The Dragon God

  Numerous trails split off into the immense, cavern-like room, weaving between the brilliant crystals shimmering in colors they had only seen in Heaven. The floor sparkled like a polished glass mosaic embedded into the ground. The crystalline forest grew in clusters from every surface and in every direction. Reflective images of the couple refracted throughout the chamber, capturing the colors of their clothing and absorbing them into the natural phenomenon.

  “It’s beautiful,” Abawken finally said. Raina grabbed his hand and tugged him inside, letting the gold door close.

  Raina’s voice glided smoothly, “The wedding is in just a few days. Soon we will be leading a great quest together, you and I. Before the other power-hungry Horn Kings advance on the territories, we will begin to set up leadership in the West. We will defend the freedom we won at such high costs there. My hope is that we will see a new kingdom of freedom born. But before we do all that, we have time for a small trip.”

  “A trip?”

  “Yes. I will summon Zeffeera and take you to a place I’d like to show you,” she smiled.

  “Are you going to tell me where?” Abawken wasn’t too keen for surprises, but wasn’t sure if he would explain that to Raina. She seemed so fond of them.

  “I will bring you to a place where the flowers sing in joy over the colors they wield. Birds chirp in chorus with the land, and cool breezes that roll over your body heighten your senses and lull you to rest.”

  Abawken stopped their stroll and looked into Raina’s eyes, “Can there be such a place as you describe?”

  She lovingly smiled and said softly, “I am taking you to Teras di Kimil; the Lily of the Valley. My home.”

  “I thought the elven kingdom of the Sheldeens fell in the wars.”

  “It did, but not my home. Zeffeera is the protector of the hidden valley, along with Neph.

  “Neph?”

  Raina grabbed hold of his arm and they began to walk again. She smiled as she continued, “Yes, Neph. She was a gift to me and I long to see her again.”

  “Another secret, my Raina,” Abawken toyed.

  “Nay, Neph is a dear friend and one that you will need to experience, as any description I offer will not do her justice. Now, tell me about your family and where you come from.”

  “I come from the province of Zoar in the far east, beyond the borders of the Horn King. The desert folk isolate from the outer lands and live by the rules of the Serriff.”

  “The Serriff?” she questioned.

  “Serriff Shellahk rules Zoar.” He waited for Raina to respond, and she did, as quickly as he expected.

  “Your father?”

  Abawken nodded.

  “Then I’m marrying a prince.”

  “No, you are marrying me, and that is how I wanted it. No titles, just a man, in search of meaning. Offering love.”

  “What other mysteries do you hold, my prince?” she mocked playfully.

  A distinct scent caused Abawken to freeze in place, catching Raina off guard.

  “Abawken, what is it?”

  “Impossible,” he muttered.

  “What is impossible?”

  “She found me,” a stunned expression on his face.

  “Who found you?”

  “She lets me know she is near when I smell the Lilac.”

  Raina laughed and walked a few steps away. She reached down between a cluster of purple and red crystals sprouting out from the ground and pulled out a bouquet of wild flowers, pale toned violet petals adorned the white candelions, and she deeply breathed in the smell as she brought it back to show him.

  “You mean this? I wanted to surprise you, but it appears my surprise is not working too well.”

  He sighed, “My apologies. That smell has been a nightmare to me recently.”

  “Abawken, you are mine and I am yours. I brought us here so we can share our lives, past and present. Our union must begin with honesty.”

  “My customs teach reservation, and that being outspoken can lead to misunderstanding, so silence and patience is better. We,” he paused, “we rarely like surprises, for example.”

  Raina smiled with understanding. “I see. Then you may count on fewer surprises from me in the future, and certainly from whomever has concerned you so. Remember, we are together. Your friends are now my friends, and your enemies are now my enemies.”

  “I have a lot to tell you,” he resigned.

  Devana walked the halls of the Shield, disguising herself as a lost refugee. She passed the sad, but hopeful faces, that slept along the corridor walls. It has been a long journey ever since the Serriff hired her services to bring back his son, but the complications of the matter have developed even further. She would be patient and study these heroes of Ruauck-El, in order not to get herself caught inside their long reaching grasp. The god summoning halfling had fallen, as evidenced by the grand funeral of state, but now Abawken prepared to marry the Sheldeen mystic, which brought another challenge.

  She tired of the peasant folk she milled around with in hiding and longed for the posh lifestyle she had become accustomed to. Tomorrow she would start establishing her presence among these adventuring friends of the sheik prince, and garner the information needed to push the stubborn fighter back to the desert of Zoar with the Sword of the Elements. Her reputation was on the line, and failure in her line of business showed others weakness.

  Devana crouched onto her meager bedding in the corner of a heavily populated refugee chamber, and turned, laid flat on her back, her hand draped over her forehead, eyes closed. The reek of body odor and unwashed clothes caused her to wrinkle her nose, but the heavy desire to sleep took over.

  The beautiful assassin waited at the threshold leading into the stark room. Her bounty, the wayward warrior, stood with his back to her on the far side.

  “There you are, Abawken. Your time is up,” Devana said, walking toward him.

  He did not respond to her as she approached. The room was dimly lit by a single candle; its dripping wax cascaded from its perch within the sconce hanging on the wall onto the wooden floor.

  “Are you going to try and resist me? As much as I’m humored by your feeble attempts,” she teased him as she reached out her hand to his shoulder. She continued to speak as she twirled him to face her, “But remember, I always get what I want.”

  Abawken remained silent and stared back at her. Devana noticed a strange confidence plastered on the human fighter’s visage.

  “Who are you?” Devana backed away.

  The tan warrior transformed into a female elf in her elegant lavender robes.

  The human assassin recognized her instantly. “Raina.”

  “Devana,” the mystic responded in kind.

  “Nice trick, Mystic. How did you get into my dream?”

  Raina stood and slowly strolled toward her. Devana backed to the wall.

  “This is my world, Raina. Your spells will not affect me here.”

  “I came to talk with you, and to arrange your boundaries moving forward.”

  “I have no boundaries, Elf. You have been out of the game for a while; things have changed.”

  “Being out of the game, as you call it, only means you have no knowledge of my power, maybe rumors but no knowledge. My warning to you: Abawken’s dreams are safe; you will no longer be able to see him. I have linked our minds, and we will be together if you ever try to visit him again, in this manner or in any other.”

  Devana composed herself, the shock of the situation melded away as she walked past the elf. Her back was now to Raina.

  “I was hired by his father to bring him, and specifically the sword, back. As soon as he submits, and the soon-to-be-married Prince comes home, then my job is complete.”

  “Only a job? Yet why do I suspect that your own tortured soul enjoys power over another?”

  Devana turned, “Yes, I do admit, I have enjoyed doing my paid duty, to retrieve your future husband.” Devana continued, “You should accompany us. His father is
very generous, and would love to meet his daughter-in-law.”

  “We will meet him on our own terms.”

  “Great feats can be accomplished in such an environment as this, my visitor.” Suddenly, two amorphous beings phased in from out of nowhere, standing just behind Raina, and grabbed her arms. The mystic did not resist, but kept her eyes on Devana, who slowly approached.

  “Here, my dear Raina, I am the master. I set the rules. I was trained by the Dream Walker Phelbias, in the Halls of Echoes. In this world, you need to show me a little respect. Abawken will be taken back home with or without you. Truly, I prefer without. Less messy that way.”

  Raina coolly replied, “Have you heard of Tsieken?”

  “Should I have?”

  “Well, it appears Phelbias didn’t teach you much then.”

  “Don’t try to understand my trainer, Raina. You are a mystic; your power lives in the waking hours. Any knowledge you have of Phelbias is only from your precious textbooks.”

  “I never read about Phelbias, nor heard of him before you.”

  Devana smiled and was about to speak, but Raina continued, “But Tsieken, which you have never heard of, trained a man named Balhka.”

  “Balhka? So?”

  “Balhka trained Seefa.”

  “Where are you going with this, Elf? I really have to be off with my bounty.”

  “I am giving you a history lesson of several generations of Dream Walker teachers. Teachers long before Phelbias.” Raina’s voice strengthened, and the calm and collected Devana faltered.

  “You have no power here, Raina.”

  The two faceless beings suddenly dissipated, releasing Raina. Iron bars formed all around the assassin, entrapping her inside a cage. Devana grabbed the cold metal in a panic, and looked around for an escape.

  Raina circled the perimeter and said, “You are only the master in the dreams you create. This is not your dream, but mine.” Realization and concern registered on Devana’s face, wondering what the powerful mage had in store for her. Raina continued, “I was trained five generations ago in all the arts of magic, including Dream Walking. I am the Sheldeen mystic, Devana. We are done here.” The elf turned and walked toward the exit.

  “Wait!” Devana called out, “What about me? You can’t leave me here. I will eventually wake.”

  Raina stopped, but did not face her, “I will release you, Devana, but be very mindful of the boundary I have set in place. You may inform Abawken’s father that he will return home, when he is ready.”

  Devana lurched forward, sitting upright, gasping for air, and sweating feverishly. She caught staring eyes in her direction as she came back out of the nightmare. Her heavy breathing slowed and then almost stopped, when she heard the distant echo of the elf’s voice inside her head, “Well met, Devana.”

  Abawken entered the chapel and stopped in his tracks at what he saw. The entire room had transformed, thanks to the druid, Rozelle. It was as though he was instantly transported to a sylvan forest. Where statues once reigned, there now stood glorious green trees glowing in the warm light of a Summer’s dusk. The once stone flooring was now a soft, moss-like grass, dotted with beautiful wildflowers in full bloom—the sensation of rich pollens completed the façade of the outdoors. Across the room an enchanting archway, laced with yellow and orange petals, prominently displayed on top of the former iced dais, now a grassy knoll.

  “Do you like it?” Rozelle asked excitedly.

  Abawken, mouth open, stuttered, “This is amazing, Rozelle.”

  “I did my best, asking the other elves and her brother what would look and feel like an elven wedding ceremony. I hope she likes it.”

  “Raina will be overwhelmed.”

  “You are too kind Abawken, but I think her eyes will be only on you, and not this trivial magic I’ve conjured. Now, get out of here and get ready.” Rozelle ushered him out the door and she returned back to her work, finalizing the remaining details.

  Abawken turned the corner and collided with the young boy, Jack. The fifteen year old had groomed his shaggy brown hair, parting it on the side and his grey eyes sparkled in the torchlight.

  The child, short of breath, said, “I thought I could help out.”

  “I must go get dressed, Master Jack, but you can ask Rozelle,” he pointed back into the chapel.

  Jack watched the swordsman, whose skills he had often admired, depart, and then he entered the room. He looked around in awe, until Rozelle snapped him back, “Can I help you?”

  “Uh, yeah, I thought I could help out with the wedding.”

  Rozelle chuckled, “You are cute, but I think I have it covered. Find Xan or Dulgin, they might need someone to help them.” She returned to her work as Jack backed out of the chamber.

  Jack had been struggling for weeks to find his place. During the army’s march to the Shield, he hadn’t had a soul to lean on. He missed his dad terribly, and every day doubted his decision to leave the Holy City, and his dad, in coming back to Ruauck-El, especially since his hero and only real friend, Bridazak, was gone. He felt out of place amongst all of these heroes. They had rescued him from King Manasseh’s castle, but now it seemed everyone was busy with their lives and he had no one. He longed for someone who would spend time with him.

  He watched Xan and Dulgin from the doorway, preparing for the grand event, and Jack realized he would not be needed. The boy sighed as he leaned against the door frame, witnessing the hustle and bustle of servants attending to everyone in the room, bringing in garments, drinks, and food. They all had each other and he resigned himself back to his room, carrying his head low.

  The beautiful sounds of harps accompanying a choir of elves set the tone for the monumental ceremony. The voices melodically captured the hearts of all in attendance. The smooth, alluring notes and the nature spectacle filling the room enhanced the glorious event.

  King El’Korr stood in the center of the flowered archway. A strand of gold-tasseled, entwined rope dangled around his neck and shined with his off-white robes. He beamed broadly as he waited for the bride to enter.

  Abawken waited anxiously in front of him, fidgeting slightly as he looked into the crowd of witnesses. His attire was regal but simple. His ivory jacket draped down to his knees, with the tail down to his calves, over his embossed boots. Silver clasps cinched the front together, while gold embroidery laced the edging along the collar and cuffs. Abawken strummed a few loose strands of hair behind his ear and took a deep breath, glancing over to Dulgin who stood beside him. The dwarf winked.

  Dulgin’s red beard, groomed with three braids, melded into his coppery silk tunic. He smiled as he nudged Spilf, who was looking as serious as he could, honored to stand with his friend.

  Three successive knocks alerted everyone that she was coming. The door cracked open. The music stopped and the singers silenced. All faces turned and watched the parade of the remaining Sheldeen elf race enter. Leading them was Xandahar and trailing behind were several attendants, paired up, side by side, all clad in light green, billowy clothes. They stepped in unison and then a song softly ignited. The voices of the women rang out, smooth and haunting. Then the men joined, deeply resonant, all blending perfectly. A candle, cradled in each of the attendant’s hands, reflected the sheen of their fabric and enhanced the ambiance. The processional stopped near the end of the path through the trees and parted from one another, creating an aisle. They turned to face each other, and knelt onto one knee.

  Raina stood at the threshold as the last elves positioned themselves. The melodic voices peaked to a crescendo as the glorious bride locked eyes with Abawken. Her white dress flowed over her slender frame, and long, billowing sleeves draped at her wrists. She held the same bouquet of flowers Abawken had given her, still alive and vibrant. A silver circlet with stamped intertwining leaves encompassed her head.

  Abawken couldn’t breathe, caught by her beauty. She slowly walked to the front and stood beside him. They grabbed one another’s hand and smiled.


  El’Korr began the ceremony, “Today we blend two heritages that the realm has not experienced before. Let it be known this union is ordained by God himself, and has the blessing of the elven father of the Sheldeens. Today will mark a new season of change.”

  The dwarven king continued the opening speech, while Trillius leaned against one of the trees near the exit, observing quietly. Rozelle joined him and nestled in beside him, “Isn’t this great?” she whispered.

  “How long are these ceremonies?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes, “Not long. You will be able to get back to your busy schedule soon enough. Such a romantic, you are.”

  “Well, I can be, if I wanted to.”

  “Besides your charm, what else is romantic to you?”

  “I can always boast how I almost became a god; that should get me far with the ladies.”

  “That is stupid, you almost died. Really, though. What is romantic to you?”

  Trillius paused and then smiled, “I get lost in your eyes.”

  “That’s nice.” Rozelle blushed.

  Trillius changed the subject, “You are heading out tomorrow for your nature time, right? I think I’m gonna hold up here until you get back.”

  “Shhhh, they are going to give their vows.”

  Abawken took a deep breath and began, “My eyes have been opened by our amazing God in the Holy City. I began a journey to fulfill the mission he showed me, and now I am beginning another, not just to live, but to love. I will love you all the days of my life, here, now, and beyond, and will protect you with strength, and serve you with humility, with all the best I have to give—this is my solemn vow.”

  Trillius quietly yawned midway through, and was elbowed by Rozelle. He furrowed his brow at her, “What did I do?”

  “Nothing. That’s the problem,” she countered.

  Abawken placed a blue frosted diamond ring on Raina’s finger, “In the province of Zoar, my homeland, we exchange rings to mark our union. With this ring, we are united.”

  Raina smiled and then in turn spoke, “Learning and garnering deeper knowledge in the arts of magic have always been my greatest passion. I am thankful to you, my Abawken, for now I will passionately study this art of love, friendship, pursuit, and unity. Our legacy of love will be a beacon for all mankind. I take you as my husband from this day forward—this is my solemn vow.”