The mage helps her raise her hatchlings for the first year of their life until they are old enough to fly off on their own. Both realize they do not want to leave the other, or rejoin the fighting between the dragons and humans, and together they begin to search for a solution.
Separately, they approach members of their own kind and begin to encourage peace between them. It takes many years, but eventually there is a group of twenty-two dragons and over a hundred humans of like-minded individuals. Finally a promising start to end the war, until the group is betrayed by one of its human members and they are set upon and nearly wiped out by a small army of mages and wizards.
The mage and his dragon friend, realizing they have no hope of winning, devise a solution out of desperation. Harnessing as much magic as he can, the mage tries to save his friends by lifting the very ground they stood upon above the fighting. But he underestimates the amount of magic it will take to accomplish such a feat, and begins to falter before the separation even begins. The dragon, however, realizes the mage’s intention, and joins her magic to his, and with combined effort, what is now known as Daegonlot begins to rise into the air.
Unbeknownst to the wizard, the effort has cost the dragon her life, which she willingly sacrifices to save his and the rest of their group. Once he realizes that he has lost his friend forever, he is overcome with grief. He amasses the very last of his magical energy, including his own life energy, to cast a final spell which will hold Daegonlot suspended indefinitely, out of the reach of the humans below.
Neither the humans below nor the now-separated group of humans and dragons on Daegonlot witnessed what caused the rising of Daegonlot, and therefore do not know how the island was created. Each clan blames the other. The bodies of the mage and his dragon friend are hidden away in a small, unknown cave, and are never found. To this day, no one knows of the sacrifice they made in their quest for peace.
Time goes on and eventually all of the dragons end up on Daegonlot, finding it easier to live out of the reach of the humans below. The Daeglonlot humans start their own village, which will come to eventually be known as Goldspine, and the dragons of Daegonlot live in peace alongside them.
How long was that jump? Drakthira asked.
“One hundred thousand years,” the stone man replied.
None of those people were dragonriders, she stated.
“No, that didn’t come for many more years, but that is another story. Your question has been answered, and you now know how Daegonlot was separated from the mainland,” he said.
How does this help me? she asked just as darkness began to close over, and she once more felt like she was spinning away.
As if from a long distance away, she heard him reply, “If you know the history of its creation, then you can shape its future.”
Chapter Four
True love is selfless. It is prepared to sacrifice.
~ Sadhu Vaswani
Drakthira opened her eyes and found herself once more back in the Grove. Dax was looking at her expectantly. Are you going to ask your question, ‘Thira? he asked.
I already have, she replied. She shared with him all that had transpired and all that she had perceived, opening up the memory for him to see, transferring everything within a matter of moments.
We will need to discuss this with Trakon. Maybe he can help us figure out how to undo the mage’s spell on Daegonlot, Dax said thoughtfully. Drakthira sent her agreement before turning back to regard the godling who, up to that point, had not spoken.
“Welcome back, Drakthira,” Aarlian said, “I hope you found the knowledge you were seeking.”
‘Thira bowed her head slightly at the godling, but remained silent.
“Pardon me,” Trakon said, leaning forward. “I know you said we could all ask a question, but, do we all have to ask it now? I mean, I don’t know yet what Drakthira asked, but perhaps we should get some time to discuss what we have learned before deciding on what to ask next?” he asked, looking around at the rest of the party for agreement.
Aarlian smiled at Trakon. “A wonderfully wise decision,” he said, rising. “Please rest here tonight. I will ensure your safety and privacy.”
After the godling left the party to themselves, Drakthira shared what she had learned with the others in the group. Daxon, since he already knew what she had discovered, set about making camp. Out of habit he began to make a fire before realizing the sun was still high in the sky and giving off more than enough warmth.
“I don’t know what this place is,” he started after ‘Thira had finished her tale, “but it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t think the sun has moved since we entered here.”
This isn’t a ‘place’ exactly. It’s different, removed from the normal course of time in some way. Here, but also not here, like it has been set atop your reality, but not anchored. I can feel the difference. It’s like I’m sitting in a deep pool of a slow-moving stream. The pool remains the same, while the stream moves through it, Drakthira explained.
Trakon, who normally would be brimming with questions over such things, remained unusually quiet. He was thinking over what ‘Thira had discovered. He, like most residents of Darkenfel, had always assumed Daegonlot had become separated from the mainland by some sort of magical means, but now knowing how it was accomplished, he had a better understanding of their task, as well as what it would take to accomplish it.
“Magic done requires the same, if not greater, amounts to undo…” he whispered to himself under his breath, remembering a lesson taught to him by his father many years ago. With magic, all things mattered. Not just the ingredients or source of the magic, but all things, even intangible things. The mage who had cast the spell to keep Daegonlot afloat had intended to sacrifice his life to save his friends, and the dragon who had given her life to help had done so willingly. Their selflessness was intangible, but would play a great part in reuniting the island with the mainland. The only way to undo it would be to find another dragon and humanoid willing to give their lives to accomplish the mission, which Trakon dismissed immediately. Even if they approached a dragonrider and his dragon and explained the situation, it wouldn’t matter. People were content with how things were and saw no need to reunite Daegonlot. Trakon didn’t blame them; on the surface all appeared fine. It was only after traversing through the Myste and hearing the Whisperwood’s warning that he understood why it had to be done.
He considered Drakthira and Daxon, but immediately dismissed that thought. Not because they might refuse; oh no, they most likely possessed the courage and determination to succeed where other dragons and their riders would fail. Aside from purely selfish reasons, including the fact that they were his friends and he wanted no harm to befall either of them, who, then, would be left to free the other dragons, including his beloved Rakisa? An old man and his giant dog? Would that even be enough?
No, he thought. They stand a better chance of freeing the dragons than I do, even with Sylas to help me.
Another way to undo it would be if the exact opposite were to happen. Suppose, for example, that there were people who wanted Daegonlot rejoined with the mainland for their own selfish reasons, such as destroying once and for all the dragons and their riders. Their fear and hatred would, in effect, cancel out the magic that made the original spell successful, the love and sacrifice. Trakon estimated the chances of this happening were even smaller than approaching another dragon and rider. Few people even remembered the dragons anymore, or the dragonriders, and, what’s more, without knowing the details of what the original mage intended, it would be too risky. Intangibles, he thought, the strength and weakness of all spells.
That left just one possibility. The spell could be reversed with a great source of power, one great enough to tear open the bindings of the original magic by sheer force rather than unraveling them with a counter-spell. This, too, was far from an ideal solution. First of all, Trakon didn’t know if such a source of power existed. Dragon magic, part of the original spell, was no easy thin
g to overcome, and what’s more, a spell cast out of love and selflessness was much harder to break than one spoken for evil reasons. Trakon suspected that Daegonlot had remained in its suspended state for so long because the magic used to put it there in the first place came from love and sacrifice rather than hatred and greed.
Trakon pushed these thoughts aside and forced himself back to the present, only to find everyone looking at him.
“Well?” Dax asked, “You’ve been muttering under your breath for some time now. What did you find out?”
Trakon shook his head. “Nothing, really,” he said, “just the ramblings of an old man.”
Daxon studied the old dragonrider for a long moment. He wasn’t convinced Trakon was telling them everything, but he trusted the old man enough to let it pass. He would tell them in time.
As if he could read Daxon’s thoughts, Trakon said, “I will need more time to think on the events of Daegonlot and how we can undo what has been done. For now, I think we should figure out what questions we want to ask, and who should ask them.”
Dax nodded his agreement. “There is the obvious; ‘how do we free the dragons’ question,” he said.
Trakon stroked his beard absently. “I’m not so sure that is the obvious question, Dax,” he said quietly.
When Daxon raised his eyebrows at him questioningly, he continued, “The question just seems too broad when you think about it, and what if there is more than one way? How would we know what is the best way?”
Very wise, Trakon, Drakthira said. She reflected on her time spent with the stone man, then said, The earth man offered me a few suggestions, almost as if he were trying to help me. Perhaps asking how to undo isn’t the right way. Perhaps it is, as with my vision of Daegonlot, better to ask how it was done.
“My thoughts exactly, young dragon,” Trakon said. “If we know how it was done, we can possibly figure out how to undo it.”
“Ok,” Daxon said, his tone thoughtful, “then one of the questions should be how Jessa got the staff.”
Trakon and Drakthira nodded agreement while Sylas simply emitted a loud snore from the dragon’s side where he was curled up asleep. Trakon chuckled at the dog, and Dax grinned.
“I’d also like to ask for the godling to make it so that Sylas never has to return to the Myste,” Dax said.
Both Trakon and Drakthira agreed, then Trakon said, “That leaves us with one more question, and, for myself, there are two that I think would be the most valuable. One, how did Jessa create the Dragon Orb? And, two, how did the Orb end up under Daegonlot? Actually, now that I think about it, perhaps a third; is Jessa still alive, and, if so, where is she?”
“Why would that help us?” Dax asked.
“Who better to know how to undo what’s been done?” Trakon asked.
“Perhaps,” Dax started, “but what makes you think she would tell us even if she were alive and we did find her?”
Trakon didn’t answer for a long time and Dax thought the old man had simply ignored his question, but finally, he said, “She wasn’t always so… bitter. Maybe part of her still isn’t.”
“That’s a big maybe,” Dax said gently, “too big to count on in my opinion.”
You two should decide what question you are going to ask and leave the rest alone. You cannot control what Sylas will do, Drakthira suggested.
Trakon barked out a short laugh. “You are quite right, ‘Thira,” he said. “All the planning in the world won’t matter when it comes to Sylas. I’m not sure how he will communicate his question, but I have been around him long enough to know I shouldn’t doubt him.”
Sylas will have no trouble asking his question. He may not communicate in a way you or Dax understand, but I understand him well enough, and I’m sure the stone man will as well.
“Well, one thing is certain. Sylas will never ask anything for himself. I will take that upon myself Dax, and leave it to you to ask what you think is best in regards to Jessa and the Dragon Orb. Hopefully, between what ‘Thira has found out, your question, and whatever Sylas asks, we will have a clear path forward,” Trakon said, yawning. He rose to go find a soft patch of grass to rest upon, leaving Dax and Drakthira alone with the snoring Sylas.
They sat in companionable silence for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Dax said, “What did they seem like, ‘Thira? The Creators?”
The young dragon thought back on her vision of the two, once more watching them grow up through a series of disjointed images show to her by the stone man.
Innocent, she said at least. At least at first, when they were children. The ebon-haired boy, my Creator, cared for the girl and seemed to want to protect her.
“And the girl?” he prodded.
She seemed to want to make something beautiful. Beautiful creations in a beautiful world. Innocent, like herself. She contained them with the mountains, as if she didn’t want to claim all of Darkenfel, but just a small portion of it. Perhaps to have room for her creations to expand in the future. She seemed distraught over leaving the last time, she finished.
“Do you think they will ever come back?” Dax asked quietly.
I have no way of knowing such things, but I think they would come back if it were possible.
“Knowing there are Creators is very… unnerving for me. I mean, I know we all think there are Creators, but more in an abstract way. Now, I have seen them through your memories. I know what they look like.”
Why is that unnerving? They had to look like something.
“Yes,” he said, “but now I also know they didn’t ‘create’ me. The Myste did. Before now, I’d not given much thought to that. But, now that I have, I realize I’m little more than a forgotten wisp of imagination created by a semi-sentient creation of the fey, the true and original inhabitants of Darkenfel. The ones rightly meant to exist. The ones truly crafted by the Creator.”
Drakthira didn’t know how to respond. She could feel the melancholy thoughts weighing heavily on her bond-mate, but nothing she could say would change Daxon’s origins. Finally, she said, Many of Darkenfel’s inhabitants were not directly ‘created’ but I don’t think that makes them less in any way. Besides, we do not know the minds of the Creators. Perhaps this is how it was supposed to happen.
Dax stretched out on the grass beside her. “Maybe so,” he said thoughtfully, before drifting off to sleep.
The small party was once more grouped around the godling in a semi-circle. “Have you thought about your questions?” Aarlian asked them.
Trakon leaned forward. “Yes, and I’d like to go next.”
“As you wish,” the godling said and closed his eyes.
After a few moments the eyes opened and were once more glowing white. “TRAKON, SON OF TREVAN, YOU ARE NOT OF THIS WORLD. WHAT MAKES YOU WORTHY TO BE A HERO OF DARKENFEL?”
Taken aback by the question, Trakon stammered, “I…I…I…I’m not sure, I…” He took a deep breath and reflected on the question. It was true, he was an outsider from another world, but Darkenfel had been his home for many years. Not only that, but it felt like his home, even more than the world to which he had been born. He had met Jessa here and fallen in love. He had experienced the friendship of a dragon and soared the skies of Darkenfel upon her back, the wind upon his face. He had met Sylas here during his darkest and loneliest hours, finding a companion and friend. Finally, he had found hope in Daxon and Drakthira, hope of finding his lost dragon friend as well as hope for the future of all dragons.
He squared his shoulders and shook off any doubts he had. “I have come to love Darkenfel as my home, even if it is not where I was originally born,” he began. “What’s more, I am committed to saving the dragons, as well as Darkenfel, but more than that, I also want to save Jessa, another outsider.” He saw Daxon’s eyes widen in surprise as he said this, but he kept going. “I would find a way for all the residents of Darkenfel to live together in peace, the dragons, humans, myself, Jessa… everyone. There has been enough bloodshed, e
nough turmoil. It’s almost destroyed this beautiful land, and I will do whatever I can to repair what has been done at the hands of humans.”
“YOUR WORDS RESONATE THROUGH THE EARTH WITH THE RING OF TRUTH, BUT KNOW THIS: RIGHT AND WRONG IS NOT ALWAYS EASILY DISCERNABLE. YOUR DEDICATION TO DARKENFEL IS ADMIRABLE, YOUR DESIRE TO SAVE YOUR LOST LOVE IS COMMENDABLE, BUT IT IS YET TO BE SEEN IF THEY CAN COEXIST. NOW, WHAT IS YOUR QUESTION?”
Trakon hesitated, pondering the godling’s words. Then, he said, “What I seek, what is most important to me, is not knowledge. I’d ask that Sylas be freed from the hold the Myste has on him, able to walk about Darkenfel freely, never having to return to the abyss.”
Trakon leaned forward to drink from the blood in the stone, but it remained closed. He looked at the godling questioningly.
The godling hadn’t moved. His eyes still glowed with white-hot brilliance, and Trakon could feel them burning into his own as the entity within Aarlian regarded him. “TRAKON OF OUTWORLD, YOU WOULD GIVE UP YOUR QUESTION FOR THIS FAVOR FOR YOUR FRIEND. ARE YOU SURE? KNOWING YOU WILL NEVER AGAIN HAVE THIS OPPORTUNITY?”
“I am sure,” Trakon said, no hesitation in his voice. “I truly believe Darkenfel is a better place with Sylas in it. He is noble, brave, and courageous. He should not have to go back to that dark place from which he escaped.”
“THE MYSTE SERVES A PURPOSE, AS DO WE ALL,” the being answered.
“A purpose Sylas is no longer suited for,” Trakon replied smoothly. “When I inadvertently changed him he was freed from the hunger that drives the creatures of the Myste. Not only that, he was shown a different way, and embraced it fully, no longer uncaring and removed, Sylas cares greatly for others and no longer has the desire to kill.”
Minutes passed and the godling remained silent. The others simply waited, also not speaking, to hear what the final decision would be. Finally, he said, “I CANNOT CHANGE WHAT SYLAS IS. HE WILL ALWAYS BE A CREATION OF THE MYSTE’S MAGIC. I CAN, HOWEVER, IMBUE MY OWN LIFE-MAGIC INTO THE TETHER HOLDING HIM TO THE MYSTE SO HE WOULD NOT HAVE TO RETURN, HOWEVER, I HAVE NOT YET DECIDED THAT IS APPROPRIATE. YOU CAN EITHER ASK A DIFFERENT QUESTION, OR I WILL MAKE MY DECISION AFTER I HEAR SYLAS’ QUESTION. DECIDE.”
The Godling Staff_Book Three Page 5