Stones

It was almost time. Every evening the air bit more crisply. On these nights, Terramedus enjoyed nothing more than stretching her indigo wings in the autumn sky. Soon, the heaviness of the long days would leave completely and the dragon would be free once again to dominate the dark skies unmolested--a welcome change from the entrapment she had felt over the last few moons. When days were long, Terramedus felt confined to her cave and only emerged from her lair to take quick flights. She longed for the cold, endless nights now promised by the coming of the new season. A season when the two-legs did not venture far from their hearths.

There was no denying that autumn was Terramedus's favorite season, and the only real reason she made any note of time at all. She did not track time by days or years as the two-legs did. For someone as old as she, time was irrelevant. She only cared now about the passing of seasons out of convenience and preference. When the days were warm and long, the two-legs were restless. Although they feared Terramedus--her iron talons and fiery breath--sometimes the young men of Chiza’bal sought to become heroes. In hunting parties or solo assaults, they would occasionally scale her steep mountain in search of fame or gold or some other such nonsense too often associated with dragons. On those occasions, Terramedus never minded ending the senseless dreams of heroism conjured by the foolish two-legs. Unfortunately, the reward for her effort was always disappointing. Human meat was decidedly indigestible.

Winter nights gave Terramedus a reprieve from these games, and based on the preparations being made by the robed ones, it was clear that soon Terramedus would once again have the ancient groves all to herself.

And that’s what I want, right? To be alone?

Terramedus rarely thought about her old clan. Dragon. Two-leg. It didn’t matter. The tangled politics of belonging was irksome at best. Alone was much better. She didn’t have to worry about saving other, weaker dragons, or bending her view of the world to placate other beings. She could just exist, never caring whether the world continued for another millennium or whether it ended with the next sunrise. This disregard for time afforded Terramedus a freedom coveted by most other beings--the freedom to do as she desired without regard for consequence. She could feed where she willed. She could reign fire as she needed. She did not hide. She did not fear. And she would certainly never negotiate who she was to ease the tensions between any of the races.

Tension among the races...

The thought of this timeless problem opened old wounds. Terramedus immediately felt irritated and angered. This is why I came to Chiza'bal, Terramedus lamented to herself. Dragon-human relations are not my problem.

Terramedus had chosen Chiza’bal as a new home years ago because it was far enough away that no other dragon could force itself into her thoughts. Unfortunately, no amount of distance could fully sever the mind tether that connected Terramedus to her former den mates. The gentle pulsing of the tether was a part of her, like a paw or limb. It was there, but unnoticed. Tonight, however, the pulsing felt more like an itch that could not be scratched. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the irritation of that connection would not ease, which sent a hot fury throughout Terramedus’ entire body.

It started in her very core. With each new memory of her clan, the fury grew, until eventually, it was like a life of its own. The unbidden emotions were unwelcome, and fighting against them proved futile. Quickly, the heated fury she felt from each invasive memory rose to her throat. Terramedus no longer had control of herself. Her pulse raced and her breathing became rapid. Hers was a powerful hate, and she soon succumbed to the pent-up rage that tormented her body and soul. With forced liberation, she lifted back her spiked head and released a monstrous, flame-filled bellow.

“GRRAAAARRRR!”

The thunderous sound of her rage reverberated through the valley, carrying all the way to the sacred groves of Chiza’bal.

“Keep stacking those logs. The winged one is in a special mood tonight. Best we get this done quickly,” Cathbad ordered in response to the monstrous bellow from the mountain.

“Aye, Merlin,” the men grumbled in unison.

Merlin was not Cathbad’s birth name, but an honorary title. Cathbad knew his priests did not fancy the grunt work associated with tonight’s bonfire, but it was necessary. He could not put anyone else’s life at risk. He and his priests were blood-bound to protect the village of Chiza’bal, and tonight was perhaps the most important ritual he had ever led.

“These fires must burn brighter than they ever have if we are to draw the attention of Esus. Have faith men. Esus will not turn his back on us. Is the ward ready?”

“Almost, Merlin. The priestess is drawing the final rune markings.”

“Very good. I’ll go check her progress.”

“Merlin…” a deep voice beckoned for attention from behind a hooded face. “Are you sure this is necessary?”

Cathbad looked toward the tent where Abigaeli was being prepared for the ritual. How many times had he asked himself this same question? He pondered the question again and felt the air grow tense as his brethren waited for a response that would lessen their personal guilt.

Cathbad reached out and touched the robed arm of his interrogator reassuringly. “Human sacrifice is never done without reservation, my son. Tonight it is warranted. We have no choice. Esus must be appeased.”

For a moment, the light from the bonfire struck the eyes of the hooded figure. Pain. Anger. Disbelief. All these emotions wrestled beneath the hood, but to his credit he said nothing. Instead, the priest kept his eyes locked with Cathbad’s, neither man willing to look away first.

Fortunately, the awkward tension did not last long, for both men turned simultaneously at the sound of uncontrolled giggling bursting from the ceremony tent.

“He, he, he” a small child giddily ran from an older priestess. The girl-child, no more than three or four years old, exited the ornate tent reserved for the most important village ceremonies. The child was naked and seemingly unconcerned with the cool evening air.

“Abigaeli! We are not finished yet. Please take my hand and we’ll go back inside where it is warm,” the priestess called after her.

Abigaeli looked at the woman who summoned her and smiled happily as if they were playing a game. The girl’s fiery red hair was tied in two top knots and her body was covered in ceremonial blue runes. She giggled again, eyes glowing mischievously in the firelight.

The older woman responded with tired exasperation. “This is not a game, Abigaeli. You must come inside and let me finish.” The priestess grabbed hold of the child's bare arm and attempted to guide her back inside the warm tent. The touch of the priestess seemed to turn a switch off inside the girl. Reflexively, the child’s giggles ceased, and the young girl dropped to the ground, ducking her head down toward her feet as if she were a bird burying her head in the dirt.

“I think she’s broken, priestess,” Cathbad called lightly toward the two.

The priestess looked back sadly. “Aye, Merlin. She is that. Our poor, broken Abigaeli. May Esus protect her spirit.”

The two men watching made the sign of the cross, and the tension abated. However, solemn truth remained--Abigaeli would be offered as sacrifice to Esus this night.

It had been decades since the people of Chiza’bal had organized a human sacrifice, but the villagers were desperate. The morning fields already crunched with hardened dew, and the harvest stores were only half full. The last few summer seasons had been temperamental, but this year had been the worst by far. Unpredictable weather patterns had made growing strong harvests impossible, and unnatural mating seasons had made available game in the surrounding forests spare. Barrenness seemed to be a disease felt by both man and beast. And to make matters worse, when young were born, they were often…wrong.

At that thought, Cathbad looked again at the fiery toddler who had finally allowed the priestess to collect her. She was different. Anyone could see it. Orphaned at birth, she had been raised as a ward in the Priestess House. And despite being loved and cared for, she had not progressed like other children. Nearly twice the age of children who could articulate their needs and hold long conversations with their elders, Abigaeli still made only guttural sounds. And this is not where the curiosity ended. She had no friends. She barely tolerated the children her age, and she would much rather be left to caress the smooth tree bark found in the ancient groves, or watch the dandelion seeds blow free on the wind, than be forced to fraternize with any of the villagers--including the priestesses who cared for her. It was as if her spirit were not even of this world. A faery child, perhaps, drawn to the natural elements surrounding her--every part of nature still new and wondrous.

Abigaeli was a true innocent.

Untainted.

Pure.

Cathbad sighed, finally addressing the priestess’ words, which hung like a stale accusation in the equanimity of the night. “She will be missed, Priestess. Abigaeli is the best of all of us, which is why she was chosen. The problems Chiza’bal faces are great. If Esus is to listen and grant us favor, our sacrifice must be great as well.”

“That may be Cathbad,” the priestess said, addressing the high priest in the familiar, “but I don’t have to like it.” As if to accent the emotions of the priestess, another feral wail sounded in the distance. The priestess looked toward the shadowy mountain and breathed a small prayer, “Praise, Esus, this night won't end soon enough.” With those parting words, the priestess squeezed the young girl in her arms and retreated into the ceremonial tent.

***

Terramedus soared from her cliffside dwelling. The piercing wind bit at her soft underbelly, but her agitation would not lessen. She roared into the night. Again and again. She wanted to be free of these emotional burdens, but nothing was helping. Wildly, she scanned the trees, using her predatory night vision to find anything that dared roam the grove this night.

She found nothing.

Her disappointing hunt only made Terramedus even more agitated. She needed a reprieve now. She needed to destroy something. If there was no game to hunt in her grove, she would set her sights somewhere different. Terramedus turned toward the druid bonfires and flew with a speed even her dragon wings were unaccustomed to.

***

“Take the child’s wrists and secure her to the sacred oak,” Cathbad ordered his assistant, an elderly priest who often entertained Abigaeli when the priestesses were occupied.

Many thought Mathias an odd choice for the ceremony, and Cathbad had not been without reservation when agreeing to the elder priests’ request. However, ultimately, there just had not been many who were interested in assisting with this particular ritual. Mathias was of the Old World though. He understood that to sacrifice one’s life to the gods was an honor. He also understood that for a child like Abigaeli, tonight’s ceremony would perhaps be a mercy as well. Cathbad thought about this as the old priest turned to oblige and added “Thank you, Mathias. I know this is difficult.”

“Aye, Merlin, but if anyone deserves favor with our gods it’s our little Abigaeli. I’m content knowing I might play a small part in this.”

Cathbad responded with a nod, and Mathias, limping slightly from rheumatic knees, sauntered off to bind Abigaeli to the sacred oak and say his last good1byes.

When Mathias reached Abigaeli, he found the young girl squatting quietly in the sacrificial circle. As usual, she was oblivious to the priests who busied themselves around her. Abigaeli’s attention was directed at the small pile of alabaster stone that rested next to her. Carefully, she picked up each stone one by one and dropped them to the ground. Her motions, while appearing to be random, were purposeful. The girl was looking for something. Testing something, and occasionally, she was satisfied. When this happened, Abigaeli would gingerly place the preferred stone next to the others that had passed her test. Currently, there were only about ten that had passed her inspection. These stones had been carefully placed in a horizontal line in front of her dirt-stained feet.

Mathias smiled at the familiar ritual that other children would often tease Abigaeli for. “All right, Abigaeli. It’s time to meet Esus. Please give me your hand,” Mathias directed warmly.

Abigaeli looked up from her rocks and tilted her head slightly, but her gaze did not meet the eyes of the priest. Instead, she seemed to look through him. Beyond him. Her eyes, usually refusing to focus on anything, were uncharacteristically fixated on the sky.

“Abigaeli. What are you looking at? Did you hear me? It’s time to go,” the priest coaxed.

But Abigaeli did not hear her friend, or at least she did not acknowledge him. The image that held her attention was much farther off in the distance. So far off, in fact, that no one else had even acknowledged the indecipherable form speeding towards them.

“Abigaeli, look at me when I’m talking to you,” Mathias chastised, snapping his fingers. Still, she would not divert her eyes from what held them.

“What is it that holds your spirit, girl?” The priest questioned as he turned to look in the direction she gazed. It took just seconds to spot the dark, winged beast flying towards the ancient grove. “Esus, deliver us,” the priest whispered and made the sign of the cross. He was not alone in his prayers. The interloper had been spotted by most of the priests and priestesses helping in the grove, and alarmed shouts now resonated throughout the ceremonial grounds.

“DRAGON!!!”

“Fire!”

“Save us!

Most of the shouting was unintelligible, but the theme was the same--a dragon had flown into their midsts and every life was at stake, not just the sacrificial offering. All around priests and priestesses ran for cover, many barely escaping the targeted flames of the diamond-scaled monster. Next to Abigaeli and her priest, the ceremonial tent that had been used to prepare the girl for the night’s ceremony erupted into flames. Everywhere people scattered in all directions. The holy grounds were consumed by fire. The night that was supposed to have brought relief to the people of Chiza’bal had turned to chaos and destruction.

“Abigaeli, we must go! Come, child!”

But Abigaeli did not budge. She sat in the ceremonial circle, beaming, head and eyes following the dragon wherever she flew. With each new burst of flame, the child clapped in giddiness, or perhaps applause. She was oblivious to the danger that she and every human soul there faced.

“Mathias!” a voice with no face yelled above the din. “Mathias! You must leave her. She is Esus’ ward now.”

“I can’t!” Mathias returned. “She must be bound to the sacred oak. The ceremony has to be completed,” Mathias yelled to the priest whose voice sounded like Cathbad’

“Leave her or carry her,” the high priest instructed. “The sacred oak is in flames.”

The sadness of those words carried even over the smoke and flames now engulfing their ancient ceremonial site. Mathias looked at the child whom he had petted over the years. Perhaps there was still a way that he could provide a small mercy to Abigaeli.

The priest scrambled over to the ceremonial ring and lifted one of the large stones that held the sacred circle. The stone was almost too heavy and large for the old man to lift, but it would serve its purpose. Mathias labored over to Abigaeli, stone in his hands. He had wanted more for this special creature, but he felt sure that Abigaeli would feel no pain. She would never again feel the ridicule of her peers or the helplessness of her disability. She would never grow old or be alone.

She will leave this world applauding the fire dance of the dragon.

***

Run, tiny two-legs. Run! Terramedus mused as she watched the destruction of her rage. Flame after flame, she burned all that belonged to the humans. She could not wipe the two-legs from the earth, but she might be able to wipe them from this ancient grove.

The idea drove her.

It blinded her.

Her fiery breath consumed everything in her path. And before she could stop herself, Terramedus’s flames had consumed one of the largest oaks in the grove.

“Graaaaaaaarrrrrr!” she wailed in agony at the realization of what she had done. Terramedus felt as if she had lit her own body afire, and she was helpless against the assault of her own flames. To be guilty of the one thing she held most against the two-legs was unpardonable, and she released another wave of flames in all directions. Tonight, she would not stop at setting fires to tents and thatch. She would take lives. And who would stop her?

Terramedus flew the parameters of the grove, easily evading any attempt to end her assault. These men barely put up a fight. They ran, scrambling like the women of their tribe. They were helpless. Weak. Tonight Terramedus would enjoy crushing these two-legs, especially the weakest among them. Like the two waiting oddly in the circle. From their size and features, it was clear that these individuals represented the weakest of the two-legs: one old and one young. They had been abandoned. No one tried to help them. Neither tried to flee. They seemed to be waiting on Terramedus to order their fate. Perhaps I will take a moment to enjoy these deaths. And with that thought, Terramedus dropped from the sky and faced the two-legs in the circle.

The ground rumbled with the weight of Terramedus’ descent. She was close enough that she could smell the acrid odor of the two-legs. She could never tell if that was the smell of fear, or just them. As Terramedus moved closer, she noticed the older of the two had a large boulder raised above his head. The weight of the rock seemed a strain on his feeble arms, which was comical considering the boulder would do nothing against her might. Surely he doesn’t think that will save him … As she watched the old man more closely, she realized that he kept looking at the toddler at his feet. He seemed to be trying to talk himself into something.

The boulder isn’t for me. It is for the child!

This was unacceptable. No old, two-leg man would steal Terramedus’ plaything from her. With a swift swing of her long, spiked tail, Terramedus knocked the old man to the ground. It was almost too easy. She wasn’t sure if she had fatally wounded him, but his actions were halted all the same. His body now rested in a contorted position far away from her younger prey.

Now to address the child…

When Terramedus turned to do just that, she fully expected that she would no longer be there. Surely, her display of might against the old man would have phased the toddler. It had not. What an odd bird, Terramedus thought to herself as she investigated more closely. The child showed no signs of fear. Neither bared teeth nor clanking talons affected the young one. Normally, no two-leg would ever let her approach as she did now without some terrifying reaction. This child did not budge. She just sat, wide-grinned…waiting.

This is not your game! Terramedus yelled in her head at the child. She lunged forward, positioning herself face-to-face with the insolent girl-child. At this distance, Terramedus was so close that the saliva from her mouth dripped on the child’s painted skin. The girl, however, remained without fear. Instead of screaming or running away, the child did something unexpected.

Something…different.

Almost gingerly, the smiling child reached up and cupped the scaly cheek of Terramedus with her small hand. At first, Terramedus was repelled by the thought of this human hand on her lovely scales. If it hadn’t been for the cool rushing sensation that flowed from the small hand that touched her body, Terramedus would have recoiled immediately and devoured the hand that dared touch her. Instead, she felt the anger and rage that had radiated through her limbs…her wings…her very being--vanish! There was no other word for it. It was there and then it wasn’t. The child had not simply soothed her, she had drawn these emotions out of her body.

Terramedus was calm.

As Terramedus reveled at this newfound peace, she noticed that the child looked tense. She moved with purpose and concentration. Curiously, Terramedus watched as this tiny human picked up one of the white stones lined at her feet. Methodically, the girl’s delicate fingers enclosed the chosen gem while her tranquil blue eyes rested in meditation. The stone she held began to glow. Time seemed to slow as this process was completed, but in truth, only moments passed before the stone was released and discarded. Without the touch of the child, the stone almost immediately returned to its normal alabaster white.

The girl relaxed.

Staring at the girl, Terramedus let her mind wander. What would happen if that stone were ever broken? Would my anger be released on the world yet again?

As if in response, Terramedus felt a new tug on her conscience. It was stronger than the distant pulsing that had enraged her earlier in the night and that had set about the destruction in the ancient grove. She still felt those sensations, but the newly forged connection was different. Closer. The pull was not coming from other dragons. It was coming from the human. The girl. The two were now physically connected. Terramedus had been claimed. Her destiny would now be forever tied to this child.

The unwanted truth was now unavoidable: she was now duty-bound to bring this two-leg-girl, this child, to her clan. This child who had been abandoned by her human caretakers in the midst of an assault by a fire-breathing dragon was the one foretold of.

She was The Chosen One.

And with that realization, Terramedus bowed before the child who responded by rising from her position and tapping lightly on the curled talons of Terramedus’ balled fist. At the child’s request, the tamed dragon unfurled her powerful paws and allowed the red-haired human to crawl into her palm.

She was so small. Fragile. And yet the fate of the dragon and the human world would certainly rest with this being. She had never believed the stories told by her dragon kin, but the signs were clear. Terramedus recalled the oracle’s words that had so often been repeated in her den:

“From the fiery flames of hate and fury, two worlds will be joined.

Old and New will become one.

The voiceless mistress who bends the will, these hallowed lands she will heal.”

Terramedus had always thought the oracle in the story referred to the bending of an actual wheel, not a being’s will. Tonight those words took on a whole new meaning, for what had the child done if not bend the will of Terramedus?

Before, Terramedus had been in such a rage that she was more than willing to take the life of a helpless being. She felt shame at this. And at the destruction she had caused the ancient grove in which she had dwelled for so long. The largest of all the trees in the druid’s forest now sagged with wretched accusation. It’s trunk, once strong and tall, was left blackened and smoldering from Terramedus’ flames. Surely this is an unforgivable transgression, Terramedus thought forlornly.

But The Chosen One did not look at her dragon with accusation or judgment. Instead, she squeezed the paw that held her and smiled in warm reassurance. Almost immediately Terramedus felt herself release the negative emotions that had surfaced so quickly, and she became calm once more.

I don’t deserve your charity. Why should I not feel shame and grief for this sin I have committed? This sin that can never be undone.

The child picked up the stone which had been discarded earlier and pointed to the ravaged tree. Through the bond the two shared, Terramedus could feel the girl’s desire to be taken nearer to its corpse. Although there was nothing more that she wanted than to distance herself from the visual reminder of her arrogance and hate, Terramedus responded with reluctant obedience. In just a few strides, the dragon had crossed the distance between herself and the tree. She gently allowed her paw to rest on the ground as her new human companion rose to greet the fire-struck tree. For greet she did. There was no other way to put it.

The Chosen One placed her right-hand flat against the scorched trunk, and she touched her forehead to the burnt bark. As Terramedus had seen before, the child closed her eyes in meditation and the stone that she had retrieved began to glow. The mind tether they shared pulsed with each deep breath she took, and the tree began to hum. It was an ever-so-slight vibration. A pulsing much like the one experienced by the mind tether. Terramedus thought that at any moment the girl would release the tree, but she remained. The dragon was not sure what to do, so she gave the Chosen One her space. And she watched.

At first, Terramedus thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. She started seeing subtle changes in the ancient tree she had destroyed. The bark of the tree seemed less scorched. The limbs seemed to extend and strengthen. When new growth began to bud from these same limbs, Terramedus knew that her eyes were not deceiving her. The tree was being given back the life that Terramedus had taken.

On and on, the tree slowly regained its original splendor. The Chosen One was restoring the ancient hardwood. As much as Terramedus was enthralled by the process, she was aware that it was taking its toll on the child. The dragon didn’t believe the child could take much more.

I must make her stop. She should not have to suffer to right my wrong…

It was then that the child slumped from the tree. The once bright stone was now dull and spent in her clenched hands. The tree had been completely restored. The massive tree now stood thriving, alone among acres of destroyed forest. The contrast was surely a beacon of hope. Hope that man and dragon could find redemption among one another. Hope that lands could be restored. Hope that no race need ever face extinction.

You are the hope for us all, little one. I concede. I am yours.

The path would be long, and the outcome unclear, but the first step had been made: Terramedus had accepted her duty as the child’s ward. What had once upturned her life had once again left its mark, and this time she knew that the task was too big for her alone. She needed help and guidance. She needed her denmates and the Council. She took the child in her paw once more, and with renewed energy, she took to the air. In the safety of Terramedus' paw, the child snuggled comfortably, unconcerned with the flight or what might come next. All the while, contentment bubbled through their bound. The two headed south. Their destination was clear.

Terramedus returned home.