Guardian Dragons

by Catherine L Vickers

  ‘Forgive me Lord Hyfer but I am not aware of any Primary Union and what have I got to do with your son needing a bride?’ Minnah choked out the words.

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you have been given much time to prepare yourself but that can come later. Please, come and meet my son Heimarl, and all will be revealed.’

  Heimarl had watched Minnah’s arrival from his viewpoint where he stood unobserved on a landing at the top of a yellow sand stone stairway. He was aware that she would have no idea who had been sending her the fragrant bouquets. She had no idea who had really invited her to this sudden supper, on this moonsleep. He was most curious to observe her reactions as her mystery unravelled. This would reveal telltale signs of her character and maybe help him to understand who she was and why he felt so attracted to her. Just as his father arrived to greet her, he began his descent towards the reception hall. As his father and Minnah turned around to enter the dining hall he had timed his arrival to perfection, ready to greet Minnah before she entered the room where others awaited.

  ‘Ah, there you are Heimarl,’ his father announced. ‘Minnah and I are going to supper. Come along, your mother’s in the dining hall. I must admit the Cachorrenas soup is the best in these lands, I just love those clams. Minnah, let me introduce you to my eldest son and heir, Heimarl,’ Hyfer spoke as if this were just any normal introduction. But to Minnah and Heimarl, this moonsleep would yield answers.

  ‘Minnah,’ Heimarl looked directly in to her sea blue eyes as he gently took her fingertips into his large hands. ‘I trust you welcomed my gifts of sweet scented blooms? It was perhaps not fair to assume that you would appreciate anonymous offerings but at least now you know who the culprit is. I’ve long admired your gracefulness and merely wished to induce your curiosity. Can you forgive such a clumsy attempt at courting?’

  Minnah blushed as she stuttered to reply, ‘I’m privileged to warrant your attentions sir. My curiosity was indeed roused. May I ask, have we met before as I have a vague memory of your face?’ Minnah confidently confronted her suitor.

  ‘I’ve had the pleasure of observing you many times but, again, I apologise as you haven’t closely encountered my presence. You may have seen me from a distance. It is with regret that I’ve been unable to introduce myself to you. I have political pressures upon me to choose a suitable wife. Your birthright entitles you to marry into the mage bloodline. This however, isn’t the right time for you to decide. I suppose Minnah I am proposing that we join in marriage, if you’ll have such a fool as me?’ Heimarl’s blunt attempt to explain all to Minnah convinced him he had just opened up a pathway to disaster and Minnah would most certainly reject his impolite and crude offer.

  ‘Come young people,’ his father called from the opened dining hall doorway that revealed an orange glow of light and the sound of people conversing. ‘Let’s fill our empty bellies before we proceed with this ill mannered conversation. Forgive my son’s coarse attempts at flattery Minnah. He means well but is under pressure as my heir. I grow old, very old and need my food so can we eat now?’

  Minnah laughed and relaxed a little, believing the old man was genuinely hungry and all formalities could wait until later. She felt her tummy churn with light butterfly movements of excitement. Heimarl was most certainly tall and handsome. Already she knew her answer to his proposal but would not reveal this to him, only to his father. She wished to play her own game of courting and find the romance in Heimarl’s heart.

  Chapter 20 Voices

  The wedding was all that Minnah could ever have hoped for.

  Her parents were summoned to attend Beldroth city to meet with the Head Mage’s family and discuss their daughter’s marriage. When they arrived, a ceremony was held in their honour and the family was accepted and welcomed into the High Mages Dynasty. Minnah’s humble parents could never change their traditional way of life and chose to remain as travelers, content that their daughter would successfully continue the lineage and fuse it with that of Heimarls, this would indeed produce a powerful grandchild.

  Only two suncirlces after the union, Heimarl’s father Hyfer departed from his life bequeathing his leadership to Hiemarl. Minnah was quick to befriend Queen Elma and a bond was to entwine their hearts closely. They kept each other company whilst their loving husbands played politics. Often their girlish pranks were considered not befitting of ladies of nobility but King Albert’s eccentric mother always assisted them out of any troubles that they found themselves in. Their friendship remained deep for another twelve suncircles but motherhood was eventually to capture them both and end their immature manners. When the first royal baby arrived, Queen Elma adored her young son Amos and finally began to behave as expected of a noble lady.

  It was to be another four suncircles before Minnah gave birth to a daughter, at her passing of twenty three suncircles. Already Queen Elma now had two sons. Head Mage Hiemarl could have taken many wives, as was expected of his status, to ensure inheritance. Even Hyfer, his father, had taken five wives although

  Heimarl’s mother had been the Head Wife. His devotion to Minnah had never diminished and so far he had refrained from partaking in this tradition. When their child Heather finally decided to enter into the world, she was considered a very special little bundle. As with any child of the magic bloodline, no one can be sure exactly what type of magic they may inherit, but the Prophet Sibarl had predicted that this child’s gift was worth the long wait, she was born to be a Changeling. It had been many thousands of suncircles since a child with this endowment had come forth. The Ancient Mage had been the last Changeling.

  When he had created the Magic Wall, the spell he cast had allowed only the Guardian Dragons and any Changeling to pass through the barrier. This meant this girl child would be raised to be a Protector; she was the only human capable of passing through the barrier.

  Queen Elma died tragically five suncircles later, giving birth to her youngest son Raphael. Minnah had refused to have anymore children as her grief for her friend was so great. Heimarl as Head Mage was expected to have many children, so he was forced to take more wives and produce more offspring. Two wives later, he generated another five girls. He loved all of his daughters but always his heart remained exclusive for Minnah and her daughter Heather.

  King Alfred had also been a devoted husband but when Elma left him to enter the Realm of Death, his heart had been broken. He was no longer a good father and he was no longer a good King. The people had loved him but their patience was wearing ever thin. It was time for his son Prince Amos to be crowned King, then he could finally find peace with the world.

  * * *

  Head Mage Heimarl awoke with a sudden jolt. His mind felt very receptive, almost raw. He was the only human mage with the power to use mind possession but he had chosen never to dabble in such dark magic. Feeling acutely aware of a strong evil at work, he could not identify what it was he was sensing. Something out there was attempting mind possession somewhere but he could not track it. He stood and looked around as if expecting to see this evil in his pretty garden. Shaking his head, assuming he must have been dreaming, he began to make his way back to the house. Perhaps he needed sustenance, his legs felt weakened. A house servant rushed to assist him, seeing his stumble.

  ‘Head Mage, are you hurt?’ the servant was concerned for this gentle leader.

  ‘Something struck me down,’ Heimarl mumbled quietly to himself.

  As the house servant assisted him, his thoughts were elsewhere. He realised, he had been attacked by a strong evil presence.

  * * *

  King Alfred slept restlessly. During his slumber, he had suffered a powerful jolt through his body. He woke up with a shocking start, shivering in a cold sweat with a dreaded exhausted feeling that he had been running from a dreadful evil. Something was chasing him but what had it been? He looked around his room but could see nothing amiss. His room was fresh and bright just as it had been when he had nodded off to sleep. Yet his body felt clammy. What was this drea
ded feeling he was sensing? Something was going to happen; he sensed a bad premonition. Yet all appeared well. There had been no wars for over one hundred suncircles so what was he afraid of? His head ached. Did he hear a whisper?

  ‘Who’s there?’ the King murmured fretfully like a meek child.

  I am coming for you Alfred a voice echoed in his mind. Stumbling off his bed, he fell onto the slippery tiled floor.

  Unable to balance his quivering body, he crawled to the closed door. Sssooon Alfred. Sssooon your soul will be mine.

  ‘Go Away!’ the King yelled fearfully.

  His door swung open as his personal manservant dashed into the room to answer the call of his master.

  ‘Sire, what is it?’ the servant asked in a panicked rush. ‘Who do you speak to my King?’

  ‘What, what’s that you say?’ the King looked at his servant with hazed eyes. ‘What do you want?’ the King shouted to the ceiling. Lowering his gaze, he focused on his servant. ‘Oh it’s you. I must have had a bad dream. Call my son Amos. I will have his advice. Call him now.’

  Pleasant company, yes that was what he needed. He would seek solace from Amos. If only his sweet wife was here by his side. If only she still lived, then all would be well.

  His manservant dashed from the rooms to find the palace healer. His King was unwell. He must hurry, the King had gone insanely mad.

  Chapter 21 Monshaad Wraiths

  Stretched out across the ice caps of Nilfe, on the Dark Side of Aarabassa, thousands of bleak lonely miles fill the landscape with black frozen ice blocks that boldly tower over the chilly silver seas of the Archaroneon Oceans. A vile evil threatens to violate the protective Magic Wall of the Light Side and consume the innocent souls of every living creature.

  Incarcerated in the Dark Side, by the Magic Barrier, the monshaad Lords reign using their dark magic skills of mind possession. Their greed of devouring living souls feeds them the strength to remain the ruling race. Seen as only a shadowy grey-yellow blur, they leave a foul lingering stench in their path; a dark murky spectral of pure evil.

  With the capacity to bewitch any meek susceptible mind, through telepathy, of any land or sea creature on either the Dark or Light Lands, their reach is long. Mercilessly, the possessed will follow every command of the voices echoing in their minds. Some of their innocent victims have no recollection of what they do and simply obey whenever called upon, unknowingly, only remembering their actions as if in a dark distant dream. Some serve their Masters willingly. When the time is right, the possessed crazed creatures will be the pawns within a great battle of the Dark Side against the Light Side. They will turn against their loved ones, their neighbours, their fellow citizens.

  Those who serve their Dark Masters willingly will gladly kill for the monshaads to enable their Masters to claim the dead body’s living soul, through the minion’s possessed mind. If the poor murdered soul is lucky, it will become compelled to the misery of the Dark mid-mountains of Madzren to roam around as a lost soul until the monshaad Lords should have need of them. If unlucky, it will be absorbed into the will of the monshaad, never to be released to find peace in the Realm of the Dead. That is unless the Dark Lord that controls it ceases to exist, then all he possesses is released but according to legend, a monshaad exists for ever.

  Only another with equal power of mind control, such as the human High Mage, can cause a monshaad any pain. Heimarl would never wish to enter the dark pits of a monshaad’s mind.

  The monshaads do not work alone. Upon their dark frozen lands there also dwells the mir, frost giants. These piteous fiends are the spawn of the dark entities. Concocted of the deepest blackest of ice and pure dark magic that compels them to motion, they vacantly perform at the command of the monshaad Lords. With the mighty strength of a giant, the mir have raised complex edifices of impenetrable ice that stand as isolated, menacing, windowless towers containing dense networks of constricted corridors leading to smaller cavities and vaults. These chambers stand empty of any furnishings or cosy warm fires. They are the cold damp haunts of the monshaad Lords. Deep within the ominous abode, the damnable floating dark shadows remain the grim Masters of the Dark Side of all of Aarabassa.

  A frozen damp chill hovered in the biting thin air of the vault room where the monshaad Emperor presently lingered.

  Hissing gasses swirl through the corridors as the evil vaporous creatures crawl around the tunnels. No need of sweet fresh air, no need of hard ground to walk upon. This cold ground is treacherous wet ice. No need of light: the tunnels are pitched in blackness.

  The Emperor patiently waits for the visit of his neighbour, the vamplin Lord Fiendrac, whom he had summoned. Vamplins could not enter the deathly tunnels of the monshaad tower. Instead, he would meet them in the huge great hall that traditionally served as a reception hall, once brightly lit with constant burning candles. In days gone by, when the Magic Wall did not stand, these brightly lit ice towers lured in travelers who would innocently look on in bewilderment at the spectacle of the bright giant ice-tower. Once coaxed in by their curiosity, they would hypnotically wander into the never ending and constantly winding wet passageways where they would be captured by the lingering dark shadows and devoured of every living thread. When the Magic Wall appeared, the passers-by no longer passed by. No longer do creatures or humans venture to the dark ice peaks of Nilfe.

  The Emperor made his way through the ice corridors towards the great hall; he could hear the vamplin Lord’s arrival. Noisily, they steered their huge white flying bascas onto a large patch of flat soft snow. Their sheer size nearly always guarantees a clumsy land and the smooth snow was soon pushed up to create havoc upon the landscape. The red eyes of the basca focused on the ground as they stretched out their long bony brown legs in anticipation of the impact. Vast white wings slowly bent backwards as these creatures ineptly concluded their flight. Wide-open mouths reveal elongated yellowed fangs, used for piercing skin to ready their kill for the suckling of that sweet desirable pumping blood. Calling to each other with deafening shrills they reveal black forked tongues. Raising huge bony bodies, they attempt to walk on emaciated curved legs hindered with extended bone claws at the ends of their three long boned toes. Claws used for clutching at hardened ice, they grapple at the fluffy soft snow for balance. Slowly folding back their wings to settle while waiting for their Masters’ return, their round bulging eyes scan the skies for any signs of danger.

  Vamplin commanders landed, scattered in chaotic disorder, leaving their creatures to rest while they followed their Lord, who by now had dismounted. Lord Fiendrac was particularly fond of his basca, having raised it from an egg hatchling. Large ferocious vamplin hounds jumped from the backs of their rides and stood guarding the flock of basca. Working as a close team, hounds and bascas would guard each other. The vamplin Lord never risked the danger of coming alone to visit the monshaad Emperor. This hazardous journey could have a perilous end. Although the entire group of monshaads totaled only forty, should they attempt any underhand behaviour towards the vamplin ruler, there was little the vamplins could do other than seek a hasty retreat.

  Chapter 22 Vamplins

  The thick white skin of the vamplin does not suffer the extreme cold of the icy peaks. Standing tall and slender, their handsome features are human-like. Living in constant darkness their cat-like eyes are a golden yellow, with precision eyesight in the darkness. Their individual strength could easily equal five human men, making them fine warriors, both male and female. Traditionally their long white hair is never to be cut; it is carefully braided into many plaits entwined with plain braids for the male and colourful braids for the females. Not a gentle race but nor a cruel one, they live in harmony with their land. Having no magic skills, they accept with caution the leadership of the monshaad Emperor, but not all support his ambition to pass to the Light Lands.

  Monshaad Lords floated above them, whispering with an eerie silence. One vamplin commander, impatient with their gloating, roared loudly at the d
ark skies. Baring his teeth, he hissed at the annoying shadows to go away. Lord Fiendrac patiently smiled at the young commander, he understood how unnerving the monshaads can be. He followed a mir ice giant that had come to accompany him to its Master, who now waited in the great hall. Arriving at the ice tower the mir placed his long icy fingers gently into a thin crevice, pulling on a giant block of ice he opened up an entranceway in to the ice tower. Such entrances had not been needed for a long time so had been filled in with blocks of ice to keep the great hall in darkness. Standing in the open doorway Lord Fiendrac allowed his eyes to adjust to the deep darkness in front of him. He took a step backwards to reassure himself that he was not alone. Confidently glancing at his commanders who had positioned themselves behind him, he noticed that the silvery fingers of Dayloon cast a sinister grey of lightness to their features, they stared at him with an unsure nerviness. A land always blanketed in a grey darkness was a comfort to the creatures who could not bare bright light, yet the stark blackness of this hall was disturbingly chilling.

  The First Commander strolled over to stand sturdily by his Lord. A fine warrior who would risk his life for his Lord, that was his destiny, to protect the Leader of the vamplins at all cost. The First Commander took a step in front of his Lord and slowly entered the doorway, alone. Should there be any foulness in this meeting, he hoped to flush it out before it touched his Lord. Winds howled through drafty crevices. Obnoxious green gasses swirled in clouds. He caught a glimpse of a monshaad Lord floating above him. The gasses began to rise to the ceiling of the hall, in a dark distant corner he could just make out a long shape. Almost human looking, the shape floated a little above the ground, as if clothed in a long hooded robe. An arm rose and gestured him closer. He remained solid, unmoving and unstirred by any fear. Still not risking his Lord to enter the hall, he raised his shoulder and put up his hand to sign that all must stay back. Approaching the robe shaped shadow, his lips curled back baring his two sharp side fangs, a growl gurgled deep in his throat. This commander knew no fear, a trained combatant, having battled many an evil sea serpent attack; he would kill any that proved a threat to his people.