Mythia: and the Awakened Beast

by Margie Mandell

  Ten hesitated, moonlight reflecting against his bald, dark head. He hunched over and slid between the narrow walkway through the mountains. Mythia followed, carefully treading along the rocky floor. It was difficult to see where they were placing their feet in the dark. They walked silently between the mountains until the moon and the sun exchanged places. It was a clear morning. Hawks squawked in the crisp air, the sound of their wings flapping overhead.

  “Where are we going?” Mythia asked after hours of hiking west through the mountain trail without any exchange of words. They weren’t going up in elevation, they appeared to be traveling a different path than Mythia was used to, through the mountains instead of the forests.

  “You’ll soon see,” Ten answered in his deep voice without glancing back. Mythia watched as his sword swung back and forth from his belt with each step until they finally reached the end of the mountain ridge and broke out into a field. The grass here was tall and dry. It went on endlessly to the west until it reached-

  “A volcano…” Mythia said thoughtfully. The volcano of Draconis loomed in the horizon. She suddenly found herself grasping the edge of the volcano- her legs dangling over rumbling lava. Glancing behind her, she realized her father had gone. Her father. Lord Animus. He had been swallowed up and burned alive. A dragon’s death. She gasped as she opened her eyes to find herself standing back in the dry grasslands, Ten staring at her from ahead. She clutched at the dragon sheath hanging to her belt.

  “What are you doing?” He had dropped his tough demeanor.

  Mythia shook her head, realizing she was standing still with her mouth hanging open. “I lost my father in the volcano. When it erupted.”

  Ten lowered his eyes. “Many of us lost people to the eruption. Families. Friends.” He glanced back at the volcano, seemingly harmless from so far away. “I lost some people too.”

  Mythia started following him through the tall grass, pushing her way through. “Did you come from Draconis seeking refuge from the eruption?” He nodded. “Has it been rebuilt yet?”

  “They started… You’ll see.”

  Mythia stopped in her tracks again. “We’re not actually going into the city, are we?”

  Ten stopped again and sighed. “Yes, we’re going there. It’s part of the training you missed. Is that a problem?” He glared down at her, swelling in his great height. Mythia shrank away, lost for words. They continued walking again, but a growing sense of fear was overcoming her, that she could not explain. Something bad was going to happen if she showed her face there. But what? And why?

  ◆◆◆

  Titus threw the itchy wool blanket off. He pushed himself up, stretching his strong arms over his head. He kicked dirt onto the dying embers of their campfire, and snatched up his things, stuffing them unceremoniously into his pack. The Doctrine was still asleep, breathing deeply. He waited for a while, listening to the woods around them waking up with the morning sun and forest creatures before growing bored. The ground was wet with dew, so he scooped some up, molded it into small balls, and placed them gingerly on the Doctrine’s hands, cheeks, and chest. He put a small pile on the floor surrounding him. He sat there for a moment admiring his work before placing his fingers in his mouth and blowing out a loud, piercing whistle.

  The Doctrine shot straight up, rubbing his eyes, smearing the mud all over his face. He slowly lowered his hands and looked at them in disgust.

  “What is this?” he yelled. Noticing the brown balls scattered all around him, his shot up to his feet and flung his arms out, dancing from one foot to the other. Titus roared with laughter, tears falling down his face. “This isn’t funny, Titus!” The Doctrine spit mud from his mouth. “Feces are full of bacteria! I could get a serious infection; why would a wild animal choose to defecate on me?” Titus clutched onto his stomach, laughing so hard that tears spilled down his face, as the Doctrine frantically ripped yellow leaves from the nearest tree and began rubbing it all over.

  Titus threw his water canteen at him. “Here, use this. But do not fear, my friend. You aren’t covered in feces.” He wiped a tear from his eye.

  The Doctrine stopped himself mid-pour, his eyes snapping on Titus. “What?”

  “It’s just mud. No harm done.” Titus smiled, revealing a full set of white teeth. The Doctrine threw the canteen as hard as he could, hitting Titus smack in the center of his forehead. “Ow!” He rubbed his head where the canteen hit, a red welt growing rapidly. “Guess I deserved that.” Titus opened the canteen and took a long drink. Sighing, the Doctrine wiped himself off with his wool blanket and gathered up his things.

  ◆◆◆

  It was late afternoon by the time they reached the entrance to Draconis. Tall black iron gates surrounded the whole city. Ten placed his hands on the bars and pulled himself up, easily lifting his great, bulky body.

  “Really?” Mythia huffed. She held tightly to the vertical bars, biting her lip, and stepped onto the first horizontal bar. With a grunt, she pulled herself up to the next one, but after that all the horizontal bars had run out and the gate was at least twenty feet high. She glanced up at Ten, who was already sitting at the very top of the gate, watching her.

  “Hang on,” he muttered. He climbed swiftly back down and grabbed onto her hand. She was impressed by the way he used one hand to climb, and one hand to pull her up. Mythia grunted and pulled, wrapping her arm and legs around the bars and using every ounce of her strength. With his guidance, they both made it to the top.

  “Thanks,” she shrugged. He looked at her a bit sheepishly, before turning around to slide down to the opposite side. Mythia followed. She landed hard on her feet, the jolt ripping through her body.

  The last time Mythia had seen the city, she was running from exploding lava. But the red had gone and been replaced by gray. Everything was covered in ash. The stone houses, paths, marketplace- all of it was a crumble of lifeless ash. Pieces of rubble blew in the breeze, the very air thick with dust.

  “What exactly are we supposed to do here?” Mythia whispered. She could just make out the towering statue of the dragon, with its great wings and height, one of the only things that appeared to be unharmed in the eruption.

  “Collect diamonds without anyone noticing.” Ten looked down at her and for the first time, Mythia did not see any burliness. He looked sad.

  “You mean steal?”

  Ten sighed, squinting through the dusty air. “Eldrid said, that just because parts of the kingdom have been claimed by a king, doesn’t mean we can’t claim them back.” He scratched his chin. “I’m not sure I agree with that.”

  “That’s because it’s wrong. It’s stealing, no matter how you word it. Why do the Rejicio think they owned the land before the king?”

  “Don’t you know? I thought you were Rejicio…” he asked slowly. His eyes narrowed.

  “No, I was alone before this. I joined to…” Why had she joined? She couldn’t remember now.

  A rustling from the crumbling buildings caught their attention. Peeking eyes behind the ruins, round and blue amongst the endless gray, a raised hand, with its palm open. Then-

  A blast of fire in their direction. Ten pushed Mythia out of the way, the fire just grazing his chainmail. Mythia collected herself and instinctively fought back with a blast of wind- the ash and dust thickening the air and pushing the attacker away. The sound of shouting echoed around the thick, gray air. They could see nothing.

  They ran around the edge of the gate, away from the oncoming screams. But after minutes the thick ashy air was filling their lungs and they could hardly see more than a foot in front of them.

  Coughing, Ten gasped for breath. “I guess wind isn’t the best element to use here, right now.” He smiled sideways at Mythia. She felt her lungs burn and spat out the ash filling her mouth.

  “We need to get out of here, forget about the training,” Mythia said earnestly.

  “But how? We can’t see anything in this…”

  Mythia closed her eyes and focu
sed. It came to her like a sixth sense. The path ahead formed in her mind. “Follow me.” Ten followed her without hesitation through the gray clouds. They wound around the disturbed city and found themselves in front of the dragon statue, still miraculously unscathed.

  Mythia looked into its face, its lips pulled over pointy teeth in a menacing snarl. The black wings spread out wide, as though it were ready to take flight.

  Amongst the chaos, beside this stranger named Ten, the waking beast within her shook. She clutched at her heart, the beating magnifying suddenly by a thousand. Pressure filled her chest, her heart was now beating so dangerously fast she knew she could not survive it. Her muscles filled and contracted, starting with her shoulders, her biceps, and through her fingertips. Her legs swelled, filling with a heaviness and strength she never had. Her brown eyes widened. She looked up at the dragon, its eyes looking back at her.

  “Bestia?” Ten gasped. He watched her change before his eyes, but she did not flinch at her alias’s name.

  “I am not Bestia,” she replied. Her voice reverberated in the thick air. She closed her eyes and was still for a moment, until-

  Her eyes snapped open- no longer brown but scarlet as though filled with blood. She stared deep into the dragon’s eyes.

  “Bestia, what are you doing?!” Ten yelled nervously. He was shaking with fear. “Stop it… whatever you’re doing… stop it!” He tried to grab onto her, but as soon as he placed his hands on her shoulders, he was flung away and thrown onto the ground by an invisible force.

  She took in a deep breath, her voice a voracious roar, trembling with each syllable as the thing inside of her took over. “O DRACO MAGNE, EXCITARE!” Mythia stood with her arms spread out, crimson eyes staring hungrily up at the giant statue. A wisp of opal smoke released from her opened mouth in the shape of the dragon, spread its wings, and flew into the statue’s mouth. The great wings shook- the stone that formed it trembling, as tiny pieces of rock slid off from it like an avalanche.

  The stone tumbled and crashed down to the gray floor in a cloud of dust. Uncovering something black and scaly beneath.

  The dragon’s slanted black eyes blinked. Its mouth pulled farther back into a snarl, as it leaned forward and shook out its wings.

  The Dragon had awakened.

  11. THE DRAGON

  Ten’s eyes stretched wide, his chest rising up and down quickly, as he watched his fellow recruit turn slowly back from a red eyed beast into her stunning human form, as the great Dragon let out a thunderous roar. The ground shook from the vibrations.

  The Dragon’s wings began to flap, clearing away the thick debris and lifting up the gray haze again. Just as the vision cleared, dozens of Draconis citizens came rushing over, palms thrown out, spears held high. Mythia grabbed Ten by the chainmail and pulled him over to the Dragon.

  “Are you crazy?!” he screamed, watching her small hand grasp his uniform with a surprising strength.

  “We need to ride him out of here,” she jerked her head toward the Dragon.

  “No way, no way!” Ten argued. Screams and shouts came closer, along with a fresh wave of fire blasting from the angry citizens.

  “It’s the queen! Get her!” one of them yelled with a fantastic wave of hot, flame. Ten shot a curious look at his recruit, who was now fearlessly pulling herself up on the Dragon who squatted down for them to climb aboard. Ten took one final glance at the swelling crowd, just as a blast of fire came his way, and ran over to the Dragon, hopping on quickly behind Mythia.

  It was like freshly carved knives pulled from a blazing flame had dug into his leg. That’s how it felt, when the fire hit his right thigh. He wacked at his black leggings, trying desperately to extinguish the flames. The Dragon stretched out its enormous wings, the Draconis citizens backing up quickly in alarm. Mythia looked over at Ten, who was now moaning in pain, and held her palm out to his leg.

  “No, no, no,” he shuddered, trying to smack her hand away. She gave him an incredulous look before a globe of floating water, glowing with a white light, shot from her palm and landed gently on his thigh. The flames went out in a sizzle of smoke, the pain nearly diminished. She turned back around just as the great Dragon shot up into the air, its wings beating heavily beneath them. Ten did not hesitate before grabbing tightly around Mythia’s waist before he could get thrown off from such a great height.

  The city of Draconis quickly grew smaller and smaller, the volcano no larger than a stone, as they flew up into the afternoon sky and through a tuft of white, fluffy clouds.

  ◆◆◆

  The two men pulled their hoods over their faces as they sidled between the trees. It was difficult to walk silently, amongst the dry, dead leaves. They glanced around a thick maple tree, at a group of bounty hunters trudging loudly down the dirty path, overly confident, and apparently drunk.

  Titus’s brown eyes peeked out from beneath his hood, at the Doctrine, who’s mouth was clenched with worry. “Looks like they came from Trigonus and are heading toward Fenniks,” Titus mentioned quietly. The bounty hunters were being so loud however, he doubted they would hear him.

  “If only the prince was with us. His very presence made these sort of journeys far less complicated.” The Doctrine watched the bounty hunters for a moment before continuing. “I have a plan.” He waited until the group of mismatched, dirty chainmail men had passed far enough, and slid out from behind the tree. Titus followed him closely as they trailed behind them without anyone taking any notice.

  The bounty hunters were passing around a jug of some type of alcohol, its strong scent wafting through the air, and pulling out pouches of coins. Two of them lingered slightly behind, making it easy for Titus and the Doctrine to overhear their conversation. One was a particularly dirty looking bounty hunter who was so filthy it was impossible to distinguish the color of his hair or skin. He emptied out a pile of gold into his open palm, crusted with dirt and mud.

  “I bet you two gold pieces the prince takes the prize,” he smirked.

  The other one, slightly cleaner with a thick beard that grew down past his voluminous belly, pulled out three coins from his own leather pouch. “I’ll take that bet, raise it by one, and say this year’s jousting winner will be a newer, younger knight. After all the extra duties they’ve been pullin’, I’m betting on some fresh meat winning this round.”

  The dirty hunter’s laugh turned quickly into a fit of thick coughing. He cleared his throat. “The prince needs to prove himself more than ever this year, Ced. Since swearing his allegiance to the king’s new order and all.” He suddenly hunched over with a fresh wave of a hacking fit. The Doctrine glanced at Titus in the darkening woods as the sun slowly made its way down to finish off the day.

  Titus leaned close to his friend’s ear. “Still wish the prince were here?”

  The Doctrine furrowed his eyebrows. “There’s no way Regulus would agree to the way his father has been ruling lately. He is as pure of a unicorn as they come. He would never support the chaos the king has been ensuing…” But Titus noticed, his friend sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than anyone.

  As night drew near, the bounty hunters made camp. Titus and the Doctrine sat far enough away to stay out of their sight, but close enough to hear them.

  They watched the bounty hunters between the ruby colored leaves, the thin slivered moon casting down a pale light upon them. Stars spotted between the branches above their heads. Owls hooted occasionally to each other, waking up for a night of hunting.

  Titus stretched out on the ground, his blanket beneath him. He sighed deeply. “If only I could be back with Ustrina, and here with you, at the same time.” He glanced up at the Doctrine who sat on his own wool blanket, arms wrapped around his folded legs. Frogs croaked in the darkening air. “I worry about her. She’s been feeling tired and unwell lately, and then the fever happened. What if she falls ill again before Pileus awakes? Who would help her then?”

  The Doctrine glanced up, his teeth nearly
chattering from the cold. He craved a hot fire but knew it would make for a deadly giveaway. “She wouldn’t want you to worry, Titus. Do not forget, she is used to faring on her own as a Rejicio. And as a viden, she is wise enough to know when to seek help.”

  Titus pushed himself up on his elbows, watching his friend more closely. There were dark shadows beneath the Doctrine’s sapphire blue eyes. “You still care for her, don’t you?”

  “Who?”

  Titus grinned. “You know who, Doctrine. Mythia. I’ve seen this look on you before, whenever you think about her. A look of sadness and longing.”

  The Doctrine sighed. “Of course, I care for her, Titus. She is my friend. As she is yours.”

  Titus stroked his dark beard, which had grown from the rough stubbles he was used to. “There’s no point in hiding it. I know that look. It’s the look of a lost man whose heart cannot be complete without another’s.”

  The Doctrine picked up a leaf, streaked with red and yellow and dots of brown. He stared at it while he spoke. “I had my chance, Titus. And I lost it… to someone no one could ever compete with.”

  “What do you mean?” Titus asked curiously.

  “I think there was a time when Mythia had feelings for me, before I truly opened my eyes to her. One night when she was living in my home… she kissed me.” The Doctrine blushed furiously in the dark. Titus smirked. “But I did not accept her advances, as she had clearly been consumed by drink, and my feelings were far too slow to catch up with hers. By the time I realized them… the prince seemed to have taken hold of her heart. I’m sure any chance I had with her has been diminished.”