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Memoirs of Dragora

Chapter 9: Old Bonds and Familiar Names

The band of companions came out of the gates, with Nij looking around to see only snow where there used to be green fields and ever-present stars. Dragora saw the longing in his father's eyes, scooting closer and speaking to him in the archaic language. Slypnir suddenly began tuning in, never having seen Dragora take a class to learn the ancient tongue, yet speak it so fluently. Zerion was already dozing off, sleeping hunched forward on the deep cut seat, letting his face settle between his knees. Slypnir turned and saw the humorous position, laughing softly to the sight and went back to listening in on Dragora and Nij. Finally after catching up on personal matters, the father and son started speaking in the vernacular language.

"So what happened to your wings?" Nij asked, looking at the nubs on Dragora's back

"They were stunted when I got a disease a week before my 5th birthday, I've managed though, so it doesn't matter to me." Dragora replied simply, letting off his elbows and laying back comfortably.

"I know of a man who can help them grow... if that's what you want." Nij stated to his son, seeing him lean up again with an excited look on his face.

"I would love to fly, but I don't know if it'll work..." Dragora said, letting his muzzle relax into a neutral position.

"I'm certain it'll work, I've heard of this man. He's supposedly am otter named Ohteskhri, and he was living in the isles off of Dauntae's Freezer. I'm sure you would want to take your boat out again..." Slypnir said encouragingly, knowing all to well of Dragora's love for the open waters.

"In the ocean you say? Well that's one thing I would almost never say no to!" He replied instantly, thinking of how long it's been since he was last able to go out onto the deep blue unhindered.

"And from one cold place to another... " Zerion muttered to himself, waking up hearing the name of the place he downright hated with a passion.

"I uh... have never been on the sea..." Nij feebly replied only within earshot of Dragora.

"It'll take your legs and your stomach a little getting used to, but after that, you should be fine." Dragora replied quietly, smiling broadly.

"But for now, we have to keep up our end of the bargain and find the nobles' daughters." Slypnir said in response to Zerion's scowl at the thought of more cold weather.

They had continued the casual conversations experiences and travels, Nij always noticing a new scar whenever Dragora moved to let him get a better look. Eventually everyone joined in being able to tell of how Dragora got his fresher scars and cicatrices. There was one, however, that he refused to talk about, one that neither Slypnir nor Zerion witnessed to how he got it, that was in the shape of an X on the left side of his chest. After the discourse picked up again, they were already past halfway to Krjn to look for it's supposed prisoners. Slypnir insisted that he would push on through the night and let the them rest. Dragora was the most reluctant however, for he could see the strain on his companion's eyes enough to make a normal man have a headache of his lifetime, but Slypnir was firm in his decision, not paying any heed to the lines under his eyes. Knowing he was in an unwinnable situation, Dragora merely reposed on his back and closed his eyes, listening to the rustle of the leaves in the midnight breeze, let out a heavy sigh and nodded off.

Dragora looked around and saw himself in a ruin surrounded by a shield, deep under the ocean. He looked back, seeing no dry way of entry, forcing him to push onward into the mysterious gathering of obelisks, holding up a grand ceiling so high that one could easily take flight and not come near it. Dragora delved deeper, seeing statues up ahead that might give him some reference to where he was. When he approached them however, they seemed too life-like to be meager carvings, throwing him on guard as he looked around seeing one similar kind of insect shaped being on one side and like-wise on the other. He examined them closely, looking at the firm builds and exotic shapes that almost pushed him into an erotic state of mind as he touched their flexing definitions of muscularity, and looking over to the other side seeing several four-armed, bipedal insects, just as tone and muscular in stature. He walked down the hall, admiring the models frozen in time, until he came to an alter with a small trickle of light coming through. Suddenly, a silhouette of his still hand started moving, until it came to rest atop of the evenly cut slab of stone. Dragora stared for a moment, unbelieving of what he saw before his very eyes, and then cautiously moved his hand atop of where the shadow's was. As he did this, however, The flow of time slowly started creeping up the hall, reanimating the soldiers that Dragora had found tantalizing to say the least. The full army had been released from the halt of time before he could turn around from hearing the creaking noises of the stiff limbs of the insects. They were all now looking at him with the utmost curiosity, walking around him, studying the strange figure that seemingly came out of nowhere. Dragora just stood still and let them take a gander at his figure, occasionally poking him gently, alerting him of where they were. Finally after several pokes they backed up from him, wondering how they would communicate, seeing he was completely oblivious to their remarks and questions. Dragora started drawing into the sandy floor of the dilapidated temple, etching with his feet carefully, He drew his name and pointed at himself, only confusing them further. He etched his name in his own language, in which their heads perked up in recognition.

Dragora woke up suddenly, and realizing they had stopped, jumped out of the back of the caravan, seeing Slypnir fast asleep by a fire, and noticed they were at the entrance to Krjn again. He only smiled at his sleeping friend, kissed him on the cheek and went by himself into the citadel.

Slypnir woke up the next morning, seeing his fire still burning strong, implying that Dragora must have visited him in his sleep. He got up, heading toward the back of the caravan, only to find Nij sleeping back there. Going back toward the head of the caravan, he jumped up to the seat in one great bound and rushed the manticores to head toward the keep.

"What the... why are you chargin' the fortress?" Zerion asked rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and then jumped realizing what he just saw.

"Oi, Where's Dragora?" Nij questioned firmly to the front of the caravan.

"He went on without us, and if anything happens to him I'll hate myself for it..." Slypnir replied, getting the manticores to go ask fast as they could up the long street toward the now-hallowed bastion.

"Damn.. what do you think pushed him to do this!?" Zerion yelled over the ruckus of the wind and battering of supplies.

"I dunno, he's been different since we started this trip, I think it's those dreams he gets..."Slypnir answered, recalling the seriousness of Dragora face when he spoke of them.

Dragora was nearing the bottom of the deeply rooted tower, feeling the air get stifling and a smell of decayed cadavers getting stronger.

"Holy crap that's getting overwhelming.." Dragora laughed to himself, thinking a troll farted and covering his nostrils as best as he could. "The first thing I'm doing when I get down there is incinerating the dead bodies and rescuing those poor ladies..."

He got to the bottom to find the nobles' daughters behind a set of closely cropped iron bars, huddling to one side of the cell. Dragora did as he said, incinerating the bodies and finding the smoke smell better than the unventilated air around it. After two piles were now ashes, Dragora heard a great rumble coming from his side, and he rolled quickly toward the center of the room, seeing the great ax swing over his ducked head. A demon came out from the smoke cover, re-grasping the rough hewn neck of the crimson-colored executioner tool. Seeing the fresh blood, Dragora looked over to the bodies and saw that they were the forces that Slypnir and Zerion had left to protect the fortification from corrupted hands. He let out a furious roar, shaking the demon of balance and rumbling the ceiling. Dragora summoned a great scythe with a wicked edge to his side, and lunging at the demon vigorously, giving him no quarter to recover;. All the demon could do was duck, knowing that attempting to block the reaper's weapon of choice would prove fatally foolhardy. Dragora kept swinging, attacking with great sweeping and pulling attacks, cleanly swiping straight through two support columns in the process. The daemon was not used to avoiding attacks, stumbling around clumsily, as best he could to postpone his death. Dragora felt a familiar burning in his chest, and dropped his scythe in exchange for a pair of ice daggers, trying to balance his elemental flux in order to not lose control again.

The trio upstairs vaulted out of the caravan, rushing into the tower. Slypnir felt a slight shake of the ground and heard a slight roar. Slypnir gasped almost into tears at the painfully familiar sound and rushed his way downstairs, gaining distance between Zerion and Nij. While the two unaware draconians saw their partner bound ahead of them in desperation, they could do nothing but try their best to catch up, wondering what Slypnir had heard. Zerion ended up falling behind, being the only one clad in actual armor, and was not fond of going down stairs, for he easily lost his balance.

Slypnir dropped to his knees in relief at seeing that Dragora had not changed, but was eerily calm against his barely clothed and defending opponent. When Nij caught up, he unsheathed the scythe-sword and winged it mightily through the air, taking off the adversary's head with only the slightest ripping and crunching sound, despite how thick the demon's neck was and how wide the blade had been. Dragora paused, frightened by the phantom of his sword as it flew through the air and beheaded his opponent before his eyes, and looked to see that it was actually the real heirloom, wedged into the wall hook-first. After the head hit the ground and finished rolling, Zerion reached the bottom of the stairs to be greeted by the sight of blood spurting out of a dullahan and seeing the grand army's bodies strewn about.

"Did... did you do this?" Zerion asked, frightened to see his role-models all slain around him.

"No, that thing I was just battling did. I didn't realize who they were until I saw the fresh blood on that monster's ax." Dragora replied looking shamefully at the piles of ashes by the stairs.

"They got the death they wanted, to be slain in battle, and you were doing right by incinerating their bodies rather than let them be rat food. Please finish it so that we may collect them and deliver the remains to their hometown, Sylphistrine, the cloud city." Zerion replied sadly, seeing nowhere to look inside himself for someone who would inspire purpose.

"I'm sorry it had to turn out this way, they were obviously caught off guard..." Slypnir said, helping Dragora reduce their beings to ashes.

"I'll escort the prisoners upstairs, they will most likely want fresh air." Nij said, sympathetic of Zerion's plight, motioning him to follow and leave the two mages to their work.

Zerion followed Nij to the back of the room, helping him lift the door out of it's place and letting the two girls slip under eagerly. The young minks followed closely behind their to broad saviors, blushing under their closely groomed hair and rushing up the stairs to freedom.

After the bodies were all combusted, Dragora pulled his ancestor's sword out of the wall, and using wind to call up a small whirlwind to pick them up into Slypnir's ready crate. The small wisp of wind slid along the floor silently, picking up every ash like a great vacuum, and extinguishing into the crate systematically. After 3 more rounds with the whirlwind, the floor was as clean as it was ever going to be, not a single ash left behind. Slypir sealed the crate securely, making sure not a hole was present. Dragora picked the crate up,hoisting it onto his back and carried it up the stairs to their waiting companions. The girls looked in awe at the crate bigger than themselves on Dragora's back, being carried so carefully as to not even glance along a wall for support. Nij went ahead to clear space for the box and two children in the caravan as Zerion hung his head in bereavement and lamentation to those lost in the defense of this cursed place. The young minks looked at his expression realizing what was in the crate, for his expression was similar to that of their fathers' when their mothers went away on business.

"First, we drop off the girls to their fathers, then we make for Sylphistrine to deliver the remnants to the monastery, how heavy a blow this will be to their next generation of warriors..." Zerion said following Dragora outside over the bridge of the soldiers' making.

"Come on, there's nothing we can do for them now but deliver the ashes to the monks so they can spread them as they see fit." Slypnir stated, following Dragora outside.

"Here there's space now," Nij directed Dragora, who was backing the box into the wagon, which was filling up quickly from the jump of cargo.

Nij motioned for the two children to jump in, so that he could see how much space himself and Dragora had to sit in. The girls climbed in, relieved to be out of the sun which was now shining through the receding mist, warming up the ground and restoring the shine of the marble carved road leading off into the jungle and toward Aerinia. Slypnir fed the manticores and hooked their reins back onto the wagon, and with a light rustle they were off into the jungle.