Book III
She liked venturing down to the pond after class because it was the part of the capital that reminded her most of her parents' farm. Often she would spend the entire afternoon gazing at the water, occasionally tossing in a stone and watching the ripples spread out across the surface. Coming to this familiar sight helped relieve her homesickness, but at the same time it also highlighted how much she had changed since leaving her family. Before, the act of throwing rocks into the pond would have purely been a matter of enjoying the beautiful sounds and patterns it created. Now her head was filled with science that transformed the way she looked at everything. Her arm gave the energy of motion to the stone, which in turn transferred it to the infinitesimal particles of water as it sank through the pond, sending them flying away as it did so. Whatever energy it still possessed when it reach the floor of the pond would at last be imparted to the particles comprising its muddy bottom. Within seconds, there would be nothing to preserve the memory of the stone's journey. All its energy would have been lost to the random motion of particles moving about in a completely disorganized manner.
For the first time in many afternoons of coming down to the pond, the thought suddenly occurred to her that this motion was not completely random. If she could somehow reverse the direction of time, and then accomplish the seemingly easier feat of being able to see the motion of the miniscule particles that composed everything, she would at first see nothing out of the ordinary. The particles would be jostling about without any discernable pattern to their motion. Then, as if by some colossal coincidence, an unthinkable number of them would just happen to all push the stone resting on the pond floor back up toward the surface. As it rose, more and more particles would accidentally strike its underside, causing it to move ever faster until it was at last flung into the air where it would sail back into the hand that had tossed it. None of the players in this miracle would be aware of doing anything unnatural. Each particle would simply be following its own random path without any consideration for what its neighbors were doing. It would be a feat that broke none of the rules of logic, and yet would be completely beyond belief.
This thought amused her immensely, both from the comical images it created in her mind and from the simple pleasure of gaining a deeper understanding of the way the world around her worked. She continued finding stones and tossing them into the water until the sun set and it was time for dinner.
It was the first time any of them had returned to the village since the attack. Even Ira, the strongest among them, wept when he saw what had become of it. The houses, the barns, the fields--everything--had been burned to the ground so that only heaps of ash remained. They had been warned of the destruction that the dragon would cause, but they had all hoped that the stories were exaggerations of the truth. Now they saw that they had only been feeble attempts to describe a reality too terrible to be conveyed in words.
These men represented a small fraction of those villagers who had managed to take refuge in the caves, and they had been sent out to see whether the dragon had yet left the land. It was a considerable risk for anyone to come out of hiding so soon; the lessons handed down to them by their parents had warned them not to reveal themselves for at least a month after an attack. They were desperate, however, for the dragon had come so suddenly that they had been unable to bring a sufficient supply of provisions with them. Had they been prepared as they had been taught, then they would have already had ample food stored away. Complacency had brought them to this point, but then again, not even the wisest amongst them would have expected the dragon to come back so soon. It had been only twenty years since the last attack, which was less than half the time between any of its other recorded invasions.
The prospect of starvation had left most of them focused solely on surviving from one day to the next. Only a few took time to wonder as to whether this unusually short respite between appearances was an anomaly or something that they could now expect as the norm. The fear of having to face such a terror once in a lifetime was already a terrible thing with which to live, but now that they faced the possibility of seeing the dragon two or even three times before they died, the chore of rebuilding their village seemed almost pointless.
With no sign that the monster was still around, the men began digging through the ashes, trying to locate the cellars of houses that no longer had any presence above the ground. It was a morbid task, but they forced themselves to think only of finding what was necessary to live in the future and not about the lost treasures of the past. After several hours they had managed to find two cellars, both containing crates of dried fruits and meats. They were able to use these as reference points to determine where the other houses had stood and had just begun excavating a third site when they heard footsteps. There were several villages within a day's journey, and given that they were probably in a similar state as their own, it did not seem unlikely that scavengers might have ventured forth from one of them in hopes of finding food in someone else's abandoned homes.
Soon the intruders came into view. There were four of them, but the eyes of everyone were drawn to the one in front. He was a head taller than any of the other three, and although he was clothed in a simple tunic, he carried himself as if he were a prince. His features were perfectly formed, his strides were graceful yet powerful, and his eyes had a piercing intensity such that one could not look into them for more than a second without being overcome by feelings of overwhelming inadequacy. On his back was slung a sword whose hilt extended just above his head and whose blade came to within a foot of the ground. It must have been incredibly heavy, yet his movements betrayed no hint of a burden.
Ira walked up to them with his hand on the hilt of the sword hanging from his waste and asked, "What brings you to our village, strangers?"
The tall man answered, "I have come looking for help."
"As you can see for yourself, we are in dire need of help ourselves. But perhaps if we can find enough food buried among this wreckage, we might be able to spare some for you."
"It is not food that I need. I am looking for men to whom I can teach the secrets of being a swordsman. I have already found these," he gestured to the three men behind him as he said this, "all brave warriors. This is Asahel, next to him is Elika, and the third is Helez. And what is your name?"
"I am Ira."
"Ira, I can tell you are a brave man. Please join us."
"Why? What's your purpose?"
"I think you know that. There is only one enemy worth fighting."
"You can't be serious! If you were to gather every man on the continent, it would still be a force too weak to confront that beast."
"The dragon is powerful, but even it fears my blade. Let me train you and it will fear yours as well."
Ira looked toward his own companions who were standing dumbfounded behind him, too in awe to offer even a single word of advice. He then looked beyond them to the ashes that had once been his home.
"All right," he said, "take me with you."
The sand dunes fascinated Abar. They were like the mountains of his home, only with everything shrunk down both spatially and temporally. He had passed through here early on during his wanderings, and he knew that while the mountains surrounding his city had not moved an inch in all that time, here he faced a landscape that had been completely reshaped by the wind hundreds of times over since his last visit. Would it be possible to live in such a place? Building any sort of permanent structure seemed unfeasible since the very ground on which it would stand would drift away beneath it. Even if one could manage such a feat of engineering, finding it from one day to the next would be next to impossible with the ever-changing landmarks. One would be forced to drift with the winds just as the sands did. Perhaps this was why he had yet to encounter anyone in this region.
He was thankful for his solitude. For nearly six years he had been wandering the land, meeting people of various tribes and learning about their cultures. As far as the customs, foods, styles of dress, and mythologies of these peoples were concerned, Abar had been amazed at the unimaginable variety he had seen. In this regard his initial purpose of expanding his view of the world through his travels had been well met. Yet, in a deeper way he had also been left feeling disappointed. Everywhere he had gone he had been confronted by that same isolated, narrowly-focused perception of life that he had been trying to drive out of himself. It had manifested itself in countless petty feuds between neighboring tribes over resources that could easily have been traded for or shared. How much more could be achieved in the world if these battles were ended? Maybe people deserved their difficult lives if they were so unable to see beyond themselves.
As this last thought meandered through his head, Abar was reaching the peak of one of the dunes. He paused to survey the pattern of slowly shifting hills about him and was surprised to see something moving off in the distance. At first he figured it must just be a trick of the hot air playing with the light, but as he continued to watch, not only did the image persist, but it appeared to be moving directly toward him. Anxious to discover what it was, Abar began making his way toward it as well, losing sight of it until he reached the peak of the next dune several minutes later. Now it was unmistakably a man. It seemed odd that anyone should be journeying through this region; although, at the same time, he could not deny the existence of at least one person who was doing so. So why not one more?
He resumed walking toward him, continually losing and regaining sight of him as he traveled from dune to dune. There was little fear of losing him completely, for it was obvious that the other man was seeking him out as well. At last they met at the crest of one of the waves of sand. The stranger was very tall and dressed simply. He appeared to have no possessions other than the giant sword slung from his back that extended from above his head down almost to the ground. Despite his lack of provisions, he showed no signs of the thirst that would surely consume anyone who attempted to cross the desert without an ample supply of water. In fact, he bore himself with such an air of strength and vigor that Abar felt somewhat intimidated by his presence, even if there was no trace of malice in his eyes.
"Hello, Abar," said the man.
Coming across someone with whom to talk in this place was so unexpected that it took Abar a moment to be surprised at the fact that this stranger knew his name.
"Hello," replied Abar timidly.
"I'm glad to have met you. It looks like you may have lost your way,"
"Thank you, but I think I'll be all right. The desert's not that big. All I need to do is keep a straight course for a few days and I'll reach the edge of it soon enough."
"Yes but where are you going? 'Out of the desert' is hardly a destination."
"I don't know. I haven't really thought that far ahead yet."
"Well you certainly can't know the way if you don't even know where you're headed."
"What if there's nowhere in particular that I want to go?"
"If that were the case, then I suppose you wouldn't need any guidance. But you do have a goal in mind, don't you? You're troubled by all the needless suffering you've encountered on your journey. You want to end it."
"Only in the idle sort of way that everyone wants to save the world. I'm too grounded in reality to go chasing after impossibilities."
"But you don't really believe it's impossible, do you, because you've seen it. You've seen how the people of this land have been fractured into a myriad of little worlds, each operating without consideration for the others. You've seen how this cannot be allowed to persist. You've seen that you must unite them."
"Even if such a thing could be done, why should I be the one to do it? What makes you think that I'm even capable of it?"
"Whether or not you can do it is irrelevant. It is your task, so you must take it up." Then he handed him a book and added, "Maybe this will help."
Abar took the gift and studied it. The cover was solid black except for some gold lettering down the spine. They spelled out the words, "A Complete History of the Empire." Forgetting his manners and ignoring his companion, he opened the book and began skimming its pages. His first impression was that it was a collection of early myths, but as he kept reading he found that the stories suddenly took a bizarre twist. No, it had to be a joke. The stranger had given it to him as part of some sort of trick. But why would he go to all the trouble of tracking him down in the middle of this wasteland for such a stupid little game? Abar looked up to confront him about it, but found that while he had been reading, the stranger had started walking away and had already put several hundred yards between them.
"What is this?" Abar called out, waving the book above his head.
The stranger turned and shouted back in reply, "Keep reading. You'll figure it out soon enough."
It had been a quiet day in the village. In the intense summer heat, no one had had the energy for any extraneous talking or activities, but they had simply gone about their work trying to exert as little effort as possible. The weather had been kind to them so far that year, and the crops were all coming along nicely. Thus it was with a feeling of pleasant contentment that they retreated to the shade of their houses at midday. Most of them sat in their doorways munching on loaves of bread and slabs of cheese; for there was no natural shelter from the sun to be found in that open country, and yet it was too hot to stay indoors where one was completely cut off from the occasional breeze that might provide some little bit of relief.
This was the situation when the strangers arrived. Everyone could see the seven men as they approached, but weariness overcame curiosity and they just watched them lazily from their doorways as they walked down the main street. Then someone suddenly realized that one of them was not a stranger.
"Ira," he called out as he stood up, "you've come back!"
"Yes," said Ira, turning to the man who had addressed him. "Unfortunately we don't have time now to catch up. The dragon is coming."
At these words the other villagers, who had all been listening to the exchange from where they sat, rose and crowded toward the seven newcomers.
"But it's too soon! It's only been ten years," said a voice.
"Has it? It seems like so much longer," said Ira quietly, almost to himself. Then he continued in a louder voice, "Nevertheless, look over there."
He pointed out toward the southern sky. There they could see a dark shape moving through the air, too large to be anything but what he claimed.
"What shall we do?" cried a panicked man.
"You get yourselves to the caves. You'll be able to return by sundown--my friends and I will see to that."
"What are you planning to do?"
"We're going to drive it back into the jungle."
"But how?"
"Don't worry about that. Just get yourselves to the cave. Look, it's almost here."
The sight of how much closer the dragon had suddenly become caused the villagers to forget their questions and obey Ira's command. Soon they had all cleared out, leaving the seven warriors alone in the village. They walked out to the southernmost field and began to wait. There was no anxiousness in them as they stood there watching that hideous form grow ever larger in the sky. The last ten years of their lives had been spent in nearly constant preparation for this moment--there was nothing that could be done in these last few minutes that would change the outcome of what was about to take place.
At last the dragon set down in a field where several dozen cattle were grazing only about fifty yards away from the men. It paid no attention to the warriors, but instead was trying to pick out which cow was the fattest as they stampeded frantically away from it. Suddenly its powerful body uncoiled with an explosive start, sending its gaping jaw flying toward the chosen beast. Just as it was preparing to plunge its deadly fangs into the poor animal, it felt its body being stung all over by a series of sharp pricks, causing its head to involuntarily jerk back in a convulsion of pain. Instinctively it unfurled its wings and with a single powerful sweep propelled itself back, away from the source of the discomfort. As it landed it saw seven men standing before it with drawn swords. These would be dealt with easily enough. The dragon opened its mouth and forced out a blast of flames, consuming everything before it in fire and black smoke. Before the air had cleared, however, they were upon the beast again, hacking away with their weapons. The wounds they inflicted were not deep, but the fact that they could penetrate its thick scales at all caused the dragon some slight alarm. Only once before had it ever encountered a blade that could accomplish that feat.
It began swatting feverishly at its attackers but was unable to land a single blow. With every swipe at empty air, both its sense of panic and of agitation grew until it had worked itself into such a frenzy that it no longer sought out targets but merely lashed out wildly in whatever directions it could. All at once it stopped to gather its strength and then threw its entire body into such a powerful fit of writhing that the men were forced to withdraw out of its reach. As soon as it realized that the blows had ceased, the dragon spread its wings, and with several labored flaps managed to pull itself up into the air. When it was about twenty feet up a spasm in one of its wings caused it to crash back to the ground. Immediately it pushed itself back into the air with its arms and began flying once more. Despite several dangerous swoons along the way, this time it managed to lift itself to a safe height. As soon as they saw the dragon disappear over the southern horizon, the seven warriors set off to find the villagers in the caves where they had hidden themselves.
"It's gone," called out Ira once they had arrived. "It's safe to come out now."
Cautiously the villagers began emerging into the daylight.
"What happened?" asked one of them.
"The dragon came and we drove it off," answered Ira.
"Thank you, thank you," gushed another. "But you must tell us who these men are who helped you save our village."
"These are my friends who've been training with me all the time I was away: Asahel, Elika, Helez, Mebunnai, Ithai, and Igal."
"Drove it off?" asked a third villager. "That means it's still alive. It might come back."
Ira replied, "I don't think so. It's wounded and scared. And more importantly, it knows we can hurt it. It won't return as long as we remain vigilant."
"Thank you," said the man as he tossed a few coins onto the counter and accepted the full pint mug from the barkeeper.
An instant later he slammed the empty mug down and was calling for another. His hunt earlier that day had been quite successful and he had managed to collect a neat sum of money for the furs and meat. As soon as the sales had been completed he had come straight to the pub in order to convert his earnings into beer as quickly as possible. It was a pity that he could not just trade the spoils from his hunt directly with the barkeeper and save himself some time. The two pints were working to put him in a philosophical mood, causing him to reconsider this last thought and ask himself if saving time was something he really wanted to do. Time was actually the one commodity of which he had too much. Why else did he come here if not to disconnect his perceptions from the outside world and allow time to slip away without him? Half way through his third beer it occurred to him what a morbid purpose his life had acquired. Its sole aim was to burn itself away as painlessly as possible.
He frantically ordered another drink to help himself think this problem through. Surely there was more to living than that. What about the others in the village? They were not all drunks like him. What purpose motivated all those industrious farmers? It must be something truly important to drive them out of their beds and into their fields before the sun itself had awoken, and then not to give up their labor until long after it had decided to go to sleep. Yet what was the product of all that toil? Food to allow them to live and work another day. They lived only to keep themselves living. Admittedly, they also worked to feed their families as well, but all that did was perpetuate the cycle for another generation. Was there no other product of human existence than itself?
At this point he was finally beginning to suspect that no amount of drinking might be able to solve this philosophical conundrum. He needed to find some fresh air. As he rose from his stool he inexplicably stumbled, bumping into the man sitting next to him and causing him to spill his drink.
"Hey, watch where you're going," the man snarled at him.
"Sorry, it was an accident," he replied as he turned to walk away.
A hand reached up and grabbed his shoulder. "Where are you going? You can't leave until you buy me another beer."
"Let go of me," he said without turning.
"What are you gonna..." started the man before he was simultaneously forced to stop talking, stop holding onto the shoulder he had grabbed, and stop being conscious of the world around him.
The collapsed man's friends quickly rose with the belief that his honor could somehow be restored by roughing up his now greatly outnumbered assailant. They found this task much more difficult than they had expected, for the man who had knocked out their friend was now setting into them with great ferocity. Two of them eventually managed to grab his arms so that the others could beat on him unimpeded, but he was quickly able to break free and the melee resumed. All this time there was one other patron of the bar who was watching the battle with great interest as he calmly sipped at his beer. The combatants had no way of knowing that this silent observer was the most powerful man on the continent. He was Abar, the head of the newly formed confederation of states.
After the fracas had been going for several minutes with neither side gaining any clear advantage, Abar rose and walked toward the brawl. He then pulled a small sack from his belt and tossed it so that it landed on the floor between the man and the mob that was pressing down on him. Startled by this unexpected occurrence, all the parties involved suddenly stopped and stared at this new arrival.
"What's in the bag?" asked one of them.
"It's a peace offering for you," answered Abar, "Its contents are yours. I just ask that you might consider letting that man go. I think you've done enough to him already."
The nearest man reached down and picked it up. As he opened it his eyes shot as wide open as they were physically capable.
"I've never seen so much gold," he exclaimed.
"Now why don't you buy yourselves a round of drinks and let that man be?" suggested Abar.
They quickly redirected themselves to swarm the bar and began shouting out orders. This whole time the man whom Abar had just saved had been watching in a state of shocked disbelief.
"Would you like to join me at my table?" asked Abar.
The man hesitated for a moment and then answered weakly, "Sure."
After they had been seated, Abar was the first to talk. "You don't belong here,"
"Who are you?" the other asked as if he had not heard Abar's statement.
"My name is Abar. I've been trying to track you down for some time now, you know. I'm so glad that I finally found you."
"How do you know who I am?"
"That's not important. All that matters is that I do know who you are...perhaps even better than you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Your father was the one who trained you how to fight, wasn't he? Do you know why he did that? Do you know why a warrior with skills as great as his was living in such an insignificant village as this?"
"No. Are you saying that you do?"
"A long time ago, many years before either of us was born, there were seven great warriors. They freed the continent from a great evil, and out of gratitude, many people turned to them to set them up as their kings. Each of them amassed great wealth and vast territories to rule over. After some time one of them, Elika, grew weary of his duties as a king and sought out a quieter place. He ended up in this village and lived out the rest of his days here. Even though he had given up his rule, still he felt obligated to teach his children the secret arts of combat he had learned, for the evil he and his comrades had defeated had not been destroyed but only slept. Even today it awaits a time when the land is weak enough for it to invade. I believe you are Elika's descendent and thus one of the few who possess the skills to keep this continent safe."
"Me? Are you sure you've got the right guy?"
"It was your father who trained you to fight like that, right? Without knowing it, you have inherited the secrets of one of the greatest warriors ever alive."
"If you want to believe that, it's fine with me. You going to pay me to teach you how to fight?"
"More than that. I have been seeking out the descendents of each of those seven warriors in order to form the elite core of the army of the new confederation. It will be your duty to help train the other soldiers."
"Why should I want to join you?"
"Why should you want to stay here?"
The man thought for two full minutes while Abar watched him patiently. At last he answered, "You're right. I'm in."
"Thank you. By the way, your father didn't happen to pass on a sword to you did he? A special sword that only you are able to draw?"
"No, my father didn't own any swords."
"Then they are all lost."
Strong winds carried a thick sheet of clouds across the face of the full moon, only occasionally providing a hole through which light could reach the city of Hamor below. In all but a few of the buildings, the lamps had already been extinguished, leaving the streets blanketed by a heavy darkness. As the lights in one more of them went out, three men emerged from it carrying torches.
"We thank you for your proposition, Abar. It's most interesting," said one of the men.
"You'll discuss it with the other leaders and let me know by the end of the day tomorrow, will you?" replied Abar.
"Yes of course. Can you find your way back to the inn?"
"Yes, I believe so. I wouldn't want to keep you two up any later than I already have. Goodnight," said Abar as he then proceeded to walk away by himself down the street.
The other two men walked off together in the opposite direction. They did not engage in any conversation until they were sure that Abar was out of earshot.
"That's some idea he has about uniting the entire continent. Maybe a bit ambitious, but if it works I think we could all really benefit from it. What was your impression?"
"I think you've let yourself be fooled by the sweet-sounding promises of a man whose only goal is to increase his own wealth and power at our expense."
"I don't know. He seemed honest enough to me. It sounds like it's already been bringing in money to those who've joined, so why shouldn't it do the same for us? Besides, if we feel we're being cheated, there's no reason we couldn't leave the confederation."
"Once we're in, he might force us to stay."
"But then why not just sweep down with his army now and take what he wants? Why bother with all these charades about alliances?"
"Because he hasn't consolidated enough power yet. With each new state that joins him, his army grows that much stronger. He needs to be stopped now."
"Wait, are you suggesting that we declare war on him?"
"Of course it would be foolish to engage him in a direct war even now. We'll need to launch raids--small but relentless--so that he can't trace them back to us. We'll make things so burdensome for him around here that he'll be forced to keep his confederation as far away as possible."
"But what if he does trace them back to us. Our city will be destroyed."
"This plan is not my own. I think we risk far more by disobeying the one who gave it to me than we do by angering Abar."
As he said this the man looked up toward the sky, with his companion following his eyes upward. Just then a gap in the clouds passed in front of the moon, and the silhouette of a gigantic winged creature could be seen moving across its face.
Then Abar assembled the army of the Empire. Never before had such a force been gathered, so vast that the number of men was not counted. He led them against Hamor, the city of bandits, down in the province of Yailt. Defiantly they stood within those thick walls that had never been penetrated, but Abar's wrath could not be averted. He sent the full weight of his army crashing against them, wave after wave, until at last those stones crumbled beneath his might. Still his rage had not been satisfied, and Abar continued his unrelenting attack against the now defenseless city until there was nothing left to destroy.
Abar slammed the book shut on his table, unable to read any more. Only an hour before, soldiers from the southern garrison had returned to report that the raids were indeed originating from Hamor, confirming the prediction of this passage that he had first read several days ago. The book had already proven itself so many times before that he had not doubted its accuracy, but still he had held onto the hope that this time it might fail so that the latter part might remain unfulfilled.
What was he to do now? On the one hand he knew that he would inevitably lead his army to brutally destroy Hamor, but on the other he was equally confident that he was incapable of such a merciless act. He had not used the threat of military intimidation to force anyone to join his Empire for the reason that he had not wanted anyone's body at the cost of leaving behind their mind. What good could be achieved by employing such tactics now? He felt trapped by the words of the book. It was unfair that he should be compelled to act against his conscience--to do something for which he knew he would be condemned. Could he be condemned? The actions that the book said he would commit were certainly reprehensible, but if it was not his decision, could he still be held responsible?
But it was his decision. It was not a book of laws but of history, even if most of that history had not yet happened. It had been given as an aid, not as a set of shackles to bind him to its will. In this instance he did not find it useful so he would ignore it. Never had he sworn to accept the responsibility of ensuring that all its prophecies would come to pass. All he could be expected to do was what he felt was the right thing and leave whoever the author was, if he was even still alive, to worry about the accuracy of his work. He would assemble the army, but he would not use it in violence. Instead he would make an offer of peace. Perhaps the leaders of Hamor were even unaware of the presence of bandits in their city. Whatever the case, he would find the source of the problem and deal with it peacefully.
Only five more repetitions left, Aachen told himself, and then he would be able to rest. He took a moment to wipe the sweat out of his eyes and brush his bright-red hair off his face. This temporarily relieved his discomfort, but soon the saturated mass of hair had fallen back across his forehead and was once more dripping sweat into his eyes and making them burn. Before he had recovered from the last repetition, the instructor shouted out the command and Aachen forced himself to execute another swing of his staff. Then he attempted to hold his weapon level, but the two pound bracelets on either wrist now felt as if they weighed at least ten times that amount. He looked quickly back and forth at the students on either side of him to see if he could gain any moral support from their shared suffering. Instead, what confidence he still had was shattered as he found both of them holding their staves as coolly as if it were the easiest thing in the world. The instructor gave the next command, but this time Aachen did not move. Swinging that thick shaft of wood was too much for the rapidly dwindling strength left in his arms, so he lowered his goal simply to being able to keep his staff in the air while the others completed the exercise. By the time the instructor shouted out again, however, even this objective seemed as if it might be unobtainable. All he had to do was let go and the terrible burning in his arms would disappear. Relief was so tantalizingly close, what kept him from just accepting it? Unable to think of an answer, he fell to one knee, at the same time letting his staff slip out of his hands.
"Aachen, what are you doing?" growled the instructor in a tone that made his disapproval quite apparent.
"Sorry sir," Aachen gasped back, "I just couldn't keep going."
"You couldn't keep your staff up for two more repetitions? How do you expect to get any stronger if you don't push yourself?"
Aachen looked around nervously at the other students who were now all staring angrily at him. This interruption had forced them to continue holding up their own staves, prolonging the torture of the training session.
"I don't know sir. I'm trying."
"All right, I don't have any more time to waste with you right now. You can stay after and give me a fresh set of reps. The rest of you, let's finish up."
As the others completed their final two repetitions, Aachen kept his head down, as if by ignoring them he might be able to force them to ignore him as well. He had joined the academy to learn how to become stronger, but despite the months of agonizing training, none of this was becoming any easier. Growing up he had marveled at the stories of the elite soldiers and their almost mythical feats. He had longed to learn their secrets, but so far it was only endless hours of tedious drills to train his body. Perhaps those stories were only myths. Perhaps there was no secret power to be learned.
After his classmates were gone and he had recovered some of his strength, the instructor allowed him to remove his weighted bracelets before completing the additional ten repetitions. Then he was permitted to leave, and he walked out of the training hall as fast as his sore body would let him. He had only gone about a hundred feet before he was forced to collapse onto the nearest doorstep to rest. While the pain in his legs slowly dissipated, a man in a solid black robe walked up to him. The hood was pulled so far over his face that Aachen could not tell whether or not he knew him.
"Hello young man," said the stranger. "Just come from the training hall, have you?"
The voice was unfamiliar, making Aachen somewhat nervous as he replied, "Yes, I have."
"You look as if you might be able to use something to eat. Here, try this."
Aachen accepted the hunk of bread that was being offered to him and after a quick "Thank you," began nibbling at it cautiously. The pleasure of the first few bites reminded him that he had not eaten for several hours, and he soon began devouring it with greater enthusiasm.
"With an appetite like that, you'll soon be a fine young soldier," continued the stranger.
The food in his stomach had restored Aachen's spirit and he was now feeling much less apprehensive about his new companion. "Well, I'm not so sure about that. The others all seem to be so much stronger than me. They might not even graduate me."
"Do you want to be a soldier?"
"Well yes. I've wanted that ever since I was a little boy, but the training is just too difficult."
"There are more ways to grow strong than simply training."
"What do you mean?"
"I have a master who's very powerful, and he's more than happy to share some of that power with others--especially with those who are willing to help him out in return."
"Master? Who's your master?"
"I think maybe you've heard of him. Have you been told the stories of the great power that dwells in the southern jungle?"
"Yes, when I was much younger. Something about a terrible creature that lives there. But they're just stories. They aren't true, are they?"
"If you'd like me to show you, then you can see for yourself."
Despite the steady growth of the population of the Empire over the course of its history, there were still long stretches of unpopulated land along the main road running south from the capital. This, as the councilor from Yailt was now discovering, could make for rather tedious trips. Whose idea was it to put a mirror inside the carriage? Traveling by himself was bad enough, but having to stare at his own face while he did so made it almost unbearable. How funny that he should be such a poor traveling companion that he would prefer journeying alone to having himself for company. He looked down from the mirror to the stack of papers on his lap. Unfortunately, he had already read through his notes from the last council meeting so many times that they had become almost as predictable and mind-numbing as the sight of his reflection. Perhaps he could climb out and ride with the driver. The memory of his last conversation with that man quickly put that idea out of his head. It made him realize that he had been too harsh in his judgment of his own value as a traveling companion. Well, there was nothing to it but to lie down and try to sleep away the time. The bench on which he sat was quite comfortable and he was beginning to feel a bit tired anyway. Just then the carriage experienced a violent jolt accompanied by a loud crack. The councilor found that the carriage had come to a rest and that his bench was no longer sitting level to the ground. A moment later one of the doors was opened and his driver poked his head inside.
"Sorry about that, sir. I didn't see what it was, but we must have run over something hard that caused the left wheel to split. If I'm judging our position correctly, there's a town not too far off that I could run to where I should be able to buy a new one."
"Well I guess we don't have any choice," replied the councilor. "Do you need me to come with you?"
"No sir, you can just wait here. It shouldn't be more than an hour."
"Very good."
With that the driver disappeared and the councilor began trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. The angle of the bench was not too severe, so it was not long before he had settled down and begun to doze. Unfortunately, his nap was soon interrupted as the door of the carriage was opened once more.
"What did you forget..." started the councilor, expecting to see his driver's face. Instead he saw a man whose face was hidden by the hood of his black cloak, prompting him to redirect the course of his question by asking, "Who are you?"
"I am a messenger," the figure replied in a voice that for some reason made the councilor feel more than a little uncomfortable. "My master has been watching the Empire and he believes it has become too burdensome for its citizens. It is becoming a nuisance to him as well."
"And what does your master want me to do about it?" the councilor asked defiantly, demanding the intruder to justify his presence there.
Despite the harshness of the question, the stranger's voice remained cool and friendly as he replied, "He has no orders for you. He only wishes me to let you know that should actions be taken against the Empire, they would have his full support."
"Actions against the Empire? Are you suggesting that I start an insurrection? Give your master my thanks for his offer, but tell him that I have no desire to overthrow the government."
"It's been well over four hundred years since the Empire was created, and by this point it's already served its purpose. Trade routes have been established across the continent and the people have been united under the common goal of mutual survival. Do you think those roads will suddenly disappear if the emperor should be deposed? Do you think the people will suddenly forget about cooperation and fall back into the bickering of the past? The only purpose the Empire still serves is to make the emperor even richer than he already is. The people have learned the value of unity. Now it's time for them to learn the value of freedom."
"And why have you come to me about this?" replied the councilor, the anger in his voice beginning to lose its sincerity.
"Because there is nothing that I have told you that you have not already thought before yourself."
"That's not true! Perhaps I've complained once or twice that we've fallen too much in love with tradition--that sometimes the Empire seems more concerned with preserving itself than with preserving its people. But I could never act against the emperor."
"Why not? It is the people you serve, is it not? If the emperor has stopped serving them as well, then why should he be allowed to continue to rule?"
The councilor remained silent. He knew this stranger's arguments were faulty, but every time he began to open his mouth to reply, he realized that he did not believe his own rebuttals. Could it be that this man was right?
The stranger continued, "It is only fear that holds the Empire together. No one wants it any more, but no one has the courage to face the world without it. All they need is a catalyst--someone to make them believe that their dream of a free world isn't crazy. If you doubt what I'm saying, then ask around and you'll soon find yourself surrounded by people who are eager to see the end of the Empire."
"But why me? Why doesn't your master take care of this himself?"
"My master likes his privacy, and so he prefers avoiding direct involvement. But don't worry, you will have all the help you will need. Pay attention to your fellow councilors--there are others who see things as you do."
"Where can I find you if I need help? Where does your master live? Are there more of you? Does he have an army?"
"Yes, there are more of us. My master has servants throughout the Empire acting as his eyes in this realm. As for himself, he lives beyond the southern border. If the need should arise, though, be assured that he will send whatever support you might require."
"Beyond the southern border? But there's nothing there but the jungle. No one lives there!"
"As I said, he likes his privacy. Now I have other errands that I must see to, so I'll wish you luck and be on my way."
Then the councilor was once more left alone in the cabin. The cryptic conversation in which he had just been engaged had so riled up his mind that he was now no longer able to fall asleep. Instead he tried to make some sense of the deluge of questions that was pouring through his head. Who was that man? Who was his master? Was overthrowing the Empire actually possible? How could he begin such a task? Whom could he trust to bring into this venture with him? Slowly his confused answers began to coalesce into something that resembled a rudimentary plan. The local leaders of Yailt had always thought of the emperor as meddling too much with their affairs. He would start with them. Then there was one other councilor whom he was fairly confident would be sympathetic to the notion of revolt. If the stranger was right, then he would soon be able to find others as well. With the next immediate steps planned out, the councilor began feeling more at ease. He lay down again to make another attempt at a nap, and within a few minutes he was out. His last thoughts before sleep overtook him were how strange it was that he had not noticed until just now how tarnished the silver coating of his mirror had become.
A cool breeze swept through the open country into the trees along the outer fringes, causing some of the lighter branches to rattle. Then it was gone and the jungle settled back into its usual state of utter stillness. There it might sit for months on end without betraying any visible signs of life. Yet hidden deep within its darkness was a greater variety of animal species than could be found in all the lands to the north combined. For them the jungle was a paradise in which food was always plentiful, so they never had reason to venture outside into that barren world in which the humans dwelt. Curiosity, however, is a trait that is not peculiar to man.
On this particular day a band of monkeys had happened to travel right up to the jungle's northern edge while foraging for fruit. One of them peered out into the bright sunlight of the outer world, and there it saw something that, for whatever reasons anything might interest a monkey, absolutely fascinated it. Eagerly it darted out from the trees and ran up the side of the large pile of stones that had caught its attention. At first its companions held back and watched, wanting to assure themselves that there was nothing dangerous out there before leaving the shelter of their familiar trees. However, the other monkey was dancing up and down the rocks with such obvious glee, that they quickly found themselves being drawn out to join it.
It was a truly impressive structure, stretching off in a line to the east and west as far as they could see. The individual rocks were each as large as the monkeys themselves and were heaped to a height that rivaled some of the shorter trees. Being completely ignorant of human affairs, the monkeys had no way of realizing the significance of their new playground. The number of men Abar had employed to build it and the number of years that had been consumed in its construction were of no consequence to them. They did not understand the complex political justifications behind Kathryn's decision to disband the army. Nor had any of them been around to watch how, with no one to maintain it, the once mighty wall had gradually worn away over the years into the massive pile of rubble about which they were now scurrying. To them it was simply a novelty. The rough texture of the worn rocks was so different from that of the trees in which they usually climbed that it was a delight for them to feel it against their skin. This added to their amusement as they chased each other through the maze of gaps between the fallen stones. For some time this strange structure absorbed all of their attention, but in less than an hour they would return to the jungle and the effects of the Empire's collapse would never again be felt in their lives.
It amused Abar how easy it was for him to walk through the streets of his capital without anyone recognizing him. Although he guessed that everyone he passed had seen their emperor at some point in their life, most of them had only done so with their views somewhat obstructed by rather large crowds of people. Even those who had been fortunate enough to have ever found themselves at the front of one of those crowds would have been paying more attention to his elaborate robes than to his face. To see their emperor walking amongst them in such ordinary clothes was so unimaginable that they would never think to connect him with the man who ruled over the entire continent, regardless of how familiar his face might appear.
Still, it should not have seemed so unusual to them that he would want to take the occasional walk through one of the many gardens scattered throughout the city. He was, after all, the one who had ordered their construction. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath of air that was saturated with the sweet scent of flowers. How simple it was, merely by planting a few seeds, to transform the mundane into a realm of magic. He opened his eyes again to enjoy the array of brightly colored blossoms surrounding him. The joy imparted to him by this display carried with it a twinge of regret at the thought that he might never be able to return to the land where he had first discovered these flowers. His responsibilities as emperor kept him confined almost year round to the capital, and he often missed the days when he had been free to wander throughout the continent at will. This was why he had brought his favorite pieces of it back here where he could visit them any time he wished.
"Have you seen what he's done to the main hall of his palace?" he heard a voice behind him ask.
"Yes, it's simply fantastic, isn't it?" replied another.
The first voice answered, "I don't know. Seems like a bit of a waste to me. Just think of how much all that silver must be worth! It's hard not to imagine that there might be some better uses for it."
"Yes, but a ruler like that needs to command a certain amount of dignity. We can't have our emperor living in some common house--it would make us all look bad. Besides, it's not as if even all that wealth would make a difference in our lives. If all of it were distributed evenly amongst the entire population, I bet we'd each end up with barely a single speck of silver dust."
"Maybe, but the way he's got that hall decked out now just seems ostentatious to me."
Abar did not even bother looking up at the two as they walked by. The accusations that had been made were all ones with which he agreed himself, which made it particularly vexing to have to listen to them. He had already thought of a dozen ways in which that silver could be put to better use rather than standing on display in his palace's main hall. At the same time, the book had already demonstrated that it should not be ignored.
A solitary figure made his way through the jungle. Overhead the sky was completely blocked out by the leaves, keeping the jungle floor shrouded in perpetual shadow and making the figure nearly invisible in his solid black robe. As he entered the clearing he pulled his hood even tighter over his head to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness of the sun. It was here, confronted by the warmth of the light, that a shiver first ran through his body. He immediately scolded himself for the irrational fear that had caused it. His master had not actually been seen by anyone for generations, only speaking with his servants from deep within his cave. The idea of him choosing this one particular day to emerge and devour the one standing before him was childish. Even if he did, what did it matter? His master had the power at any time to turn the entire continent into ash, and therefore it was his domain to do with as he saw fit. Only through his restraint did any man retain his life, so every man's life belonged to him. To ignore this fact was simply an act of arrogance.
Slowly the man climbed the hill that filled the clearing. He stopped just outside the ring of stone pillars that stood guard over the hill's summit and knelt down.
"Master," he said, addressing the endless darkness of the pit in the center of the ring, "I have come as you requested."
"Good, Horace," replied a deep, oily voice that sounded exactly as one might imagine a giant serpent to sound. "I have a mission for you. You are to travel north to Glendan. There you shall be elected as that state's representative to the council of the Republic. I have other servants there who will help you acquire the necessary votes. Now that the border is unguarded we shall have no difficulty with keeping in contact through my messengers. Gradually others will join you on the council until the entire government is mine to control. Do you understand, Horace?"
"Yes, my master. But won't I be detected once I enter the capital."
"No. I have already seen to it that all the silver has been removed. There will be nothing to give you away."
The man contemplated waking up his son simply so that he would have someone to talk to. The two of them were traveling to the capital of the Republic to sell their hand-carved wooden ornaments. People there were always willing to pay far more for their work than were those in the more provincial region where they lived, so this trip was always a rather lucrative one. For the past month he and his son had been talking about how foolish it was for them to make the journey so infrequently, and eventually had set out to undertake it once again. It was this stretch of road that reminded him why they allowed so many years to pass between visits to the capital, regardless of how much money those trips could bring them. These endless plains so dulled the mind with their monotony that it was difficult to imagine a worse form of torture.
His entertainment for the last hour had been watching a building take shape as they approached it. He had first noticed it as an unidentifiable blob on the horizon, but now he could not only tell that it was a building, but he recognized it as having the shape of an inn as well. What was the shape of an inn? It was only that bit of optimism that had somehow managed to survive the onslaught of boredom that told him it might be a place to rest. After a few more miles he saw that it was, after all, an inn, as indicated by the sign hanging over the front door. He steered the wagon right up to the building and roused his son, who had been dozing on the seat next to him. They waited for a couple minutes for someone to take their horses, but no one came. Then they drove around to the back to find the stables. When they did, they were surprised to see that they were deserted. The gate had been left unlocked, however, so they unharnessed their horses and tied them up inside. Walking back around to the front door, they began to wonder whether the entire place had been abandoned. This suspicion seemed to be confirmed as they entered. It was absolutely silent and quite dark as well, the only light being the little bit from outside that made it through the slit-like windows.
The boy let out a sharp cry as he felt something brush by his leg. Then they both found themselves jumping as an unfamiliar voice addressed them.
"Don't mind that. It's just the rats."
They turned toward the direction from which the voice had come and saw the silhouette of a man sitting behind a long wooden bar.
"Hello there," started the father without walking any closer. "We were beginning to think that no one was here."
"You were almost right," replied the man, whose features were becoming more distinct as their eyes adjusted to the dim light. "It's just me. Unless, of course, you count the rats. Then this place is just full of life."
"Do you still rent rooms? Do you have anything to eat?" asked the father. "We've been on the road a long time and need a rest."
"You're welcome to rent a room if you like. Although, I'd have to warn you that you won't find the beds very comfortable. Most of the mattresses have rats' nests in them. As for food, all we got is some dried meat that's tough enough to crack your teeth. It's the only stuff in this place that the rats won't touch."
"Well this inn of yours could certainly stand a bit of improvement!"
"Oh, it's not mine. I'm just the caretaker. The owners are a young man and woman--brother and sister--who are probably off in the capital now. They don't care much for this place. They've become all tied up with some new business venture of theirs. I used to work for their father, who was the one that handed this place down to them, so they kept me on to look after it whenever they should happen to be on the road, which is most of the time. The problem is that one man can't take care of a place this size by himself. If they'd at least left me with a couple of cats to take care of the rats, then maybe I could do something with it."
"It might take more than a couple cats," remarked the father as he felt something scurry across his foot.
"You may be right. All it takes is a little vigilance to keep them out, but once they've moved in, you can't get rid of them. Back under the previous owner we never had this sort of problem. He wouldn't tolerate anything but total cleanliness."
The two travelers both desperately wanted to leave, but they found it difficult to extricate themselves from their conversation with the caretaker. He obviously received very few visitors, which had made him quite eager to talk to any willing listeners he could find. For another half hour they endured him describing in great detail the former glory of that inn. He told them of its long history that extended back to the Empire days, of the food that had been without rival anywhere in the Republic, of the people that had come from all over just to sample the fine hospitality, and of the ceaseless activity with which those walls had been filled. At last their impatience overcame any sense of charity they felt toward the poor man and they decided to make their escape.
"Well we have a long journey ahead of us and really can't afford to be delayed any longer," said the father interrupting the man in mid-sentence. He continued on without breathing, lest the man should try to return the favor by breaking in on this attempted farewell, "It was a pleasure meeting you."
With that, they were out the door, running to the stable to fetch their horses. Not more than two minutes later they were continuing south through the empty land.
Even though the sun had set, it was still uncomfortably hot. The air was so saturated with moisture that merely standing in it was enough to cause one's skin to become covered with sweat. A long, disorganized line of men was making its way back toward the city of Hamor from the surrounding countryside. Most of them were too weary from a hard day of work to talk, but two men lagging behind the others were engaged in an intense conversation.
"I don't care what you say, I'm still proud of the work I've done today."
"Ah...you're a fool who'll buy any piece of propaganda that's fed to him."
"Well I don't see how you have any claim to pass judgment on me. You were out there breaking your back loading carts every bit as much as I was."
"Only because I didn't have a choice. Who would hire a worker that refused a direct order from the council of the Republic? I have my ideals, but I'm not about to let myself and my family starve for them."
"But your ideals tell you it's more noble to let other families starve when you have enough food to share?"
"Look, I told you before that I have no problem helping out the northern states. I just don't like it being used as an excuse for the council to take away our rights."
"Well how else should they go about helping the northern states, then?"
"I don't know. There's plenty of ways to feed the poor without having to rob from the rich. Hey, you know what would make this discussion go much more smoothly? Beer. I know a great pub in a small village not ten minutes from here."
"It's getting kind of late. Why don't we just head back into the city?"
"Because a pint will cost you twice as much there as it will at this place I know. Come on. You may be a bit of a sap, but you're all right. Why let me buy you one drink in the city when I could buy you two someplace else?"
"Well, when you put it that way..."
As predicted, the conversation was flowing much more smoothly an hour later after they had each consumed more pints than either of them could remember. They had come to the conclusion that the real culprit was neither of them, nor even the council, but the weather. If the clouds had just done their job and provided rain like they were supposed to, this problem would never have arisen in the first place. The council would not have been put in the awkward position of having to suspend the rights of the southern states and the good people of Hamor would not have been forced to spend a day doing such onerous labor in such stifling heat. This prompted them to make the further conclusion that the weather should also be held accountable for always making it so hot for them in the first place. Why should some be given nice cool temperatures, or even snow, while they were forced to suffer day after day in the oppressive heat? Clearly this was a case of unequal treatment that rivaled all others.
They had just begun working out their strategy to exact retribution on the weather when they were informed that the pub was closing and that they should start making their way home. Their conversation continued on enthusiastically as they set out back toward the city, but about a half hour later their minds had cleared enough for them to realize that they had set out in the wrong direction. Somehow they had managed to work their way around past their destination so that it now lay to the north of them. It was an eerie feeling to realize that they were beyond the border of civilization and that there were no towns standing between them and the jungle. They began their trek homeward in silence for fear of arousing some sleeping evil, but it did not take long for their courage to return, and with it, their gregariousness. As they approached the limits of the city, however, they saw something that caused them suddenly to forget their conversation again. There was a convoy of about a dozen wagons headed into the city that had arrived from the same direction as they had.
"Thank you, and have a safe journey back," said the mayor of Hamor as the door to his study closed.
His desk was cluttered with papers each requiring his attention, but he knew that none of them was more important than the one that had just been handed to him. The messenger had already described the contents of it, relaying to him as well some of the details of the brief debate that had been carried out before the council had passed the resolution. Sending aid to those who had been struck by the drought in the northern half of the Republic seemed like a reasonable measure to him, but it worried him that the councilor from his own state had voted against it. Perhaps he was just trying to gain favor with the people who had elected him. The bill had been in no danger of being rejected, so it was actually quite possible that he had been in favor of it but was simply uncertain of the reaction it would receive at home. What really made the mayor feel uneasy was that the councilor from Glendan had also voted against it, since his state had been one of those hardest hit by the drought. Was there some angle to this issue that he was missing?
These thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his door. It opened before he could respond and two men wearing black robes walked in. As they entered they pulled back their hoods, but he did not recognize either face. He waited for them to introduce themselves, but they just stood before his desk staring at him silently. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, the mayor at last took the initiative.
"May I help you?" he asked.
The men smiled and one of them answered, "It is we who are here to help you, but first let me say how sorry we both are about this new resolution the council has passed. It is truly most unfortunate."
"Why?" asked the mayor. "The people of Hamor will be only too happy to help their northern neighbors."
"Of course," answered the same man who had spoken before. "That is the real tragedy of the situation--that the council had so little faith in the good will of the people that they felt it necessary to compel them by law to help their neighbors. The result is the same either way, I suppose, but that is only a deception to hide what is really happening."
"And what is really happening?" asked the mayor incredulously.
"The council is trying to complete what Abar I left only half done. They want to abolish the power of the individual and the state and take it all for themselves. It starts subtly, of course, for they want to complete the transformation without anyone noticing. But your people have noticed. Already talk of rebellion is growing amongst them."
"I'm aware of what's going on in my own state, but what you haven't told me yet is your business here."
"Our master is not interested in seeing the tyranny of the Empire sweep across this land again. Anyone who would take a stand against this disturbing trend would receive his support."
"We're just one city. What sort of support would he be able..."
The mayor cut himself short as he realized the significance of the question he had been about to ask. Never had the thought of turning against the Republic entered his mind, but there was something about this stranger's words that made him feel as if, deep down, it had been something for which he had been longing for years. The stranger continued as if the mayor had finished his question.
"Whatever you needed--food, rifles, ammunition. We could begin shipping them tonight, if you so desired."
"Yes, well I haven't agreed to anything yet."
"Of course. A matter such as this shouldn't be entered into lightly. We only wished to let you know that if you chose to fight the council then you would not be alone in your battle. You're clearly a busy man, so we'll leave you now so you can get on to your other duties. We'll be in touch again shortly to see what you've decided."
"Nobi, Nobi!" cried Dinah as she burst into his hut. "Have you seen Jacob?"
"Not since this morning. Why?"
"I don't know--I was talking with him earlier this afternoon and he seemed somewhat upset when he left. Nothing specific, but something about him reminded me of the way he used to be when we first found him and it worried me. Anyway, I hadn't seen him since then and I'm afraid that maybe he's left us."
"Someone in the village must have seen him. Let's go ask around."
It took only a few minutes of searching before they found someone who had seen him tear open a trail into the jungle on the village's southern border. Nobi, recognizing it as the same path Dinah's kidnappers had taken, suggested that they recruit some others to accompany them, but Dinah refused to be delayed any longer. She grabbed Nobi's hand and pulled him along behind her as she plunged into the darkness. The path was rough, apparently cleared without the aid of any tools, but it was easy to follow and they were able to move swiftly. In fact, Nobi was having some difficulty keeping up with Dinah, she was running so fast. He was just about to catch her again after having fallen behind when she entered a clearing and stopped so abruptly that he lost his balance and nearly fell over in his efforts not to crash into her. When he had regained himself and looked up, he saw something so unreal that he could not even manage to be afraid of it. The body of a giant dragon was stretched out across the clearing.
It was Dinah who first regained her capacity to speak, asking simply, "Do you think it's alive?"
"I don't know. It certainly doesn't look like it," answered Nobi in a whisper, fearful that anything louder might cause it to wake.
Dinah began edging carefully around the perimeter of the clearing so as to be able to see the beast from a different angle without having to go any nearer to it. Then suddenly she saw something that made her cry out and run toward the creature she had just been trying to avoid. Nobi, who had not moved since having left the trees, could not see what it was that had evoked this reaction. Turning his head away from the monster's lifeless face, he ran over to his fiancee's side where he found her kneeling over a human body, sobbing violently. Although her torso was blocking his view of the man's face, he had no doubt who it was. Kneeling down beside her, he put one arm around Dinah's shoulders and lowered his head so that he could see for himself. The sight of his friend's body covered all over with deep gashes caused him to begin crying as well. Had that horrible thing done this to him? Nobi shivered as he imagined that creature tearing into Jacob with its terrible claws and teeth. Then another thought occurred to him. Had Jacob done that to that horrible thing? Somehow this idea made him feel even more uncomfortable than the previous one.
Then they both stopped crying. The sudden stiffening of each other's bodies told them that they had both seen it. The dragon had moved. It was just a slight twitch of one of its arm, but unmistakably there was still life in it. Nobi picked up Jacob's body, slung it over his shoulders, and began running back towards the path by which they had come.
"Wait," he heard Dinah say as he took his first few steps into the cover of the jungle, "I want to stay here for a moment and watch it."
"Why?" asked Nobi. "It's not safe."
"But if we leave now we'll never know whether that thing survives. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life haunted by the possibility that some hideous monster is lurking in the jungle only a few miles from your home?"
"Well let's at least get off this path and into some of the thicker growth. If it recovers, it might be able to see us here."
They did as Nobi had suggested and began to wait. It was several minutes before it moved again--a faint twitch just like the one before. A third one followed shortly after and they gradually began increasing in both frequency and intensity until the entire body was thrashing about violently. As its tail crashed through a nearby tree, Nobi and Dinah crept back deeper into the jungle. There they watched as the spasms continued, the beast's eyes remaining closed the entire time as if it were some sort of involuntary reflex of the muscles. Then, suddenly, the motion stopped and its body fell down into the grass completely limp.
"Do you think..." started Nobi in a whisper.
Dinah cut him off, pointing toward the great serpentine body and whispering, "Look!"
It took Nobi a second to realize what was happening. Some sort of metamorphosis had begun. The dragon's scales were hardening, taking on a rock-like quality. Although it was not exactly like rock, but something else very familiar. Then Nobi discovered that as he had been contemplating the change in texture, he had failed to notice the change in size. The entire body was contracting inward on itself. In quiet fascination the two watched these simultaneous transformations run their course until at last, where the fearsome dragon had once lain, was a giant egg, about the size of a large watermelon.
They continued staring after all this was finished, perhaps hoping that something else would happen that would miraculously make sense of what had just occurred. Instead what they saw was the darkness of the jungle slowly spilling into the clearing. No, their minds had been so overwhelmed by the fantastic that they no longer recognized the mundane. They were just men in black robes, no doubt drawn there by the thrashing fit of the dragon that must have been audible from miles away. Although in her two previous encounters with them she had never gotten a clear view of what they looked like, Dinah knew that these were the same dark creatures who had attempted to kidnap her. They had an aura about them that could not be mistaken.
The robed figures surrounded the egg, leaving a ten foot radius between it and themselves. Then they each dropped to one knee and lowered their heads. Was this some sort of mourning ceremony for a lost pet--or perhaps a lost god? A voice could be heard--too low for either Dinah or Nobi to make out what was being said--emanating from somewhere near the center of their gathering. Then two men kneeling along the inner ring of the assembly rose and drew in closer to the egg. As they hoisted it onto their shoulders, the others stood up as well, parting so as to create a path that led up the hill behind them. Solemnly the two men walked up the slope and into the middle of the ring of rough stone pillars that stood at the top. Once there, they knelt down again and lowered their burden to the ground. From where the two villagers were watching, it appeared as if the egg disappeared into the hill.
Slowly and silently the men dispersed back into the jungle. Both Dinah and Nobi wanted to flee, but thought it best to remain in their hiding spot until they were all out of sight.
"Come on," said Dinah once they were gone, "we need to get him back to the village so we can give him a fitting burial."
As they reached down to take Jacob's arms, Dinah could not help but notice how tarnished her silver bracelet had suddenly become.
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