The Dragons of Sara Sara

by Robert Chalmers

  The laces, fine platters and silks were much exclaimed over but none could really afford more than small cuts of the rich materials, and only those particularly taken by the beauty of the porcelain had dared spend so much on them. The things that did get snapped up were the tools, the plain woven cloths to make work clothes and dresses and babies wear, the serviceable cooking pots and table ware. The things that had uses in daily life. The bolts of shimmering silk were left carelessly displayed on the stacked boxes at the back of the stage. It never occurred to anyone that someone could have made a dress out of such material.

  Suddenly the Trader with grand gestures drew everyone’s attention to a red lacquered box he held aloft. He placed it on a stand in the centre of the platform where he stood. A hush fell as attention centred on the intricately carved red box. Bright brass hinges on one side and a simple brass hasp on the other. With a flourish the Trader flung back the lid and lifted out a dress of the brightest yellow that anyone had ever seen. Made entirely from silk, the dress shimmered in the light as though alive. There was a fine pattern of flowers woven into the length of the dress. Tiny white flowers no bigger than a babies fingernail. As the Trader lifted the dress clear of the box and held it up on a specially designed hanger, it could be seen in its entirety. It was full length and shaped like a sheath that wrapped partially around the body. It was fastened at the side, in a wrap around effect across the bodice to fasten on the shoulder, and had a high collar that would come almost half way up the neck.

  The colour was so bright it hurt the eyes but no one could look away. Nothing like it had ever been seen. It would only fit a young woman. Probably no more than the size of a girl; but there it was and every man in the gathering had stopped breathing as they pictured their wife or daughter or girl friend in the dress, parading on Year Day or at Betrothal. Such a person would hold their own with the nobles from far off cities in such a dress.

  With a flourish of deft hands the Trader had the beautiful silk dress back in the lacquered box.

  A sigh went up from the crowd as people realized that the dress was never for them. It was so eye catching, but where could it be worn in this small village? Not a person in the district except perhaps the innkeeper could afford such finery. The innkeeper’s wife had sampled too much of her own cooking for it to fit her. Someone in the crowd made such a comment and earned the glares of the innkeeper. As he scowled about him there was good natured chuckling from the crowd. The Trader went back to displaying his wares. The things village people could and would buy. Sewing materials. Fancy buttons. Good serviceable working materials in browns blues and greens. Knives, stones, shears and tools of all kinds. Trading began in earnest. The locals had hides to trade. Raw tin and silver in small quantities. Even traces of gold gleaned from the rocky slopes of the Dragon Spine Mountains far across the plains. Sometimes men went hunting there, and in the evenings would pass the time in the small streams searching under stones for the glittering specks. Occasionally someone would have a silver coin. Most often coppers though. Small round coins with a square hole stamped in the middle. These coins had been in circulation forever it seemed. There was some indication that they had been passed down from a past age even. Long long ago, an exchange value had been worked out for them and had never changed. The passing soldiers of the Queen always had coppers. The officers as well. Daga Domain the innkeeper only dealt in coin with outsiders. Locals were different. If they had coin, fine. If not, then often the larder was well stocked with traded goods.

  There were also coins found in the ruins out on the plain to the south of the village. The ruins were so old that only a few stone slabs now showed above the ground. The coins, and sometimes small artefacts that worked their way to the surface were always silver. Although not coin of the realm like the copper and silver coins used in trade, they still had the value of the silver content and had their own price. The coins had a strange script on them, like brush strokes. Some resembled the coins in current use, even the script seemed familiar in places but they were different. Such finds were rare though and only one coin of gold had ever been found. It’s weight made it very valuable. It probably could have been used to purchase the entire village had it been for sale. It was the innkeeper who possessed it. He had taken his old stock of ale kegs to the huge stone slabs of the ruins, along with barrels of water to clean and scour the kegs ready for the next years batch. The water flowing from the huge stones during his labours had uncovered the coin. It had lain there glinting in the sun like a beacon. He could not believe his eyes at the time. The coin was useless though. No one he knew would be able to accept it in payment due to it’s obvious value. It could not be melted down for jewellery. Objects found in the old foundations had a mystery about them, and there was an unspoken objection to destroying them in any way. The coin now resided in a small wooden box on the shelf above the main counter of the inn.

  Daga Domain looked at the Trader. Here in front of him now was perhaps the only person capable of exchanging such a coin. If indeed the coin was valuable enough to exchange for that fabulous dress that the Trader had even now packed safely back into the wagon.

  Master Domain and his good lady wife had three children. The oldest daughter was coming up to Naming Day in some months time. Daga knew too that a certain young man in the village had been spending a lot of time in his yards and stables of late. Chopping wood, mulching out, anything to stay in sight of the inn. In the event that his eldest daughter happened across the yard, well, a few words exchanged was only polite. Neither of the young ones seemed to realize that their parents were well aware of what was really happening.

  Master Domain waited. He did not want the entire village to see him purchase the most fabulous dress he had ever set eyes on. He had seen his daughter’s face when she had watched the trader displaying the dress. He had vowed then that on the day she married, she would be in that dress.

  He knew it would be worn only the once in its life. Perhaps it would bring luck to his daughter. Her wedding day would be remembered in the village forever.

  He had to catch the eye of the Trader. No matter. The Trader would be staying indoors this night so there was plenty of time.

  The press of people with empty ale mugs brought the innkeeper out of his musings.

  "Sleeping on your feet?” Cried a friendly voice.

  “Wants to join the women to trade!” Cried another.

  “Hopes the Trader will change his gold Talon.” Cried another. That brought him back to earth with a thud. Too near the truth. Daga glared around him.

  “Ale you want, ale you shall have, and keep your coppers this night. The world changes and we will start a new accounting on the morrow I'll warrant.”

  Someone struck up a tune on a Bittern, someone joined in a song and soon there was merriment and dancing across the common, with a hub of people still around the Traders wagon.

  The Trader bargained with a pot of ale in one hand and his goods in the other. Laugh as he might it was a hard bargain he still drove.

  Trading slowed as people drifted away to join friends singing at laden tables. Everyone it seemed who could play any sort of instrument was doing so, sometimes back to back at adjoining tables. It promised to be a long night.

  Mei’An sat calmly, listening to the festivities outside. She watched Antonin and Catharina out of the corner of her eyes. They both fidgeted now as the sounds of revelry drifted in from the common. Their feet shuffled under the table as though they would take flight any moment.

  For all the noise outside the group around the table hardly breathed. Antonin could stand it no longer. His friends were out there, some unseen for weeks. His recent brush with death only a memory as he listened for familiar voices. His glances at Catharina told him she was thinking the same as he. Antonin opened his mouth to tell Mei’An that this was stupid. About to ask the point of this waiting game. His mouth stayed open as his two closest friends along with a half dozen of the Mare Altan burst into the room. The Guar
d Companion, Luan, never moved an eyelid. It was obvious he had been expecting them. Mei’An only raised a questioning eyebrow. Riadia stood. At the same time Antonin and Catharina leapt to their feet. The friends who had burst through the door slid to a stop in a confusion of questions.

  “Antonin, come join the festivities!”

  “Catharina, what do you here?”

  “Our pardon Riadia, we didn't know you were in here.”

  “Pardon Wind Reader, we did not mean…”

  Gradually quiet settled. Mei’An rose gracefully to her feet.

  “Luan,” she said. “It is done. Know these people well, for they are the ones for whom the world waits.”

  So saying, Mei’An addressed the group.

  "We awaited those who could be called by Antonin and Catharina. They are strong in The Way of the Wind, and have drawn those similarly empowered to them. We will secure the Key,” a pin dropping to the floor would have sounded loud in the room.

  “… And we leave here this night.” She added, sweeping from the room, Luan turning and following without a word.

  It was some moments before Antonin realized that he still had his mouth open. He snapped it shut with a click.

  “We leave this night?” He asked no one in particular. His voice incredulous.

  “Leave for where?” Said his friends almost in unison.

  The Mare Altan, friends of Catharina, asked no questions. Riadia was a party to their gathering so if they left on a journey this night, then so be it.

  The Mare Altan were ready on the instant for festivities or battle alike.

  Antonin’s two closest friends Gaul and Rees had been friends from the cradle.

  Gaul came from a farm adjoining Antonin’s fathers farm. Rees was from the village, and the son of the blacksmith. He was apprenticed to his father and enjoyed the work.

  Antonin was standing at his place at the table, trying to grasp the meaning of Mei’An’s statement. His friends were speechless. What was this? The festivities continued outside. Yet here they stood like stone.

  Antonin said to Riadia. “What does she mean by saying such a thing and then just walking out? No explanation at all!”

  ●Chapter 4

  Riadia sat in her place and motioned the others to sit. Which they did with all haste. One did not ignore the directions of a leader of the Mare Altan. Especially one as senior as Riadia. The respect and deference accorded Riadia by all the locals was automatic.

  “Catharina,” she said. “You should tell your friends what you saw this day out on the Star Field Plain. All of it.”

  Catharina looked at her hands folded on the table in front of her. Hands capable of launching an arrow in a heartbeat. Yet she hesitated. “Was this fear?” Thought Antonin incredulously. It must have shown on his face. He was hopeless at hiding his feelings. Catharina leapt to her feet. Her quiver of arrows caught on the chair and spilt arrows in a clatter across the floor. She had seen Antonin’s slight change of expression, and knowing him so well knew immediately what he had been thinking.

  “Had you seen what I saw, Antonin Sheep Herder, you would even now still be heading eastwards!” Catharina’s voice cracked slightly on the last words, only adding to her now towering rage. Quivering from head to foot that Antonin had even considered her afraid of something, and sure in the knowledge that she had indeed been scared out of her wits, she was shamed beyond belief.

  Spluttering and blinking Catharina resumed her seat. She picked up her spilt arrows, and glanced sheepishly at Riadia who sat waiting for her to continue.

  “The Trader had only just pulled up his team, “ she began. “I was circling out wide of his wagon. Keeping a watch.” She glanced again at Riadia. Perhaps seeking approval? Acknowledgment? Riadia didn't even blink. Catharina continued.

  “I rode back in close, when I noticed the clouds – smoke? Coming from Sara Sara. I found myself fascinated by the sight. Oily black smoke was rising straight up from the mountain. I could feel the faint vibrations coming up through my horses legs of something huge on the move deep in the earth.” Catharina paused and swallowed. She glanced around the circle of her friends.

  “I seemed to be transfixed. I wanted to move but could not.” Again she paused. Antonin and the others did not stir. This was obviously very difficult for Catharina.

  “It was in that moment, “ she continued. “That I saw the Dark Lord. He looked straight at me. His eyes were pits of fire, and his mouth as he spoke was a cavern of raging fire. His voice sounded like steel being drawn from a scabbard. He came right to me. He filled my mind and my sight. I could not move.” Catharina had begun to sound slightly hysterical, half rising from her chair. Riadia raised her hand to calm her, and Catharina sank back into her chair her face flaming. With shame or fear Antonin could not say.

  “What did he say Catharina?” Asked Antonin in a quiet voice.

  Shaking slightly, Catharina looked at each in turn.

  “He said – 'Fear for your soul you village chit. My minions have The Key to the Wheel now. When I am free this time all the world will pay. Pay dearly. I know!' – and his breath seemed to scorch me as he drew even closer, filling my sight.” Catharina looked down at herself as if expecting to see scorched clothes.

  “His last words he flung at me with a roar of fire from his mouth. 'I know the prophesies. You are nothing. You will beg me to take your soul before you are even started with your friends in the great hunt for The Key. Six village fools'. he roared at me.” Catharina swallowed hard. Her eyes downcast. Antonin and the others were on their feet. Village fools indeed. The fear of it though had their hair standing. Eyes checking windows and doors in involuntary reaction.

  “That was not all,” continued Catharina. “He ended by clutching me by the throat,” Catharina’s hands went to her throat, fending off the hands seen in her mind. “And he said as he gripped me 'You will all be mine tonight farm girl.' And he disappeared like a stone dropped into a pond. It was then that I screamed. I thought he had already taken me.”

  Catharina could not look at her friends. For a Mare Altan to admit fear was disgrace and shame she could not bear. Only the presence of Riadia held her fixed in her chair. Her five friends did not know what to say. The other Maidens did not know where to look to lessen her shame.

  Riadia watched for a moment longer.

  “Catharina, “ she said “hold up your head child. Would you let the Dark Lord take you before you have even begun the battle?” Her tone was sharp but not commanding. “There is no loss of face in being afraid of the Dark Lord. Only a fool would show no fear in being confronted by the Lord of Death. Be thankful that the Father of Fools has already betrayed his plans while he is yet still imprisoned.”

  Silence took them while each thought over Catharina’s words.

  Finally Riadia rose to her feet.

  "So you are the six who will undertake the great hunt. The Hunt for the Key. It is begun. A new age is coming. Go now and say your goodbyes. You must leave this place now. Within the hour. If you can't find family, leave messages. You must be gone – now!” Everyone jumped at the sharpness of the “now”. Six mouths hung open as they stared at Riadia.

  “NOW!” she roared. The six friends almost fell over each other in hast to get out the door. Antonin turned at the last. “Why now? Why tonight? Should we not make plans? Just because the Wind Reader…” He stopped in mid sentence as Mei’An said in a calm voice behind him.

  “Would you rather that the Soulless tore apart your village, and all in it in the search for you six?”

  Antonin swallowed. Put like that, what could he say?

  “Your horses are ready. Saddle bags packed with supplies. They are waiting in the stables. We go north now. There is no time for families. Better to leave them safe than to tarry and risk their lives.”

  It was a quiet group that headed down the passageway to the rear of the inn and out to the stable yard. The sound of the festivities could be heard clearly. It all seemed so unr
eal. The light from the distant bonfires flickering on buildings added a surreal quality to the night. None could question what had to be done. Riadia had ordered it in no uncertain terms, even if they would have questioned the Wind Readers intentions.

  It wasn't until they were softly clopping across the wooden bridge that Antonin looked back at the village. He noticed also the eyes of a raven glinting in the weak firelight as it dropped from a tree overhanging the village end of the bridge. It winged away into the night. Antonin shivered. Starlight was not enough to lose an arrow at a black target. It had disappeared almost instantly in the night sky. He said nothing to the others, trailing them across the bridge. Luan with Mei’An beside him took up the lead. Edina and Elsa the other two Mare Altan on either side of Catharina as though acting as a shield. Rees and Gaul rode abreast just behind them. Antonin brought up the rear.

  None were talking, although Rees occasionally muttered under his breath about being caught up in other’s troubles all the time. Gaul’s only comment was that he supposed they would be sleeping under the stars, especially if heading north. As far as he knew there was nothing but bare plain in that direction as far as the Dragon Spine Mountains.

  The slowly walking group, keeping noise to a minimum was a little way off the bridge when seemingly for out of nowhere they were surrounded by the Maidens of the Mare Altan. Those on the outposts. Watching for trouble.

  One stepped alongside Catharina’s horse.

  “Much honour to you, sister. To you, sister, and to you, sister.” She looked at each of the three mounted girls in turn. “Be welcome home.” She slipped away into the night to be replaced by another, and by another until it seemed the entire sept had passed through the group, now some way along the road.

  The three girls were now riding straight backed in their saddles, heads high and hair flicked back over their shoulders. Such honour had never been accorded to sisters of the sept in living memory, nor in any of the campfire stories they had heard. Catharina silently hoped they would earn the honour given them. She had seen the Dark Lord face to face and had no doubts he would try to carry out his threats.