Hope in the Shadows

by Umut Ersezer

  The peaceful slumber of before was now replaced with a deep throaty growl as the dragon raised its head away from Volare. Its legs beginning to flex as the muscles came to life, lifting the dragon off the ground to peer down upon the disturbers of its sleep. The scales along its body flared out, the sharp points now sticking out in a defensive posture.

  Volare ran back to Brun who was in a panic, taking his reins once more to try and calm his companion. The dragon stood tens of metres tall, its wings stretching out from its body, the space too confining to allow them to fully unfurl. The dragon opened its mouth wide, revealing countless serrated teeth, all of which came to a needle-sharp point. Volare stood still, praying to whatever god there was in the cosmos to not let the dragon eat him. No, it’s yawning! Volare realised, only slightly relaxing.

  The dragon lowered its head, bringing its nostrils close to Volare and Brun, taking in a great whiff of their odour, or probably their stench more accurately. It focused its gaze onto Brun, a forked tongue licking its lips.

  “Oh no, you don’t! Stay back, dragon! Volare cried out while stepping in between the two beasts.

  Brun reared up, giving a mighty neigh, showing that it was ready for a fight. A valiant but pointless show of defiance as the dragon would have little trouble swallowing both Brun and Volare in a single gulp.

  The dragon’s gaze was now locked onto Volare, its pupils thinning, the scales along its body returning to their flat, non-threatening state.

  “You have come Volare, well done,” the dragon bellowed with a deep throaty voice.

  “Y…y…you can talk!?” Volare exclaimed back.

  “I can do many things child, you will learn of these as we embark on our journey.”

  “What journey? How did you talk in my mind before? Was that you flying above the clouds when I escaped the cave? How did you end up here?” Volare asked.

  “HAHA, you are full of questions, yes, of course you are,” the dragon bellowed. “Let’s start with names for I know yours, but you do not know mine.”

  Volare peered up at the dragon in wonderment of the vision before him. A talking dragon! he thought, his mind and heart racing.

  “I am known as Ferox, dragon of Gandizar Eshi, a god by your standards. Together we ruled this land, creating its lifelings, the eshin.

  “You mean…the gods are real!?” Volare exclaimed.

  “It depends on your definition of god, young Volare. If you consider your creators, gods, then yes. One of them stands before you now,” replied Ferox.

  Volare’s eyes were now wide open, barely able to process what he was hearing.

  “How did you end up here?” Volare asked.

  “Long ago there came a time where Gandizar and the other two lifeling gods needed to leave this world to fight the darkspawn tearing apart other worlds. We dragons stayed behind to keep watch over the lands for the inevitable arrival of the Mirardos, the Shadow Lord as he is also known. We entered our slumber in our sleeping chambers, before the destructions, able to remain dormant for thousands of years until the time came as it has now. My subconscious stirred when I sensed his arrival, but the cataclysms of eons past left me, and I can only assume my brethren, trapped, buried under millennia of upheaval. This chamber can no longer sense my presence, I was unable to open the gates to my freedom; clearly, a flawed design in its construction and too weak to force my way out,” the dragon continued explaining, taking a second look at Brun and licking its lips again.

  “I was forced to wait for an opportunity to present itself, an opportunity that would show itself in the form of you, Volare Fortem.

  “But…how did you talk to me? In my mind? Why me?” asked Volare.

  “The artefact that you found in that cave, which was probably actually a place of worship long ago, is known as a keystone-link. It serves many purposes, one of which allows me to communicate with you over vast distances. It also has the power to manipulate now ancient technologies, the entrance to this cavern being one of them,” Ferox explained. “I was not sure it would work in opening the entrance, but as it stands, luck this time was on my side.”

  “Was it you who was flying above the clouds outside of the cave I escaped? Volare asked. Ferox looked at him quizzically. “I thought I saw the shadow of a dragon above the clouds…I guess that couldn’t have been you…did you somehow create an illusion?” Volare continued.

  “No, I am not able to do that, whatever you saw Volare was either in your mind only, or another dragon, however, I cannot sense my brethren. I assume they are still slumbering…or dead,” Ferox said, his voice growing softer as he finished his response. “The amethyst ring you carry with you, it clears the mind of illusions and poisons, sharpening ones attention. Equip it when you have the chance, it will serve to protect you and also strengthen our bond.

  Volare approached Brun and opened one of his rucksacks, digging deep into one of its secret compartments. He pulled out his mother’s amethyst ring, a deep magenta under the blueish glow of the wall symbols. He tied the twine that also carried the keystone-link to it, hanging both of them around his neck.

  “We will need to have armour of sorts forged for you to embed the treasures Volare, you can’t fight with all your powers hanging by your neck, or you’ll find it breaking,” Ferox chuckled.

  “F…fight?” Volare responded.

  “I sense tremendous pain in the world Volare, darkness and corruption are spreading its influence. I have witnessed it before. If all don’t stand in its way, it will devour this world and beyond. Would you allow that to happen, or will you stand against it?” Ferox bellowed formally, challenging Volare.

  “No…I mean…I don’t know the first thing about fighting. I’ve only ever run away. I couldn’t even protect my family, they’re all dead and my father lost,” said Volare as his eyes began to tear up.

  He hadn’t yet dealt with the emotions of losing his family, not properly, how could he? Instead, it was pushed down, bottled deep within him and hidden away. “How can I fight…Mirardos?”

  “With training, you are capable of more Volare, the ring deems it so, it sees your heart and mind to be pure, I can sense it. It is you who has sought me out and freed me. You have proven yourself worthy thus far. This world will fall, like countless others to the corruption that spreads throughout the cosmos. We must find more willing to stand up to it,” explained Ferox.

  Volare nodded, not really believing what the dragon was telling him but decided to go with it anyway. He didn’t exactly feel like refusing a dragon god within the confines of the cavern, or anywhere else for that matter.

  “So, what now? I only know of one smith, Faber but he’s lost too, and I’ve no idea where he is.”

  “Now Volare, I have slept long, too long,” Ferox groaned as a deep grumble sounded from his belly. “I must eat, regain my strength, then I wish to find my eshin. I can’t feel their presence in this land anymore. Then we can find your father and this Faber smith of yours.”

  “Uhh…well, you see, there was a war a few decades ago, and uhh…the eshin were driven out of the lands by King Hastam,” explained Volare, barely loud enough to be heard.

  Ferox gave a mighty roar of anger. It took Volare and Brun by surprise, knocking them back, Volare falling onto his backside, now terrified again. The roar echoed within the chambers, enhancing its volume, even more, Volare’s eardrums felt as if they were about to burst.

  “So the shadows have advanced here too, the codes broken, Mirardos is attracted to such atrocities. We must find the eshin Volare!” bellowed Ferox.

  “Father told me they escaped south into the land of Ethya,” reassured Volare.

  “Volare, behind me, in the corner, you will find a riding harness, we will need to work together to secure it. We must leave this place at once,” said Ferox while pointing a huge talon in the direction of the biggest saddle and harness Volare had ever seen.

  “Are you serious?” Volare asked with his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

&n
bsp; Amongst the saddle Volare found two brown leather bracers with a huge emerald embedded into each of them.

  “What are these?” asked Volare.

  “Put them on, the emerald bracers will provide you with vitality and endurance Volare. You will need it for the journey to come. It is not easy holding on to a dragon during flight, especially one that is in combat, or in your case today, hunting,” Ferox explained with what Volare thought was a toothy grin.

  After struggling with the saddle for some time, Volare now sat atop the dragon. Something which he could only ever have dreamt of. Ferox navigated the huge corridor that Volare had entered through before, Brun running closely behind. Volare’s saddle lurched left to right with each gigantic step of the dragon, its talons scraping against the metal underfoot.

  Ferox almost running up the steps, launched himself into the air, fully spreading his wings for the first time in eons, they beat the air hard. Each beat surging the dragon and Volare higher into the sky until Ferox caught an air current and soared with outstretched wings.

  “Oh, how I’ve missed flying! Too long, TOO LONG I have remained underground. The world will see me now, it is time!” roared Ferox.

  Volare felt the dragon inhale an enormous breath of air, then release it with a colossal column of fire pointed at the heavens. Volare felt the heat of it, nearly singing his hair, they flew right through the flame as it dissipated and vanished into the air around it. The dragon now banking aggressively left and right, stretching his wings and muscles, enjoying the feeling of flight. Volare hung onto the reins for dear life. He wasn’t sure if he was riding the dragon or the dragon him. He could only focus on holding on.

  Ferox suddenly plunged headfirst towards the sea below. Volare gave a cry which was swallowed up by the rushing air around him. Ferox skimmed the water surface, its talons just briefly touching the water until finally, Ferox altered the angle of his wings, nearly stopping mid-flight, he plunged his talons into the water, plucking out a huge bappik fish, the size of Volare himself.

  These were impossible to catch with fishing rods, too powerful to be reeled in. They were amongst the richest of sea meats. Ferox beat his wings hard, once again climbing vertically while bringing the fish up to his mouth with his foot and swallowing it whole.

  “These fish numbers have grown rich in my absence! I will gorge on them!”

  For the next hour or two Ferox filled his belly with bappik as fat as crags, satiating his incomparable hunger. Volare was exhausted from holding onto the reins but didn’t let go, the emeralds on his bracers refracting bright greens from within them.

  Volare willed himself to learn Ferox’ flight patterns, trying to move his body in unison with the dragon. Volare suspected that was precisely why the dragon wanted Volare flying with him during the hunt.

  “It is time, we head for Ethya” Ferox declared.

  “Wait! What of Brun!? We can’t leave him Ferox!”

  The dragon circled back towards the beach where Brun had been loyally waiting at the water’s edge. Ferox lined up his flight parallel to the beach, stretching out the talons of his foot as he approached Brun.

  “Oh, no…be careful!” cried Volare.

  In one fluid movement, Ferox swooped down and safely collected Brun within its foot. Its talons forming a cage around Brun so that he couldn’t fall during the flight.

  With all parties accounted for and the dragon now replenished, the party soared high into the air, finding wind currents to help them sail to Ethya, the new land of the eshin. For the first time, in a long time, Volare felt free from the chaos and pain inflicted upon him on the land below. Nothing could hurt him up here, riding on his very own dragon.

  He felt euphoric, a sense of calmness soaring so high, the sound of rushing air around him drowning out most thoughts. He wished he could have shared this experience with Amet, tears once again welling in his eyes.

  He willed them away, putting the sadness back into the bottle he had mentally constructed for them. He gripped the ring under his shirt, his despair being replaced with resolve, no I can mourn later; first I have to find father, Faber and kill Mirardos with Ferox. Volare however, didn’t understand the scope of darkness confronting him, the shadows at play from behind curtains Volare didn’t know existed.

  Regardless, he now rode the only hope he could find that would give the world a chance to burn the shadows and light the darkness with dragon fire. He gripped the reins with both hands once more and contemplated the training Ferox mentioned, to come. Am I really going to fight? How? he continued to wonder. I guess I’ll find out when we get to Ethya. Hang in there father, I’m coming for you. This time I’ve got a dragon!

  ** Chapter 17 **

  The Sighting

  Faber worked tirelessly, beating hammer to glowing red hot metal. He usually got a thrill out of shaping blank metal into something useful, but that was when he had the freedom to hammer what he wished. Now he was forced into hammering an endless supply of generic swords and spear tips.

  He had been taken to Honour Haven, given a space to establish a new workshop within the depths of the garrison town. He was in the metalworking district, but his assigned task was weapons specifically.

  Word had spread of his skill for weapon forgery from the quality products he sold to visiting soldiers, captains and commanders back in Vicus.

  He didn’t particularly like the idea of selling weapons, but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction of charging ample gold for weapons forged with enough skill and attention to detail to also be considered art. That skill, however, led him into the forced labour he now endured. His forge was hot, amplified by the searing sun above. He couldn’t wait for winter where his forge would be a place of comforting warmth rather than oppression.

  His young new young apprentice Porro, a boy of 12 years and dark features, worked the bellows, blowing vital oxygen soaked air into the glowing coals of the forge. The shutters of the forge were shut tight, the forge needed to be dark in order for Faber to see the temperature of the metal. The swords he forged now were made of simple iron rather than the alloy weapons he made in Vicus.

  “Harder boy!” Faber called out to his apprentice.

  “I’m blowing as hard as I can!” Porro cried in return.

  “Just a few more pumps! There!” Faber said as he pulled out the rod of glowing iron from his forge, transferring it over to his anvil so he can begin hammering shape into it.

  He started by flattening the metal, Porro assisting with metal tongs by helping Faber position the iron on the anvil correctly. Faber’s great hammer slammed down hard against the metal, he was a skilled and robust dwarf making short work of iron sword crafting, a trivial task underutilizing his talents. His role in this war was to produce a countless number of swords, taking priority over quality like the steel alloys he could produce.

  “Good, good! Return to the bellows boy!” Faber instructed.

  “I have a name, you know!” Porro called back.

  “I’m wel’aware o’yur name, boy! Now stop your yammering and blow the damn bellows!”

  Porro bit his tongue to hold himself back from insulting the dwarf. He was worked hard in Faber’s forge, harder than most apprentices he felt. But Faber also paid him a portion of his meagre salary, an act the other trade masters resented as they preferred not to pay their apprentices. Especially when they were earning a pittance of what they used to before being dragged into the garrison town.

  He also respected Faber’s skill with the hammer and saw an opportunity to learn the trade from him. Porro had never considered becoming a blacksmith, he had never considered becoming much of anything. He was homeless back in his village, no opportunities available to him, so he volunteered when the military came through for conscription.

  He was malnourished, spindly and weak, useless as a soldier. But Faber had taken notice of him when he arrived and brought him under his wing, giving him shelter and food and an opportunity to save some silver. Porro now for the first time
had a vision for the future, an aspiration to be the master of his own forge. So he followed Faber’s commands and listened intently trying to learn as much as he could.

  He worked the bellows firing heat into the metal, and for the next few hours, the pair of them forged and sharpened swords. Late into the afternoon, there came cries of what sounded like panic from outside the forge.

  “What’s going on? asked Porro.

  “Nuthin good probably,” Faber groaned in response.

  Faber wiped the sweat from his brow and walked over to one of the shutters to open them. The sudden light streaming into the forge was blinding. It took a few moments for the smith and his apprentice to adjust their eyes to the harsh light.

  “People are gatherin, we better go see what the fuss is about boy,” Faber said.

  He led the pair of them through the double timber doors and out onto the makeshift dirt street. It was lined with all kinds of metal trades that were required to not only sustain a fast-growing town but equip the soldiers that patrolled and trained within its walls.

  Tradesmen and women were streaming into the streets to see what the commotion was. Faber feared for the worst, he had seen the darkspawn attack during his journey to Honour Haven, but in the weeks he had been here there was still no attack on the garrison itself.

  They all seemed to be feeding a darkspawn war that didn’t exist as far as any of the tradespeople could tell. Faber noticed the crowd now pointing to the sky, looking up while trying to shield their eyes with a hand. He followed their gaze.

  “Whoah!” Porro exclaimed, pointing upwards with a finger to guide Faber’s eyes. “Look!”

  “What is it, boy?” Faber asked as he followed Porro’s finger.

  Faber’s eyes widened with wonder “it can’t be!” he said to himself out loud.

  He could hardly believe his eyes, and he wouldn’t if it wasn’t for the tens of others in the street looking at the same thing. High into the sky soared a gigantic violet-navy creature, one that remarkably resembled a dragon of myth and legend. Its wings stretched so wide it could blot out the sun.