Song of the Mountain by Michelle Isenhoff

Author:Michelle Isenhoff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Candle Star Press

Chapter 13

Song heard the murmur of voices before he entered the clearing. The sounds were indistinct and carried no meaning, so Song continued toward home without hesitation, as he had a thousand times before.

He drew close enough to see Grandfather sitting beside the cook fire in earnest conversation with three old men. The visitors had come, just as Grandfather said they would, though how such ancient fellows could arrive so quickly he could not guess.

Song stopped, his eyes focusing on the huddled figure of his grandfather. He was wearing the blue silk robe, the one from the locked chest. In fact, all the men wore identical robes, each in a different shade, and they were so absorbed in conversation they did not notice the boy standing nearby. As Song watched, he overheard snatches of their talk.

“…must be considered,” Grandfather was saying. “The dragon has been driven off for now, but it has seen the boy, and it knows what he carried. He will draw his own conclusions.”

After a dramatic pause, the man in dark purple asked, “But we must be certain.”

Grandfather nodded. “I have been slow to act after my last mistake cost us so dearly.”

The voices dropped so Song could catch only snatches of what was said.

“…the evidence is compelling…”

“…always seeking the One…”

“…must take precautions…”

Song felt a vague uneasiness. He cleared his throat and strode noisily toward the fire as if he had only just arrived from the manor.

Grandfather stood up. “Gentlemen, this is my grandson, Song Wei.”

Song bowed low before the old men. “Long life to you, sirs.”

The three men exchanged glances and chuckled, as if they shared some secret amusement.

“And good fortune to you, son,” answered one of them with a nod. He was dressed in dark green and had a shriveled walnut of a face. “Your grandfather tells us you have won the favor of the lord.”

Song shifted from one foot to another and felt his face grow warm. He was glad the emblem he wore was hidden beneath his tunic.

“Song,” Grandfather broke in, “these are my dear companions. They have come to help.”

Help what? Fight the dragon? Song looked doubtfully from one lined face to another. “Did any of you travel with my grandfather in the old days?” he asked.

All three men nodded soberly. “Our feet have often trodden the same path,” answered the man wearing purple so dark it nearly looked black.

“Around this fire,” Grandfather began, “there is a great store of knowledge. From these men I seek wisdom, and wisdom begs prudence. Before all else, we must consider the ancient words. Much has been spoken of, and much has come to pass. In the words of the old ones we find guidance.”

The slight hope Song had allowed himself splintered. Of course Grandfather would turn to his old tales, even when it was obvious they needed a dragon slayer.

Grandfather leaned back. “My child, it is time to tell you the Tale of the Token.

“In the days after Ju-Long escaped to haunt the deep places

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