Dragons Unremembered

by David A Wimsett

  Dek turned to see dozens of sailing ships approaching. He signaled his soldiers again to be ready. The ships anchored. A single launch was lowered. Dek held their fire. The sailors were dark skinned as with the people to the south. A man stepped ashore. “I am Udalla, son of Tolay, king of Hura. We seek Baron Dek of Rascalla.”

  The baron stepped forward. “I am Dek.”

  Udalla placed the palm of his hand on his chest and bowed formally. “My father had a vision of a growing terror that will consume all and of your exploits to confront it. He instructed me to seek you. I bring 26 ships and 30,000 mounted troops armed with sword and spears for the battle against the Barasha.”

  Dek took Udalla’s hands in his. “Well met, friend of the south. Your help is most welcome. Praise the dragons.”

  Four days later, the rest of Ryckair’s army, now over thirty thousand strong, marched for the ruined city. Against his protests, Batu was appointed narech. He grumbled that he had no more temperament for being a soldier than he had when they escaped the Oola. Still, he took to handling the day to day running of the host with ease and efficiency. He commissioned colonels, captains and lieutenants and appointed sergeants to disseminate authority, carry out orders and settle squabbles.

  Ryckair thought constantly of Mirjel and the target poison, wondering if it had arrived, if he would get there first and if she was already dead. He forced the images to the back of his mind, knowing that the only way to save her was to reach Meth before the terec did.

  These worries he expected. What shocked him were his thoughts of Shara. Her betrayal had cut him deeply and, at the same time, filled him with a rage he had never known. After banishing her, he was certain the hurt and hatred would end.

  Yet, at times, her face came unbidden, along with the memory of a smile or laying in her arms. He remembered secrets shared and plans made that would never come to be. A deep sorrow settled on him for those things lost.

  They reached the ruined city. Batu moved his horse up to Ryckair’s side. “Highness, the men are afraid to enter. They call it the forbidden place and say the dragons will strike dead any who pass its gates.”

  Ryckair’s army filled the slope of the hill and spread down into the valley below. “Their fear comes from an ancient liturgy.”

  He looked to the city, then back to the men. “Of course. That’s what this place is. Now I understand why Jarat instructed me to come here.”

  “Highness?”

  “Gather the troops along the side of the hill.”

  The men were marched into position. Most of them looked warily at the city walls. Ryckair removed his tunic to stand bare chested in the new grass. “Hear me, Fadella, the wandering sorrow. Hear me exiled ones.”

  Whether by the force of his will or some magic of the dragon mark, each man heard the words clearly. “I have walked the streets of that city.” There were hushed whispers. Ryckair let them pass. “I come to you with the sign of Ilidel. The three trials are passed. We have defeated the Dharam. Yet, still, you doubt that the prophesy has come to pass. The wrath of Jorondel and all the dragons has ended. Ilidel’s promise is fulfilled. You have come home. No longer are you Fadella. Know, once more, your true name.” He spread his hands out to the ruined city. “Behold. Amblar. City of Avar. This is your home, your name. Say it now and know its power.”

  A few voices timidly said, “Amblar.” Then, more followed in stronger voices until a deafening cry of “Amblar” sang out. Men jumped and cried out. The din continued for a tespan. Ryckair said, “Now, Amblar, stand tall and come home, never to wander again.”

  The troops marched through the gates and down the wide streets. Some individuals showed a sense of trepidation. Most gawked in wonder. The city was ten times the size of Kackar. They marched on to the western wall where the ocean crashed against a sandy beach.

  Ryckair climbed up to the wizard tower along with Batu and Telasec. He stood on the threshold where a door should have been but where there was only stone.

  Batu said, “Perhaps the wizard awaits us somewhere else in the city.”

  “No. She is in here.”

  “Perhaps there’s another entrance.” said Telasec.

  Ryckair touched the stone. “This is the door, though you do not believe. I wouldn’t have either before I saw who the warrior of the mountain really was. Batu, you are in command until I return.”

  Without another word, Ryckair stood, pressed his hands against the stone of the tower and walked through.

  He stood in a room twenty paces across. It was barren of furnishings. Above him, just out of reach, was a ceiling with wooden beams. A soft glow illuminated the scene, even though there were no torches or lanterns.

  Near the door, which now appeared to be made of oak, was a stair that curved up to follow the shape of the tower. Ryckair climbed. He began counting steps. When he reached one thousand, he knew for certain that he had risen higher than the tower seemed to stand.

  He passed three windows that looked out on strange scenes. From one he saw a storm churned ocean with waves crashing at the base of the tower. Another opened onto a desert sand dune that ran nearly up to the window so that he could have stepped out and walked on it. An unfamiliar city lay in the far distance.

  He passed three doors that refused to open. Each was outlined in a different color, red, green and Oranege. He felt a sense of dread as he passed each.

  Around the next turn he came to a window and shielded his eyes as he stared out through the opening.

  There was no sight of land or even horizon, only bright blue sky and white, puffy clouds as the tower stretched both up and down beyond sight.

  It seemed a puzzle with no answer. He was about to leave the mystery of the window behind when a glint of silver caught his eye. It appeared for an instant behind the edge of a cloud, then vanished. He watched the spot carefully. Another flash of color came near the window. He turned his head and gasped. No more than ten arm lengths away loomed a silver scaled dragon.

  The carvings and paintings that Ryckair had seen were mere shadows of the truth. The long sinuous body had four clawed feet. The face was round, with a short snout. The massive body was held aloft by transparent wings no thicker than a butterfly’s. They glowed with rainbow veins reflecting light in a myriad of changing colors.

  The eyes were as bright as a child’s, yet deeper than the wisest Kyar. They held him, contemplated him, then beckoned for him to come outside and play as plain as if the dragon had spoken. Without hesitation Ryckair clamored to the window and pulled himself up on the sill.

  A trumpet sounded. Ryckair looked down and realized he was standing on the edge of a bottomless precipice. Slowly, he eased himself back into the tower.

  The dragon he had first seen turned, pulled its tail up underneath its belly and twisted its head. Below, two other silver shapes moved leisurely about a cloud. One opened its mouth and again the pure trumpet call resounded.

  The first dragon looked back to Ryckair. “Good-by,” said the eyes. The silver creature dropped and flew toward the clouds.

  The dragons outside the window reached the others below. Ryckair was amazed to see that it was only a quarter their size.

  He reached a wooden door at the top of the stairs that led to a round room. Across from the door was a hearth with a pleasant blaze. There was a woven rug and several chairs. Next to one of these stood a table stacked with books. The wall to the right was covered with shelves of books, scrolls, jars and boxes. To the left an archway led out to a balcony.

  He stepped through and saw a square tower standing only a few paces away and at an angle a second one just beyond that. An arched bridge connected the tower he stood on with the closest one only a few paces away. To his right was another bridge that led to an additional round tower. Bright stars shone overhead. This struck him as odd considering it was a span before brightnail when he had entered. He climbed a set of steps to a flat roof.

  Ryckair beheld an extraordinary view. He saw the whole
of the northern monarchy from the mountains of the Fadella to the banks of the Great River and clear to the dragon statue on the eastern border that Batu had described. He saw the sweep of the land and the smallest detail at once as a whole.

  Jarat’s voice came from behind, “You stand atop the hub that connects the seven wizard towers, each of which touches many worlds.” Jarat and Nissor stepped up beside the prince. “Here, atop the tower, they are only a few paces apart. Yet, from the ground below, they are separated by vast distances.” The wizard spread her hands wide. “Look south, prince of Carandir, and know your home.”

  Ryckair looked across the Great River and saw Meth. It seemed as if choking vapors hung over the palace. He saw the Barasha priests and the Sinkarekan guards. He saw Craya and Mirjel and knew the target poison had not reached her. He felt the starvation of his people, both of body and spirit.

  He cast his gaze all about, even west out to sea where a thick fog obscured all sight. “I don’t understand, Mistress Jarat. I have looked everywhere and I can’t find the key.”

  “Think of the warrior. He is both your salvation and your bane.”

  “But, there is no phantom to fight here.”

  “You are in constant battle, young prince. You battle your wit, your ignOranece, your hopes, your fears. Many things compete within you, but none of them are you.”

  Ryckair remembered how he had felt when he believed the warrior was real. He had trusted his weapons. They were proof he was in a fight. It would have be foolish to give them up. Yet, he had dropped the knife. It just seemed the right thing to do, an act of faith that cut through his fears and doubts. So many things he once believed to be real were wrong; the fear he was not a leader, his ignOranece towards Craya’s faults, concern over whether or not the birthmark was the sign on Baras, the false messages that Craya was king and Mirjel dead, Shara’s deceits and betrayal. Faith in himself had shown the truth. “I am Carandir.”

  He put his hand over the dragon birthmark. It glowed like the sun. When the light dimmed, the birthmark was gone. In its place was the dragon shaped key hanging from a silver chain secured it around his neck. Ryckair said, “It has been with me all the time. It is what saved my life in the fall.”

  “It was you who saved your life, Highness. You used the power of the key, without knowing it.”

  “But, how did it come to me?”

  “When Craya touched the key, it saw the evil intent in his heart and felt the threat of the Barasha. So, it came here where it knew it was safe from both. This was the sign I had waited for with both anticipation and dread. It meant the Barasha has survived and the time of the Parili had come when the Fadella would be free again to follow the heir into battle.

  “The problem I faced was getting the key to you without exposing you or letting it fall into the hands of the Barasha. So, I traveled back though time with it to the day of your birth. There, I disguised it as the dragon shaped birthmark to hide it from view and hung it around your neck.”

  Ryckair held the key aloft and perceived that all those assembled below now saw it as well. A great cheer rose from Amblar.

  Jarat said, “Look to the west, heir of Avar. The time of your rising has come.”

  Ryckair turned to the ocean. The fog cleared to reveal a fleet sailing into the harbor of Amblar.

  They descended to the base of the tower. He made their way to the sea with Batu and Telasec. One pier was still usable. One of Udalla’s sailing ships made dock. Baron Dek and Quib came ashore. They knelt before Ryckair and gazed upon the dragon key. Dek said, “Highness. Through concern and fear I never lost faith. Your terec message was the greatest joy I have known since Mirjel’s birth. My dear wife has traveled to Xinglan and formed an alliance with its people. King Tolay has sent a fleet from Hura. Their troops await us in Carandir. We are ready to transport you and your soldiers.”

  Ryckair said, “Never more welcome a vision is that of your fleet. I command an army of thirty thousand.”

  Dek looked to Jarat as Nissor tilted its head. The baron opened his mouth in a gape as he furrowed his brow. “I know you, both of you, but I don’t know how.”

  Ryckair said, “This is Jarat, last of the wizard, and her companion Nissor.”

  Jarat said, “Your faith in the dragons serves you well, Baron Dek of Rascalla. Through them we know each other.”

  Dek fell to their knees. “Then the legends are true. There is still hope.”

  Ryckair said, “There is more than hope, Baron Dek. There is a way.”

  Dek stood and pointed to the ships. “With the help of Baroness Quib’s fortune we purchased vessels that have been added to those that came unbidden.”

  “You gave your own treasury, Baroness Quib?”

  “Highness, Baron Dek convinced me of the wisdom of it.” They all laughed. Then a serious look came to Quib’s face. “In truth, I must confess that I had hoped to escape to the south. I have often thought of myself of a merchant and not nobility, Highness. Even when the Barasha rose, I thought of how to protect my holdings, and not Carandir. Standing here in the presence of Mistress Jarat and seeing the key, having known the sacrifice of Dek and those who follow him leaves me ashamed.”

  Ryckair said, “The truth you speak holds great power. The strength of the west, east, north and south, old and new, loyal and redeemed rises this day. To Meth and the final battle.”

  Ryckair’s army sailed for nine days. When they reached Dek’s encampment, Exor approached Jarat. He and all the Xinglan troops wore armor made from vertical strips of paper impregnated with a lightweight resin that dried as hard as iron. It came from the watmoo tree that grew only in Xinglan.

  Exor fell to one knee bowed to Jarat, “Oh mighty one, our forbearers told of your return for a final battle. We are ready to repay our debt for your protection. Long has your image been revered and long we have we held faith in the dragons. I, Exor, have brought with me troops trained in the art of the pole axe and trident. We commit our lives to defeat the Barasha and hold the evil one in sleep.”

  Jarat smiled and all felt the air grow lighter. “Rise, soldiers of Xinglan. I remember the gallant sacrifices of your ancestors and honor them as I now honor you and Baroness Jea for bringing you here.”

  She turned to Udalla and bowed. “The faith of Hura is well known to me. We are kin, you and I, and I have never forgotten my homeland.”

  Udalla fell to one knee. “Great one.”

  Ryckair gathered Dek, Jarat, Batu, Exor and Udalla on the shore. He sketched out his plan on the muddy bank with the tip of his sword. “Force of arms cannot defeat the sorcerers, nor can Mistress Jarat alone, is that not so?”

  Jarat nodded. “There is much I can do, and more could be done if the other wizards of Ilidel still walked the earth. But, I alone cannot defeat all the demons they will call.”

  “There is only one force that can, the magic of the crown.”

  Batu said, “We will have to defeat the Barasha to reach the crown, Highness.”

  Dek stroked his beard. “I think I know what his majesty has in mind. A distraction.”

  “Exactly. The troops will create a diversion with an attack on the palace from the high plain while I sail into the Bay of Hasp, enter the palace through a secret entrance at the base of the pinnacle known only to the Kyar and myself. From there, I will take the crown.

  “As for the army, be certain to make plenty of noise as you march. We want the Barasha to know you’re coming and focus on your attack. Once the crown is upon my head, the Barasha and all the demons they can call cannot stand before us.”

  The leaders dispersed to relay the plan to their troops. Jarat took Ryckair to the side. “Be warned, heir of Avar. The purpose to which you put the crown will control what it will do. Think always of Carandir’s good, never of personal desires. You are not its owner, only its steward.”

  As Dek made ready to march, Ryckair said, “Let’s take a walk into the woods.”

  The two men followed a trail that wo
und through the forest. Tall trees shaded them from the sun. Ryckair had forgotten just how warm the southern continent was. They came to a gentle stream.

  A feeling grew in Ryckair of coming home. After his wanderings he now saw his own land with fresh eyes. The serene beauty of the little stream, the sharp green leaves against a bright blue sky told him he belonged here and would stay.

  Ryckair stared into the forest. “Master Orane has spoken many times of the demon and my parents death. Tell me, Baron Dek, when you wore the crown, how fast did you learn to command it?”

  “That is difficult to say, Highness. So much happened. The power of the crown didn’t come to me until I remembered a question your father asked me that morning.”

  “What was that?”

  “He asked, ‘What is the crown?’ I answered that it was Carandir itself, the life and soul of the nation. After that, I just knew how to contain the demon. It obeyed my commands and walked into a cell under the keep. Then, I told it to sleep, and it did.

  “However, there is something else, Highness. It may make no difference to you, being Avar’s heir. Still, be warned. The seduction of the crown was nearly beyond me. I had the power to do anything I desired. No force was capable of stopping me. The greatest challenge I have ever faced was sealing the crown back in the crystal sphere.”

  Ryckair thought about this for a long moment. “Jarat warned me to think only of Carandir.” His mind wandered to Mirjel and whether the crown would allow him to save her. He told Dek about the target poison Shara had sent. “It becomes impotent at the full moon. I do not know if the terec has found her or not.”

  Dek said, “I love my daughter deeply, and I know you do as well. It has always been plain to my with eyes. When I asked your father to grant her hand to the next king, I pictured someone like you. By the grace of the dragons, I was right. I will command everyone to seek the poison and trust to the dragons.”

  Trees were lumbered and loaded onto one of the smaller merchant galleys. As soon as the lumber was strapped down, Dek escorted Ryckair and Jarat onboard. Nissor stayed on shore, having shown a dislike for ships during the crossing.