Mirabilus Keep, Isle of Mirabilus,
1172
A young girl from the village struggled
with her basket of food in the storm brewing outside
Mirabilus Keep. The wind increased, forcing her to
bow her head while fighting to stay on her path home.
Suddenly the storm's strength intensified.
Darkness fell upon her village, blotting out the sun's
light. Never in all her seven years had this happened.
Her eyes widened with fear at what
she perceived as impending doom. The girl ran for
shelter, but the wind blew her long hair into her
eyes leaving her unable to see clearly.
She stumbled, dropping her basket
in her haste. Fear of hunger surpassed her fear of
the storm and she stepped back to retrieve the basket.
An aged woman cried out from a doorway,
"Hurry, child!" The girl quickly did as
she was bid because the storm had come to life, taking
on the form of a dragon.
All at once the wind's fury overtook
her. Dust and sand stirred up by the whirlwind stung
her face and eyes. She trembled with the knowledge
that the storm swirling around her contained something
close to human intelligence and was not mere nature.
The hag squinted against the blinding
storm, her efforts to find the child fruitless. When
the basket whipped across the threshold of the cottage,
she slammed the door shut with a heartbroken cry.
Like the other villagers, she bowed
her head in prayer, yet the heavenly appeals were
unfounded, for the storm sought no more of the common
folk. It had needed the life of only one innocent
to complete its devilish task.
The wind howled over the dwellings,
continuing its lethal path across the open field to
the curtain walls surrounding the bailey. The men
stationed in the twin gate towers and on the walls
clung to rough-hewn beams or railings. But they were
unable to stand against the bloodthirsty force.
On a near scream, the gale-strength
wind hammered its way through the barred wooden shutters
of the main bedchamber. Small benches, herb-strewn
rushes, iron sconces, and pots of medicines exploded
across the floor. The heavy tapestries surrounding
the bed heaved as the wind's rage came to a whirling
stop.
As quickly as it had begun, the swirling
wind lessened to nothing more than a misty shadow.
The shadow wavered, contracting and expanding before
finally it took human form at the bedside of an elderly
dying man.
Nathan The Learned swallowed a gag
as the thick, cloying scents of burnt thyme and coming
death invaded his nostrils. He leaned over the old
man, only to be greeted with a sneer.
"You think to frighten me with
mere elements?"
The wizened man's lips never moved,
but Nathan easily heard his thoughts. Death drew nigh
and precious time could not be wasted with banter.
Nathan demanded, "Give me the manuscript, old
man, and find your peace."
"Your journey is fruitless.
Fire consumed the ancient book of spells decades ago."
"Perhaps." Nathan leaned
further over the bed and placed his palm on the dying
man's cold, withered forehead. "However, dear,
dear Uncle Aelthed, all know you have spent these
last years recreating the grimoire. I will have the
secrets now. They are my birthright."
"They are well-protected from
the likes of you. The secrets go to the grave and
beyond with me."
Nathan's blood ran cold. He'd not
studied and worked so diligently for more than two
decades only to be thwarted by death once again.
"Nigh on thirty years ago you
killed my father for trying to save the original grimoire.
You murdered him, your own brother, because you saw
fit to claim him wicked."
The dying wizard dug his withered
fingers into the bedclothes.
"I was only five years old,
but I still remember the dishonor and shame inflicted
on my father's dead body." He shook with growing
rage. "You denied him the funeral pyre that would
have permitted his soul to find peace. Instead, you
placed him in cold, lifeless earth with a cross to
mark his grave."
Aelthed's raspy breathing hitched.
Unable to move or escape the wrath he so richly deserved,
he tried to sink down into the mattress.
Nathan curled his lip in a sneer.
"Even after I remained true to the magic coursing
through my veins by studying the old ways and learning
the lessons set before me, you denied me the position
of power that was rightfully mine."
With one knee on the edge of the
bed, he bent over until his face was a mere hairbreadth
from his uncle's. "You chose an uninitiated mortal
to rule over the Isle of Mirabilus. I am the true
Dragon of Mirabilus. The Dragon's blood runs in my
veins, not his. This Norman knight bears the name
only by your public decree."
Aelthed's fear swirl cold and icy
about the chamber, Nathan could taste the sweetness
of it on his lips. "You turned your back on the
old ways and the magic of our line. By doing so, you
lessened the worth of Mirabilus. 'Tis no longer enough
to rule a magicless kingdom. I will have more."
The rise and fall of the older man's
chest faltered. "Nay, Uncle." Nathan pressed
his fingertips into Aelthed's temples, seeking to
forestall the inevitable. "I'll not let you go
until the book is in my hands."
Aelthed closed his eyes and trembled
beneath the hold. He then shuddered, and after taking
a gasping breath, hoarsely whispered, "Evidence
of my perfidy be gone forever."
Once-dwindling powers surged forth,
nearly singeing Nathan's fingertips. He stared down
at Aelthed in horror as he realized the defiant wizard
had wiped all memory of the book and its whereabouts
from his mind.
With a single swipe, Nathan tore
the bed curtains from the frame and threw them to
the floor. "No!" He gritted his teeth, then
tightened his grasp on Aelthed and stared into the
man's paling, watery gaze.
Again he shouted, "No!"
Then pressed his fingertips even harder into the older
man's temples. "I'll not let you escape so easily."
He searched the chamber, his gaze
landing on a small wooden box next to the bed. Nathan
willed the box to come to him. But rage weakened his
concentration and he was unable to bring the object
to his hand.
He closed his eyes and filled his
lungs with a deep, soothing breath. This time, with
the power of only his thoughts, he moved the box from
the table to his hand. The little cube rested on his
palm. "Perfect."
He tossed the wooden cube up and down,
testing its weight, then smiled and met Aelthed's
wide-eyed stare. "'Tis a hollow puzzle box, is
it not?"
Nathan knew by the dying wizard's
silence that he'd guessed correctly. He focused on
the box, finding the combination to the sliding panels
with his mind. He forced his will past the magical
lock, sliding one panel free, in turn releasing another,
and then another, until the box opened. "Behold
your new abode, Aelthed. You'll not find release in
death."
Nathan tossed the cube into the air
and set it spinning above Aelthed's chest, just over
the wizard's heart. "Nay, powerless to escape,
your soul will rot within these tiny walls. Just like
my father you shall never find peace." He laughed
at the thought of the revenge he would gain. "An
excellent curse, do you not agree? A fitting end for
one who seeks to continually thwart me. You see, dearest
uncle, I will find your ancient spells and secrets
without your help."
Defiance flickered behind the old
man's frightened gaze. That brief reminder of the
power this High Druid once possessed gave Nathan a
moment's pause. He hesitated only a heartbeat before
shaking off the seed of doubt.
"Nay. I will not be just the
Dragon of Mirabilus." He leaned down and whispered
in Aelthed's ear, "In the end, your deceit will
make me the Hierophant. Supreme power over all will
be mine."
Thunder crashed, jolting the stone
keep on its foundation. A small pun-sai dragon tree
in the corner shivered. Bottles and jars crashed to
the floor, shattering into countless glimmering shards.
Aelthed moaned. His last mortal thoughts
sped across the short distance to Nathan. "You
waste your time. The secrets are bound by threads
of love. Only the love shared between the true Dragon
and his mate will set them free. You know nothing
of love, or nurturing and will never possess the power
you seek."
Lightning streaked across the sky,
and seemingly raced through Nathan's spine. The time
was here. Aelthed's vow meant nothing. Vows were readily
broken. Threads easily snapped.
Nathan closed his eyes and stretched
out his arms above the dying wizard. A shaft of light
radiated from Aelthed's chest, gathering into an undulating
ball between Nathan's open hands.
Certain he held every last particle
of being that had once been Aelthed, he thrust the
shimmering mass into the wooden box, closed the panels
then sealed them with a spell.
While clutching the cube to his chest,
Nathan whispered with certainty, "Immortality
is almost mine, you fool. I fear not this Dragon or
his mate. I have all the time in the world to find
your secrets and spells. The day of my full attainment
will arrive."
