Souls of Magic

There weren't always dragons in the Valley. A thousand years or more had passed since the Great Rift, when they presumably disappeared. Lately, dragon activity increased in parts of Traegus. Ancient theories purported they did not disappear, but merely shifted form.

Everyone knew Clayborn Valdratan, the First Shifter, member of the Council of Magic, became a dragon when the Rift closed. The Great Lord Dragon Valdratan ended their presence when he helped destroy all magic and then surrendered his own magic to Seal the Rift. After his long reign, no dragons were seen again..

History books claimed the Council of Magic destroyed all magic—wild magic, free magic, magic that could be wielded by a User. Magic that created the Great Rift. The Council relentlessly pursued propaganda to Control the Rift and end Magic Use. They sacrificed everything they loved for fear the Rift would return and destroy all life.

Most skeptics felt magic continued into a genetic form, fully doubting the influence of the Rift was over. Odd genetics appeared to follow the Descendants of the Council in various ways. For the Valdratans, the gene was a shape-shifting for hundreds of generations.

Control the Rift became a distant tale shrouded with intrigue. The years tempered foul tastes of the Council’s fierce actions. Fear replaced hatred, doubt of magic’s existence at all, spreading. Only those who lived near one of the Descendents knew the truth. Of their dark, grisly past mired in destruction. Hidden magic, the genes of the Descendants, balancing the planet away from chaos. A balance now in question as Arydaens reported dragons in the Azure Mountains.

Some say the dragons' return to Arydae, one of dozens of nations on Traegus, meant magic, wild magic, uncontrolled magic, was growing. Others, the Rift never closed or was reopening. Dragons only meant one thing to the majority of Arydaens, Valdratan control of magic was waning.

After all, Emperor Phalcon Valdratan’s first born son, Prince Corinth, failed to shift during puberty, the time expected to see a transformation. Princess Zenithia Valdratan, second in line, had not shifted in her first years of puberty either. She still had two more years to possibly transform.

Dragons sighted in the mountains were bad enough. The recent sighting in Aurea Vallis, the House Valdratan stronghold, pushed many over the edge. They fled to the protection of Castle Aeterunspyr, a towering, white spired castle and Capital City of Arydae. They hoped dragons did not mean impending doom for all. The skeptics stayed in the fields, working.

Arydaens described Emperor Phalcon Valdratan’s rule as kind but perhaps too kind. The Tanzaran war brutalized many. Phalcon lead the charge to protect his people, but it cost him dearly. Supply chain across a valley, over the mountains to confront mountain people proved too hard to end the continuous border assaults. The sudden decision to end it all with a Trial by Marriage angered many. Add the genetic failure of his son, Phalcon faced immense problems with little solutions. Truly, the worst timing and coincidence a ruler could be dealt. At least Tanzara agreed to the Marriage Terms and ceased all border disputes.

Zenithia Valdratan, tired of the rumors of her latent shapeshifting abilities and discussion of the arranged marriage, left Aeternuspyr frequently to escape. No one doubted her need. A secluded pond near the eastern edge of Aurea Vallis collected her senses away from city life and absurdities. The pond laid its golden cradle before sprawling, emerald pines with immense depth which eventually lead to the Silver River separating Arydae from Tanzara deep in the Azure Mountains.

Dragons did not scare Zenithia. She snorted, very unladylike. She knew the history. Had been forced to study every boring decade of it. Only the books about magic kept her interest in History. “Ladies” her mother, Empress Eileen, extolled in her pinched, tight lipped voice, “especially ones born to House Valdratan, must comport themselves with decorum.”

Decorum included such mind-numbing hogwash as needlework and fancy lettering, healing, philosophy. Like they help in war.

She wriggled her back against the willow tree she leaned on, trying to satisfy an annoying itch. As she scratched, she searched the golden horizon beyond the pristine pond laid out before her feet. “Where is he…?”

“Waiting for Corinth was often like waiting for grass to grow,” she thought. Or Sound Mass to end before her stomach grew too loud to bear. The stomachs of ladies should not growl.

Decorum. Etiquette. The two most vile words she ever heard. She rubbed a bit harder on the tree. Its limbs took no heed, flowing carelessly on the pond that danced in gold in the waning sun.

Two blue herons strutted through the water near some reeds. Their long, delicate legs took cautious steps forward, following silver-colored fish barely noticeable under the dancing waters. One stabbed its bill into the water, withdrawing a madly flapping fish.

She felt like that fish of late, out of place at her palace home as she fought customs and rules. She watched the heron swallow the fish whole, gulping herself at the thoughts of the upcoming and dreaded marriage. Soon, the life she knew would be swallowed whole too. Her outdoor freedoms, sword-fighting drills with her brother and fantastic adventures in the woods would be over.

The call of the wild raced in Zenithia, the call of kindred not so much. She loved her family for certain, but definitely not their traditions. Her wild, maddening tantrums were too much for anyone to deal with besides her closest family. “Customs. If we rule, can’t we just change the rules? Why couldn’t they just die off or change or something? Alas,” she sighed, “I’m just another fish.”

Her entire family nearly died each tantrum Zenithia had in her youth. Wild tantrums and teaching matters of State meshed poorly at best. It took both her parents and her brother, Corinth, to help control her over time. No way she'd be able to marry a man she desired. Now, the promise was gone, broken by this awful arrangement.

Ah, her home, her castle. Most people would feel living in the sprawling, meticulous metropolis life with clean streets, flushing toilets, spectacular architecture and lights would be the envy of the world. Alas, her envy was her people out in the fields, the forests, the mountains working with the cycles of the seasons, natural lighting and less conveniences. The places she felt whole, less confused, more controlled.

Growing up, her only outlet inside the dreaded comforts of home, was her immediate family and eventually her horse, Shaltazar. They were found together when she was lost as a young child with no one knowing how or why her disappearance ever happened. The very horse that brought her to this tranquil pond on a regular basis.

Her heart felt warm, smooth, flowing like the leaves on the pond. The golden sun warmed her rough bark, caused her leaves to furl in some places and open in others, she sent her energy to the trunk to begin her night phase. A kind of magic, she mused, feeling as if she was the tree itself.

“Magic. How could anyone forget about magic? The Great Rift? The planet is safe and balanced? Clearly not! Look at me. The Rift was never closed, those dragons came from it. No other explanation fits.” Her thoughts raced, “I mean, how is it I can feel like I am this tree? Magic Using must’ve been grand. I’d’ve never had to face this marriage if I could control it like Dragon Lord did.”

The Crisis of Trageus, the not-so-boring part of history she did not mind learning. The moment when nearly all civilizations ceased and the Great Rift formed. Just imagine a force of magic so great, it nearly tore the planet in half. How the Council ever managed to take all that magic and then seal off the blast, she could not fathom, no matter how many died doing it.

Energy buzzed everywhere like dizzying flies in her mind. So many directions, ebbs, flows, changes, subtleties. The life force. A force that defeated her ability to control herself forever, a kind of nemesis and friend at the same time. Inside, a devastating deafness causing pain that lessened as she grew older. Feeling connected only to Corinth or Phalcon when trapped inside. Her time inside felt like someone turning off the central power with the battery uncharged.

Most people of Traegus were ordinary with no detectible strangeness, like her mother. Perhaps that was why so many believed it never existed at all. Perhaps the thousands who died Controlling the Rift killed magic with them. “Dragon Lord survived to seal the Rift, but he also sealed my fate along with it. What right did they have to destroy every magical thing they could find?”

“That damn Rift. It ruined everything. My family ruined it. I read people could use their mind to control other people, to heal people, to move forests…but it’s gone, forbidden. Control the Rift. That’s what I’ve got to do. Control the Rift, my heritage. Keep magic away. Keep it under control. Sacrifice magic. Ya right, they just changed it into one of me.”

Zenithia's long lineage fostered The Age of Enlightenment. The Age dug out the roots of the long, dark history of war, squander, deceit and rewarded hard work, collaboration, peace and justice. Higher order Schools of Thought in sciences, medicine, technology, philosophy and the arts shared experiences globally improving mankind. Armies assisted civil disputes but more importantly helped the less fortunate carve a niche out in the world. The Age of Enlightenment was far before the time of Arydae, Tanzara or a wayward princess.

"Wayward, alright." Zenithia mumbled. "I'm about as crazy as they come." She pictured the times when she collapsed like snake writhing on the ground, the hard cold stone only further torturing her. Her father blamed most of her problems on her shape-shifting gene.

Rift energy. Had to be Rift energy that caused her episodes. She tried to convince Phalcon as she recovered that it was not her shape-shifting, it was the Rift. He refused to believe it. If it was the gene, her problems would worsen as she neared transformation, not improve. It's the Rift. “Maybe Tanzara found it, causing them to act out. Maybe they think to use me to find it. Little do they know how much of a Hell they are going to get when they have me in their halls uncontrolled.”

Phalcon found a way to control her. Essentially finding it by mistake. During one of her bizarre, wild and thriving tantrums as a 2 year old, Corinth came in and touched her. She stopped instantly. A cool, minty calm vs. the death-buzz of life force surrounded her inner being instantly. Tears streamed down everyone's face realizing her only help was her brother. Until they also discovered she could stay calm longer if she could explore wilderness.

She thought she was clever when she ditched the Guard as a youngster. The forest brought peace, happiness, intrigue. But it hid secrets. Like people who wanted to control her, her family, their outcome. No one claimed the first menace of Zenithia's life, but she was grateful to come home with her horse.

“Damn genetics. Damn control I wish it would all burn in Three Hells.” She kicked a stone into the pond. She dug into the ground, ripping it as if ripping her own skin as she remembered being kidnapped. “Mine-as-well have stayed kidnapped!” She growled.

Tanzara. Prime Ruler Taro took her five years ago despite a guard, despite it all. He apparently knew about Zenithia’s forays and weaknesses. He used them to his advantage to win his Winless War. She escaped her captors, but they pursued using her as pawn not knowing where she was. He convinced the Emperor to end the Winless War and make peace through Trial By Marriage.

“To use a marriage, a sanctity like that. To destroy the fabric of love, of choice. Why? I thought maybe I’d stay unmarried. Support my brother to do his thing. Instead, I’m tied to that wretched place!”

Waiting for Corinth agonized her. She yearned for refreshing presence to envelope her insistent thoughts. Longing for a moment to keep the burning, buzzing life-force calm. When he was around, her flies landed and she could think clearly like anyone else. Opposites, fire and water, yin and yang.

She saw him calm thousands of people without effort, a level of understanding feelings in people that surely was the Rift’s doing. No differently than her ability to feel being the tree she leaned against.

She was grateful for all the years Corinth stood by her side, but knew he had other obligations he had to do. Her father created formal “Lessons of State”— time with Corinth in the wilderness to teach control. They worked so well that her burning, buzzing or deaf feelings were all but a whisper most of the time. How she wished some of those lessons prevented her second kidnapping 5 years ago!

Her stately mother, with her twinkling, emerald eyes and pursed lips, had no idea what Corinth did in his teachings. Teachings like warfare, strategy, archery, fencing and hunting. Zenithia’s confidence grew with these exercises often denied a lady of her status. She loved the day when Corinth could finally leave to have a life of his own as her control progressed over the years.

This cretinous marriage just might tear it all apart again. “I bet Prince Alex from Tanzara is going to love his insane wife!” She shouted aloud. She kicked another stone, watching the ripples grow across the pond. She accepted her fate with resolve and exaggerated sigh. After all, the Guard no longer needed to accompany her, the conflict was over.

She knew Corinth's duty burdened him tremendously. Coming out with her on forays opened freed him from the real obligations he honed in on at home. Their time together developed profound love of each other vs. any kind of resentment as both released tons of energy in their adventures. Corinth feared the disapproval of the people of Arydae, chief among them, their father. He knew the future of Arydae rested on his abilities or inabilities he had. She felt awful for his situation as well as her own.

“I’m enjoying my brief time with my brother. Really, I am! Especially when he’s not even here!” The herons had enough of her shouting and stone kicking and flew off. She turned away from their departing bodies to a longsword that leaned on the tree next to her. Its black, ruby pommel sparkled in the sun. She smiled as she reached for it, thinking devious battle thoughts. “I guess I’ll have to show him how much.” She grabbed the soft, black suede of the hilt and withdrew her expertly crafted weapon.

Its unique craftsmanship intrigued her every time she pulled it loose. All thoughts of her brother, family, history faded away. Holding the blade, she followed the light runes etched on the sleek, steel blade with her own sparkling, silver eyes. The etchings in the blade marred the reflection of a young woman donned in brown leather riding gear and light shirt. Her face was delicate yet sharp. Her hair framed that face like a bronze halo.

Her jeweled eyes travelled down the runes that turned from sky blue to royal blue and then to purple. Meeting the purple with only what a delicate sculptor could do, an entwined platinum dragon wrapped its body around the hilt. Its outstretched wings created a guard for her calloused hands. The ruby held her attention the longest. She caressed it gently as if it could feel her touch.

A jolt to her side abruptly brought her out of her revelry. She looked up to see her horse standing above her. Shaltazar's strong, long black legs supported a magnificent black stallion with flowing black mane and blazing, yellow eyes. They stared at her as his deep voice echoed sarcastically in her mind, “Look who’s coming. No other than your consistently tardy sibling.”

She looked out across the pond to discover a brown horse and rider charging across the dry, grassy plain toward her. She slid her bewildering blade back to its scabbard and turned to Shaltazar, “Come on boy, let’s see if we can take him by surprise!”

“Have you ever considered that maybe I’m just too old to gallivant over the countryside? Your chases make my lungs ache, give me a bad back and sore legs and….”

“Taz,” she said to her horse as she mounted. He flicks his sculpted ears back to listen. “Shut up. You know I don’t believe you.”

“The respect horses get nowadays.” For added emphasis, she kicked him in the gut. "Okay, okay, no need for that!”

They slowed as they neared to the forests' edge, dodging trees, logs, limbs with Zenithia laughing the whole way. A giant log blocked their path with Shaltazar flying over it with ease. Behind her, Corinth’s red mare balked, giving Zenithia more time to dash ahead.

“ZEN!! Will you wait a second?” Corinth yelled after her as he fought his mare to go over the log.

“I’m tired of waiting!” She yelled over her shoulder, disappearing.

“I told you I was coming out!” He screamed into the empty forest.

Seeing a large oak tree, she instructed Shaltazar to hide. They waited to pounce on her imagined enemy. “I’ll get him this time…” she thought as she watched the clearing.

Corinth, swearing at a new roan mare, entered the scene at a cautious walk. “You poor excuse for dragon food! A starving pack of wild durhounds wouldn’t’t so much as piss on you! If only—“

A great, black horse slammed into his mare’s side, cutting him off. Try as he might, there was no controlling her. The mare kept her wits enough to stay standing but not before Corinth flew to the ground, falling with a thud. As soon as he landed, his sister’s hard, muscular body pounced on him, sword drawn. “What in Three Hells are you trying to do, kill me?” He screamed out, now outraged.

“Basically”…she replied with an impish grin on her face.

Her body was strong, but not as strong as Corinth’s, a seasoned warrior and older by a good four years. “Wanna play, do you?” He snickered as he tossed her off him with ease. “Okay, I’ll play.” He drew his sword and attacked first, their blades clashing, sending sparks to the forest floor. The metallic ringing of their blades echoed through the forest. They grunted as they parried, thrust and tested each other' strengths and weaknesses. Her attempted defensive moves were no match for her brothers’ calculated attacks.

In a desperate attempt to win, Zenithia thrusted at her brother’s heart that he knocked away with a flick of his wrist. To end the contest once and for all, Corinth twisted his blade to the harmless flat side and delivered a blow to her side. The force toppled her to the ground, her sword falling just out of reach. Corinth walked over to it to pick it up, but dropped it as his hand burned. “Damn, that hurts!” He yelped, shaking his hand. Looking back toward his sister, still sprawled on the ground and gripping her side, he asked. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No, I’m dead.” She blurted.

“You deserved it,” he accused, walking to her.

“I deserved it? You’re the one who was late!” She said, rolling her over tenderly. A bruise was definitely forming as she hoped nothing broke. “I’ll get you one of these days.” She mumbled at her brother and grimaced, getting up with assistance. She winced as she reached down for her sword, picked it up and sheathed it..

“What’s so special about you and that sword?” Corinth nodded to it at her side. “Every time I touch it, I get burned.”

“Maybe it doesn’t like you,” She replied smugly.

“Since when do swords have personalities?”

“Since I found one that does. Now, can we look for your horse so we can go? We’re supposed to get home by dark, after all.”

“Where did she go?” He just realized the mare was nowhere to be found.

"I’ll start by looking under the rocks,” Zen chuckled as she picked up a rock the size of her fist.

“Not funny. Would you just start looking?” He pleaded, hoping she would stop her endless sarcasm without his interference. Under his breath, he added, “no wonder she is my sister. Totally reminds me of my equally sarcastic mother.”

“Ahem.” Shaltazar interrupted Zenith’s thoughts. “For your information, his jumpy nag is right next to me next to a large, flowering shrub that smells like a skrink in heat.”

His booming mind-voice overpowering any vocal capacity, she said mentally back, “And tell me, oh great oracle of knowledge, how I’m going to explain to Corinth how I miraculously know where his horse is?”

After all, they might play at magic in the forest and shared stories of magic only remembered by the trees that surrounded them. Magic that could be used. Things like telepathy were not readily accepted as non-magic use. Not like the more controlled, genetic magic like shape-shifting in the family tree or having abilities to influence things but not control them.

She kept her conversations with Shaltazar a secret, which did not help her issues of self-control. The world constantly worried about being labeled a Magic-User, an element of Chaos, a Disruptor of the Rift. Any unnatural magic was not only feared, loathed and forbidden, but was just as quickly destroyed, no matter who, what or why. All in the name of controlling the Rift.

Shaltazar added, “Hey, I just call ‘em, you figure the hard stuff out.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Hello. Come back to the planet Traegus!” Corinth waved his hand over Zenithia’s blank face. “You’ve definitely taken a hard hit.”

“I’m fine.” She managed to say as her thoughts snapped back from Shaltazar to the task of “finding” the two horses.

They searched for an hour before Zenithia finally pretended to find them. Corinth tired of Zen’s derogatory comments about his chronic tardiness and lack of a trustworthy horse, kept his back to his sister, saying very little as he looked his mare over. “I’m surprised how much your horse loves you oh so much. It’s just not right. After all, Arydeans are known for training and finding the best horses on the plains. What happened?” She asked his back. .

“Apparently I thought this horse was great to bring over to have a casual conversation with my sister… I guess I was wrong." He glanced back over his shoulder at his sister, "Her lack of ability to jump that log had me going!” He said as he patted and reassured his nervous mount.

“Well, it’s about time. I’ve seen trees grow faster.” Shaltazar declared in her mind. “Anyway, I’m starved. Let’s go.” He pranced around as she clamored onto his back. He took off at a brisk trot.

“Hey, wait for me!” Yelled Corinth as he mounted and galloped after her.