It was a woman. She was tall – as tall as a human male - with dark brown hair cut just at the top of her slender shoulders. She wore a white dress fashioned from a material that captured the light and managed to give the illusion of movement, even though she was standing perfectly still. Her eyes sparkled blue as she smiled her welcome. She looked almost human, Ganix considered. But not quite. The proportions were a little wrong: eyes spaced more widely; lips too full; nose slightly larger.
“Who are you?” he demanded, trying not to sound afraid. “What is your name?”
“My name?” She looked over to one of the chairs. It was a bit worn compared to the others. “Kylion said I needed a name. But I could never choose one. They were all so lovely. So he chose for me and called me Varia.”
“Varia…” repeated Ganix.
“I see he was right,” she continued. “He said you would change. He said it was inevitable. Though it seems you didn’t adopt the language of the primitives like he imagined you would. Did they perhaps adopt our manner of speech instead?”
“Primitives? You mean the elves?”
Varia looked confused for a moment. “I suppose my translation program may be causing me to hear and speak their language.” Her smile returned. “It doesn’t matter. You have come, and I am pleased.”
“You say you were expecting us?”
“Naturally,” she affirmed. “The Dwemsor are an adventurous species. I knew that one day you would return. Though I am rather surprised to see only two of you. Are more coming?”
“Are you alone here?” asked Ganix, ignoring her question.
“Yes. Since dear Kylion passed away, there has been only me.” Her eyes drifted back to the chair. “I do so miss our conversations. He was absolutely brilliant. A pity he cannot see you here.” She laughed musically. “Though he would probably drive you mad with questions.”
“How have you survived all alone for so long?” asked Hanvir, finally recovering his wits.
Her confusion briefly returned. “Dear me. I’m afraid my program is far too degraded to understand your question. I am not even sure how long it has been.”
“Your program?” echoed Ganix. His eyes narrowed. “What are you exactly?”
She cocked her head. “An odd question. I am Varia. What else would I be?”
“What I mean is, are you alive?”
Varia frowned. “I can only imagine that is a joke. Are you not here to repair me? I assumed you are back because it is time to return home.”
She paused to regard the two dwarves for a long moment and then shook her head. “It is far worse than even Kylion had guessed. The degeneration is absolute. You have become like the primitives.” She walked over to the worn chair and knelt beside it. “You were right all along, my love. I should not have stayed.”
Ganix moved closer and reached out to touch her comfortingly on the shoulder. But to his utter amazement, his hand passed right through her as if through mist. He stepped quickly back.
“Are you a spirit?” he asked, unable to keep a slight tremor from his voice.
She looked over to him, sorrow etched deeply into her face. “I am a projection. Kylion created me in the likeness of his wife.” She could see further explanation was needed, so continued. “I am the mind of this vessel. Though tragically my program is now badly degraded. Most of my memory is corrupted and very few things here still function.” She cast a dismissive hand. “Not that you will understand any of this.”
“I understand,” said Ganix. “Or at least, I believe I do. And you are correct when you say that our people have deteriorated. We have lost much of what we once were. This is why we have come here. We seek to learn more about our past.”
Varia stood and turned toward the orb. “You are what you have become. What you once were is gone. Why seek it out? You cannot become so again.”
“But we are eager to relearn what has been lost,” Ganix pressed on. “Can you not help us?”
She shook her head. “I am sorry. There is nothing I can do. The knowledge I once possessed is lost. All that is left are a few remaining words from my love.”
A man appeared in the chair. He was tall and slender, with long gray hair that was tied into a loose braid. He was old - as old as King Ganix from the look of him - and his eyes stared vacantly as he fiddled with the tip of his braid.
“Is that Kylion?” asked Ganix.
Varia smiled. “Yes. Handsome, is he not? Even as he grew old, he never lost his charm.” She bowed her head. “There are only a few entries left. The rest are gone forever. I will play what remains for you if you wish.”
“Thank you. I would very much like to hear them,” replied Ganix.
Kylion's form came to life. “I will continue to log in entries for as long as I can,” he began. “Should …return…ask…and Varia.”
The image froze completely still.
“I regret that much of it will be like this,” explained Varia. “Even what little I could save is damaged in many places.”
Kylion’s mouth resumed moving, but for several seconds there was no sound. Again the figure froze for a moment, then it returned to its previous staccato fashion.
“Decided to remain here. With my dear wife gone and….My son is overseeing the completion of Borgen…shorter…facial hair…in time we will not resemble the people we are today. Higher gravity and…. Most of our technology has been damaged by the strange energy…planet…cannot…drains…cells. We’ve tried to build new equipment and tools, but only a few among us have the skills. And there are…to construct…will be all…Not that it matters…programming…impossible. Soon we will be little better than…ears…rocks…see us as…war.
“I have done as much as I could to preserve what remains…memory…but unless we find a way…not be able to return. I have shielded the ship’s A.I. At least that...someone to talk to. I just cannot bear to watch the fall…to ruin…primitive…animals…spears and clubs. But I suppose it doesn’t matter...You never know....still keen minds among us...some of our technology still functions. They are even working…portal…bridge…So a return home may be in our future if they can make it work.”
Kylion vanished completely for a number of seconds, then reappeared.
“Son…attacked…badly injured. Thankfully, he survived and was able to make it back to Borgen. Communications have become unreliable. Soon...cut off completely. It is for the best. I am the last of the original Dwemsor who arrived here...not need me as a reminder any more than I need to be reminded that I am truly alone.”
The image vanished again.
Varia sighed. “My poor Kylion. He never said it aloud, but I think it broke his heart when his son stopped visiting.”
Kylion reappeared, this time wrapped in a thick blanket. He looked thin and weary, and bore deep circles under his eyes. “This…third time I have fallen ill. I grow weaker each time...will not last through another...Varia has been a great comfort. Sometimes I forget that she is only…I have been thinking of home more often. I miss the lush fields outside my house and the little river where I would sit and read until dusk. I even miss...spires of the great cities...always hated crowds. But now...would very much like to see them again...find myself staring up at the ceiling at night, hoping they will find us. But I know the truth. They are not even looking. And even if they were, they would end up trapped as well. The moment they landed…engines…doomed…death.”
The image flickered and then faded for a final time.
“He died later that night,” Varia told them. “After that, I decided to shut down. Without Kylion to repair me, I would have expired entirely in a very short time.”
Ganix and Hanvir were still staring at the empty chair.
“His body is still in his quarters,” Varia continued. “But all that remains are bones and a few tattered rags.”
“Is there anything here which might help us?” asked Ganix. “Anything that was left behind?”
Varia shook her head. “The enti
re ship was stripped of anything useful. Nothing remains.”
Ganix moved over to a chair next to the one Kylion's image had been occupying and slumped down with a heavy sigh. “Then this was all for nothing. Everything was a waste.”
“I am truly sorry,” Varia told him. “But there is nothing I can do. Events have unfolded just as Kylion predicted. I wish it were not so.”
Hanvir moved closer to place a hand on the king’s shoulder. He then turned to Varia. “Is there anything at all you can tell us of our former world?”
“The information I had regarding Dwemsil is all gone,” she replied. “And do not forget, I am an A. I. and never personally saw your home world.”
“Dwemsil?” whispered Ganix.
Varia smiled. “Yes. And you are the Dwemsor. Albeit a shorter and hairier Dwemsor than your ancestors. Your people created all of this…and me. Kylion always spoke of his people with great pride you know.”
“What do you want to do?” Hanvir asked Ganix.
The king sat silently for a long moment. Despair was written all over his face.
“You can remain here with me if you wish,” Varia suggested. “It will take time for my program to fully degrade. I would very much like the company.”
As if a switch had been flicked on, Ganix’s face suddenly hardened. “We are going home, Hanvir. And then we are going to kill Shinzan. We have wasted enough time in the past. We must now look only to the future.”
“Will you return?” Varia asked. There was no small measure of disappointment in her tone.
“No,” Ganix replied firmly. “We do not belong here. We are not the Dwemsor. And our home is not Dwemsil. We are the Dwarves. Lumnia is our home – and she needs us.”
Chapter Twelve
Renald sat quietly on the porch, staring at the steam rising from his mug. The sun was still more than an hour away from breaking the horizon, but the cries of Maytra regularly plagued his dreams, making a full night’s sleep impossible. The enormous guilt he felt was beyond his capacity to simply push aside. At times he had even considered moving ahead with the blood debt he'd agreed to pay the sirean. But that would be a selfish act - and a cowardly one. He refused to end things that way. There was still much to do.
Jake and Val were learning at a rapid rate. More so than he would have expected. Jake was even becoming less volatile. Of course, that had only begun to change after he'd met the elf woman. Being thought of as a child had not sat well with him. Particularly when his behavior had so clearly supported the accusation.
The cabin door creaked gently open to reveal Poul. “Am I bothering you?” he asked.
Renald pointed to the chair on his left. “No. You can join me if you wish.”
“I've no time,” he replied. “I’m on my way to fetch Markus. He and Jake said we’re going fishing today.”
“Jake has his studies,” Renald responded. “But I suppose we can have fish for dinner. Assuming you catch some.”
“Oh, we will,” Poul assured him. “Markus is an excellent fisherman.”
He started off toward the shore where Markus and Lylinora spent much of their time.
“Boy, wait,” Renald called.
Poul turned, an enquiring look on his face.
“Have you seen Maytra?”
He nodded. “What an amazing creature. I can’t believe I’ve seen it. But…”
“But what?”
“It seems…hurt. And it’s getting bigger. Or at least, I think it is.”
“How big is she?”
Poul held up a hand about waist high. “But I would swear that the first time I saw it, it was no higher than my knee. I could be wrong. It never comes very close. Half scared me to death the first time I saw it.”
“It is a she,” Renald told him sternly. “And yes. She is growing.” After waving Poul away, he returned his focus to the tea mug.
Conflict had been raging inside him ever since Maytra's curse was lifted. He longed so much to see her and tell her how sorry he was. He could feel their connection still, even though it was much changed. Whereas before he would know her every specific thought, all he received now were waves of powerful emotions and strange images. Lylinora, sensing his distress and rightly guessing the cause of it, had made several offers to accompany him to the lake where Maytra was spending most of her time. But on each occasion, out of shame more than anything, he had refused.
Suddenly, he seized hold of the mug and tossed its contents over the porch railing. He could not go on like this. Yes, he was as guilty as could be. But he loved Maytra, and it was time he faced up to what he had done. Pushing himself to his feet, he set off toward the lake, barely aware of the creaking and stiffness in his joints.
On approaching the lake, he quickly spotted the shadow of Maytra lying near the water’s edge. Just as Poul had told him, she had grown to roughly the size of a large dog. Even in the dim light of pre-dawn, her white scales seemed to glow and shimmer. Muscles throughout her body rippled as she rolled over onto her side and let out a gurgling growl. The sound of it caused Renald to wince. Her pain was constant, though he could tell she was far more comfortable than she had been only a week previously.
“Maytra,” he whispered.
She knew he was there, but did not look up. Was she angry, he wondered? Did she have any desire at all to see him? Or did she feel only betrayal and hurt?
He approached until he was only a few yards away and then fell to his knees. “I am so sorry,” he said. “Please forgive me for my selfishness.”
At last Maytra lifted her head, allowing the two of them to lock eyes. Immediately, Renald’s mind was assaulted by a flood of emotions. She was trying to speak to him - to tell him something. But it was too much to understand. Way too powerful.
“Please,” he begged. “Less. You're overwhelming me. I can’t understand you.”
But instead of decreasing, the feelings actually grew, doubling, and then perhaps even tripling in strength. The intensity was now way beyond anything Renald was able to withstand. He doubled over, clawing at his face and screaming incoherently, though he had no idea of how long this spasm lasted. It might have been a mere few seconds; it might have been several minutes. All he was aware of was when it suddenly stopped, he was still again.
His heart was thudding in his ears and he felt trickles of blood running down his cheeks. Gradually, he lifted his head. Maytra was now standing only a few feet away. Her serpentine eyes regarded him in a way that he knew to be one of kindness and love. She moved forward until her long snout was mere inches away from his face.
“Please forgive me,” he said.
Her long tongue flicked out and touched his wounds.
Nothing to forgive, my love. You saved me. You saved us all.
The words echoed in his mind, as if coming from some distant corner of his spirit. A special place that Maytra could now touch and enter.
“I can hear you,” Renald gasped. “How is that possible?”
He heard the tinkling of tiny bells. After a few seconds, he realized that it was laughter. Maytra’s laughter.
I have joined with you. Our lives are now bound together. Not even Ethan Dragonvein shares this bond with my kind.
“But why? After the wrong I have done you. Why would you do this?” Tears were beginning to well in his old eyes.
Because you saved us. You cared for us. Had you removed the curse, Shinzan would have come for me. I am no longer a part of the spirit of the dragons. His curse separated me from my brothers and sisters. I would not have been able to hide in the same way the others did. For this, and for many other things, I thank you.
“So what happens now?” Renald asked.
Soon I must go. I must join the fight. I must serve Lumnia, and those who dwell upon her.
A protest rose rapidly to the old mage's lips. “But you are the last. If you are killed…”
Take comfort. The dragons will endure. Because of what you have done. Because of what you have sacrificed.
Her eyes fell to the point on Renald’s chest where the blade had entered while making his bargain with the sirean. This world will never forget that you gave so much. Though I can no longer hear her call, Lumnia and her spirit will remember you always.
“How long before you must go?”
Soon. Though cut off from my kin, I can feel Ethan Dragonvein in my spirit. Before long he will need me. I fear that danger lurks. And even with the mighty Martok as an ally, he will not be safe.
The hairs on the back of Renald’s neck stood up at the sound of Martok's name. “Is he…evil?”
Evil? No. Not in the way you would understand it. He is dangerous. But then, so are you.
Maytra staggered back. The pain she was feeling pierced Renald’s heart.
“Is there nothing I can do to ease your suffering?” he asked, placing his hand on her snout.
Only one thing. Go to the place where my brothers and sisters fight Shinzan. Take their blood.
“Why? What will happen if I do?”
You will then be able to use their strength. One mage remains. And he must be found. Should I fail to protect Ethan Dragonvein and he falls prey to his enemies, you must use your power to bring back the final mage yourself.
“I will do as you ask,” Renald promised.
With a soft gurgle, Maytra laid down and rested her head on her forelegs. Though she did not attempt to communicate any further, Renald remained by her side until well into the morning. It wasn’t until he heard Markus and Poul approaching that he gave Maytra a loving caress just above her eye and stood.
There was renewed vigor and purpose about him as he strode past the pair. On reaching the cabin, he saw Lylinora sitting on the porch with Val and Jake.
Lylinora got to her feet and moved forward to greet him. “We were wondering if you were coming.” She noticed the scratches on his face and frowned. “What happened to you?”
Completely ignoring her inquiry and not even breaking stride, he continued on into the cabin. Jonas was reading a book by the fireplace. He too noticed the scratches, but a fierce look from Renald deterred any questions. He merely shrugged as the old mage set about packing some food, water and a blanket. A few moments later, Lylinora came inside looking none too pleased.
Dragonvein - Book Three Page 18
