The Conquest of Mytheyr

Morgan swung off Caspian before he even stopped moving and began prowling around the circle of birch trees. She muttered under her breath, swearing. Oh, she had all the English phrases, but most of her prophanity was a mix of Elvish, Dwarvish, Latin, Gaelic and even a few choice words that would make even the most drunken of Dwarven sailors cringe.

Raven waited silently, leaning up against Nightshade’s flank. She had learned it was best not to interrupt Morgan, unless it was life-or-death. Actually, ninety percent of Dragonkin Elves had this problem. Their emotions are multiplied exponentially, because of the brand of magic they are born with. Most have one emotional problem in particular, and Morgan’s, obviously, was rage. And Raven… she got cocky, in more then one definition of the word.

Morgan plopped down on the ground and gave a monster sigh, putting her head in her hands. Raven walked over and kneeled by her.

“You done?” she asked, slightly sarcastically.

“Yeah.” Morgan sighed. “Raven… Markus… felt wrong. We fought wraiths before him, but he was different. And this guy… Semele…..”

“Felt just like that.” Raven finished for her.

“Aye… and… if he feels the same… do you think… he can…?” Morgan was loath to say it, for if she did, it would make it all too real, that… that what happened to her land… could happen here.

“Yes, Morgan. I think he probably can. And will.”

Morgan lifted her head, just as suddenly as Raven stoop up. The trees, who had been so deadly quiet near Semele, had started to sing again. The trees usually always sang. Always telling stories. Most times, it was a comforting buzz in the back of Morgan’s mind. But, sometimes, the song was meant for her.

They don’t really sing with words. It’s… really very hard to explain. Inscrutable, really. But the ballads sung later put it this way;

In the desert, behind the mountains there

Is a Hero, waiting to be found, with hair

White as the snow he’s never seen. He does

Not hear as you can. But he is your only

Hope against the dragon’s cursed steel and blood.

It sounds much better in Elvish.

“Aye,” Morgan said, “if that is how it must be done, then that is the way we must do it.” She stood, dusting dirt off her tunic. “Raven, I need you to take Nightshade. You’ll need her stamina, and her ghostly speed should be useful too. I need you to get anyone you can to help us. Shouldn’t be hard, Dark Elves are a nasty bunch when pissed off. We’ll rendezvous in Rimcenter. And I need you to get our own troops here. I want everyone off duty. Pull any low-priority field missions. As many as you can, but please, don’t leave Irideth unprotected.”

“The day I leave Irideth defenseless will be the day I betray it. But what will you do?”

“I’m going to the desert. I have to find this hero.”

“Morgan, Mytheyr is forest to the coastline, a ring of mountains in the center, and the desert is within that. Caspian can’t gallop to the mountains and then just fly over them. And then, you’ll have to search the whole damn desert. Sure, Caspian’s a hotblood, but you sure as hell are not.”

“I never said I was going to make him do the trek in one day. I’m not stupid! And I’ll be fine in the desert. I am magical, after all.” Morgan protested, a little offended.

“Semele’s golems said otherwise. And if he’s smart, he’ll be prepared for the pulse bomb this time. Tech is easier to disable the magic is.” Raven shot back.

“Raven, do you have a better idea?”

“… No.” Raven sighed. “If you die, I will kill you.”

Morgan laughed and swung up onto Caspian.

“You and Rhys, and Shrike, and Justin, and Raige, and Karath…” Caspian trotted away, Morgan still rattling off names.

Raven gave Nightshade a look.

“Your charge.” Raven said, jerking her head at the shrinking figure of Morgan. Nightshade gave a snort, and Raven imagined her saying ‘Your best friend.’ Raven laughed. “Let’s go stir up some righteous, patriotic anger, shall we?” She used her wings to get up on the mare’s back and pointed her head to the nearest Dark Elven town.

Morgan was wishing she had brought Bane. Caspian had made good time, but Morgan was reluctant to push him harder. A dragon, however, could have taken her all the way to the desert before it had to rest. She slid off the bay’s back and allowed him to wander and browse the leaves. There would be little for him to eat in the desert, also a problem that could have been solved by a dragon. Morgan considered opening a portal and bringing either Bane or Marine here, but a magic as big as that would be like sending up a flare. ‘Hey bad guys! Super-powerful Dragonkin here! Come and get her!’ She decided it was too risky.

Morgan also decided it was too risky sleeping on the ground. She found a decent tree and clambered up the trunk to get to the first branch. She pulled herself into a fork, about twelve feet off the ground. She wedged herself into it. It was less then comfortable, but she had slept rougher. The leaves rustled, the gentle song lulling her to sleep.

Cold. It was cold. And pitch dark. A ball of light magic lit a circle at her feet, about three feet in diameter. She was outside, she could tell by how the air felt. She stood on a crumbling staircase, with grass sprouting between the cracks in the stone. There was absolutely no smell in the air. The silence was deafening, her ears didn’t even ring. The only sound was her breathing and heartbeat, slow, steady and perfectly calm.

Morgan shivered and tried to see beyond her circle of light, but her eyes betrayed her. There was only blackness.

“Do you like it?” the voice was soft, but sounded so loud in the silence. It came from behind Morgan, down the stairs. She whirled around… and saw nothing.

“Poor girl. You must be freezing.” Semele said, almost… compassionately.

“What do you want?” she said bluntly.

“Now, now, no need to be hostile.” Morgan could hear the smile in his voice. “What I want is beneficial to both of us.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.”

“You are a powerful queen… Morgan,” he savored the name, “And I, I was born, no created a king. I’m just as powerful as you… Well, truth be told, I’m more so.”

Morgan’s light snuffed out, leaving a bright spot in her vision. Though she had been facing the direction of his voice before, somehow he was behind her, his breath on her ear.

“You are beautiful… Morgan. And no one is more deserving of that beauty… then me.”

Morgan bolted up, a bad idea when you are sleeping in a tree. She tumbled out, catching herself with her wings seconds before she would have hit the ground. She hovered for a while, feeling her pulse, waiting for her heartbeat to slow down. When it had gone back to a normal pace, she slowly lowered herself until her boots touched the leaf-strewn ground. She looked up at the sky, and saw red on the southern horizon.

“I forgot the sun rises there.” Morgan muttered to herself. “I wonder what the tides are like, since they have no moon. I expect there’d be none.” She shook her head, trying to clear out the fuzziness. “Concentrate. Desert. We are going to the desert.”

Unwanted conclusions about her dream were being drawn as she rode towards the mountains at a leisurely trot. The more she tried to put it out of her mind, the more she thought about it.

“Fuck. I am so, so screwed.”