of them.

  The walls were lined with naturally occurring veins of white rock ore that glowed in the presence of the druid’s staff, illuminating the staircase and subsequent chamber beyond. Once down the flight of stairs, the group fanned out around nine large granite slabs of rock. The far three at the rear of the chamber were occupied. Three bodies lay under brown blankets, their heads covered with masks that hid the features of their faces and the color of their hair.

  Greyson walked to the edges of the room, touching stanchions that erupted in flames to illuminate the area better, despite the faint glow from the white rock that streaked the interior of the chamber’s walls. Nodding in approval, Greyson turned to address his students.

  “Three protectors for the three servants of the Mother.”

  “So we are to be promoted, then?” Tristan asked, pride mixed with disbelief in his voice.

  Greyson raised a brow and focused his attention on the man. “I wouldn’t use that exact word, but rather, you are now to be pressed into service, for the Mother has need of you.”

  “Why now?” Beth asked, being the most curious of the group.

  “Always to the point with you, Beth,” Greyson said, allowing his gaze to leave Tristan and focus on her. “War has come early. The signs portend something great with the coming of the great transit and the awakening of the great evil that occurs every time Father Death arrives.”

  “What war?” Beth beat Elister to the question, forcing her companion to shut his lower jaw and look from her back to their teacher.

  “The wizards of Kesh have done something to interrupt the natural flow of nature,” Greyson began, using the common term of nature instead of the attribute of the Mother. “We have less time, and so the Chief Druid has ordered us to mobilize and prepare to defend Agon.”

  “You mean the First Arnen has declared war as well on the Kesh?” Elister asked.

  “Something like that, Elly,” Greyson said, gracing him with a smile. “First, however, we need to find out what is happening here and whether or not the forces of evil have emerged from their long slumbers.”

  “Dragons,” the trio said in unison, bringing a dark memory to Elister.

  “Yes, and perhaps more,” Greyson said. “So, time is short. We must awake the protectors, and you must all be prepared to leave first thing tomorrow.”

  The trio nodded, and Greyson turned, raising his staff and uttering the Prayer of the Mother, followed by the Chant of the Defender. There was no bright light, no flash or display of brilliance. Smoke did not billow from the druid’s staff, nor did any mystical presence appear. What did happen was that the three covered figures stirred beneath their brown coverings, causing the former students to take a step back.

  “Agon help us,” Beth said, taking in a deep breath of air, as did her companions.

  “She is,” Greyson said, turning to smile at her. “That is why she gave us protectors.”

  Slowly the figures stirred and then sat up, causing the trio to step back even further, and this gave Greyson enough cause to look at them again and shake his head. First one, and then another of the men raised their hands, covered in dark leather gauntlets, and removed their helmets. Elister gasped.

  “Dunric,” Elister said, not believing his eyes. The Ranger looked much as he had last seen him over half a century earlier. Elister had spent most of his time under the Ranger’s attentive watch, till the once young boy became a man and entered training with the others. Elister had always thought that his protector had traveled far and lived his life and then died long ago. Seeing him here, alive and well, brought back a flood of memories.

  Dunric shook his head as if clearing it from a long sleep. His yawn and stretching of his massive arms did little to dispel that idea. He noticed Elister and smiled at him. “Good morning, Elly. It’s been a long time.”

  Elister took a moment to watch as Edric and then Wulfric took their masks off, pulling their blankets aside as well, stretching their limbs and even rubbing their eyes. “How is this possible?” Elister turned to face Greyson.

  “Mother help me,” Greyson said half-heartedly. “You’d think you’d remember half your lessons by now. All servants of the Mother sleep from time to time. You’ve done the same thing, though you have hardly noticed.”

  Wulfric’s voice brought a tinge of memory to Elister, the memory of fear. “The boy doesn’t understand, Greyson.”

  “Nonsense,” the old druid replied, looking back at the Rangers.

  “Wulfric’s correct,” Edric said, standing and stretching his legs. “They may have spent decades with you, Master Arnen, but they are still like children, unwise to the world and the perils within.”

  “Now wait just a minute,” Beth said, walking around her old teacher to stand in front of the three tall Rangers as she placed one hand on her hip and wagged a finger on the other at them. “Master Greyson says we are to become like him, one of the Arnen, so I hardly think calling us children is appropriate.”

  “My, but does she have a tongue,” Edric said.

  “Reminds me of her mother,” Wulfric responded, sending Beth a disapproving look.

  “What
would you know of my mother?” Beth asked, holding her poise, finger in the air mid-wag.

  “Gentlemen,” Dunric interrupted, “do you really want to have a conversation now about . . .” The elder Ranger allowed his sentence to end prematurely.

  The three Rangers looked at Beth, and then they started to shake their heads in unison.

  “Wise decision,” Greyson said, coming around to face Beth. “Elizabeth, now is not the time to bring up old wounds—”

  “Wounds?” Beth’s finger found its way to the old man. “I thought we were the Arnen now and they were to protect us.”

  Tristan and Elister shifted their weight from one foot to another, not at all feeling comfortable with their companions’ tone, though interested enough in what the answer would be.

  “You are all Initiates now, not Arnen . . . yet that is,” Greyson hedged, giving his young pupils an intent stare and wagging his staff back and forth from where it was clutched in his right hand.

  Wulfric bent down to put his boots on. “Too much like her mother.”

  “I thought we decided that question,” Dunric said, doing the same with his boots. “Come now, Greyson, is it time?”

  Greyson turned around to face the Rangers, who were gathering their belongings that had mostly been stored at the foot of their sleeping slabs. “You are early, but there is news.”

  The three Zashitors stopped and looked at the druid. Eldric asked first, “Has the beast stirred?”

  There was quiet for a moment, and Elister looked from his old protectors to his teacher and back again. He alone of the students knew what Eldric was referring to. Finally the old man spoke. “Yes, but there is more. The realms have moved against each other and war has begun.

  The Rangers had all taken baths while the druid and his three former students had prepared a large meal for the seven of them. When they had all sat down, Elister saw that the three warriors had donned their leather armor and had their weapons nearby, set on an empty table. The group was now in the basin of their complex, sitting in the outdoors where there was some sunshine to enjoy. The basin had high mountain walls, and the sun only graced its interior with sunlight for a few hours at midday and the time right before and right after it.

 

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