A E Johnson

by alice johnson

  my father, my people and your people,” he begged.

  Alder would have little choice but to listen.

  The world he spoke of was different. The lands of

  Cammbour were shaped differently to the ones he

  knew. The map of Cammbour was not as distant as

  the map of Earth. The dragons were a frequent visitor

  to the land of Cammbour. The gate could only be

  opened by a dragon’s star. Their free movement

  between worlds, however, was about to change.

  The dragons of Cammbour were smaller than

  those of myth and legend, standing around eight - ten

  feet tall. The large sire dragons - the males - stood

  around ten feet tall from foot to head, thirty feet long

  from nose to tail tip, their wings reached up to seventy-

  five feet from tip to tip, their wings were made of tiny

  ringed scales. The female dam dragons were slightly

  smaller, eight feet tall and twenty-five feet long, their

  wings would reach seventy feet from tip to tip. The

  colours of the dragons would light the skies over

  Britannia, but it was their power and knowledge which

  made them even more fascinating to the people there.

  They would talk to the stars, passing on messages from

  distant lands, and absorbing the ancient knowledge

  that the stars passed on to them.

  He had been there; he had seen the world of

  Cammbour; the last refuge for the dragons and

  mabeara. The bear-riders. The mabeara were the fey

  already familiar to Cammbour, they glided through

  their world undeterred, unharming. Mysterious in

  their nature, they remained as the fey of the

  mountains. Their duty on Cammbour was to shape

  the land. Small stone houses scattered the lands of

  Cammbour, they only built what they needed and

  given their small numbers, they needed extraordinarily

  little. The lands remained primitive, untouched, virgin

  soil.

  Cammbour played host to many different

  creatures, the pooka, a tiny creature, a shapeshifter, a

  wanderer, small, winged creatures no larger than ten

  inches, in true form they were humanoid with grey,

  green or brown skin. They often looked like they

  belonged to the trees where they lived. Their small

  wings could often be seen fluttering above the canopy.

  Able to appear as any pure creature of the forest, the

  pooka could be deceiving, however their mystique

  served only one purpose. They had dedicated their

  lives to nature, keeping everything in Cammbour crisp,

  new and flowing.

  Torbs were larger than a pooka but not as large as

  man, dwarf-like in stature, but their eagle like wings

  were often a vital part of their pride. Their chosen

  homes would often be found in large gatherings, living

  in carved caves and valleys. They enjoyed the

  company of others, however, the torbs had dedicated

  their lives to dark magic, drinking, eating and -

  anything which could be generally classed as fun.

  The merrow, a creature of both land and water.

  The mysteries of the merrow was something they kept

  closely guarded. They were another creature with the

  ability to shape-shift. They looked like ordinary man,

  but upon touching water their bodies would change,

  their hands and feet developed webs, their ears

  became their gills. The merrow were not always

  peaceful. Their need to remain elusive had cost many

  their lives. The merrow shared their waters with the

  sea monsters, mighty shadows of all different sizes

  would ride the waves, ready to pick off any

  unsuspecting vessel.

  A creature of peace, however, was the ggelf. Tiny

  little secret folk, the ggelf were an underground

  creature, they would rarely be graced by the eyes of

  man, but they were the keepers of the secrets of

  Cammbour. The tiny creatures were much like the

  small imps you would often read of in fairy tales, but

  their need to keep secrets would often be their

  downfall, refusing to even tell when they needed help,

  they were few in numbers, but large in knowledge.

  The world of Cammbour, however, held another

  creature. The creature called a gobgee. A goblin like

  abomination, the lowest form of intelligent life

  Cammbour held. Their customs were strange, their

  need for feasting on flesh seemed unquenchable.

  They were few in numbers, they would stick to the

  wildlands, feasting on the rotten flesh of dead animals.

  Their caves were often noticeable by the amount of

  bones which would line the paths towards them.

  The flora and fauna of Cammbour differed greatly

  to the world they knew. From the mighty Tharacka

  tree, an ever-blossoming tree, to the four horned deer.

  The customs were different, the mabeara were peace

  loving creatures, war had never tainted their lands.

  A last stand, the tribes of Britannia gathered below

  the mountains of Mourne. The Roman army dwarfed

  the gathered tribes, the battle would be quick, short,

  and bloody. Artnou stood with his legion of one

  thousand. Less than six hundred men faced them,

  they were underequipped, untrained and hopeless. As

  the battle call rang, Artnou thundered towards them

  atop his white stallion. As Artnou reached the line,

  Alder glared towards him, Artnou turned, he sliced

  down the first few centurions who roared towards

  them. Artnou was a traitor, a trickster, the legion was

  in a raging fury as they fought their own leader, their

  Legatus legiois.

  Swords rang in the bitter cold air, attracting the

  attention of the mighty white dragon. Amongst the fury

  of battle, Narra returned. Swords chimed; the noise of

  battle had brought the mighty beast to the skies above

  Artnou. She saw her long-lost friend amid the raging

  battle. Her heart fluttered as she flew above the

  carnage. She knew he had not changed. Her heart

  filled as she watched his sword slice the throats of the

  Roman’s he was there to lead. Blood had already

  begun to taint the grounds, the green grasses soon

  turned red.

  Joining the side of the fey, Artnou looked up to

  see Narra flying in the skies above him. He took his

  chance. Amidst the chaos, Artnou stepped further

  towards the Roman legion, Narra watched in

  trepidation as a centurion bolted towards Artnou,

  driving his sword directly through his chest.

  A mighty cry of pain rang out over the battle

  grounds, Artnou fell to his knees, Alder cut the

  centurion down. Blood began to pour from Artnou’s

  chest and mouth. Falling awkwardly to the floor his

  legs twisted behind him, a clatter of armour rang as he

  fell.

  Alder saw Narra erupting. “Fall back!” he called.

  Narra gave a mighty burst of flames, trapping the

  invading Romans they burnt where they stood, but

  more would soon follow.

  Narra’s unnatural obsession with Artnou was

  reborn. Their ch
ildhood together was the only

  moment in her life when she was genuinely happy.

  Blinded by love, Narra fell to the ground and galloped

  towards the calls of agony from Artnou. Alder and his

  tribe stood by Artnou’s side, panicked, the cold of

  winter gave a bitter stillness. They all knew he was

  dying, congealed blood spat from his mouth, struggling

  to breathe, Artnou looked to the thundering beast

  before him.

  Artnou struggled for breath as he cried, “Narra!”

  He reached out his bloody hand for one last touch of

  a scale. “Narra, please!” Still, he struggled as he lay in

  the cold mud of the battlefield.

  Alder shouted, “We must help him, Narra!” The

  chaos of battle seemed to calm as the dragon stood,

  confused. The next wave of Roman invaders began to

  appear over a distant hill, they knew they had little

  time before they would reach them. The remains of

  the Roman legion smouldered on the ground around

  them, it warmed the air, it was a disturbing thought for

  some, that the bodies of men heated the bitter air.

  Both Alder and Artnou knew what was about to

  happen was an abomination, but it was the only way,

  or at least that was what they told themselves.

  Narra looked to her champion, the man she lost so

  long ago was fading in front of her. She was panicked,

  her breath was short as she mumbled, “I can’t –” she

  struggled to find her words. “I need to think,” she

  stumbled. Looking to Artnou, she could see the light

  in his eyes was fading. Calm passed over the field.

  Giving one final breath, Artnou, her friend, her love,

  was gone, his eyes glared, empty, towards the skies.

  Without a moment’s thought she lifted the scales on

  her chest.

  Alder stepped forward, a moment of maddened

  remorse fell over him as he called to her, “Narra, no!”

  Narra looked to the small Fey beside her, she

  needed Artnou back, she sobbed, “I must do this.”

  Narra took a claw and gouged it into her chest, a

  mighty painfilled rumble shook the land as she did. As

  she moved her front claws from her chest, it held a

  white, glowing, blinding light.

  The army of the fey turned their heads, blinded by

  the light she held. They could see nothing until they

  heard the mighty call of Artnou, screaming and

  whaling in the muddy, blood-soaked field, he was

  back. Artnou had a chance at life again, he sprang

  from the ground like a phoenix reborn. He also now

  possessed the star of the queen of the skies, he had

  gained full control over the dragon’s gate.

  Standing in the field, Artnou raised his arms.

  Narra’s eyes widened towards him, her look of pain

  would have broken Artnou, but he was already a

  broken man. He whispered to her, “Apologies, Narra,

  I will always be yours.” His arms raised further as he

  called to the old gods, “Bavasis Mayher!” his voice was

  loud as it echoed around the hilly field, “Destari

  gambon prevoni!” He looked to Narra’s saddened

  face; her spirit was crushed.

  She had been tricked, the words he had spoken,

  no one should know. She now knew of the depth of

  his betrayal. The stars had spoken to her, many

  moons ago, of a dragon, slain to reveal his secret

  words. Nothing but the dragon’s star could open the

  gate, Artnou had found a way. The queen of the skies

  held power over all, it held the power over the gate.

  Cheated by her love, Narra’s face changed, the soft

  skin of her lizard face curled, crumbled and turned to

  a look of animalistic rage.

  “Deceive me!” she roared. Her powerful wings

  pushed from the ground, taking her into the skies.

  “You will never be mine!” she roared. She flew low

  over the field, bowling them to the ground. She too

  called to the old gods, but her language was ancient.

  The echoing words of, “Thebelo, Kassor,” rang in the

  air. The land stood silent. Narra flew over the

  mountains, away from the impending doom.

  Confused, the fey began to look to each other for

  answers. Artnou stood terrified as he watched Narra

  disappear. Alder had no idea what was happening as

  he looked to the carnage surrounding them, it all

  seemed to be for nothing. But then, as Artnou looked

  to the treeline to the west, he could see a movement

  through the distant lands. The land came to life as an

  unseen force rumbled towards them, tearing trees

  from the ground, it grew stronger. Cracking and

  swaying trees began to fall in the old woods

  surrounding them, the ground began to tremble. The

  Earth was waking, Cammbour was coming for them.

  Artnou spun in the field, he thought of Narra’s

  words, he knew those words. Holding his hands to his

  head he tried his best to think. All the knowledge of

  Rome but still he could not find those words, insanity

  fell on his face as he thought. The world began to turn

  to chaos as they stood in the field. Unable to run - the

  mountains of Mourne in the east began to crumble -

  the disorder of the land began to consume them.

  “Take them all,” Artnou said to himself in

  trepidation. His eyes widened, he shouted to Alder,

  “Take them all!”

  The fear in Artnou’s eyes terrified Alder. Alder

  panicked; he knew that Narra’s words spelt death for

  them all. The rumbling world around them made it

  difficult to stand. Oceans and seas became swirling

  pools of rage and fury. Forests and woodlands began

  to crumble and fall. Mountains came to life as their

  rocks and mighty boulders plummeted to the ground

  below. The earth began to open swallowing towns and

  villages. The gate had never been opened to an entire

  world, but as the two worlds collided it swept the fey to

  Cammbour, peace loving man were taken with them,

  but Narra’s words took them all, the Atlanti, the most

  hateful and despicable of man, arrived in Cammbour.

  As the earth calmed, the disarray around them was

  gone. The dead were no longer there. The trees were

  green and new, the grass was fresh, the scorches were

  gone. The mountains stood strong. They had arrived

  in Cammbour.

  The Atlanti were greedy, their thirst for blood was

  unquenchable. Their need for power, unstoppable.

  Hate fuelled them, fear entertained them, and now the

  world of man, and the world of the fey would forever

  be bound, in a need to survive the hate and terror of

  the Atlanti.

  Narra was never seen again in Cammbour, her star

  was lost to her, her soul was gone; it now belonged to

  Artnou, he held the key, the power to divide. The

  dragons were powerless to return to the world of

  Earth. Queen of the skies, ruler of dragons, had been

  deceived, she had given the power of the dragons to

  man. Her words to the old gods, they were the words

 
that began the world of war. Crowned as their hero,

  Artnou stood proud among his people. He had saved

  them from the Roman fury, but he and Alder knew

  that a new war was about to begin. They soon set

  about organising their new world.

  The customs of Cammbour were adopted well by

  the new arrivals. The yearly chart differed greatly to

  the one they were used to, but they soon began using

  the new yearly chart of Cammbour. A month became

  a turn, their chart was now based on the phases of the

  new moons, Saed, Dieredh, Fruma, Duir, Onmidden,

  Nean, Greendia, Aenlic, Wic, Ciele, Langan and

  Seooer were the new moons and turns, but every so

  often another moon would be added, they called her

  Dara. Each new moon would be celebrated with a

  feast, welcoming the new turn to Cammbour.

  Peace was born in Cammbour. The peoples were

  sure to work with their new arrivals. They had not

  known such great organisation before, but they knew

  they needed it. All the peoples of Cammbour worked

  hard to get the world in order, before the Atlanti could

  take hold. The mabeara enjoyed their new

  companions. Men and fey worked well together,

  however, settlements were needed, kingdoms soon

  began to grow from the rocks of Cammbour. The

  world they had left behind was soon forgotten.

  The mabeara took the kingdom of Elmoor in the

  North. A mighty stone city was dedicated to the might

  of the mabeara. The stone workers, the changers of

  the lands, they harnessed the mountains and shook

  the world. Their might and power was felt and seen

  across Cammbour, great stone towers were built from

  the stones of Ashdel in Elmoor, the industry the

  mabeara had created, with help of organisation, would

  see the world grow, from simple farms, to towering

  temples, palaces and mighty stone buildings of both

  peace and power. Their art was harnessing the power

  of stone.

  The far western world was given to the ancient

  tribes of Amerius, Sadaq and Qasar. The tribes of the

  west were mostly peaceful, having only ever had small

  tribal disputes, but their methods were brutal when

  provoked. The western lands were well known for

  their salt works, the lands had taken to a natural

  industry, wood, wool and cotton were their main

  trades.

  The warm lands of Arktos over the ocean were