The Reason

"I believe in miracles, and that is just way hard. It's a fact, and one that I have to live with every day. I mean, seriously, how easy is it to stand up for your beliefs when death is staring you in the face? Struggling is a part of everyday life in these parts, but that's only because of rebellious people who declare their way is the best; and yet I get to see miracles everyday.

"I live in a war torn world where peace is a fanciful term that no longer has meaning. Indeed, Aregain has lush forests and blue lakes, deep canyons and wide open plains, but so what? There is quiet yes, there is calm, possibly, but that is only stifled air and dark, gloomy places that try to suffocate you in its grasp. That is where I see miracles come in.

"Presently there are only groups of people, no organizations really. Honestly,someone good should try to do something about that, but right now there is barely a notion of what in the world "good" really is. Believe me, I know what good is. There is no such thing here, and yet, there is something. Miracles, perhaps?

"My clan was going to become an empire, and we wouldn't be like the Babylonian Emperors, or the Roman Emperor, Nero. We were going to become something good for the continent, making peace for once. Or rather, that was the plan. You see, nobody was brave enough in my clan, so someone else came with some others and created an Airogo, or type of massive terrorizer bent on destruction of all that has value, or good, in this world. Why, I will never know: such evil is above my comprehension, but I know it happened, and I was going to fight it, miracles or not. Incredibly, I was able to find a small group of humans with intents like mine, so I joined their cause. Now, I am part of the Alliance, a group of people who will fight the Airogo no matter the cost, and that in itself is a great miracle.

"Even though my life has had many valleys and just as many mountain tops, I think the deepest valley was in the dungeons and torture chambers of Duke Inder, and it was there I learned to really believe in miracles"

Isaiah penned, hope welling up within him and pleasant memories of love and peace and joy flashing before his eyes. His eyes were fir green, his hair yellow blond. Fairly tall, he was muscular and an expert swordsman, dragon master and horse-lord.

He had been off on dragon back, hunting for his next meager meal. Of course, if he caught more than the scrawny rabbits that seemed to permeate the forest, then he would have a feast of elk stew and priceless carrots. He would cut the remains of the animal into strips, smoke it, dry it, and keep it for harsher times, if he found an elk, that is.

The wind was crisp in his face as he surveyed his surroundings from upon high. His acute eyesight allowed him to see with great precision over longdistances, so he had no trouble spotting a warren of rabbits on the hillside. Naturally, he wasn't exactly looking for rabbits. After solid months of the rodents Isaiah was on the lookout for more.

Snow white clouds zipped by underneath him, and there was a lot of oxygen this high in the sky. Isaiah breathed in deeply, and looked out over the uneven landscape overflowing with trees.

"This is the life…" thought Isaiah calmly to himself, "No evil, just me, my pals, and the world. Who could ask for more…?"

Concentrating again on the task of supper, he brought everything back into perspective, and swept his eyes over the forest below. A flash of movement brought his gaze to a small clearing over on his right.

"Insede!" Isaiah called out to the ruby red dragon, "On the right, XI degrees!" Isaiah readied a bow, and took aim.

"Got it!" Insede licked his chops in anticipation of a good meal. Moving through the clearing was a very large herd of elk, heading away from the hungry hunting pair. The elegant dragon gracefully banked to the right, and then hurled at breakneck speed towards the prey. Isaiah waited a second, and then at precisely the right moment released the string.

With an almost silent twang, the arrow was sent flying at the heart of a slightly limping cow at the back of the herd. The aim was true, and the female elk fell down instantly. Insede swooped down and chomped a young bulls neck, which broke instantly. He then made another turn, and landed gently in the clearing.

Isaiah leapt off of Insede and quickly made his way to the dead elk. He then sat down and began to skin the animal, which he managed to complete in a very short period of time. Afterwards, he cut the creature into strips and placed them in his hunting pack that was slung across his back right next to his quiver.

Something was not right, he sensed that much, because the forest was being far too quiet. There was not a single bird song, nor the sound of the crickets to be heard. Frankly, it was unnerving, so Isaiah packed swiftly, and said quietly to Insede,

"We need to go."

Insede had just finished, but he too had felt the unnatural silence of the clearing, so he ambled over to Isaiah hurriedly. Isaiah gripped the horn of his saddle and swung into his position on the graceful dragons back.

Then, suddenly everything just went wrong. Isaiah was knocked out o the saddle by an unexpected blast of sorcery, just as Insede took off. Another blast of dark magic flung the red dragon out of the sky and deep into the trees far away. An anguished roar filled the nearby clearing as the reptile struggled to live, but Isaiah couldn't see that.

After being knocked off his friend, he had rolled around to face his attacker, who wasn't where the blast had come from. Instead, Isaiah again got whacked from behind with more black magic. Jumping up again, he tried to at least catch a glimpse of his enemy, but again got knocked down.

Isaiah's vision was blacking out, but he held on hard. He decided quickly to pretend to pass out so his hidden attacker would come out into the open. Black clouds covered all around him, and before he knew it, he was out instead of pretending to be.

****** *

Isaiah woke up lying bound on a cot in a wet, deserted dungeon cell. He hadn't the slightest clue of the time, and his mind was still very groggy. Breathing deeply in the stifling air, he fought to come to his senses, and for the first few tries failed. However, after he got some oxygen flowing through his veins he was able to sit up in his cot and understand that his hands, in front of him, and his feet were both tied up with strong knots. With a heavy sigh, he fell back onto his cot and fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke to the booming clang of his door being opened and shut again. Jerking up as best as he could, he found himself face to face with a gruff jail keeper placing food on the ground. Isaiah stared blankly at the man, wondering how in the world he was going to eat with bound hands, and no way to traverse the two meters to the food. The man left as soon as he came, and left absolutely no way to eat the mouthwatering food he had left behind.

Dazedly he sat, pondering how to fill his now growling stomach, Isaiah sat up on his cot and gazed at his bonds. The aroma of the hot food reached his nostrils and he grew weak as his stomach roared at him. He flinched, and decided to try to crawl and eat like a dog. Getting on his knees, he slinked over and placed his head in the bowl, and ate. Upon finishing, he wiped his face, and scooted back onto his cot, where he fell asleep very quickly.

The whoosh of the door opening again awoke him from his slumber, but this time it didn't clang, and was very quiet. Isaiah lay still, and pretended to stay asleep, keeping his breathing deep and even. He sensed an evil presence float by him, and he shuddered inwardly. On the outside though, he kept himself under control and stayed 'asleep'.The presence stayed, hovering menacingly over his sleeping self. Perhaps it was waiting for him to awaken?

Isaiah decided it wasn't worth waiting to find out, so he slowly opened his eyes, yawned a very fake yawn, and tried to stretch. His bonds hindered him though, so he merely moved his elbows out. Straightening himself, he took a good look at his foe.

He was a fairly young man, probably around thirty, with ragged black hair and gloating brown eyes. He was tall, and was carrying a blue staff with intricate carvings that snaked up its length. He was wearing a royal purple cloak with a small hood that was cast aside.

"Welcome, rat, to my humble abode." he began with a sneer.

"And exactly who do you think you are?" Isaiah asked coldly, all 'sleep' gone from his eyes as he alertly studied his adversary.

His enemy glared at him through slits, and replied dryly;

"You, scoundrel, may call me Wise One. To others, however, I am known as Mighty Conqueror, Strong Fist, and Iron Heart. Simply put, I am Duke Inder, but do not call me by that name!"

"Yes, your worship." Isaiah replied sarcastically, mimicking a bow as best he could.

"Silence!" Inder bared his teeth angrily, "You will learn to fear me, weakling!"

Inside Isaiah just rolled his eyes, but on the outside he put on a frightened face. It had the predicted effect, as Inder looked at least slightly pleased. Disgusted, Isaiah asked,

"So what exactly am I here for, exalted one?"

Inder flashed his eyes menacingly at Isaiah, and with an angry wave of his hand replied, "To give me information. What else would I need you for, whelp!?"

"I was almost hoping you were holding me as a hostage, but I'll just pretend I didn't think that…" Isaiah muttered amusedly to himself.

Inder was clearly not amused, and he showed it by shoving Isaiah back onto his cot and stalking away, slamming the prison door behind him.

The echo lasted all the way down the corridor, and Isaiah began to understand just who he was up against, and at the terrible odds. He fell asleep with turmoil rushing madly through his dreams, ransacking and destroying as it went. First he saw Insede, then Inder, then a morphed version of both of them mutated together, then his homeland, his sister, his father; a comet hurling towards him and him alone.

Flying into a sitting position, he panted quickly, drawing in great gulps of oxygen to calm himself. It had been a dream, but a dream, nothing more. He looked around, moonlight shining in through a barred window high up above him, and saw nothing but his damp cell. A mixture of rushed emotions gathered inside of him, and he was overwhelmed. He buried his head, whispering calming words, soothing himself. Control and confidence washed over him as he whispered the familiar phrases. Even so, something was clearly wrong…

Of course, his bonds! Looking down at his hands he saw no sign of the thick rope that had bound him. Stretching his legs, he saw that his feet were also free. What in the entire universe was going on? Cold metal grasped him and clamped him to a metallic throne. He yelped as four iron rings, designed to hold his limbs, glued him to the arms and legs of the high backed chair, as a metal clamp was wrapped around his neck, securing him to the chair. He was then helplessly carried off by four sturdy men who appeared in his cell.

The short journey to their destination was nothing too important, and there was nothing Isaiah could do but stay still in the marble sitting instrument. His thoughts were whirling, and he hadn't the faintest idea of what was happening.

Bursting the door open, he was carried in and set down roughly by his escort, who then bowed to the ground and ambled off. He had had his eyes closed, but now he warily opened them, and came face to face with Inder, who was bending down next to him. The room was lit by bright moonlight, and there were many windows on Isaiah's left. There was little decoration, except for two suits of armor almost straight in front of him. Isaiah angrily ground his teeth, and tried to keep his face straight.

The Duke must have seen something however, as he said with obvious satisfaction: "Lo, you aren't the iron you might have been, but that is of no relevance now… Tell me, you live in an organization, do you not?"

"Alas, I do not remember." Isaiah growled sarcastically. Inders' face contorted in anger, and he jerked himself upright. He made a few wild gestures to a point in the room Isaiah couldn't see clearly.

It soon became the last thing on his mind, as a huge device with an extremely pointy end was pointed at his heart. The object reflected many things in the moonlight, but they weren't very clear; it looked like a massive grey blob. It was brought closer and closer to Isaiah's chest, and when it was not an inch away, it made a low humming noise and began to vibrate.

Isaiah was rather unable to think very well for the next few seconds, as yellowy bolts of lightning were launched directly at him, causing more pain to reverberate through his entire being than anything else had ever done to a living thing before. It was as though someone was on his insides, shredding everything with a dull knife that couldn't do its job properly. The pain seemed to never stop, and for several minutes after the bolts had hit him,

Isaiah sat, hunched over as well as he could, panting desperately. He looked up, and saw Inder flashing a smile of triumph. Isaiah hung his head, and gathered himself together, which took another several minutes.

When he had finally the strength to say, "You are worse than what words there are to use." Inder had begun to ask again, "You live in an organization, no?" this time with a cocky grin over his face.

Isaiah looked up and held his gaze. Green clashed with brown, but green faded quickly, and Isaiah dropped his eyes. He couldn't tell this man. Inder was clearly a maniac bent on destruction, and anything Isaiah said would convey weakness on his part, so he stayed silent.

That was only the beginning of what was to come. Every night, Inder found another way to torture Isaiah, and every night Isaiah found strength to resist. Of course, no one can outlast a machine that causes even the stoutest souls to deteriorate, but Isaiah miraculously lasted not a few weeks, but a few months. However, after several months, Isaiah fell into a coma. Inder found him useless, and threw him out to be devoured by the natural world.

******

A pair of young dragons went out hunting one evening, starving and ready for something real. They had just awoken from their winter hibernation, so they were all ready to go on the first hunt of spring.

"Ah, what a lovely evening to go hunting!" said the first, larger green dragon.

"Aye, indeed. Looks like we'll have some luck in these parts!" replied the other, stretching and yawning politely.

The other chuckled good naturedly, "Well then, we'd better be off now, hadn't we?"

"Yes, let's be off!" and so the two took off in search of food for the night.

They flew low over the forest, heading steadily in an easterly direction towards the hostile castle of their life-long enemy, Inder. Of course, they wouldn't go there directly, just sneak by and see if any stray cattle were still out.

A few miles off from the castle they landed and walked the rest ofthe way on foot. As they were drawing near to the castle, the younger one heard a low moan, and whirled around, tail whistling through the air.

"Ike!"

The older male turned his head around cautiously, and asked patiently,

"Yes?"

"Look at this! It's a life form…" the lizard nosed the mass gently "but hardly alive anymore. Must be Inder's devilry," he said, gazing angrily in the castle's direction.

Ike moved over curiously, and let his eyes rest on the limp figure on the ground in front of him. Unbelievingly, he moved closer, until he could smell the blood still pouring down from what could be taken as the forehead of the form.

"Icetor, you will not believe this." Ike thought, eyes widening in surprise. Aloud he said quickly, "Icetor, get some food, this guy needs serious help. Meet up at the cave, in about an hour or so. May the winds be with you." Ike carefully scooped up the mass of flesh and took flight, flying as quickly as he could to his den. Upon arriving there almost at dark, he gently placed the body on the ground, and then urgently flew to the nearest herbalist, not two catapult throws away.

Throwing the confused herbalist onto his back, he returned to his cave directly, arriving at nearly the same time as Icetor. They nodded in greeting, Icetor obediently placing the two bucks on the ground.

Ike lowered himself, and the herbalist got off and walked over to Isaiah, who was taking shaky, rasping breaths. After a little while, he urgently commanded that another human be brought so as to cook some meat. Ike sent Icetor on the mission, as he wanted to stay and keep watch on their patient.

Icetor returned far more quickly than expected and brought with him an able bodied man on his back. Without waiting for the reptile to sit, the man leapt off and walked over to a buck, which he set down to skinning almost immediately.

The herbalist worked fervently, straightening things out where things needed to be straightened, bandaging wounds, and calming his patient with soothing words when necessary. Ike sat nearby, observing everything with his green eyes. At intervals he would light a fire for the hunter Icetor had brought, or speak briefly with Icetor in their own tongue; so the night passed.

In the morning one could actually tell what Isaiah was, even though he was covered with white bandages and splinters. All morning he hadn't said a word, although he had eaten some of the hunters' deer. His eyes were far- off and hazy, as though he were in another world.

By noon he had spoken quietly with Ike in the dragons' language, but it was little, and Isaiah asked the questions, not Ike. Icetor was overflowing with questions, and he did not hold himself back. If Isaiah would not answer, he would ask Ike, and if Ike didn't know he would find another question to ask.

Isaiah's first few weeks out of Inders were quiet ones, and with the arm that wasn't broken he was often seen writing. By the fourth week however, he had answered most of Icetor's questions, and explained everything to the herbalist and hunter, warning them and imploring that they should move to a safer place. Bandages gradually came off, and soon Isaiah began to look like himself again. He had a scar along his arm, but no one paid attention to it, least of all him. After all that he had been through, tidbits like that ceased to matter or even hurt him.

After the fifth week passed, he began to act like himself again, but he was quieter, wiser, more cautious. Into the sixth week you might not have known he had been to Inders. By the seventh week, all there was to show for it was his scar and a few scratches. Two weeks later, and he was setting off for home.

"How did you survive that?" Icetor had asked one day.

"Pardon?" Isaiah looked up from skinning a large deer he had shot down with his custom bow and arrow.

"How did you make it through Inder?"

Isaiah looked off into the morning light, eyes fading into nothingness.

A few seconds later life returned to his green eyes, and he replied,

"A miracle."

"A miracle? You believe in miracles?"

"I had to. It was the only way I could give myself a reason to fight on. It worked too, wouldn't you say?" Isaiah said, green eyes calmly and quietly staring at the dragon.

Icetor looked away, not quite understanding. Settling down, he asked, "But why did it work? It could be just coincidence that you survived."

"Aye, but what an empty world to have to live in if you don't believe you have a purpose. What an empty world if there is no such thing as a miracle. It's all coincidence, fate, a mistake. There's no certainty. That's just an empty life to live." Isaiah shook his head, and said quietly, "If there are miracles, there is hope. There is sureness. There is peace of mind. Without it, life is just a bit over-chaotic, and most certainly pointless. That is not the world we live in."

END