Lost in the Wreaths of Time 3 - Explore the arcane fantasy world of Haviar

Lost in the Wreaths of Time

An exploration of the people of Duotro and the Firestorm Mountains

Part 3
(Missed Part 2? Read it Here!)

Rated: Everyone

(N/a.)
25-minute read

She’d underestimated how tough the stones would be on her boots. Without the centuries of smoothing the tunnels had received by a million steps, the red rocks were razor sharp. She’d quickly learned to watch where she stepped. Even the pebbles had proven to be sharper than expected. She’s considered tearing strips off the neromph leather cloak and wrapping her boots with them in hopes the neromph leather would hold up better. She’d given up after she realized she had no way to puncture the tough skin. Instead, she climbed carefully, watching every move like a hawk. It made for very slow going. Fortunately, the mountains were rife with small life thriving in the crevices and crags and finding sustenance to supplement her provisions had not been nearly as hard as she’d expected. While the lower slopes of the mountains were rife with life to harvest, it was a well-known fact that the upper slopes were barren. Maleah was beginning to question more and more of what she’d been taught about life beyond the city tunnels the longer she was out there.
High mountain lichen flourished in the shadows cast by the jutting edges of the mountain and brought a citrus and earthy edge to her nutrition that she quickly discovered she enjoyed. It could be brewed in heated water in the mornings, or chewed through-out the day. More than once she found aidelviess, the white flowers that added a spicy sweet fragrance to that same brew and collected them all. She’d let them dry in the sun, then packed them up in her bag before continuing. No point in collecting them if they were going to rot. A few times, she’d found reisha berry bushes. The bushes were relatively picked over, but she’d collected enough.
Small rodents led her to where the water dripped over the edges of the rock in the early mornings, and equally served as meals when she had time to craft traps and wait. Twice she’d found raynard nests. She’d considered checking for eggs and quickly discarded that thought. Raynard stories were not few or far between. Long necks like their ancient cousins the dragons, and tails that waved behind them like a banner as they flew. A wingspan the length of three full-grown men and beautiful red and gold plumage accented by the razor sharp black feathers along the edge of their wings. Most deterring to entering the nest were the stories that they had eyesight that could spot a mouse at the base of the mountain from their nests near the peak. The nest may have appeared to be empty, but she had no doubt that the mountain natives were circling far above and would have dropped faster than she could have escaped.
Now as evening settled over the mountain again, Maleah leaned back against the alcove she’d taken refuge in. The sparking gem had been worth every vertex she’d paid, though at the time she’d cursed the merchant for unreasonable price gouging. Now she understood why they commanded the price they did. They sparked on the first strike, every time, in the cold, in the rain, and whether there was skill in the hand that wielded it or not. She had a feeling that the sparking gem would be the difference between survival or not in the high edges of the mountain as the air continued to nip colder and colder. Some part of her knew that it was only a matter of weeks before snow would drift down over the highest edges of the mountains. It couldn’t survive the warmth closer to Firecrown, or even closer to the heart of the mountain. But the crowns and the edges were cold enough to hold their soft white mantles. Maleah had no misconceptions that finding her way across the range would be equally as important to survival as the sparking gem.
Tonight, as usual, her eyes filled with memories around the family table as she waited for sleep to claim her entirely. They were usually brief and easy to banish. Tonight, some small voice questioned what had happened around that table the morning after she’d left. Her family would have known her intent from the circlet left in place of the dagger. She had only some idea of how they might have shared the news with the rest of the city. Her family was too well known for her absence to not be missed but city leadership would not have wanted it known that she’d departed in search of the Dragae. Perhaps they would have feigned that she’d fallen ill after her birth celebration. By now, they very well might have announced that she’d fallen to the sickness. The city would openly mourn, and she was equally certain that the whispers behind closed doors would agree it was for the best for the family.
Maleah rolled over to face away from the wind over the mountain’s shoulder as she leaned against the stone behind her, tugging the fur-lined cloak tighter over her shoulders and down over her eyes as she searched for sleep.

The valley stretched below and Maleah let herself settle on the edge of the cliff, feet dangling as she looked down, trying not to think about how she would get down the cliff to cross the valley floor. The good news was, the vale itself was relatively smooth, no wild ravines to summit, and it connected one mountain to the next without having to descend all the way to the continent base far below. At least, she didn’t think it was the continent’s base. The existence of greenery seemed to indicate that it was not frequently subject to the fire flows that marked the paths between the mountains in the Firestorms. The former Duotran had slowly but steadily worked her way further northeast, heading closer to the Firecrown step-by-step and cautious to stay as high on the shoulders of the mountains as possible to avoid risking the flowing molten rock that often surged between the mountains. It had proven quite challenging and she’d found herself, more than once, wishing she’d thought to bring charcoal and parchment to draw maps of the range.
Range cartography was not expressly forbidden in Duotro, few things were, but hardly anyone in memorable history had even left the mountain and the art of mapmaking had not been practiced in Duotro for centuries. The broad maps of the continent brought by the merchants served as templates for the decorations carved into the temple walls but all they showed was the Firestorm’s dominance over the northeast corner of the known lands. Maleah had scoured the temple records for maps of the range. It was the cleric who advised her that she might have more luck among the city archives. An action that should have been simple as the daughter of El Edil since he worked there every day. Her father had awarded her with such a look of disbelief and disappointed the one time she’d asked that she’d never dared broach the subject again.
She wished she’d been more persistent. A map might have eliminated so many of the false starts she’d found herself facing over the past few weeks. Too often she’d climbed up or down a path only to find herself at an impasse, having to retreat to find another way forward. She was fairly certain that a map would have given her a better idea of how long the journey would take. In all of her dreaming, it had taken only days to mount the range and return on the back of a glorious dragon. In reality, it had taken nearly an entire cycle of the moon to cross only two of the peaks. Firecrown still towered far away, its molten edges glowing between the dark ridges of its smaller subjects at night. Where the mountain range covered only the span of three hands on the map of the continent, the past cycle of the moon had taught her that the maps were not comparable to the reality of the rugged terrain.
Staring down at the plateau, her eyes were drawn to the leeward side of the trees. From here, they appeared to offer respite and shelter and Maleah once again considered the thought of settling to build a temporary home. Not for long, but long enough to collect food and replenish her stores. Long enough to figure out how to replace the boots that were nearly falling off her feet already. Long enough to rest. The constant aches of her limbs had slowly faded as she’d continued her push into the range but there was a draw to the thought of rest that she hadn’t realized was growing.
Decision made, she turned her eyes to the cliff, searching for some path downward. A flash of a shadow blocked the sun for the briefest of moments and Maleah lifted her head to catch sight of whatever it might be. Her feet knocked loose a cascade of pebbles in her flurry to scramble to her feet and back away. Overhead, a deep red Zor had noticed the movement and circled lazily over the valley, one eye pinned on the intruder, equal parts curious and wary. The massive winged horse was truly a thing of legends. Though the Zor were crafted by one of the lesser gods rather than MaKar, and therefore not fully-fledged members of the Races, they were still a force to be reckoned with. Similar to the Faerie, the Zor were masters of the sky. Their magic allowing them to part the air around them to achieve unnatural speeds of flight and, if legends were true, establish a linc between themselves and their riders.
A lone, red horse had been seen on the plains outside the mountains by the last round of merchants to arrive with goods from the south for trading. The rumors had sparked around the city almost instantly. They always did. Most of the equines of the plains roamed in herds. It was their nature. A single animal was not long for survival. It was only natural to assume an individual was otherworldly. Arianna had scoffed at Maleah’s excitedly declared intent to find and befriend the animal so it could carry her to Firecrown. Her father had expressly forbidden her from leaving the city. Maleah had pouted, certain they were holding her back once again. Now, she wasn’t so certain that the spotted animal had been magical. Those wings, glinting with fire in the sun, were massive. The thought of them being retracted entirely into its shoulders seemed laughable. Magic or not.
The beast banked closer to the cliff's edge to get a better look and Maleah caught her breath as the sun flashed over razor sharp hooves and a furious glint to its eyes. Beyond the stories of creation, the Zor were primarily known for their role in the Faerie’s Cavalia - the fighting force of the sky that had leveled massive quantities of the continent during the Magical Mala. They were vicious fighters with a talent for destruction. Maleah could only hope her existence in this remote corner of the range would not trigger an attack. She slowly backed away, holding her hands out in the universal sign of peace. The great animal circled a few more times, alternating eyes watching her as he changed sides through the air. Concern abated it seemed, he tossed his head, diving down and away with a flash of massive wings. Maleah wasn’t certain how, but the next thing she could process, she was sitting on the ground, her rear end stinging from absorbing the impact that followed the sudden collapse of her legs. The Races hadn’t been seen since The Time of Renewal began, more than two thousand years ago. Despite her brags to her family, she’d assumed the Zor had passed into the mists of time with them. She clenched her fingers together tightly to halt the trembling.
Logically, it made sense that the creatures birthed of the Firestorm mountains would stay closer to the heart of the range where humans couldn’t travel. Maleah would proceed with extreme caution from here on out.

The valley floor stretched endlessly away from the treeline. It was more flush with life than she’d thought possible on the high slopes. Grass waved across the plain and signs of animal life were abundant. It was a surprising amount of green after days among the red and black of the Firestorms. The mountains themselves refused to be forgotten entirely as they jutted up in the backdrop. Massive boulders and splits in the ground across the valley, unnoticeable from her vantage point of the cliff above, but unmissable from here on the ground, also kept the harshness of the land surrounding them forefront in her mind. A sneaking thought rose again that it might be nice to refuge here for a while. There was certainly no rush to get to the Firecrown.
Maleah banished the thought with a harsh jerk of the rope. She’d strung it between the two trees to serve as the structure for a makeshift shelter. Makeshift being the operative word. She had not left Duotro simply to build a new life of simplicity and mediocrity high in the mountains. She bit back the surge of homesickness that had found its way into her consciousness with increasing frequency and withdrew Zane’s dagger, then turned into the forest to find the perfect place to lay a trap. There was nothing to be homesick for. There couldn’t be until she had found a dragon.
The fire crackled cheerily, lighting as much of the pressing darkness as possible with it’s small heart. The mountain behind her was backlit by the glow of Firecrown. Maleah studiously ignored it tonight, focusing her attention on the slow turn of the makeshift spit that was roasting the waterfowl she’d taken down with a well-aimed rock. She’d been surprised to find an actual lake under the overhang of the cliffs. She hadn’t seen it from overhead, but it was tranquil and absolutely teaming with life. The bird that now served as her dinner had made the mistake of landing too near the water’s edge where Maleah had crouched in the reeds for what felt like a full krell at least. It had paid off. She had feathers that she’d carefully preserved, and what would easily be a full meal's worth of meat for the first time in over a month. Once again the thought rose to stay in the meadow.
This time it was accompanied by the argument that she could use the meadow as a homebase while she explored paths forward among the mountains. It could serve as a place of respite while she discovered a path to Firecrown, and a process to avoid burning alive in the heat of pure magic. Maleah poked the bird to test its doneness. It sounded like a good argument on the surface. And it brought the same sense of trapped finiteness that made the thought of taking an apprenticeship in Duotro so unbearable. Only here, no one would tell her stories regardless. If she never returned to the city in the mountain, no one would tell her stories regardless.
Maleah glanced up. Overhead, where the night sky peaked out between clouds and mountain tops, stars twinkled. The pale blue orbit of Galea, queen of the night sky, hovered under the blank space Silene typically filled. The night sky goddess was in her night of renewal. It was the night that all the stars shone brightest and Galea, right-hand to the goddess herself, reigned in peace. The vast, open feel of the night sky had been disconcerting the first few nights. Maleah was, at best, used to seeing the stars through the frame of the windows that peaked out of the mountains, and they were few and far between. Now, she found it comforting. Part of her had always questioned why her people still counted time by Silene’s renewals when they had not lived under the night sky for centuries. Now she understood the allure and the draw that sky held.
A shadow passed across the stars again and Maleah tensed. She hadn’t considered the appearance of the Zor when she’d built her fire. She had no way to put it out easily. If the Zor was coming back for an attack, she had no real escape. The winged beast banked once again over the valley. Its dark shape was terrifyingly large as it swooped lower, blocking the starlight. Maleah fought the temptation to lower her head and wait for the attack. Instead she forced herself to keep her head lifted, eyes following the creature as it soared. She could face it at the very least.
The animal once again seemed to consider her cautiously, then turned and with a heavy beat of its wings, once again sped away towards the northeast. Maleah sagged against the ground. Realizing all at once exactly how exhausted she was. She began the arduous process of banking the fire for the night, then crawled towards her shelter under the trees. Once there, she tugged the fur-trimmed cloak over her entirely, letting sleep embrace her entirely.

She’d used Zane’s dagger to cut strips from the cloak to turn into boots. Her attempts at tanning the fur of the rodents she’d trapped in the mountains had not gone well. The fur either rotted, or dried too stiff. She’d tried drying it in the shape of boots, hoping the stiffness would hold up against the rocks. It only rubbed her feet raw. She’d finally settled for cutting strips from the cloak to wrap around her feet and ankles in a similar fashion to the neromph-skin boots the merchants swore were all-the-rage in the Lorn plains. She was almost embarrassed to realize that it had taken more than a few days before she even thought to use the dagger to cut the incredibly tough leather. She’d also realized, only recently, that the dagger was helpful for skinning the animals that gave her sustenance, and when tied to a long pole, could be used as a spear of sorts for hunting.
It felt strange beyond belief. There weren’t many daggers or blades among the civilized nations. The few that did exist were decorative only. Maleah’s family was blessed to be allowed to keep Zane’s dagger. She was certain that her theft would have sparked a collection of any other decorative blades that might have been displayed throughout the city. Blades were for display only. Thinking back, she couldn’t exactly determine what prompted her to swap the coronet for the blade beyond seeking a closeness to her ancestor. Now, she was glad she had. She hadn’t seen the Zor since that first night by the fire. But she took comfort in the knowledge she had a weapon if it chose to return. She would not go down without a fight.
Maleah turned over the feathers from the waterfowl she’d brought down a few times. She wasn’t certain what she wanted to do with them. If the cold winds from the Wilderlands were capable of penetrating this deep into the range, she might have used them to further insulate the clothing and cloak. Here, though the night air might pick up a nip, the winter weather that raged across Haviar was held at bay by the proximity to Firecrown’s direct channel to the core of Haviar and the magic that kept her alive. No, they would serve no use there but some part of Maleah was reluctant to discard them. And another failed to see what to do to make keeping them useful. Once again, she bundled them up and returned them to her pack. The pack itself was staying quite full. Despite the fact that nearly all of her original provisions had been eaten, Maleah had taken advantage of the vale to rebuild her store. Her dried meat wasn’t nearly as flavorful as the meat she’d purchased from the merchants, nor did she have as wide a variety of sun-dried flora, but she was nowhere near starving. She fought admitting it at first, but Maleah was quite proud of the collection she’d amassed.
Not enough to get to Firecrown. The niggling voice in her head reminded her and Maleah tried to brush it aside, retrieving the long branch she’d been working on carving into a stick to aid her travels. She couldn’t expect it to be enough to get to Firecrown. It might be if you could tame that Zor. That thought sent shivers down her spin and Maleah focused on the staff in her hand, the dagger stripping down the knobs and edges to leave it smooth and strong. She’d considered the thought more than once. But pushed it aside every time. Besides, the Zor hadn’t returned. She had a feeling that it was as keen to avoid her as she was to avoid it.
The air around her shifted and picked up and Maleah glanced up, her eyes searching for sight of a storm. They weren’t common among the Firestorms, but that didn’t mean they were impossible. What she saw instead was equally chilling. Three Zor burst from behind the largest peak ahead and they were heading straight for the valley floor.
They formed a triangle as they headed for her. At the peak of the point, the dark red animal she’d seen twice before led the way. His mane and tail rippled and were edged with flames of gold in the sun. His wings still rimmed with fire. His legs were tucked under him as before, but the long hairs that flowed around those sharp hooves still appeared to catch and reflect the sun in a million directions, lending the sight of fire here as well. To his left, the next animal was nearly black. Only the sun along its flanks and mane gave any hint of the expected red that denoted the Firestorm Zor lines. This one had the same bulging muscles and massive limbs as his counterpart. An animal built for war. The last one boasted thinner lines, a more petite frame, and a terrifyingly intense gaze. Thinner legs seemed designed to strike harder and more fiercely. She, assuming it was a she, was a brighter red than either of the other two, almost bordering on gold.
Most terrifying of the entire scene were the three riders perched on their backs. They were not citizens of Duotro. All three were clad similarly. Colorful leather and cottons wrapped around them, from chin to wrist. Their feet sported leather wrapped in a similar fashion to Maleah’s hastily fabricated boots, but with an edge of refinement that Maleah’s were lacking. Across their chests, shoulders and thighs, chainmail gave an edge of war that could not be ignored. It was not the decorative chainmail that the Cleric wore in his weekly address. This was a range of rings and leave-style points overlapping and flowing together with their movement in a way that mimicked fabric. This mail was built to protect its wearer. Maleah barely had time to rise to her feet, one hand gripping her staff, the other holding Zane’s dagger defensively pointed towards the newcomers. The animals landed almost as one, running a few steps with the momentum of their flight before coming to a stop. The riders dismounted fluidly before their mounts completely halted. As they did so, Maleah noticed, with a sinking heart, the swords strapped to their hips, daggers on their thighs, and bows across their backs. Her dagger would be as useful as a dustpan with holes.
“Who are you?”
The leader’s voice was clear and high and Maleah’s eyes were drawn to her face. Her face. That was startling to realize. Maleah had been so caught up realizing that everything she’d feared was about to happen, then confused by the fact that the Zor boasted riders, that she hadn’t noticed who the riders were. Now she took a breath to scan the riders themselves.
Two women and a man stood before her. None of them had drawn their weapons. They were not threatened by some intruder with a dagger and a poorly fashioned staff. The man and woman flanking the leader were both edged with hardness. Their eyes were like stone. The woman’s hair fell in a mass of black curls over her shoulders that reminded Maleah of her own. Her skin was darkly tanned in a way that Maleah could guess would happen with more exposure to the sun. Only a few days in Hemeah’s glory had turned Maleah’s exposed skin red and sensitive. That had slowly faded to an amber-kissed glow that was amplified on the warrior’s face and hands. Her eyes were a deep green marked with streaks of red that brought a surge of homesickness. They reminded Maleah of Mother’s.
The man was taller than either of the women. His head shaved close, though the stubble spoke of dark hair. His chin was touched with the same stubble that covered his head. His cheekbones were angular under grey eyes that hadn’t moved from Maleah from the instant his feet had touched the ground. Where the women were armed with bows in addition to the blades strapped across their bodies, he held a spear who’s edge extended from the tip down one side of the shaft in a way that reminded Maleah of the axes used to split stone.
It was the leader, still impatiently waiting for a response for Maleah that the young girl reluctantly turned her eyes to next. She’d realized instinctively that the leader was not human but until she looked at the red-maned fighter before her, Maleah had avoided facing that reality. She was the shortest of the trio by a head at least. Her bone structure was petite. In fact, everything about her spoke of a lightness and airiness that was unnatural. Her golden hair rippled in the air around her, despite the lack of a breeze. A long braid ran across the top to hold it back from her face, and from the tell-tale pointed ears that denoted a Faerie lineage. She lacked the tell-tale blue skin Maleah had been taught to search for, perhaps it had been lost in the exposure to the sun or the heat of the mountains, but there was no mistaking the lost warring Race.
“If you will not answer who you are, you will answer what you are doing here.” It was not a request, it was an order. Spat sharply by one who was not familiar with orders being disregarded.
Maleah shook her head to drive away the cobwebs clouding her. Something told her instinctively to lower the weapons. They would do her little good here anyhow. “I apologize. I-” She searched for the right words, her voice crusty with disuse. “I have seen no one since I left Duotro. I did not expect-.” She faded, uncertain what exactly she had been found by or how to describe it.
“And what are you doing here?” The faerie’s voice was marginally less irate, though no ounce of kindness had found its way to her face or tone.
“I’ve come to renew the relationship between the humans and the Dragae.” Maleah wasn’t certain where the response came from. She hadn’t thought through what to do on the off chance she encountered someone in the mountains. The mountains were entirely inhospitable. No one lived further Northest than the Duotrans. Maleah quickly added that to the list of tales she’d once been told that she was beginning to question.
Her response had sparked humor in the trio as they exchanged glances. It didn’t seem to be a friendly laugh shared among them.
“Your people sent you into the mountains with nothing but a single pack and a dagger to undertake such a great task?” The faerie seemed amused, “Perhaps we have given the cowards of the mountain less credit than they are due.”
“My people are not cowards.” The insult sparked an immediate resistance in Maleah and she fought to tame the sharpness in her voice as she noticed the man’s grip tighten on his spear. Knowing what she had to say next did much to deflate the anger. “But they did not send me. I have come of my own accord.”
“They are too frightened to venture into the mountains they call home. Their only emissary to the range in centuries is a young woman who is inadequately armed and equipped.” The Faerie pursed her lips. “I fail to see how they do not fit the bill.” She shrugged that aside, “Go back to your people young-one. You will never make it to Firecrown, much less rouse the Dragae.”
She turned back towards the waiting Zors and Maleah realized in an instant that the party would leave. “Wait.” The Faerie glanced over her shoulder and her two companions half-turned back towards the girl. “I could make it if you would help me.”
That deeply amused the woman. “Why would we do that?”
“Why-.” Maleah found herself at a loss. Why would they do that? Her goal of personal glory would hardly inspire them. She leaned instead on another truth. “Because I will not turn back. I cannot. I cannot return without the Dragae. I will continue forward until I find them or die. If I die, it is on your hands.”
The Faerie did not seem concerned, “The humans never cared when my people died because of them. Why should this concern me?”
Maleah glanced up to find the eyes of the humans on her, more curious than the disattached Faerie who led them. “Because you live side-by-side with humans. If you want to pretend you do not care, you would be a poor companion.”
The Faerie glanced at her companions, seeking confirmation of Maleah’s words, then slowly turned back towards the girl. “Even if we took you to the Crown, you will never wake the Dragae. Better than you have tried. They will not leave their slumber till MaKar returns and balance returns to Haviar.”
There was something about the faerie’s voice that rang truthful but Maleah simply shrugged it aside, “If that’s the case, what do you lose by taking me there? Bring me there and abandon me to my foolishness if you so desire.”
That sparked a real note of amusement in the faerie, though Maleah wasn’t sure if it was at the thought of her dying, or the refusal to give up her goal. The trio exchanged a multitude of conversation in a glance and the Faerie finally shrugged. “My counterparts seem to think you’re worth the effort.” She strode towards the red stallion who stood imperiously behind her. “Come along.”
Maleah was gathering her things and shoving them into her bag before she could think twice. It took only a few seconds and she turned back towards the waiting trio, tying the bag over her shoulder and fastening the waist strap to hold it stable as she crossed. The human on the golden-red mare maneuvered herself forward and held a hand down to help Maleah mount up. The young girl was grateful for the assist as she realized she never would have made it onto the Zor’s back without it.
“I am Rineah.” The woman glanced over her shoulder at her passenger and Maleah flashed a grateful smile as she pulled herself close to hold on to the experienced rider.
“Maleah.”
The woman smiled slightly. “You are descended of Zane.”
It was not a question and Maleah’s surprise as the announcement was overcome by the sudden plunge of the Zor forward and up into the sky. The air seemed to part around them, lifting the wings of the great animals further into the sky, and Maleah did her best to hang on. The trio leveled out, but the wind between them was too great and Maleah settled for simply hanging on, certain that a fall would be the end that the faerie seemed so keen to find for her.
The Zors never entirely topped the range. Maleah could guess that it was as much from an effort to avoid being seen by those outside the range as it was to avoid the buffeting winds that would have no jutting rock to slow their speed. Instead, they wound between the peaks and Maleah slowly found herself gaining courage to glance around at the passing landscape. Ahead, Firecrown grew closer at an incredible speed. More than one vale, similar to the one she’d called home for the past few weeks, dotted the landscape. They brought a sense of peacefulness to the harsh landscape.
Signs of human settlement in more than one raised a sense of marvel and intrigue as Maleah wracked her brain for any hint that humanity had settled beyond the outskirts of the range in the endless books she’d scoured. There were none and something told the young woman that this was not an accidental oversight by the historians. Here and there, a figure moved and reflected the sunlight off reds and golds that spoke of more Zor. They were often accompanied by a humanoid figure or two, though Maleah passed too quickly and too far away to gather more details. More intriguingly were the incredible, graceful structures that sprouted from the rocks of the mountains shoulders and peaks to jut gracefully out into the air. Structures that only the Race of the air could call home. Massive archways stood as entrances and in more than one, Maleah caught the curious eyes of both Zor and Faerie watching the passing trio with intrigue.

The Firecrown towers over the Firestorm range with the Firestorm faerie homes jutting out from the cliffs

Firecrown had grown large enough to consume the sky before them. That and the pace with which the landscape passed below were the only indicators of the speed of the Zors and the distance that Maleah had undertaken to travel on foot. The beasts worked together to, mostly, part the air around them and drive it under their wings rather than against their chests or riders. Enough wind still whipped around them to exhilarate and inspire and Maleah took a deep breath, waiting for the feel of magic burning in her lungs to begin.
There was a definite feel of magic here. The spicy cool flavor of the air was the same scent that led the genii hunters through the city in search of wishes to trade with the Merchants for goods. It was easily ten times more intense. Contrary to the smoke and flavor of the genii however, this did not burn. There was a definite sense that it was dangerous. That it could consume you. But the pain was absent entirely and Maleah allowed herself to breathe in, holding the scent in her lungs until she thought she’d burst.
Careful. The voice in her head surprised her and Maleah glanced up to find the Zor she rode on looking back around Rineah with one eye, clearly the voice she’d heard. You are not meant to hold much magic. You’ll burn and not even know it. The zor straightened her head again and Maleah fought additional surprise as she questioned whether this was a full linc or partial. Somehow, Maleah knew immediately that the zor was amused at that thought. The linc simply is. You can choose how much to share.
You can hear me? Maleah wasn’t certain exactly how to direct her thoughts to the animal below, but she didn’t seem to need to try.
Whatever you want me to hear, yes.
How have humans, Faerie and Zor come to live side-by-side? Amusement touched the corners of Maleah’s mind and she somehow knew it was the Zor’s.
Centuries. Since the fall of the Alliances and the disappearance of the Faerie Namoah. Humanity arrived after the Dragae fell into sleep. We have existed together since.
Why does the faerie seem to think I will be unable to awaken the dragons?
If the zor could have shrugged, she would have. She has tried and so have many others. The Dragae are MaKar’s messengers on earth. They could draw him back and return balance to the crust but without balance, they cannot awaken.
I can’t go back to Duotro without the Dragae. Maleah knew her voice, even in her mind, was etched with panic.
Then stay with your people. The response was unenthused, unconcerned.
My people? The question was natural, but Maleah had some sense of the answer that was coming.
You are descended of Zane, yes? Maleah sent a wave of affirmation towards the zor and the animal continued. These are the descendants of Zane and his people. They were the intermediary between the Dragae and the People before the people shunned the Dragae.
The Dragae became greedy. We did not shun them, they chose a path of darkness.
If that’s the truth, why do you want to rouse them?
Maleah had no time to answer as the trio landed on the edge of a massive cavern. Up ahead, the walls crackled with red sparks. The rock might have, at one time, been the same red of the mountains near the rim of the range. Now it was scorched black. The magic here was intense. It brought with it a sense of knowing. A sense of clarity. She had always known what she’d known. Till now, she’d never glimpsed how wide the darkness was of what she did not know. The magic gave her a glance and it was disconcerting.
The four riders swung down to the ground and Maleah glanced from her counterparts to the winding path forward into the heart of the mountain. It stretched like the mouth of some great beast, calling her and it was lit by more of the red sparks that spoke of the magic that infused the air around them. The zor was right. It would consume her.
“The dragons slumber ahead.” The faerie’s voice was dark. “Wake them if you can.”
Maleah hesitated as she gazed down the tunnel. There was truth in the woman’s voice that she could not argue. She noticed how the humans hung back. Their breathing shallow as they avoided infusing themselves with the magic that crackled around the stone.
She traced her steps back to the trio at the mouth of the cavern. “When I lived in Duotro, I studied the libraries of the temple to better understand the Dragae and the range.” She glanced out the mouth of the cave to look at the range spreading before her. The jagged peaks that were home to so many lives she’d never guessed. “I am starting to realize that I don’t know nearly enough.” She took a deep breath, feeling the heat of the magic finding its way into her lungs, her hands and feet tingling as it illuminated her far extremities. “I will wake the Dragae so they can recall MaKar and bring balance to the crust. But,” she hesitated, “You are right that I am young, and ill-prepared.” The faerie arched a brow and Maleah dropped her gaze to the ground at their feet. “Will you help me learn?”
The faerie glanced at the two humans waiting at the furthest reach of the ledge and the woman stepped forward, her eyes alight on Maleah. “If you truly want to learn, we will teach you.”
Maleah could not withhold the smile. It took only seconds for the trio to return to their mounts and, with a final glance over her shoulder at the gaping path that led to the heart of the world, they launched into the air.

©2023 - Stephanie Dupre
This work may not be reproduced anywhere without express permission of the author.

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Lost in the Wreaths of Time

An exploration of the people of Duotro and the Firestorm Mountains