Jarlath's Fate?

"Jarlath was... is my brother," he said at last, "a year or so younger than me. He was always very brave and very clever, maybe a little too clever for his own good, and always asking questions. When he was younger he learned to read without our father's knowledge by doing little favors for our scribe, who taught him in return. He was always spending time in the library searching through our ancient books, or hearing stories from anyone who'd tell them, whether visiting lords or the palace servants. He loved stories of marvels and magic, and above all of the Elder Race and their ruins. He had heard all the tales of them--that they were beautiufl and wise, though proud, and had wisdom that there rest of the world had forgotten, or that they were eldritch things whose presence blighted the human soul. He told me that the thing he desired above all others was to seek their ruins and find which was the truth.

"When he was ten years old we found he had the Gift. He almost burned down a tapestry by accidentally casting a spell. Our father... was not pleased by this. He distrusted magic after his own past struggles with the powers of darkness. He spoke no more to Jarlath once he left to learn from the White Hand at the tower of Ilxior. He proved to be a very talented mage, who could weave spells effortlessly, enough that it worried his teachers. They feared that his Gift might outstrip his wisdom. Perhaps they were right.

"Once he graduated he followed in the footsteps of our ancestors and became a Quester. He always wanted to be a hero, and he sought to prove our father wrong. He journeyed through our kingdom and beyond and fought great and terrible monsters. But when he wanted to seek out the ruins of the Elder Race that lie in the Carpathians, the White Hand would not let him. Many mages had traveled there seeking their secrets, and none had ever returned..."

"Except me," interrupted the Dragon. "I have sought to enter their ruins and gain the magical knowledge they had that is lost to us. But I could not penetrate their outer walls, though I have tried for centuries. It is in this that I need your help. Since the two of your survived these caves, perhaps together the three of us could survive the Ruins."

"Then that's your plan," said Frederigo. "So where is my brother?"

"Finish your story first," said the Dragon.

"There's little more to tell," said Fred. "The White Hand warned him that If he defied the White Hand's will and set out, they would declare him a rogue mage, and then his life would be forfeit. He set out and managed to flee Allaria. And no one has seen or heard of him for the better part of two years."

"Not in your kingdom, perhaps," said the Dragon. "But he did find someone who would help him--Simon Teranov, a scholar of the university of Klow, who made it his life's work to study the legends of the Elder Race. He is also in my care, by the way. I have no reason to kill him, but if you refuse me I might change my mind. He guided Jarlath to the outer gate of the Ruins but did not dare venture in. All that either he or I know of Jarlath is that he has found what he sought. So what do you say?"

Fred stood for a moment, brooding in silence. He knew that if he aided the Dragon in searching for the secrets of these ruins, he would be making it almost invincible. He could not betray his quest or those whose lives depended on him. But could he bring himself to abandon his own brother? Of course, if the Dragon conquered his homeland both their lives would be forfeit no matter what. Yet if he refused the Dragon, it would have no reason to keep him alive. He--and Simon--would die in vain. And there would be nothing to stop the Dragon from slaying all his fellow knights and taking his kingdom as it had threatened. Either way, it seemed, all was lost.

And yet. The Dragon was vastly powerful, so much so that his sword could not even wound it, and so cunning that it had trapped Astra despite all her precautions. And yet it had tried and failed for centuries to enter the Ruins. If he were there, they would both be at an equal disadvantage and perhaps, with Jarlath's aid, would have a chance to gain the upper hand. If there was anything in the world that could slay this Dragon, it would be there. And perhaps there were still some remaining of the Elder Race there who could help them as well. This was assuming, of course, that whatever lay in the ruins was not far worse than the Dragon itself. There was only one way of knowing.

"Well?" said the Dragon. "I'm getting impatient."

"Aye," said Fred. "I will help you."

"Good. Now how about you, Astra?"

"You never answered my question," she said. "Why should I help you?"

1. "I believe the Elder Race have knowledge we could use to cure for the plague that is ravaging Aqualaria."
2. "I believe the Elder Race have knowledge we could use to repair the Stone of Destiny."
3. "I forgot to mention that Jarlath had another ally, a warrior who accompanied him into the Ruins. Her name is Elena. I believe you knew her once."

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