Heather knelt down and produced a handkerchief. “I know,” she said gently, drying his tears. “I know how hard it was for you when she passed. I can see it within you.”
“No one will tell me how she died,” Martok said. “Why won’t they tell me?”
She held his hands. “You are such a brave boy. But there are some things that are too grown up for you to know yet. You must have faith that your father knows what is best for you. When the time is right, I'm sure he’ll tell you what you want to know. Until then, try not to think about it too much.”
Somehow, her words eased his pain. A pain he'd constantly tried to hide from his father. A pain that, until this moment, he thought would never go away. “Are you alive?” he asked.
Heather cocked her head. “Do I look alive to you?”
Martok looked at her closely before nodding. “Yes. And you feel alive too. But father says you lived a very long time ago.”
“That’s right. I did. And my true body passed on many years before you were born. Long before even your great great grandfather was alive.”
“Then how are you here now?”
She took his hand. “Come. I will show you. Then afterwards, you can ask me anything you want. Is that a deal?”
Martok smiled up at her. “Deal.”
* * * * *
When arriving back at the top of the canyon, he found that his father had not returned to the cabin. Instead, he was sleeping on the ground just where the downward path started. Though Martok didn’t know what time it was, given that his father was always an early riser, especially when away from their home, he guessed it must be still several hours before dawn.
The smiling face of Heather lingered in his memory. It was a face he could never forget. Neither would the feelings she'd brought out in him ever fade. Even now he could close his eyes and imagine himself wrapped in her loving embrace. All was well. The painful sorrow of losing his mother was now gone. He no longer worried over how she had died. When his father thought he should know, he would tell him, just as Heather had explained.
As quietly as he could, he sat down beside his father’s sleeping form. It looked like he was having another of his bad dreams. Every few seconds his face twitched and he moaned softly. These dreams happened quite often at home, too. Martok had heard the screams in the night, and seen the scratches on his father’s face the next morning. Naturally, he would have them healed before the house staff could see them. But why did he continue to suffer so much? Heather could help him; Martok was sure of this. She could take away his pain and banish his nightmares if he asked her to. But this would not happen. She had told him so.
“Ralmar loves me,” she had said when he asked if he could go back up and fetch his father. “As do all of my children. But he also fears me. He would not want to come.”
“Why? You’re not scary.”
Heather laughed softly. “Not to you. But you are different.”
“Different how?”
“One day you will see. For now, though, it’s enough for you to be a little boy. Let the troubles of adulthood wait. There will be time enough for them later. Besides, if your father was here, I would not have all of your attention. And right now I do not feel like sharing your love with anyone.”
He ran into her arms. “I love you the most. More than any of your other children.”
“Yes. I know you do.”
Placing this memory aside, Martok touched his father’s arm. “Wake up. I’m back.”
He had barely finished speaking when, in a flurry of motion, Ralmar shot bolt upright. His head immediately darted from side to side and his breaths came in short rapid gulps. Clutched in his right hand was a green ball of energy that sizzled and sparked wildly.
Martok scurried back, eyes wide with fear. “It’s me, father. It’s Martok.”
Only after a tense moment did recognition come to Ralmar’s face. The magical energy vanished. “I…I’m sorry son. I was –”
“Having a bad dream,” Martok said, completing his father’s sentence. “Was it about mother?”
Take no notice of the question, Ralmar reached out and pulled his son close in a firm embrace. “I was so worried about you.”
He waited until his father had released him before speaking. “Why were you worried? I was with Heather. She wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me.”
Ralmar forced a smile. “I know she wouldn’t. But you were gone for so long. I almost came down after you.”
Martok gave him a curious look. “I was only down there for a few hours. It’s not even dawn yet.”
“No. You left here in the evening the day before yesterday,” he said. The tremor in his father's voice told of just how afraid he had been. “I watched you as you climbed up onto the platform. Then, after a few minutes, you disappeared from sight.”
“Disappeared? No, I was there the whole time. Honestly I was. But...well...I suppose it might not have looked like that. Heather used magic to make it seem as if we were in all sorts of wonderful places. It was amazing. I wish you could have been there. But we never really went anywhere. At least, that’s what she told me.”
Ralmar scrutinized his son for a time. A warm smile then formed. “As long as you’re safe, that's all that matters to me.” Pushing himself to his feet, he gathered up his blanket and pillow before heading toward the cabin. “Come. You can tell me all about it in the morning after I've finished sleeping. We still have a long journey ahead.”
“Where are we going next?” asked Martok.
“You wanted to see dragons, didn’t you?” He gave him a wink.
“Yes, I do. But we don’t need to go anywhere to see them. They can come to
us
.”
Ralmar shook his head. “I’m sorry, Martok. Dragons won’t just appear because you want them to. It doesn’t work that way.” He wrapped his free arm around his son. “But don’t worry. You’ll get to see them. I promise.”
“No, father,” he protested. “They can come here. They really can.”
“Let's talk about it tomorrow, eh,” Ralmar told him. “Right now, I need some more sleep. I’ve barely closed my eyes since you left. So do a weary old man a favor and save your questions about dragons for a few more hours.”
Martok frowned. He didn’t have questions. He had answers. Heather made sure of that. How he loved her. And how he wished his father would love her the same way he did. But then again, no one could love her
that
much.
The dark circles under his father’s eyes and the slight stagger in his steps banished any further discussion. He truly hadn't realized how much time had passed since first going down the path. But now that he thought about it, he wished it had been even longer.
Inside the cabin, his father was fast asleep only seconds after plopping down on the simple bed. Martok slipped in beside him and snuggled up close. He recalled his uncle telling him that one day he would not see his father in the same way: that he would look upon him as being just like any other man. And when that day arrived, things between them would be changed forever. He didn’t want to believe that. His father was
not
a man like any other. He was great and wise, and would always be so.
Feeling safe in his father’s arms, Martok began to drift into dreams filled with the magical wonders revealed to him by Heather. His life no longer seemed uncertain. And the thought of his father passing into the realm of spirits no longer troubled him. He knew now that he would dwell in an everlasting paradise with past generations of their family.
When the first light of the morning began peeking in through the window, he could hear that his father was already awake and about. Even when driven to exhaustion, he was still an early riser. Martok, on the other hand, felt content to remain in bed for a while longer.
“I know you’re awake,” Ralmar told him. “Your eyes are cracked open. Get up, lazy bones. We have much ground to cover today.”
Martok stretched and yawned. “Why? I already told you…the dragons will come to us.”
Chuckling loudly at this suggestion, Ralmar retrieved an iron pot filled with steaming hot porridge from the stove. “I guess anything is possible. But in case they don’t come, you need to eat. The walk to where the dragons nest is mostly uphill, and I’m not about to carry you this time. You'll need all the energy you can get.”
Martok slid from the bed and sat at the table. He knew his father was only teasing. He had carried him many times before when the terrain became dangerous or the journey was too far for his short legs to keep up. But he wouldn’t need to this time. That was for certain.
After finishing breakfast, they gathered up their things and were on the very point of leaving when a tremendous thud sounded from close by outside. So great was the impact, the entire cabin shook violently for several seconds. Ralmar reacted instantly, shoving his son protectively behind him. At the same time, his entire body glowed with the aura of magic.
“Cast your wards the way I taught you,” he ordered.
Martok simply smiled. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, father. I told you the dragons would come to us.”
Ralmar regarded him with utter confusion. “You can't really believe that.” Nonetheless, he turned back to the door and cracked it open ever so slightly.
“By the spirits,” Martok heard him gasp.
Slowly he opened it fully. Martok was quickly at his side.
Standing just near the edge of the canyon was an absolutely enormous dragon. Its bright violet scales, caught in the reflection of the morning sun, sparkled as though made from a thousand precious gems. The pure white horns atop its massive head were worn like a crown denoting it as being the king of all beasts and the ultimate authority in power. With silver eyes staring unblinkingly at father and son, it blew out small gusts of steaming hot breath.
Ralmar remained rooted to the spot, looking on in absolute astonishment. Only when Martok moved forward and stepped outside did he snap out of his stupor.
“No, Martok,” he said in a hissing whisper. “Stay back. Do not approach it.”
Martok smiled at his father. “It’s not going to hurt us.”
“Dragons can be unpredictable. Please. Just stay behind me.”
The creature let out a deep rumble.
“He thinks you should be more trusting.”
Ralmar looked with a stunned expression at his seemingly fearless child. “You can hear it…him?”
Martok crinkled his brow. “Can you not?”
“No, son. I can feel his presence. But my connection to these creatures has never been very strong. Others I know of could sense their emotions, but very few have ever been able to actually communicate with them. It’s a rare gift.”
He could see an odd look of concern on his father’s face. “Heather said I was special. Maybe this is what she meant.”
The dragon shook his head and hissed.
Martok nodded in understanding. “He says that you don’t hear him because you're afraid. He says you
could
hear, if you really wanted to. But most of our family ignores the dragons these days. It's not like before.” He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. “I think they miss us. They want us to come and see them more often.”
Ralmar slowly advanced and touched Martok on the shoulder. “Stay here, son. Just for a moment.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but his father persisted. “Please. Just for a minute.”
Though frowning, he nodded his agreement.
With his right hand extended in a gesture of friendship, Ralmar cautiously moved forward. The dragon eyed him closely every step of the way. As he drew near, it raised its back. Instinctively, Ralmar cast a protective ward around himself.
“He’s not going to hurt you, father,” Martok called. “He’s just nervous.”
A tense laugh slipped out as Ralmar banished the ward. “
He’s
nervous?”
He continued on until only a few feet away from the dragon's maw. A sharp breath grumbled from somewhere deep inside the creature's throat. Ralmar reached up. At first the dragon raised its head away from his touch, then, in a change of heart, gradually lowered it until making contact with just the tips of Ralmar’s fingers.
“I
can
hear you,” he whispered in sheer wonder. “Only faintly…but I definitely can.” He turned to call back: “I can hear him, Martok. You were right.”
After a few seconds of this contact, the dragon raised up and spread its colossal wings. Ralmar took the hint, stepped back a few paces, then hurried over to his son. With a mighty leap the creature was sky born, the wind from its wings howling like a gale. Ralmar could only stare after him as he vanished beyond the tree line.
“Are you all right, father?” Martok asked, tugging on his sleeve.
His father lifted him up, cradling him in one arm. “How did you do this?”
Martok shrugged. “I don’t know. I just did. Heather said I could hear them if I wanted to. She said that before the great mage houses formed, the Dragonvein’s were like a real family to the dragons.”
Ralmar looked at him in wonder. “What else did she tell you?”
“Just that I had a great destiny ahead of me.”