Arimore

Rowan and his company arrived at the valley of Min midafternoon. There they found Prince Mason pacing around the camp as the soldiers grumbled amongst themselves. Rowan overheard one soldier comment, “He’s gone mad with all this talk of dragons.”

Rowan approached Prince Mason, “Prince Mason.”

“Ah, Rowan, I’m glad you have arrived. We have been waiting for you.”

“What happened last night?” Rowan prodded.

“Come,” Mason led Rowan away from the group and continued, “What do you know of dragons?”

“Not much sire. In fact until yesterday I thought they were just stories.”

“Indeed. Tell me, in the stories you were told did dragons speak?”

“Well, there was one tale where a dragon spoke but not like you and I. The tale spoke of a woman that could communicate with a dragon through thought.” Rowan knew that Mason was searching for relief from the fear of madness that gripped him.

“Through thought you say,” Mason prodded for more.

“It was a story told to children sire. I don’t honestly think there could be such a thing, do you?” Rowan was hoping to muster a response from Mason.

“No, No, probably not,” Mason didn’t want to seem totally mad so he pretended to agree. “Tell me what else you remember about your stories.”

“Most of the stories were told to children who were misbehaving so I assure you I heard many in my day. For the most part they were tales of dragons swooping into fields snatching bad little boys and girls and having them for an afternoon snack. There is one though that may hold a little more truth. It was about Arimore.”

“Arimore, please go on.”

“It is told that the great dragon, Arimore lives in a cave near the top of Mount Crystos. It is a place that is unreachable by man so that is where he sleeps. At night the mighty dragon stirs from his slumber and stretches his mighty wings while perched upon the peak. In this particular story from his perch he sees movement in the forest. He swoops down expecting to find dinner but instead he finds a beautiful woman riding atop a white stallion. He is so taken with her beauty that lifts her from her mount and carries her to his cavern. There he puts her into a trance with his euphoric voice and commanded her to serve him the rest of her days. Through his great magic he took the form of a man and lie with her. The next morning he returned her here to this very meadow where she got on her horse and rode off to her home. He then returned to his natural form and went back to his den atop the mountain. Whenever Arimore felt alone he would call to her, speak directly to her mind, and she would come to him and do his bidding. Some versions of the tale go so far as to say that she bore his offspring, a girl that would one day bring peace between man and dragon. I know it sounds rather silly as I recount it now but as a child it was almost magical.”

“Tell me Rowan, did the tale give any more detail as to who the woman might be?”

“No. Some speculation was made of our own Queen Julianna but only because she always rode a white horse.” Rowan smiled, “I remember as a child, whenever I would see her riding I wondered what errand she was doing for Arimore. A child’s imagination can carry them many places.”

“Yes a child’s imagination can. Imagine, if that story were true it would mean that Elara is half dragon,” he feigned laughter but in his mind he wondered, “She has an allure about her that other women don’t have and she always had a way of bringing people a sense of peace.”

“Trust me,” Rowan laughed, “she is the furthest thing from a dragon I’ve ever met.”

Mason wrapped an arm around Rowan’s shoulder and led him back to the group, “What are your orders Rowan?”

“Elara asked us to patrol the base of the mountain.”

“Then let us get you something to eat and send you on your way. My men will remain here and watch the meadows.”

Rowan bowed his head in thanks and he and his men ate their fill then mounted their horses and began their journey, “We will split into two groups. You circle round to the east,” he pointed to the right of the peak, “the rest of you, with me, will circle to the west. We should meet at the northern perimeter by dawn. Keep a watchful eye on the sky. Remember men, legend says this mythical beast has scales of silver that reflect the night sky. I want report of any anomalies you see no matter how small and your location when you saw them.” Rowan paused and looked at Mason with compassion then turned back to his men and gave final instruction loud enough for all to hear, “I know that many of you think this is a fool’s errand. I know you think dragons aren’t real. This mission however is real and we will take it as seriously as any other. We do not do this just for Mardock. We do this for Calithorne! We do not do this just for Prince Mason. We do this for Queen Elara!” The men from both nations cheered. Mason nodded his thanks to Rowan and the groups moved out.

Mason watched until the men were out of sight then called his captain. “I know the men think I’m mad but I tell you the truth, there is something there. I can feel it. Its presence weighs on me. Tonight I want the men to surround the meadow and stay out of sight just inside the tree line. If Arimore is there I will find him,” he drew his sword from its sheath, “and I will kill him or die trying. I will not allow this beast to lay waste to our land. If he is there I will see that he pays with his life for the lives he has taken.”

Atop the mountain Arimore stirred as evening set. He desired to soar above the clouds and stretch his wings but he promised Elara he would remain hidden. He paced in his den, restless. “Much magic is exhausted in becoming a man but I must stretch,” he thought. He closed his eyes and uttered the spell that would allow him to walk upright, “convar anthrop.” Dust began to swirl around the great dragon and his form began to twist and change. He stretched himself and stood on two legs, a man, tall and muscular with long shimmering silver hair and deep golden brown eyes. He walked awkwardly to the back of the cave and retrieved the clothing he had hidden there many years ago. “This form is so confining. To think, I, the great Arimore must take the form of a weak human just to seek my dinner. Maybe I will have some fun while I’m able to walk among men. Yes, I think I will.” He dressed in the robes of an old man and began his descent down the mountain.

As he neared the path at the base of Mount Crystos he was spotted by one of Rowan’s men, “You!” the guard shouted, “Stop!”

Arimore stopped and stared at the rider. Rowan approached him and dismounted, “What business have you in these parts?” he asked.

“Business?” Arimore replied.

“Yes, why are you here?”

“Why, I live here,” Arimore replied, “The better question would be who are you and why are you here?”

“We are a patrol from Calithorne,” Rowan realized that if this was the man’s home he deserved to know who they were and why they were invading his territory.

“Calithorne? This is Mardocian territory. What brings you so far from home?”

Rowan thought about what to tell the man but decided that he would hide the truth, “As I said, we are just on routine patrol.”

“Hmm…” Arimore knew why they were there but he was having fun toying with them, “Seems to me there must be mischief afoot for a patrol to be in enemy territory. Ah but not to worry, what would a mountain man care of the affairs of state.” He turned to leave then paused and looked back to Rowan, “You wouldn’t be on some fool’s errand hunting dragons, would you?”

“Dragons?” Rowan feigned surprise.

“Come, come, you know the stories of this mountain as well as I. The great Arimore is said to live in a cave atop its peak. Do you seek Arimore?”

“Arimore is nothing more than a fairy tale told to children.”

“Really, I wouldn’t be so sure,” again he turned to leave and paused, “you know, legend tells that he roams these hills in the form of a man at times. Oh I admit, I’ve never seen him in either form and I’ve lived on this mountain most of my days but I’m old enough and wise enough to know that there is some truth in every legend. Be careful or you just may find what you seek.”

“What part of this legend do you think may hold some truth?” Rowan asked.

“You young warrior ask questions you already know the answer to. Now I must gather my supper. Tread carefully, dragon or not there are other things that roam this mountain that you need to be wary of.”

“I did not get your name sir,” Rowan stated.

“That is because I did not give it,” with that Arimore walked into the thick trees and hid from sight until they walked by. Once they were out of sight he made his way to the path and began descending to the valley below. He stopped in a small clearing, leaned on his walking stick, closed his eyes and began to call her, “Elara…”

Elara had retired to her chamber and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt of a man with long silver hair, “Who are you?” she asked.

“Search your heart child and you will know,” the old man answered.

“Arimore? It couldn’t be. You are a man.”

“Didn’t your father tell you that dragons are magical creatures?” the old man smiled.

“Why do you come in this form?” Elara asked, “You are such a magnificent beast why would you want to be an ordinary man?”

“I am anything but ordinary my child,” Arimore replied, “When I am in human form I am a great wizard. My magic transforms my outer appearance but it does not diminish my power. Have you found what I seek?”

“I had an odd dream, Arimore,” she began, “in my dream my father was telling me a story of my mother. He spoke of her with such love and compassion even though she defied him and went to rescue you against his will.”

“He did not want me to be rescued even though I saved him.”

“She said that there was a rumor that you had been captured by the Mardocians and she wanted to save you. He told her that he could not risk starting a war on a rumor.”

“Your father was a wise man. Your mother on the other hand lived by her heart not her mind. She could feel inside whether something was true or not. She was an amazing woman. You are very much like her. You have her compassion for others, her kind heart, not to mention her captivating beauty.”

“You loved her,” Elara could tell by the tone in his voice. It was the same tone her father had when he spoke of her.

“Sir…sir?” a voice aroused Arimore and broke his connection with Elara, “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Arimore turned, “I was just resting for a moment.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“I know you,” Arimore looked at the young man with recognition, “You are Prince Mason.” He bowed the bow of a feeble old man,

“Please sir,” Mason helped him up, “There is no need for formalities. What are you doing way out here?”

“My Prince, just up the pathway there is a patrol of men from Calithorne.”

“I know good servant. They are with me.”

“I don’t understand,” Arimore was once again seeing good in Mason’s eyes, “They are your enemy.”

“Old man, there are times when one puts aside differences and joins against a common enemy. These men are my friends and fellow soldiers.”

“Forgive me sire, living in the mountains I get very little news from the world. What common enemy could have brought you and Calithorne together?”

“There have been rumors of the return of the great dragon, Arimore.”

“Arimore?” the old man seemed surprised, “Are you sure?”

“No,” Mason replied, “We are here to see if the rumors are true.”

“I must get home. If the rumors are true I must tend to my home. The great dragon likes goats.”

“Please, come with us and let us protect you,” Mason put his hand on the old man’s shoulder and felt a deep cold in his skin, “You’re freezing. Come sit by our fire and warm yourself then I will have my men escort you home.”

“Thank you but I assure you I will be fine. Now I must go.” Arimore knew that Mason meant well but he could feel his magic waning and knew he must get back to his den before the spell wore off and he once again took his natural form. He turned, bid the young Prince farewell and disappeared into the forest.