Chapter Fourteen: Road to Caer Voln

The map read, "West to Caer Voln." Kifka was halfway there. Soon, he would finally posses the Gem. Somehow this map had found its way into his great-grandfather's vault, addressed to Kifka himself. Being a spell caster, Kifka didn't bother to question the ways of magic and try to wreck his mind to figure out how it got there. Maybe his grandfather was a seer, and thus saw that his grandson, namely Kifka, was destined to obtain the Gem. Yet all this heavy thinking gave the Wizard a monster of a headache, and he proceeded west, trying to think of something of a lesser magnitude. Which brought him to Sennymay… And the child she was soon to bear. This might have helped his headache, but now his heart hurt twice as much. Little wisps of flames danced around him as he almost cried. It's not fair, he told himself. It's my child, too! I too have a right to him or her, whomever it is! God, I hope it's a her… A little girl to look just like my Senny… With little brown curls and different coloured eyes… He caught himself, realizing that it wasn't the baby that he was describing, but Sennymay herself. The truth was he was in love with Senny and had spent only one night with her, yet he was already to become a father; he just wasn't ready for that. He would have had time to prepare had Sennymay let him stay with her the whole nine or ten months, however long it would turn out to be. But she didn't, and now Kifka didn't even know if she was alright, had a miscarriage, or had already borne the babe. He gazed around himself, his motivation lost in sorrow. He almost turned around, thinking that maybe if he went back to the island and told her how he truly felt, she would let him stay with her and take care of her.

Yet he continued. He knew not why. Some force more powerful than he led him forward and he dared not question it. The peaks of Caer Voln became visible on the horizon as Kifka hiked through the Dragonsclaw grasslands towards the ruins of Voln.

A distant rumbling roar shook the ground and caused Kifka to snatch the sword out of its back sheath. The Wizard looked around nervously. He had only heart that sound during the Hunting Games in the Empire, and it didn't take much to recognize it. Kifka kicked himself. That's why the call it "Dragonsclaw"!

The sun was suddenly eclipsed by the shadow of a gigantic creature. Kifka's riding dragon Gabrielle was only a Wyvern; she was nothing compared to the monster that now covered the sky. It landed in front of the wizard with a deafening whomp, sending a powerful downdraft of hot air on him from its massive wings. After the initial terror had subsided, Kifka almost kicked himself for being so careless.

The dragon brought its greenish snout up to Kifka's face, and exhaled two perfect streams of fire from each nostril right at the wizard.

Kifka coughed, patting down his scorched clothing. He looked up at the beast and screamed, "is that the best you can do?" Fire was the last thing one wanted to use against a Flame Mage.

Now dragons are not dumb. Having a few hundred years of knight battling behind them, they get to be quite intelligent. The creature lifted its massive foot and brought it down on top of the Wizard with enormous speed. Kifka dove out of the way, landing in a bush of dragonsclaw thorns.

"Alright! Sorry!" Kifka yelled, "I didn't mean to trespass. No harm done if I turn back now, right?"

The dragon eyed him with its crimson pupils.

"Name what you'd like, Dragon! I'll get it for you!" Kifka yelled. The dragon snorted a cloud of sulfur-smelling smoke at the Wizard. "Please, Dragon! I've got a girl back home whose about to bear a child!"

"Whut th' bloody 'ell art thou doing 'ere?" the dragon boomed. "Yer's got a dame with yer pup. Ye should be taking care of 'er!"

Kifka stared at the dragon. Never before had he heard one speak, nor know of anyone who did.

"What are you called, Dragon?" Kifka yelled.

"I be Belgorath," the dragon answered, "and you, stranger?"

"I am Kifka," Kifka answered. He stood up and brushed off his clothing.

"The son of the King, are ye?" the dragon inquired. "I'll do ye a favour and won't eat ye, if you do me a favour."

"Anything in my power, Lord Belgorath," Kifka answered.

"We are but few beasts," Belgorath started, "And soon we will be none if ye knights and dragon slayers keep killing our kind. I want you to give us sanctuary, so that we may grow again."

"I will try, Lord," Kifka answered.

"Alright, lad, I'll take ye home."

"Belgorath, do you think we could stop by a certain island first? I want to check on my… wife."

*         *         *

The fire crackled in the stone fire place of the Oracle Room. A reclining chair was placed in front of the fire, and Arden resided in it. She wore loose black robes, for she was almost at child bearing. Her rooms had been prepared, and the midwives and healers summoned. Now she sat in front of the fire and spoke with Artemis.

"I hardly know anything about you, Arden," Artemis whispered from the shadows of her throne. "Where are you from? What family?"

Arden was quiet for a moment before she answered, "I don't know." Artemis didn't ask, yet the rogue went on, "I don't really remember. As far as I can remember, I've always been passed from one foster home to another…" she paused. "I don't even know if Se… 'Arden' is my real name, and not just something a foster parent made up for me."

"I'm… sorry to hear that," Artemis said after a long pause. "Maybe I can learn some more about you from a different source. I can see this is a little painful for you… How about that child of yours? Whose is it? Will we have the pleasure of meeting the father?"

"I'm afraid you've already met him, Artemis," Arden answered.

"Really?" the oracle exclaimed. "Who is he?"

"One of your court."

There was a long pause.

"Is that all you're going to tell me, Arden?"

"Yes."

And so they sat silently for a while, listening to the crackling of the wood in the fireplace.

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