Worlds of the Never: A book with Dragons, Faeries and Elves, mixed with Science Fiction and Time Travel, for Young Adults and Teens. (Tales of the Neverwar 2)

by CJ Rutherford

  They had been friends for decades, but Kore knew exactly how to aggravate Filumé’s volatile nature. Granted, he normally did so to attenuate his own vociferous personality, believing if he could make his friend appear more unruly than he was, then his parents, the Dwelvish rulers of this mountain Kingdom, might forgive his frequent indiscretions.

  All thoughts of others were dim memories, however, as Filumé struggled down the steep tunnel. At the base of this passage was a deep pool of melted glacier water, at the base of which lay something unique among the peaks of this world. The descent was proving more difficult than he could ever have imagined. The feeling of oppression in the air made it feel as if he was walking through treacle. It took over two hours, and at the end he was utterly exhausted, but the prize was a short distance away now, revealed by the glow coming from the darkness ahead. Something, however, was wrong. The color was unexpected.

  The prize he’d been dared to obtain, was one of the crystals which formed at the base of the pool, but the hue coming from up ahead wasn’t the blue he’d expected. Instead, an angry red light illuminated the cavern as he stepped out of the tunnel.

  The crystals at the base of the pool could barely be made out through the roiling waters. The heat came off it in waves, and Filumé wondered how he hadn’t felt it on the way down. The cavern was an oven and sweat began to run down his face.

  Too late, he realized something was horribly wrong. He tried to turn back toward the mouth of the tunnel, but his gaze was locked onto the glow, and the swirling form within. The waters swam back and forth, distorting the outline, but there was no mistaking what lay at the bottom of the pool. The round shape glowed with an inner fire, outlining the winged form within its shell.

  The dragon stretched the membrane and broke the shell, swimming out into the boiling water, flashing it into steam. The flesh on Filumé’s face blistered and his lungs scorched as the steam assaulted him, but as he succumbed to the shock and pain, about to lapse into unconsciousness, an awareness awoke at the back of his mind. Gentle at first, it arose with a strength and purpose to meet the approaching danger. A genetic code unraveled, and a power grew within Filumé, even as the red dragon, the first of its kind, arose from the pool. The beast towered over him, but Filumé stood his ground. Indeed, the power emanating from him caused the dragon to pause. It was a beast of dark magic, formed by a hatred which was growing on this world. Filumé could not allow it purchase. It was an abomination to all things natural, so Filumé, or the awareness within him, struck out.

  Ice formed at his core and he raised his arms, palms outward toward the blazing form, which struggled to gain its freedom from the water. The surface of the pool froze over, briefly trapping the hindquarters of the dragon in the depths of the pool.

  Reeling its head back over its shoulders, the beast belched fire, melting the frozen surface, but it was too late. The power within Filumé had activated the crystals, which the dragon and its master had mistakenly taken for jewels dragons needed for incubation.

  Steam battled frost, as the two beings fought for survival, but the fire within the dragon decreased, as slowly but inexorably the heat was absorbed by the blue stones which it stood on. The beast screamed in pain and fury, struggling in vain to free itself. By now the ice had reached its front claws, and its final act of defiance was to breathe its last fire toward its enemy. The fire flooded over him, but Filumé felt nothing except the passage of a cool breeze. Mist formed around him and filled the cavern.

  The presence within Filumé was even now withdrawing, back into the hiding place it emerged from. As if awakening from a dream, he started to shiver. Ice was everywhere, hanging down like teeth from the roof of the cavern, and the pool was now a solid rink. The dragon was a transparent giant before him.

  Filumé collapsed, exhausted, onto a nearby rock, taking in his surroundings as if for the first time.

  What am I? he thought.

  The voice within spoke in a whisper, as it faded into memory, You are hope, my son.

  Chapter Thirty

  Escape

  Tenybris dreamt. The visions he endured during the eon’s long madness of his imprisonment were unlike these journeys. Those were glimpses into the depths of insanity, jumbled memories of thousands of systems, destroyed or enslaved by his forces. This freak occurrence allowed his unconscious mind to cross over the barrier of the dungeon, into the Never.

  He’d wandered the void for eons, before discovering and consuming the single most innocent soul he had ever seen. This soul now resided in his Beast, animated by the little magic remaining to him. It was twisted, perverted beyond recognition by Tenybris’s depraved will. It was evil, blacker than the deepest pit of hell, but within it lived the last spark of brightest innocence. The soul of an unborn child. Tenybris allowed her to live, so she would suffer as she witnessed the acts of her host, helpless to intervene, but unable to shut it out.

  He smiled as he dreamed, but something tugged at the edge of his consciousness. He felt his mind slip into the Never for the first time since regaining his sanity, such as it was. The riot of color and chaos assaulted his mind, as he became fully aware of his surroundings.

  How is this possible? he thought. His blackened soul lay imprisoned within the fortress he created millennia before, but yet his conscious mind was here, fully aware.

  He saw, or rather, sensed the tear in the fabric of the Never. A keyhole in space time opened before him, and he peered through to see a magnificent sight. A translucent egg rested in a bed of blue jewels, at the bottom of a crystal clear pool. He reached out, sensing its restful contentedness, sneering in contempt. This mind was empty, not yet old enough to accept the strength of a dragon’s soul, and besides, there were no dragon’s souls anywhere on this world. Tenybris’s unconscious mind raced with these newfound possibilities. Even though only a sliver was visible through the tear, Tenybris knew this was the elusive Veiled Lands. And if he could see this, it meant the Veil spell was weakening. At last the magic would return. Plans and plots flew through his mind, but he pushed them to the back of his thoughts. They were things for the future, he had a task more pressing, here and now.

  There was no way of knowing how long he had here, before his mind returned to his prison, so he projected his mind through the rip, touching the unborn egg, triggering its incubation. The jewels it lay in would help, but as he probed the dragon, it resisted. Though no soul was present, the instinctive animal was still within. Tenybris grasped this awakening will and stoked it to anger. Fury arose, deep within the egg, as the creature embraced its instinctive desire to kill. It shifted from a silver sheen of tranquility, to a deep angry red.

  The rift began to close and Tenybris withdrew his diseased touch, as he awoke in his chamber. He knew the dream was real. The Veil was weakening, and he had witnessed the awakening of a new species of dragon. One without a soul, without any will, except to kill and destroy. An army of such creatures would serve him well in the upcoming battle.

  All he needed, was more eggs.

  Chapter Thirty One

  The Dragon Prophecy

  Kore's short legs struggled to keep up with his lofty friend's long strides. By the time he reached the enormous door at the end of the passageway, Filumé was already entering the chamber beyond.

  Kore left the door to close on its perfectly geared hinges, and rushed to close with Filumé. If they could present a united front, then perhaps the punishment would not be quite as severe as had been promised. Perhaps, but doubtful, he thought, as he saw the expression on his father's face.

  Their footfalls echoed as they approached the raised dais which held the two thrones. A smaller chair was beside them, where Filumé's mother, Lynnaria sat, as granite featured as the King and Queen of the Dwelves.

  The hall was huge, supported by pillars over twenty feet thick which disappeared into the darkness, hundreds of feet above. Shaped from the solid living rock of the mountain, veins of gold and other precious metals ran like wat
erfalls from above to splash on the polished rock floor. The patterns flowed across the cavern, like a vast pond, glistening in the illumination from dozens of diamond lanterns, suspended magically throughout the room.

  Kore arrived at Filumé's side just as he began to speak. “You cannot do this.” His friend’s voice was steady, but Kore heard the veiled anger behind the respect and love he held for his Queen and mother. “You cannot ban me from leaving Grongarth, like some sort of errant child.”

  He was about to continue, but silenced as Lynnaria fixed him with a stare perfected over centuries of dealing with her son’s stormy persona.

  “And exactly how should I treat you, Filumé? Like a grown up? Like the mature Elven Lord which someone your age should behave as?”

  Filumé wilted before the cold stare and frigid tone, but his mother was just getting started.

  “Or should I treat you like the spoilt, petulant brat you are?”

  “Mother, I can explain. If you will give me the opportunity to...”

  “The opportunity to make another excuse, you mean?” She stood and walked the short distance down the steps, until she was eye to eye with her son. Her bright blue eyes bored into his matching ones.

  Filumé broke contact bowing his head. His golden hair came forward to hide his face.

  “Your father would be ashamed,” she whispered, just loud enough for Kore to hear. He shifted uncomfortably, instantly regretting his movement as Lynnaria turned to face him. Her gaze drew his own eyes up into an unbreakable stare. Though this woman before him was slender and beautiful, Kore trembled as her stare caused his insides to freeze.

  “I will leave you for your own parents to deal with, Kore. Do not, however think I will ever forget your part in this debacle.”

  She returned her stare to Filumé. “What did you think you were doing? Never mind the foolhardiness of climbing the mountain alone, but were you unaware of the warnings spoken to us? The Darkness has returned to the mountains, Filumé. How do you think I might be feeling now, if I was gazing down at your lifeless corpse?”

  Filumé shoulders slumped, any thoughts of defiance broken upon the storm of his mother's anger and disappointment. Anger he had faced scores of times, but the shame he felt now was a new sensation, and his face flushed as he looked down at his hands.

  “I'm...sorry, Mother. I know you don't believe me, but I never expected to encounter a dragon in the cave...I...Kore bet me I couldn't retrieve one of the blue crystals…”

  He broke off as the color drained from his mother’s face. Gasps of alarm echoed around the cavern. Lynnaria’s eyes grew wide, and she came close and grabbed her son’s upper arms, all signs of disappointment and anger replaced by worry and alarm.

  “A dragon? There was a dragon in the crystal pool?” Her voice was quiet, but audible to all the people on the dais. “Filumé, are you certain? You have never seen one before; you were born long after they left this world.”

  The Eldar gave birth rarely, perhaps one child every half century, and the gestation period was measured in centuries. Filumé had been born almost 700 years after the Veil had fallen.

  His brows drew together in confusion as he replied, “I am certain. Mother, I have seen paintings of all the dragons of old. Does a portrait of your old friend, Glyran, not hang in your chambers? This one was unlike any in the paintings, I will admit, but it was definitely DragonKind.”

  His mother looked back over her shoulder, exchanging a cryptic glance with Bordrin, her friend, and King of these people she had grown to love, since her self-imposed exile over a century before. Kranna, his wife, reached across the short distance between the thrones to grasp his hand.

  Bordrin leaned forward, fixing Filumé with a granite stare. “How? How was this creature different, Filumé?”

  “It was red, Sire.”

  Utter silence descended on the hall. Filumé searched the assembled faces, hoping to glean some clue to explain the feeling of dread. Finally, his mother turned to him, releasing the grip which tightened like a vice on his arms.

  It was Bordrin, however, who spoke. “Court is convened for today, my people. We have much to discuss, which will be better suited to a smaller audience.” He rose, bowing to his wife as he took her hand. The King and Queen walked to the left, through the door to their private antechamber. Lynnaria, Filumé and Kore followed, along with a small number of Bordrin’s closest advisors. All of them were silent and grim as they took their seats around a large table, waiting for the servants to finish laying the refreshments before them. When they were alone, Lynnaria turned to Filumé.

  “Tell us what happened, my son. Leave nothing unsaid, for you may have seen a sign kept secret since before the Veil fell.”

  Filumé looked quizzically around the room, “You mean the prophecy? The one my father left on Sanctuary, which foretells the coming of a savior who will unite the universe to finally destroy Tenybris? Mother I have read the texts dozens of times, but nowhere does it mention a red dragon.”

  Lynnaria exchanged another glance with Bordrin, who nodded gravely.

  “There is another prophecy, my son,” she said. “One given by your father to the Dwelven King, Brandic, Bordrin’s great, great grandfather.” She turned to the King. “Bordrin, would you like to continue?”

  Bordrin took a long swallow from a frosted crystal tankard, wiping the froth from his beard with the back of his hand in true Dwelvish fashion.

  “The prophecy was trusted to my forefathers by your father for a reason, Filumé,” he said. “The other prophecy, which everyone knows, is no doubt true; but it leaves one detail unsaid.”

  Filumé’s eyes lit up. “You mean, when the Veil will fall, and we will re-enter the universe again?”

  Bordrin’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Filumé, before his booming laughter filled the room. “You must be your father’s son, boy, to fathom this in such a short time.” He crossed to the back of Filumé’s chair and clasped his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

  “Yes, you are correct. Our prophecy was given to us, because Dwelves can keep a secret. Even now, after thousands of years, only we now present in this room are even aware of it.” He nodded to Lynnaria, “And your mother is the only non Dwelf ever to know of its existence.”

  Lynnaria took her son’s hand. “Did you not wonder why we came here, to this mountain Kingdom, Filumé?” When her son returned her question with a look of confusion she continued. “I came here at the behest of a dream. Your father appeared to me and said I was to travel here, that the time would soon come which had been foretold. At the time, I was unaware of the dragon prophecy, but I trusted your father, even in a dream.”

  Filumé’s eyes widened, “So the dragon I saw was the sign foretelling the fall of the Veil?”

  Bordrin shook his head. “No, but it signifies the beginning of the final battle against the Darkness of this world. It cannot be allowed to regain purchase outside the Veil spell, or Tenybris will again have his greatest ally at his side. Or so he thinks.”

  Kore leaned forward. “Forgive me for my interruption, father, but what ally do you talk of? We have been taught how Tenybris fell into evil and destroyed this world. Are you saying he was somehow, assisted in this horrendous act?”

  Bordrin smiled, grimly. “Not assisted, at least not in a physical sense. The magic at the core of this world can exist in two states. Good or evil.”

  He walked to the head of the table, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned to face them.

  “By our actions, we influence the core. For millennia, all was good and light; until the first war, when your kind attempted to use the dragons as their tools of war.” Bordrin glanced at Lynnaria, who bowed her head. “The Lands were almost lost to the Darkness, and the universe itself was soon to follow.” His temper flared briefly, before his self control banished it. He turned to Filumé.

  “Your grandfather halted the war, and defeated the Darkness; or so we all thought. Centuries passed; good years, where
your father made this world great among the stars. Then Tenybris fell in love with your mother.”

  Filumé’s mouth opened and he shook his head in denial, but his mother’s expression revealed the truth. The Dwelven King snorted.

  “Your mother was unaware, as were most of your people, but Olumé knew, as did my forefather. Brandic pleaded with Olumé to slay Tenybris, to prevent the evil spreading, but your father loved his friend too much.

  Olumé tried for decades to turn Tenybris’s love for Lynnaria into friendship, but his desire grew and grew.”

  Bordrin looked at the ground. “None of us suspected the Darkness was within him, even then, twisting his thoughts.” He raised his eyes to stare straight at Filumé.

  “You see, what started out as friendship, was twisted into infatuation and lust by the evil we thought banished. Tenybris was used as a tool, to extend its influence and feed energy back to the pit.”

  Filumé’s expression mirrored the others around the table. What they were witness to now, was knowledge passed down by succession.

  “The pit is the heart of evil, a den of despair that leeches hope and light. During the first war it grew, its influence threatening to overcome the good of this world, until it was defeated when the war ended. Unfortunately it was only diminished, not destroyed, as we hoped.

  “It lay in wait for a soul to corrupt, and it found it in Tenybris.”

  Filumé looked incredulously around the table, watching the faces for any sign of doubt, but there were none.

  “Are you telling me Tenybris was innocent? That he wasn’t responsible for the deaths of millions, trillions of beings?”

  His mother sighed. “No, my child. In the beginning, when I first met him, he was as we are; a being of hope and light. But slowly the shadow took him, and twisted him to its purpose. This was when he truly became evil, when the two forces started to feed off each other and grow so strong. Remember, it was only when the Veil fell, and Tenybris and the Darkness were separated, that we were able to drive it out of the Glade, and out to the fringes of the wilderness. But we were never strong enough to defeat it. Just to keep it at bay until the time came.”