DRAGONLINKED
by
Adolfo Garza Jr.
DRAGONLINKED © 2013 Adolfo Garza Jr.
Cover design © 2013 Adolfo Garza Jr.
Photographs adapted for use on the cover design under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic (CC BY 2.0) license:
‘Butterfly-Kisses’ by Miss Turner
(http://www.flickr.com/photos/missturner/2431191313/)
‘egg on sill’ by psyberartist
(http://www.flickr.com/photos/psyberartist/6686829667/)
‘gravel road’ by David DeHetre
(http://www.flickr.com/photos/davedehetre/4377041770/)
‘Miners’ lamps’ by Mrs Logic
(http://www.flickr.com/photos/mrs_logic/4654172178/)
The CC BY 2.0 license is viewable at:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/
To my parents,
for their hard work and sacrifice.
To my brother and sisters,
for the support through the years.
And to my aunt, Elida,
who re-ignited my love of reading.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Introduction
According to a legend told by the southern desert tribes, a very content and hospitable people despite their low technology level, the universe was created as part of a wager by Ulthis the Trickster (sometimes referred to as The Trickster, or Lord of Chance). Outside of the tribes, no creation myths have Ulthis at their center. The legend is also important as it is the only one discovered thus far that links Ulthis and Yrdra the Enraged (Lady Spite) as siblings. Thus, we may know another child of Garathel the Great (Lord of the Heavens, or The Peacekeeper), Ulthis’ father. Whether Alandra the Merciful (Lady of Healing) is mother to Yrdra as well is unknown. Additionally, it is interesting to note the mention of the Incantations Primaris and Ultimum, and though their names are different, it is obvious what they are. It would seem the southern tribes have more knowledge of magic than previously thought.
The legend, as relayed to me by the Keeper of Lore of the Dialanth tribe, follows.
Ulthis was ever a jester, playful and prone to tricks. His sister Yrdra, on the other hand, was cold, exacting, and deadly serious. Her brother’s impudent behavior annoyed Yrdra to no end, and so one day in a fit of reproach, she finally confronted him.
“Your immature japes and jests have become exceedingly tiresome. Can you not be serious for even a moment?” She eyed him critically, and as she did so, he smiled at her and winked. Frowning, she said, “I propose a small wager. What say you?”
His interest was piqued. After all, he enjoyed the occasional gamble. “A wager?”
The tiniest of smiles flickered across her hard countenance. She knew his weakness for games of chance. “I believe your childishness is insurmountable. And so, the wager is that you must do something serious for five heartbeats. If you can, so be it, you will have won. If not, I will have won. It is that simple.”
Ulthis, a twinkle in his eye, asked, “And what are the stakes, sister mine?”
“If you win, I must do whatever you ask of me, and if I win, you must do that which I ask of you.” She gazed at him steadily, all confidence.
Now, being gods, the tasks they could require of each other were beyond the ken of lesser beings. And as Ulthis knew all too well, there was nothing nice about his sibling. She was prickly and sharp, nothing soft, so he of course took pause before responding.
In due course, he replied. “I accept. I will win your little wager!”
Yrdra smiled, bowed, and indicated he could begin.
Ulthis looked about the vast expanse of the universe, contemplating what he would do. If any mortals had existed, all they would have been able to see was a vast empty darkness, which was all there was of the mortal plane in this great time past. But not the gods. Their realm encompasses ours and so much more.
At first, he thought to do what he always did, something brazen or impertinent in nature. Then two things occurred to him: he was not sure he wanted to endure whatever requirement Yrdra would have for him should he lose, and he was a bit galled by her statement as it was a little too close to the truth. He thought a moment more and then began.
He cast the Incantation Primaris.
Upon seeing this, Yrdra was surprised. She knew it was only used in opening the most powerful of spells.
With the foundation laid for his work, Ulthis closed his eyes and stretched wide his arms. After a moment, the silence and darkness was interrupted by a sound, an almost unheard but powerful pulse. In that instant, Ulthis had created Suule, and thus there was light.
His heart beat the first time.
Suule shone in all his golden glory, a waypoint of light in the dark heavens. Ulthis gazed upon the fiery orb and exerted his will again. He created the highest mountains and the deepest valleys, the smallest lichens and the tallest trees, the crashing seas and the peaceful oases in the dunes, the quiet zephyrs that stir but mere grains of sand and the terrible storms that rage for days. He created our home, Lethera, and she was beautiful.
His heart beat the second time.
He gazed upon Lethera, rolling clouds swirling above her Suule-warmed face, and smiled. Once again his will burst forth, and thus was born Hemet and her sister Duvin, our two moons, silver limned and delicate in their bed of darkest velvet, night.
His heart beat the third time.
Ulthis’ gaze still rested upon Lethera, now circled by Suule’s consorts, the sisters, and what he beheld was good. His next act would require more power. Again he closed his eyes. And after the merest of moments, he created Lethera’s sister planet, Theris, her moon, Minok, and all the other stars and planets in our universe, a dusting of light in the heavens.
His heart beat the fourth time.
Even before Ulthis opened his eyes, he knew there was yet something missing. He regarded all his work thus far. And the realization of what was lacking came to him. He gathered his strength, for this would be his greatest act of creation and would tax his power. He closed his eyes, girding himself for the effort. He then inhaled long and deep, and as he exhaled, his mighty breath gave birth to people and creatures, an infinite variety, everywhere.
His heart beat the fifth time.
Yrdra was stunned. Throughout it all, she had gazed in awe and wonder at all Ulthis had created. She had not known he had the will or the creative spark to do something of this nature. Her face twisted with anger and, surprisingly to her, jealousy.
She turned to him, quickly cleared her expression, and said, “Well, my brother, it seems you can think seriously for at least five heartbeats after all. I concede the wager. What is your bidding?”
Ulthis had seen the momentary flicker of hatred and grew concerned. Would she take out her anger on his creations? He was quite proud of everything he had brought into being: the stars, the worlds, the people and creatures everywhere, and especially his first creations, Suule and Lethera. He felt surprisingly protective of it all, an unfamiliar
feeling to him.
“We are capable of incredible feats when we focus our wills. And I do have a task in mind for you. However,” and he gazed upon Lethera, “I think I should first give the people a gift.”
“A gift?”
“Yes. I gift to them hope and charity along with dreams and aspirations, so that they have the will to make themselves better.” And he made it so.
“And my request of you in payment for the lost wager, dear sister, is for you to offer your own gifts to them, so that you may share in the creation of all of this.”
Yrdra stared at Ulthis. In her cold and twisted heart, she had no compassion for the creatures he had created, had no desire to gift them anything. But her rules for the wager had been clear. His request, however, was not. As ever, she would use that to her advantage.
“How charmingly generous of you, dear brother,” she said, smiling. “I offer to them despair and nightmares and greed, so that in contrast, your gifts will be all the brighter.” And she made it so.
Ulthis frowned. “Such dark gifts. Offer them something of light as well.”
She glanced at him. “As you wish.” After a few moments gazing upon Lethera, she said, “I see that your creations are imbued to a greater or lesser extent with magic. I will give them the ability to use magic so that perhaps they can make their lives easier.” She looked at him, a dark gleam in her eye. “But as with anything, they must exert their will upon it to use it. And not all will be able to do so equally well. I would not be surprised if some suffered death while trying.” And she made it so.
“That is quite a gift,” he said. “Thank you, Yrdra. We have done well this day.”
She beheld all that had been created and turned to Lethera. A secret smile crooked the corner of her mouth, and she quietly added one thing more to the world before she turned and left.
Ulthis gazed at the emptiness where she had stood. He knew she had added another of her ‘gifts.’ The taste of the magic she used still lingered: bitter almonds and burnt bone, among others. He knew his sister would try to counter all he had done—it had ever been her way. But in his heart he had hoped that perhaps this once they could be of one mind.
He turned and watched Lethera, her mantle of white clouds moving slowly, almost imperceptibly. “I am unsure exactly what my sister has wrought,” he said, quietly. “But mayhap another gift will do. One attuned to the magic she used.” And he added a small thing, his own secret gift.
A thoughtful expression on his mighty face, he ended his glorious act of creation with the Incantation Ultimum.
—Excerpt from The Gods: A Pantheon, by Master Historian Lerimatha,
printed Sedecy 1755.
Chapter 1
Duviday, Duody 2, 1873
Evening
“Are you gonna run off and tell on me to your mommy?”
Silence fell across the bunk room of the boys’ dormitory.
Aeron balled his hands into fists at his side. Just turn around and ignore him, he thought. And don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry! He clamped his lips tight. Most of the boys in the bunk room were watching the exchange, some with amusement and some with fear or disgust.
“What’s the matter, babe?” Jessip asked with a sneer. “Gonna cry?” One of Jessip’s friends snickered.
Aeron wondered if Jessip knew that when he twisted his face like that, it made the small scar under his left eye more pronounced. He looked from the scar back to Jessip’s eyes and tried to keep his expression calm, even though his heart was racing. Turning back to his footlocker to finish getting dressed for sleep, he once again wondered why Jessip always had to pick on him. He’d been trying to ignore Jessip, hoping the bully would get bored. But so far, it hadn’t worked. Aeron pulled out a nightshirt, placed it on the foot of his cot, and closed the locker, pocketing its key after. As he pulled off his tunic, he noticed his hands were shaking.
“Hey, I asked you a question, runt,” Jessip said, stepping closer to Aeron. “Are you going to run off and tell your mommy that I’ve been mean to you?”
His back to Jessip, Aeron clenched his jaws tightly. Don’t you dare cry, he commanded himself again as he felt a tear welling up in his right eye. Aeron could endure much, but now Jessip was talking about his mother. He blinked and felt the tear fall out of his eye and hit his cheek on the way to the floor. He didn’t know what to do.
“Leave him alone, Jessip,” Willem said. He was sitting on his cot, which was just to the left of Aeron’s. “You know his mother passed on.”
Jessip looked at Willem, sneered again and said, “Oh, that’s right, Aeron doesn’t have a mommy. She’s dead. I wonder who the babe cries with now?”
Jessip and his friends laughed and continued on to their cots. Whispered conversations started up again as the rest of the boys returned to what they had been doing.
Deliberately not thinking about his mother, Aeron surreptitiously wiped his eye and pulled his nightshirt on, mussing his hair. He ran his fingers through his light-brown locks, trying to organize them a bit. As usual, though, his hair seemed to have a mind of its own, the longer wavy bits on top going where they pleased. He combed his fingers through one last time while he tossed the last of his dormitory uniform, the tunic, into a laundry bin. Then he climbed onto his cot and slipped under the blankets. After a moment, he turned to Willem and murmured, “Thanks.”
Willem, who was just under a year older than Aeron, was his best friend and almost always seemed to have a smile on his face. He wasn’t smiling now. His brows were furrowed and a sour expression pinched his face. The dark look didn’t go well with his freckles, pale complexion, and blond hair.
“He’s such an ass,” Willem said as he watched Jessip and his friends settle into their cots. They were talking in low voices and laughing. “You really shouldn’t let them get to you,” he continued and turned to Aeron.
Aeron let out a long sigh. He looked up at the ceiling and out the large windows there. During the day, they helped light the place. Now, however, even though it was night, there was still too much light yet in the room for him to see the stars.
He twisted his mouth and said, “I do try not to let them get to me. But they’ve been at it for over a year.” He looked over at Willem. “Sometimes, I just wish I wasn’t so little! Then maybe I—maybe they wouldn’t pick on me so much.”
Willem laughed. “You’re not that little, you’re almost as tall as I am.”
“Almost? I’m nearly four inches shorter than you,” Aeron said, morosely. “I’m the shortest one in the dorms.”
“Yeah, well, you’re only fourteen, plenty of time yet to grow. Besides, being tall isn’t everything. There’s more than that to a person.” Willem stared over at Aeron a moment more before slipping under the covers.
Just then Assistant Proctor Shelton looked into the room from the hallway and said, “Lights out, gentlemen!”
Aeron heard the faint scraping of metal-on-metal as shields and shutters on the lanterns and sconces all around the room were slid closed. The only illumination now came from the stars through the windows above and the soft glow coming through the windows along the back wall from the street lamps. A moment later, he could hear Assistant Shelton’s footsteps on the wooden floor as he headed back to his office.
“‘Night,” Willem whispered to Aeron.
“Good night,” Aeron whispered back.
It took several minutes for the room to become still, but eventually everyone was in their beds and settled for the evening. Off to the side, Aeron could hear very light snoring. Despite his mood, a faint smile crossed his lips. How Cheddar could get to sleep so quickly, he had no idea. It always took Aeron a while to fall asleep, especially when he had a lot on his mind, like tonight.
He turned on his side, thinking. It had now been over a year since he had come here to Caer Baronel, the seat of Lord Baronel’s holding, and he had made no headway toward a craft. Though, to be honest, he had only signed up for one trade, Magic Craft, and progress
in it so far was, well, slow. That worried him a little. He needed to get into some craft and do well at it. His father had worked very hard to get him here for that purpose, and Aeron didn’t want to let him down.
The one bright spot he had been able to cling to when his father had sent him here for a chance at an apprenticeship was that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. Perhaps at this new holding there wouldn’t be someone picking on him all the time. He could just be himself, figure out what he wanted to do, and focus on doing well at it. Then he had met Jessip.
“Look what we have here,” Jessip had said. “I do believe we now have a new runt. You’re about the smallest runt I’ve ever seen!”
Jessip’s friends had practically howled with laughter at that comment.
Aeron turned onto his back and looked at the stars twinkling above like tiny glowflies in the windows. Willem was probably right. He needed to keep on ignoring Jessip and his taunts as best he could. Jessip had to get tired of it soon, didn’t he?
Aeron reached into the pocket of his sleeping pants, removed an item, and looked at it. His mother’s Wood Craft adept pin was small and made of silver. It was about the size of a man’s thumb and was shaped like a shield with a small sapphire in the middle. He ran a finger over the pin. Why were memories of his mother so few? Although she’d died six years ago, shouldn’t he be able to remember more of her? He was worried that eventually he’d forget her entirely. Well, at least he had this.
“I miss you mom,” he mouthed in the darkness.
Aeron placed the pin back in his pocket, turned over, and went about falling asleep.
The young man was running. He had to stop every so often to catch his breath, but as soon as his heart slowed so that it no longer felt like a jackrabbit trying to kick its way out of his chest, he dashed off again. Perhaps if he arrived sweating and out of breath, he wouldn’t be scolded for tardiness. At least he hoped not. And at the current rate, that’s exactly how he would arrive. The crown of his head already itched from sweat and his brow was damp. He did not slow his pace.
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