2,320 Years Ago
B
right light filtered from the rafters above and through stained glass windows as Jha'dor made his way down the Arcosian Ceremonial Hall. Gold filigree was inlaid in the columns supporting the ceiling while gem encrusted statues of the four gods lined either side of the aisle, reflecting the sun’s light in a brilliant shimmering rainbow. Jha’dor supposed the sight would’ve been more awe inspiring if he was seeing them for the first time, but all it did was remind him of home and their chapel at Vengoluth Castle, where it held a near exact replica of the statues here.
But this wasn’t a chapel, and he wasn’t here to worship. He was here to finally claim what was his.
At the other end of the hall stood three figures clad in the extravagant robes that marked them as Arcosia. Essentially, minor deities and prophets of the Drahl people, the Arcosia helped lead them closer to their god and were the ones in charge of holding the Trials of Fire, and Magic. They were the chosen of Drahlros, god of the Sun. None were above them and according to their own word, they worked and lead as one, ensuring that one was not above the other in leadership. Together the three of them stood waiting by the circular dais that lay before them in center of the room for the next initiate of the Trial to arrive.
Which would be me, Jha’dor thought as a grin spread across his face. He hadn’t really been next, but he needed to hurry to get back to his twin in their shared guest room.
The Arcosia Mëthuse, stood on the far-left side of the group that was waiting for him at the raised platform, his tall frame putting him head and shoulders above everyone in the room. Of course, all the Arcosia were a little taller than mortals, but he was exceptionally so. No one can say that he isn’t bold, Jha’dor thought with amusement. The Arcosian had been renamed and given the title Mëthuse the bold, for having fought during the War of Shadow against the ancient dark god Tharacken.
Klen'tar, though not as tall as his brother, was known as the bright. Jha’dor couldn’t remember how he had earned that title, but Klen’tar fit that description as his golden ceremonial robes shone brighter than both Mëthuse and Nauvin’s in the cascading light.
And last, but not least, was Nauvin, the strong. She of the hammer and the shield who slew thousands of the dark god’s forces. Jha’dor knew her best as she was constantly visiting Vengoluth Castle to talk to his father in matters concerning the Drahl Kingdom. Her usually bright face, however, was not happy to see him.
Here we go, Jha’dor thought as he walked up to them, doing his best not to seem disrespectful.
“What is the meaning of this?” Nauvin said as he approached, her eyebrows rising to dangerous heights. “I thought you had been told to wait your turn Jha'dor? There are other initiates that we are to see first.”
“It is only customary for us to meet with the High King’s heir and eldest son first if he is taking the Trial, of which you are neither,” Klen’tar added.
“Yes, I understand, but I grew anxious while waiting, and the others before me insisted I go ahead of them,” Jha'dor said, bowing in respect to Nauvin and Klen’tar.
“Did they?” Mëthuse said with a glance down at Jha'dor’s missing money pouch. “Or is it the significant absence of coins from your pockets that persuaded them?”
“Just because you are the son of the High King does not mean that we will allow you to do as you please,” Klen'tar said softly. “We are not some lowly subject you can control on a whim.”
Jha'dor held his hands out to the sides placatingly. “Please, please. I am merely anxious to show my father what I can do with this gift. Please allow me this chance to prove myself through the Trial and we will see what kind of man I really am.” With the power to shift into a dragon I can be free from my father once and for all, Jha’dor thought wistfully. Plus, the faster I’m in and out, the sooner I’ll be able to get to back to Olinar. His twin brother, Olinar, was still recovering from an unusual illness and he wanted to get back quickly.
Nauvin inspected him for a minute before turning to her colleagues who both turned to her as their eyes all glazed over.
He had heard the Arcosia could communicate telepathically, and he could almost guess when they were reacting to a comment from the others with the twitch of an eye here, or the tightening of the muscles around a jaw. They were subtle changes but were just enough when looking for them to be noticeable if you knew where to look. Now if he only knew what they were discussing. Nauvin made regular visits to Vengoluth Castle now and again and had been friendly with him and Olinar, so he knew she was aware of Olinar’s illness. Maybe that would help tip the scales in his favor for going through with the Trial before the rest of the initiates waiting.
“Enough,” Nauvin said after a few minutes of silence. “We have deliberated long enough, and there is no reason why we cannot proceed with the trial. But this will be the last time we show favor to you, Jha'dor, son of Allumin.”
Jha'dor stepped forward, taking his place on the dais and taking a low bow before them all. “Thank you. You will not be disappointed.”
Nauvin frowned, but the other two Arcosia raised their hands, and Jha'dor watched in satisfaction as she reached out with her fingers to touch theirs, creating a circle around him on the raised platform. Seemingly as one, the three Arcosia began to shift to their draconic selves, their bodies growing and filling the room as the circle grew around Jha'dor.
In awe, he watched as the light from their scales filled the chamber, dazzling him in an array of blue, gold, and emerald sparks. Energy rushed through him and the chamber as their magic began coursing through their outstretched arms, the tips of their clawed hands still touching the other.
“Jha'dor, son of Allumin,” Nauvin said, her voice deep and resonating now. “You come before us to prove your worth to Drahlros, and to us, of your desire to face the Trial. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” he said as the excitement swelled within him.
“Then display your token.”
Reaching into a pocket, Jha'dor withdrew a dragon’s heart, holding it out for all of them to see. It was only a few days old.
“Hold it close to your heart,” Mëthuse commanded. “Now begins the Trial by Fire. Now begins the Trial of your Heart.”
Jha'dor held the dragon’s dead heart close to his own, his pulse beating to a rhythm that screamed in his ears. It defied their demands, it defied their rules, and he loved it. He knew it was blasphemy to enjoy this, but he had longed for this moment for years.
The three Arcosia breathed fire upon him. Not the normal heat of a dragon’s fire, but the heat of change, of understanding... of will.
As the flames reached him, he recalled how only days ago he had faced a similar fire. When he had killed his first dragon. It’s all lead up to this moment, he thought as the inferno swirled about him. Will I succumb to the heat, or will I be made the master of it? The second the fire touched his skin Jha'dor’s body and soul flared with pain, and he found that his mind was at war with the power of the Arcosia. It was as if he could hear the fire whispering sweet words of release. To let go of his desires and to let it consume him. His body wanted to oblige, to give in and to become one with the aether as the heat began to singe his hair.
And his soul…his soul was in chaos. He could feel something pulling and ripping at his thoughts, surging and trying to look for what was buried deep in his mind. No, I am the master of my fate, Jha'dor thought as he pulled himself upright, unaware that he had even hunched over during the Trial. I have sacrificed too much to get here to let it all go up in flames. Memories flashed before him, some of his father beating him in a drunken stupor, others of his time with Olinar and their dreams to one day get away from their abusive father. More memories flashed before him as the power continued to pull at his soul, to tear him from the inside out. Gritting his teeth, he refused.
I will not yield! Jha'dor cried in his mind. I will not break; my mind is my own.
A physical thump beat against his chest, startling him as he opened his eyes.
The dead dragon’s heart was beating against him, almost matching his own excited rhythm. As if lost in a trance, his eyes stayed fixed on it as a deep red glow began to emanate from within the heart’s core. The swirling powers that against his soul lessened and Jha'dor grinned. Was this it? Was this what he had been waiting for?
Summoning the rest of his strength, he screamed into the fiery vortex as it continued to spin about him. He could feel it responding to his will, feel the wild tempest wanting to know if he was strong enough. It burned away at the dragon’s heart in his hand, their pulsing power merging into one single rhythm of pure might.
“A powerful heart,” came Nauvin’s draconic voice faintly over the fire. “But will it consume you?”
The magical fire that had but a second before seemed ready to join him, instead now burned his flesh.
No. He had won the fight. He had showed his worth and his unyielding determination to be in control. He couldn’t lose. He wouldn’t lose!
“No!” Jha'dor screamed out again. “I will not let it consume me. I will change my fate!”
The dragon’s heart glowed like molten steel and Jha'dor focused all his will on the fire surrounding him. Howling in ecstasy, he crushed the beating heart, sending its glowing pieces into the storm around him. Instinctively he took in a deep breath, deeper than he had ever taken before and sucked in the flames as they rushed in and through him.
And he grew.
The flames burned through his body, and he screamed in pain as he felt himself transforming. His whole body elongated, wings sprouting from his back as scales grew over flesh. Talons replaced nails, spikes grew along his spine, and deep inside he could feel the fire congealing into a fiery inferno that he could summon at will.
In fact…
Unable to contain his joy any longer, Jha'dor opened his maw, and a jet of flame came pouring out, bathing the chamber in brilliant light.
“Enough, Jha'dor,” Klen'tar called, now back in his human form with both he and the other Arcosia holding out their hands and using their magic to hold at bay the heat and flames.
Cutting off the fire Jha'dor looked himself over, using his long neck to see just how much he had been changed by the Trial.
His muscles bunched and knotted under glistening, rich, mahogany-colored scales, while along his back and down to his tail were three rows of spikes. He was nearly as tall as the Arcosian’s were in their shifted draconian state, and he was sure that he could fly about the chamber if he wanted.
Flight.
Freedom.
No longer did he have to live under his father's rule. No longer did he have to subjugate himself to the whims of that old man. He had not lied when he said he wanted to show his father what he could do. With this new ability to shift he could now fight back or run away. But what about Olinar. Can I leave him behind?
Slowly he transformed back to his human form. It didn’t hurt as it had going to the other way, but he could feel as all energy in his draconic body was compressed into his normal self. Soon he would have to get away so he could feel the joy of flight and fire that was now his right as a Drahl shifter, but for now he could feel his joy seeping away only to be replaced with guilt.
“Is something amiss, Jha'dor?” Mëthuse asked. “You seemed so happy just a mere moment ago.”
“It is nothing that you great leaders may be able to provide assistance,” Jha'dor said, bowing to each of them in turn. “But I will thank you from the bottom of my heart for this gracious gift. I pray and thank Drahlros above that he has given me this opportunity to prove myself worthy of his blessing.”
“Then go with our own blessings, and may Drahlros’ light watch over you,” Nauvin said in a kindly voice. “And send our regards to your brother. We are very excited to see what he has brought for his Trial.”
Stepping up to his guest room, Jha'dor took a deep breath and opened the door. At twenty feet wide and about 30 feet long, he had a spacious room that he shared with Olinar. A table that could be seated for two was closest to the room’s entrance, while two luxurious four poster beds were against the wall to his left, and two writing desks sat opposite them to his right. A full body mirror stood between the desks almost seven feet tall and framed in gold and silver. At the end of the room was a set of double doors that opened onto a wide balcony looking out over the mountains the palace was set on and the cliff below.
“Brother!” his identical twin called from across the room, sitting on the bed nearest the balcony doors. At six and a half feet tall, Olinar’s weakened body stood slowly with spasms of pain shooting across his face. He took a step only to begin coughing so hard his light brown hair whipped about his face, and it sounded like Olinar was choking on something. It killed Jha'dor inside to see his brother so frail. Before they had left Vengoluth Palace, Olinar had assured their father that he had been healing. But Jha’dor knew better. If anything, it had gotten worse, and Olinar was doing everything he could to keep it from their father.
His brother’s coughing grew so bad Olinar had to sit down where he stood. Frowning, Jha’dor hurried over and reached out with gentle arms. “Let me help.”
Olinar glanced up with his blue eyes and smiled softly. “This thing will be the death of me soon,” he said between gasps of breath as Jha’dor helped him to his feet.
“I know you’ve been lying to father. I can see it in your eyes,” Jha'dor said frowning. He hated it when Olinar was so depressing.
Olinar shook his head. “I knew there wasn’t going to be any hiding this from you. Eventually you were going to figure it out.” Taking out a handkerchief, he dabbed at his lips and Jha’dor thought he saw something pink on it. “Speaking of eyes, yours have changed.”
“What do you mean?” Jha’dor asked. “How?”
“Probably had something to do with the Trial, but they are now a bluish green,” Olinar said with a chuckle. “Go and look in the mirror.”
Walking over to the mirror, Jha’dor was surprised to find that Olinar was right. My eyes have turned a shade greener. Although he knew he would be getting the ability to shift, he had not heard about nor expected the sudden change in eye color. Why wasn’t this ever mentioned before? “What does it mean?” he asked aloud.
Olinar shrugged. “Who knows.”
Turning around, Jha’dor pointed an accusing finger at Olinar. “Don’t think this has distracted me. We still need to talk about how you’re doing and why you’re lying to father.”
Olinar shook his head as Jha’dor helped him stand and then sit properly at their table. “Fine, but it’s nothing, really. Between this sickness and the wound I received from my duel last month with Arellis, my body has hardly had the chance to fully recover.”
“It’s more than that, though. This cough of yours has only gotten worse since we left home. What is happening to you?” Jha’dor pleaded as he took the other chair at the table. He could understand still being sore from a dueling wound and getting sick, but for almost a month? For a time, he had wondered if Arellis, the son of High Lord Nedahl, had poisoned Olinar with his blade, except that the healer, their half uncle Claudus, had said that what was ailing Olinar was not caused by poison.
“Would you stop fussing over me? I’m not a child to be mothered,” Olinar said with a growl, his expression darkening a little. “Tell me what happened? Were the Arcosian’s furious that you jumped ahead?”
A mischievous grin touched Jha'dor’s lips. “Exactly like you said they would. I swear, Nauvin was about to throw me out when she saw me walk through that door.”
Olinar laughed, only for it to turn into another racking cough. Covering his face with his handkerchief, Olinar coughed until he could barely breathe.
Jha'dor watched helpless, wishing he could do something to ease his brother’s pain. At twenty-five years of age, they had seen and done so much together. For a time, King Allumin had wondered if Olinar could attend the Arcosian Palace and participate in the Trials. But between Olinar and their uncle, they had convinced their controlling father to let him come in the hopes that by taking the Trial by Magic and becoming a Drahli, Olinar would be strong enough to overcome whatever illness had beset him.
“Fetch me a drink, would you?” Olinar wheezed, putting his handkerchief away but not before Jha'dor saw the red marks of blood. “We can have a toast to your success in the Trial.”
“Sure thing.” It’s getting worse, he thought as he stood to get them a drink. Within a few minutes he was pouring Olinar a glass of wine. He stopped when it was still under half full.
“There’s a lot of empty space in that cup,” Olinar complained.
“You know Claudus advised against heavy drinking while you recover,” Jha'dor answered, pulling the bottle out of his reach.
“Did I ask what he said?” Olinar questioned, his tone growing cold as he raised an eyebrow.
“We can’t keep doing this, Olinar,” Jha'dor said, his voice growing softer with concern. “We need you to get better. Father said—”
“To hell with him, we’re grown adults,” Olinar said, cutting him off. “Just pour me a little more.”
“This isn’t right,” Jha'dor said, putting the bottle in his lap. “You’ve been drinking a lot recently when instead you should—”
“Would you stop mothering me?” Olinar said, nearly yelling at him. “I’m not asking for the whole bottle, just fill the cup and I’ll be fine.”
“Listen, let’s just wait. We don’t have to—”
“Dammit, Jha'dor just give me the bottle!” Olinar said. Reaching across the table faster than Jha'dor had seen him move in a while, Olinar snatched the bottle out of his hands and poured his cup till it was overflowing.
Jha'dor sat frozen, horrified. This isn’t like him. This isn’t my brother. It was true that Olinar’s drinking had grown worse in the last month, but he hadn’t thought he had gotten to the point of being a drunkard. His alarm grew when Olinar began to chug the drink down the red wine as fast as he could.
“What’s the matter with you? Aren’t we supposed to be celebrating?” Olinar asked roughly when he had stopped long enough to see Jha'dor’s face.
“I don't know you anymore,” he said quietly. “You were never a drinker, or one for heavy spirits. But this...” he gestured to the mess running down Olinar’s face and shirt. “It’s enough to have made mother weep.”
“And?” Olinar said as his face darkened more.
Jha’dor’s eyes widened in shock. Ever since she had passed, there had been a silent agreement between them that whenever one of them brought up something mother would have said about them, they wouldn’t argue the matter. Until now, he thought sourly. “Why are you like this? If you had told me that you were going to wind up a drunkard, on the verge of dying from some unknown illness, and were starting to act like father with rage then I would’ve laughed. But now...”
“What’s your point?” Olinar snapped.
“We are supposed to be in our prime,” Jha'dor said leaning forward. “Not whatever this is that you are turning yourself into.”
“And what exactly is that?” Olinar said with a snarl.
Jha'dor shook his head sadly. He wanted to say that he was turning into father but wasn’t sure if that would push him over the edge. Instead, he said, “I don’t know, but this is not like you. Mother would—”
“Will you just drop it?” Olinar shouted, standing to his feet and shoving Jha'dor while still in his chair in a feat of strength that was in complete contrast to how he had been mere seconds before. Jha’dor’s eyes watered from smacking his head on the stone floor. Between bleary tears he saw Olinar looming over him with his cup sloshing wine everywhere, as images sprang to Jha'dor’s mind of a time not far back when father had done the same thing to him. For a moment, he felt like he was ten years younger when their father got into one of his tempers. Like the one that had taken their mother.
“We are grown men now. We don’t need mother, father, or anyone to tell us who we should and shouldn’t be,” Olinar spat. “She's gone, Jha'dor. You hear me? Gone; and I will not have my twin brother, reprimand—”
But what he had been about to say stuck in his throat as the cup he had been holding landed on the floor with a clang, spilling its contents everywhere. Olinar followed soon after as his body crumpled, folding over himself in the worst fit of coughing Jha’dor had ever seen from him till he lay in the spilled liquid. Horror filled Jha’dor as Olinar’s body was consumed by the fit, leaving him gasping and struggling for breath between each racking cough.
Eventually the coughing stopped, leaving Olinar panting on the floor for breath. Unsure what else to do, he crawled on hands and knees to his brother until he could see his face. Olinar’s skin was pale, and he looked...weak. Gently he took Olinar’s and placed it on his lap. Balling his hand into a fist he tried to soothe the irritated muscles in Olinar’s body as he rubbed his back and neck.
It’s not helping, he thought as another fit hit his brother. And there’s nothing we can do to stop it. Within minutes the wine on the floor mixed with the blood that was now freely flowing from Olinar’s lips. Why couldn’t Claudus heal you? Jha'dor thought as he tried to fight back the tears. “Don’t you die on me.”
“I can’t… live like this...Jha'dor,” Olinar wheezed as tears began to fall from his eyes. “I… am tired. So tired.”
“We just have to wait a little longer,” Jha'dor said, trying not to feel numb inside from everything that had happened in rapid succession. “Claudus said that if we can get you through the Trial of Magic then perhaps it can—”
“I’m not going to get better,” Olinar cut in, making his raspy voice loud enough to be heard over Jha'dor’s protestation. “We both knew it. There’s no point… in denying that. Mother wouldn’t approve of lying to ourselves.”
Jha'dor’s eyes widened as the numbness from within was replaced with something else. Something cold.
“But then why go through all of this? Why come here if you weren’t going to live?”
“Because that was what father wanted to hear,” Olinar confessed weakly. “You know what he’s like.”
Jha'dor glanced at the fallen chair he had been sitting in, the memory coming back again of other times when father had heard news that did not sit well with him. “I do.”
Olinar’s face turned into a morbid smile. “He was angry when I told him I was coming anyway. I doubt there was an answer I could’ve given that he would’ve been happy with. But I could see it. Like before. He wanted to beat me like he used to, but I don’t think he’d dare do more damage to his favorite son. His Heir.”
Jha'dor winced. It didn’t matter that he had been told that same thing by their father. It still hurt.
“But why?” Jha'dor pleaded. “Why did you come with me if you were just going to die anyway?”
“Because I can feel this...thing, inside of me. It wouldn't have gotten better, even if I somehow miraculously survived it. It would’ve just been a waste of time.”
“But you don’t know that,” Jha'dor said, wishing that they had never come here. “You could’ve been back home where it was comfortable and warm, surrounded by our family.”
“Jha'dor,” Olinar gasped, reaching up and gripping him tightly on the arm. “I. Will. Not. Make. It. It didn’t matter if I was here or there. All that matters is that I’m with my favorite person in the world right now.”
Tears fell from Jha'dor’s eyes as he held his twin closer.
“Listen to me. Listen! You must not let this opportunity go to waste,” Olinar said fervently, even as Jha'dor could feel the strength of his brother’s grip fade. “Take my place in the Trial by Magic. Use the power of the shifter... and the magic of the Drahli... to escape our father... be free... of him.”
Another racking cough filled the air from Olinar, and Jha'dor’s vision began to fade behind a film of tears as he tried to choke back the sobs.
“Don’t... let the... old bastard... win,” Olinar said between gasps. “Be...great.”
He coughed some more and Jha'dor could feel his twin’s muscles bunch in pain as they spasmed. Blood flecked Jha'dor’s clothes and he was sure his face too, even though he hadn’t felt anything. Then again, he couldn’t feel anything except his brother’s frail body against his. Soon the coughing stopped, and Jha'dor wiped away his tears to find Olinar laying still on the ground. His eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face.
“No. No, no, no, no, no!” Jha'dor cried, the tears coming back again even harder than before. He checked to see if his brother’s chest was rising but couldn’t tell if it was moving because of him or Olinar. Barely able to see past the tears, he placed his fingers against Olinar’s throat trying to find a pulse. Nothing.
Finally, the sobs broke past his mental wall as he wailed. Desperate to find any sign of life he clung to his brother as he placed a hand against Olinar’s chest, willing his brother’s heart to beat. Nothing.
“NO!” Jha'dor sobbed. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready for this. Why? Why? WHY? Why did his brother have to die? Anger flooded through him, mingling with his grief and pain. How dare you do this to me, he raged. When things were just beginning to look right in the world you had to go and die?
No. No that wasn’t the only thing Olinar had done. He had done something even worse. With his dying breath he had sworn Jha’dor to blasphemy. It was a lose-lose situation. He could either go through with Olinar’s dying wish and take on a second Trial—something that the very gods themselves had forbidden—or he could ignore his brother’s dying wish. Either way he would be doing something heinous in the eyes of the world, and either way, he would be looked down on for his choice.
“That’s not fair,” Jha’dor seethed, looking down at his brother’s slack face. “You don’t get to just die and leave me in this position.”
But Olinar didn’t move. Didn’t even bother to open his eyes and tell him it had all been some big joke.
Shaking with frustration, he laid down his brother and glared about the room. He wanted to break something. To tear something apart just as his soul was being torn from this pain. Get out of my head, he said to the grief and pain in his mind. Leave me as my brother has left me.
He couldn’t find anything, instead he saw the balcony doors. Scrambling to his feet he ran and nearly broke the door off its hinges as he burst through it. The afternoon sun raged down on him, blinding him for a second until he could see. Not caring who was watching, he jumped off the balcony ledge.
The palace of the Arcosians was placed high in the mountains of Malakir, overlooking a sheer cliff to one side, and he passed by all of it in a blur.
Blood pounded in his eyes and a thrill of excitement replaced the cold emptiness that had been present in his mind just moments before. When he was nearly to the ground, he summoned the power inside and shifted into his draconic form. Roaring in ecstasy of the flight, Jha'dor pulled himself out of the deep dive and soared across the plains. He flew high over the trees, taking in the more pungent scent of the forest and the animals below until the rush of adrenaline began to wear off, leaving him with the empty hole of anguish.
Anger clawed at him again, but this time he was able to let loose a jet of flames in response. Fire filled the air as the whole world before him blazed. I may have proven myself worthy of this power, but I will do as Olinar requested and take the second Trial. Instead of running away as I had planned, I will become great, and father will rue the day he underestimated his second son. A toothy grin broke upon his face as he continued to breathe destruction. Let those in the castle see who he was. Let them see his anger. They would all know and see what it was like to feel his anguish.
Flying high above the flames, Jha'dor enjoyed his handy work. It was... cathartic, to deal this much damage in a few passes. Breathing deeply the scent of burning wood, he let the smell wash away the aches and pains of his soul.
Strange, had he always liked the smell of things burning, or was it something that had come about from his draconic form?
The sound of shouts reached him, and he turned to see men coming to put out the fires he had started. He hadn’t burned any farms or villages that he had seen in his passing, so why were these men bothering with quenching the fire?
The sight of the men working also brought into view the Arcosian Palace. Those empty feelings he had left behind there returned, and Jha'dor snarled at the castle. I need to clear my head some more, and then perhaps I will return.
Flapping his wings hard he turned and flew over the mountains, seeking refuge in the solitude of the wilderness.