Fascinating, Wyrtregon thought. Sometimes he wished his lair would have been placed here. He let out a soft sigh. No, that was not to be for the Historian, or the Ones delegated to every planet as the Watchers of Life. They must be where they must be. That was the order of things.
Wyrtregon passed through the long rows of Weavers until he reached Galdean’s Weaver.
A genuine smile softened the Weaver’s pale oblong face.
“Wyrtregon, is it? I heard you coming. Did you come to talk with me or another?” greeted Spedgjek.
“It is you I wish to speak to Spedgjek, if you could spare me a moment.”
“But of course, Wyrtregon. Ask what you will. Do I need to have a Tapestry brought to you for your review?”
“That is not necessary, as I have come to talk about the Tapestry you currently weave,” Wyrtregon replied.
“I wondered when you would come,” Spedgjek said softly. “So, you know…”
“Yes. I know it was not a fault of yours, Spedgjek. Just the same, it has caused a terrible mess that, if left as things are now, will become ... well, to put it plainly, there will be no more need of the Weavers of the Strings for the Dragons.”
Spedgjek’s long agile fingers flew off from his work and covered his ears. Wyrtregon grunted, ashamed he had been so blunt. The Weavers were delicate and unfortunately felt the pain as well as the joys of those whose Tapestries they wove.
“Spedgjek, kind Weaver, this Dragon’s words fall out too harshly. It is in my eagerness my words tumble before I can arrange them correctly. Pravietis sent me to you.”
“Pravietis? I sometimes see him beneath the waters as I weave the Strings. What news does he bring from his Future Walks?” Spedgjek hesitantly inquired.
“He has an idea, to mend the Tapestry where the broken thread was tied. Would you feel for that precise spot on the Tapestry?”
“Yes, Wyrtregon. It is easily found,” he moaned deeply. “A blemish I am conscious of at all times,” he slowly admitted as he moved the Tapestry back to the blemish. Back to the day Galdean died, back to the time Dargenoin created the deception and the thread that was broken and was tied by his own nibble fingers.
“This is the spot, right here Wyrtregon,” he pointed.
Wyrtregon’s six eyes tried with all his might to detect the flaw, but it was much too small, too fine, to discern.
“Good, good,” he replied. “Spedgjek, Pravietis wants to help in righting the wrong not only done to us, but to the future of all Dragons. He needs your help.”
Spedgjek sat motionless. He had already once been used to tamper with the Strings, and now he worried why Wyrtregon had come to him.
“I understand your concern. But you must remember what I first told you. The lives of all Dragons depend on your help at this precise moment. Think on this Weaver, would you prefer to be remembered for your blemish or for your part in saving the Dragons from total obliteration?” Wyrtregon offered.
“What is it Pravietis seeks for me to do? I cannot simply untie the thread, Galdean lives,” Spedgjek moaned.
“You need do nothing of the sort,” he hastily replied. “All we ask is for you to take one of my hairs and make a fine slice of it to use as a thread to weave around the knot in the tied thread” Wyrtregon replied in an off-handed manner.
“All that you ask? Wyrtregon, the Deceiver had a better story for his corruption. You cannot ask this of me. Tampering twice? I might just as well throw myself into an abyss! How can you and Pravietis asks this of me?” His usual placid face had turned from gray to an unsightly pallor of a splotchy blue.
“Listen Spedgjek, I have come specifically because of the Deceiver. He brought us all in on this. Are we going to let him win, to get away with the total extinction of Dragons? Do not be absurd! We have a chance. We are not even sure if it is enough, but it is a chance to put a stop to what Dargenoin started and by your hand. Certainly, you must want to rectify the wrong you were tricked into creating?”
“I am just a Weaver, Wyrtregon. I am not like, well, those of you living amongst the lifeforms. I do one task. I just weave,” Spedgjek explained.
“Very well, Spedgjek. We will not force you to do this. It must be your choice. I’ve given you the sound reasons why this choice is worthy. But what you say is true. You are simply a Weaver. Oh, but wait. Dargenoin removed that from you too. You will never again be simply a Weaver. You have already become the Weaver who tied the thread, who created the blemish, who helped Dargenoin destroy the Dragons!” Wyrtregon’s three heads thrashed about roaring in disgust.
“Stop Wyrtregon, please, you are torturing me. I cannot bear these feelings of utter loss. I beg you, stop,” he sobbed uncontrollably.
“Know this. That trifle of a feeling you have now will be nothing as to when the full demise of the Dragons is felt. But that is wholly up to you. I only make an offering,” Wyrtregon said smoothly.
Spedgjek trembled and his voice shook as he said, “Come closer, so I might find a suitable hair.”
Wyrtregon’s six eyes gleamed bright red. “Certainly Spedgjek, let me lower my heads for you.”
Wyrtregon tilted his heads as Spedgjek’s long fingers went through his hairs, one by one and then-- pluck. He had found one suitable. Wyrtregon dared not utter a moan; he was balanced on thin ice with Spedgjek.
Spedgjek reached into the attached bag on his side and removed a tray with a thin bladed cutter and went to work. His fingers frequently kept checking for the thickness and smoothness until, at last, he was satisfied. He threaded a needle and wove the hair carefully around and even through the tied knot. He used the remainder of the hair thread to bind the loose ends of the knot back flush with the Tapestry. When he was done, he ran his fingers over the blemish and was well pleased. It felt only the slightest bit thicker but there was no longer a bump in the Weaving.
He turned his face to Wyrtregon, smiling. “It is now smoothed over. Hardly noticeable, even by my fingers.”
“You are the most expert Weaver, Spedgjek. I never had a doubt of your ability to do this task. May your fingers never tire, and your face always shine,” Wyrtregon gave as his parting gratitude.
“I must return to see if we have helped right our wrong. Err... thank you.”
Wyrtregon made his way back through the rows upon endless rows of the Weavers and passed the bubbling fountains to his exit, headed back towards Urthe.
Chapter 13
Zelspar made his way to the Queen and King’s lair.
“Starleira, Rynik,” he called, “We must speak.”
“Zelspar! We have been looking for you,” Starleira said making her way to the old Dragon. “Galdean is sick, you must…”
“Yes Starleira, I know,” Zelspar interrupted. “I need to talk to you about him. This will take a moment, so please hear me before any questions.”
Starleira and Rynik merely nodded, concerned by the look on Zelspar’s face.
“Dargenoin…”
Instantly, the look of concern changed to alarm.
“He has caused a great chaos in our world. He deceived a Weaver of the Strings to tie Galdean’s thread after he died in battle. I told you I followed the Call of his spirit. It was Dargenoin. He sent the Call. I should have sought the Ancestors before following the Call, but it was getting fainter, so I hurried and that is when I found Galdean. My only thought was in saving our friend. I had no idea Dargenoin was using Galdean as a way...a way to destroy all Dragons.”
“No!” the King roared.
Starleira looked at Zelspar in shock.
“Not understanding Dargenoin’s grand deception, I continued to heal Galdean at the cave after you left us. Before we left, we met Wyrtregon, the Historian. He warned me…” He shook his head slowly. “He said something I would be involved with might have dire consequences on the future of all Dragons.
Zelspar paused to look at his friends. Their love poured out to him giving him the courage to continue.
“He told us to ret
urn home and be watchful for Dargenoin. He had no idea the depths of the chaos Dargenoin had already achieved. We stopped at an oasis, to rest and feed. We did not know it had been created by Dargenoin. We drank and consumed the poisons he’d laced in the oasis, so now his poison corrupts us both.”
“Zelspar, what can we do? How do we battle against an Immortal such as Dargenoin?” Rynik was the first to ask.
The Queen added, “Can the Weaver fix this?”
“There is hope with what you asked, Starleira. Wyrtregon told me to find Pravietis, the Future Walker. I did as he suggested and spoke to him. He asked me to bring Wyrtregon to him as he had a plan to help us with this matter.”
“What did he propose?” Rynik interjected.
“I do not know at this time. I rushed immediately back here to aid with Galdean,” Zelspar remarked. “I must take him and the Healer away from the others. We need to limit exposure to our Hails.”
“Oh Zelspar, what can we do to help?” Starleira asked of her friend.
“Only that you stay alert. With Dargenoin already attacking us in this manner, there is no telling what he will try next. I’ll instruct another from my Hail what to do here if any symptoms should arise. Do not worry; we won’t be far away, just enough distance to end the possibility of any future contamination.”
Rynik asked, “Will it be possible for me to see Galdean before you go?”
“I am sorry, Rynik. I must say no. Galdean is the most vulnerable because of Dargenoin’s direct attack, so he also is the most contagious. I feel more hopeful now that I know where the attack came from and how it was done. Now I can work against it.”
“I want to find Dargenoin myself to incinerate him,” roared King Mursei.
“Rynik, if it would be that easily done against that Immortal meddler, I would be the first to volunteer. Unfortunately, it is not. We must fight against him with our wits. He is too confident. He already believes he has ruined us, but he is wrong. If there is a way to corrupt, then there is also a way to incorrupt. That is the nature of things, I only need to find a solution.”
“Zelspar, I will accept your decision, but let Galdean know I wanted to see him before you left. I know he is sick, but he made a comment which still hurts. He said I was not his friend.”
“It is only the poison that talks, Rynik. I need to go to him so we can begin fighting this battle within him. I will bring you news as I have it.”
“We will be anxious for your words, Zelspar. Do all that is possible, my friend,” Starleira said before Zelspar left their lair.
He leaned heavily onto the dampness of the wall, collecting himself before greeting Galdean. He was unsure if he could meet his eyes after seeing the images of Galdean’s future path. By all that us Dragon, he must find a way to alter what Dargenoin had thrust into their lives. He cleared his throat and stood in front of his lair's entrance.
“Galdean! How do you fair, my rambunctious patient?” Zelspar chided as he entered.
“About time you made an appearance you old forgetful Dragon. Leaving me to the hands of one of your lesser Healers. I might be dead for all that you would have known,” he pouted, trying to sound perturbed. But his special glint in his eyes gave away his happiness in seeing Zelspar.
“Let me take a look at you. Your bones feeling well healed?” Zelspar inquired.
“Yes, I feel as strong as I ever was.”
“Tell me, are you still having that strange feeling we talked about the other evening?” the old White Dragon asked, chancing a look into Galdean’s eyes.
“I must tell you, Zelspar, I did have a worrisome night and day. A fever spread through me bringing wild delusions that were a torment beyond anything I’ve ever known. Your Healer came when you could not be found, to care for me. I feel something has changed. My head no longer feels clouded. It is hard to find the correct words, but it is as if I finally fit in my own hide.”
“Progress, I should say you stout Warrior!” Zelspar said, slapping Galdean’s shoulder.
“Galdean, I’ve spoken with Starleira and Rynik about our warnings and... I’ve decided you and I and even your stand-in Healer will move our quarters for a while.” Zelspar said and waited for the roars to pin him against the walls.
“So, I gather we are not as healed as it would seem?” Galdean asked.
“It is far better to still remain cautious as we continue with our healing. There is too much at stake, wouldn’t you agree?” the wise old Dragon asked.
“I would never argue with a wise old Dragon. Not and live to grow as old as you,” Galdean chuckled.
“I will go gather some of the parcels. I will need you, Traylethon, to come with me. You will need to help me and to also grab some of your items. Galdean, you do the same. I will be back in a short span, and then we will leave. And Galdean? No time for goodbyes. We’ll all celebrate when we return, agreed?” Zelspar asked looking through his bushy brows.
“It will be as you ask, Zelspar.”
Zelspar left Galdean’s lair feeling much more optimistic than when he had arrived. Galdean did seem as if he was more like his old self. He held tight to that hope. Perhaps the Future Walker and Wyrtregon were already able to assist, it certainly would appear that way.
He felt a sudden chill and shuddered. If they did do something, Dargenoin’s wrath would be tremendous. He would let the others know; trouble could still be lurking. No time to relax, he thought.
Galdean grabbed up a few of his things and slung them across his back. In his bag, he placed his special things such as his heritage box filled with pieces of scale and bone from all his ancestors of his line. He overlooked his lair and added the ornately sculpted box given to him as he came out of his hatchling stage.
He remembered and sadness sat with him a while, remembering how in those days on Verlaunde, adulthood was never promised. So many battles. If it had not been for his friend Rynik, he may not have lived long enough to receive this box.
He traced the design with a clawed finger and recalled a gentleness of heart. He lifted the lid and peered inside and immediately closed it back tight. Oh, had it not been the fever and night scares? Why would he have kept them? He slowly let out the breath he did not know he held. His face scrunched up as he thought to ask Zelspar about it and its meaning. He may have the same affliction. He wrapped the box inside a small furry pelt and slid it to the bottom of his side bag and then waited for Zelspar.
Zelspar called Galdean to join them outside his lair. The three Dragons, with their packs, bags and treasures left the cave, left their friends and the Hails. At least one amongst the three wondered if they would ever return home. Their bodies lifted into the early fingers of night that reached slowly out to snatched up the last golden rays of the sun.
Not all were unaware of their departure. He clung to the rocks at the top of the mountain, watching. His colors hid him well, becoming the same color as his environment. His eyes rotated independently, taking in each Dragon as they flew silently past. He flicked his long tongue, tasting the air of his prey. Dargenoin’s eyes narrowed, his mind absorbed with one thought only. The mighty Warrior Galdean is mine. Once I have him firmly in my control, I will take out all other Dragons.
Chapter 14
Molakei returned to his home, troubled. Flower Bird was preparing food when he walked into the smell of roasted meats and sweet fruits, his stomach growled in appreciation.
“Father, you return. Did you speak to our Ancestors?”
“Yes daughter, but I have not come to a full understanding. This I do know; it is tied to the Dragons. Their future is in jeopardy, making Kaida’s in jeopardy also. They showed me many rivers with streams branching out in all directions. Into the main river a drop of poison was added. So strong is this poison that is does not dilute but flows through out all the streams.”
Molakei went on to explain, “They showed two Dragons with this sickness, then more until all became infected. Then they showed me Kaida had fallen ill where my chants and
medicines could not reach her. The poison moved to cover and destroy her past memories, making her legacy is endangered. When I asked what to do to heal her, they only shook their heads and pointed to the Dragons. Her healing must also be tied to the Dragons.”
“Perhaps it is not bad. She did not wake or cry out after you left. Did the Ancestors say the Dragons would make her sick?” Flower Bird asked her father.
“Yes and no, daughter. I do not think she needs to be near the Dragons to become ill. I believe the river of poison is the streams her life blood travels. Somehow, when the Dragons have this poison, her streams of life blood carry the poison also.”
“Will we become poisoned? We have many medicines to treat poisons,” Flower Bird asked her father.
“The Ancestors did not show our peoples having the poison. Our rivers and streams of life follow a different course. But that does not mean we would not suffer as well. Without the Legend Child, our future ways are changed from its current path. I will do all I can to help her, to protect her and our peoples. If I cannot help her, we will enter into the days of many sorrows.” Molakei’s face was deeply troubled.
“Are there any medicines you could use to help her legacy, to protect her memories?” Flower Bird asked.
“I am not sure. Today, I will take Kaida out where she was found. Maybe those surroundings will light a fire in her memories. I will ask her questions to see if she can tell me anything to help her. If not, we will wait and watch. I do not want to use the strong medicine of long sleep, but it is a choice if her night scares worsen.”
Groggy-eyed, Kaida awoke to the tantalizing smells of Flower Bird’s cooking and smiled as she crawled into Molakei’s lap. “Flower Bird makes Kaida hungry,” she said, reaching for some purple berries in the basket.
Molakei laughed. “She does that to me also.”
The three shared the morning meal with the sounds of chewing and grunts of approval as their only conversations, until finished.
The Legend of the Dragon Child Page 15
