Dragonstone

Dragonstone

By Andrew Bruce Fisk © March 2013

The dirt covered his hands and face. His mother would not be happy with him. It was here somewhere. He had to find it. He always seemed to be looking for thing that others had mislaid. This time it was his eldest sister who had sought him out, asking him to look for her brooch. She was meeting her man later. She had high hopes of marrying into a highborn family. It could end the poverty that had been their life in the little cottage by the shores of the Sea of Light.

The muddle of five wasted lives filled the tiny storeroom. It was dark. With no illumination he grew lazy. He knew it was forbidden but soon he would have other tasks to do. There was always so little time.

The ‘sight’ took hold of him. Wisps of colour entered his grey world. The hidden secrets of his relatives whispered out to him. Elanemuir eb Danowin entered the dream.

Later he returned to the living chamber where his sisters sheltered. The fire was burning low. Without a glance at the the others ‘Lani’ ventured outside to hunt for driftwood. The air was by the waterside. He drew in swift breaths, calming his still startled mind from the invasion of the previous moments.

It had always been like this.

They had no wealth. Hunger was ever present. Father had died long ago. His life claimed by the savages that preyed on the people of the shore. Their dragon boats hounded the waves bringing terror still. One day there would be a reckoning. The boy gazes out across the sea to the west.

They circled in the dying light. Tiny specs at the end of his vision. He knew them by name. Each one called to him. Telling him of ancient times. Of lands and kings and cities. Of secrets and powers that would make the world well again.

And then the visions took him.


The sea crashed sharply against the prow of the ship. The water spray brought him back from years past. The cries of the sailors rang in his ears. warning him to stand back from the brink. He failed to heed their calls. She was out there.

His companions watched him warily from the safety of the hold. Jared of Ravenspur was their leader. His sharp eyes fixed themselves on him. Eager perhaps to have a return on his investment. Unwilling to take risks when so much was at stake. Their would be words later. Kran the Kaxor and Tracen his lover clung to each other fearful of the ocean’s might.

Elanemuir knew only about the song. It reached him still, despite the lashing of the elements against his body. He drew energy from the notes. The singer was out there somewhere and she needed them. He had wandered long years to find one like her. She was an ancient voice that drew his childhood past back to the fore. A promise for the future. He had sought her kind for all of his life and now he was so close.

Jared had commissioned him for this journey. The markets of Port Balleaxe seemed a world away. The others had agreed to join the endeavour. Adventurers on the make. There was money to be made in raiding the tombs of the ancients. It had always been the way.  They had left port bound for the western isles three weeks back. Jared had knowledge of an island. A place where the bones of creatures were interlaced with treasures of ages past. A place of opportunity. They had needed Elanemuir. His gift was precious to them.

They landed in the bay of skulls. The seaman whispered amongst themselves as their cargo alighted on the rough stoned beach. The wind had calmed with the arrival of the morning. Jared failed to share the serenity of the moment. His impatience for progress raising the ire of the waiting sailors. Elanemuir kept silent. He sensed tensions more fundamental than a nobleman’s foolishness. The others ignored him.

Kran died instantly. The sharp blow to the back of his head crushed the life from his body. Tracen screamed in terror as another attacker grabbed her by her carelessly loosened hair. A dark flurry of shapes swept across Elanemuir’s vision. They were betrayed. An assailant reached for his throat.

The magefire swept the beach robbing the treacherous sailors of any chance of escape. One remained unscorched clutching desperately to the girl’s neck. A knife pressed in. Jared laughed. The excitement of the scene overwhelming him. A sharp blade glinting in his hand.

The young thief they had found in the taverns of the port city of Balleaxe flicked her eyes from the approaching threat. She knew her life was done. The smell of fear reached them. Time stood still.

And then Elanemuir opened the dream. The hand around her neck loosened. Tracen broke free. Jared finished the the task wiping his sword against the rough cloth of the sailors jerkin. It was still early in the morning. Their was more work to do.

The noble stood apart from the others. Tracen’s features wore a mask.

“Bring him back mage!” The words cut the air with an intensity of razors.

Jared chuckled.

Tracen knelt beside the body of her lover. The Kaxor was still warm.

“Bring him back?” she whispered softly.

Elanemuir turned away.

“He does not have that power girl.  Come, we have work.” Tracen spat into the sea. The boat that had brought them rocked empty against the swell of the waves. They were alone. There was nowhere to escape from the mockery of master of the young aristocrat. She shrugged. Life was hard.

Kran was buried swiftly admit the rocks of the bay of skulls. The others were left to the crows. They left the beach, securing the fishing boat that had transported them to this place. They had no wish to linger on this spine of rock. Jared led them up a winding cliff path. Once they reached the top of a rise he turned and fixed his gaze on the others.

“Elanemuir, this is the limit of my knowledge. I need you to find ‘your lady’”

‘She is quiet. We must wait for her to awaken.’

Jared nodded his acceptance. Wordlessly they took shelter in the broken ground set back from the cliff edge. Tracen was sent to find driftwood for a fire. The mage kept watch. His mind seeking dangers. The girl returned loaded with fuel and Jared set the flame ablaze. They were alone in the desolate land.

And yet there was something else here. Or someone.

Jared referred to ‘the lady.’ A voice that had called out to them all. A source of power. An opportunity. Elanemuir knew better. There was something to be found here. Something had been lost for a very long time. Like his sister’s treasures in the cottage by the sea he would discover the secret. He would prevent its misuse.

The evening came upon them. Jared stared into the darkness. His angular features lit by the orange flicker of the fire. Tracen was quiet. Her thoughts hidden. As for the mage, the dreams were gentle tonight.  

The creatures of the island called to one another. Perhaps they sought to understand the nature of the visitors. The stars were uncovered in their glory. The gods were watching. They each took a turn at resting. The eastern skies lit slowly one colour building upon the next. The night departed and still Elanemuir had no news for them. Jared remained patient. Such was the way of magicians.  They let him wander through the rock strewn hinterland above the skull bay.

The sun bore down on his back as he walked. The heat brought memories of school lessons at the hands of the old masters in the long lost time of his youth. The voice he sought belonged to a being of immense energy and beauty. He knew the perils of dabbling with the dark arts. The gods did not look kindly on those mortals who tampered with the laws of their reality. What ever he found in this barren isle must be handled with great care.

The gulls circled the bodies of the fallen on the beach below. The abandoned fishing vessel that had borne them here was safe, grounded high above the reach of the tide. The questing waters snatched at it but were denied. Kran rested in silence.

She spoke to him then. First a whisper hinting offers. Then it was a shouting command. The melody of the dream gone. The warning was clear despite the absence of words. Their intentions were not welcome. The voice of the dream softened. The meaning shifted. The syllables of a language not spoken on this earth for millennia coalesced within his mind.

“Come to me alone.”

The last embers of the night’s flame died. Tracen realised she was alone. Looking round at the expanse of rock and moss that littered this place she could see no sign of the others. Quickly she gathered her possessions and returned to the cliffedge. The boat rocked gently in the incoming swell. It was safe. There was a way out. Her heart calmed. She made to return to the camp but something delayed her. A sensation she had not felt for so long. A warm gentle touch. She spun round knife drawn.

Deep within the heart of the Isle of Skulls Elanemuir woke from the nightmare. The dark assassins that sprung forth to steal his life vanished. He lay naked. The stone was cold. The air still and tipid. Somewhere nearby there was a light source. It flickered unnaturally. Blue to grey and then green. He sensed the presence of mage-power on a scale he had not previously encountered.

She was here.

He raised himself from the rock surface. The chamber he was trapped within had no exits. He could not recall the events that had brought him down from the world outside. His thoughts were drawn to the light source. It came from a ledge cut deep within the stone in front of him. He moved closer. His curiosity overcoming fear.

“Who are you?” He asked. He voice quiet yet the echoes reverberated throughout his mind. The light shifted in shade. It turned dark and glimmered in purples and deep emerald. She was waiting for him. That thought appeared obvious. Elanemuir made a decision. He calmed the excitement building inside and opened himself to the entity before him.

The skies of the homeworld bled darkly as the three suns rose above the horizon. He soared high into the clouds driven upwards by the force of his new body. Dark lizard like scales covered his hide and his wings spanned the heavens. He roared in triumph. He was king of the overworld. Dominator of his kind and destroyer of his foes. Mage-power flowed through his racing heart and mind. He knew the world that he had left behind well and he recognised what he had become and it made him glad.

He saw her wheeling higher still. Her body silver and gold. A vision of beauty in this savage realm. He knew she was the one. The queen he had sought for his entire mortal life span. A fitting mate for the lord of the sky.

He raced to meet her. This was their time. It was destiny.

They met in mid-air. Fire and Ice, locked together for a brief moment. The intensity of love banishing fear and anger.

And then it faded.

Elanemuir opened his eyes. He was standing in the bay of skulls, the boat rocked on the rising tide nearby. The water lapped at his feet. He was clothed.

He realised he held something in his clenched right hand. His hand glowed, lighting the skin of his fingers and palm. Mage-power flowed through his being. The world he had visited was gone.

“Give me the fire orb.”

Jared of Ravenspur approached from the direction of the cliffs. His face was unreadable. His eyes spoke a dangerous story.

The mage paused before making his reply.

“We had a deal Jared. I take the artifact under my protection and you and the others claim the reward offered by my masters. I would advise you to keep your word.”

The aristocrat smiled.

“My masters also require the orb. They do not require anything else.”

The wind picked up blowing open the lord’s cloak. A sparkle of sunlight on metal caught Elanemuirs eye. A badge with a symbol he knew. The mage cursed.

“What have you done to Tracen?”

“She lives. Unlike...”

Elanemuir knew what he faced. His power would be useless here. The being he had known as Jared of the City of Ravens could not be conquered by the lore of the living. The lordling marched to a different drum.

“So why has one such as you shown interest in this? The lifestealer has trophies plenty does he not?” Elanemuir shifted his ground putting himself between his advancing foe and the boat. He raised his left hand with the glowing ball. It radiated ruddy red. A warning perhaps?

Jared replied. Defiance radiating from his features.

“My master seeks to free the one imprisoned within. Under his control and guidance of course. She is a pretty one is she not? Her kind defy the lords of heaven.  She would obstruct my masters plans. That can not be.” Jared drew his blade level with his shoulder ready to strike. “You could not control the orb or its prisoner. She is useless to you. Give her to me and you will be spared.“

“Where is Tracen?”

The wind dropped. Jareds cloak wrapped itself around him.

“I lied.”

Whispers of conversations long past touched the edges of Elanemuir’s consciousness. A deep sense of sorrow emanated from the stone in his grasp. A deep fury mixed with the mage’s own growing sense of horror. The lady of the flames spoke to him and him alone. There was a promise and something more.

“Give it to me. I have tired of your time wasting!”

The cries of the gulls echoed in Elanemuir’s ears.  Their song brought back the memory of the life by the sea of light. The circling birds danced in the sunlight. Time slowed and for this brief moment ‘Lani’ stood alone on the shore of another sea.

The moment passed.

“I have a gift for you and your master. Catch!”

Elanemuir drew back his arm and threw the glass ball high into the air. Jared screamed in rage but could do nothing as the fire orb arched upwards through the air and shattered against the rock walls of the cliffs. The detonation ripped into the stones sending them flying apart with its force. Flame and blazing light tore across the beach smashing both mage and spectre to the ground. Splinters rained down from the shattered mess of the fishing vessel. The wind slammed into them throwing them apart.

Elanemuir recovered as swiftly as he was able. He was wounded in several places. His body hurt. He could not see Jared.

“How...?” The voice croaked from behind him. He turned to see the mangled remains of his enemy emerging from the sea. The body of the creature was wrecked and burning, water boiled and steamed off Jared’s body. This man was neither living nor dead.

Elanemuir winced in pain. And then he laughed.

“What is it like to feel alive Jared?”

“You fool!” The words hissed from the aperture that had been  a mouth. The creature lurched into motion, grasping for the throat of the mage. Elanemuir summoned the mage-fire. Its power whipped across the intervening space ripping the physical form from the being of half-life. Jared of Ravenspur was torn from the fabric of the mortal realm, his protection absent. The fires died as quickly as they had ignited. The mage colapsed, half covered by the cold waters.

He awoke later. Someone was touching his face. Kissing him?

Tracen?

The lay together on the beach that evening. The young runaway thief and the magelord. Neither spoke. Both had lost and gained too much. The evenings light glowed in the west after the sun had left the heavens. Finally Elanemuir turned to the other.

“So you returned?”

Tracen leant back against the dune where they lay. The beach was empty. The boat smoldered in the distance.

“She said you needed to get home. It is too far for us to swim.”

“You mean?”

Tracen smiled.

“She gave me her life.”

The dragons danced in the light of the dying sun. They twisted and weaved as if they had been separated by ages of mortal time. The morning would come soon and it would be time to return home. Elanemuir watched them drop below the horizon before turning to his lover. Kissing her softly on the forehead he spoke. “You will have to join your people one day.”

“I know.”

They embraced. The final rays of light left the sky. The darkness swallowed them.

“But not tonight.”