Dragons of Summer Tide (The Dragons of Hwandor) (29 page)

“Not as long as we have our bows,” Answered the voice. We still will have our answers.”

Jolss was chanting under his breath and though he and Prin were still a bit weak he could feel the magic pulsing. As his mind finally cleared and settled into a state of peace he let a cantrip go into the trees around the companions. Suddenly the sound of four bowstrings letting go could be heard followed by a cry of pain from the left of the companions. Veer moved with nearly inhuman speed and darted into the trees and tackled someone right away. Drace ran just behind Veer.

“I have one of them,” called Veer from a short distance in the brush. “Do I kill him yet?”

“No, just hold him,” answered Cyerant.

“Easy enough done,” said Veer. “When his bowstring let go the bow hit him pretty hard.”

“You have a mage?” asked the voice. “Humans have not had any real mages in generations.”

“Are you not human?” Cyerant asked.

“No, this definitely isn’t human,” answered Veer from the brush.

“They’re elves,” Shira said. “They have to be.”

Cyerant nodded and then said. “So now your bows are unstrung and we have one of you prisoner… So let me see what an elf looks like.”

Quietly an elf stepped out of the brush a few feet in front of Cyerant; he just seemed to separate from the surrounding forest. The elf was wearing greyish green clothing and he was just over five feet tall. He carried in his hand an unstrung bow. His hair was so blond that is was nearly white and he had very pale almost translucent skin on his face. His features were angular and delicate looking and there was a cut on his cheek from where his bow had struck him when the string let go. But his blue eyes looked like steel. “Who are you?” The elf asked.

The companions stood speechless for a moment until Shira broke the silence. “I am Shira, Shiradane Koraston…”

She was cut off as the elf turned quickly toward her and asked. “Did you say Shiradane?”

“Yes, my mother named me that just before she died when I was born. My da told me that it came from her father.”

“Was you mother’s name Ulistrial?” asked the elf.

“Yes, did you know her?”

“No, but her father, your grandfather was my distant cousin. Shiradane, your first name, is actually our family name. We say our family name first in giving our names and so your mother gave you that to show your heritage.”

Another elf, a woman, stepped from the forest and walked up to Shira. The elf touched Shira’s cheek and whispered. “You have Talyar’s eyes – my brother’s eyes.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Shira.

The male elf spoke while the woman continued to look into Shira’s eyes. “Her brother, my cousin, left the Elven Home valleys thirty five summers ago. We never saw him again. There was a rumour that he had fallen in love with a human girl and that they had a daughter named Ulistrial. I guess that was true. We felt it when he died and assumed that some human had murdered him.

“It was an accident that killed him two years before I was born,” Said Shira

Just then Veer came back through the brush carrying another elf over his shoulder. In his other hand he carried his own long bow and the more delicate looking bow of the elf. “You’re an elf,” he said looking at Shira.

“Part elf,” Shira responded almost in a whisper.

“So nobody is going to kill anybody,” Cyerant said. “You have an injured man and a cut on your face and some bowstrings to repair. And we need to talk about dragons, elves and family reunions. So let’s all find a place to sit and we can have a meal and tend to what needs tending and discuss what needs discussing.”

The male elf turned toward Cyerant and asked. “Do you always have a plan for everyone?”

“Yes he does,” said Veer. “Irritating habit but he is usually right.”

The male elf yelled into the forest. “Talyat, come in.” Then turning back to Cyerant he spoke. “There, on your friend’s shoulder is Karadane Pelinar, coming in from the forest is Shiradane Talyat. My cousin here is Shiratell Ulistrial. And I am Shiradane Myalnar.

Cyerant looked quizzically and asked. “Is her name different because she is a woman?

Myalnar answered. “Yes and no, elven names are complicated. What you hear first tells you the family; three of us are Shira family. Next you hear what valley we live in, three of us live in the Dane valley and Ulistrial has moved to the Tell valley. Our individual names end in ‘al’ for most women and ‘ar’ for most men. And the ‘at’ ending is for those who are neither men nor women.

“Are there other name endings?” Asked Veer.

“Yes, there are,” answered Myalnar. Several more, in fact. As I said elves are complicated, and we have middle names which change according to age, rank and history. To know an elf’s full name is to know a great deal about that person.

Veer finally put the elf that he was carrying on the ground and quickly introduced himself and then Cyerant introduced himself and his brother Daralce.

A short time later the party had returned to check on their horses. And they made a small fire near the clearing where they let the horses graze. The companions started by telling the story of how they came to meet and to bond with dragons.

Myalnar listened to every detail intently and said. “So more humans and dragons are bonding. This will bear much consideration. To be sure there have always been a few of your kind in the mountains who occasionally bond with a dragon. It happens from time to time and as long as the dragon is bonded of its own free will we do not interfere. But if the dragon is forced or someone tries to force a dragon to bond then we elves will act.”

“What do you mean forcing the dragon?” Asked Shira. “Do elves ever bond with dragons?”

Myalnar looked at the girl. “No, elves do not bond with dragons. Of all of the ancient races only humans bond with dragons. The orcs did not and neither does the goblin race. Elves and dwarves also never bonded dragons. You do not know much about dragon lore.”

“No, only the stories in the dragon book,” said Jolss.

Myalnar stood and addressed Cyerant. “It will soon be nightfall, your tale has taken the afternoon to share. My companions will remain here with you for now. I, as a member of the High Council must tell the others what we have found out. I will return just after sundown and I will tell you what we have decided.”

Cyerant watched the elf vanish into the forest. “Surely he can’t visit those secret valleys and be back here so quickly.”

“His voice will be heard by the High Council and their voices shall come to his ears.” Responded one of the other elves.

Ulistrial spoke. “We will prepare the camp and a meal and then Talyat can tell if Talyat wishes to tell.”

“Tell what?” asked Veer.

“Whatever Talyat wishes to tell.” Answered the elf Pelinar. “Talyat is the tale teller and decides which blessing to share.”

The elf Talyat spoke in a soft but intense voice. “I am a teller of tales a
Shawnacky
in our language. With each tale comes a blessing to those who listen with quiet respect. A tale properly told is a prayer and so it is a blessing. We will make our camp ready for the coming night and then I will tell.”

In the next hour Shira took a deer and with the help of the elf Pelinar she soon had it cleaned and roasting over a fire. Cyerant and Veer along with the other two elves gathered enough wood for the night. With autumn starting to touch the air the night would bring a chill as the cold air rolled down through the low hills on the south side of the Dragon Mountains. Jolss happily sat with Prin and used the last rays of the afternoon to read his books. Before the sun had completely disappeared the camp was set up and the work was done with nothing left to do but to let the deer roast and pots boil. The companions sat near the fire with the elves. The humans felt tired from a long day but the elves seemed to show no sign of tiredness. The company would listen well into the night eating their meals quietly as a tale was woven into their minds.

Talyat’s voice rang out with a strong presence though it was soft. A strange voice, it at once sounded as if it were being spoken next to you and yet also as if it were a distant echo of long ago. The voice sounded male and female and young and old, it came as a whisper and a roar. All these at once and it caressed the mind and took the imagination by hand and led it far away. There was a rhythm to the speaking; a steady pulse, like a single heart beating for everyone at once.

“A thousand and one hundred summers before us; before our memories. There were the same waves but they broke upon a different shore. The same whistling winds but they blew around mountains that were taller and sharper. The water that fell upon the mountains has long since found itself becoming the sea and the water of the sea has long since found itself falling on mountains. None know the generations of the rains but there have passed twenty eight generations of humans, eight generations of dwarves and four generations of elves. Trees, such long lived creatures do not remember those days. For this to pass from living memory was a blessing – seeing it brought madness to many. Even trees were driven to madness by the horrors of those days.”

“A human life begins and passes in the time of an elven childhood – for humans and goblins are the shortest lived of all of the races. The oldest of humans would still be a child among the elves and barely touching adulthood among dwarves. Wisdom rides the words of our elders but humans live such a short time that they have no true elders. High councils guide us with the wisdom of those who have seen centuries. However, where wisdom is wanting, lusts will guide. Lusts for riches, for food, for power, position and for one another drive humans – lusts that are embodied in kings and emperors. Guided by desires and ruled by the most lustful among them humans are driven to compete among themselves and among their nations. With lusts comes impatience and so the people of the human world hurry toward all things and desires.”

“It is not ours to question the wisdom of the gods but we must wonder at some of the things wrought by them in the making of the world and the birthing of the races. One is left to wonder that the wiser races are given magics but no command of magic. Our magics are inborn and innate but there are no mages among us. Only humans can command magic in its elemental forms. Perhaps this gift was given in order to make up for the shortness of days but it remains a confusion that this power lives where wisdom lacks.  We must also wonder that the ability to bond with such magnificent creatures, as are dragons, is a gift solely spent on humans. A dragon bonds for the short span of human days and then when the human passes the dragon is free and wild again. Perhaps this is a reward to the dragons from the gods and they will only bond for a few years instead of the centuries spanned by the other races. 

There was in that time a great and fertile plain south of the Elder Mountains where dwell now the wild dragons. From the mountains to the sea there were great farmlands cut by many rivers and these lands could feed countless people of all races. If left in peace these lands could sustain all in happiness. These great farmlands were claimed by a kingdom on the east and an empire on the west. Kingdoms and empires are the creations of humans and so they poured war out upon one another and they tore these fields with armies instead of ploughs. As they warred they took with them into battle their trusting and innocent dragons and so along with the blood of humans the blood of many dragons was given to the land to drink. Because humans claimed the land and would so easily kill for it they turned first upon the other races. The elves in our respect for life withdrew into the secret valleys of the elder mountains and the dwarves withdrew into their halls beneath those same mountains. The humans were left to fight and to die and to kill and to destroy and in their lust for destruction they drove some dragons to the same deaths with which the armies served one another.

One piece of wisdom at least, was to be found in the choice of the gods to make humans and dragons bond-mates. It was rare that these bonds formed and so there were never very many dragons to be spent in human wars. A dragon and a human both had to enter the bond by free will and few dragons were willing to enter such a bond with a human. Many dragons roamed wild on the plains and in the forest but especially in the Elder Mountains. Until abominations were committed, first by the humans of the empire in the west and later by the armies of the kingdom in the east. A way was found to force a dragon to bond with a human even if it were against the will of the dragon.

A great capturing began and humans became accomplished at finding and capturing dragons. Soon the dragons of the plains and forests were no more and the dragons of the seas inhabited only distant islands. After a generation dragons could only be found in the Elder Mountains. Soon humans started to hunt in the Elder Mountains and capture the dragons there. The elves were pushed farther and farther back into the interior valleys of the mountain range; into the further valleys which we inhabit now. The dwarves helped to collapse the passes so that humans could not find these secret valleys where the elves and a few dragons would be safe.

Where once there had never been more than a few dragons used on any battlefield of human kind there were now armies of dragon bonded. Thousands of dragons were thrown into the wars of humans and these beautiful creatures were treated as property and wasted on the lust for power and possession. The once fertile plains became a desolate and massive wasteland swept by the fires and winds of magic unleashed. Where other races had sown seeds of grain in fields of plenty, the humans now sowed seeds of war in fields of death.  A dessert churned by the feet of armies. Cairns of bones marked where dragons fell as faithful companions to evil men while streams and rivers flowed with blood. Human rage was rending the world.