by Karen Frost
Chapter Six
Morlach
Mary Jane had been fast asleep when she stepped through the mirror, and for many hours after that the land she traveled was little more than a confused blur of pictures and sounds that imprinted on her mind only as a fog of half-remembered, impossible dreams. Her feet were bare, but she did not feel the prick of stones and twigs as she walked to bring her attention to her situation for she were carried an inch above the ground by a green mist. The mist carried her so fast that she covered long distances in only a few hours without feeling tired. Always through the haze of her dreams, a voice called to her, pulling her onwards inexorably. At times hunger and fatigue broke through her reverie, but the force compelling her north would not allow her to rest for even a moment. She forgot that 321 Baker’s Row existed, or that she had ever lived outside of Devorian. Memories of her family, of Maude and Jack and Mrs. Peters became faint visions from a past life.
When the Green Forest gave way on its northern edge to small mountains, she climbed them with a strength that was not her own, still half waking and half sleeping. Beyond the smaller mountains, the towering mountain ranges of the Far Reaches loomed. If she could have seen them, she would have seen that the outline of their white peaks against the sky was like the teeth of a giant earth-bound monster opening its mouth to swallow the sun. Mary Jane, who hated the cold, would never have chosen to go there had she not been under a witch's spell.
She could have been walking for hours or days when she heard the muted sound of giant wings flapping in the air above her. The sound snapped her out of her waking sleep for the first time since she had come through the mirror. For a moment, she stood perfectly still, trying to remember where she was and how she had gotten there. She knew from her surroundings that she must be somewhere in Devorian, but she could not understand how she had come to be there or why. The sound of the wings came closer and she looked to see what was making the sound. She shaded her eyes from the sun with her hand just as a great shadow fell upon her. She gasped. As she watched dumbstruck, a giant skeleton landed before her.
She could see what it must have been once; that is, when it was still alive and its shining white bones were covered by living flesh and blood. Its tail, long and studded with sharp ridges, was at least twenty feet long, and it curled around the monster’s feet, twitching at the tip. The creature sat on its back legs, giant wings folded tightly together onto its back. Its front legs, tucked now tightly against its rib cage, were short and ended in vicious, curved claws approximately six inches long. These were not as fearsome as the thing's skull, however, which was huge and filled with row upon row of sharp, dagger-like teeth. In the place of eyes, two brilliant rubies shone out from the sockets.
“A dragon,” Mary Jane breathed in fear and awe.
But it was not a dragon precisely. Not anymore. Now it was only the skeleton of a dragon, a memory of what had once been a huge and terrible beast. The creature looked through her with its shining, malevolent, ruby eyes and she could feel its malice rush against her like the swell of a wave crashing into the shore.
“Come,” the dragon commanded.
Its voice seemed to come from within a deep and bottomless cavern. It sounded old beyond measure, and rasped as though from lack of use.
“No,” Mary Jane said.
She was terrified. She knew that she must escape, but her body refused to move, rooted as it was to the ground in terror.
“Come,” the dragon ordered again, leaning towards her and hissing.
Its right arm reached out and a terrible claw curled in a "come hither" motion. Mary Jane thought it was a grotesque mockery of the motion that a human would make.
“Where are you taking me?” Mary Jane asked.
“To Morlach, to the witch Mirrin,” said the creature, snapping its teeth ferociously. “Now come, human child. Climb onto my back.”
“Why are you here?” Mary Jane asked. “You're…dead."
“I was the great dragon Hissarlik, scourge of the Western Plains,” the creature rumbled. “When I walked, the earth trembled beneath my feet. When I flew, my wings blocked out the light of the sun. I was the terrible, the mighty.”
The dragon moved toward her, its bones clicking with a dry snapping sound. Mary Jane fought against the waves of gloom and hate that seemed to emanate from the dragon when it spoke. The feelings were overpowering.
The dragon continued, “I have been awakened by Mirrin to fly once more and do her bidding. She holds my heartstone; so long as she keeps it, I am her servant.”
It lowered its head until its ruby eye was mere feet away from her face. When it breathed, Mary Jane could feel its hot breath. Its eye glinted, and Mary Jane noticed that a fire seemed to burn deep within it. She swallowed fearfully and took a step back.
"You are too young to have ever seen a dragon. Not even your grandfather's grandfather would have seen me, but perhaps you have heard the tales. Tales of the destruction that my kind and I can bring. Now, get on."
Mary Jane found that she could not resist the dragon’s command. On their own, her legs compelled her toward the creature. Because it was so tall and nothing more than bone, however, it would be a difficult ascent to its back. The dragon sank down on its haunches and lowered its neck so that Mary Jane could use it as a ladder by which to scramble to the place above his shoulders where she thought it might be safest to sit.
The creature’s bones were smooth beneath her hands; time had rubbed the ridges and knots from them. She stepped carefully from one bone to the next, making sure not to slip and fall. Once Mary Jane reached the spot on his back between his two great shoulder blades, Hissarlik stretched his neck to the sky and gave a long scream. It was a cry that made her gasp and want to put her hands to her ears, but she did not dare let go of the neck bones she clutched tightly. The dragon immediately launched himself into the sky with a tremendous flap of its wings. Mary Jane marveled that even though the skin that had once covered the wings was gone, the magic that had brought the dragon back to life was so powerful that it enabled Hissarlik to still fly.
Hissarlik dipped his right wing and turned in a wide circle. Under other circumstances, Mary Jane might have enjoyed the beautiful view of Devorian that riding on Hissarlik afforded her. From hundreds of feet in the air she could see for miles on every side. To the east, she saw a seemingly interminable forest of short, green trees. To the west, she saw in the distance the light green of open plains followed by a thin line of dark that probably indicated denser forest. Far to the south, she could just barely distinguish the flat yellow and brown tones of desert land, and to the north, she saw enormous, jagged mountain peaks scratching sharp, crooked claws against the pale blue sky. Hissarlik leveled his wings and flew northwards, soaring higher and higher until the cold air felt like thousands of pins pricking Mary Jane's skin. She shivered and tucked her chin against her chest.