Phoenix Destiny

Ten

“Milagros?” Dak looked at him. “Well, I’ve never seen anything to prove it. But I suppose it must exist.”

“Do you believe any of the tales?”

Dak shrugged.

“Surely, you have an opinion.”

“Well,” Dak thought for a moment, “I don’t subscribe to tales of enchanted forests, a crystal castle or unicorns. I’ve never seen a dragon, but the island must be real enough. The tales must come from somewhere.”

Jaron listened and nodded.

“If there is an island kingdom, then it must have a royal family,” Dak continued. “I’ve heard tales of the princess. They say the light of the suns is in her hair, the depth of the sea is in her eyes. I don’t know if I believe any of that, but she must be beautiful or they wouldn’t talk about her. What about you, do you believe them?”

“Yes, I believe it all,” he answered, then quickly added, “a bard must or how can he sing?”

Dak raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Jaron strummed the lute. They sat in companionable silence. As the suns rose over the horizon, Dak left and joined the other soldiers less they labeled him as a friend of the jester.

Jaron watched the General and a small entourage enter the castle gates. The group later exited the castle, quietly discussed amongst themselves, then entered again. Jaron wondered about that. Negotiations perhaps?

His gaze swept over the camp. The cooks had fires going making breakfast while most of the soldiers lounged among the tents or checked the condition of their weapons. A few stepped away from the camp to spar. It felt like routine but underneath there was a sense of unrest. The soldiers were eager for battle.

At midday, a scout rode through camp, announcing, “Meeting tonight! Everyone must attend! Meeting tonight!”

Jaron’s eyes narrowed, but he continued to strum without pause. When night fell, a large campfire was built. Jaron entertained them with songs. His thoughts were still filled with heavy thoughts. Consequently, his voice was mellower than usual. When he finished, the General stood.

“Gentlemen! We have reached an agreement with our benefactor. I will ride out with two divisions of soldiers. Finlay, you will lead the remainder to Garwood and camp until our return. Rest my, friends, tomorrow, we fight!”

A cheer swept through the mass of soldiers. Jaron watched from his place just within the light of the fire. He did not rejoice with the others. The uneasy feeling had grown in the days they spent near the castle.

He wondered if this would be the opportunity Dorrall needed, or if the soldier would continue to bide his time. In the morning, he watched the troop leave as he helped pack the rest of the camp. The General was in good spirits. Jaron, unable to shake his unease, wondered if he would see the man alive again.

The rest of the company moved to an evergreen forest at the eastern edge of Manlea and pitched the new camp. Jaron entertained, though most weren’t interested. They were anxious about the state of the battle and the payment they would receive after the rebellion was laid to rest. One quality Jaron admired was their seriousness with which they conducted their business. But he had other concerns.

Ivy grew quicker than Jaron anticipated. In a matter of days, her orange eyes brightened red. The dragon began flexing her wings, experimenting with flapping and manipulating the newly discovered appendages. She was no longer content to remain in the tent, and he found hiding her was becoming increasingly more difficult.

More than once, a soldier tripped over a rock that wasn’t there before and disappeared just as suddenly. Jaron often glimpsed her speared tail vanishing around the bend. The cooks found some of their packs torn, and the contents scattered across the bed of their wagons. Whole carcasses of rabbit or duck vanished from their stock with only fur and feathers left behind. Struggling to find a way to keep her secret, Jaron took her on daily walks in the forest with Gambler.

There, Ivy was free to explore. Jaron watched her as she scuttled across the forest floor, swam streams, climbed trees and leapt from branch to branch as nimbly as a squirrel. He marveled as she spread her wings, contorted her body and leapt increasingly large distances between trees.

“Taking to the sky, I see,” a thoughtful voice stated.

Jaron turned to see Artac perched on Gambler’s saddle and said, “I haven’t heard from you in a while. I was beginning to think you had perished.”

“A Fay cannot die any more than a soul can be destroyed,” Artac watched Ivy glide to another tree. “It won’t be long before she learns to truly fly.”

“She’s a natural,” Jaron nodded.

“Of course she is! She’s a dragon,” the sprite huffed. “Dragons are creatures of fire and air.”

“Do all dragons learn so quickly?”

“It is in a dragon’s best interest to learn its skills as quickly as it is able.”

“When do they learn to breathe fire?”

“It depends on kind and their territory. Castle Dragons, Gold Dragons and High Dragons all develop differently. Castle Dragons are the quickest. Their small size makes it necessary. It would be better for Ivy if you were in a mountainous area, however.”

“There are different kinds of dragons?”

“Of course, the Phoenix created infinite variety in all things. Old Fay myth records several emergences of dragons: winged serpents, multiple-headed beasts, ones with feathers, ones with fins, wyverns and so on. Most are no more than legend now. In this age, there are only five main types left: Aram Ryu, or High Dragons; Lailan Ryu, the wyverns; Kedma Ryu, the dragons of the east; Ofira Ryu, the gold mounts of the Dragon-Knights; and Carman Ryu, what you call Castle Dragons.”

“So, the Dragon-Knights were real.”

“Are real,” the sprite corrected, “at least they are for another generation. No doubt they will soon disappear along with the rest. Already, they are things of legend in their home territory.”

“Why are they gone?” Jaron asked, though he expected the sprite to leave without giving an answer.

To his surprise, Artac seemed happy to tell him, saying, “When Nuwa was young, magic abounded. Now it is aged, changed, and has become far scarcer. Already, many things have disappeared: elves, demons, large beasts. Those that have managed to survive have retreated to remote areas where magic is still strong. Why should dragons, or Fay for that matter, be any different?”

“You said the Fay cannot die.”

“I didn’t say they died. I said they disappeared,” the sprite corrected.

“But some still live in remote areas. Where, exactly?”

“To the Great Unknown South, deep sea and mountains mostly. Some have retreated to Milagros: unicorns, alicorns, pegasi, and the Ryu anyway.”

“Alicorns? Pegasus? Now you are talking nonsense.”

“A thousand years ago you would not think so. You should not dismiss myths so readily. You might be surprised by the truths to be found within.”

“What truths?”

“Now, that would be telling,” Artac gave him a sly wink.

“Keep your secrets if it pleases you,” Jaron shook his head. “Have you seen the General?”

“It is not my duty to watch over the General.”

“I would appreciate it if you would, for me.”

The sprite’s expression was indifferent, but Jaron sensed it would honor the request. It, at least, was trustworthy. He turned and whistled for Ivy. The dragon leapt from the foliage, gliding down to his feet.

Jaron stooped to pick up the small reptilian. Ivy chirped and crawled up his arm to perch on his shoulder as Jaron turned back toward the camp. The dragon hissed at Artac, but it was only half-hearted at best.

“She seems to like you better now,” Jaron commented.

“She is getting used to my presence. Cadmus was the same way.”

Mention of the other miniature dragon made Jaron wonder about Alexis. Is she okay? Was she able to reconcile with her father?

Daily concerns kept her from his mind. Even so, she remained in his dreams. The sprite said it watched over many people. It seemed familiar enough with Alexis. Surely, she had once been under its watchful gaze. Jaron was comforted by the thought they shared the secret of the sprite, though he didn’t know why.

Artac looked at the young man before him. If the sprite guessed the man’s thoughts, he said nothing. Silently, he disappeared and left Jaron to wonder alone.

The General returned in victory and with the soldiers’ payment. It did not surprise Jaron that the amount each received depended on their rank. The General took the largest share; however, he used part of it to provide mead and ale for a celebration.

Jaron was grateful he didn’t have to perform for the drunken revelry. He doubted the soldiers would notice his absence. He sought sanctuary away from the camp. Even though he was well out of sight, he still heard their shouts and drunken songs.