The Conquest of Mytheyr

It was fortunate that Morgan found a trade caravan heading towards the desert. They were going to a trading town a good way into it, and they invited her to travel with them, provided that she entertain their young ones. Morgan agreed to travel to the town with them, though she told them little of her business.

“Don’t tell us nothing, lass.” The head of the caravan had said, “With that fell pretender in the castle, the less we know the safer for us.”

“Agreed. But perhaps you could help me with a disguise?” Morgan asked.

“Aye. We can find something.”

So that’s how Morgan ended up in Dark Elven desert garb, a loose tan shirt and pants, and a long, wide strip of brown cloth that wrapped around her head and shoulders. Underneath, she wore her dragon scale tunic, and she bound her wings so they were kept flat against her back. She also kept her own boots, as they were so plain and generic they could probably fit into any world or time period. She used a glamour to make her skin appear gray.

“There were fifteen of us, and each of us had brought a dragon. We had just survived the battle I told you about last night.” Morgan told the enraptured children, and to a few adults who were listening in.

“The one with the wraiths?” one child asked.

“Oh, aye. There were three wraiths; all mounted on these… mockeries of wyverns. We were in the air, trying to keep them away from the human troops. We were fifteen Dragonkin Elves on a battlefield of Men, and the only other Fey was Tyrus, the Wood Elf and Orson, the Dwarf. The battle was finished. Their army retreated, well, it was more of a rout actually. We only saw two of the wraiths flying away. All the dragons touched the ground. Do you, little one, know what the Dragonkin do after every battle?” Morgan turned to a young white-haired boy.

“No, miss, I don’t know.” The boy said, shyly.

“How old are you?” she asked the boy.

“Thirty…. six! No, thirty-seven now. My birthday was a month ago.” (That’s about six in human terms.)

“What do they do after battle?” An older girl interrupted.

“They call each other’s names.” Morgan said, “Kind of like a roll call. You yell for your friends until you hear them answer. We all soon found each other, calling the ones who were unaccounted for until we found them. But… there were fifteen dragons… and only fourteen elves. One was missing.”

“Who!?” exclaimed the older girl, “Who was missing, Sil?” Morgan was going by her favorite alias, Sil, since she didn’t want to put the families in the caravan in any more danger then they were already in.

“The one who was missing… was none other then the queen!” Morgan exclaimed. The children gasped. “We kept calling her, but there was no answer. The dragons started trying to sniff her out. I don’t know how Tyrus found out we were looking, but he found her first, unconscious and trapped under the mount of the third wraith. She had killed it, the wraith I mean, not just it’s mount, and was now poisoned for her trouble. Tyrus carried her to the city.”

“Was she alright?” the youngest boy asked.

“Oh, yes.” Morgan assured him, “She was back on her feet in a week. Sometimes wraith poison takes months to heal.”

“Have you ever been poisoned by a wraith?” one of the adults listening in asked.

“Aye. Not pleasant.” Morgan nodded.

“Miss Sil,” started the older girl hesitantly, “if the Queen loved Tyrus so much, why’d he go away after the war? Why didn’t he stay with her?” Morgan couldn’t remember saying the Queen, or, let’s just be honest, she loved Tyrus. Well, it was true, but when did she say it? Ah, it was an innocent enough question.

“Well, she loved Tyrus, but he didn’t feel the same way. Yeah, he loved her, but in a brotherly way. So she let him go, and they parted as friends. Besides, he didn’t leave forever. He’s a Mahero, and his home is in Irideth. Well, he actually lives in Zore, but you get what I mean.”

“Does the Queen still love him?” the girl pressed.

“Why so nosy?” Morgan asked. “Of course she does, as a sister loves a brother. I told you, she let him go. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to sleep.”

“Aww…” the children groaned in unison. Morgan clambered onto the roof of one of the carriages, and slept under the stars.