Dragonmaster
Authors: Karleen Bradford
Karleen Bradford
For Mikey
He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, “The Eagle”
N
orl hesitated on the threshold of Catryn’s chamber. The shimmering walls of the caverns that made up the Domain of the Elders of Taun surrounded him. Light filled the space, glistening, and refracted in shards of colour from the crystal rocks out of which the cave had been carved. At first he had been overawed by such beauty. Up until now he had never failed to drink in the pulsating, ever-changing hues and pray that they would give him strength.
But not today.
He could struggle no longer. If he failed yet again, that would be the end of it. For three long years he had been trying to learn the ways of magic. For three long years he had tasted nothing but failure.
He lifted his chin, squared his shoulders and forced himself to step forward, but, taller now than when he had first arrived, he had to stoop a little as he passed through the narrow opening.
Catryn was waiting for him. She rose from the pillow-strewn seat carved into the cave wall and moved toward him, her fiery mane of hair blazing in the light, hands outstretched in welcome.
“Good morrow, Norl,” she said with a smile. “We will work well this day, I’m certain of it.”
Norl did not return her smile; he could not. She seemed not to notice, however, merely beckoned him closer.
“Let us begin,” she said. She gestured to the fire that burned in the hearth with a flame that produced heat but no smoke. The chamber brightened yet more.
Norl took up his position in front of her, fastened his eyes onto hers for a brief moment, then shut them and tried with every fibre of his being to block out the chamber, block out the light and the warmth, block out every thought but one.
“Stand loose, Norl,” Catryn said. “Let your mind be still. You are trying too hard.”
Easy for her to say. She was the Seer of Taun, magic came as naturally to her as breathing.
“Focus your mind, Norl,” she insisted. “Turn inward. Feel the change begin within you. Feel your bones lighten. Feel the rush of your feathers. Feel it, Norl, and it will be so. You have the power within you. Grasp it. Let it flow through you.”
Norl found he was holding his breath. He had a sense that everything had stopped, that the chamber and even
the air within it had stilled. Time itself was waiting for what would happen next.
“Today you will succeed,” Catryn said. “Believe that.” She fell silent for the space of a heartbeat, then whispered, “Now!”
The words, the tone of her voice, were hypnotic. Norl closed his eyes, willed himself to relax. For a moment he almost felt himself become lighter, become other…then it was gone.
He opened his eyes, looked down. Solid. Human. His arms hung lumpen and heavy in the air, fingers outstretched—futile, ridiculous! He could see disappointment writ plain upon Catryn’s face. And more than disappointment: fear.
“You will fly,” the Protector had promised Norl, “even as I once did.” Norl had believed him. In his mind he had seen himself as an eagle, golden and majestic. He had imagined how it would be to soar through the skies—powerful, invincible. It was what he had lived for.
Catryn had had such faith in him. They all had. Dahl the King, the Elders of Taun and the Protector, a mage himself, although aged now and bent with pain. They had believed so implicitly that he was the Bringer of Light. The one whose power would finally rid their world of Caulda, the last of the dragons that once were the scourge of Taun. Had he not healed Catryn’s magical flying horse merely by placing his hands on it?
It must have been an accident, a coincidence,
he thought now. He had not been able to master even the smallest of magics here. Caulda would surely rise again to rage and destroy the people of Taun, and if he could not stop her, who would?
How well Norl remembered Caulda’s attacks. The dark form blotting out the sun, swooping down over village after village to steal the souls of the people. And, after her raids, soulless victims who were no more than slaves to the evil that controlled the dragon and used her for its purpose. Norl’s own mother, Mavahn, had been one of those victims until Catryn and Dahl had defeated the dark powers that sought to conquer Taun. They had restored the souls to Caulda’s victims, but Catryn and Dahl had not been able to destroy Caulda. It had been he, Norl, who had appeased her.
“Wait!” he had cried when Dahl and Catryn had been at her mercy. “Spare them. I will come back to you if you spare them!”
The dragon had hesitated, looked deep into Norl’s mind. Then she had nodded.
I will call you, boy. When it is time. And you will come to me then. Alone.
The words had been unspoken, for Norl only, and they were etched into his mind as if with fire. Over the years they had haunted him. He had cried out rashly, without thinking, without even knowing why he had made such a promise, or why he had ever thought that his life could be so valuable the dragon would accept his offer, but over the past years he had been determined to
learn enough to face her. To destroy her. He had brought himself to believe the Elders had spoken truly, that he
was
the Bringer of Light. That with just a little more effort, just a little more determination, he would succeed in mastering the magic they all believed lived within him.
But with that thought came anger. Why had they expected so much of him? Why had they encouraged him to believe such an impossibility?
“It is no use!” he cried now, finally, irrevocably, giving up. “There is no magic in me! You were wrong, Cat-ryn! You were all wrong!” He pivoted away before Catryn could see the tears which had sprung to his eyes. She made no move to stop him.
So, even Catryn admits it,
he thought. It felt as if his heart were being torn from his breast.
He stormed back to his sleeping place and threw himself down on the thick, blanket-covered pallet, but he slept not at all. During the long dark hours of the night he faced the truth—there was nothing left for him here. He had tried, but he could not learn, and he could not face Catryn again.
When the first rays of sun began to illuminate the niche he occupied in the Domain, he roused himself. Caulda had not yet sent for him to fulfill his vow, but he would not wait for the summons. He would go now. Perhaps all the dragon wanted was to take her revenge for the death of her son, whom Dahl had slain. Perhaps if he gave her that satisfaction she would spare Taun.
It was all that he could do.
He swept his dark hair back out of his eyes as he yanked on his tunic and leggings, tied a leather thong around his waist and bent to lace up sturdy boots. In his fury, he broke one of the laces and swore as he knotted it again. He threw together a bundle of bread, cheese and a flagon of ale, but he would go fasting and eat later. He gave one last glance around. He would never see this place again. It was only a small chamber, with naught but a pallet and a stand to hold his washing basin, but it had been home to him for the past three years.
For a moment the memory of the life he had led before he came here flooded into his mind. He had not had a room to himself then, just a mat before the hearth in the hut that he had shared with the woman he had always believed to be his mother. Mavahn’s face rose before him. He knew he should go to her before he went to meet Caulda; he had not seen her in all the time he had been with Catryn. But he thrust the thought out of his mind. When he had left to accompany Catryn to the Domain of the Elders, he had boasted that Mavahn would be proud of him. That he would return as a mage. What could he say to her now? That the promises were worthless? That he had failed her as well? She, who had taken him in and raised him with love even though he was not her own? She would look at him with the same disappointment he had read in Catryn’s face. No. It was not to be borne. Let her at least know that he did not die a coward’s death. Catryn would do that for him.
It was early yet, it was not likely that anyone would see him leave, nevertheless, he drew his cloak close and looked furtively around before he slipped out. The garden beyond lay bathed in warmth. Flowers bloomed everlastingly. But out here no sound was to be heard. All slept in silence. The Domain of the Elders who guided Taun existed within Taun, but was apart from it. Here all was perfect, unchanging. A silver stream slipped noiselessly by, rippling in the eternal sunlight. Nothing disturbed the peace that wrapped its inhabitants in a web of tranquility. After the terror of the battle with Caulda, Norl had let himself sink into the serenity and security of the Domain, be absorbed by it, bask in it. He had been so certain that he had found his true home here.
How wrong he had been.
He shook the memories out of his head and cast a quick glance around him to ensure that he was not observed, then made his way stealthily to the portal. He knew well where it was, although there was nothing to be seen but a slight shimmer and opaqueness of the air. A subtle displacement of space. Even he could feel the magic drawing him to it. He had entered through that portal but had not passed back through it since.
For a moment he paused, struck by a sudden thought. It had been Catryn who had opened it when he had arrived here—what if it would not open for
him?
If it did not, he would have to return, but by now they would have missed him—how could he slink back to them after yet another
failure? And such a failure—such a total humiliation. He would have proven himself incapable even of running away. Sick fear clutched at his bowels as he reached up to the space before him. He could not return!
Then, as if it had been waiting for him, he could feel it. A thickness in the air. A resistance to his hands…
He worked his fingers into the invisible solidity and began to unlace the space in front of him. An opening appeared. Holding his breath, dizzy with relief, he worked his way down until, with one last, long look back, he stepped through into the world of Taun. The aperture closed behind him with a whisper as of silk.
He found himself in a glade surrounded by thick forest. It was night here, and the first of the two moons of Taun had risen. Shadows inked the silver luminescence. A wind blew, strong enough to penetrate even the shelter of the trees. Norl pulled his cloak more tightly around him. It was autumn in Taun, the dying of the year, and the night was cool. He shouldered his sack and stood for a moment to get his bearings. He was in the foothills of a mountain that loomed high above him. He knew that Caulda’s lair was hidden high up in that mountain, but he was unsure of the way. When he, Dahl and Catryn had left it and made
their way back to the Domain of the Elders, he had been too young and too full of their victory and the excitement of having faced a dragon to take note of the path they took. Now, in the shimmering but treacherous light of the moons, he could barely make out a narrow track that led straight up, but he did not dare climb that in the darkness. Better, he thought, to follow the well-travelled road in front of him, which seemed to ascend more gradually.
That would be the wisest decision,
he told himself. He did not allow himself to think that he was but trying to avoid facing the dragon for as long as possible. Unbidden, the dragon stench of fire and brimstone filled his nostrils once again.
His mind was relentless. More visions flooded into it, memories that he had been trying to suppress ever since he had been forced to admit his failure. He remembered the wild joy of riding upon Catryn’s back, she in her lioness shape, when they raced to save the people of Daunus, Taun’s greatest city, from the wrath of Caulda. He had been able to understand her commands to him then, even in her animal form; he had heard her words in his mind, but that had been her magic, not his.
Now he was abandoning her.
What would the Elders and the Protector think when they found out he had fled? They who were the very core of life itself in Taun. He had seen them only once, when Dahl and Catryn brought him to the Domain. Catryn had led him
into their immense cavern. At the far end Norl had seen the Elders seated on a dais covered with a silver cloth: two men, incredibly ancient, and a woman who, though as ancient as they, carried her beauty within her. Ygrauld, Ronauld and Tauna were their names, but they were names known only to those who lived in the world of magic, and were never to be spoken aloud. It was Tauna who had leaned forward and taken both of Norl’s hands in her own. It was she who had told him that Mavahn of Taun was not his real mother, although he still thought of her as such.
Tauna had told him that from time to time the Elders had scoured other worlds, seeking for babes such as Catryn and himself. Babes who were born with gifts their worlds would deny—would persecute them for. They had found him, abandoned and unloved in his own world, and had given him into the care of the most worthy woman they knew in Taun until it was time for him to join them.
Standing beside the Elders, cloaked in brown, had been the Protector. As if sensing Norl’s fear and amazement, the Protector had reassured him. “You will learn well, my young friend,” he had said. And that was when he had made his promise: that Norl would fly, even as he once had. The Protector’s other form had been a hawk, fierce and strong, but Caulda’s son had burned him, all but killed him, and he had never flown again.
How confident Norl had been then that he would return to vanquish Caulda in triumph, that he would return to Mavahn as the saviour of Taun.
But he had betrayed their trust.
They will be glad to be rid of me.
He shook the memories, the lost hopes and visions, out of his head. Only when the portal was well and truly behind him did he allow himself to look over his shoulder again. The forest had closed in behind him, impenetrable, black and cold. He shivered.
He walked for most of the night, but when it began to rain he sought the shelter of a small depression in the hillside. As he huddled in the cramped space, he could not help but recall the vast caverns and caves of the Elders. He had never considered whether they were comfortable or not; he had taken the amenities with which he had been provided there for granted. Food had appeared, he had eaten. Hot pools provided welcome bathing places. Worn tunics were left out and replaced with clean ones in the morning. No servants trod those spaces. Magic alone served them there. Now, however, he had cause to rue their loss. He shifted slightly and a stream of icy rain poured down the back of his neck.