Raulin's Oath

Jerry had been in Draconis for six days before he found that for which he came. There was an opening in the mountain below the great castle that housed the king. A massive stone carving of a dragon etched into the side of the face of the rocks encircled the chalice-like gateway that led deep into the hea. He stayed out of the line of sight of the guardians of the tomb-like structure. From the wooded area beyond the heart of Draconis, he had seen Lucius enter yesterday and he still remained inside. There were two priests stationed outside the entrance. They did not seem formidable, but if they raised an alarm... well this was the land of the dragons. He decided that tonight, he would venture into the tunnel to see why of all the areas in Draconis, this was the only one that required guards.

Just before nightfall, Jerry watched the king exit the chamber, and in a flash, he had transformed from his humanoid form into the giant black dragon that they had faced in Belamoris. The Dragon King then soared into the air, the breeze created from his mighty wings sending Jerry’s hood back, his hair billowing in the wind.

Jerry liked the fact that his hair now trailed past his shoulders. Back on Earth, Jerry’s head was shiny and completely hairless from the continual barrage of chemotherapy that was required to keep his cancer at bay. In this land, he was a great thief and a mighty warrior. Back at home, he could barely take care of himself. Jerry knew that if it wasn’t for his mother, he would never return home.

He needed to stop focusing on the negative and finish the task at hand. He had been all over Draconis and had found nothing that would help the Council. It really didn’t make sense that Lucius had taken as much territory as he had. Jerry had counted six dragons, including Lucius, and there was no way that they could hold the lands that they had conquered with so few. This place had an ominous feel about it. If there were any secrets that Lucius held, they had to be here. No one came or went from this area, save the guards that changed four times each day.

He had to time this right. The two replacements headed towards the entrance. Jerry took in a deep breath and, with a laser-like focus, his body disappeared from the visible spectrum. He silently tucked in behind the two as they made their way up the trail to the entrance in the mountain. The guards were an odd lot. They looked more like monks than soldiers. They wore full length black robes with hoods covering their bald heads. The sleeves wrapped around their hands, which were clasped in front of their stomachs. They moved with a subtle grace, walking with perfect posture, heads bowed in silence. The changing of the guard was done without any acknowledgement shared between the pairs. Two simply made their way up, while the others made their way down. They passed each other a few feet in front of the entrance as Jerry darted around them and into the opening. He didn’t dare breathe as he passed the quartet, using the newfound agility that he acquired each time he ventured to Palidonaya. He stayed out of the visible spectrum until he was deep within the cave.

A velvety darkness encapsulated him as he made his way along the passage. Far ahead, a pinpoint of light interrupted the inky blackness. A dry heat seared his cheeks as it blew down the tunnel from the opening ahead. His heart was pounding as he drew nearer to the light at the end of the tunnel. As he approached the aperture, the blistering breeze swept his brown locks from his shoulders. He stepped towards the entrance, eyes watering from the brimstone in the searing breeze. The enormous chamber beyond the tunnel was lit by the magma that flowed in rivers below.

Jerry stood at the entrance, viewing an obsidian path that led from his position to a large platform that was created over the molten rock. The heat in the chamber was almost unbearable, but he continued down the path, leaving the visible spectrum once again. As he carefully made his way to the large platform at the center of the chamber, the seventh dragon of Draconis sat patiently, looking fierce and intimidating. It was positioned at the end of the path standing between Jerry and whatever it was guarding.

Jerry froze in place as the mighty dragon took in a deep breath. He refocused to remove his scent from the room, praying that he wasn’t too late. If the dragon sensed him, he would die. There was no hope of him reaching the tunnel and making his way to safety. He reached the place where the path ended and the platform began. The great beast lay several feet in front of him, yet he could not see beyond. He slowly inched along the edge of the platform, careful to not disturb the dragon. It took all of his focus to remain hidden from it. As he circled past the beast’s tail, his breath caught in his throat. Jerry had to report back to the council everything that he had seen. There was no hope for Palidonaya, as beyond the dragon lay hundreds of eggs waiting to hatch. The day of the dragon was almost at hand.

Jerry thought back to his dream, and while it felt wrong, he could not see a future in which the dragon race would not reign supreme. He knew he had little time, knew that once the last states and countries in Palidonaya were taken over, he would not be able to accept all that Lucius had to offer. He could have the world, but was it worth selling his soul for? He shivered, despite the heat that hung in the air.

***

Javaron paced, raking a hand through his red hair, and directing soldiers around his court. He sighed heavily, looking out to his great city. Each night the gates were surrounded by what were once citizens of Aridol, but now served a dark master. The night was lit by the glow from their unnatural emerald green eyes. Each night, more appeared, if he didn’t act soon, there would be no hope of victory. Yet they could not penetrate the shield that the wizards of Dragon’s Bane had created to protect what was left of his people. There was a hum in the air, an energy that suffocated his citizens. He knew, as did they, that many would fall in the upcoming battle. Soldiers manned the large crossbows and lined the walls of the castle. Many more were assigned to evacuating the women and children to the underground tunnels and to safety. It would be unpleasant, but as long as they stayed undiscovered, it would be far better than burning to death.

Timara placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he turned anxious eyes upon her. “It will work out. The people of Lenovia always recover, and they are a people that are designed to survive.” His brows furrowed, taken aback by the kindness in her eyes, and frowned.

“I am worried that our spirit will not be enough,” he declared quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “One dragon can decimate a city in an hour, there are whispers on the wind that six are on the way, in addition to the army of Shadow Walkers, which can infect our own soldiers.” One of Timara’s hands went to her curly ebony hair, trying to think of what to say.

“Then we shall fight to the end.” He searched her eyes, nodding solemnly. Not for pride, not for glory, but for his people would he die.

***

The powerful wings of the dragons cut through the air, and the city was in their sight. Lucius was leading, with the others following, creating an enormous arrow-shaped fleet that would soon rain death upon his enemies. This day would be a glorious one that will be recorded in the histories of dragon-kind. He would paint the capital in blood and smoke and flame. Lucius felt exhilarated. On this day, where his father had agreed to be placed in chains, he would finally have his revenge. This was the first great step in world domination. He would slaughter and enslave these people, and they would begin to pay for their crimes.

The dragons circled the great walls of Dragon’s Bane silently from above, the night hiding their arrival. They would rest tonight in order to be fresh for the coming battle. They followed their king beyond the city to the valley below to feast and rest. The next evening would end the reign of man and begin the reign of fire.

Concentrating, he sent out a thought to the others, ensuring them that after the next sunset, they would have their revenge for the last century of cowering in the mountains of Draconis.

“The descendant of King Antonin is mine.” And within the walls of the great palace, Javaron shivered, sensing the arrival of the true enemy. He knew that the coming battle would more than likely be his last.

“A man can only die once.” He said this thought aloud, and it brought comfort to him. He would not die a coward.

***

The armada cut silently through the waters as the sun crested the horizon, creating a beautiful sea of pink over the lands of Casparnia. Arietta and Gustoff were standing side by side on the bow of the lead ship next to the queen, and Nova, still in wolf form, was bathed in the morning sunlight.

Arietta squinted as the sun continued to brighten the morning sky. “This may be the most beautiful sunrise that I have ever seen.” She could just make out the tops of the buildings of Waterhaven. Though it had only been a few months since she had visited that city with Jerry and Grandpa Gus, it seemed that an eternity had passed. So much had changed.

Gustoff sighed as he noticed that there was not much activity in the city for even this early in the morning. “I fear that we are too late.”

The queen turned to the two, and in a regal voice she said, “We made this journey in record time, Gustoff. Your spell has kept the wind in our sails the entire journey. We will avenge all that have fallen to the abomination that you call the Dragon King. Lucius will kneel the day that fire meets ice.”

As they drew near the shores of Casparnia in the town of Waterhaven, they grew quiet, bearing witness to the decimation that was left by the Shadow Walkers. The buildings were beginning to show the effects of ill repair. The streets were littered with trash. There were no people in sight.

As the queen’s army filtered into the city from the ships, one thing became painfully clear. They would not be replenishing any of their supplies in Waterhaven. They spent the better part of the day unloading their vessels. Two hundred ships in all were docked along the shores of the city. The queen’s army was twenty thousand strong, with more ships scheduled to leave Faendell as soon as they were stocked with supplies.

“Tonight, we will camp here. Tomorrow, we make our way to the capital city to join the others and plan for war!” Her eyes shone bright with vengeance as she entered the royal tent to begin the plans for tomorrow’s trek. The bustle of soldiers setting up camp and organizing supplies continued late into the evening.

As Arietta and Gustoff finally were able to sit down to rest, Ari looked into the deep blue eyes of her grandfather and said, “What if Lucius is waiting for us at Aridol? If Arkas and Raulin are not able to make a weapon, what will we do?” She wrung her hands, and Nova rose, pushing her massive head under Arietta’s arm.

“Fear not, Ari. Arkas will not fail,” Gustoff said. “These are dark times, but remember that the night is darkest just before dawn. The Chosen will unite, and I know we will win.” He did his best to sound sure of himself, but if he was being totally honest, he was afraid of what the near future would bring. “Let’s try to get some rest, the next few days will be long.”

Arietta looked to the ground and began, “Grandpa, there is something that I haven’t…”

Gustoff frowned. “Honey, what is it?”

“You know how everyone keeps calling us the Chosen?” Gustoff nodded.

“What if we fail? The prophecy never had a resolution, it just spoke of people of great power fighting a great evil. Everyone who has known of our gifts has these expectations but I just… I’m not sure I can meet them. I’m not a hero, I’m just a girl swept up in a dream.” Arietta could not look her grandfather in the eye.

“People aren’t heroes because someone chooses them. They are heroes because of the choices they make. You could have stayed in the hospital, but you came back.” Gustoff smiled at Arietta.

“I came back because you needed my help.” Her eyes met the shimmering water, and the violent memory of the smell of charred flesh and smoke clogged her mind.

“Yeah, but you stayed, and you chose to go to Faendell.”

Arietta nodded and gave Gustoff a hug, burying her face deep in his robes.

***

Javaron, the King of Lenovia, stood in silence on the top of the highest tower of Dragon’s Bane, looking out over the city of Aridol that surrounded his keep as the sun eased its way beyond the western horizon. With the absence of sunlight came a darkness crawling with death. The last remnants of the sun disappeared from view, casting a beautiful blood-red horizon that would signal the beginning of the great battle of Dragon’s Bane. The protector of the Realm took one last look at his city, noticing the movement as soon as the sun had passed the horizon, bringing darkness to the land.

He turned to Alexandra, his trusted general. “What do you think that they have been waiting for?” Though the question was rhetorical, he would soon get his answer. Alexandra shook her head, and the two turned, heading for the war room to make final preparations for the defense of the castle.

The silence of the night was interrupted by a roar that seemed to shake the walls of stone that helped to fortify the castle. The ebony sky was lit up with a violent burst of the red and orange hues of flames, a signal to attack from Lucius and his fleet of dragons. The Shadow Walkers that had been passively gathering at the base of the castle over the last several days began throwing themselves at the shield created by the King’s greatest wizards. Sparks of white burst as evidence of their force, like sparklers in the night.

The Walkers fled from the expansive area that surrounded the front gate of the castle. Javaron turned to Alexandra. “The army is yours to command!”

She shouted to the men manning the outer walls, “Archers, nock! Crossbows ready!”

Instantly the first line of archers manning the walls placed arrows at the ready, picking their targets from the sea of enemy soldiers, many of whom were friends and family of the king’s soldiers. Six dragons hovered above the gap created by the departing Walkers and at once let loose flame so bright that it would blind anyone who didn’t avert their gaze. Fire spread over the energy field, lighting up its surface. The flame roared for what seemed like an eternity, though it was only a minute or two. After a moment of rest, the dragon fire returned to the shield.

Javaron tore down the stairs to the lower levels of Dragon’s Bane, sweat running freely from his brow. He found Brannan, the high liege of Casparnia, helping the last of the women and children into the tunnels.

Brannan turned to face the intruder that was running towards him in the dimly lit stairway, sword drawn and ready. Javaron turned the corner, seeing the business end of a sword waiting for him at the entrance to the tunnels.

“Brother, our time has run out. The enemy has begun the attack.” Javaron was out of breath as he delivered this news.

“Javaron, you must leave with the others to protect the Realm,” Brannan pleaded with the king.

“That was not what was discussed. You will take those who were not selected to stay. You will flee Aridol through the tunnels and be the leader that Palidonaya needs. We have no weapon to use against them. I am the king, and I will stay with my soldiers and fight.” Javaron clutched Brannon’s right elbow and pulled him into a hug.

“I am not the leader that you are. Let me stay and fight.” Tears streamed down Brannon’s face as he made one last attempt.

“There is greatness in you; people will follow you. I have chosen my path. I am still the King of Lenovia, and I have chosen you as my heir. This is my final command to you.” Javaron then turned and began climbing the stairs to the main floor of the castle, passing the remaining soldiers, who were handpicked to protect those leaving through the tunnels.

The energy field finally gave, the blast from the flames searing the castle walls, the gate smoldering from the heat. The Walkers charged forward and began scaling the simmering wall, hungry for flesh.

Alexandra’s voice boomed, “Loose!” and hundreds of arrows found their mark, slowing the pace of the Shadow Walkers, but not stopping their approach. The soldiers manning the crossbows began firing at will, aiming for the dragons that circled the castle. The few bolts that found their mark bounced harmlessly off the dragon scales and fell to the ground.

“Ready infantry!” Alexandra drew her sword, as did the soldiers stationed on the tops of the walls. “Go for the head and take no prisoners!” She turned to scan the horizon as Javaron approached and drew his sword.

Walkers cascaded over the tops of the walls, falling on the archers. They would not be adding to their army, for Lucius had commanded that all in Dragon’s Bane would die tonight. They had been ordered to fast for the past three nights; their bodies screamed for flesh, and the air was ripe with the smell of fear.

Javaron bellowed “For Aridol!” and charged, swinging his sword with reckless abandon. The Walkers, who were devouring what was left of the army, circled away from him, and he hacked desperately through the necks of what were once his people. He was heartbroken, and wasn’t sure when he had started to cry. Tears streamed from his eyes and disappeared into the forest that was his beard, giving him a crazed look as he continued his advance. There was no honor in this. From above, a roar split the night sky. The dragon flame cleansed the wall of soldiers that were manning the crossbows. The Walkers continued to gorge themselves on his army despite the many that fell to the sword.

Javaron looked onward, catching Alexandra’s wild eyes. The razor-sharp teeth of the Walkers flashed brighter than the sun, ripping, tearing, chewing and swallowing as they devoured her hands. Each of those long pretty fingers were bitten off as easily as one would bite into a carrot. He was sick then, vomiting off the balcony. A strong wind danced through his hair, and he turned on his heels to face it. His stomach twisted painfully again, watching the ebony beast land. Its wingspan was massive, its eyes holding death in them. It shifted, turning humanoid, but that terror associated with the massive beast only seemed to intensify, those fearsome deadly eyes still that same awful green hue. In his heart, Javaron knew he would die today.

Lucius approached the descendant of Antonin with a sneer on his face. Javaron shaking drew his sword and charged at the king, swinging to take off his head. Lucius calmly caught the sword in his hand, crushing the blade in his grip. The evil sneer etched into Lucius’s face slowly spread to a smile when he glanced down at the broken sword. The moonlight bounced off the shattered sword, and Javaron dropped to his knees. He refused to look at the vile creature that loomed over him, his shaggy hair obscuring his face.

“I guess you’ve won.” His voice was broken.

“I have waited a century for this day of retribution,” he said this quietly, the victory not as sweet with the man’s spirit already shattered, much like that useless sword that had likely never seen a day of battle. He drew back his arm and swung, clawing Javaron’s head from his body, sending it rolling along the battleground. He then dropped the lifeless form that had once ruled Lenovia and strode over to claim the prize. He smiled as his Walkers finished off the rest of the army that had tried to protect the castle. The night was long and gruesome, and the Walkers did exactly as they were asked. Not a single soul that had remained behind escaped that night. Many Walkers lay on the cobblestone roads, stomachs too swollen to move.

Lucius made his mark on the castle, collecting Javaron’s remains to hang on display for all to see. “Some king you were,” he spat, holding the head by its hair. He chuckled, humor gone from his voice. “Look at you now.” He felt a beast similar to pity twist in his heart, looking into those milky eyes and watching the lolling tongue. This man was supposed to be great, the leader above all leaders. Lucius knew now that his will was the greatest, that no man was better or more fearsome than he. He would not be confined to the mountains, and this was the taste of freedom! This is what it meant to truly live, cutting down those who had wronged you. He studied the face before throwing it to one of his subordinates. Hestia caught the head with an oof, and it thudded against her chest. She laughed, joy and pride dancing in her eyes, but once she caught his gaze, she knew he was not yet ready to celebrate. “As I ate the heart of the fox, so too shall I eat the heart of the man who shared murderous blood.” Though Javaron did not commit the crimes of his father before him, Lucius made certain that those crimes were paid for in full. The priests who had fought with them, the Walkers, the hunters, and the dragons all cried in celebration as he drug the headless, seeping body by the arm. He hauled it up the great staircase of Dragon’s Bane to look upon his people. “People of Draconis!” he roared, voice boosted by the acoustics of the castle. All activity stilled, and they turned to him. “My people, today is the day we celebrate!” A cry from the crowd boomed, and he continued on. “Together, we have taken down this continent’s greatest country. We took down its oppressive rule! Now, we feast and we wine, and most of all we celebrate the Dragon Kind!”

Chanting was in his ears and a song was in his heart as he planted his clawed hand deep into the chest of the headless corpse, an explosive splash of blood hitting his cheek as he ripped out its heart. Stringy blood and flesh clung to his hand, and he held that tiny heart in a clenched fist and examined it a moment. He buried his teeth into the raw meat, tearing, and the crowd erupted into cheers. He grinned with his chin dripping with blood, teeth stained red, and bloodlust flashing brightly in his eyes. His breath quivered with ecstasy. That was this wonderful feeling.

***

Thorundall walked with a purpose as he led Arkas and the others through the tunnels to the great forge. He walked quickly, for time was precious. He knew that his army would keep the dragon and its hunters at bay to the last man if necessary, but that may not offer them the time that they needed to complete the ritual and forge the blade. The dwarven priestesses would be in place by now, with the forge lit and the iron melting. The crystal was being hollowed out with the final preparations in place.

The chamber was lit by fire, the intense heat battering their faces as they entered. The ceiling was low at the outer wall, causing all but the dwarves to stoop as they entered, though the ceiling sloped upward toward the center of the room where the hot air was vented and oxygen allowed to help fuel the fire. The room was dark, with an orange glow emanating from the molten iron that would soon become the weapon that was so desperately needed. Seven dwarven priestesses were evenly spaced around the smelting pot. A heavily muscled dwarf worked the forge that seared the metal to its liquid form. He had a protective leather apron covering most of his chest, with thick gloves and a mask that protected his face from the intense heat. There was a steady deep hum in a language that none entering could speak.

Arkas took in the room as he crossed the threshold to the chamber. A language that had not graced a human’s ears in over a century echoed throughout the room. He was almost overcome with emotion as the last of his group entered, with Dimitri followed by Raulin, who walked with his head held high. He pranced, every connection of his hoof to the ground filled with pride, along the circumference of the room, knowing that these were the last living beings that he would see with his physical eyes. Though he was afraid of what lay ahead, he trusted that his sacrifice would lift his people out of the dark shadow that Lucius had cast over the lands of Palidonaya.

An ancient dwarf with a flowing white beard hobbled into the chamber with what appeared to be a crystal made into the pommel of a sword, a needle-thin point protruding from the handle. He made his way to a stone table, laying the pommel into a groove cut in the center of the stone. The groove fit the crystal perfectly, and at the top of the stone table was a basin.

Raulin made his way to the head of the table and, in the powerful voice of a king, said, “What I do now, I do of my own free will. Let a weapon be forged that will lead our people to victory so that my sacrifice will live on in the hearts of all the peoples of Palidonaya.” There was no fear in his heart, no hesitation, only determination filling his being. He had expected a great many more years to rule; however, knowing he died a servant to his people gave him purpose.

One of the priestesses approached Raulin and began chanting, the volume increasing as her speech progressed. Raulin lowered his head as the priestess removed his mighty horn with one flick of the wrist. Deep in his throat, Raulin grunted, closing his eyes and tipping his head. He slouched into the white-hot table, unable to stand on his own. The horn was placed in the melting pot, adding its magic to the steel that would become the blade that would be known to all as Raulin’s Oath. With his horn removed, the blood flowed freely from Raulin, gathering in the basin. Dimitri snorted, wanting to look away as his father’s blood was spilled, but he knew, to honor his father, he must watch. He owed his father, more importantly his king, the respect of watching the ceremony to the end. The chanting grew in volume and Raulin’s sacred blood illuminated the basin. Slowly, the crimson liquid followed the channel cut into the stone, filling the hollow crystal.

Arkas stood mesmerized by the scene. He was sad to lose a friend, but simultaneously, the cold fascination of a magician’s curiosity numbed his pain. The chant reminded him of a nursery song, something sweetly familiar in the priestesses’ cries. Their voices blended to a crescendo, and two more muscled dwarves lifted the melting pot. The great stone vat was held over the table, and all in the room fell to their knees, prayers echoing in the chamber. The liquid was carefully poured into the groove surrounding the blood-filled crystal. The seven stood swaying from side to side in unison. Energy, bright and powerful, stirred in the room, and the last of the metal was emptied onto the table. The two returned the melting pot to its original position, then moved to the outer edge of the chamber. In a bright flash, the chamber was filled with white light. Raulin’s lifeless body slipped from the table, and with a loud crack, the table split in two The sword remained, suspended above the table. Thorundall strode to it and grasped the sword in his right hand, lifting it high above his head. “I give you Raulin’s Oath!”

He turned to Arkas and handed him the weapon. Raulin’s Oath was surprisingly light, though Arkas could detect great power within the blade. “With this momentous sacrifice comes a gift that in life Raulin could not give to his people. The gift of hope.”

Epilogue

Present Day

The grasses at the cemetery swayed in the gentle breeze. The old oak trees planted in the resting ground wove their roots around the gravestones, many of which were too old to decipher the names that had been etched on them so many years ago. Some had toppled over and moved away from the graves to which they were assigned.

The white lilies that Arietta clutched quivered in the wind, and though her heart was heavy, a smile shone on her face. It was his birthday, and she always brought him flowers to remind him that she loved him and that she hadn’t forgotten him. Two rows down, three stones across, lay her grandfather in his eternal slumber. She knew he wasn’t really there, that his soul had moved on, but this was his last tie to earth. Hallowed ground.

“Hi, Grandpa,” she said softly, laying her flowers at the head of his spot. She lowered herself to her knees, resting her head against the gravestones. “They’re back, but I’m big now. I’m stronger and smarter than I was before. Still just as terrified, but we can only ask for so much improvement, right?” She laughed, shaking her head. “I never stopped missing you. It never stopped hurting.” She closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her cheeks and make her feel sleepy. “I’m all alone. I hope that when it is my time, I’ll find you again.” Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and her lungs weighed with grief. The gravestone was warm and coarse under the sun, but it wasn’t comforting. Her phone chirped at her, and she was pleased to see one of her sons had called her.

“Hey, Mom,” the boy--man now--said tenderly.

“Hi, baby.” She tried to sound like she wasn’t crying. A heavy sigh sounded from the other end of the line.

“I just wanted to check in on you and ask you something.” What did he want? She should’ve known he didn’t simply call to talk to her. He never just called.

“What is it, honey?”

“There have been some… suspect… gentlemen poking around down here, asking about you. Are you okay?”

That turned her blood to ice.

“Whatever you do, don’t let them near you or your family. They are bad business, and I don’t know what they want from me. I’ve had my house broken into, I’ve been followed… just be safe.”

“Mom? Why didn’t you call us?” A long stretch of silence ensued after the innocent question, and her son swallowed heavily on the other side of the line.

“I didn’t want to be a bother. Stay safe, okay?”

“Okay, you stay safe too. If you need, you can stay down here with Sarah and me.” It was an empty promise and she knew it, but she smiled and told him she would think about it. She traced a hand over the top of her grandfather’s headstone and said her goodbyes.

Arietta clinched her hands into fists, anger boiling to the surface. The sharks were circling, looking for a weapon, and they thought either she had it, or someone in her family did. She couldn’t face this alone anymore. It was time to call an old friend.