by S. J. Wist
Sybl did as told and ducked under his arm as he was tall enough to do just that, and looked about the large room and its light-brown, stone walls that were covered in weapons.
“So did you happen to have the true story to Cinderella?”
“Um... I don’t think it ever was a true story.”
“Really?” Lintrance replied disappointed, as he put down the sword on a beaten wood table and picked up another. “I always like that one.”
“What part?”
“The part where she lives happily ever after, of course. Why do you think she ran away from Heaven?”
“If you mean the ball she had to, or everyone would have found out who she was.”
“Well, this is where you humans become complicated.” Lintrance began to oil the short sword. “I could never understand what it is you seek when you have it already. It’s almost as if your god cuts the Threads of reasoning to your minds, only to set you back out into the chaos of trying to find your place in the world again. In all my years of studying humans, I’m still no closer to understanding why.”
“You sound like my second-last foster home. Shut up, stay still and just maybe the world won’t see you for who you truly are.”
“Just what are you running away from? No one is perfect. Your foster homes were anything but fun, but they served a purpose as well. Children left to fend for themselves on Aster don’t last very long. There is no system here aside from luck.”
“Do you have any kids?”
“I did, once. A baby girl.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s just say the only thing that could happen, as I had my heart stolen by a mermaid.”
“That’s like the oldest story in the book...no offense.”
Lintrance smiled as he thought quietly back to his better days and lifted the sword before him, checking for any nicks in the steel.
“What happened to her?”
“Her mother took her away to the deeper reaches of the ocean. I haven’t seen her since, and while dragons command the skies, we can only reach so far into the deeper parts of the Eternal Waters.”
“I’m sure you will see them both again, one day.”
“Your optimism is inspiring,” Lintrance replied, without sarcasm. “Daorans are much simpler in thinking when it comes to happy endings, but they lack the stories that come with your world and your women.”
“Cecil mentioned a Serena earlier. Was she human as well?”
“She was.”
“How did she come here?”
“That is a very long story that starts on the other Continent. She started a search for her friend on Earth, and that led her to the Gates that are controlled by the Atrum.” He raised his hand to the nearest wall, and his Ancient vanished. A tight tangle of vines began to grow from it and across the room, before forming what looked like a snowman caught in the wrong season, in the center of the armory. When it had finished forming, the re-petaled daisy climbed up it and sat neatly on its head like a hat.
Sybl remembered when the demon had attacked her at the pond and the vines that had dragged it back and scared it off. “You were the one to save me?”
“Cirrus saved you, I simply found you after he had taken the beating of his life in doing so.”
“I owe you a thanks then.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Princess.”
Sybl walked around the bush as she studied its magic, trying to find the reasoning to how it worked, before it suddenly twitched and sent her with a jump back. “You call me a Princess and yet I feel like a mouse to the mercy of dragons and their creations.” The Leafman waved back and forth like a punching bag, taunting her to strike it.
“That’s your own fault for having too much energy to settle down in one spot for long.”
“I blame your water for that. And this tail,” Sybl added as she looked for his Ancient, only to find it no longer was near the wall. Instead, it looked down at her from the ceiling with its orange eyes. Fear of its new size set her to a sit to make more distance from it.
“An Ancient is an extension of one’s being. It’s like an extra set of senses.”
“And teeth?”
“When we somn, yes. From what the Texts teach us, we wake from sleep in our human forms or souls, so the first ones were the Ancients who carried us. Then they continue to watch us until we pass the Trial of Somn, where we then have the strength to host them from ourselves. We also give them a solid existence outside of their spirit forms, and we can utilize their abilities with the Threads. It’s a give and take kind of relationship.”
“Why do the Ancients do this?”
“Because just as we are vulnerable in our human-like forms, they are vulnerable in their spirit ones as there is always a bigger and more dangerous Ancient or Eminor. Hence why they are never far away and as we protect our children, we also protect their still-separate spirits with those who have passed the Trial.”
“So do you actually change shape?”
“When we somn, or fall into sleep,” Lintrance said as he crossed his right leg over the other, “we switch places with our Ancients, and they awaken and become the flesh, us the spirits. When we unsomn, or wake up, we become flesh and blood again, and they become the spirits. It’s all a manipulation of the Great Dragon’s Animus Thread that leads to his one mind and dreaming state. But we don’t ever actually lose consciousness, as it’s impossible to manipulate our Ancient to do what we need it to that way.”
“Why?”
“They don’t see the world as we do and I can only assume that’s because they are connected to Aragmoth in a way we are not. My Ancient there for instance sees you as...” Lintrance paused as he looked up to see just that from his own extension of his eyes. “A very bright blue light.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I can make of it.”
“What if it doesn’t let you see what’s going on?”
“If it takes control like that, it has to force your soul and sight completely unconscious, and it goes berserk. Nine out of ten incidents you have to be killed.”
“So you never really sleep?”
“If sleep is a time to rejuvenate some strength and refresh one’s thoughts and so forth, then every time we somn we are doing just that. Humans sleep a lot differently.”
“But how do you dream then?”
“Dreamwalking is forbidden as it’s very dangerous to split our psis from our bodies that kind of distance. It leaves both our Ancient and soul vulnerable.”
“Where does my psi go when I dream?”
“Where does it go?” Lintrance asked curiously.
Sybl stopped to think on it. “I don’t know. I forget after I wake up.”
“But not all the time. Like how you remembered my tampering with the story of Cinderella. Humans don’t have an anchor like our Ancients, and I can only assume that once you return to your mind, you can’t decipher all that you saw while you were Dreaming without one. So your mind simply forgets it as useless information. But enough talk, time for some practice. There is your target, now choose your weapon.”
Sybl blinked at the Leafman, before looking around the room at the countless choices. She went for her first choice, which was a powerful-looking broadsword. But it was too heavy to lift. “Okay something smaller,” she said as she started to follow the wall. Sybl pulled off a short sword from the wall, before setting her sights on a wave-shaped staff, that held half-moon blades in its opposite curves. She put the short sword back and pulled down the staff.
“A Caelestis’ choice for a Princess.”
“What is it?”
“We call it a festra. Now if you can hit the Leafman over there, I’ll let you keep it.”
Sybl looked over the beautiful weapon as if she had been handed the most awesome thing ever, as she made out the carved details along its wood and crystal handle. It was almost as long as her but weighed next to nothing. “I just have to hit it?”
&nbs
p; “Yes.”
She took a firm grip of its center handle in her right hand and walked over to the target. “Alright time to meet your,” she took a swipe at it, but just as she did, the vined-tail lowered in a duck, “maker?” She swiped at it again, this time with weapon in her left hand and once again, it dodged. “How in blazes can something that big move this fast? It’s rigged!” she said in frustration and looked back at the dragoon who seemed entertained by her effort from where he sat on the bench. When she looked up, the Ancient hid its head of the giant size it had expanded to in the ceiling overhead, leaving her imagination to guess that it too was laughing it out in a higher room.
“You’re doing fine. You should be able to wear it out by winter at your current rate.” Lintrance laughed, unable not to anymore.
“I don’t suppose I can just put it in the fridge or freezer to cool it slower?”
He shook his head. “If you want to make it into this Snowman you’re thinking of, that could prove difficult as we don’t have winter anymore than we do rain or snow. We don’t have seasons or changes in weather unless the Great Dragon breathes it on us.”
“What happens when he gets angry?”
“He hasn’t been for the last three hundred years since the Aur storms tore the one Continent of Aster into three.”
“After the Last War, right?”
“Good to see Cirrus actually listened to some of my teachings.”
Sybl took another shot for the Leafman, but the tail of his Ancient simply lifted to dodge the attack.
Deciding to try a different approach, she walked back over to Lintrance and swung the festra at him. He raised his arms in defense, but mid-strike she turned and hurled the weapon at the bush like a boomerang. It effectively beheaded the Leafman with its force. “Woot! You see that?” Sybl said as she pointed at her victory. “That’s what we call mad skillz on Earth.”
Lintrance rubbed his neck to check if it were still attached. “Nice distraction for my Ancient. I must be getting old.”
Sybl picked up the festra that had hit the other wall after going through the target, then looked at the daisy as it reattached the Leafman’s head by weaving the vines through it like a sewing needle. Then it completed it as its hat once again. “How long do dragons live for?”
“It depends on our blood line usually. A descendant of Moon can easily go strong for a couple hundred years or more, whereas one of Solar averages at about a hundred and fifty.”
“What bloodline is Cirrus of? Or you for that matter, as you’re his cousin right?”
“Moon, but for Cirrus I wouldn’t give him a month if you weren’t here to settle him down a bit.”
“I heard that,” Cirrus said as he opened the armory’s door and entered the room.
“Good,” Lintrance replied as he looked his way. “Why did you leave her alone like that? Sybl was lost in this maze of a mountain while you were out looking for mermaids!”
Cirrus only dropped his head in futility.
17: SLAVE
“She is a slave belonging to the Atrum’s Order, and it would be best to give her back,” Kayla said as she sat next to her mother, High Priestess Yri, in the Room of Reflections.
“I have never seen an entire Pack take specific interest in retrieving a human slave girl like this,” Tynar replied to Kayla, from where the Headmaster sat on the other side of the table. “Granted Jasper’s Pack has always been sympathetic to humans, but if she is a slave then she’s a valuable one to want her back so desperately. And has anyone seen Dyaus?”
“The General is not feeling well,” Lintrance quickly replied from the wall he leaned on, which was his own polite way of saying the old dragoon was too drunk to participate in the meeting. Dragons didn’t get sick.
“Has anyone bothered to look if she is branded?” Trista asked from next to Tynar.
“She’s not a slave,” Lintrance added.
“I don’t see the harm in checking,” Kayla said.
“I don’t want anyone touching her. She is frightened enough,” the dragoon replied plainly to his sister. Kayla returned a sharpened gaze of cold, grey eyes that she had inherited from her different mother.
“Well, as long as Jasper’s Pack continues to stalk this mountain, I’m more concerned about our kind being frightened,” Tynar replied, as his bright-red hair frizzed higher on his head. “The True can’t fly, and it’s the only reason they haven’t tried something more drastic in retrieving her.”
“If the phelan Pack continues to be a problem, then I will see to it that they’re dealt with. No one touches her.”
“You seem overly protective of this human stranger. Is there something you’re not sharing with the rest of us, Lintrance?” Tynar inquired.
He looked to Cecil to see if the dragoon would make the next move against him. When the blind dragoon didn’t, he looked back at the Headmaster. “No, but she has had a troubled life on Earth. Aside from my sympathy for her, I am adopting her as my own.”
The Elders whispered loudly between each other.
“That’s out of the question, particularly as we know nothing about her or her past. She could just as easily be a spy sent from the Atrum,” Tynar said.
“I wasn’t asking, and if you believe her to be a spy then your accusation falls on me. If you would like to test it further I won’t be far away,” Lintrance said, before turning and leaving the Room of Reflections.
Tynar sent his orange eyes towards his Bond, before setting them sternly on his son. “Just what was that all about?”
Cecil only melted further into his chair, as he was now alone against all the stress the room had ignited into.
Lintrance headed upstairs and went to the General’s room. He quietly opened the door and closed it behind him. The old, dark-green haired dragoon slept in his equally old and beaten wooden chair. The bottle of whisky Lintrance had set for him to find was tipped over and empty next to him. He had been saving it for an emergency and it ultimately worked in saving the Princess.
“Yikes, what did you do to our uncle?” Loki asked in concern as he peeked into the room.
“You be quiet and mind your own business,” Lintrance replied in a harsh whisper as he picked up the bottle and handed it to his younger brother. “Melt this.”
Loki did as told, as Lintrance’s concern went to where Dyaus’ somn was as it wasn’t in the room.
On having reformed the glass with his aeri fire into a statue of what he remembered Serena looking like, Loki turned it around in his hand to ensure it was accurate. “Can I meet her? Or is she off limits to me too?”
“When she has had more of a chance to grow accustomed to what we look like, maybe,” Lintrance replied as he inferred to the green birth markings on Loki’s face.
Loki only got a gentle carrying grip on the statue and left the room without saying anything to counter.
Lintrance looked back at the General one more time, before leaving to find where Dyaus’ fire breather of an Ancient had wandered off to. Before someone else might.
18: DREAMING FOR TWO
Cirrus calmed down somewhat with the Elder meeting being over downstairs. He escorted Sybl to her room for the night and went inside first. As Lintrance’s psi touched his that his uncle’s Ancient was on the loose, he felt like he was under attack from every room. He looked to Sybl as she set her new festra on her dresser. “I wonder if your trick would work twice on the old dragoon.” If anything, Cirrus wanted a shot at Lintrance for unleashing such a dangerous, unaccounted for detail by his plan.
“It was a lucky shot,” Sybl said humbly and went into the other room. She got dressed into her nightclothes, and then came back to go to bed.
“You’re also the only one to strike him on your first try. Personally, I wanted the broadsword.”
“That thing was way too heavy, but I guess being able to manipulate air would it lighter for you?”
“If he ever lets me touch it. I swear he keeps it right there on the wall to remi
nd me of the fact I didn’t best him on my first try.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Fifteen years ago when I was little taller than the sword, just like you.”
Sybl smiled at what her imagination guessed him to look like as a teenager, before he fixed it with his psi to what he really looked like. “You were so scrawny...”
“I know... Embarrassing when your last chance at seeing otherwise says the same thing everyone else has.”