“Elder, it would be my honor to tell you aught of what you must know, and so of what you should know.” Her wings dipped, curled, and she set down as lightly as a sparrow ahead of and below Duum on the shell, straddling the Rune allowing Elder Brobble to fly. Her head snaked down over atop of his, a re tithe of its size. “Listen, and I will speak of things dragons must know.”
I relaxed atop Duum, letting the world unwind before us as Elder Brobble slowly rose in altitude, letting him see further and farther, above the stone, and appreciate the size and scale and imnsity of the horizon and the curve of the world.
The track of the river was hundreds of miles long, but we were in no hurry.
--------
Eisen Bay sprawled out below us. It was early in the morning, before dawn, the sun lightening the sky in east as Elder Brobble turned to face it.
“This will be your realm,” I told the dragon turtle, as he faced the Dawnbreak Ocean beyond the mouth of the great bay of Eislas. “But you are not strong enough, nor wise enough to claim it for your own.
“I have spoken with Lady Hydrosa, and she has agreed to take you into her own court for now, teaching you of the ways of mortals, spirits, and immortals alike. Your ancestral knowledge will teach you much, but your years of imprisonnt have cost you a great deal, and we have to rectify that.”
“The Flower of the Oceans has a powerful reputation among the beings of Water,” he agreed softly, staring in wonder at what was to be his first sunrise.
“Aye, a great ruler, and a trendously dangerous enemy. A strong hand on this world, with a realm that can ward her people against their enemies and a valiant defender to lead it… these would be fine things for her to have here.
“There is a great whirlpool and Elental Gate to water in a bay far to the north of here. It is controlled by a cruel and whimsical marid Sultan who has long been an ally and servant of Gulguz, an Immortal who is a great enemy of our people. Taking the Heart of the Saber River will raise the standing of Hydrosa, but mastery of the fresher waters is seen as inferior to the seas and oceans. Having dominion over Eisen Bay through a servant will give her a standing political and magical that will be very useful in their conflicts.
“Now see this, and rember this.
“Every day the sun rises, and does not care what ca before. That ti is past, and a new day cos, and with it, the new beginnings of a life you were never ant to have! Cherish the dawns, noble Brobble, and repeat after !
“Dreams of the winds at dawn!”
“DREAMS OF THE WINDS AT DAWN!” the dragon turtle bood out energetically, steam bubbling and boiling ecstatically out his nostrils and mouth!
--
...”BEHOLD THE NEW DAY!” he finished, swathed in mist and steam, and the first rays of dawn broke through the horizon. Light and wind whispered past, a balm on the soul, and sothing vast, sothing great and benevolent and mighty, passed over us all.
Elfin and Bat and dragon and dragon turtle raised our heads together, facing into the east, and breathed in the first light of a great dragon turtle’s first dawn, the beginning of his new life.
There were a score of seabirds and even a small osprey roc perched on his shell and flippers up here now, floating half a mile above the gentle white waves below. All were facing the dawn of the mont since they could understand our words, and they all burst out a-cawing and a-hooting as they felt the hand of the morning touch them as it swept gently on by.
“I will spread the news of your coming to the kingdoms on the shores, and they will await your return, Great… no, we will call you Brobble no longer, for you are not caged any longer. You will be Kroklar, the Unchained, free upon the world, and woe to those who attempt to chain others beneath your watch!”
The new Kroklar opened his jaws, and superheated steam poured forth with a roar of release and a promise of power. As it did, the dawn’s rays hit it perfectly, and for a terribly subli mont, the world was covered in the rainbows of a dragon’s liberation and the wonder of the dawn.
It was a great and Good mont.
===========
The Mick looked over the restless crowd with a grim, knowing expression. The n there looked back in wary respect and not a little fear, for Miklan McMikal exuded a formidable aura of weight and intimidating prowess that had cowed even the ornery and independent hilln here.
Being called to a eting here was unsettling in the extre, not the least because word of hundreds of elves moving through the night was making the rounds, yet they all seed to go to ground during the day. Nobody knew what was going on, and it was making them nervous.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from ; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
They were a strong and independent bunch, clashing with raiding scum from the black mountains to the west and the bleak expanses to the east, although the latter were fewer and farther between as of late, given the rciless aggression of the elves and dwarves to the northeast of them.
Finding humans here, especially Caers, was not expected, but two were in the livery of Rangers of Erendyl, who had very rapidly made themselves known along the borders and the military camps here, where they had doubled as Healers and were known for unstinting use of magic to support their fellow soldiers.
There were also two elves here, one of the golden hair of the Sidhe, and one with whiter hair and grayer skin, looking almost ethereal and rather sharp next to the Sidhe, with paler garb and colors, plainly of a different tribe.
Farrs, hunters, hilln, prospectors, miners, a few herders and shepherds. They were n and won who’d had no lord, prided themselves on not needing one, and were not liking the implications of the numbers under this grand tent of cloth spun out of nowhere… although the plates of chicken and potatoes, and the mugs of cider, went over well, at least.
The Mick finally polished off the last of his beans and got to his feet. He wasn’t the biggest of n, but his presence instantly silenced all the conversations and speculations going on. Forks and spoons clinked as they were set down or the last of the al was hurriedly downed as the won were coming around and collecting the last of the plates, doing the final top-off of the cider from decanters that never seed to go empty. Chairs scuffed for a mont, and the Mick glared around, making those in attendance stiffen as his gaze swept past them with a very real force to it.
“I am Miklan McMikal of Caerguard, born on the western slopes of the Colossus Mounts to the north. I was crawling up and down hills before I could walk, I was hunting before I could talk clear, and I killed my first orc before I kissed my first girl… by about an hour, as it were.”
His voice was cutting strong and clear, and the last line drew a few knowing chuckles at his reward.
“Ye were called here on wizard’s business, and grim business it be,” he said flatly. “Durgalgor, ye still taking Iendyl’s gold to spread whispers and send back lies to him?” he asked rhetorically.
Heads turned around to find the hatchet-faced shepherd with holdings to the north. “Bought a dozen rams with the last paynt, Lord Mick!” was the instant reply, clearly unrepentant.
“I be hearing word that he wants to sponsor a barony down here,” the Mick went on laconically.
“Well, that may or may not be true, heh! But there’s been more blue-haired bastards riding up and down the road to Camp Kristneth than warranted, especially since he withdrew his Banners, and naught but Erendyl’s folk are riding the routes now!” the herdsman replied quickly.
There was a grumble there. Erendyl’s people handled the eastern border fine, but the Banners of Iendyl and Fuireze were supposed to handle the western side, albeit often late and with a notable lack of enthusiasm. Even that had stopped since they’d been recalled to the border between the two Principalities.
“Oinder! Sa for Fuireze?” the Mick asked, equally casually. It was a clear sign he knew what was going on in the area, and who to speak to.
The portly millowner snorted. “Fuireze will poison any fool of a baron who tries to open a holding here without their Prince’s leave, Lord Mick!” he stated with firm conviction, glancing at the elves who were watching this carefully. “We’ve gone through, what, six or seven buffoons in the last ten years, thinking we need them strutting about and claiming lordship above us?”
There were murmurs of agreent all around. Wizard nobles were known to be foul things to have, and if word were correct, the Mick here was a mber of those who had overthrown the necromancers of Caergard, and his cousin was the new Prince of Caeledon!
“Six months from now, there will be a new Principality along the road to Camp Kristneth, Kristneth itself will knuckle under to its new masters, and you all will be living in wizard’s dominions.” The Mick’s statent was flat and ruthless, and appalled faces stared back at him. “Iendyl and Fuireze can’t do anything to stop it. What they can do is rush out so ambitious sots who say they can protect you and shield you and all the things they promise and don’t deliver, as any fool among you knows with any visit you’ve ever made to their lands.” He let that weigh on them, watching them glancing back and forth and murmuring nervously, before proceeding.
“The new Principality will be an elven Principality. To be absolutely truthful, it will be Shaden elves, a distant tribe, of whom Lord Uskvos here is a mber.
“They co here with the full recognition and approval of Erendyl and the Sidhe, but they are not Sidhe elves.” He enunciated those words very carefully for them, watching their eyes.
“At their heart, the Sidhe are hunters and gardeners, caretakers of the land and its animals. Ye all know they make fine enough neighbors, honest enough traders, and deadly, dangerous enemies, as the tribes of the Bleaklands have finally learned.
“The Shaden, the Shaden be survivors and soldiers.”
The humans straightened, looking at the pale elf carefully now. He looked back with eyes that had seen a great deal of death, and were willing to see more.
They could understand eyes like that.
“The land they co from is shite and piss. Ye look at yer poor lands and hills and stony soil, and ye think it crap and rock and what-all ye’ve got to drag a living from with blood and sweat just ta live here.” Heads nodded all around at that description.
“The Shaden think ye be living in paradise.”
They all blinked at that description. The Mick coughed, rolled his eyes, and went on. “The Sidhe have told them otherwise, and they’ve seen the elven lands, so they do know better. But compared to where they be hailing from? This be green and growing and full of life and light and the love o’ the land.
“Twenty thousand be coming here. They’ll occupy the land, they’ll vote, and they’ll form a Principality, just like that. Ye can’t stop them, the Princes can’t stop them, and Erendyl applauds them.
“The land yer on now will be directly on the border of that new Principality. The Shaden know this, and they don’t want a bunch of wild humans on their border. In that interest, having buffer zones of friendly humans against the piss-and-shit bastards to the north sounds like a good idea to them.”
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