The Storm Dragon: Chapters 3 and 4

Bejda's Warning

“Your stomach is nearly as whiny as you are,” Hari told Della as the dragonmoth’s stomach let out yet another rambling gurgle.

“Well, excuse me,” Della retorted, “but you are the one who left the chambers in such a hurry.  I never even got a chance at breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to come along.”

“The pelleds seemed to think otherwise.”

Hari gave an annoyed sigh, not wanting to bother taking the argument any further, when he felt his own stomach give a yelp.  His ears flattened with embarrassment as Della gave a snide chuckle.

“Seems I’m not the only one eager for a snack.”

“We’ll ask Bejda if perhaps he has anything we could eat when we get to the apothecary,” Hari muttered.

Before their conversation could continue, Della lifted her tiny nose to the air and gave a few sniffs.  “Do you smell that?”

“Cherries!” exclaimed Hari as he took a hearty whiff for himself.  “Just as Ueleri said.  We must be close.”

Not wanting to wait, Della’s violet wings whirred softly as she sped from Hari’s head.  Irritated, Hari picked up his pace to follow her.  Shortly, the two found themselves in front of a small wooden building that looked nearly twice as old as the buildings around it.  The sign in front of the pathway displayed a picture of a potion bottle with ragged script reading Apothecary.  The smell of cherries was overwhelming, and at this close distance, was mixed with a smoky, green sort of smell.  All in all, the building seemed remarkably out of place here in Olikar.

Not wanting to be rude, Hari lifted a paw and knocked on the door.  “Hello?” he called.  When no one answered, Della hovered over to the window, trying to peer in, but her vision was skewed by a thick layer of dust.  Hari was about to join her when the door’s hinges squeaked loudly as it opened.  Hari and Della shared a glance then carefully stepped inside.

The apothecary was much homier within its cryptic walls than Hari had expected; a rich red rug covered most of the hardwood floor, and well-sanded and stained shelves lined the walls, dusted and neatly hosting bottles and books of all shapes and sizes and colors.  A faint bubbling sound could be heard somewhere from outside the main room, and the remaining embers of a forgotten fire sizzled within a hearth at the other end of the room.  Caught up in his surroundings, Hari nearly jumped at the sudden sound of an aged yet enthusiastic voice.

“Do I smell the magic of pelleds?”

Hari and Della whirled to see a pale grey-green dragon rise from behind the counter to the side of the room.  His eyes were a kind yellow color, like that of a foggy sunrise, and a white mane spilled from between his brown horns all the way to a magnificent plume at the end of his tail.  Pebble-like scales freckled his cheeks and snout, but the rest of his body was covered in a pine-colored cloak.  He regarded the companions with a curious smile as he said, “Ah, but you’re no pelleds.  You must have simply encountered their powers recently; which means you must be my expected guests!”

“And you must be Bejda,” said Hari politely with a quick dip of the head.  “I am the messenger Hari, and this is Della.”

“My pleasure—my pleasure indeed,” Bejda bowed in return, stepping from behind the counter.  “Indeed I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“You have?” Hari said, baffled a bit.

Della perched atop the dragon’s head once more, leaning to his ear to whisper, “He seems a bit . . . out there.”

Hari merely gave her a disdainful snuff as he looked back to Bejda.  “Lord Bellix instructed us to come here—what is it he wants?”

Bejda gave a rasping chuckle as he plodded on two legs to the opposite wall.  “It is not so much what the king wants as it is what I want.”  A spindly-fingered paw reached to the back of the top shelf and carefully searched around until Bejda withdrew a small, dusty, leather-bound book.  Gently lifting the cover, Bejda softly blew on the page and a cloud of dust floated to the floor and Bejda laughed softly to himself as he regarded the page.

“I think he might have been hanging around too many potions if you know what I mean,” Della muttered.  Hari shot her a warning look just as his stomach growled once more.  

Bejda, having heard, looked to Hari with amusement in his golden gaze.  With a shy grin, Hari asked, “Er, before we get too deep into our task, you wouldn’t happen to have anything to eat, would you?”

“Of course, of course, young messenger!” Bejda exclaimed, tossing his head back in a laugh.  He began to shuffle to a door at the back of the room.  “I’ll have you know, not only am I a magnificent healer, but I’m also a renowned chef!  In fact, I’ve got a new recipe I’ve been eager to test.  Come, come.  Your stomachs will be filled in no time.”

“I’m not so sure we should be eating anything this guy cooks up,” Della said almost inaudibly, but just loud enough for Hari to shake his head in exasperation.  

“Don’t be rude,” he chastised before returning a warm look to Bejda.  “Thank you so much; we’d love to try it.”

Soon enough, Bejda had prepared them a delicious lunch of unique breads and cheeses, along with fruits and nuts and an unusual but tasty flowery, tart spread for the bread.  Just when Hari felt he was going to burst from all the food, Bejda brought out a small, flat pie that had a peculiar aroma that Hari could not quite place.

“For dessert, an entirely new recipe that has never before been tasted by any other than myself.  I greatly anticipate your response.”  He lifted a slice for Hari, and a much smaller clump for Della and placed it in front of them both.  

The two carefully gave a sniff before taking a bite.  The pie seemed dry at first and without flavor, but after a few seconds a blaze of bittersweet and invigorating taste rushed through Hari’s mouth and into his very bones.  It was as if he was tasting sunlight itself.  “Wow,” was all he could muster.  Della’s mouth was too full to mutter anything, and she devoured her chunk almost as quickly as it had been set before her.  “What is this?” Hari asked.

“It’s your classic cherry pie,” Bejda answered with a sly smile, “infused with a unique combination of herbs meant to revive the body and clear the mind.”

“I feel as though I could soar for miles.”

Licking her paws, Della nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“Well, I’m certainly pleased you like it, as it is what I wanted you here for.”

“Oh?” said Hari.

“Well, in a much more portable means of course.”  Bejda reached onto a shelf and handed a small pouch to Hari.  “Inside is a hardy bread made with the same herbs.  My prediction is it will come in handy on your journey.”

“Thank you, Bejda,” said Hari humbly, casually brushing Della aside as she tried to peek inside the pouch.

“Ah, and one more thing.”  Bejda withdrew the old book from a pocket in his cloak and handed it too to Hari.  The young dragon carefully leafed through it and found several sketches of flowers and grasses along with instructions scripted next to them.  “An index of various plants and fruits that may be of some use to you along jour journey.  There are descriptions of where to find them as well as how to prepare them for various purposes.”

“I’m sure it will be of great help,” Hari nodded.  “But, well, I suppose our route is going to be slightly different than Bellix originally planned.”  In a hushed voice, he continued, “Someone must have stolen the scroll that led to Lhan—”

A finger rested upon Hari’s snout, quieting him as Bejda shushed.  He spoke in a whisper.  “You mustn’t speak so freely.  Our kingdom has a bit of a history of prying eyes and noses poking where they shouldn’t.”  He paced the room slowly, distant.  “Of course, it might not happen often, but that does not mean it does not happen at all.  You must always be careful, Hari, especially when dealing with such a particular matter.”  Hari apologized quietly, only to again be cut off by Bejda.  The older dragon knelt close to the messenger, whiskers nearly brushing Hari’s face.  “It is important to remember not to react to what you see; there are those in the guise of friends who are the worst kind of traitors, and there are those who appear dangerous who are in fact those with whom you should trust your life.”  With a shrug, he added, “And, yes, there are those who are exactly as they seem, but it is important to never make assumptions, young dragon.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, of course,” Hari confirmed.

“Indeed.”  Bejda straightened, voice strengthening.  “Now, I do believe you’ve one more task to accomplish before meeting Lord Bellix back at the castle, no?  I say you take what I’ve given you and run along then.”

“Er, yes, alright.  Thank you for everything, Bejda.”  Hari stood and placed the bread and book of plants in his bag before Della fluttered to rest once again between Hari’s horns.

“I wish you only the greatest of fortunes,” said Bejda as he led the companions to the door.  Bidding them farewell, Bejda called after Hari, “Remember: you must always trust yourself first!”

The Final Preparation

Hari felt a bit discomforted by Bejda’s words, though he could not tell why.  Della, however, didn’t seem the least bit distressed now that her stomach was full.  “I do hope our last instruction is to take a well-deserved nap,” she yawned.

“Hardly,” was Hari’s response as he read the parchment the king had given him.  Befuddled, he read the words several times to himself before reading them aloud to Della:

Any traveler can decide what weapon it is he wishes to take.  But those truly worthy of a quest are chosen by the weapon.  Crystals know more than you think.  Find the amulet.

“What in R’Tsun do you think that means?” asked Hari.

“For once, I’m not sure,” was Della’s response.  “Though his previous two instructions were not so cryptic; I hardly expect him to suddenly throw us a riddle.  I’m suspecting there’s a literal amulet you need to find.”

“I don’t understand; what amulet?  What crystals?”

“Oh!  Madame Iska!” Della exclaimed.

“The fortune teller?”

“Yes.  Many parts of R’Tsun believe she’s little more than a hoax, but there’s a reason she resides in the City of Dragonstone.  She’s one of the most magical dragons there is.  She might not have the amulet, but I bet she’ll be able to tell us where to find it.”

“ ‘Crystals know more than you think.’  Now it makes sense!  Perhaps you may prove to be of some use yet.”  Ignoring Della’s indignant huff, Hari set off down the cobblestone street.

With the help of a young shopkeeper’s directions, Hari managed to find the described white cottage that was home to the enigmatic Madame Iska, a dragon spoken of in tales as both pure and evil.  Hari had heard many a myth of the fortune teller, but he was about to see for himself just who it was that had struck awe and disdain in the hearts of many throughout R’Tsun.

“Well, are you going to go in or just stare at the door?” Della said flatly.

As if stepping out of a trance, Hari approached the dark wooden door.  Before he co
uld knock, however, the door opened slowly, beckoning him, and a thick, smoky voice emanated from within the darkened room beyond.  “Come in, young dragon.  Madame Iska has been waiting patiently.”

Hari and Della shared a doubtful glance, but stepped within the cottage.  Curtains were drawn over all the windows, and an ethereal blue-green glow doused the room.  It took a moment for Hari’s eyes to adjust, but when he could see clearer, he saw the room was reminiscent of a cave, with stone walls and floors with no carpeting or decoration.  He saw no other doors leading out aside from the entrance.  But what most struck him were the crystals.  There were dozens, tens of dozens, of all colors glowing and pulsating eerily and mystically from various cracks and crevices.  They emanated a soft hum that made the very air feel alive.  

Stones and trinkets and metals were placed here and there on shelves or on the floor, and in the very center of the room was a small pool of ice blue water, clear as an autumn sky.  An elaborate golden ring carved with gems and runes ran its circumference, and sitting opposite the water facing Hari was a sleek she-dragon colored the deepest of blues.  Her dark royal scales appeared luminescent in the room’s lighting, and her ivory horns reflected every color of the crystals around her.  She wore intricately carved golden jewelry about her neck, legs, and tail, all adorned with polished turquoise.  Her mane was a midnight waterfall, shimmering and tumbling from a curved horn on her forehead to the middle of her back.  Her wings were like those of a raven, tucked close to her sides.  Her amber eyes held ages of intelligence and curiosity, calm yet alert.  She beheld an entranced Hari with a sly grin and spoke in her hypnotic, river-like voice.  “Come, young Hari, and with fresh eyes bear witness to sights not yet poisoned by actuality.”

“I hope she doesn’t speak like that all the time,” whispered Della to an ignorant Hari.  The dragon stepped forward carefully, as if fearful of shattering the ambience, and took a seat across the pool from Madame Iska.  

“You know who I am,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

“Indeed,” Iska nodded.  “Though it was hardly difficult to figure out.  But you are not here for trivialities; you’ve a great task ahead of you and you’ve been instructed to acquire my assistance.”

“Well, not exactly,” Hari hesitated.  “Lord Bellix instructed us to find an amulet; he implied we should refer to crystals, and Della here suggested you might be able to help us.”

Madame Iska regarded Della with a curious expression just long enough to make the dragonmoth begin to shift uncomfortably.  “I would like nothing more than to have the honor of aiding a great hero,” said Iska, her diamond-esque tail tip twitching.

Hari nearly scoffed.  “Hero?  Oh, no, no, I’m merely a messenger!  I—I’ve never—” he broke off with a disbelieving laugh, unable to even comprehend the fortune teller’s words.

Iska merely stared calmly, then slowly blinked as she said.  “You are much more than you would ever dare imagine, young Hari.  I see a brave warrior broiling inside of you.  I see storms and stealth brimming within your veins, aching to be set free.”  She gave a liquid chuckle.   “Oh, your destiny is not that of a mere messenger, Hari, but rather of one who is meant to become a great tale of our land, passed down through generations.”  When an overwhelmed Hari appeared doubtful, Madame Iska gestured to the pool with an elegant paw.  “See for yourself.”

Hesitant, Hari lowered his eyes and bent toward the water.  At first, the still surface showed nothing but his own rusty gaze staring back at him.  But after a moment, the liquid began to swirl slowly, distorting his reflection until it molded into the scene of a vast landscape, jagged mountains rippling behind a forest of ashen pines.  Smoke rose from an unseen blaze, and Hari was suddenly gripped with an insurmountable sense of terror.  Just as his breath began to quicken, the image shifted and he saw the blurred silhouette of what appeared to be a dragon beneath an orange moon.  He heard the creature give a sorrowful wail, and his heart was weighted with a deep sadness that stung his eyes and clenched his stomach.  The water rippled once more to reveal Hari once again, but it was not his reflection this time; rather, Hari saw himself covered in mud and wounds, panting as he slowly spread his wings beneath a violent storm.  The image let out a wild roar, shattering the vision and returning the pool to its crystalline state.

Unable to digest what all he had seen, Hari looked back to Iska with a horrified expression.  “I don’t understand; these images all appear to be of destruction and grief—not of some heroic tale.  What am I supposed to take from this, Madame Iska?”

The fortune teller’s visage seemed to grow almost mournful.  “The future is never written in stone, young dragon.  These are images of what can neither be forced nor avoided; they are only what may be.  But you must understand that the mission you are about to undertake is something far beyond a delivery.  Your adventure will change the course of R’Tsun’s destiny.”

Apprehensive, Hari’s ears slowly flattened as Della muttered, “No pressure.”

Iska stood and paced around the pool silently until she was at Hari’s side.  “But you must not grow doubtful, Hari.  You would not have been chosen for this task were you not capable.  That is not to say you must not fear, for from fear comes courage, of which you will need much in order to complete the journey.  But remember, you are never alone.  You have Della,” she said with a nod to the dragonmoth, “and the gift of the pelleds.  And now,” she added, reaching around her neck and removing a pendant: a thick leather cord attached to a meticulously carved copper amulet embedding a turquoise stone.  Iska placed it around Hari’s neck.  “You’ve the aid of my gift as well.  This amulet will protect you and guide you in times of need.  Never take it off, and treat it kindly, for stones are more alive than you think.”  

“I am honored,” said Hari, humbled.  “Thank you, Madame.”

“It is I who must thank you, Hari, though you’ve yet to understand what for.  But all in good time, young dragon.  All in good time.”

After exchanging brief farewells, Hari and Della left the home of the fortune teller, having completed the final preparation requested by Lord Bellix.

“Well,” Hari said as he began pattering down the street, “I suppose it’s time we finally learn what lies in wait for us out there.”  With a quick jump and flap of his wings, Hari launched himself into the air and headed back toward the castle.