Daron's Quest
Chapter 1: Loss
His eyes slowly shifted open, blearily, as he came into consciousness. 9Daron99 tried to look ahead of him, but his vision was obscured, vague shapes floating around his line of sight, nothing distinct enough to make out. Daron tried lifting his arms, but trying to make him feel delirious, he just about had enough energy to bring them up to his face and rub his eyes, drowsily. He felt terrible, the taste of bile lingering in his throat, his eyes red, and puffy, his stubbled face and messy hair, his dishevelled features and his dark eyes putting his profile into contrast. He was lying on something, without a blanket, still wearing a white vest and black denim jeans. What he was lying on wasn't clear, it didn't feel too hard, but it wasn't comfortable either. He tried to shake his head, and concentrate, but just shaking his head added enormously to the pulsating headache in his forehead. He rolled over onto hid back, but rolled over a little too far, and fell, flat on the unforgiving carpet with a few millimetres of soft material, and an inch of hard material below that. He found himself staring up at a blurry white ceiling, it was either looming over him, or hiding away from him, he could not make out perspectives. He looked to his left, and saw something that looked vaguely like a TV, looking to his right, he saw the black fireplace, and the mantelpiece. Looking directly behind him, he saw the sofa, which he must have fallen asleep on the night before. He lay there, and considered. Or, tried to, rather, it hurt his head to think. Eventually, he had to get up, this was the reality. But, he was hungover, and could barely move. No, screw the hangover, he could do it, he could get up, he could move, he had to. He summoned up all the energy he owned in his body, tensing his muscles, clearing his mind, and leaned up. He felt dizzy, all of a sudden, horribly dizzy, and sweltering, the feeling one got before being sick.
He fell back down to his hands and knees, and threw up upon the carpet. A horrible taste lingered in his mouth, he tried to ignore it, but, he still needed the energy to get up, and get his girlfriend. No, Katra wouldn't want to see him hungover like this, he would have to deal with it on his own. He got up, with enormous difficulty, and staggered out of the room, unable to walk in a straight line, as he veered out into the corridor, slamming into the wall, before turning around, and walking towards the kitchen. Retching, a burning sensation came over him again, he tried to fight the feeling, but he could taste the bile in his throat, rising, he made it to the kitchen, before he threw up again. Scrambling around in one of the cupboards, he found a large bowl which he slammed onto the table, upside-down, before roaming around, trying to find a glass to get a glass of water. Just as he found the right cupboard, hands reached out, and opened it for him. Those hands took a glass, ran it under the tap, and handed it to Daron. Daron slowly turned around. It was Katra. In her dressing gown, staring at him, a mixture of exasperation and defeat upon her face. She pulled up a chair, sat Daron down, and upturned the bowl incase he needed it. Daron looked miserable. He took a swig of the water, half of which ran down his face, half of which remained in his mouth, which he did not swallow. Instead, he gargled with it, and waltzed over to the sink, where he spat it out again. He sat down again.
There was a long silence. Neither Daron or Katra said anything for a while. Until, Katra, gave a small sigh, and Daron lowered his head onto the table.
"Daron ..." she struggled to find words. She was not angry, more exhausted. "Daron, this can't go on, you know? You can't keep living off of me, and then stagger into my home, drunk, every night. You've got to do something with your life, Dan." Daron merely gave a groan, which was his way of saying, 'I'd like to say something, but I'm too hungover.'
"Your life has got to change, and it's gonna start today. We're gonna sober you up, and then get you off to a restaurant to get breakfast. After that, we're going to go job-hunting. Come on, you go lie down on the sofa again, I'll clean up the mess, give you a blanket, a glass of water, and some time to get yourself well rested. Then, we're going out," she said firmly. Daron could do nothing but mutter "Yeah," and let her take him by the hand, and lead him over to the lounge. He sat back down on the sofa, and, within two minutes, he had fallen fast asleep, oblivious to Katra, in the background, sitting behind him, stroking his hair. In five minutes, when Daron had started to snore, she gave him a kiss on the forehead, and went upstairs to get changed.
Daron stuck the fork into the pile of spaghetti, miserably, twirling the fork around, before leaving it to stand upright. He was unhappy, and it was obvious. Reaching his hand out for his glass of wine - that Katra had bought for him - he decided not to, and lowered his hand on the table halfway to the glass. Daron's mood was making Katra feel a little concerned. She reached over the table, and held his hand in hers.
"Hey, Dan, cheer up, I mean, come on, we're gonna go and get you a job after breakfast! You'll be able to start living your own life!" Daron looked up at her.
"Yeah, I'll have a great life, I'll get a few gold coins a week for bagging shopping at the local General Store," Daron replied unenthusiastically. Katra squeezed his hand, and leant over to give him a kiss on the lips.
"That's never going to happen, Dan. The smithing firm I work for, I can get you a job in admin, easy, high up on the charts, making more than me.
"Don't exaggerate, the best you'll be able to get me at Smiths & Jones is a job as a delivery boy. You know that as well as I do." Katra sighed.
"I suppose you may be right, Daron, but you've got to at least have hope. Hope is the essence of life, without it, all will be lost. Remember those words, treasure them, some day, you'll find out what hope can do for you. I mean -" Katra started. She broke off, mid-sentence. Something was strange about the expression forming on her face. It was concern, but not concern for Daron. Daron followed her eye as it suddenly moved to her wine glass. The golden liquid inside had broken equilibreum, and was starting to ripple. She looked at Daron's glass, it was doing the same. Something was vibrating underfoot, Daron could feel it, too. Katra's eyes narrowed. Daron had lifted his head, and was now as distracted as Katra. Something was wrong. Daron slowly got up from his seat, tucking his chair in, he had only moved a few paces before it happened. The whole building shook violently, Daron was sent toppling to the floor, he banged his head on the leg of a table, and swore loudly, clutching his forehead, but, his voice was drowned out by the deafening noise that followed. A piercing, agonising roar, that could be heard miles away. Daron shielded his ears, but the roar still pounded in his ears. At last, it subsided, Katra got up, grabbed Daron, and ran towards the entrance. The bouncer on the door stopped them in the path, he looked terrified.
"Don't go out there! It's a Dragon! A Dark Dragon's come to Azñaon!" Daron and Katra were petrified to the spot.
Silence followed throughout the restaurant. Then, the screams filled the room. Madness consumed the small room as people tryed to find some way out, the staff all urging them to stay inside. Katra had already drawn her sword and shield. And then, once more, the Dragon overhead let out a scream, everyone was immediately crippled, the sound had a strange paralysing effect that rendered people unable to move at the sound of it. Katra had her hands over her ears, still holding sword and shield, but, she could see Daron, and was trying to communicate to him. Then, the roar subsided, and she was able to talk.
"Daron! I can use the sword! It'll let us move when the Dragon roars!" She shouted, over the screams coming from the people in the restaurant. Daron nodded, and, together, they ran outside, the bouncer tried to stop them, but Katra held her sword in front of her, so the bouncer could not get any nearer.
"But, you'll get killed!" He protested.
"No, if the Dragon takes down this building, you'll all be crushed, it's safer away from this village," Katra shouted back.
"You'll never get out of the village, not with that Dragon!" Katra ignored him, and the pair began to run. They could see the village now, it was already partially destroyed, whole buildings lay in rubble, dead, mutilated bodies littered the street, and those who were alive were running, screaming, in all different directions. They looked up as they ran, and saw the Dark Dragon, up ahead. As they saw the gargantuan beast, they skidded to a halt, and ran in the opposite direction, stopping somebody heading the other way at the same time, bringing them away from the Dragon. but, the Dark Dragon had seem Katra and Daron, and it turned around, to stalk upon it's fresh prey.
It roared, but, that did not stop Katra and Daron, Katra clutched the powerful sword tightly, and, it started to glow a bright white, pulsating vibrantly, illuminating the carnage that surrounded them. The sword was priceless, a heretic sword that had been passed down through her family for hundreds of years. And, it was saving their life down, by dispelling the paralysis that the Dark Dragon's roar caused. But, both of them knew that they could not outrun the Dragon forever. They turned a sharp corner, sprinting as fast as they could down the village streets, the Dragon behind them, destroying everything in it's path, including people. Daron and Katra saw a tight alleyway, and ran down it, hoping it would put off the Dragon. But, no, it would not, the Dragon simply flew above the alleyway, and breathed fire upon them, which they managed to dodge by a matter of inches. Suddenly, Katra tripped over. Daron got her up, but then dived, taking her with him, out of the way of a torrent of fire from the Dragon. They quickly scrambled up, and burst out of the alleyway. Now all they could do was keep on running. Daron and Katra were both exhausted, but the pure fear kept them going, the terror of what chased them. Katra, as she ran, fished around in her rucksack for her quiver, but, as she was doing so, she didn't see what lay on the ground in front of her. It was a piece of shrapnel, she ran into it, and sliced her shin open, making her trip over. The pain made her scream, Daron urged her to get up, but she couldn't, so he took her sword and held it in front of him, shielding her, as the Dragon approached. It was only as the Dragon did come to a stop, that he suddenly realized, he didn't know how to use it.
He was sweating, terrified, as the Dark Dragon came closer. It roared, the pain shuddered through him, but he could still move, in that time, he tried to get Katra up, she just managed to get up with Daron's help, but, she was now sobbing, and she could not move forward at all. Daron handed her the sword, and spun round, as the Dragon raised it's claws. There was nothing he could do. His eyes widened as everything seemed to slow down, time came to a halt, spectating the incident about to happen. The claws of the Dragon glinted in the sunlight, and paused for a second. The sword did not matter, Daron was paralysed, with fear, he could not move, and, it was then, that the Dragon swiped. Daron closed his eyes, and felt nothing. Nothing came. There was no pain, no sense of dying, and, he opened his eyes. Maybe the Dragon had decided to go, or had been killed. But, no, it was still there, it had struck, and let out a triumphant cry, that hurt Daron's ears. He looked towards Katra, if they hurried, they could get away while the Dragon was distracted. He saw her. She was transfixed, doing nothing, staring ahead of her, at the Dragon, her eyes null, and lifeless. Daron's heart pounded. Everything seemed to go in slow motion again. Katra, fell backwards, onto the hard, concrete pathway, her head rolled to one side, and her stomach was exposed, her skin ripped apart, mutilated, with five distinct claw markings upon it. Katra, was dead.
It wasn't real. It wasn't happening. This couldn't all be true, Katra couldn't be dead, she had to be alive, she had to, Daron thought desperately.
"Katra! Katra! No, Katra, wake up, Katra! Katra, come on, baby, wake up, Katra!" Tears streamed down his face as he screamed in desperation at the lifeless figure that lay, ragged and bloodied, upon the floor, utterly dead, she was now far from where Daron's cries could be heard. He did not care about the Dragon, let it kill him, he had nothing left now, Katra was gone, dead. There was nothing he could do. He sobbed over Katra's dead body, as he heard the Dragon roar behind him, he knew it was raising it's claws for the second time, and this was Daron's last moment too. Protecting her body from any further harm, crouched down upon the floor, he shouted,
"Goodbye, Katra, I'm coming for you." He closed his eyes, tears still running down his face.
The Dragon swiped. Daron felt everything move at once in a blur of colour, as he was thrown away, out of the Dragon's reach. Somebody had dived to protect Daron, to get him out of the way, that man now brought Daron up, and ushered him away. Daron had never seen him before, the man wore Dragon armour, and carried a sword and shield, his stubbled face deadly serious.
"Go, get out of the way, go now!" The man shouted at Daron, he was holding Daron back, who desperately wanted to stay by Katra, with his other hand, the man waved the sword in the air, and sliced the Dragon's arm, causing it to roar in pain. It was the fact that Daron still held Katra's sword, and that the man was holding Daron back, that saved that man from the paralysis that would have consumed him otherwise.
"No, Katra, no! Let me get to her, I want to die by her side!"
"No!" The man bellowed at Daron. "She died to protect you, and you'll get out of here now, else she'll have died in vein!"
"But if you stay, you'll be paralysed, you need this sword to dispel it!" Hearing this, the man reached out a gloved hand, and gripped the hilt of Daron's sword tightly, in the meantime, slashing at the Dragon with his sword. The sword Daron held in his hand glowed brightly, and, when the man relinquished, his two hands were glowing with the same bright magic that dispelled the paralysis caused by the Dragon's roar. Stepping forward, the man thrust the sword at the Dragon, the Dragon gripped the sword, and held it away from itself, the man withdrew and struck again, this time, he hit it. While the Dragon was roaring in pain, the man fished around in his pockets, and brought out a strange object, like a stone, only square, with some blue markings on it. He threw it directly beneath Daron, a hole opened up in the floor beneath Daron, and Daron fell into the teleport, away from the Dragon, to safety, away from Katra's body, leaving the man to fend off the Dragon.
Daron fell, feet first, from a hole that opened up in the sky, onto a deserted field. No Dragon, no people, infact, this was not the village at all. This was somewhere else, somewhere on another part of Azñaon, far away from the man that had saved him, far away from Katra's body. Daron fell to his knees. He thought of Katra. He would never see her again, never hear her laugh, never kiss her on the lips, never wrap his arms around her. He buried his face in his hands, and sobbed, at the thought of it all, wishing that he would just die, that it would all be over, that he could just take the quick exit. He yelled in grief, he did not care who heard him, nothing mattered anymore, not now that Katra was dead. It was a good twenty minutes, alone, in the field, in somewhere that he didn't recognise, to stop crying. He didn't want to do anything. He just lay there, in the empty field full of corn, silent, miserable, lonely.
Another half-an-hour passed, where Daron simply lay, not having spoken a word, crying a couple of times, but otherwise silent. Nothing really mattered, anymore, life was just endless loss and misery, forever. Why was he living, now? Why were the gods making him live, why couldn't he just go, fall asleep, forever? He wanted to die, he wanted no more of this dreadful existence. It was about another half hour before Daron finally summoned the energy to stand up. For the first time since he had arrived, he looked around. He was in a field full of corn, that much he had already gathered. A wooden fence surrounded this field from the other dozens of fields which stretched out into the horizon. No buildings, houses, shacks, anything. It was when he looked around for the second time, when he jumped, as he saw someone else, sitting on a tree stump, watching him idly, smiling at him. He was not wearing any armour, but a black work suit and tie, and looked quite out of place. His hair was dark, and everywhere, contrasting to his neat attire, and his smart features, even the line of stubble on his chin looked dignified. As he saw Daron up, he stood up himself.
"I'm Ulrich. I was at work, but I came when I heard someone out here. I thought you were in trouble, or something." Daron did not smile. Instead, he was horribly aware of the fact that Ulrich may have been here for a good hour, listening to him cry. He decided to move past it, or, at least try to.
"Where ... where am I?" Daron asked Ulrich, looking around again.
"You're still on Azñaon," Ulrich assured Daron. "This is just outside a suburbia, called Kalan. If you like, I can take you back to Yañé, to say goodbye to Katra." Daron looked up, and reacted without thinking. He charged forward, at Ulrich, and took him off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground. Pinning him down, Daron shouted,
"Who the hell are you?! How do you know all about what happened?" Ulrich smiled, grabbing Daron with one arm, he threw Daron off of him with ease, and stood up. Wiping dust off his suit, he then held still, as he began to change. His black executive suit disappeared, and was replaced by Dragon Armour. In his hands materialized a Dragon sword and shield. The shield, he hung on his back, the sword, he slid into a scabbard.