SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 6

Morning found Bartholomew well rested. He said good bye to Shadow and made his way down the mountain and to the Castle Angels’ Keep. As he walked, he felt a nervous energy building inside. He had waited so long for this moment to happen and now that he could physically see it in front of him, his stomach was in knots. What if all that he knew was wrong? What if the little conversation he had with Kirey were just the ramblings of an old man like Yerik? What if this whole quest was nothing but searching for a bone in a graveyard? What if this Carl person will not be able to help him?

Each step brought Bartholomew closer and closer to the tavern where he would soon learn some of the answers…or so he thought. The village was already starting to wake up. He walked past the blacksmith’s. That was strange! At first glance, it looked like two women were working the fire and anvil. That seemed a strange job for females but he shrugged his shoulders. Who was HE to say what was normal anymore…he had a dragon! He walked further down and around a corner and there, on the side of a building, hung a sign that read, “Diova Gruss Tavern”. He stopped abruptly and so did his heart. He was here. Bartholomew took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he put one foot in front of the other, walked to the building, and opened the door.

Purpose

The sun was so bright that when he first opened the door to the tavern, he was blinded and couldn’t see the darkened inside. He sensed that everyone turned and looked at him. As Bartholomew let the door close behind him, his eyes became accustomed to the dim interior so that he could make out those patrons scattered about the tables. There was a serving girl standing next to a table, laughing at something the man had said. There was a colorful bird along the back which looked iridescent in the sunlight from the window. There was a young man, probably about his age, standing behind the counter. There were two gentlemen sitting at a table finishing their meal. He had the feeling that his arrival caused all conversations to end abruptly.

Bartholomew nodded his head in a single greeting to everyone at the Diova Gruss. He was not surprised that conversation quit the minute he arrived. He was a stranger in their midst. Trying not to let it affect him, he walked up to the young man at the counter. “Hello, there. I was wondering if there was a man named Carl here? I believe he is one of the owners.”

Earnest looked up from what he was doing and he said, pointing to the table with the two men who were finishing their meal, “Yeah, he’s over there. You looking for work? We don’t have any openings at the moment.”

“No, I was told to come here and see him. Thank you.” Bartholomew approached the table. He still didn’t know which man was Carl. One of them looked to be in his 50’s, slender build with strong, capable hands that showed he was not afraid of work. His face was kind and when he smiled it reached his eyes. His hair was graying and not overly long. The other man looked to be older, maybe in his 70’s with white bushy eyebrows and longish white hair. He was sitting there smoking a pipe that looked vaguely familiar in shape. He had seen one like it recently. It looked exactly like the one Kirey was smoking in Morridin. He gave a little shake of his head trying to erase the memory and approached the table.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I was sent here to talk to a man named Carl. Would one of you be him?”

Carl looked up at Bartholomew and said, “Hello, Butch. Why don’t you sit down with us?”

Holding the bowl of the pipe in his hand, the older man pointed the tip at Bartholomew and asked, “So, boy, you hungry?” He made a slight wave and a nod to Earnest without waiting for Bartholomew’s answer.

Bartholomew didn’t know what to say first. First, his father’s name was Butch although that was a nickname that he had back in Dragon Mountain that a few older people used. But why would this man call him by that name? Second, the older man greeted him just like Kirey did yesterday, even to the same jester with his pipe. And, third, he looked very familiar! He said the first thing that came to mind, “Sorry, my name is Bartholomew.”

Carl looked hard at him and after a few seconds said, “Nope. You look like Butch to me. Come, join us. I am Carl and this here is Zigaroth.”

Bartholomew walked around the table to one of the vacant chairs. As he sat down, he looked more closely at Zigaroth. Zigaroth just sat quietly, smoking his pipe, the bowl in his hand. He took it out of his mouth and again used it to point at Bartholomew and stated, “Yes, I agree with Carl. You are the spitting image of Butch. So much easier to say than Bartholomew, too.”

“As you wish, sir. That is my father’s name and the villagers often called me by that name too.” Butch’s smile included both men. “However, my business is with Carl.”

“Well,” Zigaroth replied again emphasizing with his pipe, “Actually, your business is with both of us, Butch.”

Earnest brought some food and placed the plate in front of Butch. “Here’s the lunch special. The bread and pastries are Carl’s pride and joy so make sure to tell him you like it!” Butch was hungrier than he thought he would be so started eating almost immediately. By the empty plates in front of the two men, they had already eaten and he didn’t need to wait for permission. None of the men talked but let Butch fill his belly.

Carl watched him eat and waited until he had a few bites remaining. Then he looked Butch in the eye and stated, “So, Zigaroth tells me that you brought Shadow with you. After you finish up here, I want you to take us to him.”

Butch’s heart stopped, the last forkful poised half-way to his mouth! His face turned white as the fork fell from nerveless fingers and clinked against the pewter plate! He felt panic well up inside him and at the same time, his heart started racing again!

Zigaroth looked at Carl and said, “I think we better go. This is not the place for this conversation. Come, boy, follow us.” With that, he rose from his chair and started walking, not once looking back to see if Carl or Butch were following him.

The three men left the tavern retracing the steps that Bartholomew, or Butch, had just walked. Zigaroth was leading the way as if he knew just where Shadow could be found. Butch was not sure what to think anymore. Zigaroth looked so familiar and, if he didn’t know any better, would have said that they had met before today. Carl had a familiarity about him that he could not place, either. It wasn’t just in looks but in his mannerisms, the way he was walking and carrying himself. They reminded Bartholomew of his father in Dragon Mountain. He thought that by coming to the Castle Angels, he was going to find answers to the questions he had about dragon riding and the big war. Now, Butch was finding himself with even MORE questions that needed answers! He felt himself in quite a confused state and it was a very unsettling feeling which he didn’t like.

Zigaroth took them right to the cave where Shadow had been left. As Shadow came out and went over to Butch, Butch took off his glove and put his hand to Shadow’s head. Then the strangest thing occurred while they stood connected. It was a familiar sound accompanied by air movement. Both Butch and Shadow looked up towards the sky. Descending from the sky from higher up the mountain was a gold dragon. The gold dragon landed, walked up to Carl, and greeted her with his hand placed between her eyes.

Butch was speechless; his eyes big and his mouth wide open.

Carl turned and looked at Butch and simply said, “We are going riding. Mount and follow us.”

Both men mounted their dragons and were taken up, around, and over Tonathium Mountain with Carl and Baroness taking the lead. Butch and Shadow followed the older pair. It was quiet riding through the sky together, the only sound being the flapping of the wings of two dragons. The sun would be setting in a few hours but Butch wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t really thinking anything other than, maybe, just maybe, he would get some answers to his questions. After all these years of hiding Shadow, worrying over all the “what ifs”, he might have found someone he could talk to, relate to. And with that realization, his heart soared even as Shadow soared with Baroness. Butch did not pay attention to where they went or how long they rode together, just that it was two men with their two dragons.

Butch realized the ride was over when he saw Zigaroth standing exactly where they had left him. Both men landed their dragons, touched their hands, and turned to walk towards Zigaroth. Carl was the first to speak.

“Zigaroth, we must get to the inn immediately and sound the alarm. I spotted an army approaching from the south and it is of good size. We must send the Call to Arms to the Angels. The army is almost upon us so we do not have time for any delay.”

Then Carl looked at Butch, “Butch, we are about to be engaged in battle. Tell no one of what just happened with the dragons. We will talk soon. However, we must act swiftly and have no time to waste.”

All three men, walked swiftly back to the Keep. Carl rang the alarm as the sun set.

created originally 1 June 2011

SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 5

Since the old man was already gone, there was no sense staying in Morridin. He would have enjoyed talking more to Kirey, as it seemed like Kirey had some of the information that Bartholomew needed. Perhaps he could come back to Morridin, find Kirey, and ask him the questions. But for now, he needed to find the Tonathium Mountains, the Castle Angels, the tavern Diova Gruss, and a man named Carl. And in that order. He also had the feeling that all would be found north of Morridin.

Before Bartholomew left the village, he planned to stop at the Inn of the Sleeping Dragon for some guidance as to where to find the Tonathium Mountains. The way that Kirey talked, Bartholomew felt that he was close to finding out the answers to ALL of his questions. He felt the excitement grow inside him, giving him butterflies in his stomach.

He was so busy thinking of his good fortune that he walked into a middle-aged lady carrying some packages. He was jolted out of his revelry and exclaimed, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive my rudeness! I didn’t see you.” Bartholomew was embarrassed with himself and helped pick up the food that dropped from her arms.

“That’s quite alright, dearie. From the looks of you, your mind was somewhere else indeed.” She was very understanding and didn’t yell at him for his clumsiness. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

With excitement showing in his voice, he gave her the packages and replied , “I am journeying to the Castle Angels and a tavern called Diova Gruss. I believe it is on the other side of the Tonathium Mountains. I was just thinking of popping into the Sleeping Dragon for directions and any other information I might need.”

“Oh, dearie, no need to do that.” She turned and pointed to a distant mountain on the horizon to the north of Morridin. “There’s your Tonathium Mountains way over there. Just on the other side of them, you’ll find your tavern. Think you need to get to the Keep first though. Good people over there. You’ll like it! Here, take this apple with you. It will be a nice pick-me-up for your travels.”

Bartholomew apologized again for his rudeness and thanked her for the apple. He put it away and started the final leg of his journey. He was excited as he walked. He judged that it would take him about two days walking to get to the mountains. He wasn’t sure how close the Castle Angels were once he was on the other side. He felt safe in thinking that it might take about four or five more days at most to get there. And THEN he would be on his way to his answers.

He set a fast pace for himself, his energy level high with expectation. The wooded area north of Morridin was much the same as that to the south – the trees’ giant skeletons of branches without leaves jutting out of the earth, the ground scattered with broken and decaying branches. Just walking through the place gave Bartholomew the heavy feeling of pain and despair and hopelessness. He was very glad that it was daylight and not the night hours that took him through this place. The boulders, now covered with mosses, that were three times his size and jutted out of the earth, told their story of the upheaval that took place so long ago. That took his mind back to the Tree of Sorrow in Morridin. Never had he seen such a sight in his life. There were no writings that he had read that prepared him for a sight such as he saw. The dragon form was so large and precise but in the form of a tree. It made you wonder what type of magic was used and how strong it was. It made him wonder if the curse on these lands could ever be lifted.

He kept track of the sun and knew that he would need to find a resting spot before too long. Nightfall was approaching and so would Shadow. He didn’t feel comfortable having Shadow join him in this place with all that it represented from the War of the Dragons. He figured he had another few hours before the sun set, not a lot of time when you didn’t know what was ahead of you or where it would lead. He ate the apple as he walked, not wanting to take pause in his journey.

However, Bartholomew started noticing little changes as he went along. There were more green grasses and ferns. He was startled when he heard his first bird calling, having gotten use to the only sounds he heard which were those of his own footsteps on the forest floor, snapping twigs in his rush to get to the mountain. He knew that he must find cover for Shadow soon. He also knew he didn’t want it to be here. He hoped that he would be clear of this forest before much longer.

After a short while, he suddenly burst clear of the forest. And, there ahead of him, were open fields dotted with boulders and trees green with leaves. There, within his sight, jutting majestically into the sky were mountains. Bartholomew knew that he was close for there were the Tonathium Mountains. The racing of his heart had nothing to do with his push through the forest and had everything to do with reaching his goal. Taking quick stock of the lay of the land, Bartholomew veered to the east where he saw some large rock formations. Maybe this will be a good place to spend the night and wait for Shadow. There would be a bit of protection for them both while he thought of how he was going to get to the other side of the mountains looming in front of him. As he prepared for this friends arrival, he let himself think back on his encounter with Kirey, who seemed to be a strange man. Bartholomew was still not sure how Kirey was able to answer his questions when he didn’t speak them out loud. Were they obvious questions that anyone would have asked? No, he didn’t think so. The fact that Kirey mentioned the forest as being cursed, how many would have thought that? Why couldn’t it have easily been because of some other type of disaster such as fire or something? Who would automatically have chosen a curse? And then there was the comment made about Shadow. Bartholomew would bet on his life that he had NOT mentioned Shadow to Kirey at all. He was so use to keeping Shadow a secret that he was not about to bring him up at a first meeting of a stranger. There were just too many things that Kirey seemed to know about him that it gave him pause as to how and why.

The sun was now setting, her fingers of pinks first coloring the soft clouds in the skies. As she set further in the west, the sky changed from pinks to amethyst to yellows to orange, each color bleeding into the next. It was a beautiful site and Bartholomew was glad to see such a glorious color display especially after the gloom of the land he just traversed. It gave him the calm feeling of acceptance, that what he was doing was right and that it was worth the unhappiness of leaving his family to seek his destiny. As he stood watching the setting sun, he noticed a large object in the sky, sharply outlined by the background of the sun’s colors. He knew that it was Shadow. The emotions from seeing the Tree of Sorrow were still strong within him and he needed to connect with Shadow, needed the reassurance that he was safe, that they were both a part of the other. Bartholomew knew that should anything ever happen to him, that would be the end of Shadow, just like if Shadow were to die, then so would he. The lives of dragons and their riders were as linked in life as they were in death. The intense feelings he had experienced were not only for the dragon that lost its life there in Morridin, but also for the life of the rider that was lost. He closed his eyes and offered a prayer to the gods that he and Shadow would be spared a death such as that and they would have a long life with each other. The words no sooner left his lips and he opened his eyes when he saw Shadow land. He removed his glove and walked over to his companion, his hand extended, and touched him. He was at peace again.

While he sat eating his bread thinking about the rest of his journey, he stopped in mid-chew. He had it! He knew just how he was going to get on the other side of the mountain. How utterly simple it was! He was a dragon rider after all and he did have a dragon. He and Shadow would fly to the other side tonight and that would put him that much closer to his dream. He completed his meal and shared his idea with Shadow. The moon was now in its place in the night’s sky and he would fly under the cover of relative darkness. Bartholomew made his preparations, mounted Shadow, and together they took off, soaring in the night sky with the moonlight as their guide. It felt wonderful to be on Shadow’s back again, the wind at his face and the power of his dragon between his legs. This felt right! This was home! This was how he wanted to be!

They soared up and over the Tonathium Mountains and onto the other side. There, in the moonlight, he saw his first glimpse of the lands of the Castle Angels. The castle stood majestically between the mountains, her lands stretching out to the base of the mountains which surrounded and protected her. He immediately found a peace and calm cover him. He was not expecting such a feeling. As he looked down from Shadow’s back, he felt strangely at home. They flew a bit longer, neither one eager to end their flight. Bartholomew had seen some old caves on the mountain side so they went there to spend the night. Then in the morning, he planned to go down and find the tavern and the man named Carl.

Unknown to Bartholomew or Shadow, their night ride had not gone unobserved. There were two people who had seen their arrival on the Castle Angels’ side of the Tonathium Mountains, each with their own thoughts about the events that were about to come.

created originally 1 June 2011

SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 4

The days were starting to run into each other. They consisted of walking through unknown forests and towns, stopping in places off the beaten path and sleeping under the stars at night. Bartholomew always looked forward to the end of the day so that he could be with Shadow. They would often just sit together by the fire until Bartholomew would fall asleep against Shadow's large body…dragon and rider bonding even in sleep.

Bartholomew had also been noticing something else that was changing or maybe it was just him making the connection that had always been there but he had never given it much thought. The last couple of nights he paid particularly close attention to when his hand would start to throb and when Shadow would appear. He came to the realization that there was a greater physical bond that was developing between them since they left Dragon Mountain. The marking on his hand was becoming more visible as was a matching marking between Shadow's eyes. He remembered the summer festivals that his village would have and a lady would be there to read your palm and tell your fortune. He recalled the one time she read his. She said that it was strange-looking and not normal compared to others, something about his life, heart, and health lines all being connected. At the time, he thought that she didn't know what she was talking about. However, now he wasn’t so sure. The lines did look as if they were connected at the ends forming a triangle shape. When Shadow arrived each night Bartholomew's hand was drawn, as if by some invisible thread, to the spot between Shadow's eyes. The throbbing would stop the minute the triangles touched. There was a strange, soft-glowing energy that flowed between them whenever they stood together like that; touching their triangles, cementing their oneness, creating harmony.

There was nothing about the glowing mark and its significance in any of the readings he had come across. There were no stories told of the type of relationship between riders and their dragons. He thought that it was still very strange that he could find so very little to help him understand why Shadow and he were the way they were. Since he did not have the answers to his random thoughts of why and what and how, Bartholomew tried to put it behind him and rest with his companion. As they settled down for another night under the stars, he wondered how much further they had to travel. How far had they already covered? Bartholomew yawned, his muscles relaxing in Shadow’s warmth. He knew they still were heading north but that was about all he was sure of. As he drifted off to sleep, he wished he knew more – more answers.

Knowledge

Bartholomew was completely surrounded by trees; their sturdy trunks thick with age, their branches connecting each to the other.  The forest floor was verdant green from ferns, grasses and moss with splashes of color as the flowers reached their heads to gaze at the world around them.  Filtered sunbeams from above made pools of light and moved gently as soft breezes blew.  Everything was vibrant and intense.  He could smell the flowers but could not recognize them by name.  That’s when he saw her.  She approached him with measured steps.  She wore garments of green and almost blended into her surroundings.  Her long blonde hair glistened when she passed through each sunbeam giving her a special glow, an aura of brilliance.  He felt his eyes squinting as she passed through each beam.  She wore a unique headpiece nestled in her hair.  It looked like the sparkling stones were in the shapes of flowers; flowers that winked at him as she came closer.  He couldn’t look away; he was mesmerized by the sight of her.  She stopped in front of him.  She stretched her hand out and combed her fingers through his hair, connecting with him.  He felt her touch send a current through his body, warming him.  Her hazel eyes gave him nothing to fear as he looked into their depths.  Her rose-colored lips turned up as she smiled.  Then, she began to sing.  Oh, what a sweet melody.  He wanted to close his eyes.  But she held his gaze.  Her voice was soft, clear and pure.  He did not understand the words she sang but he felt a peacefulness pervade his whole being – calming his fears, giving him confirmation that he was doing the right thing, that this was his time in history.

He woke up with the last few notes of her song resounding in his head. He had to take a moment to figure out if what he experienced was a dream or reality. He lay there and could hear Shadow’s steady breathing as it was not yet dawn. It was then he knew that it was truly a dream and the Elf Queen, for that was who he thought she was, disappeared into the night.

He found that sleep now eluded him.  The words of the Queen’s song kept repeating themselves in his mind even though he didn’t know what they meant.  Why did he dream of her?  Did he have this dream to help answer his questions?  Was the dream a way of calming him down or was it just wishful thinking on his part?  Was she preparing him for something to happen or for nothing – success or failure?  His journey thus far had shown him that there were many things that he could not explain.  Did this dream, her words, fall into that category?  Questions came fast and furious in his mind.  The answers were not so quickly resolved.  Maybe he needed company other than his own.  Was this what it was like just before a person went crazy like Old Yerik back home?  Yerik did not come into the village often; in fact, no one knew exactly where he lived.  However, when he did he was always talking to himself, sometimes saying things that made no sense and sometimes arguing with himself and losing!  He would look off into the distance with a glazed look in his eyes and sing songs in a language no one knew.  His clothes were torn and unclean and hung from his body.  Mothers kept their children on the other side of the street fearing that whatever he had, it was contagious.  His unkempt white hair and scraggy eyebrows added to his crazed look.  But Yerik always took the time to look Bartholomew straight in the eye and raise one brow when he passed by him.  And for that moment, and that moment only, Bartholomew thought that Old Yerik might not be as crazy as he seemed.  Bartholomew could see the look of deep intelligence in his glance.  And every time that this had happened over the years, it sent shivers up Bartholomew’s spine and a tingling through his arms and legs.

Bartholomew decided that he would go ahead and start his journey earlier since he couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t wait for Shadow to wake. He gathered his meager belongings, taking stock of his bread supply. He had one small piece left and that would be gone before mid-day. He knew that he would need to find an inn to replenish his food. He hadn’t spent any money, his leather coin pouch still jingling with unspent wages. Before donning his glove, he went to Shadow and touched him, telling him goodbye. Shadow opened his dark eyes and blinked twice. Bartholomew turned and started making his way through the brush as he put on his glove.

As he traveled, he took stock of his surroundings. It looked like he was coming out of the forest area. The trees also looked different. He paused. Something was not quite right. Why didn’t they look right? He looked to either side of where he was standing. And then, it hit him. While the trees were tall, they had no leaves. There was no canopy of branches and leaves. They looked like forlorn skeletons standing in rows and groups. The green he saw was not leaves at all but moss clinging to the trunks and dead branches giving the illusion of leaves. The darkened sentinels were broken and lying on their sides, like old, broken soldiers. He had never seen a place with such a sad, forsaken look about it. He felt a pain close to his heart and sensed that some great tragedy had occurred here a very long time ago. He was shocked to see no new undergrowth trying to rebuild. No healing. No birds calling to their mates. No rabbits hopping around the ferns. It was as if this place, this land, was cursed by something evil.

It was then that he smelled it – a sickly, sweet smell. He sniffed the air, turning around trying to discover the source. Why did it smell so familiar? Where had he encountered it before? He was puzzled. He inhaled again. If only he could remember. It was quite distinctive and not a common tobacco smell at all. He stood there for a few more seconds. It came to him in a flash of remembrance! Old Yerik!! The tobacco from his pipe!!! Someone close by was smoking. Yes! That was it! He squinted his eyes and looked around him, trying to find the source of the smell. And then he saw him – the old man. He was sitting on a fallen log, his legs swinging freely as he smoked his pipe. Bartholomew slowly made his way over to where the stranger sat. The stranger didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge Bartholomew’s presence but just keep sitting and smoking and swinging.

Bartholomew ventured, “Ah, good day, sir.”

The stranger continued to sit. Holding the bowl of his pipe, he now looked intently at Bartholomew, his eyes moving slowly from the top of Bartholomew’s head to his toes and back up again. Bartholomew felt uneasy under the old man’s scrutiny. He had never had someone give him such a stare. The stranger took another puff.

While the old man looked him up and down, Bartholomew was fascinated by the pipe. He was well versed in the forest and recognized the wood as bog-wood. Bog-wood came from trees that grew near or in bogs and were usually preserved oak, pine or yew. The wood was naturally stained brown and when it dried out, it could crack or split. The knife-maker back home often used it for the handles of his daggers. But this was the first he saw it as a pipe. The bowl was large and fit in the palm of the old man’s hand and it had a long, long, curved neck and a small nub at the end. There were strange designs carved into the bowl but, without holding it, he couldn’t make them out.

Holding the bowl of the pipe in his hand, the old man pointed the tip at Bartholomew and asked, “So, boy, you hungry?”

It took Bartholomew a moment to realize that the old man had spoken to him. “Yes I am. I am also running out of food supplies and will need to buy some more before I can continue my journey.” Bartholomew raised his eyes and met the old man’s stare, square on.

“Then come with me.” He hopped off the log and started walking, not once looking back to see if Bartholomew was following him.

Bartholomew wanted to ask the old man his name. It would be so much easier for conversation. As he was about to open his mouth to ask, the man said, “You can call me Kirey, for now.”

Kirey’s quick response to Bartholomew’s unspoken question surprised him. It was like the old man knew what he was going to say before he had the chance to say it. He shook it off and asked, “Where are we going?”

“This village is Morridin and we’re going to the Inn of the Sleeping Dragon for your supplies. Ever hear of Morridin, boy?”

“No, I’m from the south. Is Morridin famous, Kirey?”

Kirey took two puffs, raised his bushy white eyebrows before he replied, “You didn’t read about it? Hmmm. It was the last battle in the War of the Dragons. Those trees back there have been that way since the last battle. And you’re right, it has been cursed since that day.”

The older man walked briskly so they reached the village square in fairly good time. He watched for Bartholomew’s reaction when he first saw the square. It wasn’t the square in general but the tree that stood in the middle of it that caught the young man’s attention. Bartholomew stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped and his eyes grew big. He found his right hand was rubbing his left. The throbbing was so intense that it radiated up his arm. For there, standing in the center, was a tree. It was not a tree like any he had ever seen. It was massive, with a gnarled and twisted trunk. Its roots reached out along one side of the trunk, its branches bent and intertwined. But the most amazing thing about this dead tree, what caught and grabbed Bartholomew’s attention and held him breathless despite the pain, was its shape. This tree with all of its parts looked like a dragon as it was dying! The ground on which it stood was scarred by deep gouges of unhealed earth, no doubt the result of a long ago battle.

“That, Bartholomew, is the Tree of Sorrow. It will forever stay like that to remind all mankind of the destruction that was caused during the War of the Dragons. That was the place where the last known dragon died. Ah, but enough of this, the Inn is just over here. Come.” Bartholomew slowly followed Kirey to the Inn of the Sleeping Dragon. There they ate in relative silence and Bartholomew purchased the items he needed to continue his journey.

As they left the Inn, they went back through the village center. Bartholomew walked over to the tree, Kirey watching intently. Bartholomew squatted down and reached his left hand out to touch the tree’s root. The pain was so acute that he bit his lip, closed his eyes tightly, and tried to not shake from the sheer intensity of it. If Kirey asked what was happening, Bartholomew would have to tell him that he could feeling the dragon taking its last breath as it lay dying. Being a dragon rider must have made him sensitive to the tragedy of this place, this tree, and the war that claimed the lives both of men and dragons.

Kirey came up to him and put his hand on Bartholomew’s shoulder. In a soft voice filled with emotion he said, “Take Shadow and continue north over the Tonathium Mountains until you come to the home of The Castle Angels. Look for the tavern called Diova Gruss and ask to speak to Carl, one of the proprietors of the tavern. He will be able to take you on the next part of your journey.” With that, the old man named Kirey walked away from Bartholomew.

Bartholomew stood next to the Tree of Sorrow and watched him leave. Only when he was no longer in sight did Bartholomew realize that not once had he mentioned Shadow to Kirey. So, how did he know?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RugSclNY4y8

created originally 1 June 2011