“I do not recall. I may have been too young to remember-and my memories are still disjointed, especially of my youth. But I believe that my family came from one of the clans near here.”
“The white clans were hunted to near extinction,” spoke the gray-haired man.
“It was obviously many years ago,” Drakis replied, “but I recall my. . my mother. . I believe it was my true mother. . telling me about our family to the north. She always spoke of going north and family at the same time.”
“And your father?”
“I do not recall my father, my lord.”
“Any other family?” the balding man asked.
“I. . I had a brother,” Drakis paused, looking away briefly and then, blowing out a quick breath, continued. “I had a brother whom I recall as being quite close to me. He, uh, he died-beaten to death by one of our masters. I may have had a sister. . but I cannot say with certainty whether she was my actual sister or some relationship our masters concocted for us.”
The bearded one spoke next with impatience. “What caused you to rebel in your master’s House?”
“I. . I don’t know what you. .”
“Where did it start?” the balding man urged. “What brought you to the point of breaking the bonds of the Devotions?”
“Well,” Drakis thought. “I guess it all started with the song.”
The bearded man’s eyebrows arched up. “What song?”
“Well, it’s not really a song, I suppose. . I’m sorry, my lords, let me answer your question. I suppose in a way it started with the dwarf. .”
“Wait,” the balding man said, holding up his hand. “Tell us about this song.”
Drakis looked puzzled. “Well, it’s something that seems to be running in my head all the time. It wasn’t always there, but the dwarf calls it. .”
“The Song of the Dragon,” the bearded man finished.
“Well, the Dragon Song actually, but. .”
“Enough. Drakis. . come with me.” Shasa stood up from his chair and stepped in front of Drakis, crossing to the right side of the room. He took a torch from the wall and then stepped down to the corner of the lodge, beckoning Drakis to follow.
“Look here,” Shasa said, pushing the torch closer to the wall.
Drakis leaned forward, gazing at the relief carved into the wood planks. It was crude by elven standards-almost primitive-but the figures were unmistakably human.
“This is our story of what will be,” Shasa said, as he moved slowly down the wall with the torch. “The other walls tell of our past and our present but this wall. . here. . tells us the story that is yet to come. It is the story of the man who will be a slave but will break his own bonds. It is the story of the man who will come out of the south and journey across the waters to the ancient home of our people now lost to us, hidden beyond the clouds. It is the story of the man who will bring back the glory of humanity that was lost and destroy the oppressors of the land. Look here!”
Drakis drew himself closer to the carvings, following Shasa’s pointing finger.