Chapter 15
It was a very hard and cold winter, and the year past beyond Byron Mountains and our moon Goddess known as Ria that looks over the deep blue sea, where it is said that underneath the depths of sea you will find the kingdom or the realm of living water, Some say without this living water, this world dies, all worlds die with it ripping the very fabric of time itself.
Some legends say hidden away is a map that can lead to the whereabouts’ of the mothers tear or how it may be obtained, then again this could be only a fairy-tale or campfire story. Considering nothing no stone can hold water, not even crystal or unless a crystal gem is hollowed out, but the legends are unclear but remain the same that the stone itself is whole, and not hollow.
So the riddle is never been solved to this day in regard to what is the mother’s tear, and how does it pertain to the stone or how does it fill it? Then again nobody has ever found the map to either… Or where to find to where the five keys of destiny are hidden or the items to find them. Some say all were lost ages ago, or they never existed along with the wizards.
Again let’s be reasonable… myths and legends and fairy-tales were long forgotten over more than over 2000 year’s ago. There are no more wizards, there are no more Kings, Queens, or Knights or Warriors or Hero’s of legends coming to anyone one's rescue. They are all doomed and the townspeople down below knew it. All across the land as far as the eye can see… There was nothing but dying land, of poisoned fields of nothing but dried up dying fields and trees turning to dust and rot.
Everything was infested diseases, nothing Barlan used worked, no magic, nothing any kind, no magic potion or herb or antidote from any old book he had from many of his old musty books.
Everything Barlan tried either worked for a few seconds or a few weeks or a day or few minutes then we were right back where we started, this time the disease intensified making the previous antidote useless. Nothing but a true healer would work.
Their hasn't been one in over 12 hundred centuries when his great grandfather killed him and wiped out his entire family hunting them down one at a time over nearly 10 millennium which would equal entire a lifetime of two full dragons; which he stole those lives from humans and wizards, and very dark forces and the very Gods themselves. Let's just say, things have a way of working things out as he fingers the little acorn glass thimble made of glass harden crystal around his neck as it turns bright red and feels cold against his chest and smiles as he pauses thinking of his own pasts burdens he carries.
However, Barlan knew better regarding what were Myths and Legends. He knew it; he knew it was not a campfire story or a fairy-tale. He knew it considering he had been around for nearly 6000 years in dragon years. In human years he about well lets just say very old and leave it at that, with white hair that never stayed combed and he hated wearing hats considered them such a bothered when all they would do is blow away with the wind up with a simple gust even though his Niece, more like his great, Great, Great, Great…. Well, leave it at that. Dragon’s blood and mixed with wizard blood semanticists.
Let’s just say his bones ached, standing tall at 7 feet from very large cave frame hollowed door, which he can close when the snow flies, easy enough. Of very long arms that and large hands that nearly engulfs any men half his size, in his prime could lift boulders, now just large rocks, and take a break as he bends over at takes a breather after 9 hours of hard labor compared to men. Back in his prime, he could work day and night without rest for a week before he needed sleep or rest.
Then again Dragon blood coursing through veins, gave you more strength because you needed to maintain a large body and fly long distance for several days without rest or sleep. But they make up for it when they hibernate during long winter’s nights or sleep for weeks at a time when storing up their energy.
He liked sitting out on the edge of his nice comfortable ledge where he had built a nice comfortable modest home from the timbered he had carefully crafted then carried in his fine maw or some would say when he was in his dragon form large claw hands. He loved living high up in the mountain tops for several reasons one was for the magnificent view and the sunsets at night and the sunrises it gives him.
The other was so he could keep a look out what for pesky unwanted visitors that seem to be increasing more lately since word has reached him that White Solan and then Dark Prince has risen after nearly 4000 years which means war is coming. Which also means some fool has broken the seals of Cross Bone Gate Prison and managed to find a way to unlock Hess prison, one of the worst and one of the darkest of all the wizards that have ever walked these realms… of course there was one other. And the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree… his great, great grandfather.
He mumbles softly looking down from his lofty perch. “My own father, but of course I am the only one that holds the key to his prison and the location of his little cell of hell.” Barlan fingers the key and the little acorn thimble that glows red around his neck as it feels cold against his chest. The other reason was the most obvious reason why he liked living high up in the mountains beside the privacy factor and seclusion here.
So he can study his musty old books of history long pasts and things nobody cares about anymore. That most wizards had long forgotten about. Being among one of the oldest wizards alive to date, for one simple reason which is because he was also born part dragon. Where he can transform into a living dragon.
However, there is always a cost, lately it has been difficult, to say the least as the land has been dying so has he, he seemed to become weaker each time he tries to transform to hunt, he nearly wipes him out completely not that there is a lot to hunt these days. Game is growing thin, even the townspeople in the nearby villages don’t have much to offer. Many will starve this coming winter if things don’t change and if war breaks out, many more will die.
It was if the planet itself has given up trying to fight… it as if it has given up, it was in the people's faces, as they sit on their front porch, hunched over, living in swoller, not even bothering to sweep the dirt or pick up the trash littering in their walkway. No one smiles, not even kindly wave or a friendly wave to their friend or neighbor. They all knew that this was the end.
You could see it in their eyes on their faces as they look towards the guards milling around guarding the high council meeting house for the 10th straight day with no answer after the summons from Morgan’s messenger who waits to ride on the 25th day with every man and boy old enough who can carry a sword to fight in Morgan’s army. Stating that army outside their walls are the enemy force that will wipe them out if they do not bend their knee to Morgan and his Dark Prince. That they will starve and die if they don’t, that it is them that have cursed their lands, going by the name of Whitmore and their leader Jaydan.
That if they will bend their knee to them Morgan and his Dark Prince will come in a lay waste to them and restore their lands; that all he asks is they make him their King and their master and have them have them pay a tax of 1/3 of everything they own as their right full King.
Barlan pounds his fist against the table, cursing Hess and Morgan’s name, cursing his father’s name as he prepares to meet his guests, his unwanted guest at the tavern below......