Myths and Legends

by Sherry Foster

  Deciding to have a bit of fun, Kane looked at them and asked, "So you found Malory?"

  Timeron gave him a look of disgust. "If you did not follow the soul-thread to that boy and have found him already, I will have to drop my already-low opinion of you to nothing."

  With a grimace, Kane had to admit Timeron had a point, and he replied, "Oh, we have him, but it seems someone was hiding a little something about Merriam, and it may have came out with the memories." With a little smirk, he asked the sorcerers, "Anyone know anything about that?"

  With a grimace himself, Timeron admitted, "We may have known something, but I will tell you this, no one in this room would ever hurt that child. We sent her home."

  Kane shrugged his shoulders. "Too little, too late, maybe. Come, let's go. We are needed in the meeting room now.” Watching to make sure everyone stepped, he noticed Coliten's shoulders drooped when everyone disappeared, and he started walking out of the room. Kane looked at him. "You have not yet learned to step, have you?"

  Coliten shook his head. Grabbing his arm, Kane stepped them both back to the meeting room. Stepping out into an argument, he immediately shouted for silence.

  As everyone turned to look at him, he said, "We need to plan; the dragons have accessed the memories of the portals. We know how it was made. What we need to do now is plan how to use it, if we can use it. We need ideas, we need information, and we may need volunteers. We will find a way off this dying world, and we will do it together—without fighting." He glared at Darian and Sarian. "The planning starts now, it starts tonight, and it starts with us."

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Dragon Secrets

  Eons ago on Kardan

  With a sad look on her face, Ariannia smiled up at the beautiful dragon. “It will be for a very long time this time, I am afraid. Nothing shall disturb you until it is time for you to help my people. Your dreams will be pleasant, and the time will mean nothing to you as you slumber.”

  Tresimiaset, known to the Deyarians as The Planet Walker, looked down upon the beloved Shadow Goddess. “Can I have a few more years, just until the ones I nurtured to bring to this planet pass from this life? This planet they call Kardan still has many wonders I would love to see.”

  Ariannia shook her head, “I am afraid times are not going to be easy for my little ones. If they have you, they will just want you to open a portal to yet another planet and escape the problems they have coming.”

  The brightly-colored dragon heaved a sigh of great longing as she looked around at the beauty of the meadow with the brightly colored flowers that could almost rival her for beauty. She looked again at the tower that pulsed with the memories she had infused within it. The watchers had chosen the spot well, with her help. This was not a valley that could be accessed without being able to step through the void between one place and the next. She remembered the months it had taken to find just the right spot. She had slept for a great many centuries before opening the portal to bring the Deyarians and Lyriants through to this world.

  Seeing the look of longing upon Tresimiaset’s face brought a moment of rage to Ariannia as she remembered her uncle and his plot to bring her down. If not for the feud, her little ones would be safe on any planet they chose. It seemed, sometimes, as though she was always hiding her little ones from his plots. Well, time meant different things to the gods, and at times like this it was a good thing. Her little ones would have time to grow and prosper before her uncle’s hand interfered yet again.

  Ariannia could see some future events, but many of them were shrouded, even from the gods. She knew that far in the future, her uncle would find where she had hidden this small group of her people, and he would again try to destroy them. She knew they would have to flee, but it would be so far in their future that Tresimiaset would be but a myth. By that time her people would have spread across the land in large numbers. She was thankful her brother had let her hide her people here on his planet. She was concerned that whatever plot her uncle came up with next would destroy her brother’s creation, but when she had mentioned it to him, he just smiled. That smile still made her shudder—it was filled with malice, and the evil laugh that had accompanied it had almost made her fear her brother.

  With a smirk on his face like Ariannia had never seen, he told her, “You can see the lines of the future for your creations, and I can see them for mine. If you had not asked for sanctuary for your people on this world I created the Versioameni for, I would have offered. I see their future.” That was all her brother would say, but he would get a thoughtful look on his face and laugh deeply at times after that conversation. Before she had taken leave of him this last time, he had hugged her tightly and whispered to her that this move would make them great again in the house of the gods. She was happy then, but facing one of her creatures in emotional pain saddened her.

  “Could I not use my experience and knowledge to help them through whatever problems they have coming, my Goddess?” Tresimiaset pleaded with Ariannia.

  With a set look on her face, Ariannia shook her head. “Even you can not stop a civil war, and I need them to have this war. The Deyarians must be forced to free the Lyriants. The enslavement of the Lyriants cannot continue—if it does, my uncle will win. Many things will have to happen before the time comes to flee this world. When that time comes, you will be awakened by the call of your blood.”

  “I would rather be free to roam the planets, returning here when it is time. Goddess, please, I do not want to sleep for thousands of years again. I know I have no memories of the time lost, but you created me to walk the space between the worlds; you gave me the ability to open portals to new worlds. Why can’t I use the gift you created for me?”

  “Too many portals, too many planets, and my uncle will notice. He will notice and he will destroy you. I cannot replace you; I can not create another like you. You are too special and too important to risk. You are the only hope for the future of both the Deyarians and the Lyriants. I will promise you that when once again you roam the world, you will roam it for many thousands of years. It just will not be this world.”

  “How long, my Goddess? How long must I hide and sleep away my life this time, can you tell me?” The agony in Tresimiaset’s voice was unmistakable.

  “My beautiful Tresimiaset, I can no more tell you how many years it will be than I can tell you the future. Some things are not for you to know. What I can tell you, I will. But know this, years cannot and should not matter to one such as you. You are immortal.” Ariannia reminded her.

  “How will I know when the time comes for my slumber to end next time? Will you awaken me as you did this time?”

  Ariannia stroked the nose Tresimiaset had lowered. She loved the velvety texture of the beautiful dragon in front of her. She was so different from the dragons created as bonded ones to the Lyra. Where the Lyra-bonded dragons were solid colors, Tresimiaset had many colors. Her portals mimicked the colors of her hide.

  “Not this time, from what I have seen in the threads of the future. This time, you will be awakened by the draw of a portal created from your blood, but made not by you. The pull will draw you from your deep slumber for you to be awakened by your children.”

  “Which one—awakened by a portal, or by my children? It can not be both, Ariannia. And I have told you those tiny dragons are not my children. Why do you insist upon calling them my children? I am certain I would remember children.” Tresimiaset gave a mighty exhale of frustration. This was the same argument they had every time. The Lyra-bonded dragons were barely one third her size—if that—and so plain in color. And she was sure she would remember having children. You don’t lay eggs and not remember that. She had watched some of the small dragons laying eggs; it looked painful.

  Ariannia grew in size as she prepared to explain to Tresimiaset once again why the other dragons were her children. Soon she was the one looking down upon Tresimiaset. Sometimes she feared Tresimiaset had forgotten that she was the goddess and really answered
to no one. At times like this, Ariannia thought it best to give a subtle reminder—such as increasing in size to magnificent proportions.

  “They are your children because I said so!” Really? thought Ariannia, the first time she said this, many thousands of years ago, should have been enough. She wondered if her brother’s creations ever argued with him or gave him problems. Thinking of her brother’s creations brought remembrance of one of her uncle’s creations. “Pink-haired devils” is what her brother called them. If it was not punishable to destroy your own creation, she and her brother were sure her uncle would have destroyed them long ago. Instead he had exiled them far from him—exiled and forgotten, if the future threads she had seen were true. One day she would meet them—she hoped they were as entertaining as she believed.

  Looking up at her goddess, Tresimiaset snorted, “Still not mine. You can quit trying to intimidate me. You have confided too many secrets to my ears for me to fear you. And you might as well tone down the golden glow you have going there while you’re at it. You’re beginning to hurt my eyes.”

  With slumped shoulders, Ariannia shrank back to the size she was most comfortable with when around the one dragon she considered her personal dragon. This was what happened when you coddled your creation and told your secrets to her. The fear was seriously lacking. With a smirk, she thought of the one future thread that never failed to bring a smile to her face. One day she would return, and her return would strike fear into the hearts of her creations—and that fear would turn to respect. Looking up at Tresimiaset, she modified her thought. Her return would strike fear into everyone who saw her—except this one and one other—a special fire-walker who would be called Darian. Thinking of that future fire walker, she could not help the amusement coursing through her. That one was going to be a handful of trouble. At least he’d better be. She had twisted the threads just so, to create him when the time came.

  Looking once more at Tresimiaset, she reached out to stroke her velvety hide once more before briskly telling her, “It is time.”

  With one last look around the meadow as if to memorize everything, though she was not capable of forgetting, Tresimiaset lifted into the air to begin the journey to the slumbering cave Ariannia had created just for her. Her last parting shot to the goddess she would give her life for sounded suspiciously like, “Still not my children.”

  Ariannia laughed. Sometimes she wanted to tell her beautiful dragon just how the Lyra dragons really were her offspring, many times removed. But the threads of the time had shown her the outcome of that would be catastrophic. Knowing she had birthed the eggs while Ariannia let her slumber, knowing she had missed her children hatching and growing to adults and going on to produce many others would injure Tresimiaset emotionally in a way Ariannia would not be able to heal. Better to let her believe her goddess was just giving her a hard time than to ever let her learn what her goddess had really done. But the threads had also shown Ariannia just what would have happened if her beautiful dragon had been awake. Some threads were better not followed.

  *****

  Present day Kardan

  Tresimiaset jerked as she was pulled from her slumber. She eased from her goddess-induced slumber into one more natural to a dragon. Not awake, but yet not fully asleep, she began to dream. She had not dreamed in many tens of thousands of years, though she would never realize this fact. Her dreams were filled with a portal deep within a stone building, and the young sorcerer who had created it..

  Though she had no way of knowing, her dreams were the result of an accident by one who had no idea what he had created. What were dreams to her in her state of slumber would one day prove to be reality playing out half a world away where an innocent sorcerer had unleashed a portal he had no hope of ever controlling. Her dreams were fitful, as she dreamed through the eyes of the sorcerer. Dreams of fear and terror on several occasions had almost pulled her out of her slumber. The creation of the portal was what ultimately brought her from her goddess-induced slumber. She watched as the young sorcerer ran from the newly created portal.

  She felt helpless as she dreamed, pulled to a portal she did not create, linked through a bond with a stranger. In these dreams, she saw a portal identical in every way to her own portals. Fragments of memory would drift into dreams of the last conversation with her goddess. In these dreams, she also saw a most welcome sight. A goddess-touched fire-walker, a Chosen One, who struck terror in the stranger through whom she dreamed.

  The terror was not so welcome. “Worrying” would have more accurately described the situation. But for the time being, Tresimiaset was stuck in the dream world, removed from the reality of the situation. She dreamed of a young sorcerer, so young his hair was almost the pure white of a child. The young one called to her in his sleep, though he was not aware of it. In her dream state she tried to comfort him, but dreams bring little comfort to one who does not know the links he has woven—and the creation of the portal had created an unbreakable link.

  She watched as he finally gathered the courage to approach the portal. In her dreams, she laughed as she saw another young one approach the portal in fear. Over time more people entered the dream, and then things really began to get exciting. After months of dreaming of the same eight sorcerers, others came. She could almost feel the frustration of her linked sorcerer as these new people tried to take control of the portal.

  It was not long before the fire walker entered the dreams more fully, and things for a while turned ugly. She dreamed as her linked one ran and hid from the fire-walker. His fear was almost palpable, even through the dream. As the dream progressed, Tresimiaset saw her linked one standing in front of the tower of memories. She saw it still pulsed with memories, though not as strongly as it once had. In her dream she mourned the sight. She watched as dragons came to stand before her little one—dragons who performed a memory ceremony. As the dream unfolded, she felt as much as saw when the dragons flew away.

  Soon the echo of mental screams of anger and denial, questions, and more screams began to rouse her from her slumber. She could feel dragons closing in on her location as she started to wake from her slumber. By the time twelve strange young dragons had appeared in her slumber chamber, she was awake and waiting. She remembered everything and she knew why they had come seeking her. She knew the portal had linked her to the sorcerer, and she knew the memory ceremony had shown the link. She knew the dragons had traced the link to her and she knew they would have questions. It turned out she was not wrong.

  Irirnan looked at the giant dragon in front of him. He and the others had followed the link they had found when tracing Malory’s memories. A strange dragon in their land, linking to one of their people. They were furious when they felt the link. They were also more than a little afraid to feel a strange dragon. Their first thought was that somehow, something had come through the portal. They were only partially correct in blaming the portal, as they were about to find out. As the strange dragon rose up to her full height, Irirnan and the others began to back away. They may have come searching with the intent of protecting their people, but the dragon in front of them was intimidating.

  The mental conversation among the twelve strange dragons was proving more than a bit amusing to Tresimiaset. This was not her first time meeting new Lyra-bonded dragons, but it was their first time ever encountering a dragon not their own. She knew they would have no idea she could follow each of them mentally. They also had no idea that she had the power to control them. But they were about to find out, and she had a feeling they were not going to be very happy.

  Having finished their mental argument, the twelve dragons again turned to look at Tresimiaset, and backed up some more. It seemed they had come to an agreement of sorts, and the one they called Irirnan had been elected to speak for the rest. Most unusual, since Tresimiaset could tell he was one of the younger dragons. Every other time she had come out of a goddess-induced slumber, it was always one of the eldest dragons who took on the role of speaking for the rest
. It seemed she may have awoken in an interesting time. She could sense their discomfort and settled herself back down so as not to be so imposing. She could not help the snort of laughter at some of their thoughts, though. They actually thought they had figured out how to make more portals from what they had gathered from Malory’s thoughts. At least now she had a name for the sorcerer who had created the link to her.

  The snort of laughter appeared to be a bad idea when it caused the others to back up even further, till finally, they had reached the limit they could back away from her and still be in her chamber. She could not wait to see what approach they used to gather the information they had determined they needed. Exciting times indeed, she thought as the one called Irirnan began to speak. She settled her head on her front feet patiently and waited for him to finish his impromptu speech. It seemed this was going to be a verbal attempt at communication.

  Irirnan looked at the beautifully-colored dragon in front of him and wished, for just a moment, that he had not won the argument. He had used the argument that since he was the one who bonded to Malory’s memory he should be the one to speak for all of them; he was not sure what caused him to do that. Maybe Darian’s impulsiveness was wearing off on him. He was going to have to speak with Kirrilla about controlling Darian better—or maybe she could just keep Darian away from him. Now that it was time for him to speak, he had no idea what he was going to say to the immense dragon in front of him. He did not even know if the dragon in front of him would be able to understand him.

  Drawing a deep breath, which he then let out in a great whoosh, he gathered his thoughts, then had to take a deep breath again. “Who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here? Did you come through the portal? Why are you attached to Malory?” The questions flew out of his mouth too fast for Tresimiaset to answer, and it seemed he was nowhere near done. Dragons can hold a surprising amount of air in their lungs, but they also used a surprising amount when using verbal speech. After gulping more air into his lungs, he continued. “Why are you so colorful? You have all the colors of the portal, and we have seen what that means. We know you came through the portal, but where did you come from? How many more of you are on the other side of the portal? What are you doing in this cave?”