From the outskirts of the ancient fortress city Sumda, gazing out of the single
window in her fieldstone cabin, sits the powerful sorceress, Mynah Wynirah. Her legs
crossed in her window seat, an elbow resting on her knee, gently balancing her chin; she
is deep in thought. Her long hair loosely hanging down her back and dusting the floor.
Approaching nine hundred and sixty-two, her hair now resembles more of a light creamcolored thread than the golden, blonde harvest fields it once did when she was a young
child.
If I could figure out who it is that intends to disrupt life in Sedanair, than I
would be able to start creating some sort of plan in order to stop them. If it were
elves, I would know to review both Foret and Blocage spells. That way if they
tried to combine their powers to throw the one hundred million year old fern tree
(center of society and of all magic? Ancien Fougere?) onto the city, they
wouldn’t be able to do anything at all of the sort.
Taking a sip of her tea, she unfolds her legs.
How can it be that with all of my abilities, I cannot see this mysterious
being? Oh, you know why, Wyn. You know perfectly well why! Parts of your
powers are blocked fore the future depends on too many decisions and actions in
its prior moments. Some circumstances are too critical to envision; they need to
be brought to light the proper and old fashion way.
Looking over at her miniature griffin, Illa, she says aloud, more to herself than
Illa, “I wonder if Zar has any thoughts on the matter…I know that he has knowledge of
some sort of mysterious being and its plot for wreaking havoc on Sumda, if not all of
Sedanair.”
Reaching out towards it with her sight, past the meadows, through Arbre
d’argenterie Forestry, beyond the Pandyl Lagoon, she enters into the Reightir Palace.
She finds the Dragon King, Royzar Reightir, in the Royal Library, pouring over scattered
piles of maps, history records, war technique and battle strategy plans, and an unfinished,
detailed list of creatures and the able powers of each.
Clearing her head of all notions, she connects her mind to his, through means of
sorcery; touching it she hears the flooding thoughts:
…The centaurs have, thus far, been loyal to the crown so worry we shall
not about their kind as much as those meddling, forest dwelling warblers. Those
monkey-faced, olive skinned wretches have caused much trouble in the past,
although that may be too obvious.
As if jolted awake from a horrible nightmare, he realizes that he is not focused.
Ah! Here I go thinking once again off the topic in which I have set myself
to concentrate!
Alas, I am hungry; I shall call a servant and…NO! I mustn’t!
Concentrate now, Zar, you must concentrate!
With a very sour expression he begins to sorting through the mess in front of him.
In agitation, he takes off his crown and jewelry, fidgeting a bit, and studies the notes he
had taken earlier in an attempt to recall where he had left off…
Ah ha! Battle plans… Oh, how tedious these are! However, it must be
done. If there is an attack directed from the west, then we could place those
vicious, awful snare-vines from Kemey Valley as far as the Pacota Ocean. That
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could, though, present an alarm for those that live that far from Sumda, especially
those who have little ones running about.
Looking around the majestic, skillfully hand carved woodwork of the familiar
castle library; he begins falling back into a daze…
Well, what other options are available to a young, worn out, starving king
such as I? Where have my thoughts wondered? I’m the king; there is no way for me to
starve. Ha! ‘Tis a hilarious thought thought; the King of Sedanair, the Dragon King,
Royzar Reightir, starving. Although, I could kill for a yakian steak right about
now…AHHH, my stomach is thinking for my mind again!
Under Dragon’s plum, gold embroidered traditional garments, his stomach begins
to growl; simply from the mere mention of food.
Battle plans to protect my territory and my people, that’s where my
concentrations ought to lie. I wonder what my father did eight hundred years ago during
the Werquie Wars.
Dragon Royzar begins searching for a book entitled: Dragon King, Mernok
Reightir’s Reign. Flipping through it he finds “Part VI – The Werquie Wars.”
Mynah decides then that it is in the best interest of the land for her to go to him.
She packs the essential items and sets out for her three-day journey to the Reightir castle;
in reality it would only take her two days to hike the distance to the palace, but she
decides to make the journey a day longer to pay a long awaited visit to Tiran Phenope,
although not a sorcerer himself, who taught her everything about herbs, history,
geography, and sorcery.
She saddles up her horse, Tonaur, and embarks on her expedition keeping in mind
the ancient tradition between the dragon kin and her own.
“Hast thou ever heard of the pact between my ancestors and Dragon’s, Tonaur? I
don’t believe that thou hast. Thou shall hear it now.
I believe it is Para Sempre, but I cannot be certain fore I cannot recall at this exact
moment its proper name. It really matters not. You are a horse and I am truly only
talking to myself to help improve my memory and my boredom.”
During the creation of Sedanair, a type of pact transpired, thought to bring further
harmony to everyone who lived and who would ever live on this land. The elders’
commission realized that the alternating ages of our two distinct species were created in a
beneficial manor for the realm; giving each other support, encouragement, aid, and
wisdom. Since the age of a sorcerer or sorceress reaches the point in which a great deal
of knowledge has been gained and life is no longer an utter mystery, a young dragon
would then be of perfect age to take over the throne. In that same way, loyal to one
another at any expense and living longer than any other beings; we are connected in a
way that no others are.”
Just as Mynah finishes her last word on the Para Sempre, she spots another horse
and rider.
“Good morrow to you, fellow rider!” Wyn exclaims. “’Tis a beauteous day, is it
not? Wouldn’t you…”
At the sound of another’s voice, the rider takes off in a gallop with its hooded
cape violently whipping backwards, snapping twigs and braches as the horse gains more
speed in a desperate attempt to escape.
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The folk around are quite friendly and Mynah Wynirah finds the reaction of this
rider to be particularly odd. She hadn’t recognized the horse; though she had seen both
horse and rider at a great distance. Placing this troubling event in the back of her mind,
she forces herself to stay on course so not to lose any valuable time.
…Most likely a rebellious adolescent escaping chores or lessons of some sort for
a more enjoyable adventure…
Soon forgetting all about the incident and instead overwhelmed by joy,
remembering she is on her way to see her mentor and friend, Tiran Phenope.
…..
“Tiran!” Mynah excitedly shouts approaching the silent gardener amongst the
protective plants and herbs encircling a rather tall tower. “How art thou, my dear
friend?”
“Mynah Wynirah. My, my, it has been quite some time, hasn’t it? It’s been much
too long of a while for my liking! I am well; and how art thou, Wyn?”
“I fare well, yet am troubled. Tiran, I have set out for the Reightir Palace to aid
Dragon in the preparation for future struggles and to aid him during them. I am sure you
are aware of the goings-on. He is a young king who has lost his father at an early age – I
am of sorcery heritage; I must abide by the Para Sempre. I would anyway; pact or no.
Wilt thou accompany me throughout these endeavours?”
“Oh, good heavens, that is quite the request! Why, whatever would I do in such a
place? You know very well that I cannot stand to be waited upon. I fear that I would
only cause trouble; getting in the way, irritating the servants, and offending King Royzar.
I think I would be the laugh of the entire kingdom!” Tiran explains with a sigh plopping
down on a boulder.
“Well, I believe that you are wrong for once. Ha! Tiran Phenope the laughing
stock of the kingdom? That is a great laugh in itself! Oh, how ridiculous! Come; come
now Tiran, your knowledge and experience would be of tremendous help in capturing
this villain before harm is done. And further more…”
Tiran stops Mynah’s incessant pleading, “Alright, alright, I shall accompany you,
but only because you are such a dear friend and I hate to see you in any distress.” Adding
somewhat under his breath, “Those servants ought to pay me mind when I say I to do
things myself, though, or they’ll run into a few surprises of their own.”
“We have a full day to prepare ourselves and I thought that we could possibly do
some training exercises; mental, physical, and historical. Dost thou agree?”
“Sounds like strenuous activity to me. Agreeable?...Absolutely not. Sensible,
yes. I do feel that it is a necessity. Before we begin anything, we shall have a cup of tea.
I may have a few homemade crumpets left from last night as well,” he explains getting up
and walking towards his tower knowing she loves tea, and crumpets.
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…..
“Who goes there?” bellows a strong, confident voice within the Reightir Militia
Headquarters.
“Officer Kamikato Herav. The Supreme General, Fearoti Rioto, requested that I
come from Sacura to assist him.”
“Ah, yes, Officer Herav, we have been expecting you, but I believe you to be a
day late/that you are late by an entire day,” that same voice chuckles as it gives the
command to open the entrance and immediately notify the Supreme General.
Upon opening the gateway, the night-guard is stunned to see the notable and
courageous warrior with a nontraditional hooded cape covering his entire face, his boots
caked with mud, and only three, unimpressive, attendants with him. His horse, a plain
brown mare, bares no distinguishing markings whatsoever. He figures it is for the sake
of a clever disguise to avoid any hidden threats that might have slowed his progress
throughout his lengthy, exhausting venture.
“Officer Herav,” a soldier says with a shaky bow, “I have been instructed to bring
you and your attendants to your quarters to freshen up before dining. I regret to inform
you that Supreme General Rioto is too busy to formally meet with you this evening and
wishes for me to express his deepest apologies. He is grateful that you made it here
safely. He also asked me to inform you that he may stop in to see how you are faring just
before day break/dawn. Now, if you would just follow me I shall show you the way to
your lodgings.”
Kamikato Herav simply nods, gracefully bows towards the soldiers and the
watch-guards at the gate before following the messenger.
They arrive at the building in which possesses their separate accommodations and
receive a detailed schedule for the next day’s activities. Kamikato Herav is the first to
bathe, change into fresh clothing, and dine.
Traditionally his servants would take their turn after Herav was finally situated,
contently in bed, but this is under an entirely different circumstance. There are servants
of every rank at the Reightir Palace and every military base in the country so his
attendants are relieved of their duties straightaway.
…(Tiran and Mynah…?...exercises?)…
Kamikato Herav, it’s wonderful to see you again, young man!” a cheerful yet
tired, somewhat older male’s voice tones in.
Kamikato does not seem to be interrupted, perturbed, nor gracious by Fearoti
Rioto’s early morning presence, sitting in a chair, back towards the Supreme General,
apparently composing something of great significance.
In one quick, assured movement, Kamikato waves his right hand, spinning around
in his chair to face General Rioto. Mikato’s servants, now on either side of Rioto, await
their lord’s next signal.
With a terrified, confused gasp the Supreme General shockingly manages in
somewhat of a hoarse and low tone to say, “What have you done with Herav? And what
in gods’ names are you trying to achieve?”
The caped figure mutely takes a few steps closer to Rioto and lets the hood slide
off and land on his back.
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“And you’re a…”…Rioto screeches before a sword/dagger slides swiftly through
the air, pressing against his neck.
But the silent silhouette only holds out one of the pieces of papers it had been
working on. It read:
You shall not know my name, that of any of my followers, if I have a leader, or if
I, myself, am the leader. If you do not cooperate with us, you, your men, and
your so called kind shall meet a slow, agonizing death in the audience of your
families. Make this easy and do not fight. We are more powerful than you could
imagine. Now that we have this understanding, you will take us on a “guided
tour” to the weaponry hall, practice field/arena, and stables. Do not utter a word
or show a hint of distress. After we visit these three destinations, we shall be on
our way fully supplied!
The End of the Reightir Dynasty is Near!
…
A young Mynah Wynirah at twenty years old wakes up in a cold sweat, not
believing the horrible reoccurring nightmare has come back after all of this time, with
even more details and information than ever before. Could it be that what her mother has
told her about premonitions could actually be true? Is this dream to become the future?
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