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

Draleid, but they bring shame to that name. Together, roughly translated, ‘Draleid n’aldryr’ means ‘Dragonbound by fire.’”

“Yes…” Calen whispered, his memories flooding back to him. He couldn’t understand how the word had not registered with him. All Therin’s stories about the fall of The Order, Fane Mortem’s betrayal, and the rise of the empire – the Draleid were part of it all.

“Sometimes the Calling can dull your mind. It often happens.”

“I remember now. Alvira Serris, she was a Draleid.”

“Yes, she was. One of the greatest to have ever lived.”

“But… wait. What does any of this have to do with me?”

Aeson paused, his eyes locking on Calen’s. He twisted and grabbed the satchel with both hands, moving it between himself and Calen. “Calen, I’m going to lower the ward. Therin is awake, and I feel him probing at it.”

“Therin? What do you mean?”

“Therin is a mage, Calen. A powerful one. From a time long before that title was claimed by the Circle of Magii.”

Calen wasn’t sure what to say. He should probably have expected it. His entire world had been turned upside-down in a matter of days. What was one more thing? Therin is a mage. “I—”

Therin’s voice cut straight across Calen. “I see you finally decided to let us in.”

Calen twisted his head around to look at Therin. Just a foot or so behind him were Dahlen, Erik, and Dann. Dann looked about as confused as Calen felt. Erik and Dahlen were unreadable. They stared past Calen at their father, an impassive look in their eyes. Although, for a second, Calen thought he saw an irritated frown flash across Dahlen’s face.

“I did. I believe it to be time.”

“Time for what?” Calen asked. “What are you talking about?”

Aeson looked at Therin, then back at Calen. He pushed the satchel towards him. “Calen, I believe that you are to be a Draleid.”

Dann and Erik gasped. Every hair on Calen’s body stood on end. A knot twisted in the pit of his stomach. Has he gone mad?

“You have heard the Calling, the ancient magic that binds the souls. It can mean nothing else.”

A lump caught in Calen’s throat. “How… that can’t be possible. There is a mistake. You’ve gotten it wrong.”

“I do not believe so.” Aeson pushed the satchel along the soil, closer to Calen. “Open the satchel and hold the egg. If I am wrong, then that will be that.”

Calen stared back at the man. Hold the egg? A dragon egg? He has gone mad. “How do you even know—”

“Just touch the egg,” Therin interjected. There was a firmness in his voice that Calen hadn’t heard before. Calen hesitated for a moment, unsure. But in the end, as had seemed to always be the case recently, he didn’t have many options. With more care than was necessary, Calen undid the two rusted iron buckles that kept the satchel sealed. They were stiff, and they creaked, but they gave way to his fingers.

The glare from the egg wasn’t as blinding as it had been the other night. The light from the fire was a far cry dimmer, and the canopy overhead was thicker, blocking out a lot of the moonlight. Even so, the egg gave off a glow of incandescent white light, just enough to make Calen squint. It was a strange kind of beautiful. The flowing snow-white scales, fading to black at the roots, were sleek and pleasing to the eye, but there was something about it. Something made it seem harsh – dangerous. Calen dragged his eyes away from the egg. “What do I do?”

“Touch it.”

Calen puffed his cheeks out, taking a deep breath inward. How did I end up here?

His fingers hovered inches from the surface of the scales. He could feel something. A steady thrum, something unseen that pulsed through the air. He steadied himself and extended his fingers. As soon as he touched the egg, everything flooded back. The voice boomed like thunder. Resounding cracks of sound that echoed through every chamber in his mind.

DRALEID N’ALDRYR.

Everything else melted away. It was just him, the voice, and the egg. Even his own heartbeat felt as though it belonged to somebody else. The surface of the egg felt cool to the touch, as if it had been left to sit in the snow for hours. That sensation spread up along Calen’s arms, washing through his body, filling him from head to toe. The voice etched itself into the back of his mind.

DRALEID N’ALDRYR, it boomed.

The words repeated, again and again. Each time, it was louder than the last. Every time he thought it would not be possible, it got louder, beating his brain like a war drum. The cool sensation built up in his body, like steam trapped inside a kettle, unable to escape. He felt like he was turning to ice.

DRALEID N’ALDRYR, it repeated, cracking like thunder.

DRALEID N’ALDRYR.

The cool sensation turned to pain. The voice was like a hammer, his mind the anvil. He screamed. “DRALEID N’ALDRYR!”

The egg erupted in swirling plumes of orange-red fire that snaked around its exterior, covering Calen’s hands. The flowing tendrils of flame thickened as they moved, encasing the egg in a shell of roaring fire. In his head, Calen screamed at the top of his lungs, but nothing escaped his mouth.

Suddenly, it hit him. His hands weren’t burning. He did not feel the pain that he should have felt. His skin wasn’t peeling from his body, charring and crackling in the flames. Instead, the cool, icy sensation that had permeated his body was replaced with a warm feeling, as if lightning pulsed through him. He felt strong, full of energy, like he had been asleep for a lifetime but finally awoken. And he was oddly aware of… something. Something that wasn’t there before. A feeling that scratched at the back of his mind.

As suddenly as the flames had appeared, they were gone. The world snapped back to reality as Calen dropped from balancing on his haunches. His knees crashed into the ground.