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She took another breath and bent down, small pieces of stone bit into her hands but the sting helped distract her from the small space around her. Everett’s presence was steady behind her but Puck seemed to have elected to stay outside and Claire couldn’t really blame him. The feeling of the stone beneath her palms was cool and quiet, quite different from the feeling of the earth.
If she cast enough magic, she could feel the Energy of the stone and trace the Energy deep into the mountain but it didn’t come as easily to her as it did in the Forest. She was able to find out that the tunnel ended only ten more paces ahead. It opened into a larger cavern space and Claire breathed a bit easier as she forced her pace to remain steady.
Finally, the tunnel opened up into the cavern space and Claire stood, brushing off the small pieces of rock that clung to her pants. They clattered to the floor, the soft noise seeming much louder in the large space. Claire looked around as Desmond began lighting some torches that hung against the walls.
She let out a soft gasp as they illuminated roughly sketched paintings on the stone. The paintings covered all four walls and the rough figures seemed to tell a story of violence if the third wall was any indication.
“What is this?” Claire breathed as she spun in a full circle.
“It’s an old legend of one of the dragon kings,” Everett said, his voice was also soft as if he too felt the reverence of the space.
“And a burial tomb,” Desmond said gesturing to the floor at their feet.
“A what?” Claire fought to keep her voice soft but couldn’t keep out the incredulous pitch at the end.
Malcolm rolled his eyes and shot Desmond a look. “Arumoredburial tomb. One that has long crumbled to dust if it existed here.”
“And who was buried in this rumored location?” Claire asked, eyebrows raised. There had to be some rule against disturbing ancient resting places.
“The Mad King.” Desmond gestured at the walls with an attempted straight face but the glee in his eyes gave him away.
Claire fought not to roll her eyes at him and Everett picked up the story as if sensing her growing frustration. She already didn’t get enough answers in other areas of her life, she didn’t need more non-answers as they stood on a tomb!
“It’s an old legend like Malcolm said. It gives a strong warning message against using dark magic.” Everett gestured towards the first wall of the paintings which showed a king on a throne and a smaller throne next to him with another dragon. “That was the king and the legend goes that his mate, his treasure, died giving birth to their son. The king was stricken by grief but his son became everything he had to live for.”
He gestured towards the second wall. “The son grew up into a fine young dragon but died in a freak accident. Overcome by grief and desperate to not lose his son, the king turned to dark magic and raised his son from the dead.”
Desmond picked up the story. “But all magic has a cost and none more so than dark magic. The king succeeded in raising his dead son but the son was not the same. The dark magic ate at him and he turned into a mass murderer.” He gestured towards the third wall where the son stood over hundreds of painted dead bodies.
“The king refused to see his son’s faults, so focused on keeping him alive and near him,” Malcolm continued. “But the Realm took notice as the killings expanded beyond the dragons’ borders. This is also the story of the first Triad.”
He gently turned Claire by her shoulders to face the final wall. Three men standing around a woman faced off against the Mad King and his son. “The Triad formed together when no one else in the Realm could face him. Together, they combined power and killed him. The Mad King committed suicide, unable to live without his son.”
“What happened to the Triad?” Claire asked, dread curling like a snake in her stomach, weighing down her lunch into a rock that shifted uneasily.
“The legend ends there but there were whispers that the Triad died after that final battle. All magic comes at a cost and the cost to stop the Mad King and his son was high,” Malcolm said with a serious face.
Was it too high of a cost? The Mad King and his son needed to be stopped but Claire couldn’t imagine paying it. And yet the first Triad did. She wondered how they felt. Did they know that would be the outcome when they went into the final battle or was that a decision they made in the moment? The thought of losing her Triad threatened to send her emotions spiraling anxiously.
“But there are other legends about the First Triad and the impact that they had afterwards so it’s unclear if they died or lived on,” Desmond said, squeezing Claire’s hand as if sensing her chaotic emotions. Whether he was just saying that to make her feel better or if it was actually true, Claire didn’t know but she appreciated the thread of hope that there was a happy ending after all.
“Either way, the legend warns strongly against dark magic. All of the children that grow up on the Dragon Mountains, grow up hearing this story,” Malcolm said. Claire bit her lip, turning in a slow circle taking in all the drawings. She imagined this story carried a chilling warning to young dragons.
“Well now that we’ve gotten the dark stuff out of the way, let’s show you what we actually brought you to see,” Desmond said.
Claire frowned. “You mean this wasn’t it?”
“No,” Everett said. “Although it’s an interesting story, we promised you less intense activities for this afternoon.”
Desmond moved to the far wall, the third wall in the painted story and pulled down on the torch that flickered underneath the painted victims of the Mad King’s son. A grating noise filled the cavern and Claire winced as the harsh echo hit her ears. A section of the stone about three feet wide and three feet tall dragged away, revealing another dark tunnel. The entrance to the tunnel shimmered with a ward and Desmond beckoned Claire closer.
“I’msoconfused,” Claire breathed and Malcolm chuckled.
“Do you remember me telling you that each dragon has a hoard?” Malcolm stepped closer and cupped her face with one of his hands, drawing her eyes up to him.
Claire nodded, closing her eyes briefly as the heat of his palm helped clear her head with a warmth only her men could bring.
“Well this is my hoard. Well, our hoard actually. We selected it when we stumbled upon the passage as young teenagers. Typically, hoards are placed all over the mountains and most dragons keep their whereabouts a carefully guarded secret. We elected to keep our hoard here, as this place isn’t exactly the most welcoming. A hidden in plain sight sort of thing.”
