Amica knew she had gone through T’kil’s portal though there had been no sign of her lover. His spell had pulled the ship through the Aether with no more effort than a child pulls a toy horse and with about the same grace. Chaos and carnage accompanied the move across time and space. She sensed deaths with each passing burn. Even now, when her passage through the portal had ended, she felt them; souls being snuffed one by one, erased like a spirit’s dream.
She was not awake she realized, but she knew the magic had been exhausted. Dyrr, T’kil’s rune to transport the ship, had served its purpose cruelly. Magnified by the distortion of the Aether, the magic had blown through the mighty Scillus and its crew with the force of ten thousand dragons it seemed. Yet she knew she was alive.
But she did not know yet where she was. Where had T’kil taken them? Opening her eyes she was confused and was forced to close them again. T’kil would not have taken them to this place her mind told her. In all the desert, the last place T’kil would have chosen for the ship’s destination was here.
“No,†said a familiar voice softly into her ear. It was warm, like honey, and filled her with a sense of longing for a feeling she had known not so long ago.
“He did not take you here,†continued the voice of the Peshawgo. Amica lay on the bank of the massive river where the man-dragon had taken her to show her his true form. Her head rested on her companion’s lap. He was in man form. Stroking her hair gently, he looked into her eyes and smiled.
“I did.â€
----------------------------------
She had walked the World of Spirits many times in her short life. She had first walked the Spirit World as a confused little girl, lead through by a creature of great strength and...perhaps uncertain wisdom. Later, she would walk the Spirit World as a grown shaman, cautious and prepared in so much as any mortal could be so prepared. What she had seen...the blazing rune Dyrr...would burn into her mind as perhaps the most horrifying power she had ever known...a power that she believed had come from T'Kil. But T'Kil has not this knowledge, she knew, even as she was pulled through along with the doomed guarrdi aboard Flying Machine. No mortal she had ever known...in legend, story, or hidden, fearful whisper...had this power. To move without moving. To join with the Sprits. This sigil brings Heaven and Earth together, a door between them.
She had closed her eyes then, refusing to watch as Flying Machine was torn to shreds beneath her. She would not listen to the sounds of the Spirit World as it came to claim the lives of so many. Amica had no doubt that T'Kil must have perished in the horrifying catastrophe...as had Maverick, Jack Farrell, and Sky Captain. They would have all perished, and she would have perished, too. Only the voice floating over her now gave her to understand why she had lived where so many others had died. I live because Peshawgo wishes it, she knew. He had seen her safely through the Aether World before, even before she had learned to do so from Kelu, and he had done so once again.
And where are we now? And does he remember?
When Aeis, Dragon of Wind, had captured Peshawgo and taken him away, Amica had known the cold, horrifying dread of impending doom. She knew she must go and slay Aeis if she were to free the Peshawgo, and even were she to free the Peshawgo, she must then convince him to return to his well far beneath the hidden City of Tents. Only there could he fulfill his commitment to keep the peace between Dragon and Man...and only then could he keep the dreaded Dragon Curse away, a curse that tore and pushed at the boundaries of the Spirit World and gave Mother Desert to hate and punish all of the People. The Peshawgo should have known of his commitment to the Pact...but he had been foolish, his mind stolen by the djinni, and he had wandered away to leave Amica and her People to waste away and perish.
How many of the Dragon Kind would have us die? she thought, terrified at the idea of hunting a dragon. As a little girl, Amica had learned what all of her People had learned...that the Beast was not to be hunted. When she saw Him, she was to run...to hide...to bury herself in the sand and await death. To slay the Beast was laughably impossible...and the collected council of Elders could not stop Aeis when she came to steal away the Peshawgo. How can we stand against so many? If Peshawgo does not accept his fate, then we are doomed.
Opening hers slowly, Amica saw his curious, blue eyes gazing back at her. He had given her much of his power...taught her the strongest runes she knew...but in many ways, he knew nothing. Unless he has remembered himself, she reflected. And he had chosen to bring her here, below the City of Tents...his place, though perhaps only an illusion or a dream. Or am I here in truth? Has he returned to his Place?
Thinking quickly, Amica began to piece the past together. The truth came to her in the sigil she had seen only moments before, a symbol burned into her mind. Dyrr. If he might walk the Spirit World to move through the Waking World, then he could have returned to his Place whenever he chose...but he did not! Why? thought Amica...but the answer came to her instantly. Because he did not remember how...or why. But now he is here...and I have seen his rune, sent to bring me through as well. He has remembered.
Sitting up, Amica gazed at the Peshawgo closely. "I...see you, Peshawgo. You are returned to your Place at last. Are we not here?" Amica glanced around the cavernous subterranean chamber. She knew this place well indeed...and she knew that the corridor nearby would lead up through the buried remnants of a once-ancient society...perhaps the ancestors of the People back when Dragon and Man were united...and further upwards to the Hidden City of Tents. Locking her eyes upon the Peshawgo, she continued, her voice almost frail. "Have you...remembered your duty? Do you...remember your name?"
TI: The Pains She Will Know... (?)
Moderator: Mods
TI: The Pains She Will Know... (?)
Last edited by Amica on Fri Nov 03, 2006 7:04 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"No."
The Peshawgo replied again, simply, moving around Amica to sit beside and behind her. After a brief pause his hands sought her shoulders and he began to caress her, strong fingers sliding down her arms and fingertips brushing against her breasts... her bare arms and breasts, for the red guarrdi-style dress she had been wearing was curiously absent. Peshawgo himself was equally unclothed.
"No, my kholen, we are here in dream only, as before," he explained. "Aeis... the Dragon of Wind... prevents my physical form from leaving her place, but she cannot keep my spirit from wandering and from returning to mine. When I felt you entering the spirit world I knew I had to bring us together."
He sighed lightly, and his breath was warm and moist against her skin. "I hope you will forgive me, Amica. Once before I laid keshi-gaar upon you without asking, to bring you to this place, and afterwards I promised I would never do it again. But I thought this time was... different. You were already within reach, brought through by the shaman's gateway, and you were in danger. All I had to do was reach out my hand and pull you out of the rushing river. Besides... I needed you, Amica."
There was a certain hesitancy in the man-dragon's voice as he spoke this last, something Amica had rarely heard from the normally impulsive Peshawgo. But there was no hint of doubt in what he said next, his blue eyes narrowing: "But do not speak to me of duty. I have heard enough of duty."
The Peshawgo replied again, simply, moving around Amica to sit beside and behind her. After a brief pause his hands sought her shoulders and he began to caress her, strong fingers sliding down her arms and fingertips brushing against her breasts... her bare arms and breasts, for the red guarrdi-style dress she had been wearing was curiously absent. Peshawgo himself was equally unclothed.
"No, my kholen, we are here in dream only, as before," he explained. "Aeis... the Dragon of Wind... prevents my physical form from leaving her place, but she cannot keep my spirit from wandering and from returning to mine. When I felt you entering the spirit world I knew I had to bring us together."
He sighed lightly, and his breath was warm and moist against her skin. "I hope you will forgive me, Amica. Once before I laid keshi-gaar upon you without asking, to bring you to this place, and afterwards I promised I would never do it again. But I thought this time was... different. You were already within reach, brought through by the shaman's gateway, and you were in danger. All I had to do was reach out my hand and pull you out of the rushing river. Besides... I needed you, Amica."
There was a certain hesitancy in the man-dragon's voice as he spoke this last, something Amica had rarely heard from the normally impulsive Peshawgo. But there was no hint of doubt in what he said next, his blue eyes narrowing: "But do not speak to me of duty. I have heard enough of duty."
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
I should have seen it for dream, thought Amica, knowing Peshawgo's words to be true as she heard them. Once again, it was dream...and she was in the spirit world. Her hopes that the Peshawgo might have uncovered some new magics to bring them to his Place were dashed, but they were little more than fleeting, desperate hopes at best. Then it is dream...the Spirit World. And I have come at his calling. I have not died...and so, perhaps T'Kil has not died?
The Peshawgo had called it the Shaman's Gateway. I was wrong again? thought Amica, trying to recall. Dyrr was not summoned by Peshawgo or Aeis. Dyrr the Gateway was written by T'Kil? Such great magics, she reflected, realizing what such a power could mean. Perhaps it was for this kind of power that T'Kil was driven from the Council of Elders and sent away from the People. The power to bridge Heaven and Earth was wonderous and horrifying. Perhaps every chant, sigil, and dance among her people might call upon the powers of the spirits and the Spirit World...but Dyrr could open both ways. That which was meant to be Spirit might walk upon the Earth as man...and that which should have been of the Earth might walk among Spirit. As I have done...and as I continue to do even now.
Closing her eyes, Amica reached up to take the dragon's hand where it touched her. Illusion...but how strong this illusion can be. She drew his hand to her lips and kissed it lightly before she held his hand to her cheek, leaning her head into this and allowing her weariness and fatigue to drift away. Glancing through cracked eyes, she peered out into the waters of the imaginary cistern and the curious blue and green tiles that gave the cistern it's unique appearance.
"Oh, my Peshawgo, then we will not speak of duty. Easier we should not speak of the mountain or the river. That we do not speak of them does not make them gone...but for this time I will help you to forget instead of to remember. You are bothered..." it seemed perfectly obvious to Amica. Something was amiss with the Dragon she had come to know intimately, and it no doubt had everything to do with Aeis. "What has She done to you? What would you have me tell you?"
The Peshawgo had called it the Shaman's Gateway. I was wrong again? thought Amica, trying to recall. Dyrr was not summoned by Peshawgo or Aeis. Dyrr the Gateway was written by T'Kil? Such great magics, she reflected, realizing what such a power could mean. Perhaps it was for this kind of power that T'Kil was driven from the Council of Elders and sent away from the People. The power to bridge Heaven and Earth was wonderous and horrifying. Perhaps every chant, sigil, and dance among her people might call upon the powers of the spirits and the Spirit World...but Dyrr could open both ways. That which was meant to be Spirit might walk upon the Earth as man...and that which should have been of the Earth might walk among Spirit. As I have done...and as I continue to do even now.
Closing her eyes, Amica reached up to take the dragon's hand where it touched her. Illusion...but how strong this illusion can be. She drew his hand to her lips and kissed it lightly before she held his hand to her cheek, leaning her head into this and allowing her weariness and fatigue to drift away. Glancing through cracked eyes, she peered out into the waters of the imaginary cistern and the curious blue and green tiles that gave the cistern it's unique appearance.
"Oh, my Peshawgo, then we will not speak of duty. Easier we should not speak of the mountain or the river. That we do not speak of them does not make them gone...but for this time I will help you to forget instead of to remember. You are bothered..." it seemed perfectly obvious to Amica. Something was amiss with the Dragon she had come to know intimately, and it no doubt had everything to do with Aeis. "What has She done to you? What would you have me tell you?"
Like a mollified child, the man-dragon tangibly relaxed at Amica's words, his motions slowing to a crawl. His right arm settled to encircle her at the waist, and he allowed her to raise his left to her soft cheek, where it remained, at rest but still firm and strong.
"She has done nothing so terrible to hurt me, my kholen," he replied, calmer now. "Do not fear. The Dragon of Wind is not such a terrible host. Within her place on the mountain I have the freedom to go and do as I please, although I may not leave it. But as you can see... she has not the strength to prevent my spirit from travelling this place." He smiled triumphantly, a hint of the dragon's sharp teeth in the human's mouth becoming apparent.
"She has even taught me some things that are part of my birthright," he continued nonchalantly. "Like this, for instance..." As he trailed off, the words melded seamlessly into warm waves, lapping gently at the edges of her consciousness and tickling her ears. He leant in, his face close, and his jewel-blue eyes, fixed on hers, were roaring waterfalls, not fearsome but shockingly powerful and masculine. The hand to her skin was charged, exciting, teasing out a bubbling wellspring of desire within her which built into a surging, uncontainable tsunami as her muscles relaxed...
...and then of a sudden the glamour was removed, Peshawgo pulling away, seemingly satisfied with giving Amica a mere taste of what he had learned. "She tells me much, and much of it is at odds with what I have heard from you," he continued, neutral and seemingly unfazed by what he had just done. "About the People, and my kind... but, my kholen, there is only one thing I would ask." Again the hesitation. "The Wind Dragon told me, once, that... you..." The Peshawgo trailed off and started again. "Forgive me, Amica, but I must know. She said that you had love for another," he blurted. "Love for another man. The shaman."
There was nothing of the proud waterfall left in his eyes now. In fact, if Amica were to look closely she would see tears starting to form as he took both of her hands in his, not quite meeting her gaze. "Amica... is this true?"
"She has done nothing so terrible to hurt me, my kholen," he replied, calmer now. "Do not fear. The Dragon of Wind is not such a terrible host. Within her place on the mountain I have the freedom to go and do as I please, although I may not leave it. But as you can see... she has not the strength to prevent my spirit from travelling this place." He smiled triumphantly, a hint of the dragon's sharp teeth in the human's mouth becoming apparent.
"She has even taught me some things that are part of my birthright," he continued nonchalantly. "Like this, for instance..." As he trailed off, the words melded seamlessly into warm waves, lapping gently at the edges of her consciousness and tickling her ears. He leant in, his face close, and his jewel-blue eyes, fixed on hers, were roaring waterfalls, not fearsome but shockingly powerful and masculine. The hand to her skin was charged, exciting, teasing out a bubbling wellspring of desire within her which built into a surging, uncontainable tsunami as her muscles relaxed...
...and then of a sudden the glamour was removed, Peshawgo pulling away, seemingly satisfied with giving Amica a mere taste of what he had learned. "She tells me much, and much of it is at odds with what I have heard from you," he continued, neutral and seemingly unfazed by what he had just done. "About the People, and my kind... but, my kholen, there is only one thing I would ask." Again the hesitation. "The Wind Dragon told me, once, that... you..." The Peshawgo trailed off and started again. "Forgive me, Amica, but I must know. She said that you had love for another," he blurted. "Love for another man. The shaman."
There was nothing of the proud waterfall left in his eyes now. In fact, if Amica were to look closely she would see tears starting to form as he took both of her hands in his, not quite meeting her gaze. "Amica... is this true?"
Last edited by Morg on Fri Nov 10, 2006 10:55 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
There was once a time in the desert, not for from City by the Great Water...distant Sabata, where the wetlanders came to trade in spices, medicines, precious stones and human flesh. From here, much of the steel seen in the desert...precious, precious steel, that which would not waste away in the arid desert winds...was brought purchased. Just beyond the gleaming, magnificent domes of the city were curious ruins, ruins of untold age that held among them tiles of blue, green, and gold...tiles not unlike those she could see here in the Peshawgo's ancient cistern home. It was there that she and the Peshawgo fled against the whipping, gritty turri...the hot desert winds that carried upon it a host of djinni, each desperate to claim the Peshawgo once more as their unwitting host.
Desperate to escape the djinni, they staggered among the ruins and hid among them, crouched within the ancient stones and curious tiles together. She had wanted him then...wanted his hands upon her, his breath near her...she wanted him to take her as his. She had never sought such a thing from a man before...and for a time, she believed she had loved him. Once again, she felt such a thing...a longing desperation to be possessed and used, to surrender herself to his whim...
Blink.
Shuddering, Amica let her eyelids drop until they were nearly closed, her body shuddering in Peshawgo's grip. As quickly as he had sought to beguile her, his enchantment faded...leaving her intoxicated, her pulse hammering through her skull like a council drum. What tricks you have learned, Peshawgo, she thought, breathing slowly...carefully...until she could speak again. So distracted was she that she almost did not hear the Peshawgo's words. She has taught you magics, and I will teach you to know jealousy.
"I have, Peshawgo. I have love for a great many others," she said evenly, her voice shaky and weak. Curiously, T'Kil was not first upon her mind. First upon her mind...and perhaps her heart...was her father. Amica had not seen him in this many months, and she had learned so very much since she had fled his tent so long ago. She had learned enough to truly believe that he had driven her away...driven her off to find whatever destiny Fate would have for her. While true, her words would not offer the Peshawgo the measure of response he sought...and Amica would not deny it. "This man of whom you speak...the shaman...he is very special to me. I would have him for a husband if he would have me," she confessed. She might have focused upon the Peshawgo's reaction more carefully were she more attentive, but she could not bring herself to focus properly.
Desperate to escape the djinni, they staggered among the ruins and hid among them, crouched within the ancient stones and curious tiles together. She had wanted him then...wanted his hands upon her, his breath near her...she wanted him to take her as his. She had never sought such a thing from a man before...and for a time, she believed she had loved him. Once again, she felt such a thing...a longing desperation to be possessed and used, to surrender herself to his whim...
Blink.
Shuddering, Amica let her eyelids drop until they were nearly closed, her body shuddering in Peshawgo's grip. As quickly as he had sought to beguile her, his enchantment faded...leaving her intoxicated, her pulse hammering through her skull like a council drum. What tricks you have learned, Peshawgo, she thought, breathing slowly...carefully...until she could speak again. So distracted was she that she almost did not hear the Peshawgo's words. She has taught you magics, and I will teach you to know jealousy.
"I have, Peshawgo. I have love for a great many others," she said evenly, her voice shaky and weak. Curiously, T'Kil was not first upon her mind. First upon her mind...and perhaps her heart...was her father. Amica had not seen him in this many months, and she had learned so very much since she had fled his tent so long ago. She had learned enough to truly believe that he had driven her away...driven her off to find whatever destiny Fate would have for her. While true, her words would not offer the Peshawgo the measure of response he sought...and Amica would not deny it. "This man of whom you speak...the shaman...he is very special to me. I would have him for a husband if he would have me," she confessed. She might have focused upon the Peshawgo's reaction more carefully were she more attentive, but she could not bring herself to focus properly.
However inattentive she was, Amica could not have missed the physiological effects of the Peshawgo's reaction, for he held her hands in his... and his hold tightened fiercely as he listened, muscles surging with tension as he grasped her ever harder, constricting until his knuckles were white. The vicelike grip was appallingly painful, her fingers giving way under the pressure of hands exerting a greater strength than any human body was ever meant to possess.
The man-dragon didn't seem aware of the pain he was causing. His eyes were far away, and his expression worried and searching. After having so much difficulty putting the question to her himself, he hadn't expected such a candid answer, and it showed.
"A hus'band," he echoed, the title unfamiliar on his tongue. "Does that mean that you would... be together, as we have been together, kholen?" Seated, with his legs crossed, he rocked agitatedly back and forth on his haunches as his desperation mounted. "That which you felt for me, do you feel now for him?" The tears in his blue eyes were more than a distinct possibility now, one breaking away to trickle down the side of his handsome nose. "You are very special to me, Amica. The most special. I know not the role of a hus'band, but I would be with you forever should you wish it..." He shook his dark-haired head vigorously. "I do not underSTAND!"
The last syllable was marked by a sharp, audible crack. One of the blue-green tiles on the cistern rim had shattered, and a jagged fracture line now ran through it. This was not the only perceptible change in their surroundings, either. The waters of the cistern itself, normally placid, had begun to ripple and undulate frantically.
The man-dragon didn't seem aware of the pain he was causing. His eyes were far away, and his expression worried and searching. After having so much difficulty putting the question to her himself, he hadn't expected such a candid answer, and it showed.
"A hus'band," he echoed, the title unfamiliar on his tongue. "Does that mean that you would... be together, as we have been together, kholen?" Seated, with his legs crossed, he rocked agitatedly back and forth on his haunches as his desperation mounted. "That which you felt for me, do you feel now for him?" The tears in his blue eyes were more than a distinct possibility now, one breaking away to trickle down the side of his handsome nose. "You are very special to me, Amica. The most special. I know not the role of a hus'band, but I would be with you forever should you wish it..." He shook his dark-haired head vigorously. "I do not underSTAND!"
The last syllable was marked by a sharp, audible crack. One of the blue-green tiles on the cistern rim had shattered, and a jagged fracture line now ran through it. This was not the only perceptible change in their surroundings, either. The waters of the cistern itself, normally placid, had begun to ripple and undulate frantically.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Closing her eyes, Amica listened to the Peshawgo's fury with detachment, as if she had lept clear of her body and watched like some etherial observer. Jealousy, she thought, and jealousy for me? He has come a long way, but he has not come far enough. The pain of his grasp was enough to drag a gasp from her, a gasp she could not...would not spare him.
"Be at peace, Peshawgo. You do understand, though you have chosen to ignore me as you have chosen to ignore your duty," she replied, her bitter words far more scathing than she had intended. Clamping her mouth shut, she calmly waited for the strength to speak...and to speak properly...for she would not give him to know any greater anger than he already felt. Taking a deep breath when the dragon's grip would allow, she tried again.
"Do you know what it means to say Peshawgo?" she started again. It was time to show him his place. Curious she had not tried such a thing before...but before, he was too weak to protect himself. "This is not a word of your kind. It is a word of my kind...a word that was used by the djinni to describe you. It means He Who is Misplaced, or He Who Lost His Place. But how would the djinni know of the Pact of Dragons? They do not know of it...but still they knew you had lost your place. Perhaps it is they knew that you no longer understand what you were. What you are still."
"You are a Dragon, Peshawgo. You are the power of Mother Earth...the anger of Father Sky...the death that follows the turri. You have forgotten this...you have forgotten your place...in the desert. How proud you are to show me your power...the power of Dragon Kind...and yet you do not understand why you and I cannot be together. You will live to see the Great Mountains of the West wear away into hills. You will live to see the Endless Waters rise and sweep away the desert...and you will see stars fade and die. I will see none of these things, for I am human...and I will die soon and leave you to live on for an age."
"Next to your immortality, I am little more than a season. But still I might find immortality in my children...for I will have them, Peshawgo. But how can I have children if I do not take another human as my husband? How can you have children of your own? I will only know this immortality through my children and my children's children. Twenty...thirty generations of my People will live and die, recalling my name in chant or legend alone...songs that you will live to hear. You cannot give me children to carry my name into eternity, Peshawgo. I can never bear our children...and I will not live forever."
Licking her lips quickly, Amica opened her wet eyes and turned to glance at the dragon that held her. "Finally, there is duty...but you would have me ignore my duty, would you not? But I cannot ignore my duty, Peshawgo. I am Gens Harinae of Tribus Negri...a spirit warrior for my people. I am not among the Keepers of the Water...and so I am not your kholen. I love you with all my heart, but I cannot be your mate...and I have not the right to be your kholen."
"Perhaps it is you have lost your place? But I have not. I know my place well...and I will do what I must to protect my people. I will free you from Aeis such that you might fulfill your part of the Pact. And if you will not fulfill your part of the pact, then I must defeat all of Dragon Kind before my People...and the legends and chants of our ancestors...are gone forever."
"Be at peace, Peshawgo. You do understand, though you have chosen to ignore me as you have chosen to ignore your duty," she replied, her bitter words far more scathing than she had intended. Clamping her mouth shut, she calmly waited for the strength to speak...and to speak properly...for she would not give him to know any greater anger than he already felt. Taking a deep breath when the dragon's grip would allow, she tried again.
"Do you know what it means to say Peshawgo?" she started again. It was time to show him his place. Curious she had not tried such a thing before...but before, he was too weak to protect himself. "This is not a word of your kind. It is a word of my kind...a word that was used by the djinni to describe you. It means He Who is Misplaced, or He Who Lost His Place. But how would the djinni know of the Pact of Dragons? They do not know of it...but still they knew you had lost your place. Perhaps it is they knew that you no longer understand what you were. What you are still."
"You are a Dragon, Peshawgo. You are the power of Mother Earth...the anger of Father Sky...the death that follows the turri. You have forgotten this...you have forgotten your place...in the desert. How proud you are to show me your power...the power of Dragon Kind...and yet you do not understand why you and I cannot be together. You will live to see the Great Mountains of the West wear away into hills. You will live to see the Endless Waters rise and sweep away the desert...and you will see stars fade and die. I will see none of these things, for I am human...and I will die soon and leave you to live on for an age."
"Next to your immortality, I am little more than a season. But still I might find immortality in my children...for I will have them, Peshawgo. But how can I have children if I do not take another human as my husband? How can you have children of your own? I will only know this immortality through my children and my children's children. Twenty...thirty generations of my People will live and die, recalling my name in chant or legend alone...songs that you will live to hear. You cannot give me children to carry my name into eternity, Peshawgo. I can never bear our children...and I will not live forever."
Licking her lips quickly, Amica opened her wet eyes and turned to glance at the dragon that held her. "Finally, there is duty...but you would have me ignore my duty, would you not? But I cannot ignore my duty, Peshawgo. I am Gens Harinae of Tribus Negri...a spirit warrior for my people. I am not among the Keepers of the Water...and so I am not your kholen. I love you with all my heart, but I cannot be your mate...and I have not the right to be your kholen."
"Perhaps it is you have lost your place? But I have not. I know my place well...and I will do what I must to protect my people. I will free you from Aeis such that you might fulfill your part of the Pact. And if you will not fulfill your part of the pact, then I must defeat all of Dragon Kind before my People...and the legends and chants of our ancestors...are gone forever."
Reason.
Amica was, of course, right. However fervently he wished that he was merely misunderstanding what he was hearing, the Peshawgo did understand. The shaman's words were crushingly lucid, and despite his best efforts the man-dragon could not have failed to realise that every word spoken to him was completely, uncompromisingly true.
But Peshawgo was, despite his many decades of life in absolute terms, a child among his kind, and attempting to convince a child through reason is so often a fruitless endeavour; not because they are unable to comprehend what they are told, but because there is a greater power working within them, one that they have not yet learned to tame. A favoured saying among the hardy, adaptable People of the Sands was this: You do not reason with the desert storm. You take shelter from it, or you die. Thus it was with Peshawgo. As the weight of Amica's words came crashing down upon him, another force was building in the Peshawgo, one with the potential to blast aside the crystal clarity of her reasoning almost effortlessly, and this force was grounded in the simple fact that what this Friend of the Storm was telling him was, of all things, that which he least wanted to hear.
It spoke volumes for Amica's composure that she was able to concentrate on what she was saying while all around her the great cistern was shifting and changing to reflect the dragon's increasingly agitated mood. Shortly after the first, another three enamelled tiles shattered in quick succession: crack, crack, crack! In the meantime, the waters of the pool were no longer merely unsettled. Now they were dark and turbulent, churning and roiling like a storm at sea, although Amica was not in a position to make the comparison. The crashing waves were powerful enough to give the ground on which they were sitting to shudder under their impact, jarringly out of sync with Peshawgo's own movements as he continued to rock back and forth.
But it was not the case that Amica's words had failed to reach the Peshawgo completely. She had known the young dragon long enough to be able to recognise when he was holding something back - and this was one of those times. The sluices on Peshawgo's rage were still down, and somehow, and for some reason, he was still holding the greater part of it within. He spoke, and his voice, unconsciously magnified to an uncomfortable level, quaked with anguish.
"I agreed to no Pact," he rumbled. "I see no duty. I see only imprisonment." Despite the passion laced into these words it was clear that they were not his words, at least not originally. "I am called upon to serve a People to whom I owe nothing. Less than nothing. For centuries my line has protected your kind, hidden in this place." Here the monologue broke off, and the next comment seemed to be addressed to himself. "But it is my place. I know of no other." Shaking his head, he continued, tremulous voice rising and building. "But I escaped, by luck or by destiny. I have seen the world... so little of the world, but I want to see more. You talk of the power of Dragon Kind, and their past, and their birthright. Why should I be restricted to this skulking below? How could I bear it, now that I know I will live for a near-eternity? I have tasted what the beyond has to offer, and I feel that I could never deny it to myself. I have seen the face of my captors, and I hated them for what they presumed. And you..." He hissed. "You, who have been through so much by my side. You claim that your duty is to return me to my duty. Then how can you not be my kholen?"
The expected crescendo had been averted, and suddenly, unbelievably rapidly, the situation seemed defused. The waters sunk from raging to placid in a flicker, and the shuddering subsided. The great cistern had fallen calm in expectation of what Peshawgo was about to say.
"And I think..." he murmured, and actually chuckled lightly. "You know, I think that I would go back there, and stay there, if it were only the two of us, together, forever." He shook his head. The lull was over. Painfully, finally, he raised his tearful gaze to meet hers, and something clicked into place, like the minute-hand of a great clock striking midnight. The scene exploded.
Everything shattered. The waters of the pool erupted outwards, screaming. Peshawgo, the full force of his anger and pain now released, was somehow hurled backwards as if plucked by a great hand, tumbling into the crest of the wave - and as he did so, seemed to dissolve into a fountain of misty spray. But within the flicker another shape was forming. In principle, it was a shape Amica knew well. Massive, serpentine, aquamarine, capped by a ridge of finlike spines and ending in a long finned tail... it was a Dragon. More to the point, it was Peshawgo. His sleek, gilled head held the same wonderful sapphire eyes, darting quizzically from her to himself and back again.
Amica was, of course, right. However fervently he wished that he was merely misunderstanding what he was hearing, the Peshawgo did understand. The shaman's words were crushingly lucid, and despite his best efforts the man-dragon could not have failed to realise that every word spoken to him was completely, uncompromisingly true.
But Peshawgo was, despite his many decades of life in absolute terms, a child among his kind, and attempting to convince a child through reason is so often a fruitless endeavour; not because they are unable to comprehend what they are told, but because there is a greater power working within them, one that they have not yet learned to tame. A favoured saying among the hardy, adaptable People of the Sands was this: You do not reason with the desert storm. You take shelter from it, or you die. Thus it was with Peshawgo. As the weight of Amica's words came crashing down upon him, another force was building in the Peshawgo, one with the potential to blast aside the crystal clarity of her reasoning almost effortlessly, and this force was grounded in the simple fact that what this Friend of the Storm was telling him was, of all things, that which he least wanted to hear.
It spoke volumes for Amica's composure that she was able to concentrate on what she was saying while all around her the great cistern was shifting and changing to reflect the dragon's increasingly agitated mood. Shortly after the first, another three enamelled tiles shattered in quick succession: crack, crack, crack! In the meantime, the waters of the pool were no longer merely unsettled. Now they were dark and turbulent, churning and roiling like a storm at sea, although Amica was not in a position to make the comparison. The crashing waves were powerful enough to give the ground on which they were sitting to shudder under their impact, jarringly out of sync with Peshawgo's own movements as he continued to rock back and forth.
But it was not the case that Amica's words had failed to reach the Peshawgo completely. She had known the young dragon long enough to be able to recognise when he was holding something back - and this was one of those times. The sluices on Peshawgo's rage were still down, and somehow, and for some reason, he was still holding the greater part of it within. He spoke, and his voice, unconsciously magnified to an uncomfortable level, quaked with anguish.
"I agreed to no Pact," he rumbled. "I see no duty. I see only imprisonment." Despite the passion laced into these words it was clear that they were not his words, at least not originally. "I am called upon to serve a People to whom I owe nothing. Less than nothing. For centuries my line has protected your kind, hidden in this place." Here the monologue broke off, and the next comment seemed to be addressed to himself. "But it is my place. I know of no other." Shaking his head, he continued, tremulous voice rising and building. "But I escaped, by luck or by destiny. I have seen the world... so little of the world, but I want to see more. You talk of the power of Dragon Kind, and their past, and their birthright. Why should I be restricted to this skulking below? How could I bear it, now that I know I will live for a near-eternity? I have tasted what the beyond has to offer, and I feel that I could never deny it to myself. I have seen the face of my captors, and I hated them for what they presumed. And you..." He hissed. "You, who have been through so much by my side. You claim that your duty is to return me to my duty. Then how can you not be my kholen?"
The expected crescendo had been averted, and suddenly, unbelievably rapidly, the situation seemed defused. The waters sunk from raging to placid in a flicker, and the shuddering subsided. The great cistern had fallen calm in expectation of what Peshawgo was about to say.
"And I think..." he murmured, and actually chuckled lightly. "You know, I think that I would go back there, and stay there, if it were only the two of us, together, forever." He shook his head. The lull was over. Painfully, finally, he raised his tearful gaze to meet hers, and something clicked into place, like the minute-hand of a great clock striking midnight. The scene exploded.
Everything shattered. The waters of the pool erupted outwards, screaming. Peshawgo, the full force of his anger and pain now released, was somehow hurled backwards as if plucked by a great hand, tumbling into the crest of the wave - and as he did so, seemed to dissolve into a fountain of misty spray. But within the flicker another shape was forming. In principle, it was a shape Amica knew well. Massive, serpentine, aquamarine, capped by a ridge of finlike spines and ending in a long finned tail... it was a Dragon. More to the point, it was Peshawgo. His sleek, gilled head held the same wonderful sapphire eyes, darting quizzically from her to himself and back again.
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
It was before her very eyes now. The truth was a bitter sting to Amica, a truth she had overlooked before. Such a cold, simple truth...and she might have learned of it before had she considered upon it. The Peshawgo had not been taken by the djinni before he left his Place. He left his place because he chose to do so...and while he met with great hardship after he was gone, hardship that would rob him of his memory and his birthright, he had made the decision to betray the Pact long before he had been taken by the fickle air spirits. He did not realize this yet, but it seemed to the shaman that the Peshawgo was remembering more and more with every passing flicker. He now remembered that he didn't want to fulfill the Pact.
And why should he? thought Amica, closing her eyes to shut out the turbulent world around her. He had no reason to do so. If he had felt in any way compelled to remain, he would have stayed...and he would have never suffered at the hands of the djinn. Amica had no compelling argument to offer him to convince him to return...and to remain...unless she were to offer up herself. She could have done this...a lifetime was not so great a thing to sacrifice for her people...but after she passed away, the Peshawgo would have no further reason to stay. And we would both suffer, she knew. It was not unlike the same fate she had escaped so long ago, fleeing her father's tent and his absurd dowry that would have seen her bound to a man, forced into marriage...for nothing more than custom. We have both fled our fate. And what hardship will our cowardice bring us?
It could only mean the death of her People...and the ruin of Mother Desert. Without the Pact, the curse would ravish the lands and Dragon Kind would begin their attacks. How long will it take for her People to die? For Sabata to die? For Dragon Kind to fly north, to the Tree People, and over the mountains to savage the Wetlanders? People of all nations would die...and soon enough, Dragon Kind will rule the lands once more. Without the Pact...without the peace...there would be nothing left.
No. This is not true.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a new thought crept into Amica's awareness. Even as the Peshawgo fumed and raged against his fate, his anger growing, Amica could not fail to stop the flood of ideas that invaded her now. Why did Dragon Kind bring the curse? Why did they do this, to curse us instead of slaying us all? And what has this curse to do with the Great Dragon Runes we are forbidden to use? she pondered. She knew only one of the greater runes...symbols of Dragon magic that unlocked such power that most mortals...including Amica...could hardly control. Are these connected, or was this part of the Pact? Aeis, Dragon of Wind, would see all the People perish...but she still respects the Pact. Why does she do this? Why has she been so very careful?
The answer cracked into Amica's mind like a thunderbolt. They fear us! Opening her eyes, Amica missed the quiet, sincere words that Peshawgo offered, missing her chance to speak. Instead, the world exploded around her...and he was cast away, cast away to dissolve into...the Beast.
Fear. At first, Amica was afraid of the image before her. It would have been foolish and impossible for her to dispell her fear, for she had been trained to fear all of Dragon Kind since her birth. Added to this, any Dragon should be terrifying, a creature of such immense power and strength, both spiritual and physical, that they were regarded as one might regard the storm or the seasons. But her fear lacked conviction...it lacked depth. Something is wrong... she knew, putting the pieces together with a speed and clarity that were usual for the cunning young woman.
They feared us! They taught us their magics, and saw that we could use them as well as they. And they came to know great fear, for we were so many...and they were so few. We demanded so much...so much land, so much wealth, so much power...and we grew until we were greater even than they. How could they not fear us? And how else could they have hoped to keep their lands and their lives? They brought war upon us to control us. And they were successful...for the curse would keep us few and control our power. And the Pact...the Pact was our mercy, but a wicked one indeed. We would survive only while the Dragon of Water gave us leave to do so. Was it the Curse that gave the lands to dry up...or was it the Pact? It matters not, for they are now the same. For a thousand generations, we have been conquered...so long we have forgotten we were so. So long that THEY have forgotten we were so! A thousand generations later, the jailer has become the prisoner...
"There is another way!" she gasped, unintentionally speaking aloud. There was another way to save her people...and to save the Peshawgo as well. The Curse...and the Pact...could be broken. It would threaten the peace between them...there could be a new war between Man and Dragon Kind...but there was no other way. And all will try to stop us. Aeis, Dragon of Wind, would not happily see the Curse removed. How many other of Dragon Kind would see the People destroyed forever? And the Council of Elders...the greatest of our shaman...they would stop at nothing to stop us from threatening the Pact. They would protect the Curse...if it meant saving the Pact. Is THIS why they have forbidden the Greater Magics? Perhaps they fear as much as the Dragons fear...
"There is another way! Peshawgo...there is another way!" called Amica. There would be bloodshed...and there would be hardship. But Fate had it that both the Peshawgo and Amica would flee their prisons at the same time...and what other reason could there be for such a thing? Fate had chosen this time to end the old Pact...and begin a new age for her People. "It is not my place to be your kholen...but it is my place to be your shaman. If you would be free of this duty...then we will free you. Together we will destroy this curse...and we will end the Pact. And we will turn all eyes of our kin...your kin and mine...upon us. And we will forge a new Pact. The way will be perilous, but we will find another way!"
And why should he? thought Amica, closing her eyes to shut out the turbulent world around her. He had no reason to do so. If he had felt in any way compelled to remain, he would have stayed...and he would have never suffered at the hands of the djinn. Amica had no compelling argument to offer him to convince him to return...and to remain...unless she were to offer up herself. She could have done this...a lifetime was not so great a thing to sacrifice for her people...but after she passed away, the Peshawgo would have no further reason to stay. And we would both suffer, she knew. It was not unlike the same fate she had escaped so long ago, fleeing her father's tent and his absurd dowry that would have seen her bound to a man, forced into marriage...for nothing more than custom. We have both fled our fate. And what hardship will our cowardice bring us?
It could only mean the death of her People...and the ruin of Mother Desert. Without the Pact, the curse would ravish the lands and Dragon Kind would begin their attacks. How long will it take for her People to die? For Sabata to die? For Dragon Kind to fly north, to the Tree People, and over the mountains to savage the Wetlanders? People of all nations would die...and soon enough, Dragon Kind will rule the lands once more. Without the Pact...without the peace...there would be nothing left.
No. This is not true.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, a new thought crept into Amica's awareness. Even as the Peshawgo fumed and raged against his fate, his anger growing, Amica could not fail to stop the flood of ideas that invaded her now. Why did Dragon Kind bring the curse? Why did they do this, to curse us instead of slaying us all? And what has this curse to do with the Great Dragon Runes we are forbidden to use? she pondered. She knew only one of the greater runes...symbols of Dragon magic that unlocked such power that most mortals...including Amica...could hardly control. Are these connected, or was this part of the Pact? Aeis, Dragon of Wind, would see all the People perish...but she still respects the Pact. Why does she do this? Why has she been so very careful?
The answer cracked into Amica's mind like a thunderbolt. They fear us! Opening her eyes, Amica missed the quiet, sincere words that Peshawgo offered, missing her chance to speak. Instead, the world exploded around her...and he was cast away, cast away to dissolve into...the Beast.
Fear. At first, Amica was afraid of the image before her. It would have been foolish and impossible for her to dispell her fear, for she had been trained to fear all of Dragon Kind since her birth. Added to this, any Dragon should be terrifying, a creature of such immense power and strength, both spiritual and physical, that they were regarded as one might regard the storm or the seasons. But her fear lacked conviction...it lacked depth. Something is wrong... she knew, putting the pieces together with a speed and clarity that were usual for the cunning young woman.
They feared us! They taught us their magics, and saw that we could use them as well as they. And they came to know great fear, for we were so many...and they were so few. We demanded so much...so much land, so much wealth, so much power...and we grew until we were greater even than they. How could they not fear us? And how else could they have hoped to keep their lands and their lives? They brought war upon us to control us. And they were successful...for the curse would keep us few and control our power. And the Pact...the Pact was our mercy, but a wicked one indeed. We would survive only while the Dragon of Water gave us leave to do so. Was it the Curse that gave the lands to dry up...or was it the Pact? It matters not, for they are now the same. For a thousand generations, we have been conquered...so long we have forgotten we were so. So long that THEY have forgotten we were so! A thousand generations later, the jailer has become the prisoner...
"There is another way!" she gasped, unintentionally speaking aloud. There was another way to save her people...and to save the Peshawgo as well. The Curse...and the Pact...could be broken. It would threaten the peace between them...there could be a new war between Man and Dragon Kind...but there was no other way. And all will try to stop us. Aeis, Dragon of Wind, would not happily see the Curse removed. How many other of Dragon Kind would see the People destroyed forever? And the Council of Elders...the greatest of our shaman...they would stop at nothing to stop us from threatening the Pact. They would protect the Curse...if it meant saving the Pact. Is THIS why they have forbidden the Greater Magics? Perhaps they fear as much as the Dragons fear...
"There is another way! Peshawgo...there is another way!" called Amica. There would be bloodshed...and there would be hardship. But Fate had it that both the Peshawgo and Amica would flee their prisons at the same time...and what other reason could there be for such a thing? Fate had chosen this time to end the old Pact...and begin a new age for her People. "It is not my place to be your kholen...but it is my place to be your shaman. If you would be free of this duty...then we will free you. Together we will destroy this curse...and we will end the Pact. And we will turn all eyes of our kin...your kin and mine...upon us. And we will forge a new Pact. The way will be perilous, but we will find another way!"
It was difficult to tell what had surprised Peshawgo more: his sudden, unintentional transformation into the creature he knew he was, or the fact that the girl before him was suggesting overturning one of the most fundamental constants in the lives of both the People and Dragon Kind. Either way, the dragon's long, horned head held an expression of extreme puzzlement.
"You... would do this for me?" he said at length, the words emanating from his scaled snout with its vast fanged maw now shockingly human. But even as he uttered the words, he knew that they were not true. "For us," he amended, "and for the others too... your stupid People, and my warlike kin?"
Up until this point the Peshawgo had been hovering in the air with steady beats of his wings, but now he moved, his massive scaled body coming to rest in a great loop around Amica's. "They will see us, Amica," he agreed, "and they will not thank us. Perhaps not until much later, anyway..."
The dragon nodded, once and then again, as the full audacity of what Amica was proposing sank in. "Amica, if you do this... you will have one thing in common with Aeis, for Wind Dragon seeks to break the Pact by keeping me from fulfilling my part in it, and through other means, too. She would see our peoples at war again, Amica, this you know. But I am sure that the Curse itself is one thing that has not crossed her mind."
He exhaled, a curious sighing action, and puffs of warm air from his flared nostrils tickled her skin. "But... what if the Curse cannot be lifted, Amica? You throw aside the Pact, but at what cost?" For the first time, Peshawgo was realising the futility of his position. On the one hand, he truly did not want to return to the cisterns for a lifetime... but on the other, now that he considered it, the thought of a full-scale war, and one with him and his kholen at its centre, was an equally unappealing prospect. Despite his doubts, though, Peshawgo had made up his mind.
"I will follow you in this," the dragon declared. "You have led me well in the past, and I can see the sense in what you suggest. It even makes me recall why I loved you so much, when we first met." His great eyes twinkled. "And I do not care whether you are my kholen, or my shaman, Amica... as long as you are mine." A great coil of his tail flicked majestically into the air. Clearly all thought of T'kil and grounds for jealousy had temporarily vanished from his mind.
Suddenly Peshawgo's great head whipped round, an impossibly fast movement for such an immense creature, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. "Wind Dragon returns from hunting," he announced, in a low, urgent voice. "I must depart this place... we must speak quickly. What would you have me do, Amica? I cannot escape here alone. I will await you here..."
"You... would do this for me?" he said at length, the words emanating from his scaled snout with its vast fanged maw now shockingly human. But even as he uttered the words, he knew that they were not true. "For us," he amended, "and for the others too... your stupid People, and my warlike kin?"
Up until this point the Peshawgo had been hovering in the air with steady beats of his wings, but now he moved, his massive scaled body coming to rest in a great loop around Amica's. "They will see us, Amica," he agreed, "and they will not thank us. Perhaps not until much later, anyway..."
The dragon nodded, once and then again, as the full audacity of what Amica was proposing sank in. "Amica, if you do this... you will have one thing in common with Aeis, for Wind Dragon seeks to break the Pact by keeping me from fulfilling my part in it, and through other means, too. She would see our peoples at war again, Amica, this you know. But I am sure that the Curse itself is one thing that has not crossed her mind."
He exhaled, a curious sighing action, and puffs of warm air from his flared nostrils tickled her skin. "But... what if the Curse cannot be lifted, Amica? You throw aside the Pact, but at what cost?" For the first time, Peshawgo was realising the futility of his position. On the one hand, he truly did not want to return to the cisterns for a lifetime... but on the other, now that he considered it, the thought of a full-scale war, and one with him and his kholen at its centre, was an equally unappealing prospect. Despite his doubts, though, Peshawgo had made up his mind.
"I will follow you in this," the dragon declared. "You have led me well in the past, and I can see the sense in what you suggest. It even makes me recall why I loved you so much, when we first met." His great eyes twinkled. "And I do not care whether you are my kholen, or my shaman, Amica... as long as you are mine." A great coil of his tail flicked majestically into the air. Clearly all thought of T'kil and grounds for jealousy had temporarily vanished from his mind.
Suddenly Peshawgo's great head whipped round, an impossibly fast movement for such an immense creature, and his nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. "Wind Dragon returns from hunting," he announced, in a low, urgent voice. "I must depart this place... we must speak quickly. What would you have me do, Amica? I cannot escape here alone. I will await you here..."
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
He was difficult to look upon. Amica had known the Peshawgo as a dragon for some time, but she could not shed the innate fear that his serpentine form inspired within her. Her body couldn't stop trembling, and she could hear the shakey, tenuous tint of terror in her own voice. The Peshawgo's sudden movement managed to shake Amica from her terror...and give her to recall her new task once again.
"Oh! You...must await me, Peshawgo...I will come to you soon, to challenge Aeis, Dragon of Wind, and free you from her," she replied, rising up in response to the Water Dragon's alarmed activity. There was something he could do while he awaited her, though...something only the Peshawgo could accomplish.
A curse. A curse was a very emipheral thing that could take so very many different forms. A curse could be a haunting by some malevolent spirit, a ghost that haunted a person or a place due to some perceived wrong committed against them...or perhaps bargained to do as much, thought Amica. Could a great spirit haunt the entire Desert? Another form of curse might be a hex...some kind of malevolent spell of sigil embedded upon a person, thing, or place that gave those involved to know some kind of suffering. These were often far more dangerous, for they were indescriminant and so very difficult to find. Anything could be tainted by spell...anything from a man to his clothes to his home.
But there were more possibilities. The Curse might be nothing more than the natural result of something else...such as the shrivelling waste of the Great Desert. Perhaps Dragon Kind had given the desert to dry up by moving a river? Perhaps they lifted the mountains such that no rains would touch the lands. This kind of curse was no curse at all...but it would have much the same affect, for the People would still perish if it weren't for the oasis and watering holes that were rumored to survive only by virtue of the Pact. Amica didn't know if this were true, but she could not deny that some curses weren't magic at all. She had to know if she were to fight it...and the only one that could tell them of the Curse was Aeis, Dragon of Wind.
"Peshawgo, you must speak to Aeis. Find out from her how Dragon Kind cursed the lands, if she knows of this. You must challenge her to reveal this to you...challenge her ignorance such that her pride gives her to reveal it," she said, stepping forward and reaching out to touch the massive beast upon the snout. "You must learn what you can, if such a thing can be done...and once I've defeated her, we will try to undo that which has given us to suffer for so long."
"Oh! You...must await me, Peshawgo...I will come to you soon, to challenge Aeis, Dragon of Wind, and free you from her," she replied, rising up in response to the Water Dragon's alarmed activity. There was something he could do while he awaited her, though...something only the Peshawgo could accomplish.
A curse. A curse was a very emipheral thing that could take so very many different forms. A curse could be a haunting by some malevolent spirit, a ghost that haunted a person or a place due to some perceived wrong committed against them...or perhaps bargained to do as much, thought Amica. Could a great spirit haunt the entire Desert? Another form of curse might be a hex...some kind of malevolent spell of sigil embedded upon a person, thing, or place that gave those involved to know some kind of suffering. These were often far more dangerous, for they were indescriminant and so very difficult to find. Anything could be tainted by spell...anything from a man to his clothes to his home.
But there were more possibilities. The Curse might be nothing more than the natural result of something else...such as the shrivelling waste of the Great Desert. Perhaps Dragon Kind had given the desert to dry up by moving a river? Perhaps they lifted the mountains such that no rains would touch the lands. This kind of curse was no curse at all...but it would have much the same affect, for the People would still perish if it weren't for the oasis and watering holes that were rumored to survive only by virtue of the Pact. Amica didn't know if this were true, but she could not deny that some curses weren't magic at all. She had to know if she were to fight it...and the only one that could tell them of the Curse was Aeis, Dragon of Wind.
"Peshawgo, you must speak to Aeis. Find out from her how Dragon Kind cursed the lands, if she knows of this. You must challenge her to reveal this to you...challenge her ignorance such that her pride gives her to reveal it," she said, stepping forward and reaching out to touch the massive beast upon the snout. "You must learn what you can, if such a thing can be done...and once I've defeated her, we will try to undo that which has given us to suffer for so long."
The Peshawgo's agitation subsided at Amica's touch, and with his snout he nuzzled warmly against her side, making a contented noise sounding like nothing so much as the purring of a great cat. "For you I will do this, Amica," he murmured lazily. "Wind Dragon is clever and sharp, but she is also proud, of herself and of her kind. If she knows of the Curse, she will tell me when I ask. I have only to present myself as a willing pupil. And if she does not know, then I can pique her to find out." Pride was in Peshawgo's deep tones, too. He was proud of himself, but even more proud of Amica.
A cool wind swept through the chamber, ruffling the tranquil surface of the cistern pool, but the dragon seemed not to notice. With some effort he raised his massive, scaly bulk from the ground, experimentally flexing limbs whose use was ingrained into his subconscious as thousands of years of ancestral memory but which he had only just rediscovered. He towered above the young shaman.
"I would not have you risk yourself," he pronounced, "but it seems there is no other way. I know not where I am, but it is very high in the mountains, above the clouds most of the time. The climb will be hard without wings to lift you, so you must take great care. And you must stay away from the black crags..."
The wind was stronger now, reaching Peshawgo even through his scaly carapace, and the water dragon's tail twitched in irritation. "We will succeed in this, Amica," he declared curtly. "And we will live. Both of us will live. Otherwise what would be the point?" As he said this, the Peshawgo was already beginning to fade, not losing opacity but losing definition with each passing flicker, much like the view through a spyglass as it moves gradually out of focus. So too were the tiles, the pool, and the magnificent cistern chamber, and even Amica herself should she look down at her own body.
In the blurry surroundings Peshawgo's gleaming blue eyes were still crystal clear as he bade her farewell. "We shall be together soon," he simply stated. "I love you, my kholen-shaman..."
A cool wind swept through the chamber, ruffling the tranquil surface of the cistern pool, but the dragon seemed not to notice. With some effort he raised his massive, scaly bulk from the ground, experimentally flexing limbs whose use was ingrained into his subconscious as thousands of years of ancestral memory but which he had only just rediscovered. He towered above the young shaman.
"I would not have you risk yourself," he pronounced, "but it seems there is no other way. I know not where I am, but it is very high in the mountains, above the clouds most of the time. The climb will be hard without wings to lift you, so you must take great care. And you must stay away from the black crags..."
The wind was stronger now, reaching Peshawgo even through his scaly carapace, and the water dragon's tail twitched in irritation. "We will succeed in this, Amica," he declared curtly. "And we will live. Both of us will live. Otherwise what would be the point?" As he said this, the Peshawgo was already beginning to fade, not losing opacity but losing definition with each passing flicker, much like the view through a spyglass as it moves gradually out of focus. So too were the tiles, the pool, and the magnificent cistern chamber, and even Amica herself should she look down at her own body.
In the blurry surroundings Peshawgo's gleaming blue eyes were still crystal clear as he bade her farewell. "We shall be together soon," he simply stated. "I love you, my kholen-shaman..."
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
More and more, Amica listened as if she were within a dream. That she might actually be in a dream seemed irrelevant to her, for she had been in this particular dream many times before...but never with so much urgency. In addition to rediscovering his proper form, Peshawgo was changing within as well, evolving with every new truth he learned...a metamorphosis that affected the shaman almost as much as the sudden appearance of his physical form...a form upon which she had only speculated in the past.
He would help her, but he would do so for his own reasons...and they were far different from Amica's own. He is alone, she realized, save for me. He cannot understand why I would risk my life for such a task, for he has no tribe...no clan...no People. Not even his own kind hold any great place in his heart, she realized. The Peshawgo would help her to make War upon the curse, but he would do so only for her. It will have to do, she thought. In time, they would speak of this. If he will take my cause into his heart, then he must take my purpose as well.
Closing her eyes once more to block out the melting, fading surroundings, Amica could only assume the Peshawgo could still hear what she spoke. "Be careful, my love. I will be with you as soon as I can..." she murmured...opening her eyes in time to see his swirling ones as the smeared, hazy world drained away from her.
He would help her, but he would do so for his own reasons...and they were far different from Amica's own. He is alone, she realized, save for me. He cannot understand why I would risk my life for such a task, for he has no tribe...no clan...no People. Not even his own kind hold any great place in his heart, she realized. The Peshawgo would help her to make War upon the curse, but he would do so only for her. It will have to do, she thought. In time, they would speak of this. If he will take my cause into his heart, then he must take my purpose as well.
Closing her eyes once more to block out the melting, fading surroundings, Amica could only assume the Peshawgo could still hear what she spoke. "Be careful, my love. I will be with you as soon as I can..." she murmured...opening her eyes in time to see his swirling ones as the smeared, hazy world drained away from her.
As Peshawgo's dreamscape dissolved around her, Amica was once again borne by the currents of the Aether. In the darkness the water dragon's bright eyes finally winked out, and, free of his spell of convening, the shaman's spirit flew straight and true towards its customary home in her physical body.
OOC: Fin!
OOC: Fin!
[size=84][i]"She told me I had too much to dream last night..."[/i] - [i]Apprentice of the Universe[/i], Pure Reason Revolution
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
Avatar by [url=http://pixieface.deviantart.com]Liz Green[/url][/size]
