Chapter Twenty-Three: Dragon Lord

Ash opened his eyes, the luminous white flames dying around him like the fading embers in a fire pit. He stood in a large cavern of dark stone. Is this a cave? Ash thought, looking around. This didn’t look like a man-made room. There was no breeze in the room, but it smelled old, not unlike a graveyard, but with an edge, a depth he couldn’t identify.

Gems-lined alcoves set into the walls, sending cascading multicolored light around the cavern. Shadows loomed where the light touched.

Before him were steps that led downward into a substantial oval dip as if someone had perfectly carved into the stone.

It was littered with giant bones that jutted out like great tree limbs that had fallen in the forest. A vast, angular skull with horns curling from it rested in the middle.

“Once, she was one of the great dragons, Adomyra. Loosely translated, the name means ‘brightness.’”

Amalia suddenly appeared, walking forward. She laid a hand against the skull, and Ash’s jaw dropped. Amalia looked…sad. She was showing real, genuine emotion!

“What is this place? Was that a dream I just had? What is going on, Amalia!”

She didn’t answer at first but turned to face him moments later.

“I can’t tell you everything, Ash, no, please listen,” she held up a hand.

Did…she say please? Ash snapped his mouth closed as the thought echoed in his head.

“My condition still stands to a degree. You will need to reach bronze rank. Some oaths bind me, and I must honor them.”

Ash frowned at her, crossing his arms,

“Why don’t you just say that? Do you know how much frustration it would have saved us if you had, you know, acted like a reasonable person?”

“I’m not in the habit of explaining myself, Master Lorcan. I am only doing so now because it is safe to do so. Before I explain anything, I must insist that you agree to repeat nothing about what is said here. Anything I reveal here, anything at all, you must not, under any circumstances, tell anyone.”

“Why the need?”

Amalia shook her head,

“You must swear it, or I will not tell you anything, and what I can share is limited even with your oath.”

Ash sucked in a slow breath, letting it out in a steady stream. Here he was, about to get some answers, and those answers still had conditions. Like with everything else, he had little choice but to agree. He felt like a cornered rat with no options.

For a moment he thought about saying no. Walking away from it all, so that he could have a semblance of control. It was a brief feeling.

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“Fine. You win again, Amalia. I so swear.”

She nodded, her grip relaxing on her staff.

“You asked where we are. This is Adomyra’s and her mate’s nest. It was here that the dragon lords kept dragon eggs. The night Drakosia was burned to the ground, Adomyra and her dragon lord gave their lives to seal this place in a num’ensura or a separate world you might call it. They locked it behind a seal that would test any future dragon lords that attempted to get in.”

Ash blinked, uncrossing his arms he stared at her,

“Are you saying?”

Amalia nodded,

“I am. You, Ash Lorcan, are a dragon lord.”

Ash sat down, wrapping his hands around his knees.

“What does that even mean? How? I’m human, look!” He thrust out his arm toward Amalia.

“No, I’m afraid you are not. Not in the way you are thinking.”

Ash bowed his head.

He wasn’t human.

He had never known his parents and had always been told they had died in a horrible accident. Was that even true?

“My parents. Did you know them?”

Amalia hesitated,

“I cannot say. That is not knowledge I can reveal just yet.”

“What can you tell me?” Ash said, not even attempting to keep the bitter cold from his voice.

Amalia twisted her staff, and the end of it was digging into the stone.

“Dragon lords cannot access their elar without a dragon. I’ve told you that much. Dragon and lord are inseparable partners, with a nearly indescribable bond.”

Amalia looked at the great bone dragon head,

“They were protectors, defenders against the shadow. They fought monsters, and soared the skies on dragon back. They built Drakosia, a great city that welcomed and defended everyone.”

Amalia looked up, her eyes distant.

“It was the greatest ideal your mortal cities could strive for. People respected everyone, even if they weren’t always kind, and all religions were permitted to be practiced, so long as they did not seek to harm anyone. Fairness was strived for, and there was a connection here, to the land, to each other.”

Amalia bowed her head before sighing.

“Drakosia burned brightly, but its flame was snuffed out by darkness. Dragon lords were slaughtered that night, betrayed and torn apart by shadow. But somehow, one survived,” Amalia set her gaze on him.

“You. You, Ash Lorcan, can be a blade of light against the shadow. The sun shining bright in the dark of night.”

Ash shook his head against his knees.

“How? I need a dragon. I don’t see one around here.”

Amalia laughed, gesturing.

“Look closely, Master Lorcan.”

He did.

The gem stones were not gems at all.

They were dragon eggs.

Amalia smiled widely, eyes gleaming.

“Now all you must do is allow one to choose you. Come, Ash Lorcan. It is time for you to embrace who you are.”

___________

Ash stood before a red dragon egg. It was beautiful. Each individual scale looked like it was meticulously carved into a large, oval ruby. Every shade of red swirled, pulsing from it like a heartbeat.

“Place your palm upon it,” Amalia said.

He reached out, placing his hand upon the egg. Warmth spread through his fingers, then a tide of searing heat, that caused Ash to jerk his hand back, shaking it. He looked down at his hand, searching for the burns that were surely there.

He found none.

“A rejection. Not unexpected. Try another.”

In its own alcove, a green egg sat. Much like the ruby egg, this one was emerald. Instead of a feeling of heat, he felt like he was sinking his hand into soft earth.

Suddenly, it hardened, and a jagged spike of rock pierced his hand.

He cried out, pulling his hand back, eyes wide.

No hole was gaping in his hand. He was fine.

One by one he tried each egg, each one evoking a feeling from nature.

Each rejecting him one after the other in painful sensations.

The second to last egg was dark amythist in color, not unlike the color of Amalia’s eyes, but much more pronounced.

The feeling this one provoked was unlike any of the other eggs. It was wondrous, mystical, like immersing yourself in a good book as you lay by the fire.

Instead of sudden pain, he felt a searching probe of thought.

Then a nuzzling, like a cat pushing its warm furry head against his hand.

Then his mind was lit ablaze as if someone had set a match to kindling.

Ash knew no more.