by Lisa Lowell
“Yes, it is Zema,” Mohan replied. “You call this place rune stones?”
“Yes, in the dream I had a bowl, a magical bowl. I filled it with water and I saw something in it. I saw those stones I showed you. Zema. And then I saw the stones disappear.”
“Disappear!” Mohan asked, sounding alarmed. “Show me.”
Owailion obediently complied, pressing more of the bowl's vision into the dragon's mind the way he had been shown the demon panther.
“This is not good,” Mohan declared as the vision faded. “I have been to Zema several times and always found the stones there. We must go investigate. The forest is very wet there and the trees grow very thick there but nothing will grow in that clearing except those stones that have been here since before the memories of dragons. We must see if this dream has shown the truth. If they have disappeared…” The dragon let the worried threat hang in the air.
Owailion came out from under the edge of the trees to look up at Mohan. “How? I know you can fly, but I don't have wings and I need to see this too.”
Mohan rumbled in thought for a moment. “I must take you. You will ride on my back and I will fly…ishulin…to go there. It is a magic transmission. I will teach you. Concentrate on my back, how it would be to stand there; the mountain in the west, looking out over this forest to the east. You will be very high. Think of that and then wish to be there.”
Owailion swallowed a hot pit of terror at this prospect. What happened if he didn't imagine something correctly? Was this a little like the feeling he must have felt before he came to the Land, agreeing to have his memory erased in order to come here? It must be part of his personality, to take these wild, reckless leaps into the unknown. He felt that pit burn in his stomach and imagined it burned away his fear. It cleared his mind and left him to concentrate. He closed his eyes, imagined the height seven hundred feet above him, with Mohan's spikes running down, as tall as the trees of the forest. Then Owailion leapt.
And stumbled. The gold at his feet was slick as ice, and Owailion sat down before he fell, and reached out to grasp the nearest spine. “I made it!” he shouted in sheer wonder, and he latched on more tightly as Mohan tilted his head, rolling his head, trying to somehow see the tiny human now perched precariously on his forehead.
“You have good talons,” the dragon rumbled. “Do you have a secure seat there?”
“I will, once I tie myself down.” Owailion put words into action and conjured himself a length of rope, threw it around the tree-trunk sized spike he held and then lashed himself to Mohan's forehead. Then he felt safe enough to look around. From that perch he saw the caved in side of the volcano and when the dragon turned to the north, the vast frozen plains beyond it. At this height he could not see beyond the volcano, but as Mohan began clambering back up the slope Owailion had come down the day before, Owailion saw the ocean beyond the mountain.
Once he had reached an altitude where his wings would not foul in the trees at the base, Mohan spread his vast golden wings out to the side and without warning, launched himself into the summer sky. His human passenger shouted at the thrill. Mohan wheeled high above the crater at the top of the volcano and then turned east toward a long chain of mountains, as if he would fly directly into the morning sun.
“Ready?” was all the warning he gave. Then in one down stroke the scene changed. Abruptly the sun was behind them, the forest had changed below and the long chain of mountains had grown close, looming so abruptly that Mohan had to bank hard to the right to avoid the sheer cliffs.
“That is ishulin, a magic transfer. Once you know where you must go, it is simple. You have to envision it carefully or you will go to a place that does not exist,” Mohan advised and then turned his head so they could spiral over the thick pine forest below them.
“This is Zema, short for Imzemalainskalibaz. It means the Place Where Demons Smell. It is a place of suspicion.”
Without more explanation than that, Mohan began spiraling down toward the trees in his flight path, into the shadows where the twilight fell quickly. Mohan could find nowhere else to land but into the tight forest, using magic to clear a landing for himself. Owailion untied himself and then slid down Mohan's arm. Underneath the canopy of trees the dark swallowed the sun. Owailion had to conjure himself a torch to walk the few yards to the clearing of stones.
“There are no animals here,” Owailion stated the observation, knowing it for a truth, as well as a curiosity. The profound silence gave the place an eerie atmosphere.
“Yes,” Mohan replied, still able to see all that Owailion experienced even though he could not follow all the way to the clearing without trampling more trees. “They don't like the smell any more than we dragons do.”
“Smell?” but even as he said it, Owailion realized he detected a strange scent, cloying, burning his nostrils. He could not remember smelling anything like it. The odor set his magical instincts on edge. He held his torch high, struggling to see in the semi-dark, with the trees throwing alarming shadows, like walls across his path. Then unexpectedly the trees gave way to bare earth in a ring a hundred yards across.
“They are gone, just as you saw in the bowl,” Mohan snarled. “Something has taken them.”
“Taken what?” replied Owailion. “Mohan, what were they?”
Rather than explain, the dragon helpfully crafted a memory image that he passed on to the human. Owailion was treated to a much more visible and spectacular display of the standing stones he had observed in the bowl. They were dark granite, unpolished and aligned in a ring. Owailion could see the carefully written lines although the images Mohan provided did not concentrate on the script so he again lost the chance to read it. Dragons would not have thought of the markings as more than scratches an animal might inflict, but Owailion strained to see them. He so wanted to read the words to see if they might be written in his old language from before his coming to the Land.
“What do they say?” Owailion couldn't help but ask.
“We dragons do not understand these scratchings. I was going to ask you what they say. We never looked that closely. We only know that they were here before we came and that the demons leave their stench here.” Mohan moaned in grief. “This is not good. Someone or something has come and taken the standing stones without our knowledge. That means they have broken the Seal. We must call a conclave.”
Disappointed and suddenly fearful that sorcerers lurked all around him, Owailion used ishulin to return to Mohan's back where he tied himself back securely to his spot, above the forest tops once again as the dragon tried to reassure him as well as himself.
“You might as well come also. Perhaps someone has seen this ring of stones more closely than I and can remember the markings… writings for you. We must find this thief.”
Chapter 3 – Conclave
The clear sky overhead teamed with stars wherever it was that Mohan had brought him. The light reflected in the stunning water of a lake so vast Owailion assumed he had returned to the ocean. Instead Mohan reassured that he had come to an island in the middle of a lake named by the dragons Ameloni or Dragon's Tears. Atop this island was another volcano, obscured in fog and the dark. Its slopes soon would be full of the dragons Mohan had called, but they had not yet arrived.
“We have our conclave here any time there is important news that must be heard and witnessed by all. It is here we obey the commands of God. It is here we announce the birth of another or the departure of someone we will miss. We have discussed your coming here and the building of Jonjonel, your mountain. We have never had so many of our gatherings so quickly. It is unprecedented. Your arrival has made an avalanche of news. Usually these conclaves come once a decade at best.”
“Departure? You leave the Land? I thought dragons could not die,” Owailion asked curiously.
“Usually, no, but it has been known to happen that a dragon will tire of magical duty. If we remove our Heart Stone and leave the Land we can depart and go to the stars or other lands
and serve there, with less magic,” Mohan explained.
“Heart Stone? What's that?”
For some reason this comment seemed to alarm the dragon, who grumbled at his human friend in surprise. “You do not have a Heart Stone?” Then Mohan looked up at the volcano above them. “It is something else we must address then. I will explain after the conclave.”
“Would you ever leave?” Owailion asked with another drop of fear added to this stressful day. He was not ready for his friend to leave.
Mohan murmured reassuringly. “I do not see that happening, even with the Sleep coming. I care too much for Tamaar, my mate, and for you and the Land itself. I want to learn what has happened with Zema disappearing. I also hope to awaken someday to a Land with humans protecting it. There is much to anticipate and I would not want to leave.”
Owailion sighed with relief. “And I would not want you to leave either, my friend. There seems to be so much to learn.”
“It might be wise to do your sleeping now and by dawn there will be a gathering of dragons here. Then you shall see the dragons in conclave and they shall meet you again.”
Owailion agreed with that idea and so slid down Mohan's long body and landed on the shore of the island where the conclave was to be held. Instantly he noted the crunch as his feet landed. It sounded like the rattling of dry bones and Owailion shuddered. “What is this?” he asked in private horror. He could not imagine bones were littering the shoreline, but nothing else he could presume would sound like that and feel so loose and disturbingly broken under his feet. He bent and carefully picked up the material from which the shore seemed littered.
“Dragon Tears,” Mohan provided. “We come here only when we share our emotions and these stones come when we come. So we call them dragon tears even though we do not truly drip tears of stone.”
Tears of stone? Owailion lit a conjured torch again so he could see the pebbles he had gathered and what he saw amazed him. Could these be diamond? The cloudy white stones as large as a hazelnut glowed in the firelight. Without examining it by day he could not be sure, but he yearned to cut the stone and see how it broke, polish it up and discover how these stones had come to cover a volcanic island in the middle of a lake. He could not dredge up much information on diamonds from his former life, for he had probably not been a jeweler but surely the gemstones existed here in the Land.
Without answers, Owailion dropped the gems back into the others on the shore and conjured himself his bedding. He would do as Mohan advised; sleep while the sun remained hidden and prepare for the conclave in the morning.
He had not anticipated having a dream; not like the one where God had told him about the missing stones. This time a woman shrouded in fog walked across the shore of diamonds in the morning mists. The white and blue stones at her feet did not crunch or even stir as she moved. Her long silver gown looked like a wash of water across the pebbles as she floated before him like she consisted of the fog lifting off water. The mist hid her face from him, but her pale hands and the wondrous length of her flowing hair loosely braided down her back told him pointedly that this was again the literal woman of his dreams.
Witlessly, unable to move, Owailion watched her pass in front of him. He wanted to reach out or speak with her, but he seemed frozen. Then, when she almost dissolved into the fog, she reached down and picked up one of the thousands of stones on the shore. Why that one, he could not tell, but then she turned back toward him and brought him the diamond. He watched her hold the little rough pebble in her palm, like an offering and then her other hand passed over it. When he looked again, the stone had become a faceted and polished jewel. Indeed, it shown like diamond in her palm and this enchantress held it out to him.
With trembling hands Owailion could not reach out to take it, and he hesitated when he heard her voice, gentle like water over stone. “Use them to craft the Talismans of our power. Hide them well. We will Seek them.”
Owailion stood there, so mesmerized by her finely evocative voice, the sultry tones of it that he could barely comprehend the actual words. Talismans? Seek? He felt incapable of even picking up a stone at his feet, let alone taking the cut jewel from her. He tried again and with shaking hands he reached. He could almost touch her alabaster skin and feel the life there. His own calloused and browned fingers looked so harsh in the mist, but he tried anyway. Before he could touch her, she faded into the morning light and he awoke.
Dawn had come to the lake and Owailion sat up alone in shaken grief. The mist was real, he saw, for the silver fog put everything in a haze. He wanted to go back to sleep and dream of that queen again. And when he looked down he found that in his hand he held a cut diamond the size of a walnut, but polished and given to him by his dream. Owailion gasped and closed his hand around the precious stone.
Owailion rose and began pacing the beach as he considered the messages of the dream. He had another admonition; to make 'Talismans of our power'. She obviously referred to the other Wise Ones who would follow. Was she one of them? Owailion sincerely hoped so. He wondered at the little bowl that had shown him the theft of Zema. Was it a Talisman for another Wise One then? Was it for the lady in the mists? If so, he felt unworthy to explore the bowl himself. It was a gift for her and each Talisman would be unique to the future owner and possess magical gifts. And this Queen had suggested that the diamonds she had cut would become decorations and reservoirs of power for some of these Talismans?
Suddenly Owailion felt overwhelmed by the duties he had garnered; more than the diamonds at his feet. Find missing rune stones, battle sorcerers, stop demons, build palaces and craft Talismans for the other Wise Ones to find? How was he going to accomplish this all while learning magic before Mohan went into hibernation? He couldn't do it all, Owailion realized. He would be alone soon and the thought terrified him. And when word got out that dragons were asleep, human sorcerers would consider the Land prime property for invasion. How would he do it all?
A sense of panic began to sink in his bones and he sat back down on the crunching diamonds, overwhelmed by the fear and hopelessness. He reached absently for the stones at his side and without thinking about it he grabbed two fists full of the rocks. His frantic mind flared magically and he felt the stones turn to dust. Owailion gasped and opened them again to reveal he had a dozen faceted and perfectly polished stones in each hand.
“So that's how she did it,” he breathed out in wonder.
“It is time,” Mohan interrupted his ruminations.
Owailion looked around for the dragon in the pervasive fog. “Are you up on top of the mountain? I cannot see you,” he asked in an effort to forget the strange dream and its distracting subject. He didn't want to think of new duties or the lovely lady who had demanded them of him. He wanted to concentrate on one thing at a time.
“Yes, come to the top of the mountain. Join me and you will see Conclave,” Mohan suggested since obviously Owailion was not going to resolve his confusion any time soon. Owailion scattered the cut gems on the shoreline and drew on the dragon's vision to know how to ishulin himself to the top of the volcano.
His first perception was that he had risen to the clouds and the blazing morning sky greeted him, floating above the earth. On further examination he recognized Mohan's head was simply up above the fog bank that enveloped the lake and the dragon sat atop the dormant volcano beneath the clouds. The mountain on which the dragon stood barely topped the mist.
“Flames are not just for battling invaders.” Mohan gave him that as a warning and then rumbling of gasses blasted up within the dragon's body and erupted out in great gouts of gold flames twenty yards out in front of him. The dragon passed his head over the clouds and his inferno burned across the fog bank which disappeared instantly, seared away as if the sun had baked it into nonexistence.
With the fading mist the other dragons were revealed. The glittering of scales and flash of metal blinded Owailion briefly but he now saw the panorama of sixteen dragons sitting on every inch of
the island volcano in the center of the massive lake. Owailion could not see the outer shore, as if the island were all the earth remaining and it had become covered in precious metals. All their twisting necks, flared wings and snapping tails created a blur of color. Were they all agitated?
“We are not happy,” Mohan began as both a reply to Owailion's unspoken question and an opening to the Conclave. “The standing stones at Zema have been stolen.”
A deafening roar of dismay from the dragons momentarily interrupted, making Owailion's ears ring. Then Mohan continued. “We did not realize the Seal has been breached and someone has taken them for a reason we do not understand. Any who wish to speak, please introduce yourself first so that Owailion may learn your voices.”
One dragon, green, wingless with two heads growled audibly before he spoke up and helpfully Mohan swiveled his head around to look down at the volcano's base to show Owailion exactly which dragon addressed them. “Ruseval is how I am called and I warned you Mohan, that the distraction of bringing a human to the Land would be our undoing. You have not watched as you should, and that is why someone was able to come to steal the stones. Or perhaps it is the human who has taken them.”
That comment got another resounding roar. Owailion could not tell if it were in protest or agreement with that declaration. Another dragon, silver, with three heads in amethyst, emerald and sapphire tones spoke up against that. “We are Tamaar, and you Ruseval do not know of what you speak. No outlanders have approached our shores to steal the stones or we would have seen them. Mohan is doing his best to prepare this human for when we sleep. If you feared that his coming would distract Mohan then you should have volunteered to teach the human instead.”
So the three headed jewel-toned dragon was Tamaar, Mohan's mate. Her triple-voiced words cut straight through Ruseval's accusations. She would be formidable, and a fitting mate for his friend, Owailion decided.
“You may call me Imzuli,” added a smaller, white and silver dragon. “No one was watching where those standing stones were placed, so close to the Great Chain, with so many of us nearby. Even if the human was not a distraction, we might not have noticed when the stones went missing. They could have disappeared years ago. They are a curiosity and nothing more.”
