Dragon (A Histories of Purga Novel)

It took Asher longer to get to Vitari flying beneath the forest’s canopy. There were no convenient thermals he could use to speed his progress and give his wings a rest. But he was still much faster than if he’d walked all the way back. When he got to his city-tribe, night had fully arrived and the cadaris (balls filled with brightly colored luminescent gas in various shades if color floating in the air) were lit.

He focused on his family’s enormous hut and turned in that direction. When he got to the front porch jutting out of the hut, he landed and shimmered back into his human form. He opened the door roughly and it crashed against its frame. The noise was shockingly loud.

“Asher?” his mom asked, concern in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

She was sitting on the couch with a needle and thread, mending a pair of his pants. Tarvo was next to her, sharpening one of his favorite swords. He looked up at his son and when he saw the look on Asher’s face, he promptly laid his tools down and went to him.

“Where is your sister?” was the first thing he said.

Asher couldn’t help it. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Aeole shook her head back and forth, her hand on her mouth. She started moaning.

“T-they took her. They killed Gar and then they took her,” he said. “The Rooks. I watched one of them take her into the sky. I tried to stop him but I was too late.”

Tarvo turned around and slammed a fist into a wall. The force of the blow seemed to shake the entire house. He spun around, his face twisted into rage.

“I told her!” he shouted. “I told her they weren’t to be trusted.”

“We have to get her back!” Asher wailed. “We have to.”

Tarvo didn’t answer. Instead, he left the hut without saying anything else. He walked the bridge to the central hub building.

Asher followed after him after reassuring his mother that Keiara was still alive when she was kidnapped. Aeole, however, took little comfort from the fact.

When Asher got to the central hub, he found his father standing next to a long horn made of the fallen branch of one of the monoak trees. The dark, slightly reddish wood had been painstakingly polished to a high gloss. Tarvo put his lips to it and blew fiercely. A loud, wailing sound filled the night air. He took a breath and then blew on it again. Two horn blows. The call to arms.

Asher had been right. His father was going to war.

In minutes, warriors of every shape and age filed into the big building and pretty soon, there was barely enough room to stand. After that, the warriors just started spilling onto the bridges. There were thousands of them in every direction you could look. Both men and women.

Tarvo stood on a slightly raised dais, watching the assembled crowd. When the voices and mutterings died down and everyone looked to their leader, he spoke.

“We’ve been dealt a blow today that we cannot ignore,” he shouted, his voice loud and powerful. “The Rooks have come to our lands and killed one of our own. Then, to insult us further, they took one as well. My daughter! Keiara. Will we stand by and let them do what they wish? Or will we march against them and deliver our wrath onto their very doorsteps!”

“We will kill them all!” shouted a young warrior standing in the front row. Asher wasn’t surprised to see that it was Niku.

The warriors, every last one of them, joined in and yelled at the top of their lungs in agreement and raised their fists into the air.

“We have spent too long hiding in our forests and defending ourselves from them. Now is the time to attack. Now is the time to show them that we are a force that will not sit by and be massacred. Now is the time to remind them of our power!”

The warriors again let loose a howling roar. The noise was so fierce, it was almost a solid wall and Asher had to put his hands to his ears.

“Ready your weapons and your armor as fast as you can,” Tarvo commanded. “We march in six hours for the border. And then on to Roanoke!”

Tarvo watched the massed group of his army file away to prepare. When the last of them were gone, he turned to Asher.

“I want you to get all of the supplies ready for march. We’ll need food, water, armor, weapons. We’ll need all the wagons you can get. Fly to the Herdlands and tell Beltar we’ll need horses. All of them.”

“Yes, dad.” He shimmered into a hawk and flew away. He landed after only a few hundred feet ten minutes later. He changed back into his human form and knocked on the door of a medium-sized artisan hut. It opened, showing Asher a man with thick, oversized muscles and a scarred and pitted face.

“Asher,” the man said. “What brings you here? I have a lot of work to do and little time to do it in. I’ve just been sent word from your father that the army will need good, hardy weapons. This had better be important.”

“I’m sorry to intrude, Hert, but I need to speak with Fowler,” he responded. A glint of anger appeared in Hert’s brown eyes.

“You leave my boy out of the mess you and your sister got us into, boy.” He moved to slam the door shut but Asher blocked it with his foot.

“My sister did not bring this down on our heads. She was trying to prevent further incidents with the Rooks. Now, by order of my father, Tarvo and Chieftain of our people, I would speak to your son, Fowler.” He talked in a voice much older than his twelve years.

Hert scowled at him and Asher was pretty sure the man wanted to beat his face to a pulp. But he could see fear lurking there too. Fear for his son. Asher’s anger eased somewhat.

“I apologize,” Asher said, bowing slightly. “I didn’t come here with the intention of causing a fight and I have no intention of allowing Fowler to be put in harm’s way either. I have been asked to gather horses and in six hours’ time, but I have also been asked to get supplies. I can’t do both and still meet the deadline my father handed down. I need him to take care of the supplies while I’m at the Herdlands. Anything and everything he can get his hands on. Weapons, armor, food, water and especially wagons. Please, Hert. I am not sending him to battle, I’m just asking for his help.”

Hert’s ferocious scowl softened. The hardness to his eyes left and he stood aside. Asher thanked him and went into Fowler’s room. He found it empty.

“Where is he?” Asher asked.

“He’s in there; you just have to find him. It’s a game he likes to play,” Hert replied with a sigh, followed by the ringing clang of a hammer.

“I don’t have time for games, Fowler,” Asher said, angrily. Fowler had been his best friend since he could remember, but at times the boy could be severely irritating.

Asher scanned the room quickly but found nothing. Then he opened a wardrobe, checked behind a nightstand with a lit cadari floating above it which bathed the room in soft, white light. Finally, he looked underneath the bed. All with no luck. He started to pull his body out from underneath the bed when something caught his eye in the darkest, most shadowed region. He stared hard at the area that had attracted his attention and still saw nothing. He tried harder and then, vaguely, the outline of a chameleon started to appear to him. He growled harshly. Then he snaked out a hand and grabbed the lizard before it could get away. He crawled out from underneath the bed, still holding the struggling chameleon, and stood up. He tossed the creature onto the bed and watched its form shimmer into Fowler.

The boy was smiling, obviously proud.

“Almost had you there,” Fowler laughed. He saw the seriousness on his friend’s face and his laughter died in his throat. “What’s the matter with you? You look like someone just died.”

“The Rooks abducted my sister,” he responded. There was a sharp edge to his voice that gave Fowler pause. “We go to war.”

His friend blinked his eyes, uncomprehending. He heard that from his dad a couple minutes ago but thought he was only joking. He should’ve known better.

His dad never joked around.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “We can’t go to war. We’ve never gone to war with them. The most we do is sit back and defend our homes. If we try to attack them…we-we’ll be slaughtered to a man.”

The fear was palpable on Fowler’s face.

“That doesn’t concern you. You’re too young to fight in any case,” Asher told him.

“Then why are you here?”

“I need to gather Beltar’s horses. While I’m there, I need you to gather up all the supplies you can get. We’ll need food, weapons, armor, water and wagons. Lots of all of them. Now, I’ve wasted enough time here. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-yeah. Sure,” Fowler answered. “Don’t worry, I won’t fail you.”

Asher nodded. He walked out of Fowler’s room, said bye to Hert and then went back outside. He shimmered into a hawk and flew away.

It was about twenty minutes to the Herdlands, across the Ursa River. Asher flew closer to the ground because at higher elevations there were more branches. He didn’t want to waste energy trying to dodge all of them. He flew as fast as he could but also tried to pace himself. It wouldn’t help to get too tired. Then he wouldn’t be able to fly.

After awhile, he started hearing sounds of rushing water. Then he was through the forest and the great Ursa River was before him. Its white tipped waters rushed along as it wound its way through the big forest. Three different bridges spanned its length. One at ground level and two suspended from the trees on one side to the trees on the other.

Asher didn’t pause to admire the beauty of the river. In fact, he barely noticed. He plunged into the trees on the other side, but they weren’t as dense. About thirty yards later, he came out into an immense and huge area of grasslands. Animals grazed everywhere and off in the distance, spread widely across the acres and acres of land, were six different wooden homes. Fencing separated the different animals from each other while other parts of the grasslands were taken up by farmed land.

Asher saw corn growing in one such field. Peas and beans in another. Then there were lettuce fields. Rice fields. Fields with carrots, potatoes and turnips. Fields with cabbage and fields with pineapples buried in the ground. One field had rows and rows of fruit trees. Apples. Oranges. Lemons. Peaches. And many other types. There were also strawberry fields in the distance and thickets of blueberry and raspberry bushes. There were other crops planted as well, but he couldn’t tell what they were.

He banked to the right and climbed higher into the sky. He found a thermal and glided on it, giving his exhausted wings a slight break. Off in the distance, about four or five miles away, was a huge and sprawling plantation with an elegantly large house. It was easily the biggest one in the area. His superior vision showed him roaming herds of cows, sheep, oxen and off in the distance, horses. There were thousands of the beautiful animals.

That was Beltar’s plantation. He was the wealthiest rancher in the area and his horses were renowned for their speed and fighting capabilities.

He dived, picking up speed, and then started flapping again. He raced through the sky and quickly came to the outer edges of Beltar’s lands. He kept going until he reached the big house and landed lightly on the ground in front of the steps leading up to the front door. He turned back into his human form and ran up them, banging on the heavy, wooden door loudly. It opened and a woman stood in front of him. She was old, her grey hair tied up in a neatly kept bun. Two black needles were stuck through it in a crisscross pattern. He could see intricate designs done in white paint on them.

“Prissa,” he said, bowing to her. “I need to speak with Beltar. Is he here? It’s urgent.”

“He’s out back, with the horses,” she replied, standing aside. “Come in. You look worn out. I’ll get you something to eat and drink and then I’ll go and fetch him.”

He thanked her and followed her into the house. They passed a rather large foyer with a staircase off to the right. Then they went down a hall and into the kitchen. Prissa gestured to one of the chairs at their table and Asher dutifully followed her command and took a seat. Next to him was a large window that looked out onto the beauty of the landscape around them. He took it in, enjoying the view.

Prissa came over with a plate of spice cakes. Crumbled chunks of cinnamon littered the tops of them. He smiled at her as she put down a glass of iced dandelion tea. He wasn’t overly fond of the tea, but Prissa insisted. She said, more times than he cared to remember, that it was good for him.

“Thank you,” he said. “These are my favorite.” He took a cake and bit off a large chunk, washing it down with some of the tea.

“It may have been a long time since I’ve seen you, but I didn’t forget your favorites, nephew.” she told him, patting him on the back. Beltar was his grandfather’s brother, which made him his great-uncle and Prissa his great-aunt. For some reason, however, neither one liked those titles. Ever since Keiara and he first met them, they were told to call them by their given names.

Prissa left him with his spice cakes and tea and walked out the back door. He watched her through the window. She turned and walked over to some fencing. Inside the penned area were about twenty horses, standing and grazing.

Asher turned his eyes away from her and dug into the cakes. He ate voraciously. Flying always made him hungry.

He was just finishing up with his last spice cake when Prissa returned with Beltar.

He looked about the same age as his wife. Maybe a bit older. He wore his white hair long and tied in the back with a leather cord. His ears had dark, black plates about half an inch in diameter in the lobes that stretched them out. Crow’s feet crinkled the corners of both hazel eyes. They deepened as he walked inside and found Asher there.

“Asher!” He smiled. He walked over to the boy and laid a hand on his shoulder. “My lad. You’ve grown. You’re almost as big as a barn. Tell me, have you started eating your mum and dad out of house and home yet?”

“Getting there,” he answered, smiling. But it was a forced one and Beltar saw that. He drew back and eyed him, growing concerned.

“Ah, so it’ll be business first then?” he asked. The smile dropped from his face but his eyes were still concerned. “What’s happened? And what’s this urgent business that’s sent you here?”

Asher explained everything to them. He started with finding Rone in the desert and ended with what Tarvo had sent him there for.

“I’ve heard reports of a Rook living in Vitari. I thought they were just ignorant rumors,” Beltar said, thoughtfully.

“No, they were true,” Asher insisted. “Keiara found him and helped take care of him.”

“She’s always had a big heart, that girl,” Prissa declared, “and a head for adventure.”

Asher just nodded. Thinking about his sister made tears start to well up in his eyes, but he continued with his story. He told them about Rone’s time in Vitari. He told them about the two races trying to learn from each other so that there could be peace. Then he talked about Keiara leaving Rone at Gar’s sentry hut. He told him that she’d gone back home and that he had followed her there, to make sure she was all right. Something happened between her and Rone, but he didn’t know what. He had prodded her and prodded her but she wouldn’t say why she was crying or why she was leaving Rone behind. The next day, she left again. No warning. She was just gone. She hadn’t said where she was going, but when Asher realized her absence, he had a pretty good guess. When he got to the sentry hut, Rone was gone and two Rook women were there under Gar’s protection.

He told them how he ran as fast as he could, but he’d been too late to save her or Gar. He found the old warrior in the sand, dead. Now his dad was calling the warriors to arms. They were going to march on Roanoke and they were going to take Keiara back.

“He sent me here for the horses. He said we would need all of them,” Asher finished. The plate with the spice cakes on it was empty, but Asher fitfully popped bits of crumbs into his mouth. He looked at both of them. “Will you help?”

“Aye,” Beltar responded without hesitation. “Prissa can take care of the other animals in my absence.”

The woman nodded her head, but her eyes were filled with apprehension.

“Well then, we best be getting the horses corralled,” Beltar responded. “Wait out front, Ash. I’ll be around with them in but a moment.”

Asher obeyed. He got up, thanked Prissa again for her hospitality and walked down the hall to the front door. He turned to look at them both and found them embracing. Faintly, he could hear them talking.

“I don’t want you to go, you old goat,” Prissa was saying, but Beltar was patting her hands affectionately.

“I’m not so old that I can’t defend myself, dear,” he told her. “Don’t worry about me. Tend the animals and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Just…,” she stopped, her voice failing her. Asher saw tears glistening on her cheeks. In that moment, she looked vulnerable and beautiful at the same time. “be careful.”

She embraced him and kissed him, but Asher quit looking. He felt guilty for intruding on something that seemed private. He opened the door and went out front, waiting dutifully on the dirt path that led to their house.

He could feel each minute as it ticked by. Time seemed to melt around him and there was nothing he could do to stop or halt its progress. It slipped through his fingers like sand and caused him to be impatient. He was tapping his foot on the ground when he heard the thunder of thousands of hoof beats. In a moment, a stampede of horses came around from the back of the house, led by a huge, black battle-charger. Its hide was dappled with spots of white and it was the only reason he was able to tell that it was his uncle in his horse form. Without those distinctive marks, he would’ve been lost in the press of horses.

The battle-charger angled over to him and Asher watched him come to a stop. Without any sort of cue or direction, the horde of animals running behind him all stopped as well. Asher stared at the battle-charger, its huge brown eyes piercing him. Then the big horse shook its head, neighing loudly.

The message was clear. “Hop on.”

Asher climbed on board the horse’s back with ease. Then he grabbed a fistful of the horse’s vibrant, black mane.

“Yah!” he shouted.

Beltar jumped forward, the powerful muscles in his legs sending him catapulting ahead at ridiculous speed.

Asher was forced to squeeze his knees together and tighten his grip or else he would’ve been thrown from the horse’s back. The pounding hooves were so loud; Asher was having a hard time calculating the length of time they would need to get back to Vitari.

Time was pressing and every minute wasted was another minute Keiara was left in the hands of the enemy.

“Yah!” he screamed louder.

Beltar’s speed tripled and they pounded down the Herdlands to the bridge that spanned the Ursa River.