On the Edge of Rose River

1 – The Rose

Birger dropped from the clouds silently, his scales gleaming with condensation. He enjoyed the feeling of the mist on his face as he flew through the dark mass of water vapor. Soon the clouds would let loose a torrent of rain, bright streaks of lightning, and rolling thunder that will shake the earth. Birger could feel it as he flapped his massive wings and filled his eyes with the beautiful country before him. The sun was trying to break through the clouds, and even managed to shine through for a few short minutes.

Mortal men would often piss themselves in fear and flee upon looking up and seeing Birger flying high above them. For this reason, he did not often fly near cities or the many caravans that he had spotted from afar. More caravans every month it seemed. Although this was not his only reason. As fearsome as he looked flying high above, any traveler who happen to see Birger’s shadow would certainly have some questions.

There are few mortal men living past the great Green Gate. Many have left but none have yet returned, at least that is what the stories say. The few that survive turn evil, go feral, and live out their days in madness. Birger knew the stories were all bullshit, and the citizens of Fourpoints were starting to see the truth. Elves, gnomes, fairies, and plenty of other magical beings have all lived and loved out here for centuries. If he were to wager gold, Birger would guess that the governor of Fourpoints is responsible for the outlandish tales. For once someone leaves the city, they were free from the crushing yearly taxes. So it was that Birger found himself flying above the Rose River on this day.

Dragons have always been known for wielding the awesome power of fire. Even so, dragons do get thirsty. The idea of a dragon’s fire being doused by water is outrageous and dangerously ignorant, as more than one would be dragon slayer has learned. With a storm quickly approaching, Birger flew low, towards the river called Rose. As he closed in on his landing, Birger heard a queer sound. It was a sound he knew but had not heard in many years, it was the sound of a crying babe.

Most babies, while not understanding what Birger was, would none the less be terrified at what they saw. This baby was different. Once the babe had noticed the dragon circling down towards him, the crying ceased and was replaced at once with laughter. Birger landed but was unable to move. He could see the figure on the ground, it was male, one or two years old, barely a toddler. Laying close by was a woman, her arm outstretched towards what Birger guessed was her son. She was lying in a pool of blood; Birger could smell the warm rusty scent. A trail of blood ran from the woman towards the river.

“Human...” Birger knew human blood when he smelled it. When Birger first heard the cries, he was sure it was an Elvin babe or some other Fairy folk who preferred to give birth near or in water. But a human baby, this was worse, much worse. The babe was looking at the dragon without fear, but curiosity. Birger began walking towards the child. Within the twenty or so paces it took to reach the him, Birger had changed from a dragon to a man. Birger picked up the boy, who laughed at the neat trick.

2 – The Lily and The Tulip

The rain started just as Birger laid the woman in her grave. He began shoveling in the wet dirt as fast as he could. He finished the task quickly despite the rain and made his way back to the cave, his boots squelching with every step. The fire was warm and the boy was still asleep, but Birger knew he would wake again soon, driven from sleep by hunger. He gave the boy the last of the goat's milk he had, which was not much. He needed to find a village, somewhere with people. But first, he must find out what happened to the boy’s people. He thought about just leaving, fearing what he would find. But if there was a chance the boy could be raised by his own people, then Birger thought it worth a look. With his pack slung across his back and the boy sleeping snug against his chest, Birger started to walk. When he arrived back at the Rose River, he stopped and considered what lay ahead. The woman obviously came across the Rose.

“But how far did she travel before she got here?” Birger wondered.

Did she cross the Tulip River as well? The Rose is the longest of the three flowers, the name given to the rivers Rose, Tulip, and Lily, which all flow into Flower Lake. Tulip is the deepest of the three, and the Lily is the wildest, with waterfalls and treacherous currents. Birger knew of at least two Elvin villages along the Lily, so he was sure the woman lived closer to the Tulip. With his path chosen, Birger crossed the Rose and made his way towards the Tulip River.

3 – The Red River

It was not a far journey this close to Flower Lake, both the Rose and the Tulip run almost parallel to each other for the last ten miles to Flower Lake. But further upstream the Tulip turns ninety degrees towards its humble beginnings in the mountains. The storm had raged as he walked through the trees, his cloak protecting the boy from the worst of the elements. Even with the roaring thunder and bright flashes of lightning scarring the sky, the boy did not make a sound. Birger did have certain magics he could call upon such as he did when he first laid the boy down to sleep while he buried his mother. But the boy did not make a sound during the treacherous trek from the Rose to the Tulip, he simply watched Birger as he walked. The sky had dried up and only the sound of water dripping from tree branches remained as Birger approached the place which was once the babe’s home. The boy could sense in his heart what Birger was seeing with his own eyes, and began to cry.

He could see the smoke as he entered the clearing. The rain had stopped the fire, but not before it burned most of everything that was standing. There were only a few buildings in the settlement to start with and they were all reduced to ash and rubble. It was quiet except for the crying of the toddler. Birger could smell the death, even without his dragon’s sense of smell. Burned meat had never smelled so disgusting to him. He searched the area but found only death. Many had tried to run as the boy’s mother had done. But it seemed most if not all were run down before they could cross the river. The water turned from clear to red as it flowed past the settlement and mixed with the blood of the villagers.

“There must have been dozens of them, and mounted,” Birger said to himself as he continued to survey the area. The villagers had a variety of wounds, from sword cuts to ax blows, but most were killed with arrows.

“Disgusting,” he said. The cowards must have hidden in the trees, releasing volleys of arrows. Then they entered the settlement and finished off the remainders. Birger gathered what supplies he could find in the carnage and left the people where they lay, arrows and all. He hated himself for doing it, but he knew he could not bury them all. They were dead and he had a living, breathing child. That was his responsibility.

Birger knew the boy was hungry but did not want to stop until he was far away from the carnage at the settlement. It was not a good place to be and whoever committed those atrocities could still be in the area. Birger stopped near sundown, judging them to be safe enough. He started a fire to give the boy some much needed heat. Birger was fine though, he never got cold. Birger fed the boy and then himself, after which he laid down and watched the fire as the trees swayed behind the flames. He knew where he had to go next but was dreading it.

Flower lake was beautiful and isolated, it was a magical place for those who knew of it and were welcome. Birger had not visited in many years, not since the last time he had spoken to her. He had even gone as far as avoiding flying over the lake. Getting there on foot was going to be a tough journey, but it could not be helped. He had to see her, he had to see the fortune teller.

4 – The Fair Folk

Every child has heard tales of the Fair folk, their legends as numerous as the folk themselves. Made up of many different races with their own laws, customs, and culture, these beings live out their long lives away from mortal man. While much of the folk still reside in the Land of Faerie, small bands of warriors, adventurers, and traders have left over the centuries. Birger knew of many small settlements of elves along the rivers, and there were plenty of tales of sprites causing mischief to lost travelers. The sprites loved nature, and man, who so viciously fights against nature, should never look to a sprite for help. There were too many trolls wandering around, in Birger’s opinion at least. They had expanded from simple bridge tolls to river tolls and road tolls, and now they simply take what they want. Many people regard brownies and hobgoblins as characters in their fairy tales, but Birger could guarantee that most dwellings in Fourpoints had a brownie or two. The more annoying residents would be more likely to find a hobgoblin in their midst, and rightly so. Birger had even met a dwarf who left Faerie long ago to build cities in the mountains. Birger tried to inquire more but the dwarf in question had no intentions of revealing the locations of such wonders.

The Fair folk are exceptionally beautiful, wise beyond years, and notoriously obnoxious when it comes to mortals, as they consider them to be less than those who dwell in Faerie. The Fair folk who made their home at and around Flower Lake are less obnoxious as they have spent more time around mortal men. Even so, they can be an unpleasant bunch if you are an unwelcome visitor with unwelcome news. While Birger was well known at Flower Lake, one could even say that he was well liked by a select few, he was sure that he would be treated as an unwelcomed visitor today.

Birger had followed the Tulip as it meandered its way toward Flower Lake. He had not considered the river’s tendency to bend unnaturally, sometimes coming back into itself before it straightened out again.

“Ten miles, just ten miles....as the fucking dragon flies,” Birger said to himself hours later.

The simple ten-mile journey took all day and he did not arrive at the outskirts of the lake until just before the sun went down.

5 – Flower Lake

Flower Lake was unequally beautiful; it was a place of worship for the Fair folk who arrived here centuries ago. It soon evolved into a place of refuge for those who did not belong in the world of men but who would not, or could not go back to Faerie. Before Flower Lake was given its name, it was a large fortified tower used in the wars that ravaged the land over a century ago. Ringed around the tower was a wall of stone with more stone walls, set apart in equal distances, shooting out like fingers. Each finger was surrounded by water and stretched to about twenty feet from shore. They named the fortification, the eye. When the wars ended and the lands emptied, time and nature took back the lake. The tower crumbled and the fingers quickly followed. All that is left is a large island in the center of the lake and a half dozen of the finger walls barely breaking the surface of the water. When the elves first arrived, the fingers were still visible and the lake and old fortifications resembled a flower, so it was named.

The three flowers, also known as the rivers Tulip, Rose, and Lily, all flow into the lake from the east. On the far west side of the lake, the water exited and became the great Goliath River. Birger stood at the confluence of the Three Flowers and Flower Lake with the boy bundled against him. Now he needed to walk around the lake until he found one of the floating bridge crossings that allowed access to the island. Birger surveyed the area as he made his way around the lake. The town had grown since the last time he had visited or even flown above the lake; it was a proper city now. The Fair folk who lived here did not have a name for their city, they simply called it Flower Lake and Birger thought it was quite appropriate. Men always have the need to name everything, whether to lay claim to something, to make oneself seem more impressive, or simply to have a name to call something, Birger did not know. Take Fourpoints for instance, not only do they name the town but the four ways in and out of the town as well. The Green Gate, the Beach Gate, the Mountain Gate, and the Sun Gate. The governor of Fourpoints even named his humble abode, Blackbird Keep. Birger was sure the name was meant to invoke majestic feelings in the populace he governed.

When Birger arrived at the floating bridge he hesitated, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing, the necessary thing. He steeled himself, pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and walked across the bridge. What was once total silence except for the music of the river and the birds, was now a cacophony of sounds and sights. He was on the island and the world was filled with life all around him.

6 – The Fortune Teller

The streets were lined with shops, meeting halls, and eateries. Goblins and dwarves were busy at their forges making everything from ornate armor to gold pendants. All to be sold to the large towns and cities whose inhabitants will never know the true source of their goods. But they will forever be in awe of the artisanship. A group of elves were training with sword, spear, and bow, preparing for battles they hoped to never fight. Pixies and fairies raced through the streets at incredible speeds, weaving and dodging passersby, who did not seem to mind or even notice the street racers. Birger was hungry so he decided to stop for a bite. All the food in Flower Lake was the same, that is to say, all the food in Flower Lake was delicious. So, Birger stopped at the first place he saw, unconcerned about the quality. He sat down, ordered, and made himself comfortable in a dark corner. Soon, a roasted chicken and a beer was brought for him and a bladder of warm milk was brought for the babe.

Full and content, but uneasy about what came next, Birger made his way out onto the street. He had been hoping for a quiet stroll through the town after his meal, but the town was more raucous than before. Street musicians had now appeared as the evening approached, the soft notes of their flutes and strings followed the travelers as they drew ever nearer to their destination. Birger did not realize it at first but he had slowed his pace, then he stopped. Fair folk passed him, unconcerned about the hooded stranger stopped in the middle of the street.

“You are a fucking dragon, what are you scared of?” Birger said to himself, scornfully. His feet began moving again but he did not get far before a loud voice sounded from behind him.

“You there! Stop!”

Birger did not look around, instead he quickly turned a corner, looking for a refuge. But there were none to be had, everywhere Birger turned there were people, more guards appeared from the opposite end of the street. Birger turned around hoping to backtrack but it was no good, the first guard was standing there looking right at him. He was an elf with short reddish gold hair. He was not royalty from Faerie but a close relation at least. The soldier smiled and began to speak.

“And where do you think you are going my mysterious friend? Ah just as I thought, not so mysterious in the end,” said the elf as he pulled Birger’s hood down. “Hello Birger, the Lady of Flower Lake would like a word with.... what is that you have there? Under your cloak?”

“None of your business,” Birger replied icily.

“That is the wrong answer, skin changer,” said the elf has he raised a sturdy oak cudgel.

Before the blow fell, another voice sounded from behind a group of onlookers who had gathered. This was a voice Birger recognized immediately.

“Pasquill! That will not be necessary, he is here by my invitation.”

The elf, who also recognized the voice, lowered the cudgel, put it back in its holster, and greeted the woman who now approached them.

“The lady has requested a meeting with the skin changer called Birger, he must come at once,” said the elf as he bowed to the woman.

“Did your orders invite you to harass and assault the skin changer? Possibly bringing death and destruction down upon us all? You call him what he is, a skin changer, so I must assume that you know what the man... and the beast is capable of? I must tell you that I am not impressed with your brash and arrogant behavior, Pasquill. It is purely by the skin changer’s good graces and unending reservoir of patience that you have not been roasted like a duck. Tell the good lady that she will have her meeting when Birger has concluded his business with myself. As I said, he is here by my invitation.” The woman did not wait for the reply from Pasquill but immediately took Birger’s arm and led him through the thicket of people towards her tent.

7 – The Fortune

72 years ago

It was dark in the tent; the only light came from a single candle set on the table in front of him. Birger looked intently across at the figure sitting opposite him, her face danced in the light. She was beautiful and terrible at the same time; each time the light revealed her face, Birger thought he was in love. But as the shadows displaced the light, her features became primal and haunting, as if she has lived a hundred lifetimes filled with chaos and fear. Birger and the woman were holding hands across the table with the candle in the center and all was silent.

“Why have you come to see me, Birger?”

“I have come to receive my fortune.”

“Yes, as many others before you have done,” said the fortune teller. “But what fortune do you seek? Love? Longevity? Death? What answers do you seek?”

“I seek purpose, my purpose. I have done...” Birger hesitated, not sure how to go on, but on he went anyway. “I have done things I am not proud of. Things I wish I could forget. I do not know if there is such a thing as redemption, but I cannot believe that this is what is meant for me. Is this all I am? Is this all that is left of me in this world? Is there nothing more? I need a purpose. I need to cleanse my soul.”

“Redemption is like a unicorn, a rare and elusive creature, not easily found, not easily caught.”

“Is there no hope then?” Birger asked.

“Hope is like a rabbit, abundant and delicious, but easily lost.”

“I do not understand,” said Birger.

“Blood, a boy, and a bond. There will come a time when you will be presented with a choice. It may not seem like it at the time but you will realize later, that you made the choice without thinking. This is the start of the path of redemption. A long, winding, and treacherous path. You will make mistakes along the way to be sure, but follow the path to wherever it leads you and there will be your redemption.”

Present

This time the lighting was better. The tent was spacious and filled with the fragrance of lilac and juniper. The fortune teller was once again seated opposite Birger, but this time there was a third person sitting off to the side. She was laying out tarot cards, reshuffling, and laying out the cards again. Birger wondered who she was but quickly moved on once he saw that the fortune teller would not elaborate.

“Blood, a boy, and a bond. Over seventy years ago, you told me that I would be presented a choice. Well, here I am and the choice has been made. I found him on the edge of Rose River, his mother was dead.” Birger carefully held the toddler out towards the fortune teller but she made no move to take the baby from Birger’s arms. Instead, the woman with the tarot cards came over and took the child. He watched as the woman sat down and began to feed the babe from her breast, Birger looked away quickly, feeling embarrassed. “What shall I do now?” Birger asked the woman.

The fortune teller smiled at Birger’s red face but did not say anything more about it. “What do you want to do now?

Birger thought about it and then replied. “I could have just kept flying, I could have eaten the poor babe... but I did not.”

“No, you did not,” agreed the fortune teller.

“I want to take him with me. I want to name him. I want to raise him. I want to protect him,” Birger said it with conviction and finality.

The fortune teller smiled again and nodded. “What will happen on the day you must say goodbye? When the day comes when you can longer protect him, hmm?”

“When that day comes, I will face it with bravery. One cannot stop fate.”

“I suppose not,” said the fortune teller. “I suppose not.”

8 – The Path to Redemption

Birger and the tarot woman were walking with their escort through the halls of Sunflower Hall, the seat of the Lady of Flower Lake. Birger was still thinking about the conversation he had just finished with the fortune teller.

“This is Chalet, she will be accompanying you from here. She is a witch, and an immensely powerful witch, at that. She will be the boy's mother and teach him the ancient ways of magic. When the boy is sixteen years of age, you will bring him to see me once more. Is this acceptable?”

“If this is the path then I shall follow it,” said Birger.

“Good. Next, you will see my sister, Ellenoir. She is the Lady of Flower Lake so you cannot refuse.”

“What does she want? The last time I saw her...”

“That is not important. What is important is that she will ask you to fight for her.”

“And what shall I say?” Birger asked.

“That is entirely up to you, this is your path to follow. I can only start you down the path,” said the fortune teller. She turned away and left without another word.

The conversation was a short one. Lady Ellenoir, who had all the beauty of her sister but without the terrible shadows, explained how the governor of Fourpoints was responsible for the carnage along the river Tulip. And that we will not stop there. She explained how there have been caravans of people leaving the city through the Green Gate. Tales of the freedom that awaited them beyond the gate had indeed made it to the town, Birger thought. Ellenoir explained how the governor was now exacting his revenge by sending his soldiers out on long hunts to find and destroy his former citizens and anyone else they find, including Fair folk. Birger declined to get involved, stating that he had seen enough of war and he would not be wielded as a weapon again. He wondered why the Fair folk would get involved with the affairs of mortal men when they have historically avoided confrontations with them, even when provoked. They were unceremoniously escorted out as soon as Birger was finished talking. As they walked back over the floating bridge, Birger turned to Chalet and asked her if she thought he had made the right choice.

“It does not matter; we would still be here now and what will happen.... will happen. It is the path.”

9 – The Burned Town

Birger lived less than a day's journey from Flower Lake, as the dragon flies. On foot, the journey was significantly longer. They had been traveling for three days, making frequent stops to rest, and feed the baby. Birger figured they had at least another half a day left on their journey back to his home. They had been walking through a thickly wooded area when they came out into an open meadow. That was when they came upon the first indications that something was terribly wrong. Across the meadow where the trees should have been, there was only smoke. All that was left was ash and a few toothpicks where great trees once stood so proudly.

The witch, Chalet, stopped and turned towards Birger. “Look, skin changer, do you know who set that fire?”

“Of course,” replied Birger coldly. “We will cut left and circle back around when we reach the Lily River.”

When they arrived at the Lily, they turned right and began walking upriver, smoke still rising from the fire to the east. After about an hour of walking upstream, the travelers stopped to eat and rest before the last leg of their journey. Birger decided to try his hand at some fishing. His lure had barely touched the water when everything seemed to happen at once. A fish struck and the babe began to cry, a split second later a figure burst from the undergrowth and stumbled into Birger’s arms. He dropped his fishing pole into the water with the fish still attached. It was an elven girl, no older than thirteen years. Blood fell to the ground from the three arrows sticking out of her back. Birger caught her and lowered her to the ground as carefully as he could, she was trying to speak but it was hard to understand her with blood pouring from her mouth. He looked at her lips as she tried to speak one last time and made out two words.

“Soldiers... Fourpoints.”

Birger held her as she took her last shuttering breath and lay still. He looked at Chalet, who smiled wryly as she saw the intent on Birger’s face.

“This is the path,” she said.

“This is the path,” Birger agreed. “Do you know the rest of the way?”

Chalet nodded. “I will see you again at the place you call home.”

Birger had changed skins and was flying skyward in seconds, his wings causing the trees to sway and Chalet to brace herself against a nearby rock.

It did not take the dragon long to spot Fourpoints in the distance. Smoke was rising from many chimneys and soldiers stalked the streets. He approached silently from high above and when he was over the center of the town, he dove. He picked up speed as Blackbird Keep came into view but Birger did not strike the tower, not yet. He let loose a great plume of fire that engulfed entire streets, the soldiers screaming as they were cooked alive in their metal armor. The dragon circled around and set the Green Gate ablaze; the gate exploded with the heat, and large sections of the wall crumbled to the ground. The fire was spreading and half the town was now on fire. Birger left the citizens to flee and turned towards Blackbird Keep and his query.

The fat governor was an easy target, sitting atop the largest horse in sight, splendid in his gold armor. The fire that came forth from the dragon filled the courtyard, entered the tower, and came bursting from the top like a candle. Birger was careful to leave the governor, who had fallen from his flaming horse, for last. Soldiers ran in every direction, panicked by the dragon and the fire. Birger landed and began spitting fire at anything that moved, his tail thrashed, crushing men and horse alike until there was nothing left alive except for the cowering governor. Birger approached the cowered as he changed from dragon to man. He lifted the governor up and help him against the wall.

“Do you know who I am?” Birger yelled at the man but did not wait for an answer. “I am Birger the skin changer, Birger the dragon, and I am redemption!”

Birger was a dragon again; he flew out of the burning courtyard with the governor of Fourpoints dangling beneath him. Higher the dragon flew and higher the screams from the man became. Finally, and without warning, Birger dropped the man out of the sky. His long scream was cut off when he hit the burning tower and disappeared inside.

Birger flew away from the burning town without looking back, or giving it a second thought. He flew home thinking about the boy he found on the edge of Rose River and what name to give him. Sigurd, he would name his son Sigurd.

The End