Chapter 14
Lorcan It had taken me three days to ride to Lassair. I only knew to travel west. The lands changed from green and plentiful to a pale, dusty yellow and finally, an ashen black. My charcoal-colored horse seemed to belong here. Since my water supply was depleting, I knew I couldn’t keep him here for very long.
There was nothing but wind, rock, and ash for as far as the eye could see. I allowed Ashes to rest and climbed up a massive boulder to get a better view. The climb was steep, but I felt strong.
I scaled the rock and walked to the edge of the cliff. The winds picked up from this height, sweeping the sky with black dust clouds and causing the light to appear more purple than blue. But it did not distract me from my quest, for there, at the bottom of the cliff lay the Ring of Flame.
The place where dragons were born.
I found my footing and lowered myself to the bottom of the cliff. I knew the stories of the dragons, even as commoners, we were raised on the histories, but now I would see just how true those stories were.
According to the legend, the people of Abhainn’s favored weapon of choice was water, and they often attacked at sea, commanding the tide to drown their opponents. Borvo was rich in minerals and the land they desired above all others. A few men left Borvo and headed to Lassair where the fire gods were said to dwell. They needed a warrior to protect their land from the savagery of Abhainn.
The men fell before the fires of the Ring and begged the gods for help. A vision appeared to them: a woman clothed in flames of blue-the purest of all flames. She spoke to those who longed to defend Borvo, telling them only one who did not fear the flames would be able to align themselves with its magical fires. The path leading to the Ring of Flame was lined with the blackened skulls of others who had failed their the task, discouraging the men.
It was Charon who stepped forward, then only a boy of thirteen. He walked through the flames without fear and was reborn in the image of a red dragon. Seeing how the gods had favored Charon, the others followed him into the flames. They walked in as men and walked out as breathers of fire. Charon led his dragons back to Lassair where they defended the kingdom and ruled for a thousand years, until Savio.
As I walked the same path as my father had centuries before, I called on the power of the fire gods. “I am Lorcan Drago, son of Charon. I ask to walk through your flames and be aligned with the powers of fire my father before I claim.”
The red flames rose and danced, swirling before me until a vision of the blue fire goddess appeared. “And what proof do you have that you are Lorcan, son of Charon?” the unearthly voice asked.
I reached into the pouch I had tied around my neck and showed her the pin bearing the sigil of my father.
“That was made by man. Charon was born of fire. What will you do with your gifts if the gods favor you with flame?” the apparition asked, her blue flames flickering up and down in a sultry, hypnotic rhythm. It was easy to see how men could fall under her spell- lose sight of their goal and burn in the flames. I was determined to stay focused. I was the son of the dragon, Charon. I would claim my birthright.
“Charon was slain. As was my mother and all that followed the Clan Drago. I shall bring justice back to Borvo. I shall kill Savio and rule with the honor my father once did.”
“Are you afraid?” The apparition swelled, her flames stretching out to me. The heat was blazing against my skin.
“I have been exposed to flames before. I was branded by order of the false king. The fires could not harm me.”
The blue flames rose up and down, taunting me. “Come Lorcan, son of Charon. Abandon your clothes and walk with me in the fires.”
Stepping into the fire, without a flicker of fear, I allowed the ritual to take hold of me. The tongues of flames wound themselves around my legs, but my limbs did not burn. The fire spread its touch, enfolding me in its flames. I could see the fire goddess as she pressed her flickering body against mine, her limbs twisting about my body. Her heat pressed against my skin, warming my core. The flames wrapped themselves around my manhood, and I felt a foreign cry of pleasure escape my lips. The flames took hold of me and lowered me to the ground. I did not fight back but embraced every lick of flame. She laid her lips on my mouth and touched my tongue with her flames, giving me the breath of her fire.
“Lorcan, son of Charon, you are a true Drago.”