Myrah'Care's Flight
The flare of numerous torches burned into her irises and created sparks of ghostly light that danced across her vision. What felt like the pounding of a hundred dwarven hammers beat at the back of her mind. The definition between white noise and actual sound blurred and became a rush of sensation that nearly overwhelmed her. The hand that supported her chin had become numb from lack of movement and the pressure pushing against her elbow from the hard stone of the table. Her chair was farther back then normal, providing a comfortable distance for her swelled stomach. She shouldn't have been here.
Mystic sighed deeply as another Lord pounded the table with a clenched fist. She shifted her numb hand to her temple and rubbed the aching skin. Every part of her was exhausted, lethargic with the burden it carried these days. She should have been in bed or at least resting in her den instead of sitting in another one of these childish bouts of over-inflated pride. Aaron offered his defense to the enraged Lord and Mystic was again immensely grateful that here, her husband ruled.
The Council meeting had been called suddenly by a group of indignant Lords who had recently lost a few farms due to the Warren's stretched forces. Mystic had assured them that they had tried to get there in time, but talking reasonably to a hydra bent on destruction was not as easy as they thought. Her riders had salvaged what they could of the razed farmland, and spared quite a few lives in doing so. Still, that wasn't enough. Each one of the five Magik Princlets demanded that the Warren provide them a personal contingent of dragon riders. At the same time, they all demanded that the full force of the Warren's army erradicate the hydra threat immediately. Of course, when the question arose of who could offer their own ground units to stop the onslaught, each of the Lords and their ruling Princes were mysteriously otherwise occupied.
Aaron cast a quick glance at his wife and noted the fatigue that stretched the skin beneath her eyes and formed creases in her brow. He clenched his jaw to keep from snapping at the Lords for demanding that Mystic sit in on the meeting. In the Council Chamber, Aaron was the ruling Prince and Mystic was his mage and Princess. She provided information on the riders and the Warren in general, but was not required to attend Princlet matters as he was. He had gotten the bulk of leadership training from his youth and thus was better suited to listening to these stupid debates. He was quickly growing to dislike the high-and-mighty Lords as much as his wife.
"My Lord, Prince Aaron," one of the representatives for the Duma Princlet spoke with tensed respect, "how are we to feed your army if we have no farms to grow food? Already our winter stock has been tapped. Your dragons consume too much meat. Either we cut supplies to them or our common folk go hungry. We cannot support a Princlet with no common folk."
Dear gods, Mystic ground her teeth without showing her attention to the conversation outwardly. To them, she was nothing more then another woman. Only those rare intelligent ones knew her power and how to manipulate it. With her pregnancy into its fourth month, they had all the more leverage over Aaron. What do you want me to do? Tell the dragons to stop eating? Her pleas went unanswered and unvoiced. Any comment from her at this time would only be ignored anyway. A point she would have to remedy. You expect us to deliver a miracle but will have no part in fighting the battle. What if we weren't here? What would you do then, hmm? My only condolence is that a few of you have enough brains to realize you must help to bring about the miracle you speak so vhemently of. No doubt you will claim success for yourselves when it is over.
"My Lords," Aaron addressed the large assembly in stern tones, "as interesting and important as this conversation is, I must call a recess. The Council will recommense in an hour. Good day." He stood, officially ending any debate that had been going at the time. He knew very well he was skirting an issue that had been hovering in everyone's minds, but this debate was neither partial to, or necessary for Mystic's presence. A few of the Lords and representatives cried out their protests as he turned to help his wife to her feet. Aaron's gaze was impassionate as he held out his arm for Mystic and lead her towards the New Warren sitting room to the left side of the gigantic hall. The lack of expression on his face told Mystic everything she needed to know about the knot of anger that sat in his chest.
They strode towards the small, nearly invisible wooden door with brisk steps. Mystic's golden staff created a rhythmic tapping sound on the ground beside them, lost in the chaos of noise as the other Lords took their leave. She spared one glance to see her huband's rigid features and unmoving gaze but otherwise kept her focus on the door. He was angry, and for good reason. The day he had learned of her pregnancy he had declared that she was to "sit in the room and stay put." Mystic had disagreed, but not as fiercely as she did with other things. This was their first child after several failed attempts. Every dragon rider in the Warren tip-toed around her as if the slightest disturbance might cause this child to end in failure as well.
Mystic preceeded Aaron into the small, warmly lit room. Soft reds decorated the walls and furniture, blending with the golden hues of the torches that cast light down from high above. A small table and a few plants provided an air of comfort while wide, feather-cushioned sofas gave the room's occupants a chance to sit and rest. This room was reserved for those who could not attend the Council but had a matter of business with one or more of the Lords within. Currently, it was empty.
The red mage eased herself onto one of sofas, thankful for the weight taken off her tired feet. She curled up as best she could on the soft fabric, resting one arm over the wooden frame and leaning back to watch her husband pace; a habit he had picked up from her.
"Tell me again why I shouldn't just kill them all." He growled under his breath. His hands clasped and unclasped tightly behind his back, the knuckles nearly white from his tense grip. The swift 'step-step-step' pattern of his pacing created a repetative sound that seemed to ease some of his anger. He was most likely imagining what it would be like to storm back into that room and tell each and every one of those Lords where they should put their complaints.
"Because that woud be very uncivilized, dear heart." Mystic soothed in soft tones. A light smile played across her lips. She was tired and strained from the days activities but first she had to see to her beloved's temper. "Besides, without them we have no financial support."
"So?" Aaron scoffed with a faint shrug of his shoulders. The fluttering blue material of his cape jerked with the motion, fanning the edges into a flurry of activity before it settled to floating passively behind him again. Light glinted on the silver edges, lighting the midnight highlights of his short hair. "I'll kill them all then take over the world. Shouldn't be too hard." He sneered with a light smirk twisting his lips. "They're too damned fat to run anywhere."
Mystic chuckled softly, seeing the hint of mischief that glinted in his sky blue eyes. His impish plots were almost endearing at times. At other times, they were simply a nusience. "As interesting as that would be, my love, you can't."
He heaved a great sigh and finally stopped pacing. "I can. You just won't let me." Aaron smiled faintly, walking over to the sofa and taking a seat beside her. Mystic immediately shifted her position to curl into the fold of his arms. "I think you like them more then you admit." He laughed as she took a swat at his arm, a playful glare lighting her golden eyes.
"The day I like those pompous busy-bodies is the day you surpass me in magic." She laughed as he planted a feather-light kiss on her nose.
"I'm better then you in everything." Aaron grinned, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders and preventing her from squirming away to swat him again. She gave an indignant cry and struggled for a few moments but eventually subsided and relaxed against his chest. It was much more comfortable to do that then fight with her growing belly getting in the way. Aaron looked down at the swell of her dress and gently rested his hand over her stomach. A mixture of pride, worry and fear swept over his gaze. They had two foster children, both grown now, but this would be their first try at raising a child of their own making. If it lived.
"I should get you back to our den." His words were softer after the moment of silence. Warmth and affection crept into his heart as the woman he loved twined her fingers around his over what was to be their child. She smiled softly, waves of golden hair floating about her head and falling against his chest. She was so bright and fair compared to his navy tunic and almond tan. Though she had lived in the tropical regions for most of her life now, her skin had never darkened beyond a pale, golden hue. His, on the other hand, had always been dark, matching the cool colours in which he adorned himself as fluidly as her golden skin matched the warm, fiery colours of her choice. He grinned and stood, reaching down to lift her in his arms as he went. "Come on, I'll carry you."
"I'm still capable of walking." Mystic began to protest, knowing at once that it was futile. "Aaron Audil!" She huffed while barely containing a laugh. "You put me down this instant!" He swept her up in his arms and she was forced to stop her argument while finding balance by wrapping her arms around his neck. A low, annoyed growl escaped her lips as the blue rider began carrying her down the length of the New Warren tunnels.
"Geez Mystic, I knew the baby would put on some weight but I don't think it's all from that." Aaron teased, earning another swat to his shoulder from his indignant wife. He laughed quietly, the glint of mischief becoming a blaze. "I mean, you're only four months in and already you weigh a ton."
"Maybe you should just put me down if you're so weak." The red mage teased back, a playful smirk touching her lips.
"I'm not weak." Aaron scoffed. His gaze shifted to the intricate writing etched over each tunnel entrance as they came to an intersection of numerous paths. New Warren was still... well... new and even Mystic didn't know her way around the twisting and confusing tunnel system. Unlike the Warren, part of New Warren was built for dragon movement, thus needing extremely large paths and transportation systems that made human passage difficult. Even the Council Room was built on such a scale that more then twenty dragons could sit comfortably while their riders took up seats at the human sized table.
Mystic sighed contentedly, resting her head on his strong shoulder as he picked the quickest way to get to the Drakmor gardens. As long as she was being carried, she might as well enjoy it. The rest of the trip was made in reletive silence with only a few taunting comments from Aaron. She repremended him sharply with a light swat and threat that she would refuse to co-operate if he continued.
When they left the semi-darkness of the tunnels, both riders had to shield their eyes from the mid-day sun. Light sparkled over everything, giving the gardens a sparkling aura that seemed to be made of fairy dust. Flowers of every colour and scent imaginable carpetted the ground, blending from red to blue as easily as a painted sunset. Their heavy petals drooped over thin, delicate stems, which in turn were hidden by the thick ferns and tall grasses that grew everywhere but on the path. Trees stood sentinal over the fragile blanket of colour, their emerald leaves providing a canopy for those who walked the white pebbled paths. Breaks in the shadowy cover occured rarely. Only at the New Warren entrance, at which Mystic and Aaron stood, and at the castle gates seen not too far in the distance. Drakmor Castle seemed like a guardian dragon where it could be seen sending its spiked fingers into the sky. It sat poised on the cliff face, gray-washed and straight backed as it loomed over all it protected. Most of the view was blocked out though.
A large, blue shape stood uneasily on one of the garden's narrow paths. His folded wings settling clumsily against muscled sides that barely brushed the tree line. A diamond-shaped head stooped down so close to the ground, that the creature's hot breath stirred the small pebbles lining the walk. The bronze sized blue blinked as he noticed the emerging humans and whuffled a welcome to Aaron.
About time you two got out! Hurry up, Myrah'Care has something to tell you. A low, brassy voice, like the chiming of some great bell, rang in the minds of both humans. Aaron's bondmate wasted no time in lowering a shoulder and wing tip for his rider to climb up, the shifting of his claws creating gouges in the ground.
Aaron set Mystic on the ground, squinting in the overbearing sunlight. He hadn't expected to find his bondmate waiting for him, and so was slightly delayed in his reaction. After acknowledging Blakoreth's greeting, the blue rider helped Mystic to his side. He still didn't trust her to so much as breath on her own, and it showed in the gentle precautions he took to help her up. "What? What are you babbling about now?"
"Where's Myrah'Care?" Mystic quiried in confusion. The red mage was already half-way up the blue's side and finding it somewhat difficult to menover her bulk to a suitable seat on his shoulders.
I'm not babbling. She's in our den. Now hurry up! There was a note of urgency and joy bouncing in the Gallimim dragon's mental tones. Like their riders, Blakoreth and Myrah'Care had never been able to produce children. The reason being that Myrah'Care had contracted a rare birthing disease from her home world before it disappeared forever. She had been trying ever since to cure it.
You come prancing out here like a pup, refuse to explain yourself, and don't even contact me before hand. What's going on, Blak? Aaron's mental voice was coloured with worrisome blues and violets as he settled himself behind his wife. The sun streaking down from a cloudless sky beat warmth into his shoulders and the back of his neck, welcome after hours seated in the cool darkness of the Council Chamber. He ran a quick hand through his curled black hair before assuring his grip around Mystic's waist and nodding for Blakoreth to take off.
I assure you nothing's wrong, rider-mine. The gigantic blue responded as he flexed his coiled shoulder muscles. It took a bit more effort for him to get his large bulk in the air then it would a normal blue. Blakoreth was the size of an average bronze with a hide so dark, it might as well have been called black. Yet it was undeniable, bathed in white sunlight as he was, that he was an aged and noble blue. The scars marring his perfect figure spoke volumes of the battles he had fought in the Warren's name.
Blakoreth surged into the sky over Drakmor, catching a thermal found to be at a convinent location for arriving and departing dragons. All the air currents in the Lanutha Princlet had been found and charted as soon as the land had offically been signed over into Aaron's name. As long and tiresome an ordeal as that had been, it was worth it in the end. The dragonriders now had ground to stand on that could not be taken from them by the more disgruntled people of Magik. Blakoreth flared his leathery wing sails in the gentle day's breeze, using it to glide down to the Warren's flight fields rather then make the quick dive he usually did. With Mystic in such a delicate state, even he was being careful.
At last they came to a landing, barely 10 minutes away from their departure point. The sweep of Blakoreth's wings created a stir in the long, uncut grass, its glossy shine overcast by the shadow of his massive figure. Long talons dug into the soft earth, absorbing the shock of his landing when at last he could no longer support himself on the wind. The blue's sinuous neck curled around until he could look at the two humans seated on his back. The features of his draconic face were distorted by a lop-sided smile, the best a dragon could manage without bearing their teeth. Directly beneath his eyes was a lighter shade of blue, reflected from the whirling lights of his wide eyes.
Mystic and Aaron dismounted, the latter giving his bond a funny look as he studied the comical contortions of the dragon's muzzle. Mystic placed a hand over her belly and one on Aaron's arm to steady herself, her gaze seeking the familiar darkness of their den entrance before she even acknowledged that she was down from the blue's shoulder.
It's about time you three got here. The sweet, melodious tones of Myrah'Care's voice trickled through their minds like the splash of a spring brook. She was still not yet visible, except for the shifting shadows emerging from the den entrance that had caught Mystic's attention. If you had gotten here a moment later, I might have just gotten fed up and told everyone without you. Her larking voice had a haughty air to it that confused Mystic. Myrah'Care had never been one to hold herself above anyone else.
The grand dame of the Warren chose that moment to make her appearence. She strutted from the rock tunnel like a queen newly caught. Her elegant head was held high, tilted to the side to catch the full light of the sun. Every inch of her silver scales had been preened until they were smooth and flawless. Even the long scars left in her hide from battle seemed to flow across the silver's body as if by design. She fluttered her silven wings, striking a pose before her three admirers. The scales she had laboured to clean shone with a pale warmth. They radiated their own inner light, casting an aura about the dragonness like the hazy ring of a full moon. The striking fire of her eyes and stance was not from the sun. No external light source could produce the splendor that now draped the silven beauty like a robe.
"You're going to rise!" Mystic let out a breathy exclamation. One hand came up to cover the mage's open mouth. Her astonished gaze was rivetted to her bond. Though Myrah'Care had risen before, Mystic had the sense that something would be different now. The last time she had risen was just after she had contracted the birthing defect. She hadn't had the urge since, but now she sang with it.
Isn't it wonderful? Myrah'Care dipped her head to wuffle a warm breath over her rider. The flood of joyous colours in her mind nearly drowned Mystic, explaining to her what the dragonness felt better then any words Myrah'Care could use. E'rik and Ruana had been close to a solution for some time now. They just couldn't get it to work in life as it was supposed to in theory. But then Ruana figured out that the genetic structure of the solution was wrong! They had adapted the chemical from Old World dragons that had gone sterile. It would most likely work with them, but they had to make a few changes to suit it to me. E'rik says we're lucky Gepernas are so close in genetic make up, else it would have taken even longer.
Mystic listened, quite overwhelmed with the bubbly quality of her bond's words. Myrah'Care was usually a sedate, logical dragoness, as adept at political thought as the red mage herself. Yet here, the comparison to a giggling school girl would not have been far off. Mystic removed the hand that had clasped over her mouth, and instead placed it against her throbbing temple. Myrah'Care's assult of emotions had left her reeling. As strong as they would be to a normal mind, the combination of Mystic's heightened sensitivty and natural telepathy made of them a mental hammer to pound away at Mystic's growing headache.
The great silver started as she saw her bond sway on her feet. There was a glazed look in her golden eyes, even though she had stopped talking. Myrah'Care gave a soft, apologetic rumble and softened the overenthusiasm of her voice. It was a struggle to settle the butterflies dancing in her stomach, or the unconscious urge to leap into the air and trumpet her joy to the world. Somehow, Myrah'Care managed, returning a semblance of order to her mind.
I have been waiting for this for a long time, rider-mine. The tones that washed over Mystic's thoughts were cool and sweet now, as smooth as the metal Myrah'Care emulated. Blakoreth and I, we have planned where we want the flight to be held and by whom. I will tend to the details. All I ask of you is that you rest now, and attend no more of these fool meetings. I wish for our hatchlings to be born at the same time. There was a fond warmth in the silver's voice. Her star spattered eyes shone as blue as the sky above.
Mystic, having finally caught the tangled thread that was her thoughts, nodded her understand. She blinked to clear the fog that lingered behind her eyes, then fixed a clear gaze on the shining muzzle of her dragoness. Mystic smiled, submitting herself to the fretted ministrations of her bond and her husband with a soft laugh. "I suppose there's no way to avoid it this time, hmm?" The red mage mused with a smile. "Alright, I'll 'rest' for the duration of my pregnancy. But you must swear to bring me every detail of your flight arrangements. I refuse to be absent from that."
I swear it. Myrah'Care responded with an affectionate coo. She brushed the tip of her large muzzle against Mystic's open palm. Though her head was far too large for the 5'6" human to wrap her arms around, the great silver enjoyed a loving pet every now and then.
We should get going, Myrah'Care. Blakoreth rumbled in brassy pride. Baeris will need to know the location you've picked out. He broadcast his message to all three recipients, informing them that the Healing Den was their choice of sands. It only made sense. The Healing Den was well equipped for the kind of flight Myrah'Care had in mind, as well as being the only lair that was movable from one planet to another. A key figure in Myrah'Care's planning.
Yes, and you must be getting my rider into bed. Myrah'Care arched her neck down to wuffle a soft breath through Aaron's hair. The blue rider laughed, placing a hand on Myrah'Care's silver snout to assure her that he was moving, as well as to steady himself lest she give him an encouraging 'nudge'.
"Alright. Take off, both of you." Aaron said, wrapping his arm around Mystic's waist. The red mage had a scowl on her rose red lips, as if she would protest being 'put to bed' at any moment. Yet there was a sense, in her sensitive mind, that if she didn't do as told, Myrah'Care would refuse to indulge the details of her preparations until the last minute. Though Myrah'Care seemed to have a liking for keeping her rider in the dark.
As the two riders started off for their shared den, Blakoreth turned a curious golden gaze on his mate. You are going to inform me of your plans, right? The large blue quiried with a note of uncertainty in his ocean-deep voice.
Maybe. Myrah'Care cooed, swinging her head seductively to the side as she flexed her wings for flight. Maybe not.
A low grumble worked its way up Blakoreth's long throat. He shifted uneasily on the ground, waiting for her to lead the way. Already, the dark blue was getting protective of the one female he considered his; utterly and completely.
Myrah'Care felt the pulse of her muscles as she shot into the sky. Her wings fanned into the summer breeze, the taut leather snapping against its force. Silven claws curled up against her silven chest while the steady rhythm of her beating wings carried her higher and higher into the air. Her tail whipped back and forth for balance, at last settling straight out behind her as she let a strong updraft carry her towards cloud height. Blakoreth followed not far behind, his thoughts dark and brooding where they touched her mind. The silver dame of the Warren chuckled, turning her sleek muzzle around to see him. Her voice was a splash of light in his mind, coloured with happy blues and yellows. I wish to see my kin again, Blakoreth. She explained. This flight will be for you and I, but also for the brothers and sisters I haven't seen since my hatching. There are too few of us left, and I wish to change that. The bronze-sized blue powered his way up to her side. His wings, stretched far across the clear sky, spread a shadow over her shining scales, but could not extinguish her natural luster. Myrah'Care gave a sweet, sing-song purr to her mate, sweeping under him to touch her muzzle to his. You will see, my heart. At last, our children will fill the skies of the Nexus.
