From Book 1 of Weapons of Espar
Dragon's Talon, prologue
Perched on the edge of the stone chair, Cairon played alone. He leaned far over the sixteen game pieces abandoned on the table's carven grid board. Not knowing the rules for the formal game, he had arranged the foot soldiers into an attacking wedge on one edge of the board, faced by the jester and his army of mounted men. For the moment, the horses were dragons in Cairon's mind. The king and wizard pieces had been swept to one side, having no role to play in the mock war.
The adults sat on other stone chairs around the bed, where Cairon's grandmother lay engulfed by the feather mattress and covered with a thin sheet. She had not been able to rise without assistance in more than a quartercycle now. Keeper Zian, Cairon's father, had taken the role of caretaker. Cairon thought it odd; when Cairon was ill, his mother tended him. His father did not know how to care for someone sick, not like a mother did.
Cairon's mother had explained it. Grandmother Kasha's mind was failing, and sometimes she did not recognize people. Sometimes she did not see Cairon's mother, she just saw black hair. He had seen more than one of those panic attacks. When Grandmother Kasha's mind slipped, she was suddenly young, and the War of the Pass raged. Lionians were invading Dragon Pass, the Dragon Fleet at their command. Anyone not Esparan was the enemy. Even Cairon's black curls could be seen as a threat when Keeper Kasha was in one of her states.
One of Cairon's stone horse riders, gliding on imagined wings, swooped down into the hunters. A blast of fire, mimed by Cairon's tossed hand, threw all the dragon hunters from their feet. The soldier game pieces clattered against the table.
"Where is the boy?" Grandmother Kasha's voice was thin, like she was running out of breath, when she asked the question.
Cairon glanced at the adults. Cairon's mother sat near the foot of the bed. With a beckoning hand, she called him to abandon the battle on the table. He stuck to his mother's side once at the bedside. If Grandmother Kasha had a fit, he and his mother would both be targeted, despite the gold and red ring on Cairon's mother's finger that matched his father's. Cairon and his mother were not the Lionian of Grandmother Kasha's nightmares, but they shared the distinctive black hair with the enemy, and that was sufficient.
Cairon made an effort to stand a little straighter when his father looked at him. The wooden sword on Cairon's hip, already scorched twice and three fingers shorter than it had once been, shifted to lie at the same angle as Keeper Zian's blade. Cairon had painted the cross guard of his wooden sword white to match the talons of his father's sword, but the paint had been burned black and was peeling. Their hide clothing matched, although Cairon knew a silver dragon scale shirt and a golden amulet lay beneath his father's, and there was nothing but skin beneath Cairon's.
"Your grandson now stands at the foot of the bed, mother," Keeper Zian said. "Remember, he is Yeahsin, like Elsiena. He is not Lionian."
For a moment, the white-haired woman turned her head to look up at the keeper, and Cairon saw his father flinch. Keeper Zian had stood before armies of hunters and defeated them. He rode on the back of dragons. He had placed himself between Cairon and a Lionian slaver without wavering. Cairon did not understand how an old woman's stare could shake the rock that was the Keeper of Dragon Pass.
"I remember," Grandmother Kasha said. "I would have him speak the oath."
Keeper Zian glanced at Cairon. "Six years old is too young to know what it means."
Cairon felt his heart sink. The wooden sword tucked into his belt felt too light.
"I would have him promise," the old woman insisted.
With a sigh, like an adult accommodating a child, Keeper Zian put his hand out to Cairon, and Cairon left the safety of his mother's side. When Cairon stood next to his grandmother, his father's hand rested on his shoulder in ready comfort.
Cairon now understood the keeper's hesitation. White had taken Grandmother Kasha's eyes entirely. Had she been a dragon, the white would have meant fear, but Cairon did not know what it meant in a human.
"Boy?" Grandmother Kasha called.
"I am here, Grandmother," Cairon said. "I am right here."
"I cannot see," Grandmother Kasha explained, her voice gaining strength, "but I hear well. Do you know the Oath of the DragonKeeper, Cairon?"
Cairon's lessons with books were new this year, but the Book of the Keeper had been the first he had read with his father. The oath itself had been a lesson in memorization. Keeper Zian said the Esparans believed that a mistake during a vow broke the oath, but that the oath was now to the dragons and dragons were not so fickle. Cairon wasn't sure what fickle meant, but he thought it a bad thing to be.
He had recited the words of the oath dozens of times since that first reading. It was easy to say them now, even if he did not understand what all the words meant.
"May the stars bear witness to the oath given here and the gods ensure each word is spoken only in truth," Cairon said, his words running into each other. "By the four gods, I solemnly swear to honor the memory of those of this line who have come before and to follow in their steps in the defense of the dragons of this world. I hereby swear to help all colors of dragons who come seeking aid, to destroy those who wish them harm, and to protect them from danger forever. Using the gift given, I swear to speak for the dragons and respect any request made of me.
In the presence of the god's sanctuary, I swear never to reveal the secret of the gift to any. I swear to hide it and, on my life, never allow its discovery. This oath I give to the dragons present here and all dragons of this earth. I will honor these words until my death."
Proudly, Cairon looked at his father, but Keeper Zian's eyes were on Grandmother Kasha, and Cairon felt forgotten. He went over the words in his mind, thinking he had perhaps made a mistake.
The long pause dragged on. Cairon was not sure if Grandmother Kasha was even aware of him until she briefly smiled and said, "Did you know there was more once?"
Cairon nodded, but then, realizing she may not have seen, he added, "The second part was to the kingdom and King of Espar, but we don't say that part anymore. There is no king."
Grandmother Kasha's smile seemed sad. "There is, though," she said. "He is just not on his throne. One day, Cairon, a firedrake called WhirlWind may come to you and ask you to help the king's family. I promised that the dragonkeeper would always answer that call, just as your father did. If they call, Cairon, you must help them. Promise me that."
"I promise, Grandmother," Cairon replied.
The old woman rolled onto her back, her vacant stare shifting to the ceiling. "Good boy. Now go back to your games."
Released from his father's comforting hand, Cairon wandered back to the game pieces on the table. One by one, he stood the pieces back up then, in experimentation, picked up the king piece. The figure was an older man on a throne of what looked to be wood, although it was set in stone. A vine and flower pattern edged the throne and the robes of the king. A crown encircled the balding head. In one hand, the figure held a sword. In the other hand, he held a shovel.
Cairon placed the king piece next to the jester piece. Then the horse rider pieces took flight once more, and the dragon hunters were vanquished again.
Dragon's Talon, prologue
Perched on the edge of the stone chair, Cairon played alone. He leaned far over the sixteen game pieces abandoned on the table's carven grid board. Not knowing the rules for the formal game, he had arranged the foot soldiers into an attacking wedge on one edge of the board, faced by the jester and his army of mounted men. For the moment, the horses were dragons in Cairon's mind. The king and wizard pieces had been swept to one side, having no role to play in the mock war.
The adults sat on other stone chairs around the bed, where Cairon's grandmother lay engulfed by the feather mattress and covered with a thin sheet. She had not been able to rise without assistance in more than a quartercycle now. Keeper Zian, Cairon's father, had taken the role of caretaker. Cairon thought it odd; when Cairon was ill, his mother tended him. His father did not know how to care for someone sick, not like a mother did.
Cairon's mother had explained it. Grandmother Kasha's mind was failing, and sometimes she did not recognize people. Sometimes she did not see Cairon's mother, she just saw black hair. He had seen more than one of those panic attacks. When Grandmother Kasha's mind slipped, she was suddenly young, and the War of the Pass raged. Lionians were invading Dragon Pass, the Dragon Fleet at their command. Anyone not Esparan was the enemy. Even Cairon's black curls could be seen as a threat when Keeper Kasha was in one of her states.
One of Cairon's stone horse riders, gliding on imagined wings, swooped down into the hunters. A blast of fire, mimed by Cairon's tossed hand, threw all the dragon hunters from their feet. The soldier game pieces clattered against the table.
"Where is the boy?" Grandmother Kasha's voice was thin, like she was running out of breath, when she asked the question.
Cairon glanced at the adults. Cairon's mother sat near the foot of the bed. With a beckoning hand, she called him to abandon the battle on the table. He stuck to his mother's side once at the bedside. If Grandmother Kasha had a fit, he and his mother would both be targeted, despite the gold and red ring on Cairon's mother's finger that matched his father's. Cairon and his mother were not the Lionian of Grandmother Kasha's nightmares, but they shared the distinctive black hair with the enemy, and that was sufficient.
Cairon made an effort to stand a little straighter when his father looked at him. The wooden sword on Cairon's hip, already scorched twice and three fingers shorter than it had once been, shifted to lie at the same angle as Keeper Zian's blade. Cairon had painted the cross guard of his wooden sword white to match the talons of his father's sword, but the paint had been burned black and was peeling. Their hide clothing matched, although Cairon knew a silver dragon scale shirt and a golden amulet lay beneath his father's, and there was nothing but skin beneath Cairon's.
"Your grandson now stands at the foot of the bed, mother," Keeper Zian said. "Remember, he is Yeahsin, like Elsiena. He is not Lionian."
For a moment, the white-haired woman turned her head to look up at the keeper, and Cairon saw his father flinch. Keeper Zian had stood before armies of hunters and defeated them. He rode on the back of dragons. He had placed himself between Cairon and a Lionian slaver without wavering. Cairon did not understand how an old woman's stare could shake the rock that was the Keeper of Dragon Pass.
"I remember," Grandmother Kasha said. "I would have him speak the oath."
Keeper Zian glanced at Cairon. "Six years old is too young to know what it means."
Cairon felt his heart sink. The wooden sword tucked into his belt felt too light.
"I would have him promise," the old woman insisted.
With a sigh, like an adult accommodating a child, Keeper Zian put his hand out to Cairon, and Cairon left the safety of his mother's side. When Cairon stood next to his grandmother, his father's hand rested on his shoulder in ready comfort.
Cairon now understood the keeper's hesitation. White had taken Grandmother Kasha's eyes entirely. Had she been a dragon, the white would have meant fear, but Cairon did not know what it meant in a human.
"Boy?" Grandmother Kasha called.
"I am here, Grandmother," Cairon said. "I am right here."
"I cannot see," Grandmother Kasha explained, her voice gaining strength, "but I hear well. Do you know the Oath of the DragonKeeper, Cairon?"
Cairon's lessons with books were new this year, but the Book of the Keeper had been the first he had read with his father. The oath itself had been a lesson in memorization. Keeper Zian said the Esparans believed that a mistake during a vow broke the oath, but that the oath was now to the dragons and dragons were not so fickle. Cairon wasn't sure what fickle meant, but he thought it a bad thing to be.
He had recited the words of the oath dozens of times since that first reading. It was easy to say them now, even if he did not understand what all the words meant.
"May the stars bear witness to the oath given here and the gods ensure each word is spoken only in truth," Cairon said, his words running into each other. "By the four gods, I solemnly swear to honor the memory of those of this line who have come before and to follow in their steps in the defense of the dragons of this world. I hereby swear to help all colors of dragons who come seeking aid, to destroy those who wish them harm, and to protect them from danger forever. Using the gift given, I swear to speak for the dragons and respect any request made of me.
In the presence of the god's sanctuary, I swear never to reveal the secret of the gift to any. I swear to hide it and, on my life, never allow its discovery. This oath I give to the dragons present here and all dragons of this earth. I will honor these words until my death."
Proudly, Cairon looked at his father, but Keeper Zian's eyes were on Grandmother Kasha, and Cairon felt forgotten. He went over the words in his mind, thinking he had perhaps made a mistake.
The long pause dragged on. Cairon was not sure if Grandmother Kasha was even aware of him until she briefly smiled and said, "Did you know there was more once?"
Cairon nodded, but then, realizing she may not have seen, he added, "The second part was to the kingdom and King of Espar, but we don't say that part anymore. There is no king."
Grandmother Kasha's smile seemed sad. "There is, though," she said. "He is just not on his throne. One day, Cairon, a firedrake called WhirlWind may come to you and ask you to help the king's family. I promised that the dragonkeeper would always answer that call, just as your father did. If they call, Cairon, you must help them. Promise me that."
"I promise, Grandmother," Cairon replied.
The old woman rolled onto her back, her vacant stare shifting to the ceiling. "Good boy. Now go back to your games."
Released from his father's comforting hand, Cairon wandered back to the game pieces on the table. One by one, he stood the pieces back up then, in experimentation, picked up the king piece. The figure was an older man on a throne of what looked to be wood, although it was set in stone. A vine and flower pattern edged the throne and the robes of the king. A crown encircled the balding head. In one hand, the figure held a sword. In the other hand, he held a shovel.
Cairon placed the king piece next to the jester piece. Then the horse rider pieces took flight once more, and the dragon hunters were vanquished again.
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