Road To Shandara (Book One of The Safanarion Order) (14 page)

The remaining Ryakul charged toward Aaron, its black wings spread, but it remained on ground propelling itself with giant leaps in reckless abandon. The Dragon pounced mightily driving the thrashing Ryakul into the ground. The two beasts were a tangle of claw and talon each snapping at the other. Aaron closed the distance between them as the Ryakul’s soulless green eyes fixed upon him, even with the Dragon tearing the life from it. Aaron roared as he leaped driving his Falcons through the eyes of the Ryakul avoiding the sharp saber sized tusks from its mouth.

The Dragon eyed him curiously. The boiling rage within him that demanded the death of the Ryakul had subsided and calmness returned. Aaron sheathed his swords and stood holding his empty palms showing the Dragon that he meant no harm. He wasn’t sure why he sheathed his swords, but it felt right not to arm himself in the presence of a Dragon. Perhaps it was a common enemy, for the Ryakul could be nothing else to him. Verona was right, they were an abomination. The Dragon snorted and turned favoring one of its legs and began to limp off.

“Are you ok?” Verona called behind him.

Aaron couldn’t take his eyes off the Dragon and tried to resist the urge to follow. The Dragon looked back towards them and cocked its head at them, then kept going.

“Let’s follow him,” said Aaron. Verona nodded, clearly at a loss for words, and they began to follow the Dragon. They kept their distance at first, but with the passage of time they grew bolder. The Dragon turned to look at them a few more times and when he was satisfied that they were following, didn’t look back again. As time went on the Dragon’s breathing became more labored. All the graceful agility the Dragon displayed in his battle with the Ryakuls was fading with each strenuous step. Aaron asked Verona if he had any idea where the Dragon was taking them.

“I’m not sure.” Verona replied. “What happened to you back there?” He asked seizing the moment for conversation. “One moment you were next to me and the next you charged. Where did you get those swords?” Verona continued.

Aaron took a moment to gather his thoughts. He’d been thinking the same thing for a while now. Why did he charge into that clearing? “I’m not sure what came over me. When I saw the Dragon making it’s stand against all those Ryakuls it was as if I had become the Dragon and his fight became my fight.” Aaron said with his hand absently rubbing the Dragon tattoo beneath his shirt. “These swords were bequeathed to me by my grandfather when he died.”

“There are stories, legends really,” Verona began, “about men of the Safanarion Order whose connection to their souls were so in tune and strong that their connection to every living thing was amplified to a level of unspeakable proportions. They could feel the life force of all those around them and many believed that they could read minds, but perhaps it’s due to their heightened perceptions that they were able to know what was in a man’s heart even if that man didn’t know. Not sure about that. They were more in tune with all forms of life and were therefore both shunned and rejoiced by man. And in some cases, like in recent history, they were hunted by those jealous of their power. Legend says that the Safanarion Order’s most gifted members were known to have the mark of the goddess. Ferasdiam marked, it was called. If what you are saying is true then perhaps
you
are such a man.” Verona said and then after considering for a moment, “Who was your grandfather?” He asked in a tone that belied the seriousness of the question.

At some point during Verona’s speech Aaron clenched his jaw shut and was about to reply, but the Dragon had abruptly stopped, it’s labored breathing coming in gasps.

There is no time.

Aaron heard the words in his mind and looked to Verona for some confirmation that he too heard those words, but there was none.

He cannot hear me. Only you as a bearer of our mark can speak and walk among us in this way.
Only the bearer of the staff will have the power to aid us and drive away the spawn of shadow. You must come. There is no time.

 
The Dragon swung its mighty head to get a better look with his golden eyes peering at them intently.

“He looks hungry,” Verona whispered nervously.

“No, he won’t harm us,” Aaron whispered back. He focused himself as if he would when wielding the Falcons and immediately his perceptions sharpened. The power was there at his call, all he needed to do was reach out.

What can I do to help you? Can I ease your pain somehow?

The Dragon narrowed it’s gaze, turned away, and began taking great strides ahead and they had to leap to catch up.

Just keep up. There is something you must see.

The pace the dying Dragon set left them little chance for talking requiring all their efforts to simply keep up. The horses grew increasingly nervous and they decided to lead them rather that ride them. Aaron spoke soothing words to each animal rubbing gently at their necks and the horses calmed down enough to follow the Dragon. They began to climb a steep hill and the setting sun filled the sky behind them in a brilliant orange blaze. Aaron could no longer see the clearing where they first came upon the Dragon and was amazed at how far they had traveled. Thighs burning with every effort, they crested the hill and were met with a twilight sky on the other side. They stood at the ring of a vast crater where the trees grew thick, blocking their view of its mysterious interior.

Aaron peered down and noticed the occasional stone tower peeking out over the forest canopy. The towers looked old and worn down, slowly being consumed by the forest. The Dragon thundered down the crater making its own path and Aaron followed. The thick gnarled trees gave way grudgingly to the Dragon’s hapless passing. There was something down there amidst the ruins hidden in the forest, he could feel it. The air felt vibrant with energy and Aaron felt a sense of calm settle in all around him. He looked at Verona who nodded his unspoken confirmation that he felt it too. He had never answered Verona’s question earlier, but he knew sooner or later the subject of his linage would come up again. A faint mist toiled on the ground as they made their way deeper into the crater. Verona produced a glowing crystal hanging on the end of a chain. The crystal illuminated their path enough to allow them to safely navigate through the trees in the fading light. They continued to follow the Dragon when Aaron noticed a faint light glowing in the distance.

“What do you think it is?” Verona asked breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. Let’s go see,” Aaron said quickly.

He could barely see Zeus trotting ahead with the end of his bushy tail catching the light. Aaron quickened his pace until they came upon a clearing with a circle of white columns surrounding a pool of water lined with stone. Something in the water was glowing sending shimmering waves of lights that danced upon the trees and columns alike. The light grew brighter as they approached revealing the statue of a beautiful woman seemingly standing on the water. Her flowing gown and long hair shifted amidst the shadows leaving Aaron awestruck at the level of detail on the statue.

The Dragon heaved its body down behind the pool with its tail and head wrapped on either side. The light reflecting off its golden hide showered them in a rainbow of color. The eyes of the statue were startlingly life like, capturing the essence of pride and strength making him want stand taller with his shoulders back. Through the shimmering light her appearance changed from a beloved sister, to mother, to friend and lover all in cyclical elegance. The darkness that dwelled in his heart inched back grudgingly, but the molten anger and sadness refused to give way completely. He held on to them as he would to a cliff to keep from falling into the void. He would have his vengeance.

He stepped closer and the rune carved staff tingled in his hands sending eddies of energy coursing through him and the Dragon tattoo on his chest ached anew. The eyes of the statue drew him in and he stood as if spellbound.

You are in the presence of the goddess.

The Dragon said and Verona must have heard him, because he sank to his knees muttering a prayer. Aaron tore his eyes away from the statue and the Dragon stared pointedly back at him.

“It’s a statue,” said Aaron.

It’s a symbol,
the Dragon replied. The tattoo on his chest flared anew making Aaron wince at the sharp burning pain.
“Cleanse the mark of the Ferasdiam with the sacred waters.”

The burning intensified and Aaron scrambled to get his shirt off. He plunged his hands into the cool waters and quickly brought them up to his chest over and over until the burning subsided. The pain was completely gone. The Dragon markings on his chest no longer appeared fresh, but looked as if they had always been there. Perhaps they had and coming to this world made the mark of the Dragon come forward. Had his grandfather or mother known about this, he wondered? What could they have done regardless? He turned to snatch up his shirt when he heard Verona gasp staring wide eyed at him.

“You are one of the gifted, a member of the Safanarion Order. You are Ferasdiam marked,” Verona said pointing at Aaron’s chest.

Aaron snatched his shirt from the floor and noticed that the medallion came off when he took his shirt off earlier, which was a blessing. He put on both shirt and medallion at the same time keeping the latter hidden. The medallion had his family crest, which would surely announce who he was and he didn’t want that known until he knew more about the Alenzar’seth.

“I didn’t have this mark until yesterday,” replied Aaron turning to look at the Dragon. “I don’t know where it came from or what it means.”

Gaze into the sacred waters and allow the goddess to show you her vision,
said the Dragon.

Aaron slowly stepped up to the water’s edge bracing himself for what he was about to see. Verona and Zeus joined him and he was comforted by their presence. One of whom he had known a long time and the other barely more than a day. He steadied himself taking a deep focusing breath and gazed into the calm waters allowing them to draw his eyes as it willed. The light deep within the water flared brighter beginning to pulse becoming more intense. Aaron looked up, his eyes transfixed on the statue in silent anticipation. Then in a space between moments the eyes of the statue opened revealing an orchestra of images so vast that he felt as if the world both faded away and collided with him at the same time. A dark and dismal land devoid of life where a lone beacon of light blazed drew him closer. The ruins of a vast castle whose craftsmanship and sheer majestic qualities were clearly evident, even in its dilapidated state, surrounded him. He focused in on a tower, which had a massive carved relief of a Dragon caressing a single precious rose and his mind reeled in recognition of the Alenzar’seth’s family symbol. The images, as if reacting to his recognition, shifted once again to a lone white tree amidst a courtyard, which stood in stark contrast to shadow lands about. Aaron knew immediately that he must go there. A series of images swept by too fast for him to register, but he recognized Colind and a lone hand bearing the mark of a leaf on its palm.

The land needs a champion. Time is short and already the sickness spreads, Ryakuls are just the beginning of what was unleashed at the fall of Shandara.

The words and images were synonymous in his mind and all begged the question of what could he do about this? He was a stranger to this land, this was not his home. The remains of his home were nothing but a burned out shell devoid of anything to mark the passing of better days. He came here seeking vengeance and to protect those he loved that were still alive back home.

The fate of the land falls upon the house of Alenzar’seth of which you are the last. Guardianship of the land is a legacy shared with the Safanarion Order who have all but vanished. Fate has chosen you for this.

“I make my own fate!” Aaron shouted at the Dragon. “They brought this battle to me. I didn’t ask for this,” he said drawing his swords and throwing them down to the ground glaring. “I want Mactar and in order for me to get to him I need Colind. Where can I find him?”

The fury erupted like a deadly viper turning his molten blood to acid. He had been here before, the place where the fires of his rage took him, where he hated everything including living. His life meant nothing in the face of vengeance, so dark was his vision that everything turned grey and meaningless around him. He struggled against the tumultuous darkness threatening to reign supreme inside him.

Remember who you are!
His father’s deep voice filled his ears. A lone voice of reason amidst a furious storm. This is not who he was, he told himself over and over again and like a spark to a flame his sense of self returned, but the echo of dark rage remained imprinted upon the edges.

The Dragon stared at him pointedly.
Your quest for vengeance will consume you if you let it.

“It’s all I have,” Aaron choked.

The Dragon regarded him for a moment, his eyes looked exhausted and seemed to both look at him and look beyond him.
The choice is yours.
The wanderer dwells in his prison among the ruins of Shandara, seek him out there if you will, but be warned he is not as he once was.

Those were the last words the Dragon spoke before he laid his head down in a great sigh and breathed no more. A golden hue surrounded the Dragon, his body becoming transparent, transforming into countless golden sparkles ascending into the night sky and Aaron couldn’t help but feel a tremendous sense of loss. Dragons were the stuff of legends back home, but a real life encounter with such a majestic creature was awe inspiring to say the least. They were creatures of high intelligence and purpose, not simpletons ruled by animalistic passion.

The eyes of the statue closed once more and the light coming from the waters diminished to a soothing glow. Aaron stood staring at those waters and the statue both long enough to notice that Verona had built a good sized fire. He went over to the fire and sat down across from Verona who absently stoked the flames.