In Shavasta, the air was clear and clean, partially from being elevated on the slopes of Mt. Cornelius, and partially because the magic that was used throughout everyday life here infiltrated into very air around it. Lora took a deep draught of that air now, trying desperately to ignore the foreboding feeling that had taken up an uncomfortable residence in the pit of her stomach. The cold air loosened the knot of anxiety in her throat enough that she could think clearly without it distracting her.
This feeling had woken Lora out of a deep sleep when the moon was on its descent into the horizon. She had wandered out of the large room that served as a bedroom to herself and her mate, Marius, careful not to wake him up in the process, and eventually made her way to the hothouse. The hothouse had always been a place where Lora could clear her mind and calm her soul; the plants and flowers seemed to absorb her worries and cares as they absorbed sunlight.
But tonight she found that not even the peace of this place could erase the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
Eventually, the blue-scaled dragon reached the end of the path in the form of a circle of willow trees, their long branches reaching down to brush the white stones that defined the circle. In the center was a huge stone object. Its flat bottom merged with the earth beneath it as its far end soared up and curved over it, forming an awning to keep the burning rays of sunlight, magnified as it was by the glass overhead, from reaching an occupant who chose to rest there. On either side, the stone fell from the top of the awning to the floor, carved into the likeness of a waterfall.
Lora lowered herself down in between the cradling arms of the two stone waterfalls and rested her back against the stone behind her. Her golden eyes closed as she rested her head on her front legs and tried to sleep, but Saru, the god of dreams and peaceful rest, perversely refused to visit her. Sighing, she shifted to a more comfortable position and tried again. This time, a muted thumping, echoing through the ground was keeping her awake. Thinking maybe her massive heart�s pounding was sending these vibrations through the ground, she turned to her other side so her heart was not touching the ground, and yet the sound continued. She listened a moment longer, puzzled, and then realized that it was growing louder, as though coming toward her. Soon it was like the sound of thunder, echoing not only through the ground beneath her, but also through the air, reaching the ear not pressed to the ground as well and making her head resound with its cadence.
Sitting up once more, Lora whipped around and rushed toward the exit. Glass doors swung open before her at the merest nudge of her glistening navy-blue head and she was through them and standing beneath the full glare of the moon before they were even halfway shut. Head up and back arched, the female dragon stood at full alert, sensing the other dragons� alarm. Whirling around a corner, she stood at the side of the road that wound through Shavasta and as she watched, its inhabitants rushed past her, the wind caused by their hasty movement whipping her face like a thousand needles. Some dragons had even taken to the air, huge wings pounding the air and sending it ground ward. Fledglings and babies scampered beneath their parents� legs, trying to keep up and not be trampled at the same time.
She called out to a young orange dragon as it passed her. He swerved out of the group and came to stand before her, panting slightly from the exertion of running, but remembering to lower his head in respect for her superior age.
�Yes, venerable one? Is there something you need?� He asked and Lora was pleased that his tone was just as respectful as his youth demanded even though he voice shook with anxiety.
�Why is everyone running toward the gates?� the female dragon asked. And then a horrible thought hit her, �Is there an invasion of some sort?� She automatically lowered herself closer to the ground in an offensive stance.
�No, venerable one, there is no invasion. The sentries have reported that one of the fire-people is approaching our gates. The woman appears to be wounded and is carrying something in front of her. We can�t tell what it is yet because it is covered with her cloak. We�re all going to help her in case she�s been followed by a human or, worse yet, a mage.� The last word was spit out of the young one�s mouth like venom.
The sense of foreboding that had been haunting her all night, now took a firmer grip on Lora. �Alright, thank you�� she paused a moment, waiting.
�Daken, venerable one.� He supplied
�Daken, then. Thank you.� And with that, Lora had taken to the air as Daken rejoined his fellows in the road.
The fabled Gates of Shavasta loomed ahead of her as she flew nearer. The limestone and marble walls shone with muted light and the engravings gilded in silver and gold glinted in a bright reflection of the stars, soft where the sun would have made them harsh and garish to the eye. The Gates themselves were also made of silver with gold twined around it like some creeping vine that never grows and never dies. They were huge, over seven dragon-lengths tall and five wide; only three dragons pushing together could move them from their resting place in the mountainous ground. Now the ramparts were lined with dragons of every age and color packing together and looking outward. Tongues of flame hovered over the scaled heads, shedding an orange light on everything below.
Many tales surrounded these walls. Some said they were enchanted and moved along with the rest of the city, jumping from place to place, preventing discovery. Other people who rejected the notion of a whole city vanishing from one place to reappear in another claimed that they were invisible but if one happened to stumble upon them, the very stone would open and swallow them whole, spitting out the bones. The last was usually said in overly graphic detail to small children who enjoyed wandering too close to Mt. Cornelius and its twin, Mt. Silvian.