Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

would be cold to the touch. He sensed it calling to him, like a heartbeat pounding in the darkness, his ears its only destination.

Everybody else was sound asleep. The dim glow from the fire illuminated the rise and fall of their chests as they slept. The satchel sat beside Aeson, the egg within. Calen heard it echoing.

Draleid.

Was he losing his mind? What would someone say if he told them that an egg was calling to him? It called out words that he did not understand, and only he could hear it.

He stared across the makeshift campsite. He stared at the large leather satchel, beaten and travel worn. He stared at its iron buckles, rusted and tarnished from the salty sea air of the journey from Valacia. More than anything, he stared at what it held within.

On a passing glance, nobody would have thought that such a worn vessel would carry something so important. It was legend that when Fane defeated The Order, he hoarded every surviving dragon egg in the vaults beneath Al’Nasla. None had ever hatched. The empire still had the Dragonguard and their dragons, of course, but not one new hatchling in all that time. It was one of the few things all the bards agreed on.

Calen hadn’t thought about what it might mean to Epheria – a dragon. A dragon not controlled by the Lorian Empire. It could change everything.

Draleid.

Draleid n’aldryr.

The voice was incessant, blocking out all other sounds. The embers of the fire should have crackled, slowly, like a rumbling river. The trees blowing back and forth in the night’s breeze should have rustled as they brushed against each other, and whistled as the wind swept through them. He should have heard the insects. But he heard nothing – except for the voice.

Draleid.

Calen buried his face in his hands. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a sigh. His head pounded, like somebody was beating it with a stick from the inside out. He pulled himself to his feet. The ache in his muscles and the raw skin on his thighs felt dull compared to the hammering in his head – it was a silver lining; he supposed. It was impossible to tell if he made much noise as he walked through the camp. The voice consumed all sounds.

Draleid.

Nobody moved in their sleep, but it was only a matter of time before he woke them. He could not focus on anything other than the egg.

He stopped a foot from where Aeson lay. He seemed to still be fast asleep, but that didn’t comfort Calen much. He saw how quickly Aeson leapt to his feet when Dahlen had stumbled into the camp.

Calen crouched down onto his haunches and inched his way closer to the satchel. The voice got louder the closer he moved to it. What would he say if Aeson woke up? He let the question float in his mind. He had no answer. He just hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

The voice was so loud now that Calen found it hard to focus at all. He felt the vibrations of each heartbeat pulsating through his body. He felt so hot that if he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that he was on fire.

“You hear it, don’t you?”

Calen’s heart stopped. The sound of the voice calling to him was gone. His skin rolled in a cold sweat.

Aeson’s eyes were open. He sat up with his elbows resting on his knees, his eyes staring directly into Calen’s. Searching.

There was a lump in Calen’s throat. Every hair on his body stood on end as fear soaked into his bones “I… what…”

“You hear it calling you. The voice. What does it say?” Aeson’s voice was calm and level, as if he hadn’t just found Calen reaching across him in the night, his arms outstretched towards a satchel that contained the egg of a dragon. How did he know about the voice?

“It… I just… How can I hear you? It…” Calen mumbled. His brain was not capable of forming coherent sentences. Even breathing normally was difficult. The voice that called to him had been so all-consuming that simply hearing Aeson’s words had surprised him.

Aeson smirked. “Calm yourself, my boy. No harm will come to you. I am not angry. As for you being able to hear me, that is a little trick of mine. It is called a ward. I will explain it some other time. For now, all you need to know is that nobody outside of this circle,” he said, gesturing his hand in an imaginary circle two feet in diameter, “can hear anything that either of us say. It also has the added side effect of blocking out that voice you have been hearing, which is why you can now hear me speaking.”

Calen sat there, dumbstruck.

“I’m not angry, but if you just sit there, staring at me with your mouth open, then I might become angry fairly quickly.”

Calen’s throat felt dry. He gulped. “I… I don’t know what it is. It just keeps saying words that I don’t understand. I… I think it’s the egg?”

If that meant anything to Aeson, he did not let it show. His face remained as stony as ever. “What does it say?”

“It says ‘Draleid,’ and um… ‘n’aldryr?’” Calen’s nerves began to settle.

“I see.”

“Do you know what those words mean?”

“I do.” Aeson nodded slowly. “They are words of the Old Tongue, Calen. Aldryr means fire. ‘Draleid,’ well… that word is something you should recognise. You have heard enough of Therin’s stories, have you not?”

Calen nodded, tilting his head. The word did ring a bell, but he couldn’t quite place it. It was like there was a block in his mind.

“Calen, the word ‘Draleid’ is one that you should know quite well. It means ‘Dragonbound.’ It was the name given to those whose souls were bound to that of a dragon by a magic older than time itself. The Dragonguard of the empire were once known as