Hey guys; here is the upload! We are close to the finish but a lot will happen so look out for the little things! Enjoy! VOTE, COMMENT, FAN! thank you so much for all of yalls support!
~Rose
Chapter 17: Discovery
The walk back to Elijah’s house was silent. I could clearly tell Elijah was deep in thought; with the mornings events I think everyone was. It was too curious about how I could speak to Illyria as if she were my own dragon. None of us knew what to think; it had never been heard of before. Once we reached the cabin Elijah was a flurry of activity. He paced the large room gathering and collecting different items.
“Elijah what are you doing?” I asked stepping in his path forcing him to stop and speak.
“We are going into town; we need to figure out why you are bonded to Illyria. There is a store; at store that still posses’ books from the fire council we may be able to find answers there.”
“The fire council?”
“They were council of the first dragon heirs and held the list of the heirs to come. When the king began destroying dragons and their riders the council dispersed taking the list and their histories into hiding. This store was incredibly hard to find; the owner was a part of the council,”
“Then wouldn’t he have a dragon?”
“No actually, he was a scroll keeper who tended to the council, so when they fled he fled with the dragon’s history.”
“Wow,” I breathed. Dragon history, my history, Moorwin’s history; all within our grasp. “Will it be safe to go into town? With a warrant out for my capture?”
“You can wear a hood; and Ariya I’ve had the kings wrath on me most of my adult life.” He chuckled.
After that we both quickly gathered items for the day’s journey into the nearest town; Elijah told me it was called Wren. I pulled on the woolen jacket along with a full black cloak Elijah had given me. We tacked the horses and set off. We rode in silence for part of the way but it quickly became unbearable.
“Elijah, are you alright?”
“What?” He asked his head turning to me; I had interrupted him deep in thought.
“I asked if you are alright. Does it bother you that I can speak to Illyria?”
“It does but doesn’t it’s a curious thing. I don't want you to feel as if you are imposing on me in anyway, you are something I’ve been praying for all these years.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve prayed for something to change me, something to change the way I’d left things in the capitol.”
With that I left no response I was at a loss for words, I was changing his life just as he was changing mine. We left his house as if we were heading towards the clearing but instead of entering the woods we continued alongside it on a well worn path.
We kept riding and riding and the silence kept growing but this time it wasn’t a silence to break it was a silence of calm. For the first time in a while I was completely at ease; I let all my worries slip away and let myself dream of a time when none of this existed. When everything was simple and I went home to my family where we laughed over our meager meals.
I sighed; all of that was gone and could never be brought back. I would never see my parents faces again; hear their laughter and receive their love. How I missed them terribly; but I had to push back the past and look towards the future. That’s what lied ahead not wishing for my parent’s resurrection.
“I was orphaned at a young age just like you.” Elijah spoke breaking the glass of silence.
“How did you know I was thinking of my parents?” I asked surprised.
“I could see it in your face, it reminded me of me when I lost my parents.”
“Oh,”
“They were killed in the war before the King’s father took the throne. I was only eighteen; it was hard since I had no siblings to lean on. No one cared enough to house me so I found my way on my own.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Yes but it made me the man I am today; just as your parents death will do to you. It makes us stronger.”
“I bet, but it hurts a lot,” I gave a tenitive smile tears glistening in the corners of my eyes. From there the trip was short. As we entered the small village that reminded me of the market back home; Elijah led to a small farm on the edge of town. He dismounted; I followed him.
“Watch them,” He said handing me his horse’s reins. I stood and watched as Elijah walked away, he knocked on the door and when an elderly man opened the door he casually entered the modest cabin. Elijah returned taking his horse from me; he was followed by an elderly man who had answered the door.
“Hello,” the old man smiled. He had balding white hair that was no more than thin wisps; his face resembled old shoe leather, crow’s feet happily lined his eyes. “I can take her,” he nodded, I handed him Lady’s reins and he walked to a pen not far from his house.
“Let’s go, oh your hood, go on and put it up.” Elijah advised. I pulled up my hood covering most of my distinct hair; Elijah also donned his hood as we headed deeper into the small village.
We weaved through the buzzing crowds that darted about the market place. I tried my best to keep my hands to myself, but some particularly brash people forced me to react and push back.
Elijah finally stopped in front of a small shop; just down an ally off the main strip. The wood trimming was rotting off and in bad need of a fresh coat of paint; it was slowly beginning to chip away. The sign was only half hung; the other end was dangerously low and the chinks of metal holding the other end up looked rusted to oblivion. Tilting my head to the right I read the sign “Redhurst Books.”
“Are you coming?” Elijah asked a brow arched as his hand rested on the knob.
“Of course.” I shook my head clearing my mind. Following Elijah we entered the ramshackle store, as he pushed the door open a tiny bell rang.
The store was coated in layers of dust. Ornate rugs littered the floor, others were stacked in corners. Every wall was covered in wooden book shelves; on them were old dusty books and yellowing scrolls. The shop was incredibly narrow, even more so with books piled as high as the ceiling, some of the taller stacks teetered nervously. To the left was an aureate looking desk; it was made of red wood, it hauntingly reminded me of the doors in the castle. Gold was imbedded into the wood and the corners were hand crafted.
“Elijah!” Smiled an older man; he appeared from behind a moth hole ridden curtain. His brown hair was speckled with gray paired with an equally gray bushy beard.
“Rowan,” Elijah smiled warmly stepping forward brining Rowan into a friendly embrace. Rowan looked not to be much older than Elijah; most likely in his fifties. “this is Ariya.” Elijah beckoned me forward; he reached out pulling the hood from my head. “She is…” but Rowan sharply cut him off.
“A dragon heir; your arm child, your arm.” His voice was filled with a giddy fever. Unsure I glanced to Elijah who gave me an encouraging nod. Nervously I lifted my left arm to Rowan; he nearly yanked me off my feet attempting to get a closer look. “My gods.” He muttered under his breath as he ran his rough hands over the scarred mark. “Curious, very curious.” Rowan dropped my arm and scurried past the curtain. Rustling was ensued by the falling of books.
“Rowan?” Elijah asked stepping towards the curtain.
“Fine! Fine, make yourselves at home!” Elijah and I shared a glance at one another. By the look I gave him he clearly saw my optimism about Rowan.
“Rowan is a bit eccentric, but he posses vast knowledge.” He assured me. Rowan came tottering back out his boots looked to be two sizes too big.
“I am not some crazy old coot my dear.” Rowan laughed motioning Elijah and me to the counter. “I may be a bit scattering brained but crazy I am not. If I was then this wouldn’t be you.” As he was speaking he flipped through the massive leather bound book he had returned with. Delicate gold inscriptions covered the entire spine and covers; it appeared to being foreign language. “That’s the language of the gods my dear,” he turned the book towards us his finger resting on a hand painted picture. It was a girl with hair like flames, she looked remarkably like me. “My dear this was written two hundred years ago; a prophecy.”
“I’ve heard it; the gypsies have it as well.”
“I doubt they have the full prophecy, merely shards. This book has been solely in my possession since before the War.” Reflexively my hand snatched up Elijah’s; he squeezed my hand; resting his other arm over my shoulders. Elijah painfully reminded me of my father.
“What does it say?” Elijah spoke, asking the words I was too scared to say.
“It reads,” Rowan’s finger glided along the words as he spoke them. “After the Fall of the Dragons one shall rise from the ashes. Born of ash and flame the Child of Fire is born. Rider and Dragon shall be as one with many, and Dragons shall prosper at the Death of the inciter of Death himself. Passion and Fire shall bear a child greater than the one risen from ashes.” Rowan’s words hung in the air like ice forming on glass.
“Passion and Fire shall bear a child? What is that supposed to mean?” the new prophecy frightened me by far more than the other one.
“Regardless of that, Ariya didn’t you hear, ‘Rider and Dragon shall be one with many.’ It implies what we already know. You are the Child of Fire. Rowan she can speak to Illyria just like I can as well as become one entity in flight.”
“Curious, I shall answer both your queries.” Rowan flipped through more pages along with more muttering. “Here we go.”
Illustrations covered every inch of the page. On the left was a depiction of the Child of Fire he red hair wreathed in a gold crown. On her left was an indigo blue dragon like Moorwin, her right was a pale jade green dragon, Illyria.
“This is your dragon,” Rowan smiled pointing to the blue dragon. “and this,’ his finger tapped the other. “Is yours.” His eyes connecting with Elijah’s. The girl had a hand on each dragon; she was robed in obsidian black, everything was done in impeccable detail. Both dragons had individual scales.
Rowan’s face suddenly grew dark. “From what I can tell Elijah, I fear in telling you but the connections in this image between the girl and the two dragons, if this is indeed Illyria, somehow she becomes her dragon,” when he said her Rowan’s eyes flicked to me. His words were met with silence. Slowly I turned to Elijah meeting his eyes. I knew how closely a dragon and their heir bonded. Taking Moorwin away would be the equivalent to ripping my soul in half.
“Elijah you know I would never take Illyria from you.”
“I know that child,” Elijah looked inexplicably perplexed.
“You have a theory.” Rowan spoke causing both Elijah and I to jump.
“I do,” his voice growing somber. “It could be that I die, and since Illyria is somehow bonded to you; you are her tether to life.” Elijah’s words left us all in silence. Nor Rowan or I know what to say.