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Untitled Document
No one really knows why I'm in these dungeons.
I'm not surprised. After all, I'm not much of
a talker, now am I? Of course, my silence is not something that I uphold on
my own free will.
My name is Rowan, Rowan Hogustus. I was once
Lord Darigan's head general, and his most trusted friend. The key word is "was".
He has openly declared that he no longer knows me. To mention my true name is
forbidden. I have been turned into a Taboo. Darigan cast me down into the deepest
of dungeons, and never visits. The only person who ventures down here is Master
Vex, and he only visits so that he can force me to play his tiresome game. Darigan
also told me, just before casting me into near exile, that I am not allowed
to speak. If I do, then my food rations will be cut.
Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision
so long ago, during the great Meridell war. Sometimes, at night, when I look
out the little window in my cell over the landscape and the glittering stars,
I wonder what life would've been like if I had just followed Darigan's orders.
But then I remember the feeling, that terrible feeling of evil, and I know that
I made the right decision.
I suppose I should backtrack a little. I'll start
with that fateful night in Darigan's throne room, where I received that terrible
news that was to wreak havoc on my life.
I had been lounging in my chambers, playing with
my Drackonak, Maverick, when Galgarrath came barging right on in and told me
that Lord Darigan requested an audience with me. I had a pretty bad feeling
about the meeting right there and then; after all, he never requested my presence
just to make small talk. I also had a feeling that it had to do with the upcoming
war. Darigan had sent out a few scouts to the castle earlier, and I was certain
that he only wanted me with him so that he could declare war.
I strode into the chamber, throwing open the
large, mahogany doors. I squared my shoulders and folded back my scrawny wings,
kneeling low on the gritty stone floor. Darigan's bass voice filled the chamber.
"Rise, Rowan," he said, beckoning me closer with
his grimy claws.
I got to my feet and faced him, trying hard not
to blink as his blood red eyes bored into mine. He heaved a great sigh and leaned
back into his chair.
"Rowan, we have declared war on Meridell. Tomorrow
we shall charge, but you will be leaving earlier."
I was beginning to feel slightly confused. Surely
he did not mean that I was to attack Meridell on my own! I cleared my throat
nervously, scratching a pattern in the floor with my hooves. "On my own?" I
asked, wincing as Darigan's voice broke across my back like a whip.
"No. Don't be a fool." He arose and circled around
me, an icy breeze ruffling his maroon fur ruff. A shuddered as I felt a blast
of rank breath from his jaws as he paced around me. I stood completely still,
as though rooted to the floor.
"You will be leaving for Meridell castle earlier,
because I have a special mission for you, Rowan."
"What?" I asked, unable to conceal the impatience
in my voice. Darigan laughed, turning to Galgarrath, who instantly began to
laugh as well, a forced, hoarse chuckle.
"You have heard of Jeran, have you not?" he asked,
his voice deadly calm. I nodded. Of course I heard of Jeran, the legendary Lupe
Knight. Darigan continued.
"Rowan, Jeran is all that stands in the way of
Meridell's downfall. If we eliminate Jeran, then Meridell will crumble like
an autumn leaf." He whirled back to me, eyes blazing fiercely.
"Do you remember what I always told you?"
I sighed. Yes, I did remember. I didn't want
to, but I did. "Yes my Lord. You always told me that to..." I shuddered. "--Kill
the Magtile, you need to cut off the head." I practically gagged. I had always
hated that saying. Darigan laughed, giving me a hefty pat on the back that nearly
bowled me right over.
"Good job, Rowan!" He reached deep within his
robes and pulled out a crystal dagger, its hilt glittering with tiny rubies
set deep within the silver. I accepted it and pocketed it. It was beautiful,
of course, but not of much use on the battlefield in paw to paw combat. A Darigan
Sword probably would've been more reliable than this little trinket. I glanced
back up at him, hoping that he could read the puzzlement in my eyes and spare
me the awkwardness of having to question the purpose of his gift. Fortunately,
he did.
"Do you know why I have given you this dagger?"
he asked quietly.
I shook my head. He smiled, displaying rows of
yellowed fangs.
"Because I want you to destroy Jeran. Go at the
crack of dawn tomorrow, and do it quickly."
"But why me?" I asked, unable to conceal the
panic in my voice.
"Because you are my most trusted friend, and
I would rather have you do it then a common soldier."
He then sat back down in his throne, and closed
his eyes, as though that settled the matter. I was then led away by Haskol,
who delivered me back to my chambers. He advised me to prepare for the task
ahead, focusing my energy and dressing in black. I merely nodded, still too
dazed to really care about his advice. I sat wearily on my bed, absent-mindedly
stroking Maverick, who had clambered into my lap. I allowed my mind to wander,
trying hard not to dwell to heavily on my upcoming mission. I was about to drift
off to sleep when my chamber doors burst open, the loud, crashing sound snapping
me instantly out of my reverie. It was Galgarrath again. I was confused. Surely
Darigan didn't want to see me again so soon after the first visit? I was about
to ask him when he strode in and snatched Maverick from my hooves.
"Hey!" I shouted angrily. "What are you doing?"
Galgarrath bowed curtly to me before answering.
"I am sorry, Master Rowan, but Lord Darigan has
requested that all Drackonaks in the citadel be collected and assembled in the
main hall."
"Why?" I demanded, practically shaking from anger.
"Because we will be attacking Meridell Castle
soon, and the Drackonaks are the first wave. We will be going as soon as you
finish off Jeran." He raised an eyebrow at me. "Shouldn't you be on your way?"
I ignored him. "But Maverick could get hurt!
Don't take him, surely my personal Petpet should be spared?"
Galgarrath shook his head, his braided whiskers
swaying.
"No, Lord Darigan clearly stated every Drackonak.
Even his Drackonak, Mordecai, is being drafted. I am sorry, Master Rowan, but
it is Lord Darigan's orders."
He offered no more explanations. He merely turned
on his heel and strode out the door, his tail shutting it behind him with a
slam. I crumpled to floor, down on my knees. Maverick had been my sole comfort,
and now he was being forced onto the battlefield, and forced to fight. I felt
a tear running down my face to land with a splash on the stone floor. My sensitive
ears caught the sound of a Vullard cawing ceaselessly. Dawn had arrived.
I wasted no time. I was still upset, but it would
only make things worse if I failed on my mission. Besides, I thought hopefully,
maybe if I did a good job, Maverick might be excused from the war.
I grabbed my old, dark green travelling cloak
from the hanger on the doorway and threw it around my shoulders, folding my
wings against my back. I pulled out the dagger, a ray of incoming sunlight from
my window making the hilt shine and the rubies sparkle. I shoved it back inside
my cloak and jumped out the window, quickly flaring my wings and gliding gracefully
along the cool breezes. As I breasted the hill of Meri Acres Farm, I saw the
castle, rising majestically above Meridell, the white marble glistening in the
dull sunlight. It was still fairly dark, so I was well concealed. Fortunately,
I, like all other Draconian Pets, possessed night vision, so I was able to pinpoint
exactly where the best entrance would be. I spotted a large window, about halfway
up the castle, that I could easily glide into.
I flapped my wings a bit harder and shot up along
the castle walls. When I reached the window, I hovered outside for a few minutes
before zooming in, landing softly on the carpet. My first impression of the
room was that it was pretty nice. However, after the first few streaks of sunlight
came in through the window and illuminated all the many possessions and luxuries
that the room contained, I thought that it was magnificent!
Huge, comfortable looking chairs carved from
mahogany and polished so that they shone. Beautiful, painted portraits of all
the previous Meridell kings and queens lined the mantelpiece above the fireplace.
A fireplace! In a room! The Darigan Citadel only had one fireplace, and it was
rarely lit. As my eyes roved around the room, taking in all the splendor and
luxury, my gaze fell upon a dull blue form dozing in one of the armchairs, clad
in shining bronze armor. I could hardly conceal my delight.
It was Jeran. I had picked, out of the thousand
or so windows in the castle, the one that led me straight into my victim's chambers!
Grinning like a mad Whinny, I drew out the dagger and stalked towards the sleeping
blue form, ready to complete my task and please my lord. I stood over him, the
dagger clenched tightly between the knuckles of my hooves. I took a deep breath,
ready to finish the job, but I couldn't.
I couldn't do it. The dagger fell from my trembling
claws and hit the floor with a loud clang. A tear dribbled down my cheek. I
couldn't believe what I had almost done. I had almost slain someone defenseless
and innocent, just to gain the upper claw in a war. I turned and fled, sobbing,
out the window.
I returned to the Citadel in a state of terror.
What would Darigan do to me? Obviously he would be mad, but how mad? When I
got within ten meters or so of the Citadel, I saw him, framed in the window,
waving at me. I angled my wings and soared right in through the window, landing
on the hard stone floors. I kneeled to him, and then arose, looking at him square
in his eyes.
"Well?" he asked impatiently. "Did you do it?"
I took a deep breath, summoning all of my courage.
"No," I said, somewhat shakily. "I didn't."
"Why?" he asked, his voice calm and soft.
"Because" -I replied, choking slightly on my
words. "I didn't want to. I couldn't do it. It wasn't right."
I thought that I had seen the extent of my Darigan's
anger when one of the weaponry polishers broke his best sword. I was wrong.
His massive wings flared and his eyes blazed with fury, his tail slamming against
the floor with such force that the entire room shook.
"YOU THOUGHT IT WASN'T RIGHT? Do you have any
idea what you've done? You have condemned us to failure!" he roared.
"It was dishonest!" I cried, jumping to the
side to avoid Darigan's swinging tail.
"Dishonest? You want to hear about dishonesty?
THEY STOLE OUR ORB!"
"That doesn't mean that we should steal it back!
Two wrongs don't make a right, remember?"
"Don't lecture me on your playpen code of conduct!
I suppose you think that they'll give our orb back if we ask them nicely?"
"Why can't we both just live in peace? If we
combined our efforts, then we could create a kingdom more powerful then anything
that we would've been on our own!" I was being stupid now, and was only making
a bad situation worse.
ENOUGH! I'm sick and tired of your disobedient,
namby-pamby ways! To the dungeons with you!" His wings shook with fury. "And
you shall never speak again! I condemn you into a void of silence!"
Two large, Skeith guards came in and began dragging
me off towards the dungeons. I struggled wildly against their claws and cried
out to him, "But I'm your friend!"
He whirled back around to face me, his robes
billowing. "I can think of many things that I could call you, but 'friend' is
not one of them!"
Those were the last words that he said to me,
and they ring in my ears whenever I'm alone at night, and I remember my past.
As I sit in my cell, with the pale moonlight shining in from the barred window,
I remember the way things used to be. I remember Maverick, and I hope that he
made it through the war, and I remember Darigan, my only friend. I was loyal
to him, I did nearly everything that he requested of me, and now, he has cast
me into his dampest, moldiest cell, with only a cup of water and bowl of gruel
for food. I heard that he won the war. It makes no difference to me, though.
Maybe if Meridell had won the war then I would've been freed along with the
other prisoners. The other prisoners, the ones who try to communicate with me.
They ask me a question, and I merely stamp my hoof on the floor. They ask me
what my name is, and all the get is the loud, echoing "Clop!" sound. So that
is what they call me. Clop, the silent one. One stamp means yes, and two means
no.
To whittle away the long hours in my dungeon,
I write down my story on a small scrap of parchment that one of the guards dropped
on his evening rounds. I am not allowed to speak, but I am allowed to write.
I use a piece of dark charcoal for a pen. Now, I have finished the rendition
of my story, and I shall toss it out my window, with the vain hope that someone
will find it and tell my story to all of Neopia.
I stand at the window, the paper clutched in
my hooves, as I wait for a breeze. When one comes, I gently throw the paper
out the window and watch as it is carried away by the evening winds. As I watch
my past fly away from this wretched Citadel, I feel as though a little part
of me has been freed, for my story is no longer chained within the chasms of
these dungeons, but free, for all of Neopia to know.
The End
Author's Note: I would like to thank evil__sakura for giving me the nifty
idea of a reluctant Darigan solider... Hope you like what did with it! =)
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