his shoulders and sat back down. She was still thinking about the tattoo. If it had been made by magic, then why? And did that mean that there was more to it than just decoration? She never worried that much about her brother. He was tough and could take care of himself, but if he had been marked with magic….
“Thanks Sash,” said Legon with a yawn. “It’s getting late. I think I’m going to go to bed.”
Sasha smiled at him and nodded her head. “If you must. I will see you in the morning.”
* * * * *
Legon got up and stretched his arms above his head, then leaned over and gave her a huge hug. He walked out of the room, shut the door, and walked into his own. The bed was bathed in soft moonlight and looked wonderful. There was a slight breeze outside that made the room feel cool and nice. He undressed down to his undershorts and slipped under the covers. His mind drifted from thought to thought in a haze as oftentimes happens when one is falling asleep. Legon drifted to sleep in what felt like moments, never knowing that next door his sister lay awake, thinking and worrying.
Chapter Three
The Arrow’s Flight
“Gray is sometimes seen as a mix of light and dark. This, however, is incorrect. To the trained mind and soul there is no gray, simply light and dark, good and evil, joy and sorrow. Gray is only misconception, and it is in this misconception where failure occurs. Yet dark is not always evil, nor is light always good; you may move to one and find the other.”
-Lectures of Logic, House Paldin
Legon was walking in a misty field of soft heather. He couldn’t see the sky through the mist, but there was enough light to tell that the sun was up. He could barely see five feet in front of him. He could feel the mist fill his lungs with each breath and feel the weight of it. The mist was cool and felt good. Legon knew that he was not anywhere he’d ever been before. The weight and moisture in the air made his skin feel moist, like after a heavy rain storm. He was in the lowlands somewhere. I’m probably by the sea. Arkin told me they get… what did he call it? Foggy. Fog down by the sea, that’s what this mist must be, he thought.
There was sound coming from ahead of him. Something heavy was dragging, accompanied by thumps of something large hitting the ground. He heard a deep rumble that reverberated in his chest. The sound was moving toward him. He could feel his heart race. A branch snapped in the far distance and the dragging sound stopped. He could tell now that whatever was making the sound was right in front of him through the fog, but the snapping branch had made it stop, which meant that there was more than one of whatever was here.
Silence. A sound from overhead and a bit forward. What is it? Legon’s ears strained trying to place the sound. It was like breathing, but it couldn’t be. The breaths were long and deep, he couldn’t think of anything big enough to breathe like that. Then a thought came to his mind: Only a dragon would breathe that deeply. His body became rigid. It’s a dragon!
Up to this point his heart had been pounding with a sense of adventure, but now his blood ran cold and his heart seemed to stop beating altogether. The only dragons in the land were Iumenta dragons, and they were cruel and clever. The deep breathing caught for a moment. Legon stood stalk-still, hoping beyond hope that it couldn’t hear, smell, or see him. Then a new dread tore through him. Dragons can read thoughts! It doesn’t need to smell me! He had to run. He turned on his heels and bolted away from the sound, his legs and lungs burning as he sprinted. There was a snort and a grumble from behind him and from above there came a resounding thud… thud…. thud. The other dragon.
Legon felt the air in his chest catch with every thud. The sound was at first far away, then over him… and now in front of him. The ground shook and he heard the sound of claws scraping against rocks in the field. He was trapped. One dragon was behind him and the other in front. He wondered if dying was going