Again, Mournblade flicked up and deflected the next attack before parrying left and right. Asher had seen all he needed to understand the nature of the weapon. Feigning his next attack, the ranger suddenly dropped into a roll and grasped a handful of snow before finding his feet again. A flick of the wrist sent that heap of snow directly into Gideon’s face, blinding him.
As suspected, the Vi’tari blade was useless if its wielder couldn’t see. Asher swatted Mournblade aside with the flat of his sword and planted a forceful boot into Gideon’s chest. The old master left the ground with a yelp of surprise and pain. Only seconds after he impacted the snow, the ranger speared the tip of his blade into the ground beside Gideon’s head, avoiding the obvious killing blow.
“Again,” Asher grunted.
Gideon wiped the snow from his face and collected Mournblade on his way back up.
“I’ve seen you fight,” the ranger said. “I’ve seen you on the battlefield against hordes. I’ve seen you defeat all manner of evil. Hell, I’ve fought you myself more than once. I can still see it in you - the boy who returned from Dragons’ Reach a bold warrior. But you’re hesitating now. You’re relying on that fancy blade instead of what’s up here,” he added, tapping the side of his head.
“I know,” Gideon admitted, catching his breath. “I’m not blind to the doubt that haunts me.”
“He beat you,” Asher stated simply. “You challenged Alijah and he beat you. Don’t be defined by his victory. The Gideon Thorn I know has always got back up. That’s what makes you more dangerous than everyone else. And that will be what Alijah fears the most.”
The old master was overcome with a reflective expression as he absorbed the ranger’s words. “You are wiser than you look,” he replied bemusedly. “Perhaps you are beginning to…”
Gideon’s words lost their definition in Asher’s ears. He could see the old master talking to him, but the world was drawing in on itself, losing its sharp edges. His broadsword fell from his limp grip, though he was entirely ignorant of it hitting the ground. Instead, he found himself on his knees, his vision directed towards Inara. Gideon was suddenly by his side but the ranger took no heed of his actions.
The egg was out of the satchel.
Inara held it out for all to see as a new crack tore a jagged line across the egg’s scaly surface. As the egg was cracked, so too was Asher’s mind. There was an instance of pain. Then nothing. The world was snatched from him, taking any sense of orientation with it.
With no power to deny them, images, sounds, and smells were forced upon the ranger from a time and place that was not his own. He saw men and women adorned in the garb of warriors. Some were talking while others demonstrated their use of magic or sparred with exquisite blades. Then there were the dragons. They dominated the sky in a variety of sizes and colours, displaying their magnificent beauty. It was Drakanan.
The ancient home of the Dragon Riders rose up around Asher’s vision in all its glory. Then, he himself rose, leaving the mountainous fort behind. The ranger flapped his wings and soared above all the dragons until Erador was laid bare beneath him. It was freedom.
His vision splintered, taking with it the open sky. Now, he was looking down at a bronze egg in the low firelight of Drakanan’s main entrance. Asher watched through reptilian eyes as a Dragon Rider accepted the egg with a bow of the head before disappearing into shadow.
That shadow engulfed his sight until he was looking at the inside of his own eyelids. The ranger opened them to see Inara, Gideon, and Adan’Karth crouched over him. He was returned to the edges of The Dread Wood and its terrible cold. Then Ilargo’s horned head loomed over them all, shortly followed by Athis and his piercing blue eyes.
“What happened?” Asher croaked, sitting himself up.
“You passed out for a few seconds,” Inara explained.
“What did you see?” Gideon enquired with a hint of excitement.
Asher looked at the old master, wondering if he had pried inside his mind. “I saw…” He took a moment to compile everything he had seen and heard. “I was in Drakanan. A long time ago.”
Gideon glanced up at Ilargo while nodding eagerly. “It was a memory.”
The ranger was shaking his head. “How can I see anything?” he asked, gesturing to the hard shell that protected his dragon.
“There’s a reason dragons are known for their wisdom,” Gideon replied. “They have the ability to pass on memory if they choose to. Tell us. What did you see?”
“I was… I was flying.”
“That’s quite typical,” Inara said enthusiastically. “You see through their eyes.”
Asher rubbed his forehead. “I gave an egg. No. I gave that egg to a Rider.”
“He was likely taking it to the bonding chamber,” Gideon reasoned. “You were seeing through the mother’s eyes, Asher. That will have been the last memory she passed on.”
The ranger declined their help to stand and brushed the excess snow off his leathers. He accepted the egg and the satchel back from Inara but paused to inspect the egg in greater detail. For all the cracks that marred the shell, there remained another layer beneath, smooth in appearance, that was yet to show any signs of distress.
“What else can I expect?” he asked gruffly.
Gideon responded with a light shrug of his shoulders. “More memories. It’s a good thing though. It means the dragon inside is experiencing it all.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that when they finally hatch, they will enter the world with some knowledge of it. Though, the world you’re both seeing is long past. Hopefully, your hatchling will begin to absorb some of your memories and bridge the gap.”
Asher failed to hide some of his distress. “My memories are no place to
