Fantastical Realm of Fantasme by Sharon Goodhand
Chronicler and Teller of Tales The Fantastical Realm of Fantasme lies far beyond the edges of the Human World; beyond the echoes of the everyday, through the mists of time itself. It is a wondrous land of ancient myths and living creatures that most believe exist only within the realm of imagination…. But as Chronicler and Teller of Tales, both fantastical and true I’m here to tell you that no imagination compares to the sights I have seen; Sibylline curtains of diaphanous mist shroud valleys lost to mankind… although once… long long ago in a time not imagined, there did exist a portal between the two world; Sadly, I was the last to pass through the portal before it was sealed forever by the Great Wizard Mentorian sealed by protection spells and all manner of Guardian Gates.
I have walked the Human World for 200 long years and my longevity is itself a spell placed on me by the beautiful Gossamer Grace, Queen of the Fay for I was entrusted with the role of Storyteller and the only hope that the two words may exist side by side once again lies in my success in convincing the Human World that Fantasme is real… … and while mankind continues to doubt its existence the majikal realm will remain hidden and lost to all. * Let me begin by retelling how I first came to find The Fantastical Realm of Fantasme some may think it was quite by accident… if one believes in such things as accidents… but I learnt that all things happen for a reason… and are mere stepping stones to ones destined destination; And mine was Fantasme, oh yes indeed it was. I spent idyllic childhood years living in a tumbledown cottage at the end of Cherryblossom Lane; my grans cottage it was, nestled snug in the foothills of Titania Mountain… ahhh… those heavenly ethereal slopes I know so well… vaporous mist drifted in delicate streamers, clinging to the gentle swells of Titania Mountain; changing seasons saw me scampering and climbing and investigating that much loved mountain… but in all those years I never made it to the top. I grew up and moved away, as children do and my visits home never gave me time to do more than hold grans aging hand and talk of old times; Many were the times I tried to convince my gran to move to the city and live with me but she would not budge from the mist shrouded foothills of Titania Mountain… … and I could never blame her, for in truth, it was where I longed to be as well. My last visit to the cottage was to lay my dear gran in the family plot alongside both my grandpa and my ma.
That night as I sat alone with only the owls and echoes of the past for company I looked up at the mountain I knew so well, when I was gripped by a strange fierce compulsion to climb to the very top of Titania Mountain … a feat, I had been told, never before achieved but something deep within me urged me to pack a rucksack and go up the mountain… a journey to the mysterious cloud- cloaked pinnacle would surely take several days … * How idyllic it was to retrace childhood steps… to linger along well-known paths and quench my thirst by crystal cascades I could never forget; but by the fourth day I entered unfamiliar territory that looked and felt like none I had ever seen before… the narrow path I followed became rough; overgrown with unusual plants and over-shadowed by age-old trees with secret names. Dense luminescent moss hugged rotten log and scattered rock dangling vines as thick as my arm hung like hangman's rope from trees I did not recognise. Timid scurrying and scampering whispered in the verdant vegetation but I never laid eyes on a single creature, ‘cept for an old grey owl who seemed intent on following my upward progress; The fourth day found me footsore and fatigued, resting by a high waterfall … I fell fast asleep in the dappled shade, dreaming of flowers that turned into faerie folk and a gnarled old tree that sang in my gran’s voice… Listen… listen to the wisdom of Forest… you must head their words… listen… listen … listen to the wise ones… the trees… you must listennn…. I woke with a start, shivering and cold, thought beads of sweat glistened on my brow; the shadows seemed thicker now… little sunlight shone through and…. were the trees gathered closer ‘round me, then when I fell asleep? My bewilderment deepened further when I noticed, or thought I noticed one tree leaning in close to me… a tree that appeared to have eyes! So….. You are the new Chronicler and Teller of Tales…. the tree appeared to ponder the thought, while scrutinising me closely Not what I was expecting… but Her Majesty is never wrong… to have even made it this far is proof enough; You speak, I whispered, as if fearful my human voice would break this spell or truly arouse me from this dream… for surely I still slept surely I still dreamed? This is no dream little storyteller, the tree chuckled, his leaves quivering and rattling this is your destiny… you have a role to fill. Her Majesty awaits you.
Her Majesty? I queried, I don’t understand.
You will little storyteller, you will. * Ah… I weary now…the moon wans into first blush of dawn… I must rest, but mayhap I will continue my tale another night. *
New Storyteller of Fantasme So… Tales are told by word of mouth among the common folk, and retold with embellishments and told again, Travelers give their interpretation at inns and taverns, bards recite in great halls and grand-sires spin tales in the comforting warmth of the family hearth, Some are legends so old that little truth remains, others are chronicles of events from yesteryear, some of happenings experienced in more recent times The stories I tell you now are all in truth for I have witnessed these first hand and live to be the storyteller, for many who were both friend and foe have not been so favored; That I live to recount these legends when others were not so lucky is not of my doing
and due to no lack of courage on my part, but rather it is my curse to outlive all those I loved and cherished and respected… but that is a tale in itself and mayhap I will tell that tale too before I am done. I am the Storyteller of Fantasme and I know, although my eyes have now dimmed and do not see as clearly as they once did, I know you doubt my words already Be that as it may, I speak the truth because that is all I am permitted to speak and words of falsehood may not pass these lips I know that you have been taught that Fantasme is but a myth, a fabrication of fables, but this is not so for I am the one who climbed the mystic mountain higher than it had every been climbed… I am the one who found the secret passage That leads to Fantasme; If you do not have a head for figures or for the reckoning of years let me tell you that makes me all of four hundred years and I am weary to my soul… so weary that I must recount all I know for I feel, not fear, that my curse is about to be broken and finally may I know the oblivion of the long sleep. But before I pass into that blessed void there is much I need to tell for whether you believe it or not many of you are descendants of the Ancient Ones whose majik is pure and strong and you should know the truth of your lineage; I have been known by many names and titles in my long lifetime, I have been called Innocent, Healer and Seer, Witch, Enchantress and Manslayer; I have been called Warrior and Saviour, but you may know me as The Storyteller and if you listen well and fill my bowl from time to time I will tell you tales of truth beyond your wildest dreams;
So gather ‘round good people sit yourselves by the glowing hearth fill my mug, keep the fire lit and I shall tell of Fantasme - land of our birth… Nay none of that! I will not hear it, on deaf ears your nay-saying falls keep your doubts until stories close, a foolish man speaks before time…. in silence sit until the end… and then my friends, and then you can have your say with me, for now, silence as you fill my wine…
indulge a woman as old as I, whose story must be told I promise to entertain you, on a night this dark and cold… *
SIRIDEÁN SÚILEABHÁN - Dark Eyed Searcher
Far to the southeast of central Fantasme there lie the luscious flatlands Of the Daris River the villagers of DÁIRÍNE Dell toil passionately along the banks of the river… growing plump fruit & grains but it happened one year that the Daris dried up… crops failed… hunger took control; word went out that she with the crystal ball will come with all the answers… she, sorceress of southern climes the Dark Eyed Searcher and so the seers plot by season & stars the time of her arrival… the people wait and tend their roles
and whisper prayers… soon… please come soon Sirideán Súileabhán sorceress of our salvation… it is said, that Sirideán reads signs like no other that her travels in realms unreachable have harvested much wisdom… Sirideán is the sorceress all sibyls go to for guidance the sultry Dark Eyed Searcher that all wizards & magi secretly lust after on moonlit nights … the one mortal woman all gods yearn to own… but it is also said the dark-eyed Sirideán walks heaven and earth & cosmos alone… a solitary candle in the darkest of nights; her obsidian eyes can turn a man to liquid, be it smiling glance or death-stare and it is told, ‘round tavern tables and family hearths how she is Child with no Birth… but fashioned by Mother Nature’s hand as Champion to both creature and land and all who live with honest heart…. ** the villagers of DÁIRÍNE Dell toiled dawn to dusk so their hamlet could live up to its fertile name … but rains were poor and for the first time in known history the Daris River had dried to a trickle of a tear… the villagers feared future days… but if truth be told they feared the coming of the Dark Eyed Searcher more… … and a runner had arrived, breathless and dusty and almost too weary for words she comes… he panted… collapsing at the elders feet; she comes… she comes… she comes the whisper raced ‘round Dáiríne Dell faster than an Autumn wind she comes… people gathered in the village to speculate and share their prophecies for doom & gloom or fruitful resolutions … those weary souls still toiling in soil that blew with the breeze into clouds of fine ground dust paused in their labours to look up, wipe dirty brows and breathe a sigh… … she comes… she with the crystal ball and all the answers… …alas 3 full moons passing did it take before the revered and often feared Sirideán Súileabhán arrived… silent and without fanfare… she simple appeared at the High Elders elbow… the wizened old mage fair jumped out of his skin which spread a grin to every initiate in the hall… You called… her crystal whisper carried to every ear in the grange what seems to be the problem, you called my name… it’s a matter of water, the old mage explained 14 full moons and still no rain… the crops have died
our livestock too… children weep, the old can’t sleep- even the forest creatures grow weak… your mountain-fed river was designed to never run dry have you dammed it? Damaged it? Tell me why the endless river has run dry? Sirideán was not impressed the freedom of this river must be addressed! All looked to the eldest elder, all paled beneath Sirideán’s stare nothing have we done, but toil in the sun an honest day’s work for any good man day in and out and into the night… we toil for nought water is our blight… infants cry all through the night aged souls pass before morning light… help us revered Lady…. help our plight! Sirideán’s cold stare made everyone aware just how little for mankind she cared – - the Earth’s well-being was her domain and she knew this mountain river Sempiternal by name should flow freely despite no rain; she swept the congregation with keen penetrating eyes… sharp as diamond, clear as dew leave the matter with me, she scolded, I shall be back when the moon is new!
The village of Dáiríne Dell to pondering silence fell but thoughts turned dark that day and souls turned grey as man accused man and sister charged sister with deeds that caused their downfall… fingers pointed and words scathed … enemies were made that day; The Dark Eyed Searcher returned when the moon was new a sliver of silver in the darkest night… the villagers gathered in number by lantern and candle light…. would there be an answer to their plight or would this be the longest night any would see… Sirideán’s dark eye flashed like onyx… her pupils as sharp as shards that bore into each man’s soul, and chilled each woman’s heart…
The river is blocked and dammed, Sirideán roared… Mother Earth’s Law you have ignored! You deny precious water to the village yonder… why is this I wonder?
b .. but … but, Revered One , the elder sputtered … we did not dam the River the River is our sustenance…. our very life giver!
Nooo…not by You, Sirideán cried… by those in the village you have denied! … they now divert and channel the water to their dam…. they said you would not share the earth- treasure of water given at birth … and so took what they needed… the villagers looked to each other… excuse fell from their lips legend has it the Sempiternal River is ours! no river is yours! Sirideán exploded… this river belongs to Mother Earth bequeathed to you to use from birth… did your mother’s not teach you to have a care did they not teach you how to share!! … heads hung low in the village that night… and hearts tolled a heavy bell sleep did not sooth a single soul in the village of Dáiríne Dell… Revered One, the elder finally whispered as dawn broke through the trees we understand our error… help us please! Our children grow weak… the aged no longer speak silence is our only song… please help us to make amends and right what we have wronged! Sirideán gazed intently, into every face and mind… she saw remorse and fear in hearts clear and a hunger in each child’s eye… Sirideán sighed… very well, she said at long last… put the past in the past and make amends this very day… go all, to your neighboring village… with them you will toil until the dam is gone and from this day forward, forever and on, the river is of free spirit… and share it you must never taking more than you need in Mother Earth put your trust this mountain-fed river was designed to never wither but nourish all who come in need for our Mother Earth, in all her wisdom, just can’t comprehend human greed.
Athene-Belle-Adina, A Fallen Priestess…
The Fantastical Realm of Fantasme lies far beyond the edges of the Human World; beyond the echoes of the everyday, through the mists of time itself… … It is a wondrous island of ancient myths and living creatures that most believe exist only within the realm of imagination…. … but if one truly believes in such majik things You can almost see the island of Fantasme floating in the distance… *
Where moonbeams gathered to greet the coming day in soft and tender iridescent shades there lies a fountain of mystic import and in the crystal lake which encompasses the fountain, a solitary swan swims with such calm, one would doubt her sad and forlorn beginnings… Unlike most wild swans, this one once had a name- a name so renowned in all the lands it trembled on the tongue Of king and peasant alike … a name so potent it conjured both love and fear, longing and loathing For this lone swan, now guardian of the fountain Was none other than the priestess turned sorceress Athene-Belle-Adina; Hunted by those who yearned to taste her flesh Sort after by those who schemed to steal her power Athene-Belle-Adina had spent 100 years forever on the run Hiding, fleeing, living in secret… Denying herself love and soul-connection Concealing herself in the shadows For Shadows have no memory, you see… *
This life wearied Athene-Belle-Adina, it tore at her soul Tears left indelible bruises on her once fair cheeks And turned her luscious hair snow white… … one day, exhausted and sick of heart The sorceress came upon a peacock dancing in a meadow of wildflowers bone-weary & weeping Athene-Belle-Adina collapsed on a bed of primrose and wept uncontrollably she wept for her lost life and love unfound she wept for the weariness in her soul… oh, she cried, to find a place of solace & safety a place to Shelter my aches, I need the sun I need the rain… I need to float free from this wretched body… Fair maid, the peacock sat by her side… fair maid, if you truly desire To float free from your human form
I know the only way to do so… Athene-Belle-Adina turned her tear face to look the peacock Directly in the eyes… … if you know, please, she begged, tell meLook there, a rainbowed unicorn, said the peacock with a snowy fan of tail feathers Wipe your tears on this silk scarf and present it to the unicorn… Athene hastened to her feet, soaking the soft silk scarf with her tears… … and approached the rainbowed unicorn with far more boldness Then she had felt in many a long year; The unicorn looked at Athene-Belle-Adina with soft sad eyes His rainbow colors shimmered and rippled with iridescent beauty… … Athene offered the tear-damp scarf, begging with such heart-breaking pain That the unicorn could not refuse… … and so the haunted & hunted Athene was turned into a swan And to this day, in a lake on the isle of Fantasme A snow white swan glides in solitary tranquility. *
The Invisible Queen Twas the night to honor those passed; all citizens of Nesla wore masks to hide their sorrow just as the old Queen had done in times gone but not forgotten… the old Queen, however, wore her mask day and night for seven years, in mourning over the tragedy of her lost sons; And then she died, leaving me alone to rule the land. Her only daughter; But I have not been allowed to rule… ordered instead to live my days within my private chambers. My name is Cahira, am known as the Invisible Queen, for none look to me for guidance… none salute me or honor me;
Every new beginning was once an ending and the beginning of my reign was born in bloodshed and sorrow and I, a mere girl then, had not yet wetted my sword nor gained the respect of council or people… and so it was the council who ruled the land; they made the decisions and cared for the people; I was told to stay to my chambers and the private garden. Nay not told… commanded… locked in… banished. And so it was on this night of masks that I alone wore no mask; none came to my chambers nor walked in my garden but Tippali, my loyal maid. So none would see my unmasked face; indeed, none but Tippa and the old gardener Weathersky, had seen my face in 5 long years. Tippa and Weathersky were my portals to the outside world; they told me stories, keeping me informed of current happenings and trends… they brought me books on any topic I wished and if truth be known I believe I would have hung myself before now, if not for their friendship and dedication. Remember, my queen, Weathersky was fond of saying “Destiny only falters when WE close ourselves in” Through them I learned castle policies and etiquette; I learned who our enemies are and who to trust They taught me things the council did not even know … rumblings in taverns and whispers ‘round hearths; they even instructed me in sword techniques and subterfuge … for she believed the day would come when only I could save my people and my castle and she believed that day was close at hand. My chambers and garden are located in an isolated corner of the castle… a stone wall separated the garden from the cliff which overlooked the Bay of Ealdwine. On clear days I could faintly hear the activity in the port blow and on still summer nights the waves whispered to me of days to come. If I stood on Weathersky’s ladder I could just see a corner of the orchard where grew the pomegranate tree’s from which the famous Nesla Pomegranate Wine was made and of late a mysterious male figure… cloaked and hatted, who had taken to standing there, overlooking the Bay of Ealdwine. Both Tippa and old Weathersky denied any knowledge of the stranger, but I believed they were keeping something from me. And so it was on this Night of Masks both Tippa and Weathersky called on me… Tippa was agitated and the old gardener seemed somewhat different… less frail with an air of power about him. They took me into the garden, sitting me down under the old yew tree. Their faces bore sober expressions and both carried travelling packs. Weathersky took my hand in his, looking deeply into my very soul… I felt a stir of nervous excitement. My Queen, he said, the time has come for truth to out… time for you to come into your true power; You must listen to me, and take in all I say. firstly, allow me to introduce myself…. But Weathersky… I have known you since childhood… I ventured. No child, you have known me since birth… I have watched over you since you first took breath. I knew you were destined for great things. Now stop interrupting me. I am, (and here the old man flourished his hand, revealing a Weathersky entirely unlike my gardener)… I am, Weathersky, Wizard Of Seasons. With a wave of gnarled fingers Weathersky plucked a white rose bud from a distant bush.
The rose floated across the moonlit garden, changing color as it gentle twirled into my waiting hand. I gasped in amazement… but Weathersky, why did you keep this from me? I had to wait until the time came… and that time is now. Your mother, the dear heartbroken Queen, banished all dragons from the kingdom after your brother’s unfortunate accident. The dragons were both enraged and heartbroken, for they too love your brothers dearly. Over the years all of Nesla’s dragon have been killed or poached by outsiders. Only one remains, as yet unborn, but she is finally due to hatch on the next full moon. And you must leave now, in the dark of the no-moon, if you are to be there for her hatching. But why must I be there for her hatching? I asked, confused, but excited also. Her name is Bellatrixa, and she is yours, Weathersky said… but you must travel swiftly for others are already on the hunt for her. Mine! I heard myself exclaim, watching as the wizard Weathersky unwrapped the traveling pack he carried in earlier, to reveal a shield bearing an emblem of a dragon holding a crystal rose a beautiful short sword and the purest clear crystal I had ever seen. Yes yours, as destiny decreed… for you are the new Dragon Warrior. Oh no. No no no… my brothers were the last of the Dragon Warriors. I shook my head vigorously. Dragons and Dragon Riders are outlawed and I the council will never let me leave this chamber let alone leave the castle. Tippa gently laid her hand on mine…. when was the time one of the council came to check on you she asked softly. For all they know you could be dead. I will continue to as if I am attending to your needs… they will know no difference. Tippa pressed a bundle onto my lap, supple riding breeches, a tunic, cloak and boots. You must change… swiftly, but first Weathersky needs you give you one last piece of information… I do? The wizard looked up momentarily confused…. ah yes… the Crystal of Invisibility… and here he held the crystal aloft… I would wish you could journey the whole way under it’s protection, but that would drain both you and the crystal… use it only if you must… and when you reach your destination offer it to the hatchling dragon and she will then know you are her rightful rider. Now quickly… change! I changed as fast as I could, returning in time to see a rope ladder sail over the old stone wall and descending the ladder a male figure dressed in dark cloak & hat… Come Cahira, Weathersky ordered… I’d like to meet your guide and protector, Wolfsbane Banner. An honor to be of service my queen said the watcher from the pomegranate orchard! It is time we left. **
Wolfsbane led me safely through the somber village to a grove of apple trees. To ensure we traveled the village streets unnoticed we were required to wear masks and carry a candle each blending in with the other ‘mourners’ who walked the dimly lit streets. Once in the safety of the grove we disposed of the masks and walked on to the forest beyond; here 2 horses waited for us, unfettered, the horses had been content to graze the juicy grass for the return of their human companion. The big bay approached Wolfsbane with obvious fondness, but the smaller black mare hung back until the mysterious man called to her. Lady Onyx, he said rubbing her nose, this is your rider, the Queen of Nesla, she is an accomplished rider and I trust you will carry her safely to our destination and home again. Wolfsbane waved me over, My Queen, Lady Onyx is yours now and you are hers. She is from the Heartland Valley and volunteered for this mission. I bowed my head in respect to Lady Onyx, for Heartland Valley horses are a rare courageous race who pledge commitment to one rider only. Should their rider die Heartland horses mourn deeply then return to their beloved valley where they live out their days refusing all other riders. It is an honor to meet you Lady Onyx, I promise that together we will always be, I told her softly; she snorted gently at my hair, bowing in acknowledgement. I knew you two ladies would be well suited, Lady Onyx comes from a royal line and her loyalty to you will be without question. Wolfsbane gestured for me to mount; we must be away, he instructed, dawn is almost upon us. We traveled in silence for some time; putting distance between the village and ourselves seemed to be an unspoken imperative. As the first rays of sun seeped into the forest it a sudden realization dawned on me. I was free! At least, free of the confines of my chambers and forced imprisonment. Free! I thought joyously, the very idea bubbled inside me until I could contain it no longer. I burst into spontaneous laughter… FREE! I yelled … how sweet the air, how glorious the forest sings! I am free! I heard a chuckle ahead of me; Wolfsbane pulled his horse Baldric to a stop, waiting for Lady Onyx and me to catch up. The morning rang with birdsong, dripping with sunlight and shadows. I knew I smiled like a silly girl, but did not care. My Queen… Stop…. I interrupted, I think that for the duration of this journey you should call me Cahira… one, I am not used to being addressed as my queen… and two, it might be safer for strangers not to realize who I am. Wisely said Cahira… you think like a true leader. The people will come to see that in time, Wolfsbane said with a nod; but your path back to the throne relies on us finding the dragon before anyone else does. But the dragon has not yet hatched, so Weathersky said, I ventured.
That is so… and we do have an advantage, for I do know exactly where the egg rests and have been watching over it for some time. Wolfsbane’s expression grew pensive… you see I was there when the last Nesla dragon laid her egg. The mother was a rare magic dragon by the name of Lyrica. To ensure her unborn babe would be safe she placed a spell on the egg, one that slowed the gestation until the human chosen to be the baby dragon’s carer, companion and rider was old enough and wise enough to protect her. Me? I exclaimed. The mother dragon new about me? She did, Wolfsbane nodded, for her rider was your oldest brother, Rico. I was quite speechless; I turned Lady Onyx away, urging her into a slow walk. We did not go far. I sat comfortably on Onyx’s sturdy back, gazing into a pool of liquid sunshine that warmed the banks of a slow moving river. A silence seemed to fill the forest… even the birds were subdued. Cahira… I know all this is new to you, this news, the dragon egg, your role… Wolfsbane cleared his throat… I’m sorry I’ve spoiled your exuberance at finally being free… but our mission is for the greater good; the future of dragons, you and your people hinge on this journey being a success. We had best continue then, I replied softly, lead on. We traveled on in silence; I sat lost in thought, neither directing Lady Onyx nor hindering, trusting that she would follow Wolfsbane. Which she did. The sun rose high in the sky until its position signaled midday. We were travelling around the grassy slopes of a huge lake; mountains dominated the horizon and looking around I realized I had no idea where I was, travelling to an unknown destination with a man I knew nothing about. Does life really change in this manner? It didn’t feel as if I was dreaming and yet the whole day seemed imbued with a surreal quality. We should eat, Wolfsbane called back to me and without another word changed course, heading to a strand trees not far from the glassy lake. Wolfsbane dismounted, unfastening a bundle from which he produced fruit cheese and bread. An awkwardness stood between us. We could not travel together day after day in this fashion. I sighed deeply. Wolfsbane I have a few questions, I began… I will do my best to answer all your questions, Wolfsbane replied, over lunch… We sat and ate; the horses grazed the banks of the lake, occasional fish jumped clear of the deep translucent surface creating rings within rings when they re-entered the water. Where are we? I asked, what lake is this? This is Lake Alverdine my lady. Then those are the Sedana Cra mountains? I asked. Yes they are and the central Cra is our destination, Wolfsbane informed me. You said, I continued, that this journey is for the greater good; the future of dragons me and my people . How can one baby dragon ensure the future of the dragon race?
This dragon, Bellatrixa, is the last of the Nesla dragons, Wolfsbane said. But there are other dragons, admittedly rarer and fewer these days… but I have a young dragon in my care, a male who will one day mate with Bellatrixa. And there are others; they will no longer be Nesla dragons or Wingward dragons or Alverdine dragons… but the dragon race will increase with our help. I see… I looked out across the mirror-like surface of Lake Alverdine… scudding clouds reflected in the water and the last words of the council came back to me… “Collect all the Mirrors, don't forget the mirrors, she must not see her reflection again!” I rose to my feet, engulfed in that surreal feeling which had haunted me all day. I walked slowly to the edge of Lake Alverdine, and took a deep breath before looking into that mirror-like surface. I saw traces of my mother, who denied me love… a little of my brothers who promised to take care of me. I saw a stranger, older then I remembered myself to be. Again I sighed deeply; my life had taken a sudden turn, destiny was in my hands. I had to make this work. We had best continue, I informed Wolfsbane, more assured now, stronger, determined. I will not fail in this quest. Wolfsbane flashed me a roughish smile… I never doubted you Queen Cahira. A new reign is about to begin and the people will call your name in the streets.
I have no interest in such accolades, I retorted gently. But I will not see the dragon race die out, nor see the prosperity of dragons in the hands of the less scrupulous. Neither will be I be returned to those chambers which have imprisoned me!
** We traveled for days, stopping only briefly for midday refreshments traveling on again until the sun set on each day; By the light of a small fire we cooked our evening meal, talking on all manner of topics until there was little we didn’t know about each other. Or so I thought. One morn I woke early, and while still laying in my bedroll, watching as the day lightened around me; smoke drifted from the fire in lazy swirls disappearing into the leafy canopy overhead. I noticed Wolfsbane kneeling not far away, in his cupped hands a small bowl of tallow set with a wick, judging by the tiny flame that flickered from the wide opening. From a pouch Wolfsbane produced a dried leaf which he crumpled into dust, sprinkling the particles over the tallow-flame. The flame flared green and blue, tinges of purple and the scent of sage wafted over to me where I lay. I watched as he mumbled a few words in prayer before pinching the flame out with his bare fingers; Wolfsbane looked up then to see me watching, merely nodding to acknowledge my presence. He wrapped the bowl carefully before returning it to his saddlebag.
I didn’t know you held to the old ways, I said. I didn’t know you knew of old ways, he countered. Of course I know, I felt myself retort… was I not mostly raised by Tippali and Weathersky? Enough said then, Wolfsbane smiled… next time you can join me. I would be honored, and I too smiled, knowing our connection had just deepened. * On the 14th afternoon of travel Wolfsbane reined Baldric into a sparse grove of wild plum, motioning me to follow. There! He indicated the southern ridge of the middle Cra of Sedana Cra mountains. Travelers. They can only be looking for one place. The nesting cave of the unborn dragon! The party of men were not so distant that we could not tell they were heavily armored; slanting sun glanced of breast-plates and blades as the men took a rocky path up the mountain side. What shall we do? I asked fear & adrenaline pumping my heart to beat faster… we cannot let them…. Not we, I, Wolfsbane said in a commanding voice… you must continue on towards the cave, Lady Onyx knows the way… I will deal with this scum. But there are five of them! I exclaimed suddenly beset with fear for his safety. Only five? I almost feel sorry them. Now you go! And with that he nudged Lady Onyx into a gallop. It was all I could do to hang on until I regained my balance… but then Lady and I flew as one under and around tall trees that guarded the base of Middle Cra. I lost all sight of Wolfsbane. Lady scouted around a small lake coming out on the northern side and from there we headed up. She raced sure-footedly up the mountain until we broke through the trees onto a small plateau. And there I spotted the dark opening of a cave. Before I had a chance to dismount all chaos seemed to break out… a riderless Baldric appeared from the southern edge of the Cra and then I heard a mysterious howl that would wake the dead of night. From above a massive shadow plummeted down the mountain side, skimming the treetops with an angry shriek… a black dragon! I heard the clash of swords and a man’s death screams… and then an eerie silence. I finally found my legs to dismount, but still held tightly to Lady’s neck. Both our hearts beat fiercely, but upon hearing the sky approach of the new dragon I drew my sword standing between the dragon and the heaving Lady Onyx. Much to my relief and delight, the dragon alighted nearby… with Wolfsbane as rider! * We spent several days on the small plateau, waiting and watching; Finally, by the light of the full moon we witnessed the birth of Bellatrixa, last of the pure blood Nesla dragons. How blessed to sit in that dim cave, to watch with breath held as a tiny head poked through the large cracked egg. In shimmering shades of green and purple the baby dragon peered around until she found what she was looking for… me! The exiled Queen of Nesla. The bond was instant and beautifully warming.
Bellatrixa stumbled onto my lap, a contented purr rumbling in her throat I found myself weep silent tears of joy, and then Bellatrixa and I curled up together and slept. * The dragon youngling grew fast on our return journey; day by day she grew too big to hold… too big to share Lady Onyx’s saddle… within a 5-moon Bellatrixa was flying and by the time we returned to the apple grove outside the village I was able to ride with her. Wolfsbane bade us stay hidden until the next morn… then he left heading back to inform Weathersky of our safe return. The next morn Wolfsbane returned with both Weathersky and Tippa; I was instructed to change into royal garb and fly to the green which lay between the castle and the village square. It was imperative I make a grand arrival … in the very place where my brothers use to land with their dragons. Of course everyone saw a dragon flying over the village… everyone saw a dragon head to the green… by the time I landed the castle courtyard was bustling with councilmen and dignitaries and the perimeters of the green thronged with villagers of all ages. I held myself in regal poise, holding up my hand for silence. I am Cahira your rightful Queen, I said in my most commanding voice… and I will no longer remain hidden and silent. A new day has dawned… There shall be no more tears shed on this land * I made Wolfsbane my commander, and Weathersky and Tippa my advisors. And by choice I was benevolent to the councilmen who imprisoned me, pensioning them off to live quiet lives in the country. A new day had dawned… There were no more tears shed on this land in the name of old Queen. *
Poetic Tales & Imagery- Sharon Lee Goodhand