by Lisa Lowell
Two weeks later Mohan and Owailion flew away from the lush jungle forest under Tamaar's influence. They left behind the starts of another palace, this one themed for the ocean, with aquariums and mother of pearl in the planning. He had enjoyed yet another dream, escorted by the lovely Queen of Rivers who had remained shrouded and elusive, walking him through this palace as well. While it felt nice to begin – and be able to continue the palace at Paleone simultaneously – building at Tamaar with no further answers disturbed him.
Owailion also had learned how to create a shield, at least in theory. He could defend a wide area, almost as large as the palaces would be, but nowhere big enough to encompass the entire Land. That was still beyond his abilities, and might be forever unless he could combine with the other Wise Ones. Tamaar didn't have the patience with him and he did not have the capacity to study more under her tutelage so they gave up. Perhaps the yearning to meet the Queen of Rivers distracted him too much so he and Mohan left Tamaar's territory just as fall was descending.
Now, just outside Tamaar's seal Owailion faced a dilemma; go up the wide river he now encountered or keep following the coastline. Traveling into empty mountains - Mohan's definition of dragon-free– that lined the coast, did not appeal and so Owailion decided to follow the river, filling in the map rather than the perimeter of the Land. If he trusted his instincts – which he did not- something waited for him up this river.
They had flown only a few strokes up the river when Owailion asked Mohan to stop. The glorious river valley, deep and rolling, with the rising sun glancing off the water spoke to him and he felt the now familiar itch of another palace. They landed just where the water spread into the channel and into the northern tip of the delta. There Owailion found an island in the middle of the wide flow, calling to him.
“How many of these palaces can you do at any one time?” Mohan asked as Owailion began stripping down to swim over to the island. He wanted to inspect the island where the dragon probably would not fit. The deep river valley with the steep slopes were forested more naturally than Tamaar's magically maintained jungle, and tickled at a lost memory from his old life.
“I have no idea,” Owailion replied. He had regularly checked in on his two projects so far and noted that Paleone had reached the stage of walls of white marble lifting into the sky and Tamaar's foundation had not been excavated quite yet.
“What are you doing?” Mohan asked curiously as Owailion dove in.
Apparently Owailion felt at home in the water as if he swam all the time in his old life. “Swimming of course. What's the name of this river?” he asked as he climbed ashore.
“We dragons call it Laranimilirinilolar, but you might call it the Lara,” Mohan replied.
“Lara, the river and I'll call the palace Lolar,” Owailion called to him. “Shall we stay the night here to wait inspiration?”
“I am hungry again,” Mohan admitted sheepishly. “At this rate, I'll get fat. Is this normal?”
Owailion chuckled but didn't speculate as Mohan launched himself into the sky for his customary 'while dreaming' meal. Then, when the valley had fallen into shadow, Owailion lay down in his bedroll to go to sleep, anticipating a dream about what he should build on this island.
To his surprise the dream did not start here along the river, or on this island. Instead he was walking on the banks of Lake Ameloni again, where the conclave met. However, snow blanketed the diamonds on the shoreline although he could still hear their crunching. The volcano was lost in the low clouds that added to the ankle deep snow. Owailion looked down the shoreline and finally saw her, the Queen of Rivers. He reached his hand out toward her, expecting to be shown a new palace to build, but he was wrong.
She wore the thin veil of silver and gold, with an elegant gown embroidered with more of the silver on gray silk and chilly blue. Like the frozen lake beyond them, she did not move. Instead she simply looked at him and he could almost make out her features through the gauze and patterns of the veil. Her alabaster hands were cool, even through his gloves and the moment he realized this, he looked down to realize he too had changed into the glorious regalia he wore in the truth spell.
His dream-self began to speak words he knew he should say. “I, Owailion, before God and this conclave, do take you…”
Then Owailion awoke.
He gasped, sitting up in the dark. No moon and only a few stars filled the night sky in the river valley and he could see nothing in the shadows of the hills. Owailion shivered miserably. He knew nothing of the mansion he must build here, and felt empty, useless. Owailion yearned to touch her and see her face. He felt some kind of compulsion but unlike the itch prompting him to build the palaces, he could not scratch this. Loneliness descended on him like a great weight.
“She is meant to be your mate,” Mohan's unexpected commentary interrupted Owailion's thoughts.
The human looked up again into the night sky, wondering if the dragon had returned from his feeding early.
“No, I just heard the alarm in your mind and thought you might like to talk about it. You have never been more….agitated. Remember, God promised you more because humans don't do well on their own. So why would she not be your mate?”
Owailion put his hands over his eyes, trying to press the distracting after-images of burning light out of his mind. He could not concentrate with that alluring shape seared into his thoughts. “I don't know. Usually we get to select our mates, not have them selected for us. It's just so…I have too much in my head right now. Maybe three palaces are too much…but this one, thinking of her…it's very distracting.”
A draconic chuckle filled Owailion's mind. “You sound like me the first time I met Tamaar. This Queen of Rivers is your mate. Now you just have to find her.”
“Uggg, I can't think about that right now. I'm supposed to be learning magic, battling sorcerers and building palaces, not thinking about…about a girl. It turns my mind all…I'm confused. Why would God show this to me when I'm supposed to be doing so many other things. I don't need this distraction.”
“Of course you do. No one, even a dragon, can do as much magic as you are doing and not have a distraction.” Mohan declared.
“I start a palace and walk away,” Owailion protested. “I've not fought any demons yet.”
“You will. Demons will come and the invaders now know you are here too. I do not want to think about what will happen when they discover you are alone here in the Land and the dragons have fallen asleep. You cannot be the only one protecting our borders. She will come before we go to sleep, I think. Besides, I bet she was beautiful, for a human.”
Owailion let out one quavering breath, trying to regain his bearings again and then admitted that Mohan probably was right. “She was more than beautiful. I've never….well I assume I've never met another of her like.”
“Then let me give you something else to think about,” Mohan suggested. “This is a puzzle.” The dragon then plopped a rock in Owailion's lap, as if he conjured it.
“A puzzle?” Owailion echoed. “Oh, this is what Tamaar gave you to train me.” Should he be surprised or worried by the lump of stone about the size of his fist that he now had to heft up and examine as if it were precious? It made him think of what a cat would bring, some dead mouse it had played with for too long and now had dropped it before her master on proud display. See what I've given you?
“Ummm, thank you?” Owailion said aloud, hoping Mohan would not understand the awkward comparison.
“I do not know what a mouse is,” Mohan shattered that hope, “but I have given you a puzzle with which to work some magic. This will keep your mind off the pretty lady. You can work with it and then when you discover how to deal with it, share it with me.”
“Are you going to grow sleepy if I stay here a while and work on this?” Owailion wondered warily.
“There are other things I could do while you work at it. You can call me when you are ready.”
Owailion watched his friend lift
off into the air. Barely aloft and free from the close set trees, the gleaming dragon disappeared in a flash, leaving the early morning sky empty. Heavy with thought, the human returned to his bed, and the puzzle rock that Mohan had left behind.
With no other occupation Owailion reluctantly applied his mind the simple rock. With magic he could sense it contained copper, tin and simple silicates. Bronze, he remembered could be crafted with copper and tin. This must have been something he was trained in, not incidental knowledge. Was he some kind of smith in his prior life? Puzzle indeed.
Gradually the rock shifted in his mind's eye, coming alive, like a pill bug finally unrolling once the fear of being touched had eased. It writhed and unfolded. Owailion resisted the urge to open his eyes and see if the rock truly was shifting. If he looked, the stone would undoubtedly look exactly as it had the first time he had touched it. Unexpectedly he remembered the demon cat that Mohan had shown him that had sprouted wings and flown away.
Owailion's eyes flashed open, unsure and alarmed now. No, his imagination was getting the better of him. He looked at the simple ore and shuddered. He could not blow fire like a dragon but something in this rock was going demon. The only way he could think of erasing this unease was to make something of it before it came alive; some hard-cased centipede crawling over him in the night. Owailion dropped the puzzle stone onto his bed and couldn't help but rub his hands against his knees to brush away that disturbing thought.
Very well, he would use what he knew. His magic reached out and felt its way through the innards of the stone, separating copper from tin and other trace elements. When he opened his eyes he saw three different powders in neat little piles on the blanket he sat upon. Owailion reached out and felt the materials, sensing none of the potential life writhing through them. He felt only purpose with no lingering intent. So what would he do with the minerals?
Again he thought of bronze, and that decided him. He conjured a simple wooden bowl in which to mix the powdered copper and tin. He didn't feel a need to fire up a kiln or melt them down in order to form something. Indeed, the elements followed his magical command to come together and solidify. Powder became solid alloy without forms or heat. They pressed into the same shape as the wood within which they had been placed. Then for beauty's sake, Owailion's mind etched a decoration around the delicate base; reeds and lilies from the bank of the river up the side of the pottery. He then simply tipped the bronze bowl out of the wooden one and he had a charming little dish that fit perfectly in his hand without the fuss of a forge. It glowed in the golden sun, but as he watched, the age of years descended and it grew green with patina.
Somehow he liked it more just for the greening. It fit the river environs and oddly enough made him recall his dream of the lady. She had been silver, gold over river green, fresh and new and all the other things this bowl made him imagine. The river would always pass by and be new, never the same, flowing from a never-ending source. He knew now that this dish he had crafted would be magical too somehow. And it would be hers – her Talisman.
Then he remembered his first dream, where God had given him duties…and shown him the stolen stones of Zema. He had seen that part of the dream through a little bowl. He had just created that very magical bowl. He would not use fire to stop things warping into demons; he would change them into the Talismans that God had asked of him.
Owailion eagerly carried the vessel to the water's edge and filled it. He wanted to test out this new creation. He then held it high so he could see the reflection of the sky, and waited for something to appear on the surface. When nothing appeared he sensed a moment of doubt. Why have a magical bowl with no power in it? Then his own magical gifts reminded him of something; he needed to wish for something. Owailion closed his eyes in concentration. He knew what he wanted to see, yearned for it in his mind. Show me the coming of the Queen of Rivers.
Obedient to his command, the surface of the still water changed. The sun changed angle to reflect sunset, and a soft breeze stirred the trees, but little else altered. The river valley visible in the Talisman's reflection remained virtually the same. Then the gentle flow of the reflected passing water stirred, as if a fish had breached and left a single ripple ring. The sun off the water blinded him briefly. Then her head rose out of the water.
Owailion gasped, and the reflection shattered as he dropped the bowl. She was coming right here, right now. In a panic, he conjured a simple box and put the bowl inside it burying it right there on the shore line, down below the sand, deep in the mud so none but a magician could retrieve it. He knew the Queen of Rivers would find it later. Meanwhile, he had to prepare.
Chapter 8 – Raimi
“This is the place. This is where she is going to arrive. Can you feel it?” Owailion shouted in excitement as Mohan settled on the far bank, called by his human's announcement.
“The Queen of Rivers is coming here? I do not sense her. Before your coming the tension was great…and the humming to welcome…”
“Humming?” But Owailion did not pay attention. Instead he looked out at the still, deep water and realized he was not going to see her until all was calm; the water, the air, the birds and most of all, his heart. The scene was not set for her yet. With a thump Owailion sat on the bank, with Mohan on the other side of the trees, but well able to see from his enormous height above.
“No, in the bowl's vision, it was so peaceful.”
“Then that makes this a human experience. I think that my presence will not help this event. She will come if I leave.”
Owailion didn't want to tell Mohan that his great golden head popping above the trees would probably mar the anticipated arrival, for he knew how much the dragon would be interested in witnessing it, but there was nothing like pure terror at your 'birth'. Also, part of Owailion's mind recognized this needed to be utterly private. He himself was struggling to calm his breathing and center himself, letting go of his anticipation.
“This could take a long time. Besides, I know she comes when you are gone. You were not in the bowl's vision. Do not be hurt, but I do not think this is a thing for dragons.”
“I am not offended. She is your mate. This is her time with you. Call me when you are ready to travel on.” Mohan then lifted away and disappeared.
Meanwhile Owailion sat in the sun, anxiously analyzing the sound of water birds wading around the bend, and the gentle wind rustling through the drying branches of late summer. He could hear the swifter water upstream, crashing over cataracts and plunging into the deep, clear flow right in front of him. That remained placid and utterly still.
Then he realized he had been camping for weeks and really should try a little grooming and take his hygiene in hand. After all, he might be meeting his future wife in a few hours and the thought made him cringe. Rather than disturb the peaceful river Owailion conjured a full tub already warm and steaming and washed thoroughly for the first time since his hatching. He shaved and for the first time actually looked at himself in a conjured mirror. Perhaps he had forgotten his appearance along with his real name and his past, but he did not recall having snow white hair and eyes as dark as coal. It was disturbing to look at a stranger's face.
Awkwardly he made a sad attempt at trimming his hair with a conjured set of scissors. The results, did not reassure. In the end he simply magic-ed his hair cut neatly and although he was sorely tempted to change its color, he left it white. He was a magician after all, and maybe that was a sign of his new talents. Finally he conjured himself new clothes, of finer quality and fit than the rugged leather and linen he wore with Mohan, simply because he did indeed feel like he was going to meet the woman of his dreams and he wanted it to go well.
And still the sun crept across the sky and the water never changed. Eventually he sat on a blanket on the beach and drifted off to sleep in the gentle wind. How long he slept, he could not tell, but something in the air changed and it woke him. The sun came from his right, low and burning. He squinted against the bright light o
n the water and remembered how he had been hypnotized by the light in the bowl. The sun must be low and the air almost frozen with tension, waiting for a single ring in the water. The smell of the river, rich and musty with life, echoed a forgotten memory.
A single ring rippled out from the center of the deep water.
Exactly how he had seen, her head rose out of the water, coppery and completely in silhouette. Owailion's breathing stopped as he watched her rise, gracefully patient. Somehow he rose to his feet, watching her, but didn't recognize he had done so. Her lithe figure, perfectly formed remained below the sinking sunlight, and then began walking toward him. Each footstep crafted a single ring on the surface. Owailion resisted the urge to reach out when her arm lifted. Instead he conjured a gray satin robe for her without consciously doing so.
And the moment her foot touched earth and not water he was able to see her face. Her eyes reflected the sky; a coppery gold outlining brilliant green. She smiled and her sweet mouth melted a hollow in his stomach that he didn't remember being there. She lowered her head, just now noticing how she was not dressed and he slipped the robe over her bare shoulders before she could blush.
“Welcome,” he managed to whisper, hoping his voice didn't shatter the spell of her arrival. “I am Owailion.” Was it a lie? He had no other name to give himself, and he was not blocked as he might have been with a lie.
Her bashful glance was instantly charming when she whispered, “Raimi.”
Owailion almost gasped. Her voice ran like cool water down his back as he felt his mouth pop open. She remembered? He had not even considered what name to give her, assuming she would come with no memories of her former life like he had, but for some reason God had sent Raimi to the Land with at least that memory intact. Owailion could not think of how to ask what she did remember. He found it hard to bring his mind around to logical lines with her expectant and bright eyes looking at him that way.