by Melody Rose
“Suffered?” Rosalind exclaimed with widened eyes. “Not at all! This has been the best time of my life! A perma-vacation! Will you let me stay here? I’ll keep out of your hair, just stay quiet. Maybe I can even archive all the Jörmungandr Manuscripts, so your clan and all its generations can learn your history. Keep your legends alive!”
“Well…” I hesitated. As much as I would have liked to oblige, it would only be a matter of time until she was sought out by the others. Even though they wouldn’t harm her, Kalen and Harlin would pursue her relentlessly until she prepared herself to be my bride. I resolved that it would have better for both of us if we grew to understand one another organically without any outside meddling. I heaved a sigh and then fixed a saddened gaze upon her.
“I am afraid that it is not that easy, Sorceress,” I explained. “My clan has high aspirations for you, and they will not take kindly to you acting the recluse when you are meant to have a more… active role in our civilization. They may even deprive you of this library if you do not provide what they seek.”
“Oh,” she murmured flatly. “I guess it really was all too good to be true. I guess I was really stupid for getting my hopes up so much.” Rosalind looked up at me. “Speaking of, I still don’t know what you want from me. Maybe I do have some magic, but all I’ve really got going for me is the ability to create food, tools, and furniture. Good for events planning and redecorating, sure, but I don’t think that’s what your clan really had in mind.”
“No… I’m afraid it’s not, though I am reassured to learn that you haven’t wanted for anything while you were here.”
I was keenly aware that I was dashing her hopes, but a bit of my past irritation licked at my nerves. The sting of her denouncement and rejection of my hospitality buffeted me. I now realized that I had played into Rosalind’s hands and allowed her lodgings and leisure with no cost or responsibility. It was more than any clan member had ever been afforded, all due to her witchcraft. With that, I resolved that it would be my chance to return the favor. There was still time yet to guide her so that I could salvage my control.
“The Jörmungandr clan does not take kindly to idleness, even from our esteemed guests,” I explained, careful to remain composed with a measured voice. “While I wished to allow you your solitude and diversions, everyone has been inquiring about both your whereabouts and personal affairs. Further, they have been concerned about your previous conduct and how you will atone for it.”
Lady Rosalind twisted her lips, annoyed at my chiding but willing to listen. A blush rose to her cheeks at the prospect of penance, and she crossed her arms over her chest like a child enduring a lecture. Regardless, she listened without beginning a verbal duel.
What I said wasn’t entirely the truth, either. While I was very shocked and aggravated by Rosalind’s behavior, the rest of the clan found it to be comical, then mildly amusing, and finally nothing worth discussing. None of my comrades knew how much hinged upon Lady Rosalind and instead thought she was merely an exotic ally that would contribute to our battles in exchange for either protection or a share of our loot. They even expected her to be eccentric and reclusive since they’d never met a spellcaster other than our Sage, and he certainly possessed those qualities.
I was the singular dragon to be so incensed by her lack of cooperation, perhaps because I was the sole sober individual during our numerous festivities. Everyone else was so steeped with mulled wine that they didn’t have the sense to be offended on my behalf. If I could not erase this vexing night, then I could turn my clan’s focus to her value for me and our communal needs. If she could gain admiration for her abilities, I could take credit for preparing her for war. If she fell short, I would confess that we’d made a mistake and could move on to our traditional methods.
“I am not certain if you were fully aware of this or if you heeded this in the tumult of teleportation and festivities,” I continued, “but I am Jörmungandr’s Champion, and it could be… punishable by death… to defy me.”
This finally captured Rosalind’s rapt attention as she stared at me with frightened awe. I kept stony-faced to preserve my credibility.
“All is not lost, fair Sorceress,” I reassured her. “I have a strategy to safeguard you and ensure that you will be elevated in the eyes of my clan. You must listen to me so that you do not suffer condemnation.”
“I wasn’t aware of how serious this situation was or of your customs,” she stuttered. While I did not have a touch of magic myself, I could sense that her heart was fluttering with terror. “I apologize for stepping out of line considering the way your culture is. I guess… you were trying to protect me, but I didn’t realize it.”
Her humble words were a melody to me, the exact outcome I had hoped to achieve. I also thought that perhaps I could pry away the volume I had found her with since she was unhealthily smitten with it. I didn’t believe that she could concentrate on the task that I would assign her if she were hypnotized by her first discovery.
“Thank you for your understanding. They have also asked for you to return volume forty-seven of the Jörmungandr Manuscripts until such a time as they have deemed fit to hand it back to you,” I lied. “It is a precious artifact of ours, you must keep in mind, and we are all reluctant to part with it. Some even say that it was ill gotten, as it should have remained in our stronghold with us.”
Of course, no one here, perhaps except for Kalen, troubled themselves over the loss of one of the volumes because we’d never even heard of them. Our ancient predecessors were known to stockpile several collections, but we all were far more interested in howling songs of battles over our fires than keeping an inventory of aged books.
Rosalind seemed genuinely distressed, her bottom lip curling out. “Will I ever get it back? It would mean the world to me to be able to hold on to it for further study, even though I’ve read it cover to cover. Still, I’ll do what you need for me to win over your clan. By the way, do you know where the other volumes are? I’ve been here for days, and I couldn’t find all of them.”
“You are seeking all forty-seven of them? That can be arranged in time,” I responded, recalling the figure she had mentioned once. “As for their locations, the tomes can’t be found all in one place. This library is primarily for… decoration. A… retreat… and the volumes are scattered about the stronghold as they’re the property of the entire clan.” Stimulated by the gleam in her eyes, I pressed on, aware that the moment was ripe to lead her to my aims. “I will ask you to challenge yourself to concoct more than meals and libations to impress my clan, as we already take care to bring provisions during our battles.”
This did not dampen Lady Rosalind’s spirits, though I knew my next words would disappoint her.
“To increase the chances that you’ll focus, I’ll have you set up in one of our martial temples,” I revealed. “I trust that you’ll nourish yourself well during this period of meditation.”
“But why?” she demanded in a shrill voice. “This is where I’m in my element! Please let me stay so I can use all the resources available to me. I promise you that you won’t regret it.”
I wouldn’t crumble in the face of her entreaties, charming as they were. I couldn’t risk the Sorceress being lost in this labyrinth of books, left to drown in esoteric trifles. I needed her to remain on task and fulfill her mission, saving face in front of my clan so that I, too, would garner proper esteem. I would remove all flighty distractions as I needed her to rise to the occasion. I might even recognize her as worthy of a Fated Mate if she could remain disciplined and present compelling spellwork.
“I am afraid not, Sorceress.” I was careful to keep the smug satisfaction from dripping through my tone. “The entire clan is already wary of how attached you are to this place, and they are concerned that here is where your loyalties lie. You must remove yourself from it, temporarily, mind you, for them to build trust in you.”
As I saw tears varnish her eyes, I was moved to some small measure of
pity and considered how I might give her a bit of solace. So, I picked up her cherished volume, struck by the texture of cured animal flesh. It was similar to our leather armor, and I suddenly saw a flash of an imagined future, where Lady Rosalind might don our battle regalia. It was a rather cheering thought, and I found myself smiling as I offered the manuscript to Lady Rosalind.
She accepted it gracefully, sniffling and rubbing her wet eyes with her forearm. “Thank you,” the Sorceress conceded. “I really do appreciate it. What do you expect me to do in this temple without any books to learn from? Just sit in silence until inspiration strikes?”
“Not to worry, gentle spellmistress,” I soothed. “I shall take care of your needs in the interim.” I placed a hand on her slender shoulder and looked at her warmly. “Rest assured, Lady Rosalind. I will bring plenty of books for you to peruse and harvest motivation for your grand performance. It will be much safer this way, and it will cheer my clan to hear that we can collaborate in this.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what I would actually obtain for her, but if she was a Sorceress worth her salt, I was sure she could sort through the madness and make it useful. I resolved not to worry over this, and I certainly wouldn’t let any hesitation show on my face.
“Take my hand?” I asked though she must have known that there was no room for disagreement here. She nodded weakly, tucked her manuscript under her arm, then intertwined her fingers with mine. I helped her out of the chair and lead her away from the refuge she was so besotted with.
Once I had advanced to the door, I closed it with my free hand, then raised my leg. As fluidly as any other natural errand, I then delivered a fierce kick and knocked the sturdy oak door down with a single blow.
Lady Rosalind shrieked, clutching my hand rather than wringing free of me. At least that boded well.
“Will you trust me, Sorceress?” I asked politely, a strange paradox to my easeful force. “It is the scene they will be expected, and it will satiate them for a good while. My comrades will not take kindly to you holing yourself up in here again, so an open entry will prove you haven’t.”
Lady Rosalind settled her nerves with a deep sigh, then answered, “I trust you. Show me where I need to be.”
That glorious harmony of assent, yet again. I looked forward to more.
12
Rose
Although I didn’t have quite the same collection of books at my fingertips, the temple that Troy had set me up in was nothing to scoff at. My primary concern was to have time to decompress and delve into rare texts before I had to brave the rowdy crowds of warriors again, and he gave me that.
I was completely alone with stained glass depicting fabled scenes, wrought iron braziers flickering with hypnotic flames, and polished gold statues of noble dragons surrounding me. There was a stone cot with a modest but entirely comfortable mattress to sleep on, and some type of meditation pillow upholstered with scarlet silk and embroidered with glimmering dragons to sit against. All in all, I was entirely happy with the situation. After all, it was larger than my studio apartment and plenty tranquil.
For the past couple of days, Troy was the only one to drop by and break my spells of introversion, but honestly, they were welcomed. It was a nice change of pace, and I took him at his word that he was keeping his clan at bay before they performed one massive coup de grâce that I wouldn’t be able to come back from. We didn’t talk much at all, maybe because he really did want me to concentrate. Instead, he would arrive three times a day to bring trays filled with bowls of different vegetables, appetizers, meats, rice, curries, and fruit.
It was all healthy and satisfying at the same time, definitely not the humble fare I was expecting for such a spartan setting. The bowls were also arranged so that the smaller ones were in a center basket with the larger ones encircling it, creating a pretty flower pattern. I was surprised by how much of it I ate, usually devouring most of what Troy provided me. Maybe I was working up quite the appetite with all the studying. Since I was also in a garden enclosure protected by stone walls, I would also take some laps to deal with any stir craziness that hit me. In that respect, it was even better than being in a library. I’d be too afraid of toppling over books there.
Speaking of books, Troy was actually more than generous with them, though I didn’t really see any rhyme or reason to his offerings. He’d just waltz in with armfuls of books and plop them down in some random corner. When he ran out of those, assorted spots on the stone floor. I knew that I was technically supposed to leaf through them and hone my sorcery skills, but I couldn’t just leave them in this chaos. Maybe he was trying to give me the independence to find my own trademark spellwork, but it was a bit too much. I really needed to reel it in if I was going to maintain my sanity. Before I could even get to work on conjuring magic, I had to arrange the books into sensible categories.
Unfortunately, Troy had given me some ground rules before I started my hermitage in the temple. For one, he had specifically banned me from conjuring any furniture or even food. His rationale was that I needed to preserve all my “mana,” enchanted energy that his “Sage” had told him about, in order to manage a stellar performance that would blow his clan away. At least that meant that I got a small dose of daily communication with him, so this didn’t end up feeling like solitary confinement. Luckily, he was always consistent with meal service, and there were a few empty stone bookshelves where I could begin to sort the texts I was given.
After a couple of dedicated hours or so I guessed, I was able to cast a net of logic over all these books. Essentially, I invented six categories that were the easiest for me to identify. I came up with Combat, Legends, Elemental Magic, Genealogies, Healing, and Principles of Meditation. Even though Troy had some pretty weird methods, this actually shaped up to be a great selection. I still had to shelf them before I jumped in, a librarian tic I just couldn’t get rid of.
A distinct sense of pride blossomed in my heart when the books were all tucked into their proper places. I had my eleventh volume of the Jörmungandr Manuscripts opened up, maybe because of some new type of superstition. It just calmed me to have it nearby, and I told myself that it’d be great to use when I cross-referenced it with other draconic texts.
I cracked open a tome of green leather, and for about a microsecond, the sepia pages were scrawled with exotic symbols that didn’t look like any font I’d seen in my world. Even though it may have seemed alien to any human, to me, they felt familiar. A warmth ignited in my heart, and I stroked the edges of the book lovingly. A moment later, my eyes must have adjusted, or the cogs must have started to turn because I could suddenly decipher the letters.
It was really neat to be suddenly bilingual without any of the stress of taking a class or studying on my own. Everything seemed to happen so quickly here, and I was happy to adapt.
I was really fond of the Jörmungandr’s tendency to illustrate everything, their masterful artwork perfect for transporting me into their histories. It took all I had to not summon another cup of chai so I could perfectly enjoy myself. Flipping through this tome was like devouring a fairytale for adults, with intricate storylines and fast-paced action.
This particular tale was about Zielona, The Lady of the Green. Not only did she have scales that gleamed like an emerald, but she was deft and clever, able to wind through forestry to keep her clan safe or conceal herself during attacks. I was on edge following all of her adventures, glad to find that she survived every battle.
Once I finished the tome, I recalled that Zielona was referenced once in the volume I owned. Well, at least I told myself that it belonged to me. Either way, I recalled the exact page where her name was. Technically, her first name was only mentioned once. Otherwise, the phrase Królowa was used, and the translator now built into my mind told me that this meant “queen.”
Was this an aftereffect of teleporting to different dimensions or the magic I already had? I also half-way believed that just touching books uploaded their knowledge int
o me. It seemed like a pretty reductive way to explain this all away, but I didn’t have anything better at the moment.
My fingers shook with excitement as I picked up my vellum manuscript and opened it straight to the page I was looking for. What I found here about her was depressing, so much so that my arms went limp, causing the book to tilt down a bit.
While the Królowa was glowingly spoken about and credited with an array of victories, her destiny was said to rot away because of the dark magic of the Drikkende, the spirit drinkers. She even endured the trauma of losing her beloved king in battle, despite his bravery. Once she was stripped of her love, the Drikkende took the cruelties a step further. Their war-witch cast a horrible curse on the queen who was unable to resist in her weakened state.
The Królowa was not only doomed to continue the rest of her reign as a widow, refusing to take any suitors or marry any other royal, but she was also separated from the soul of her lover for centuries upon centuries. This would cause her to grow weaker with each reincarnation cycle, her utter sense of emptiness diluting her powers until she had nothing left to give her clan. Eventually, she would not even be reborn into the realm, too lost to fight with her comrades. The last line of this page hauntingly implied that her spirit might be lost in the ether, never to be found again.
My heart ached as I relived this story, as though I was grieving the death of a close friend. There was one thing that was for certain, and that was that as long as I was alive, Zielona would not be forgotten. I would put my all into paying homage to her and bringing attention to all of her incredible feats. She was an inspiration to me, and that must have meant that she would be worth the whole Jörmungandr clan celebrating once their memories were jogged. Who couldn’t resist hearing about her epic fights or mourning over her tragic ending?
