Raulin's Oath

The quartet approached the Keep on wary feet, moving like shadows across the dunes of sand. Arkas drew in a sharp breath, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t even begin to explain the sense of joy and accomplishment he felt at seeing the house.

“Quickly now; I do not suspect that we have much time left.” He placed a shaking hand on the small of Jerry’s back, hustling him along. Finally, they reached the doorstep, anticipation thrumming through their beings. There was a distinct power pulsing through the Keep, which sent shivers along Arkas’ spine.

He knocked thrice, holding his breath, trying not to dwell on his wrinkled old hands. The last time he had been here, his hands had been tight and smooth, the signs of age not showing as pronounced as they were now. A shaky voice called for the quartet to come in, the door swinging open at the knocks. The smell of dust, old books, and firewood graced his nose upon entering, and he noted the dim lighting. While on the outside of the Keep it appeared to be small, it was astonishing how large its innards truly were. There was a ticking coming from all around them, multiple clocks chiming at different hours, and rows upon rows of bookshelves were in his sight. In the middle of it all sat an enormous tortoise, his eyes closed behind circular wire-rimmed frames, moss growing on his large shell. All around the tortoise, floating in the air, were several pens scribbling on many scrolls.

“Um, excuse me, sir?” Arietta’s honey-sweet voice cut through the sound of dozens of scribbling pens, hard at work. The pens simultaneously crashed to the floor, the papers drifting into a neat pile. The great tortoise slowly raised his head until his gaze locked on Arietta.

“Who enters the Hall of Records, and what is it that you seek?” Wisdom was in the tortoise’s voice, as was aggravation. The travelers approached with caution, and the tortoise raised his hands; the pens lifted while the papers slid back into place.

“Horace, it is good to see you again. How are you?” Arkas said kindly, and the tortoise, to the children’s surprise, sighed wearily.

“Wizard, you look familiar.” Horace’s glasses shifted as he examined the old man. “Though you were much younger when we last met. I ask one last time, what do you seek from the Record Keeper?” Another clock chimed, and Horace looked over his wire-rimmed frames at the nearest clock, eyes squinting in concern. Nova traced a finger down one of the books of an older breed, then examined her finger tip, rubbing her pointer and thumb together to brush off the dust.

Arkas said, “I come with the three Chosen warriors of the prophecy.”

A harsh chuckle erupted from the old creature’s beak.

“The prophecy of which you speak is one of muddled truth, though before my eyes stand four beings of great power,” the tortoise replied.

“Muddled truth? Is Palidonaya at risk of losing to the darkness?” An icy fear had overtaken Arkas at the words of the Keeper. If they could not believe in the prophecy, in the idea that light always overcame darkness, then what else could they believe in?

“I know not of what lies ahead. I merely know the heart of the prophet who gave us these words. Worry not, wizard, you will find your way.” Horace looked at each of the visitors as he spoke.

The children glanced to each other in silence. Then Arietta said, “Excuse me, sir, my name is Arietta, and I don’t know much about prophecies. I do know that my grandfather has been taken by the Dragon King. I need to know how to kill a dragon. If you tell us, then we will be on our way.”

“Interesting. Of all the questions that could be asked, you choose what is already known by the Dwarven King.” Horace shook his head, moving quite slowly toward one of the bookshelves.

Arkas then said, “Horace, Palidonaya is running out of time. We have come a long way and must return to Lenovia with this knowledge.”

Horace sighed at this comment, interrupting swiftly. He then moved to the nearest of the bookshelves and extracted a golden hardback with yellowing pages.

“I’ve kept the records for all time. To defeat a dragon in combat is very difficult, but not impossible. You will need a powerful weapon, wielded by a skilled warrior.” Horace, taking his time, turned the pages, scanning one before turning to the next.

“The Dragon King has already taken most of Palidonaya. There are rumors of a nest with thousands of eggs nearing maturity. We must hurry or all will be lost.” Arkas was losing patience, and Horace clicked his beak, looking pointedly over his shell.

“Patience, all is not lost. You still have the time that you require.” Horace then motioned to another book that was on the top shelf as he moved toward a gold-plated ladder.

“Here, let me help you.” Nova stepped beside Horace, helping him reach the book he was looking for, to prevent the tortoise from having to climb one of the many ladders. He thanked Nova, then used his beak to flip through the pages.

“You have that which you need awaiting you in Lenovia.” He tilted his head, adjusting the glasses, and used one of his feet to keep his place.

“We do?” Jerry’s eyebrows raised.

Horace continued, “Yes, a sacrifice must be made by a pure-born soul of royal lineage from the land of Equus.”

“Less riddles, more words that make sense. What do you mean by that?” Jerry pushed as Horace crept back towards his chair.

“What you ask carries with it a great cost.” His voice shook with his age, and Arkas’ hands began to tremble. Was that great act of treachery worth it all? To spill a blood so pure would unleash terrible magic. This sacrifice surely meant eternal damnation. Horace laughed, a deep and throaty sound. “This sacrifice must be made willingly for the weapon to be forged.” Arkas’ eyes turned to the floor, unwilling to look into the tortoise’s.

“We will do what is necessary, but I pray that there is another way. We could capture the king and force the dragons to surrender?” Arkas thought this all out loud, and the kids listened carefully, yet Horace closed his eyes and shook his head. “Maybe--oof!” Arkas fell through the floor of the Keep, and the building disappeared. Jerry let loose a cry of surprise as he fell through, onto the sand, and Nova looked purely befuddled. “The Keep moves automatically after an allotted time to a random location. All but the turtle and his dusty old books get kicked out right before the Keep moves,” Arkas said bitterly. “We’re lucky we got the information in time with the way that old bag talks.” Nova nodded in agreement.

“He said we have to sacrifice someone from Equus. We can’t sacrifice one of our own; there has to be another way,” Arietta exclaimed, folding her arms. Jerry put a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her, but the sly look on Nova’s face caused him to rip his hand off her and stuff it into his pocket. Arietta glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, curious about the action, but shrugged it off. She had too much to worry about to question her companions.

“I…” Arkas’ eyes dropped to the sand. This was bad. “I’m not sure. We need to seek the Council’s guidance. Let’s pray that we are not too late. If the dragons have moved on Dragon’s Bane, then the Council’s forces will be scattered,” he suggested. Nova perked up at this.

“That’s amazing! Here I was thinking it was us versus the world, but no. There’s an entire Council with forces! Beautiful. Well, we may have a fighting chance now.” A wide grin spread across her face, and to the surprise of the quartet, where there were once human ears, large white wolf ears sprouted. “Little too excited, isn’t that funny,” she remarked offhandedly, tugging lightly on one of the ears. It felt soft on her hand, and she had to admit it was quite nice. “So, tell me more about the Record Keeper,” she prompted, feeling a little self-conscious of the attention on her ears and wishing to redirect it elsewhere.

“He is one of the immortals that is tasked to keep track of all of the histories. All records are unbiased, all histories filed without error. You can find the answers to everything if you have the time to search through all the books. It is said that all worlds have a Record Keeper,” Arkas replied.

“Do you think that Earth has a Record Keeper?” Arietta was intrigued with the notion.

“Yes, Gustoff assumed they would’ve been located in the Library of Alexandria,” Arkas said dismissively, but at this bit of information, Jerry gaped.

“That is…” He grew starry-eyed. “That is the coolest thing you’ve ever said. How do you find the Keep? Do you think that it moves like the one here?”

Arietta chuckled lightly, Nova chortling along with her.

“I am not certain. I have only visited Palidonaya’s Keep.”

“I would definitely like to find it, assuming it isn’t gone.” His tone turned morose. Arietta looped an arm around his, a small smile on her face, causing Jerry to inhale sharply a moment before relaxing.

“If it contains all of the history, think about how much different the world would be.” Those starry eyes of Jerry’s turned to her.

“If mankind truly found it, they would destroy it. The violence of man is incomparable to any other species,” Nova interrupted, her voice worn.

“What about the dragons?” Arietta asked carefully, concern flashing in her eyes a moment. Nova shook her head.

“Dragons don’t drop nuclear bombs on cities. We have polluted our planet, killed millions of people in wars. If mankind found a Hall of Records, it would be destroyed,” Nova retorted.

“Come on, Nova, that’s not all, we have also done great things. Yes, we take and corrupt, but we give too. Life has a balance; humankind is no exception to that rule.”

Nova shook her head, as if to clear it, and refocused on Arietta. She looked the blonde dead in the eyes to ground herself, seeming to return to her form.

“I suppose you’re right.” Nova laughed uneasily, and the group shifted.

“So, how are we getting out of this sand pit, Arkas?” Jerry leaned into Ari, getting her to break eye contact with the other girl.

“First, we sleep. Next, we go due east for about twelve barjinks, then north until sundown. We’ve had a long day, so a full night’s rest is well deserved, I’d say.” Arietta’s face spread into a grin, as did Jerry’s, and a closed-mouth smile came from Nova. Sleep not only was desperately needed, but terribly wanted as well. After bedding down, Nova sighed.

“Man, I can’t wait to get out of this off-brand Tatooine.” She closed her eyes, relishing in the warm sheets.

“You insult Tatooine by comparing this hellhole to it,” Jerry snapped back, and the three kids laughed.

“I don’t know what crazy moon language you all are talking in, but you better shut your traps. We have the gift of a full night’s sleep, and I’m not about to be kept awake by your nonsense.” There was a rustling of blankets as the quartet got comfortable, and light snoring was all to be heard from the hut by the ocean.

***

Far in the north, an unyielding cold swept through bustling mountains, and a queen claimed a throne unwillingly. The bitter cold nipped at her neck, yet she embraced it. The crystalline palace was flooded with her people, and her icy-blue eyes skipped over the crowd. She took a deep breath. She could do this; she didn’t need anyone else. She knew that her parents shouldn’t have made the voyage; now their names were just on the long list of casualties from the war, but their deaths would not be in vain. She would protect her people, something that they had not been able to do.