Dargonfire: Age of Legend

by LJ Davies

  I don't have time for this! I've no idea where I am, or what to do!

  "It's not wise to turn your tail upon a hawk of Red-Fire," a strange, kooky and vaguely familiar voice suddenly chimed, followed by a light snigger.

  I know that voice? It can't be? I spun round to face the last dragon I ever expected.

  "You!"

  Confusion completely consumed my mind as the grinning face of the withered, old earth dragon greeted me. Many of the Cartographer's aged features were hidden under a tattered hood and robe. I could barely see his horns, folded wings, scarred scales and clouded eyes. The only things I could really make out were his paws, spiked tail and horn-tipped muzzle. He held a wooden staff in the small fingers of his right wing; it looked like a piece of driftwood, and yet the twisted stub that was its upper end emitted a faint green glow.

  What in the creators’ name is he doing here, of all dragons?

  The crazy, old dragon I'd met in Dardien’s archives gave a disgruntled snort of disapproval.

  "You know, for one who spends so much time tracking their prey, you would do well to cover your own paw prints," he grumbled, the second of his two personalities snickering as I glanced down at my paws.

  I shifted with a hint of shame, sending ripples through the water as the Cartographer nodded to the phoenix. Ruffling its feathers and puffing up its chest, it ignited a small pile of twigs. The old dragon moved toward the blossoming fire, placing a larger log on the juvenile flames. The sudden warmth broke my stupor, and I shook my head as I moved closer.

  "What in the creators' name are you doing here?" I asked, while he fanned the fire with a wing.

  He paused, and with a simple wave of his staff, nudged me aside to retrieve more wood. He moved with far more agility than his withered look suggested, bringing my judgment into question.

  Is anyone I know really who they say they are?

  "Who else were you expecting?" he asked somewhat sourly, leaning his staff between two crooked branches.

  My mind raced. Maybe Pyro, some ebon wings? orkin perhaps... Just not him!

  "He didn't look like he was expecting anyone, especially not one from Dardien," the second of his personalities added with a laugh, only to be cut off by a slap from the former.

  My eyes darted about, looking for something that would suggest this was a dream. Meanwhile, he looked at me as if he could see so many things I could not, as if I was the strange one!

  No, this is real, he's really here? But if he was in Dardien after I left...? My mind raced and questions surged forward.

  "In Dardien, what happened? Aries closed off the city and we..."

  He silenced my jabbering with a wave of his forepaw, his second personality giving a tiresome sigh.

  "We thought we warned you of the Sovereign's tendencies?” he asked.

  “A lying snake, unworthy of his place, an insult to the great line of Goldfire," his second personality hissed scornfully.

  Seemingly insulted by the mention of Aries’ name, he wrapped a forepaw around his muzzle. Recalling the last time we met, I tried to humour his bickering, knowing it was the best way to get answers.

  Maybe if he'd been a little clearer about what he meant, I could have avoided most of this.

  "What happened after the attack on the celebration?" I asked again.

  He released his grip, stopped his muttering, and with his tail still twitching, his first personality continued.

  "You fled with the aid of the princess, did you not?"

  I nodded.

  "Vulkaine's doing, we presume – he always did like you. We all did," he added with a smile.

  That feeling's hardly mutual. I inwardly grumbled.

  My opinion on the Elders was no better than those I associated with the creators. All they wanted was for me to fulfil their agendas, although I didn’t yet know what constituted the Elders’ agenda. The Cartographer's look changed and any hope faded briefly from his eyes.

  "Things in Dardien haven't been good since that night," he explained. "The Sovereign tried to accuse the Elders of treason. He suggested that you were an imposter and a danger to the city. Many disagreed, however; fear drove most to see things differently," he confessed sadly, glancing at the fiery bird perched beside him.

  I felt a new knot tighten in my stomach. I knew I didn't belong there with them, no more than I'd belonged with Tarwin, but to think I'd caused all of that. I glanced back at the old dragon as his second voice muttered angrily about Aries being a vile worm.

  "And Zephyra, what did she do?" I asked, dreading a reality in which the princess was among those to betray me.

  The Cartographer smiled at the mention of her name.

  "It would seem that the legends have not been completely forgotten," he answered with a widening grin.

  “Upon the twilight of ages, the skies will break to bring forth the Fallen Star of scornful wrath and eternal hate,” his second voice began to chant.

  Hopeful about his response, I ignored his muttering. Don't think about that stupid legend, I know it's just a ruse.

  "No, the princess did not hide while her father's madness gripped the city; it would seem that you inspired her," he explained admirably. "Not a bad dragoness to save, we might add, and the day she realised how dire things were, her entire order followed, joining with a good proportion of the others who followed the Elders over Aries."

  There was a hint of hope in his tone, as if he'd been waiting to say such a thing for a very long time. Glancing to his staff, he took it in his wing fingers once again.

  "The New Order follows her lead now, and they are the best hope of stopping the Brazen Horde," he added, glancing back with a knowing stare. "Yet they will soon face an enemy known to none."

  I glanced away shamefully. No, an enemy known to me. The one I failed to stop.

  "You know, don't you?" he accused. "You've seen them. The curse of the ebon wing has not been seen for almost seven centuries – their presence among the demon horde is a dire sign indeed."

  He stared into the fire, and I swore his gaze caused the flames to shiver into unnatural images of beating wings and flame-spewing dragons. All that flashed through my mind was my battle against Pyro at Ilivar, the sight of his scarred face and his torn limb. I shied away, disturbing the flames with a beat of my wings, casting the image into a frenzied spiral of smoke and embers.

  "I can't go back," I declared, my eyes not daring meet his.

  He frowned, but didn't pull his gaze away from the settling flames.

  "You are the guardian, will of the creators, if you will not stop this, no one will," he stated, as if rehearsed.

  "Cometh then one of unnatural blood, born to one of the nine great races of our legacy. For when darkness falls, and the most ancient of shadows is reborn, cometh the last great Guardian to whom we are solely sworn, descendant of shadow, light, life and death, their loss will transcendent," his second voice continued relentlessly as he leaned forward, holding himself up with his staff.

  I shook my head, trying to block out the guilt as I fought back the confusion.

  It's all too fast, too sudden! It's been so long; I can't go back!

  His knowing look told me that both he and the Elders had always known more about me than they cared to share.

  "No! I failed to stop this; I've repeatedly failed. Obviously, whatever they intended me to be wasn't enough," I hissed.

  He paused and shook his head.

  "Our victories are measured in failures as much as in successes. It is, however; our will to carry on which defines us," he advised.

  Reluctantly, I sank back down, fighting the urge to cower beneath my wings. As guilt welled up inside, the repressed feelings of the months hidden away broke free, searching desperately for any excuse to discourage my return home.

  "Then I've failed," I admitted, bowing my head. "And I don't want to fail again."

  The silence lasted no more than a heartbeat, before the old dragon started laughing. It wasn't the re
bellious snigger of his second voice, he was actually chuckling as he added.

  "We have seen failure, we have seen heroes fall, but that day we first met you, we saw the determination in your eyes." His laughter paused as he shook his head. "We had no doubt of who you were then, so why have you lost the will to go so far for those you hold dear?"

  "The day we met, in the archive?" I questioned.

  I wasn't doing that for anyone other than myself?

  He laughed again, shaking his head.

  "Oh no, we mean the day we saw you fly into a tree," he corrected quickly and my confusion dispersed in an instant.

  "You! You were the one who brought me to Dardien?" I stuttered in surprise, and he nodded.

  "We admit it was the most surprised we'd seen the Elders in an age, and as for the little blue dragoness the healers left you with, well she too, was just as shocked," he explained.

  I felt my heart ignite and then fall into a depressing ache as the memory of the day I'd met Risha came back to me.

  "I'm sure she was," I admitted.

  He seemed to notice the effect his words had on me and pointed his staff at the empty socket in my armour, the wooden tip glowing brightly for a moment, forcing the golden metal to do the same. I shifted away as he pointed to the spot where the first good feeling I’d had in months had sparked – a warm heart, burning like dragonfire.

  "We doubt a god could truly know such emotion, their omnipotent nature makes them blind to such things, their immortality far too distracting to truly understand the struggles of mortal kind," he explained with another jab at my chest.

  I staggered back beyond his reach as he continued.

  "That is where you differ, and whether it is fate, destiny or purpose, intended or accidental, you are who you are," he proposed, pulling back his staff. "And you are not one who would sit back and allow the world to die, we might add."

  I glanced about nervously, my mind torn.

  He's just like Mordrakk only... My thoughts came to a halt. I want to listen to him.

  "Mighty fires of starlight will stand against the darkest dawn, and upon blades of crackling fire, corrupt blood will be drawn. When starry skies of longest night are gazed upon in times of greatest doubt and direst fear, age’s twilight grows ever near," his second voice continued to mutter to itself.

  "If I go back, he'll get the amulet, he'll kill everyone," I whimpered.

  "Upon that new dawn, the most magnificent light will bless such skies, as stars clash upon dying age’s coming night. When golden spires become awash with dragonfire, all will know of their last great saviour. So will end the reign of our grand creator," he rambled on until, with a hard slap of his muzzle, he silenced himself.

  "Tell me, Guardian, how long have you lived?" his former voice enquired.

  "Barely fifteen winters – no, I–I mean seasons. I don't really know which anymore."

  He pulled back his staff, leaning it against his wing and locked his eyes with mine.

  "And in all that time, who was it that chose to do what was right? Who felt, who cared, who lived, ate, drank and flew?" he asked, firmly nudging my wings with his barbed tail.

  The reality of his words slowly gripped me, and Mordrakk's dark voice was nowhere to disagree.

  "It wasn't the darkness that first drove you to Ilivar, nor did you run when faced with the power of the Great Master," he added, glancing down at my chest. "There is who we are told to be, and then there is who we choose to be, and we do not make that decision with our minds," he told me sincerely as he reached to tap my chest plate again.

  I made no effort to avoid him as I thought about that. Just like Vulkaine said, I never really did any of that because I was told to.

  "The choice we must make is whether to stand for what we love or let fear and darkness take us," he added simply.

  With the thoughts spinning in my mind, I knew what I should do; in fact, I knew exactly what I wanted to do and what was going to keep my friends safe.

  "When golden spires become awash with dragonfire, all will know of their last great saviour. So will end the reign of our grand creator," his second voice repeated the rhythmic conclusion of my legend.

  "Wait, you called me ‘Guardian’? How do you know about all that? How do you know about any of this?" I asked, and raising himself from his sedentary position he answered.

  "You did not think everyone had forgotten about the ages that existed before those of legend?"

  "Who are you?" I pressed.

  He gave a deep sigh, his second voice falling completely silent.

  "That is a very long tale, one for another time," he replied, glancing up at the phoenix.

  A wave of frustration fell over me, a million internal voices demanding I should know, especially after the lengths they'd gone to, to deceive me.

  "And what of the fight, the orkin and Mordrakk? I can't defeat them all, regardless of where I am or what you say," I stated.

  "There is a gathering of all wings still loyal to the old alliance upon the ruined overlook of Midnight Watch, be they of leather or feather. It is a five-day flight from here," he stated matter-of-factly. "Zephyra's army stands ready to intercept the Brazen Horde within a month," he explained, turning back to me.

  "But even if Balgore is defeated, what about Mordrakk?” I pressed, but he merely shook his head.

  "You're not as powerless as you think. For it was you who forced the Great Master's hand both times at Ilivar. You've already proven to him you're not so easily set aside. He is still weak, he will bide his time, you must use that."

  But I didn't defeat Mordrakk at Ilivar? I noted, only to consider. True, but I didn't exactly let him get his way either, the Ether is still closed to him.

  "You will make your choice and we will meet you on the sixth day from now," he added as he turned to leave and I shook off my confusion, bolting after him

  "Wait, what about you, where are you going?" I asked.

  He paused, glancing back, not at me, but at the warm glow of the phoenix radiating from above, while the fiery bird neatly preened its feathers.

  "Oh, you do not need us to show the way. Though we guess we are not the only one who has been searching for you."

  That idea made me both cautiously optimistic and fearful all at once as the old dragon added.

  "As we are sure you have surmised, the ebon wings know of your escape too, they'll be hunting for you."

  I paused on the snow-covered gravel, cold water lapping over my paws, unsure of what to say as he turned toward the snowy forest.

  "We will take our leave, Guardian. Trust that our Eyes will always keep you safe," he added, and the flaming bird behind me cooed in response.

  I turned to see the phoenix straightening and flaring its feathers; it even nodded.

  Did he call his phoenix ‘Eyes’?

  The Cartographer was more mystical than I imagined, a thought that was justified when I looked back to see that he'd vanished. Meanwhile, the glow of the phoenix shifted as the majestic bird flapped its wings and took to the sky, its flight illuminating the tips of snowy pine trees.

  "So, what will you do?" Mordrakk questioned.

  I looked up to see his illusion coiled upon a frost-encrusted mound.

  "I know what you'd ask of me, but you're not him, are you? Not entirely," I challenged, approaching slowly.

  I expected my scars to erupt with pain, but as I stopped at the base of the mound, I felt nothing but the fury in his eyes bearing down on me.

  "You are not completely like him, and if what you tell me is true, you are as much a part of the creators as you are of me." I surmised.

  He growled, and flames spat from his bared teeth.

  "You may think that such an accusation will keep you safe, but know this, Guardian; I will stop at nothing to see the glory of my creation restored, and I will let no one stand before me, not even those traitorous aspects of myself," he threatened, with a fearsome inflection.

  "So, you are differen
t?" I muttered as a new realisation slowly dawned over me.

  He's not entirely like the Mordrakk that I faced at Ilivar.

  My thoughts died as a sharp blade of pain rippled through my scars.

  "You may think what you wish of me, but do not make the mistake of thinking we are equal," he finished, and with a gust of wind, he faded away, as did my pain.

  I staggered back and looked about as my mind fell upon one thing, a break in his mental assault and the motivation I'd been so desperately looking for.

  I have to go back.

  Chapter 3

  Long Road Home

  With the phoenix’s guidance, it wasn't long before I found a vantage point above the snowy forest. The vast ice fields of Valcador rose up at my back, the smoke from the bastions of orkin industry and volcanic pits darkening the sky. Before me lay the vast forest of Shadow Fen, and to the east rose the western foothills of the great Storm Mountains.

  If I kept following their edge to the south, it will lead me toward Dardien. Around the heart of orkin territory.

  I didn't really know much about the cursed forests of Shadow Fen, but what little I did know told that after centuries of vile magic the trees had been corrupted into a vast, twisted thicket of barbs, thorns and rot. I could see the endless wall of tangled roots and sharp, irregular tree stumps beneath the light cover of snow. The orkin that inhabited the foul lands differed greatly from their Valcador kin. In place of industry, they used vile sorcery, more ancient than even the beast-men themselves. While wild manticores thrived in the hellish undergrowth, like flies about a corpse.

  I thought to wait a little longer, to find a safer place to take off from, but lack of time and the longing to get as far from Valcador as I could, made me impatient. To my left, a roaring river cascaded down the steep valley cliffs, creating an updraft of chilled mist. I glanced back at my flared wings, rustling them apprehensively.