Guardian Dragons
Page 13
Compelled with her obligations to protect the creatures of the Light Side, she pushed her stamina to the bitter edges. Dayloon replaced Nytloon then came back again, and finally she landed, rather ineptly and with ungainly expertise. This was not a time for flawless perfection.
The Wise One had been expecting her arrival for many moonwakes. Cautiously positioning himself well away from her landing site, he watched over the dusty trail that stood at the top of a yellow stone crag, waiting to see a plunging dragon, the arrival of his long time friend Queen Thimat. The Wise One felt a chill in his aching old bones. Trembling under a thick blanket poncho, he struggled to inhale into his lungs to breathe the fresh warm air. Once Queen Thimat was secure on the ground, she raised her head and looked up to see the ancient old human. She greeted him in Mindtalk.
My salutations to you Wise One. Of course, I should have known that you would be aware of my coming? The Queen stated more than enquired. She snorted at the air worriedly, detecting signs of illness in her human companion.
‘Come my friend,’ the old man spoke the human tongue. ‘You’ve had a long journey and I don’t wish to speak with you until you’ve rested. I sense the unease of the Dark Side. While I grow old and frail, my magic weakens. Yet I still feel responsible for the safety of our peoples. Come, let’s go eat, I have a fresh plump goat waiting to be your supper.’ The dragon Queen could not form the human words but she could understand any dialogue of any creature of this world.
Dayloon shimmered with a warm yellow glow, high in the opal blue skies. The sun seemed to respectfully cool itself almost as if it knew that time within the Light Lands was entering the phase of moonsleep for humans and many other creatures and Nytloon would soon be back. Queen Thimat, felt weary from an unbroken journey. She stretched up her long neck so her head rested on the edge of the crag where the wise old man stood. He carefully climbed onto her long snout and she assisted him in sliding down her sleek neck. It was easier than stumbling down the hobbly hill. He wedged himself at the bottom of the scaly slope by perching behind the first long spike that protruded behind her shoulder blades, if dragons possess such things as shoulders. He held on to the bony spike whilst she slowly brought her long snout to the ground at her feet. Awkwardly he clambered off her neck wondering if it would have been easier and quicker to just have hobbled down the embankment of the high crag. No matter, they set off again but at a slow pace as he tottered with the aid of his staff. She took the lead down a trail of dry loose stones. To the old man it was usually a bumpy trail, but the pebbles were easily crushed beneath Thimat’s stomping feet, which made the path smoother to his aching knee joints. They ambled downhill until they reached a wide alleyway in the cleft of two dark cliff faces. The opening was just large enough to allow the dragon entry. Not many would dare to tread down such an alleyway where ghostly mists swirl around in the desolate black darkness of the shadowed spaces. Thimat was familiar with the route, knowing it would eventually lead to a large opening in the rock face. Upon entering the network of caves they kept their pace steady, without stopping or slowing, following the spiraling tunnels leading in a downwards direction.
Finally arriving at an enormous cavern where stalactites and stalagmites of long shimmering crystals made the cave appear to possess a huge set of long sharp teeth, they stopped. The whole cavern appeared as a cosy chamber. Beautiful wooden carved furniture filled the room. Large colourful tapestries hung on shiny grey slate walls. Thickly woven rugs covered much of the floor space. It was an inviting friendly and somewhat magical grotto.
The chamber was cooler than the constant heat of the sun outside but it was by no means cold. It furrowed out large enough for Thimat to fit inside quite comfortably. For his aches and pains, the old man burned coals low within an open hearth surrounded by a circle of bright white chalk stones. The orange glow reflected the dragon’s shape by creating a huge dark dancing shadow on the jagged walls.
‘An old man needs to keep a warm hearth,’ he explained almost defensively, putting on more coals.
Thimat glanced over at him as he huddled in a bundle of darkly dyed woolen blankets. Her friend was suffering the effects of very old age. Known to the humans as the Ancient Mage, Saurlton Barronz, had lived through many an adventure with her. This frail old man had been a powerful human with a wise head and a wonderful heart. She smiled, remembering how often he would forgot his correct human name, having lived as so many different creatures using his Changeling skills. It was no surprise that he was occasionally forgetful. That he often struggled to return back to his original form because he could not think which of all the creatures he truly belonged to. They were but costumes.
Saurlton, Thimat Mindtalked. You may wish to enter the human sleep before we commence our discussion. It is most urgent we deliberate on my tidings but it can be delayed a short interval.
‘Sleep!’ He yelled. ‘Time enough there will be for that later, Thimat. There is much to be considered. I must know what rumours are amiss in the Dark Lands. I am sensing dark times in the world of which I fear cannot be undone.’
This is my dread also, that many are to perish in the hands of this evil, Thimat expressed. As you know Saurlton, it is the time of the suncircle for the dragons to pass through the Wall to see that there is no dissension among the dwellers upon the Dark, and we search for signs of assault upon our Wall.
‘And, is the Wall in danger?’ Saurlton asked concerned.
We do believe that something is stirring but we see no immediate danger to the Wall. Thimat stretched her long neck to the ceiling, careful of the glittering stalactites, she did not desire the jaws of the cave to puncture her scaly skin. Bowing her head in a downwards motion to be nearer the level of her friend, she began to explain the events of their previous expedition.
What we did witness was a troupe of vamplin commanders, led by the vamplin Lord, returning from the Ice Land of Nilfe. We are certain that they had crossed the threshold of Emperor Morte- Bielz. This is of grave concern Wise One. I come to you to ask for your words of wisdom on the consequence of such a meeting.
‘Indeed Thimat,’ Saurlton spoke aloud, his voice quivering at the impending horrors that the future held for Aarabassa. ‘I have sensed disturbing visions that indicate troubled times ahead for those on the Light Side. There is written an old prophecy that has not yet been fulfilled. “When an angel births evil, then dark shadows shall seep into the light.” We will tumble to our demise if this prophecy is fulfilled.’ Saurlton now looked weary at the telling of this prediction. In his entire existence, he had always sought to protect the Light Lands from evil. He never felt very powerful in his human form, as age slowed his body.
You should seek an apprentice Saurlton, Thimat suggested with concern for her friend of many suncircles. You could use a little human help.
Nah, human life is too fragile, Saurlton lamented, switching to Mindtalk in his weariness. Prone to too many physical pains of which I feel in my bones and my muscles and every joint that bends. I am tempted to stay as a dragon or some creature whereby my bones won’t creak as much as they do in the human form. Drained of power, he silently continued. Fate has already chosen my follower who will aid the creatures of this world. As a human, he was obliged to follow the natural routine of his body, and the enticement of sleep now lured him with Nytloon in the skies.
‘There is a new Changeling in the world, as you know Thimat’ Saurlton stated, yawning sleepily.
Do you seek this girl as your apprentice? Thimat enquired.
‘No, no. I fear she will play a different role in the future. My apprentice will come to me, of this I have no doubt, I shall not have to look far. However, the Changeling is still young and vulnerable.’
Will you not contact her Saurlton? And perhaps give her guidance.
‘No Thimat. This I cannot do. She will need to decide upon her own destiny, all by herself. Let us just hope that the child steps carefully and wisely. She has good people around to guide her.’
I will not meet with you again until the time of battle. For now, we have no strengths. The creatures of the Light Lands are diffused and too lax. If we told them of the dangers, they would not believe an old man and a giant dragon, even if she is a powerful and beautiful Queen. No, no Thimat. They must decide for themselves on their course of action when the time is come. Meanwhile we can prepare. The Changeling will come to you in due course. You will accompany her through the Wall.’
Why Wise One? Thimat wondered. Why would she feel the need to go to the other side?
‘She will be compelled. She will not want to go but will have no choice. You cannot hope to assist her for long. Our role will be to ready our armies. On my part, it will be to train another. You, Thimat, your kind are to face your old enemies.’
You cannot mean this Saurlton. She feared for her kin. What of the Wall that still keeps the evil from our doorstep?
‘It can be destroyed,’ he reluctantly admitted, ‘but only by one and if he is awoken, then we need to be ready.’
I know of what you speak Wise One. I know that my kind will fight to protect all the creatures of the Light Lands. Should we let the Leaders know of the dangers?
‘Would they listen, Queen? The humans are already stirring with unrest. If I was to show myself they would just spend too much time debating if I was whom I say I am. I say that you should ready your kind and I should muster my powers as best I can.’
I should at least send word to the Head Mage. He surely can persuade the King to ready the human armies. Thimat could not just sit idly by. She had to warn the Light Land creatures somehow.
‘If you think so Thimat.’ He was aware of the Queen dragons protective nature. ‘Personally, I believe that humans just spend too much time talking. Maybe I’m just out of touch. Very well, do what you must Thimat, if you think it’ll do any good.’
The old man slowly shrugged off his blanket coverings and leaned heavily on his staff to steady himself as he stood. He fondly stroked the nose of the huge dragon and thought he saw a tear in her ruby eye. But, a dragon cannot cry; otherwise he would have been truly dumbfounded. This dragon was one of his oldest friends and he feared for the loss of these beautiful mysterious creatures in the difficult times that were to come. Sluggishly, he hobbled towards a large dark alcove to pass through an open doorway leading to passages that would eventually merge with many unwalked paths; he did not turn back to look at the dragon. The dragon watched his silhouette gradually fade into the darkness of the tunnels. A murmur of sorrow pumped in her heartbeat. Thimat wished that dragons could weep.
Chapter 27 Kings and Mages
King Alfred Gilgam rules the Kingdom of Lairkland jointly, with the Head Mage Heimarl, in the Royal City of Beldroth within the Light Lands.
His thoughts were rarely concerned with the affairs of state. Instead, he sank deeper, with every passing moon, into his own inner desolation. He ached for his long lost wife Elma. Ten suncirlces ago she had lost her battle between life and death. The sorrow had overwhelmed him in his old age. Once, a tall well muscled strong charismatic figure who ruled with love for his people and ferocity for his enemies, which were few. Yet now, this heartbreaking tragedy had aged and bent him to a withering weak old man. Thin strands of silver grey hair straggled down from his balding head, the thick dark black curls of his youth no longer evident. A gritty mangled beard drooped from his chin. He had no heart to care for his looks any more. His will for life had diminished. Without his beloved Elma by his side, there was no reason to live in this painful world a moment longer. True, he did love his three sons dearly. It was also true that he had tried hard not to blame the death of his treasured wife upon his youngest son Raphael. Yet just looking at the boy was always but a constant reminder to him of that doomed day, when she had died giving birth to him. He did not care for the company of his young cursed son.
Sitting alone, in a self-created world of solitude, bearing a thin and frail bone structure, he perched at the very edge of a large ornate wooden chair, covered with the riches of fine royal blue linen. Both arms leaned upon the table at his front as he balanced in a weary posture, head buried in palms upon raised elbows he waited, without interest, for the arrival of the others. Again, he delved his inner thoughts onto a desolate island of solitude. He cared not if the others turned up. He remained trapped, attempting to capture impressions of times gone by of a wife who no longer lived. A wife he had cherished beyond life itself. A woman who had equalled the richest treasure he had every desired. If only she were by his side, holding his hand. If only he could just be with her once again.
He did not notice the bright sun rays piercing the stained glass windows and brightening the table he tiredly leaned on. Nor, the millions of tiny dust particles that danced in the lines of dazzling white rays. Time stood still for Alfred Gilgam. He lived only for the past. There was no future, no here and now. He belonged nowhere. Lost.
His face lifted as he blankly stared down the long table. A shiny jug, with cold pale ale, and matching silver goblets stood solitary in the middle of the table, waiting to refresh those who rushed around in the heat of the moonwake. He did not drink of this ale but sat with a goblet of strong dark red wine. He preferred this pungent refreshment, it would eventually numb his body and mind. All regal manners had deserted him long ago.
The heavy wooden door creaked upon its hinges as the Head Mage Heimarl entered first, followed by his circle of confidants. Each High Mage acted as Head Principle for their specific area of magic. Their power over such skills had earned them a seat upon the King’sCouncil. They greeted their King with a fondness and understanding that he no longer wished to rule. They were secure in the knowledge that it would not be long before Prince Amos’s Crowning Ceremony.
Alfred looked through hazed eyes at the antiquated mages with their long white plaited beards and rich cream cotton robes, gathered under a thin braided white leather belt at the waist. Each wore a light beige cloak of soft thin canvas with a large hood to protect them from the bright sun. This was the dress code of all mages, be they of high or low order. Appearance was not of importance to the male mage community.
Heimarl took his seat next to the King whilst the others partook in the refreshments provided. Placing a friendly hand upon the King’s shoulder, Heimarl smiled at his lifelong friend.
‘You are well Alfred?’ he asked of his partner.
‘Hmph,’ Alfred grumbled. ‘I would be better if I did not have to be here.’
‘It is good fortune then that you have three able sons to take the worries from your burdened shoulders,’ Heimarl reminded him.
‘I have only two sons who are capable of that and one of them has his head in the clouds most of the time,’ the King replied.
‘Leon is still young Alfred. There is time for him to take on responsibilities. You would not wish him to grow old too quickly. Amos is a man now for sure. He will be a caring King as was his father before him. We need only to find him a wife!’
‘His father before him is a fool,’ Alfred was not happy with himself.
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Heimarl smiled. ‘His wits may not be as quick in his old age, but a fool? I say he is a wise old man who needs more rest than he used to.’
The door had been left ajar and again it squeaked fully open, Prince Amos entered. Walking with his head held high, he did not purposely pose regally, it was just his natural stance and walk that he had acquired over the suncircles of vigorous training as the heir to the throne. Also attired in simple clothing of a three quarter length pale green light cotton robe, belted at the waist with similar braided leather, tight black pantaloons with soft brown leather sandals that tied with a long strap bound arou
nd his shin, over his leggings.
Greeted with smiles and friendly hugs from the High Mages, whom he had known all his life, he took his seat on the opposite side to Heimarl and next to his King. Noticing his father’s fatigued posture, he wished he could have spared him from attending this Council meeting. When he becomes King, his father will rest easy in a back seat as Advisor, and then maybe he will be a little happier. Amos was not keen in taking over the seat as Ruler but he was aware that his father struggled with this role and that his health was deteriorating too quickly. Soon, he would need to demonstrate the skills of a wise and powerful leader. With his father by his side and Hiemarl at his other side, the Kingdom should be safe.
The King began in a strained weakened voice. ‘I will get straight to the point,’ he paused, wheezing with a faint whistle to his struggled breathing. ‘I have no desire for this to ramble on.
Heimarl bears ill news from Queen Thimat of the Guardian Dragons of these lands. They have grave concerns of a mass flight that they witnessed in the Dark Lands of the vamplin Lord Fiendric leaving the lands of the monshaad Emperor Morte-Bielz. As your King I put it to you that ---.’
‘I also have news of these creatures my King,’ one of the High Mages excitedly interrupted.
‘Well?’ The disgruntled King managed a yell. ‘You appear to believe your news takes preference so I implore you; take the lead of the table. My news can wait, I’m sure.’
‘Apologies sire’ the guilty mage beseeched, facial features flushed pink. ‘It is just that in my study of bugs and insects I have learned well the pattern of the Dumla beetle, that of which the vamplins feed upon.’