The Kri’yans smiled. “Actually, that was Shardwyn’s doing. He advised us to have a spare tunic ready for this evening.”
“He knew I was going to do that? That’s cool! I can’t wait to meet the guy!”
In high spirits, Steve wandered back to the map on Kri’Entu’s desk. Studying the parchment closely, he tried to memorize all the features, hoping to impress Sarah at a later date.
“Allow me to show ye the lay of the land lest ye are not familiar with it.” Entu gestured to the country above his own. “The kingdom of Ylani lies directly to our north. So are the Bohanis. Those mountains are home to our allies, the dwarves. They are also home to the dragons.”
He pointed to the icon of a castle bordering a tremendous body of water.
“Now, this is where we are, if ye were wondering. This,” he pointed to the mountain range bordering the northern boundaries of the kingdom, “are obviously the Bohanis. The dwarves have strongholds here, here, here, and here,” indicating various points along the mountain range. “Those are just the ones that we know about. There are two dwarven cities, and I have been to each, but I could not begin to tell you where they are in relation to this map as both are subterranean. I do not know which is Maelnar’s home. Now here,” he pointed to a lake at the very top of the map, “this is Lake Raehón. The majority of the dragon lairs can be found near this lake, but there are many that are scattered throughout the mountains as well.”
Steve pointed to a small dot southwest of the lake.
“Is this a village? How do those people survive with dragons all around? I was told that they are very dangerous and aren’t to be messed with.”
“There is a truce in effect with the villagers. I have spoken with the dragons in the area, and they have agreed to not prey upon the livestock they might find there provided the villagers stop harassing them.”
Steve couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. “How can someone possibly harass a dragon? Couldn’t the dragon, you know, eat the villager?”
The king nodded solemnly. “Aye, that they could. And they have. But get enough villagers together and they could drive off the prey the dragon feeds on. They have been trying to drive the dragons out of their territory, but the dragons are fiercely territorial. It has taken many months of negotiations, but I finally have managed to stop the villagers from bickering. Also, I am presently in negotiations with the lord of the dragons, hoping to forge an alliance with them.”
“If he’s successful,” Ny’Callé added, “it’ll be the first time in our history when both men and dragons co-existed peacefully.”
“Do dragons actually talk?” Steve asked incredulously.
“Some do, aye. The problem is that the dragon’s instinct is to chomp first, see if anyone is still alive, then maybe ask a question or two. They have a deep seated mistrust in all humans.”
“So your jhorun allows you to talk to a dragon and not get eaten?” Steve asked. “Did you find one that was willing to listen? I bet they aren’t a very patient species.”
Kri’Entu smiled. Steve’s enthusiasm was contagious. Here was someone he could converse with about his favorite subject: dragons. He would have to see about arranging a meeting with Kahvel, liaison to the dragon lord.
Kahvel was a full-grown golden dragon roughly thirty meters in length from nose to tail, with a wingspan of more than twenty meters. Due to his size, whenever Kahvel visited, he had to remain in the northern orchard for the duration of his stay. Kri’Entu had commissioned an underground cavern to be constructed solely for dragon use, a move unprecedented in R’Tal’s history. Never once has any human monarch ever made an effort to accommodate any dragon. It was a move that the king hoped would foster good will for future relations.
Kri’Entu thought for a moment. Kahvel has been absent for days now. He’s due for a visit soon. Steve, in the meantime, hadn’t stopped asking questions about dragons. Focusing his attention back on the conversation, he listened to the next set of questions.
“Have there been any wars between dragons and men? What about riders? Has anyone ever ridden a dragon?”
The king laughed. “There have been several throughout the course of our history. None were very pleasant, I can assure ye. As for riders, there may have been,” to which Steve perked up, “but nothing is known for certain, as no one has ever returned to tell the tale. I only heard of one villager from Capily who said he was going to be the first to tame and ride a dragon. I am told he was successful in getting onto the dragon’s back, however, the dragon noticed half a moment later.”
“Ummm, dare I ask what happened next?”
“Let’s just say that dragons have very supple necks.”
Steve winced. There was a fate he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
One of the side doors opened and Tristan entered the room, followed closely by a young boy. He had a slim build, dark black hair, and impossibly vivid blue eyes. The boy went over to his parents and gazed at the two strangers intently.
“Who are they?”
“Mikal, this is –”
“They are the Nohrin, are they not?”
Both the king and queen jerked visibly in their chairs. What was this? How much did their son know? Thus far, the king had believed that they had kept heir son blissfully ignorant of the Bakkian, and more importantly, of the danger he was in. How much had he picked up?
Looking at the bright-eyed boy sizing him up, Steve walked over and extended his arm.
“Steve. Steve Miller. Pleased to meet you. This is my wife, Sarah.”
Sarah walked up and also greeted their new charge. “Hello, Mikal. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet the two of ye, too,” Mikal answered automatically, having had his manners drilled into him relentlessly from parents and tutors alike.
“Son, where did you hear about the Nohrin?” the king wanted to know. “I know this is one subject we have not discussed at all.”
The boy looked to the ground and shuffled his feet. “I am not stupid, dad.” His bright blue eyes looked up at his parents. “It’s all my friends talk about. ‘When are you going to get your new babysitters’, or ‘have they found you a nanny yet?’ It is very embarrassing.”
“Which friends spoke of the Nohrin? Be specific.”
“Entu!” Callé scolded, “do not ask our son to tattle on his friends!” Sighing, she pulled her son over to her. “Listen carefully, Mikal. Ye are in grave danger. There are bad people out there that want to take ye from us and probably kill ye.”
With a horrified look on his face, Mikal whipped his head around to stare at the two strangers standing before him.
“No, not them,” the queen hastily corrected, “they are here to protect. We wanted ye to meet them in person so ye can see for yourself that there is nothing to fear from them.”
Taking a deep breath to try and calm his pounding heart, Mikal looked at the two foreigners suspiciously. If these were the people everyone was talking about, then he figured they should have some powerful jhorun, right?
Mikal walked over to woman with the friendly eyes. “So what jhorun do ye have?”
Sarah squatted down to his eye-level. “Tell you what, I can show you, if you’d like.”
The young boy nodded his head enthusiastically. He enjoyed seeing other people’s abilities since his wasn’t able to manifest itself physically.
Standing up, Sarah looked around the room for a suitable object. Not finding many small knick-knacks, she looked at the queen. She had several rings on her fingers. Maybe one of those.
“Pardon me,” she motioned to the queen, “could I borrow one of your rings?”
Having an idea of what Sarah was about to do, Callé smiled, slipping off one of her small silver rings. She handed it to Sarah, who in turn, handed it to the prince.
“Here, put this in your pocket, okay?”
Puzzled, Mikal took the ring and looked at his mother. The queen nodded her head, encouraging her son to do as he was bid. T
ucking the ring into his inside jacket pocket, he looked at Sarah again.
“So what are ye going to do?”
Sarah held out her hand. Something was glinting in it. Baffled, Mikal leaned forward to see what was there. Whatever it was, it was small and shiny. Equally curious, the king discreetly leaned forward for a better view. Once the boy saw the silver ring back in Sarah’s hand his eyes flew open and he instinctively felt his inside pocket. It was gone! But she hadn’t moved! How did she get the ring back?
Sarah grinned. “Care to try again to see if you can hold on to the ring?”
Determination had him snatching the ring out of her outstretched palm and returning it back into his pocket. Still feeling the circular bit of metal through his jacket, he backed well away from the smiling woman. When he had retreated far enough away to assure himself that there wasn’t any possible way for her to get it back when he was somehow not looking, he finally dropped both hands to his sides. What was this? She was smiling again. She’s holding out her hand! The ring! It was back in her hand! How was this possible? Again his hands flew to his inside pocket. Once more the ring was gone!
“How are ye doing that?” Mikal inquired, still feeling his empty pocket. That was so cool!
“Do you have anything else in your pockets? Anything at all?”
Mikal started patting himself down, looking for anything else he might have. Wait, there was something in his other inside pocket. He started to withdraw a crude slingshot when he remembered that his father had confiscated it several days ago. One disturbing little kitchen incident where a stone had ‘accidentally’ been discharged at a suit of armor, knocking it off its perch and onto a fully laden table, had marked his favorite weapon as illegal. It wasn’t his fault that Rhenyon and his men just happened to be sitting in the line of fire. How was he supposed to know that custard would cause armor to rust so quickly?
The king’s interest had been piqued. What did his son have that he didn’t want them to know about? He glanced at his wife. Find out.
“What do ye have there, Mikal?”
Trying to fight the urge to tell his mother what he didn’t want her to know, he felt his pocket. It was empty! What the-? His nervous eyes flicked to the strange woman’s. She winked at him. Relief flooded into him like cool rain washing over someone dying of thirst.
“Nothing mom, really.”
Callé looked at Sarah, who had her back to her. Sarah was still facing her son, with both arms clasped behind her back. Clutched in both of her hands was his prized slingshot. The queen stifled the laugh that wanted so desperately to escape from her mouth. She looked over at her husband. He, too, had also noticed the slingshot. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t want to betray her to their son. He allowed himself to be ‘duped’ in his son’s eyes. Just this once, anyway. If it helped their son bond with his new guardians, then so be it.
Liking this strange woman more than he cared to admit, and wanting to focus everyone’s attention on something besides himself, the young prince turned to the other Nohrin. “What is yer jhorun? Can ye do something as cool as that?”
“Mikal!” the queen exclaimed. “Manners!”
Resigned to seeing an example of some boring and mundane jhorun, he gasped aloud as the burning torch on the far wall went out with a poof, the flames flying into Steve’s outstretched right hand. He was a fire thrower! If only he could have such a power!
Without thinking about what he was doing, Mikal moved over to view the pyrotechnical presentation a bit closer. Mesmerized by the dancing flames intertwined through Steve’s fingers, he reached up to touch it for himself. As always, Steve, grinning at his wife for his brilliant display of his abilities, wasn’t paying attention.
Several things all happened at once: Sarah let out a yell; the king leapt to his feet to try and intercept his son; the queen cried out a warning; and finally, Steve’s head whipped around in time to see and feel Mikal grab his flaming hand. He instantly extinguished the flames and grabbed the boy’s hand, inspecting for damage.
“Sorry, kid! Really! Are you okay? I wasn’t paying attention.”
The queen made it to her son first. “Mikal, let me see yer hand.”
“Mom, what is the big deal? I am fine!” Mikal pulled his hand away from his worried mother.
The king arrived at his wife’s side. “Ye are uninjured? Give me yer hand.”
“Dad, I am fine, really.”
The king fixed him with a stare. “Yer hand. Now.”
Sighing inwardly, the prince presented his hand for his father’s inspection. The king snatched it and forcibly pulled him forward, twisting his hand this way and that.
“Ow, dad, that hurts!”
The queen gently pulled her son’s arm out of Entu’s grasp and inspected it herself. His skin was warm to the touch, but no burns anywhere. She herself had felt the heat emanating from Steve. How could he not be burned? She eyed the nervous Nohrin fidgeting from foot to foot.
“Ye neglected to mention that ye would not harm those that came into physical contact with ye. Mikal should be burned, and burned seriously. I felt the heat coming from yer skin.” She turned back to her son. “Did ye not feel anything?”
“Well, his hand was a little warm, but mom, it was on fire, ye know.”
The king frowned. “Do ye typically grab a hold of something that’s on fire?”
Mikal stared at his father. He looked at his mother. She, too, was frowning at him. Were his parents really this slow?
“Mom, dad, please. If he is truly one of my ‘protectors’,” the prince rolled his eyes as he said this, “then it would not make much sense if he could defend me with his jhorun, but then burn me alive in the process, would it?”
Both the king and queen, along with the newly appointed Nohrin, stared at the boy in shock.
Sarah turned to her husband. “Did you know you wouldn’t burn him?”
Steve shook his head. “I didn’t even see him. I had no idea. I thought he was burned.”
The king stepped forward. “Test this. I need to know if this is true or not.”
Steve stepped backwards a few paces, just to be safe. His right hand ignited once again. He watched the red flames dancing along his fingers, but he also noted that Sarah was wincing. In fact, all had taken a step or two back from him. Too hot? Looking at his hand, he ordered his jhorun to decrease the temperature. The flames, still dancing through his fingers, switched from red to blue. He looked to Sarah to judge the temp. She nodded. Good. He turned to the king and held out his hand.
Cautiously, the king reached out to poke a finger at Steve’s burning hand. It was warm, as if from strenuous exercise, but nothing he couldn’t tolerate. He made a motion to grasp the hand. “May I?”
“Be my guest.” Steve took the king’s hand in his.
The king watched as the flickering blue flames completely enveloped his hand. “Minor heat,” the king reported. “There is no discomfort at all.”
A sudden thought occurred to the queen. “Steve, can ye increase the heat some? Just a little,” she added hastily, as the king stared at her with shocked eyes.
“Let me know the instant it becomes too warm, okay?”
The king nodded.
Slowly, Steve increased the intensity of his flames. Watching the king’s eyes for discomfort, he was directed to keep proceeding. Steve increased the temperature of his blazing hand a few more notches. Still, the king was unaffected. The flames were back to being red.
By this time, the other three occupants of the room had backed well away from the both of them. Beads of sweat were starting to form on Sarah’s brow.
“Okay, hon,” Sarah called out, “I think that’s enough.”
Steve extinguished his hand and automatically pulled the king’s hand up to his eyes, rotating it around to ascertain for himself that his new sleeping arrangements would not be in the dungeon. Fortunately, he couldn’t see any damage. Suddenly aware of the fact that he was holding a man’s hand, a
nd the hand of the reigning king at that, he released it as though he had just discovered he had been holding on to a scorpion.
Smiling, the king checked his hand for himself. No pain, no discomfort, no marks. Excellent!
“I didn’t know I could do that,” Steve confessed. “I never really tried.”
The queen walked over to one of the many bookcases in the Antechamber, selected a book, and brought it to Steve.
“Would ye repeat the experiment, but this time, hold this.” She handed him the book.
“Ummm, okay, this is a book. It’ll burn in a flash.”
Sarah shook her head. “That’s the point of the test, dear. Let’s see if you can ignite your hand and not the book.”
Mikal snorted and tried to disguise it as a cough.
“Oh. Duh.” He grinned sheepishly at his wife. “Right. Here we go.”
Passing the book over to his left hand, he ignited his right. Willing his jhorun to lower the heat as much as possible, his right hand took the book from his left. The tome was swallowed by the flickering flames.
“I think it’s burning,” Steve observed.
“How can you tell?” Sarah asked.
“If it was burning,” Mikal pointed out, “the book would be turning black, right?” Making what he hoped was an impressive display of courage, he walked over to the fire thrower and took the book from him.
The thick volume was sitting unscathed in the boy’s hands. He looked at his parents, whose mouths were open in shock. He shrugged. “Well, now we know, right?” He handed the book back to Steve, who took it with his burning hand without even thinking.
Amazed, Steve looked at the book, and even opened it. The dancing flames made it rather difficult to read, but it was possible. The book contained what looked like descriptions of tariffs and taxes, and how they should be applied to the different citizens of the kingdom. He snorted. No wonder the queen selected this one. Probably doesn’t care if it gets burned.
Catching Steve’s eye, the queen winked at him.
Sarah turned to the king. “Can you give him something he can burn? I want to see if he can only burn things he’s not holding.”
Bakkian Chronicles, Book I - The Prophecy Page 20