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Curse of the Dragon Chapter 4
Festivity: A festive celebration or occasion.
It had been so long since Mytho flew like this.
Of course, he traveled to other countries on political tours and conferences. The different capitals were spread far and wide across Terra's expansion. Thus, constant flight was a necessity. Under the suffocating cover of a flying luxurious carriage and stifling defenses of his knights on pegasus-back, the Prince would be safely transported from city to city.
But, no. This was different. This was absolute freedom.
Mytho knew very well that this was not the time to enjoy himself, as the love of his life was nowhere to be found. With the wind tousling his silky pearl hair and the horizon reaching out miles before him, however, he couldn't help but sigh in contentment. It was just him, his pegasus, and the skies.
To think, he used to do this every day, settled on Orion's saddle and enveloped in his mother's embrace. He was always happy that his mother took him into the air with her; no one else in the Chateau did in fear of Mytho's safety. The stuffy coaches were too closed-in for his claustrophobia. He needed wide, open spaces and fresh air.
His earliest memory of Orion and his mother was, like so many childhood memories, as much fiction as fact. He saw a young boy flying over a country roadside late into the evening in his mother's embrace, gripping Orion's gray mane. They flew higher and higher. The boy reached up with his small hand, higher than the rest of the world--not at all like a budding Prince or an embryo ruler, but as a curious and fascinated child wanting to know what those twinkling lights really were.
"Those are stars," his mother whispered to him, sweet and calming, "They are so much brighter than any candle you have ever seen. They'll never stop shining."
"Mother," the boy replied, "a candle needs wax and a wick. What does a star use to burn so brightly without wax and a wick?"
"Hope."
The boy's golden eyes shimmered in amazement. He extended his arm to grab as many stars as his small hand could carry, and shoved them into his pocket. Maybe they would light up his room when it was time to blow out the candles and sleep. No one could blow out a star…
Orion neighed beneath him. It had been hours since he started his search, and already the moon rose high above. The stars twinkled, but he had no urge to reach up and take one.
The last part of his memory must have been very wrong, indeed, because people cannot fly high enough to grasp stars, and a child cannot hold more than one in the palm of his hand. His studies under the Chateau instructors educated him on star structures. Hope was not part of the composition of the sun. The Prince sighed at the absurdity of this recollection.
He scolded himself. Ahiru needed him now. Reminiscing would have to wait.
Mytho let out the reins, leaned forward, and squeezed Orion with his legs. They picked up speed.
"No matter how long it takes, Orion, we'll find her."
A large hand roughly grasped Ahiru's shoulder and jolted her from her sleep.
Her eyes snapped open to see two menacing green orbs boring into her own, glaring deep into the recesses of her very being. "Get up," Fakir growled, his voice soaking with malice.
Her heart pounded and her pulse echoed in her ears. The oil lamp that sat on the drawers burnt out, but the emerald eyes continued to gleam in the darkness, staring fixedly and angrily at her.
She couldn't move.
"I said, get up!" He roared, snatching her arm and yanking her off the cushion onto her shaking feet. She winced when her bare toes made contact with the icy stone floor. If not for his bruising grip around her wrist, she certainly would have crumpled to the ground.
Fakir jerked her forward and out into the dark stone hallway, whipping her head backward and almost popping her shoulder out of place.
He swiftly twisted her around, pressing her arm painfully into the small of her back. His grip didn't waver, even as he clenched her shoulder with his free hand and pushed her forward into the blackness.
She couldn't see a thing. All she knew was Fakir's iron hold and absolute and utter nothingness. Her muscles tightened, her upper lip rose, and her eyebrows drew together.
No…oh, no…please, no…
He stopped walking and released her.
She flexed her hand, attempting to restore the blood circulation to her numb fingers, and rolled her shoulder. She turned to look at him.
Nothing but darkness.
Ahiru was smothered by it. Every way she looked, there was nothing. No sign of life whatsoever. She clutched her pendent. Terror took complete hold of her, and her breaths turned shallow.
Too dark…too dark…help me…
Then, a small ember began to grow from a candle to her left.
A relieved sigh escaped her lips. It was just one little candle, and it couldn't reveal much, but it was something in the nothing.
Another candle flickered to life. Then another. Ahiru blinked.
Suddenly, she found herself in the middle of a circle of small, lit candles. Her heart rate increased once more.
She could see everything inside of that circle, including the dragon symbol on the floor of which she stood. But nothing was visible past the line of light.
The rustlings began.
Chills darted up her spine as she heard the swish of their tails in the darkness. She knew what they were. Dragons, all with teeth and eyes and scales and claws, following her every move with their penetrating eyes. In the shadows, they were grinning.
One by one, the candles flickered and went out.
She wanted, yearned, ached to scream, but she could only turn and run. There was nothing anywhere but the darkness.
No shelter, no safety. She had lost her way, and she was alone. The dragons began to laugh and roar.
Her legs ached, pleading with her to stop and rest. They begged her to just let them take her and do as they wish.
I'm so tired…
But she continued running through the darkness, fueled by their mocking whispers and breathy chuckles.
"Haaaaaa…Where are you going so early, little giiiiiirl…?"
"Haaa…Let's become very well acquainted, yeeeees…?"
"Haaaaa…Child, won't you come baaaack…?"
"Go away! Leave me alone!" she screamed back, clutching her pendant like a lifeline.
A light grew ahead of her, and a silhouette of a figure stood in front of the brightness. Ahiru pushed herself forward, refusing to look behind her. If she could only reach that light..!
"Ahiru!" the figure called, outstretching his arm to her.
She knew that voice. He had come to save her! Relief flooded her senses, and his voice washed all the horrors away. "Mytho!"
With a leap, she threw her arms around the Prince's lithe form. His arms wrapped around her protectively, shielding her from the dark and warming her heart and soul.
Ahiru never felt safer. He was here! He was here for her, and he came to look for her! She clutched onto Mytho, happiness, gratefulness, and deep, satisfying contentment filled her, almost making her burst from sheer completeness.
His hands rubbed small circles on her back gently, rocking back and forth. She smiled and looked up to see his wonderful face.
"Oh, Mytho…I was so scared…!"
She stopped when her blue eyes met, not gold, but a deep, blazing green…
The light shattered, all went dark, and dragons roared.
"Ohhhhh…!"
tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, BANG!
"Gah!" Ahiru jerked out of her slumber, tumbling off the cushion and landing on the cold stone below. "Ow…" she whined, rubbing her bottom. Honestly, how many bruises could a girl get within the span of twenty-four hours?
The little girl from the night before, Uzura, stared at Ahiru in wonder, head tilted and deep blue eyes wide in innocent curiosity. Her drum was poised in front of her and drumsticks held securely in her small hands.
After a few moments, Ahiru grew uncomfortable under the intense gaze. Despite the adorable, round face, those eyes just seemed so…disturbingly large. "Uh…um…" Ahiru mumbled, shifting her position on the floor.
"Wake up-zura! Wake up-zura! Wake up-zura!" Uzura cheered right in her ear, pounding away on her drum.
Ahiru cringed and waved her arms frantically. "I-I'm all ready awake!" she tried reassuring the excited little girl.
Uzura ceased her racket to stare once more, sending chills up Ahiru's spine. "Ohhhhh! You're the ducky-zura!" Again, she bashed away on her drum. "Ducky-ducky-ducky-ducky-ducky-ducky…!"
This was awkward. How do you stop something like this?! she mentally screamed to herself. "Uh, y-yes, I-I'm the…ducky…?" Ahiru raised her voice over the beating drum. "M-my name is Ahiru!"
Silence. Stare. Ahiru shivered. What was with that look?
Uzura whipped around and scurried over to the table in the center of the room. She pointed to a plate of fruit and vegetables with a tiny finger. "Hermia brought breakfast-zura! Ducky woke up late-zura!"
It was morning? But it was so dark. Ahiru sighed and her shoulders drooped. Of course the morning sun wouldn't be shining in this place. She was underground, and the only source of light in the room was an oil lamp on the drawer.
In her dream, that oil lamp blew out. And, it was dark; it was darker than the room was now. The only things visible were those green eyes.
At the end of her dream, was that really Mytho? If it was, why did he appear? Ahiru clutched her pendant.
That nightmare…what does it all mean?
Two small hands placed themselves on her cheeks. She looked down in shock to meet Uzura's large, concerned eyes. "So sad-zura?"
Ahiru bit her lip. Despite the slight creepiness, this girl was too adorable for words. And just maybe Uzura had some answers…?
"Do you…do you know why I'm here?" she asked, "Why that man brought me down here?"
Uzura smiled sweetly, taking Ahiru by surprise and making her heart swell in her chest. "Elder said Ducky is going to let Uzura see the sky-zura!"
…What?
The little girl scampered to the cloth entrance. Before she took her leave, she twirled around and began beating her drum once more. "Eat-zura! Eat-zura! Eat-zura!" Uzura left, her chanting and thumping echoing in the hall.
Let her see the sky?
Ahiru stood up from her position on the cold floor, bare feet flapping on the stone. Despite the ripped and ragged condition of her peasant dress, it really was the most comfortable thing she ever wore. She brushed out her hair and braided it tightly as she always did, tying the end with the ribbon provided to her.
The sky…will I ever see it again? Ahiru clenched her eyelids and stopped her tears from forming. Now was not the time to cry like she had all the day before (and she was appalled by her own behavior). She needed to be strong and calmly find a way out of this.
That's what her mother and father would want her to do. And Mytho needed her to stay focused as well. At least until he could find her.
She nodded to herself. That's right. Mytho would find her, and she'll be safe and in his arms.
Ahiru marched right past the bowl of fruits and vegetables, ignoring the groans of her stomach. If they intended to really kill her, who knows what kind of things they put in her food.
Taking a deep breath, Ahiru pushed back the cloth and entered the hallway.
There was only one way to go, and she followed the stone corridor until she reached the scantily-furnished living room. Empty.
She glanced at the main doorway. Should she…?
"And you're free to roam about around the village if you want…" Rue said the night before. Ahiru straightened, fists clenched at her sides and determination in her heart. She pushed back the cloth and walked outside.
Wyvern was still as dim as it was last night, but it was still entirely different.
What seemed to be a shell of a village the night before now was bursting with activity and something like a celebration.
In the center of the hamlet, everyone gathered. Many different faces were involved in movement and music. It was nothing like the ballroom galas of her childhood, filled with extravagant dresses, good posture, proper etiquette, gossip, choreographed waltzes, and forced grins. Nor was it reminiscent of the obnoxious sprees of the more dangerous cities that she heard about.
It was so much different. Everyone wore the simplest quality of garments (though not anything inappropriate) and they moved with such freedom and natural grace on their slippers and bare feet. Even their smiles, while small, were sincere and full of genuine joy. They did not laugh like hysterical maniacs, but it shone in their eyes; they were utterly content.
While poor, it was apparent that they were cultured and educated. Most were joined in hands in a large circle, prancing around gleefully. In the center, a few of them played very old, but still usable instruments. Uzura banged on her drum, surprisingly keeping time with the beat. There was a young man with yellow hair, strumming away on the strings of an antique guitar that no one made anymore. Another man with dark, wavy hair delicately slid his bow across the neck of his dated cello. A third with black curly hair held his violin beneath his chin, his bow moving in quick strokes over every chord. Ahiru was most intrigued by the vintage piano, keys expertly played by a man with purple hair and spectacles. She wondered how they were able to move that piano out into the square like that.
In front of the musicians, Fakir danced and played his horned instrument while Rue celebrated en pointe.
Their movements were so utterly elegant and breathtaking that it made Ahiru want to cry. Twirling into a pirouette, leaning into an arabesque, leaping into a grand jete…
It was powerful and it was gorgeous.
And all the while, even as he was dancing so with such strength and conviction, a beautiful melody wafted out of Fakir's horn. It was simple, happy, and so different from the melancholic tune she heard when she first met him.
...Are all of these people monsters? But they're all so...!
"Beautiful…" she mumbled before she could stop herself.
Everything stopped. Music ceased, dancing halted.
All eyes snapped to her, some widening in fear, most remaining carefully neutral, and a others hardening in distrust. Fakir and Rue were expressionless.
Ahiru had never felt so exposed in all her life.
She jumped when Uzura's drumming came from out of the blue. "Ducky-ducky-ducky-ducky-ducky-ducky!"
The crowd separated to reveal a smiling Raven standing between Fakir and Rue.
"Ah, good morning, Miss Ahiru. Glad you could join us."
Karon all but had a heart attack when the trumpets sounded outside the walls of Vineta.
This was not good. The Prince was not even present at the moment!
He stared out the window at the flashy parade weaving through the streets of the city. His heart pounded faster and faster as the caravan crossed the stone bridge over the moat, growing ever closer to the Grand Chateau.
Karon trembled as he made his way to the entrance hall. He dabbed his sweating forehead with his handkerchief and prayed silently for this to go well.
General Lysander and Captain Humphrey stood by his side as well, their armor rattling as they shuddered in apprehension.
Finally, the great doors opened. Trumpets resounded obnoxiously, petals fluttered, and sparkles scattered about. A bull charged in.
"Bon jour, Monsieur! It is I, the Great Prince Femio of Rungholt!"
Karon was just too old for this…
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