SEARCH FOR THE LOST SOUL (17 page)

Chris finished
the bowl and laid the platter aside, returning to his previous activity of
staring at the closed door and willing Dominic to appear.

Chris
estimated that the morning was more than half over before the apprentice
entered without knocking. Chris jumped up and grabbed his backpack. “I assume
we’re leaving now.”

Dominic
nodded but said nothing. Chris started to say something more but stopped when
he saw the fire flashing in Dominic’s eyes; he realized that the apprentice was
barely controlling a surge of fury. Silently, he hitched his backpack onto his
shoulders and followed Dominic down the stairs.

Kelly was
waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a thin man that Chris had never seen.
Kelly smiled as Chris approached but the other man scowled. “Are you all ready
to proceed?”

“Yes,”
replied Dominic sourly.

Chris
glanced at Kelly who merely shrugged. Chris frowned as he stared at Dominic’s
back, wondering what was wrong. He would be the first one to admit that the
apprentice wasn’t the happiest man in the world but the anger coming off the
man was almost palatable. If Terrill had delivered the promised charm and they
were being allowed to continue their journey, what could the problem be?

With long
strides the thin man, who wasn’t introduced to Chris, marched through the
castle and out from under the portcullis. As he crossed the drawbridge over the
moat Chris looked down, he had never discovered what was in that moat but now
he could see several of those fins swimming through the water. He shivered as
he looked away; surely Terrill wasn’t keeping sharks down there. He doubted
that they could live in those murky waters.

It was a
relief to step off the drawbridge and onto the rocky soil that surrounded the
castle. The thin man didn’t lessen his pace eve after they entered the forest.
Chris found himself hoping that the man knew where he was going, there were no
trails through the dense trees and he felt completely lost.

Kelly moved
closer to him. Chris smiled at her and took the hand she held out to him, giving
it a quick squeeze to reassure her. But, he could see from her tentative smile
that it didn’t help much. Not that he blamed her; he felt as if there were eyes
looking at him from the thick underbrush.

Chris was on
the verge of  suggesting that they stop for lunch when the thin man
abruptly halted. He turned and spoke rapidly to Dominic in German. Dominic
nodded curtly and ushered Chris and Kelly forward. Chris started to protest but
changed his mind when he saw the look in Dominic’s eyes; if anything, the
apprentice was even angrier than he had been earlier.

The thin man
remained where he was standing, watching them until they disappeared among the
trees. Dominic pushed them for another hour or so before allowing them to stop
to eat a quick lunch. As soon as they were eating, Chris looked up at Dominic.

“What is
going on?”

Dominic’s
eyes flashed angrily as he bit into a sandwich.

Chris
sighed. “Look, I know that something happened and I think we deserve to know
what. After all, it affects all of us.”

Dominic
looked from one to the other before laying the sandwich aside. “I do not
understand why Loren is friends with Terrill. The man is a pig. He wanted to
dissect the two of you to find his spellbook.”

Chris choked
on the piece of sandwich in his mouth. “Dissect. Why?”

“Because he
is certain that one of you must have it.”

Chris fought
the urge  to glance at Kelly, fearing that if he did so he would give her
away.

Dominic
sighed before continuing. “I was able to convince Terrill that you could not
possibly have his spellbook. you do not have magical powers and Kelly is unable
to access hers , therefore, it would have been impossible for you to get your
hands on it or to use it if you did. The spellbook had to have been removed
from the castle; otherwise, Terrill would have discovered its location. He
certainly cast enough spells to do so.

“He
practically threw that Angel Charm at me when I requested information
concerning it, screaming that this charm was all we were interested in, that we
were of no use to him in locating his lost spellbook. I pointed out that we
could not help while locked in our rooms. He ordered us to leave in the
morning, not that this upsets me, I am more than happy to leave that castle
behind.”

Chris stared
at the apprentice, surprised that they shared this attitude. As far as he had
been able to tell, Terrill’s attitude hadn't bothered Dominic. Chris shook his
head; perhaps part of learning magic was controlling one’s emotions. “And, what
about the man who left the castle with us?”

Dominic
shrugged. “He job was to escort us off the property and  make certain that
we did not return. Not that I would have. We have much more important things to
do than remain his guests.”

“And, what
about my sword?”

Dominic
didn’t look at him. “I have it in my backpack. I will give it to you as soon as
I am certain that no one from the castle is following us.”

Chris
frowned. “Why would that matter?”

Dominic
glared at him but didn’t answer him.

Chris fumed
as he raised the sandwich to his mouth. He glanced at Kelly; at the very first
opportunity, he had to convince her to get rid of that spellbook.

When they
stopped for lunch Dominic handed Chris a long bundle wrapped in a moth-eaten
woolen blanket before squatting on the ground and digging further into his
backpack for sandwiches. Chris unwrapped the bundle carefully, staring down at
the exposed sword in wonder.

For an
object that was as old as this one, it was in surprisingly good condition. The
blade gleamed in the sunlight, sending a beam of light around the small copse
as Chris twisted the sword. But, what captured his attention was the hilt.

The hilt was
covered in small, overlapping metal shingles, most of which had become
tarnished to the point where they could no longer be cleaned. Small gems of
various colors were pasted among the shingles in an obvious pattern that made
no sense to Chris.

The most
fascinating aspect of the hilt was the dozen or so unidentifiable bits and
pieces of what looked like the scales of some animal. These scales,
multicolored and shimmering with a light that seemed to emanate from somewhere
inside the hilt, appeared alive to Chris; he could swear they were breathing,
even though he knew it was impossible. He reached out and ran his finger gently
along one of the scales, surprised by the  smooth texture.

“Those are
the dragon scales of which I told you.”

Chris looked
up to see Dominic watching him, a slight smile on his lips. “I guess I have no
choice but to believe that this is proof of the existence of dragons.”

Dominic had
already turned his attention to the sandwich in his hand. “Bits and pieces of
dragons are all that we would ever be able to show you. There are no living
specimens remaining.”

Chris looked
down at the sword. “Am I to believe that the stories that I’ve heard of
dragons?”

Dominic
didn’t look up. “That depends on the story. Although I have never seen one, I
doubt that the depiction of dragons in movies are correct.”

Chris
sighed. “What were dragons like?”

“Fortunately,
I never had the opportunity to meet one. But, I have read many accounts of
those who have. My understanding is that at one time, there were millions of
dragons roaming the Earth. The loss of the occasional cow was all the trouble
they caused. They went out of their way to avoid contact with mankind.

“According
to my studies, most dragons were intelligent, compassionate beasts that wanted
nothing more than to be left alone on their mountain refuges.
It was the
rogue dragons that caused the problems mankind remembers. I have discovered
 only a few hundred documented cases of dragons that preyed on humans, but
those that did, struck such fear into the hearts of man that dragons were
hunted to extinction to prevent it from recurring.”

Chris gently
laid the sword across his knees and reached for the sandwich that Dominic had
laid at his feet, still wrapped in its waxed paper lining. “I would like to
hear some of these stories.”

Dominic
looked up and glared at him for a moment before speaking. “Dragons are not
something that you want to meet on a dark night. The largest one I know of was
more than one hundred meters long with a wingspan of more than three meters.
they had the ability to shoot flame for more than the length of their bodies
and the talons on their feet could shred a man in seconds.
There are
documented cases of dragons speaking to men, though that was rare.

“The ones
that caused problems were called rogues. Luckily, they were rare. Rogues would
typically chose a certain village, for whatever reason, and would demand a
maiden every two weeks or so. Only maidens from that village would satisfy the
creature. There are reported cases where town elders would kidnap maidens from
other villages to feed to the dragon but that would enrage the beast. It would
go on a rampage, in some instances destroying most of the village before its
anger abated. In every occasion, the town elders relented and gave the dragon
what it wanted.”

With
difficulty, Chris swallowed the bite of sandwich he had been chewing before
saying, “It doesn’t seem to me that one maiden every couple of weeks would
satisfy a creature that size.”

Dominic
shook his head. “Rogues also fed on cattle and deer or any other creature it
could capture. But, you can easily see the predicament the town elders would
find themselves in. there would be a finite number of maidens on which the
dragon would feed; eventually, there would be no maidens remaining. Especially
since the parents in these villages tended to watch their daughters closely and
arrange for them to lose their virginity as soon as they reached adulthood,
thus making them ineligible as dragon bait.”

Chris
nodded. “That makes perfect sense to me. A father would do anything to protect
his daughter.”

Dominic
smiled. “True. I believe that I would do the same if I was put into that
position. Regardless, these villages were easy target for such characters as
Jirairan. They were desperate for a solution to their problem and these dragon
killers took full advantage.

“There were
some dragon killers who were honorable, they did the job they were contracted
for and moved on, never to return. There is one, a man named Wrinfecodl, who
killed dragons for more than ninety years without accepting any payment other
than lodging and food for his journey.”

Chris
stopped chewing. “Ninety years! How could such an old man continue to fight
dragons?”

Dominic
smiled again. “Every few years Wrinfecodl would visit a sorcerer on the coast
of what is now Turkey. This sorcerer would heal all of his wounds and restore
his youth. The bargain was that, as long as he continued to serve mankind
without requesting payment, the sorcerer would continue to heal him. My
understanding is that Wrinfecodl was still a virgin when he died.
Unfortunately, a particularly disagreeable dragon they called Monstermouth put
an end to his life.”

Chris shook
his head. “I don’t understand how someone could dedicate his life to helping
others like that.”

Dominic
shrugged. “There have been a few such men throughout history, though they are
rare. But, in Wrinfecodl’s case, he was motivated by revenge against the
dragons. His sister was devoured by one of the beasts when he was fifteen. It
was shortly after that event that he climbed the mountain and slayed the beast
with a battered sword for which he traded the family’s two cows to the village
blacksmith.

“He returned
home for a hero’s welcome but did not remain long. He found the adulation
unbearable. He could not leave the family farm without all the marriageable
women accosting him with their desire to marry him. Women offered to have sex
with him without marriage, hoping for a child with the same  bravery that
he exhibited. The men in the village resented him because none of the women
wanted them. He left in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes he
was wearing.

“I
understand that he traveled across Europe for several years before he came
across another village that was terrorized by a dragon. He offered to slay the
beast. The village elders were reluctant to hire him; they had already hired a
local sorcerer to deal with the dragon. Wrinfecodl offered to assist the
sorcerer and they could pay him whatever they though he deserved when he
returned. The elders agreed, they had nothing to lose and figured that the boy
would die on the mountain.

“Wrinfecodl
discovered Grisenwer trapped in the dragon’s lair. Grisenwer had tried to
perform magic on the dragon, unfortunately, dragons were immune to magic. That
is why their body parts are so valuable; the immunity makes them powerful
components for potions and such.

“Wrinfecodl
slayed the dragon and rescued Grisenwer, but he was injured in the encounter
and thus began the partnership that continued for the remainder of Wrinfecodl’s
life. After Wrinfecodl’s death, Grisenwer retrieved the body and tried to
resurrect him. Unfortunately, he was unsuccessful, most likely because he
didn’t possess enough power to do so. Wrinfecodl was buried in a hero’s grave
on the coast near Grisenwer’s cave.

“For many
years afterward, young men came to the grave and removed dirt from it, hoping
that carrying a small amount would grant them the same valor that Wrinfecodl
had shown. when Grisenwer caught several men trying to dig up the body, he
disinterred it and reburied it in a secret location.”

Chris chewed
thoughtfully for several minutes before speaking again. “I hope you and Loren
aren’t thinking that I’m going to follow in this guy’s footsteps.”

Dominic
laughed. “There has not been a documented case of a dragon sighting in more
than nine hundred years. We have no need of a dragon killer.”

Chris
grunted. “Just so you know. I’m not the heroic type.”

Dominic eyed
him with no expression on his face but said nothing.

As they rose
to continue their journey, Dominic handed Chris a long, metal sheath. “What’s
this?”

“The
scabbard for the Dragon Sword,” Dominic answered as he hoisted his backpack
onto his right shoulder. “Slide it onto your belt through the loop at the top.”

“Through the
belt? In the movies, the fighter carries his sword strapped to his back.”

“Great skill
is required to draw a sword carried on the  back. You lack such skill,
therefore. your belt is the only logical spot.”

“Why didn’t
you carry the sword in the scabbard?” Chris asked as he undid his belt.

Dominic
shrugged. “I wanted you to see the sword without the scabbard. As you can see,
the scabbard is nothing special to look at.”

“True,”
Chris agreed. “Why is the blade so shiny when the rest of the sword is
tarnished?”

“That was
one of the characteristics of true swords.”

Chris had
slipped the scabbard onto his belt and refastened it. He slid the Dragon Sword
into the scabbard before looking up. “What do you mean, true swards?”

“True swords
are those that were made before the process was bastardized.”

“What?”

Dominic
sighed. “Questions, always questions.” He fell silent for a moment, waiting for
Chris to hoist his own backpack before turning and resuming their journey. He
waited until they had walked for several minutes before answering Chris’
question.

“In the days
before history was written down, swords were made by true artisans. These men
would gather the materials from which they crafted their swords with their own
hands. If you were to test the blade of the Dragon Sword, you would find that
it is not steel, even though it resembles that metal. I will not tell you the
name these practitioners called their metal, it would mean nothing to you.

“These
swordcrafters were true professionals. They made each sword specifically for
the person who requested it. But, not everyone who approached a swordcrafter
would receive a sword. It was said that these men had the talent of reading the
soul of a person and would only make a sword for those they felt deserved one.”

They walked
for some time in silence before Chris thought to ask his next question. “So,
what happened to these swordcrafters?”

Dominic gave
Chris a sidewise glance “As with most professions, greed intruded. For
thousands of years swordcrafters flourished. Many times these men did not have
apprentices. It is said that those who did accept apprentices would only accept
one who they felt would carry on the profession in the manner that they had
done.

“Because of
this, the craft was slowly dying out. Those who were in power realized that
they could not allow this to  happen so they began to pressure the
swordcrafters to take apprentices. According to one account, the local king
took the family of the swordcrafter hostage until he took an apprentice.

“As a result
of this practice, less honorable men began to infiltrate the craft. As the
older swordcrafters died out, the younger ones began to create swords for
anyone who could afford to pay their price. They could not raise their prices as
that would put swords out of the reach of most men and that would interfere
with their profits. The swordcrafters were soon the wealthiest men in their
village.

“The next
step was an obvious one. So that they could spend more time making swords, they
began to hire others to gather the necessary materials. Inevitably, less pure
materials were incorporated into the swords. Soon, no one remembered what the
original materials were.”

“ Why wasn’t
the—uhmm—recipe written down?”

Dominic
laughed. “At that time writing had not yet been invented. By the time mankind
had reached the stage where they could write things down, the recipe, as you
call it, was long forgotten. This is only one example of the countless
developments of mankind that were lost to time. Some of them were so wondrous
that you could not imagine their like.”

“And my
sword is one of those,” Chris breathed. “How is it that these dragon scales
were added to the hilt?”

Dominic
shook his head. “I do not know if you were not listening when I related the story
of Jirairan or if your memory is flawed. If you will recall the tale, during
Jirairan’s first encounter with a dragon, his sword was damaged. I believe that
it was only the hilt that was damaged as it almost impossible to damage the
blade of such a sword but I could not swear to it. When it was repaired, the
scales were incorporated to the hilt.”