The Ashenborn Page 2

  Derrick nodded, “Precisely.”

  Zarx shook his head. “So, the implication is great in that case. I had always wondered where your abilities truly came from. I had guessed it was from books or incantations.”

  “Books are for knowledge. Spells are for darker beings than you or I,” Derrick replied.

  Zarx tilted his head, considering what that meant.

  “There, however, is an issue. When the Ashenstones kindle, there are those who often follow like moths to flame,” Derrick said.

  “Who are those that follow?” Zarx asked.

  Derrick shook his head, unsure of himself.

  “Again, there is not enough proof just yet to give an answer. I am an old man, bound by old wives’ tales and ancient stories.” He laughed.

  Alanias approached the window overlooking the kingdom and looked out.

  “I do not want to take Hroth’s claim lightly, nor do I foresee it to be too troublesome or something that cannot be dealt with. It is still worth my time to discover for myself,” Derrick said.

  “Better to see it for ourselves than to be bothered by more of Hroth’s scrolls,” Zarx confirmed.

  Alanias pursed his lips, then spoke.

  “Derrick, I would like you to appease Hroth by going and satisfying whatever question you have about how the stones may be connected to this incident,” Alanias said. “At least it would be a good step forward, even if there is nothing to be concerned about.”

  Derrick agreed. “It could very well be nothing. But if it is something, we have more to lose by not going.”

  “Indeed,” Alanias said. “I will send you with twenty men to investigate.” Alanias paused. “You do need men, correct?”

  Elder Derrick let a short chuckle escape him.

  “You flatter me, King. You think me a god, do you?”

  Alanias laughed vigorously. “Humbleness, my friend, your best attribute. Ten men I will provide; any more and you might appear that you need it.”

  Zarx grinned.

  “I will prepare men for the journey. What would you have me do, my king?” Zarx said, enjoying the exchange and looking forward to the excitement of a journey.

  “I would like you to focus on guarding the Ashentemple while Derrick is away. And continue securing the kingdom for the coming Ashenborn Festivities.”

  Zarx looked disappointed as he dutifully bowed and left the room, after strapping on his sword, with a customary salutation. With the sound of retreating footsteps, they knew he was gone.

  “Peacetime is boring to a general, I hear.” Alanias sighed and shrugged, his gaze following the direction Zarx had taken.

  Elder Derrick shifted uncomfortably.

  “I have a question for you as well, King,” Derrick said hesitantly.

  Alanias raised a brow. “Oh? You wished to wait until Zarx left?”

  “Yes,” Derrick said. “It has come to my attention your sons have come of age. Will they participate in the Ashen?”

  Alanias smiled. You don’t have to worry about discussing things with me. Why the interest?”

  “If the fragments are active, and the Ashenborn give me the rite of Bright Flame, your sons would be the most qualified to become Ashenborn,” Derrick said.

  Alanias smiled with pride. “They would most certainly be honored to, but let’s watch them in the tournament and decide from their moral choices. I want the best for them always.”

  “I apologize for not bringing it up around Zarx, but I know he has distaste for magic. He would surely argue such things.”

  Alanias sobered for a moment.

  “He hates magic because of what happened to many in past battles. All could hate swords for the very same reason. He means well. I can relate to his reasoning.”

  Derrick accepted this reasoning and bowed. “The loss of the queen will never be forgotten.”

  Alanias looked somber for a moment, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

  Then he smiled, dismissing his sadness. “She will never be forgotten. We will speak more on this soon. Send word to me when you have come to a conclusion.”

  Derrick bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  “And Derrick …”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  Elder Derrick bowed and left the room. Looking back, he saw Alanias move back to the window with a look Derrick took as sorrowful.

  The splendor of the mountain astounded Selaphiel. The kingdom below looked like a white blur, barely visible even if he tried to squint or strain his vision. Selaphiel was the middle brother and tallest of the three. He had been adopted as an infant by Alanias, the king of Lifesveil. His tawny eyes scanned the dense foliage of the forest. His brothers, Jakobin and Cordoc, had traveled ahead of him, but he had detoured to the clearing.

  He wanted to kick himself for always sightseeing instead of sticking to the path. He shrugged and pushed back his brown hair, which was stuck to his forehead with sweat. He wore leather hunting armor, with a blade of steel strapped to his side and a small bow on his shoulder. Selaphiel looked at the great mountain ahead of him and caught a glimpse of platforms made of what seemed to be starlight. These platforms wrapped around the top plateau of the mountain. The Light Prison, he thought. The result of a war before his time, the structure still served as a prison for war criminals and the most deranged atrocities of society.

  It also held unspeakable power and a glow that Selaphiel often noticed from his chambers in the castle. Selaphiel rubbed the familiar golden claw hanging from a chain around his neck. Being a prince had its privileges, though he felt unworthy of them. Alanias often assured him otherwise, something he was thankful for. With a huff he ran back toward the forest, trying to catch his brothers. Within moments he was back in company with his eldest brother.

  “Sightseeing again, Brother?” Cordoc said, half-amused. Cordoc was the most agile of the three brothers. His blinding blonde hair matched his bright blue eyes. His jaw was strong and set, and he was considered by most to have a serious aspect to him, but Selaphiel knew otherwise. Cordoc was strong like Selaphiel, but humorously the shortest brother, often a topic of joking between the three. “A birthright is not measured in two or three inches,” was a frequent saying from the heir to the others.

  “Yeah,” Selaphiel said elongating the word. “Seeing sights,” he said.

  Cordoc flashed a smile.

  “Where is Jakobin?” Selaphiel said as they passed into the shadow of a group of trees.

  Cordoc rolled his eyes. “Sightseeing maybe?”

  Selaphiel fake-laughed, “Funny.”

  “He went ahead, so I’ve been enjoying the sounds of the forest,” Cordoc continued.

  Selaphiel stooped mid-step and grabbed an object from the ground, which was old and rusted, revealing age. Upon further analysis, he realized it was the rusted metal head of an arrow.

  “Perhaps remnants of a battle fought here?” he said.

  “Or someone hunting,” Cordoc suggested, adding, “Be careful not to let that cut you.”

  Selaphiel shrugged and tossed the arrowhead into the brush, uninterested.

  “I saw the Light Prison on the overhang. We are close.”

  The sun had begun to slant through the forest. A reddish-gold hue painted the trees, surrounded by splashes of dark purples and blues.

  “It’s getting late,” Selaphiel noticed. Cordoc nodded. The prison’s keep came into view. It stood starkly against the sun, a looming giant overlooking the kingdom, which lay beneath its shadow.

  “We are here … finally,” Cordoc said with a sigh.

  The keep stood at an enormous height on the mountain face. The glow of the prison made the formidable walls look dull, as though the glowing prison were sucking the life from it. A guard patrolling the walls called down to them. They held up their crests, which
glistened with flecks of gold, and in response the door opened with a muffled thud. Side by side they entered the door and as quickly as it had opened, it closed behind them with a loud thump. After passing through a second gate, the brothers could see the path to the prison winding upward on a staircase of old worn steps.

  “Here we go again; we will have legs of steel,” Cordoc complained.

  Selaphiel smirked. “We should reach the top by the time the sun sets,” he said, pointing to the lowering sun.

  “No doubt Jakobin is already on this mountain,” Cordoc said bitterly. “Always impatient …”

  “You sound like Father,” Selaphiel said.

  “I know the both of you enjoy beating me in a footrace, but I will have my day soon enough,” Cordoc said as a cold breeze cut through their clothes.

  “Shivering in fear, Brother,” Selaphiel jested. The sun began to sink, the sky’s wispy clouds reflecting the orange and red of sunset.

  “Father was kind to let us venture from the castle to give us a break from studies,” Selaphiel said, grateful to be outside.

  “And for such an honor as this,” Cordoc said, also happy to not be cooped up in the royal dwellings.

  They reached the top to find their brother Jakobin already there, looking quite pleased with himself. Jakobin had blue eyes and blond hair identical to Cordoc’s, but he had a narrower jaw. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and was stronger than both of his brothers. The only similarity shared between Jakobin and Selaphiel was their height. Jakobin sat in his crimson tunic, a regal designation he favored.

  “A myth moves faster than you two,” he snorted, standing up dramatically, as if he had been there for hours. The spot where he had chosen to sit was beside the third gate, which entered the ledge of the prison. This was the only entrance that could be reached on foot, for the prison hung off the side of the mountain.

  “Have you ever thought that the Light Prison needed more gates?” Jakobin quipped.

  Daemos, the guard of the watch, appeared on the other side of the gate. He was muscular, with thick shoulders. His brown hair was tinged with gray.

  “Princes of Lifesveil,” he said in a northern accent. He bowed, his eyes remaining downcast until permitted to rise. “I have requested that more gates be built at the king’s convenience,” he said, having heard Jakobin’s comment.

  Cordoc motioned for him to stand.

  Daemos’ face brightened, and he flashed an overly white set of teeth and opened the gate. “Welcome,” he said. “We are honored by your presence.”

  “The pleasure is ours, old friend,” Cordoc said kindly.

  “Old?” Daemos said. “Well, maybe,” he laughed.

  The four men turned and gazed at the structure before them.

  The greenish-golden glow of the prison encompassed the whole ridge. There were six platforms total. The prisoners were held in orbs on a platform, each of which was large enough to fit multiple inhabitants. Chains of light held the platforms in place on the side of the mountain.

  “It is always an amazing sight,” Jakobin said.

  Cordoc agreed. “The last remnants of the great war,” he said in awe.

  Selaphiel gazed at the dark shadows of the prisoners in the orbs. The shadows moved to and fro, but gradually Selaphiel became aware of the inhabitants turning to watch him, sending a shiver through him. Their features were hidden in the cloak of darkness within the cells.

  Daemos looked at the prisons with less awe and more familiarity. He turned and locked the gate behind him. There were two guards assigned to each gate. The night had finally arrived, and now they could clearly see constellations shining above the prison.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of being visited by my princes and my friends?” Daemos said.

  “We have something to give you. We thought it would be better to come in person for such a degree of recognition,” Cordoc said.

  “Captain Daemos,” Cordoc said, gesturing to Selaphiel, who removed a cloth-covered object from his cloak.

  “We are here to present you with this. An honor that is to be cherished, since you have been nothing but family to my brothers and me.”

  “Father agreed with our decision. He knows you are not a fan of flashy honors, and so he allowed us to be the ones to present you with this,” Selaphiel said.

  He removed the cloth, revealing a dragon-inscribed, pearl-handled dagger. The details were masterfully carved, each line delicate but also stark enough to see the overall design.

  “Alanias, our father, has taken note of who you are, and he wishes you to serve him directly, second only to General Zarx of his armies,” Cordoc continued.

  Captain Daemos reached out with trembling fingers to grasp the dagger. “King Alanias blesses me with more than I deserve,” Daemos stuttered.

  “It is only fitting that our father wishes you to serve under General Zarx. You are like no one else. You are truly worthy of this,” Jakobin said.

  “This is only an invitation, but once you accept you will be initiated into the King’s Guard, third in command,” Selaphiel said, smiling.

  Tears swelled in Daemos’ eyes.

  “Captain Daemos, former captain of the Light Prison, and White Dragon of King Alanias,” he said in awe, tying the dagger to his side and bowing. The designation of White Dragon was only given to the strongest and most courageous of Lifesveils’ men and women. The White Dragons specifically guarded the king, and to be leader over them was a high honor.

  “Thank you, my princes.”

  Selaphiel hugged him. “You are family.”

  “To be a White Dragon is the highest honor any could receive from Alanias. It is what I have worked for,” Daemos said, wiping his eyes.

  “It is well-deserved,” Cordoc paused, adding, “You have shown nothing but respect and honor to our father, and to us as well.”

  Daemos looked at the dagger with pride.

  “Thank you.”

  The wind began to swirl around them, a sudden gust sending dust and debris whirling in front of them.

  “Attention, men,” Daemos said, composing himself. “Elder Derrick is approaching.”

  A gray-brown form began to descend toward the prison. The form was massive, with giant topaz colored wings. The large mass appeared as living mineral, large and angular. It had boulder-sized scales, which glistened as if wet. Its massive yellow eyes glowed eerily in the darkened sky. The men of the prison stood at attention, swords raised.

  Cordoc and his brothers smiled. The dragon landed heavily on the platform, folding its membraned wings as the prison shuddered under his weight. The sleek and serrated neck turned, and the dragon laughed with a deep rumbling sound.

  “I did not expect to find you here,” the dragon thundered, its face aged and wise, with a frightening array of teeth that could easily snap a tree like a small twig. It folded its wings and stretched its long claws.

  “We were presenting Daemos with a white dagger,” Selaphiel said, stepping forward. “Father wishes him to be a member of his personal guard.”

  The dragon raised a curious brow, and a mirthful look came upon his face.

  “Daemos is most worthy of this honor. I am pleased to hear it.” The dragon bowed its head, and despite its bowing came nowhere close to their eye level.

  Daemos smiled and looked pleased to have received congratulations from a dragon.

  The dragon looked around, snorting with pleasure at seeing the men at attention.

  “The honor is great, Daemos, but your men need not be bothered. I am here simply to check the fortification of the prison.”

  With a burst of light, the massive outline of the dragon began to shrink and finally folded into the familiar shape of an old man.

  Daemos waved the men away, and they returned to their duties.

  “Elder Derrick, you are a sight
to behold.”

  “One never truly gets tired of flying,” he smiled, stretching his shoulders.

  “It is good that I have found you three as your father wishes to speak with you. I imagine he has sent word to you of returning to the kingdom for his advisement.”

  Jakobin rolled his eyes. “Father and his advisements,” he said sarcastically.

  Derrick narrowed his eyes before turning to the others.

  “He has important words to discuss with you; I am sure the content is secret.”

  Derrick turned from the brothers, then placed his hands on the prison walls and closed his eyes, repeating the motion several times as he walked along the platforms.

  “Forgive me if I am being nosey,” Selaphiel paused, then asked, “But what do you do when you do that?”

  Derrick snapped his eyes open after a moment.

  “Your curious nature never bothers me, Selaphiel. This may not make sense to you, but I can feel the power of the prison. It is a constant feeling, much like placing your hands into a flowing river. You feel the current and the power of the water pushing downstream. That’s how the power of this prison feels to me. It has never failed, but there are recent rumors that make me especially cautious. I am being sure of the prison’s security because I will be leaving on an errand soon.”

  He walked over to a nearby wall and ran his fingers along it, his touch making the prison spark.

  “The defenses are sufficient,” he pronounced.

  Derrick turned to Daemos.

  “Be ever vigilant. My absence will not go unnoticed. You should not have to worry, though.”

  Daemos bowed with his fist to his chest, replying, “As always, Ashen-Elder. It will remain secure.”

  Derrick turned back to the three princes.

  “I shall return soon. Within a day or so. I apologize for my quickness to leave, but there is much to do. May each of your flames burn bright, and may they warm all who see them.”

  The brothers bowed in return.

  “As well to you,” Selaphiel said, echoing the elder’s sentiment.

  “Good journey to you,” Cordoc said.

  They each covered their eyes, in preparation for the change from man to dragon.