Dragon's Breath

By Rick Lee

The Current Synopsis of the Work:

After the Great Wars, the race of man has all but pushed aside the sub-races of Orcs and Goblins, and forced the Elves and Dwarves to withdraw into a different dimension to ensure their survival. As powerful as man may seem, there is one who is mightier still. Through the power of an ancient amulet Dragons Breath the evil spirit of an omnipotent malignant Dragon is set on destroying the world. As foretold and regulated by "the Prophecy", the beautiful Elven race will have to do everything in their magical powers to prevent the total annihilation of all races, and the destruction of the world as they know it. They have no choice but to seek renewed alliances with their old enemies, the humans and the dwarves. And thus, the scene is set for a thrilling adventure of epic proportions.

Become enchanted by this artful mixture of fantasy and legend, with a bit of native cultures and beliefs, and the added spice of humor and sensuality. Join the strong characters as they fight to defend everything they love, in a story that will entrance you.

Characters:


There are numerous main and supporting characters throughout the story as there are several story lines going on simultaneously (not even mentioning the Dragon himself, who, even asleep, is the most menacing character of all!). Just a few of the most important ones are:
Tia, Queen of the Elves, a strong, wise, feminine and wily woman
General Dade, the Elven Commander with a volatile character (who, though seasoned and experienced in war craft, is clumsy with women)
Mandrake, the Elven Cleric having to find a way to defeat the Dragon
Eldeen, the ethereally beautiful and powerful Elven Priestess
KatLen, an Elven Captain banished to the world of humans
Guardian, a chivalrous human rebel leader
Galdaneen, the flamboyant Elven Wizard
Asthel and LaTraiel, the Queens daughter and her friend, sent on a quest to find the elusive Dwarven race

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 10, 2009
• ISBN: 9781477166932

Rick Lee

I am 57 years of age. I am an office professional, Married, four children, along with six grandchildren. I have been writing short stories for friends and family for a number of years, and have won a few awards for my short-story writing. I was named most Influential Writer of the year for 2002 for the on-line magazine I have contributed short stories for. I was also awarded recognition for best scene in a story, along with best character development for a short story, also for 2002. In addition, I was asked as a guest writer to contribute for a prestigious on-line magazine 'Anais' for Wellesley College. I am currently living in West Jordan, Utah where I am close to all my family and friends.

Book preview

Prologue

Out of the ash rose the great Beast. All that had been was destroyed. Though the sun burned, the day was as dark as night when the fires below fueled the night sky with smoke so thick as to smother out the light.

Was it really necessary, Marragg? Abagon’dinin asked. "Were they truly such a threat to our kind that all should be destroyed?"

Abagon’dinin, Goddess Mother of Dragons looked upon the destruction the young Dragon and his minion had wrought.

They were, Mother, Marragg told her. They were beginning to grow, spreading too widely. There was too much power for a kind such of theirs to wield and control. Eventually, they would have destroyed us.

Perhaps, Marragg, perhaps. But it had taken so long to cultivate them for our amusements. And it will be a much longer time again before there is anything to be made in taking their place.

"A while, yes… but not all were destroyed, Mother. There are small groups who will eventually find themselves and begin again."

You have injured, deformed many, though. Will they heal? Will they grow strong enough to live on?

"They still have some magic. Though not enough to ever threaten us again. Eventually, they will learn how to heal themselves, and work toward rebuilding their races. Though I doubt many will ever remember who they were or had once been. The power of the amulet has seen to that," Marragg told her happily.

"Speaking of which, Marragg, return the amulet to me. I should never have allowed you to use it in such a fashion. It is the pure essence of us all. There is no greater power in existence anywhere, and I now regret in part your misuse of it in this way," she chided him.

Abagon’dinin was the mother of all Dragons, and as such, was the only female. All others where killed immediately when it was determined that the eggs carrying them were other than males. For there could only be one Queen, one ruler amongst their kind, and she, Abagon’dinin… was eternal.

As she turned, standing high atop the greatest mountain over looking the valley below, she again stared at the desolate, burnt out landscape where once great forests of trees had grown in abundance. Now gone, burnt-out smoking husks were all that remained. Turning back toward her son—son of sons, really—she’d felt his approach, curiously wondering what he was up to. Within his clawed hand he clasped the boulder-sized medallion.

Here, Mother. You wanted this? he grinned. His great gaping smile split into several rows of razor sharp teeth.

What are you doing, Marragg? she asked, worried now for the first time in her entire existence.

Marragg clutched the amulet, squeezing it with all his might, simultaneously drawing from it as much power as he could possibly hold. A link to all Dragons, Marragg began to incorporate many of their strengths, their abilities into himself. Almost immediately he grew to five times his normal size, killing off many of the much younger, weaker members of his species in the process.

Marragg! Stop this! You’re drawing off too much power from those of the others!

Yes… I know, he grinned, saliva pooling in the corners of his mouth as the exquisite pleasure-pain consumed more and more of him.

Why, Marragg? Why?

Because I will not be ruled… not by you, not by anyone!

In the next instant, he leaped upon her, his obvious size and power, a distinct advantage. She however still matched him in strength of magical ability, and using it to offset his tremendous size. Locked in a life and death struggle now, Marragg gripped Abagon’dinin, driving his claws piercingly into the scaly hide of her being. She somehow managed to hold him there, not quite drawing blood though he pressed continuously using his will, strength, and whatever magic force he could muster against hers.

For years they remained in this titanic struggle, Marragg forever pressing his slight advantage, refusing to give way just as Abagon’dinin refused to succumb to his deadly attack.

Abagon’dinin knew this battle to be a stalemate. She could not possibly win, simply due to his size and strength. He, however, could not win due to her magical ability to keep him at bay. In time, Marragg began to understand the futility of pressing this attack the way he had been. Borne perhaps out of frustration, or simple foolish pride, Marragg then did the unthinkable. Using the amulet as a conductor of sorts, he began siphoning off the essence of his own soul. In doing that, it created a spiritual vacuum, taking with it equal parts of Abagon’dinin’s essence too, and there was little if anything that she could do about it. Though Marragg would irrevocably weaken his greater self, in time… he would in fact drain away Abagon’dinin’s life force entirely.

It was when she realized his intent that she did the only thing she could. Before Marragg could even respond, she gave up… totally and completely. His great extended claws, which by now had been pressing against her chest for hundreds of years, suddenly plunged deeply into her flesh. As her life’s blood sprayed freely in great fountainous eruptions, it covered the amulet Marragg still clutched, corroding it beyond the magic’s ability to withstand. As it began to crumble away, Abagon’dinin threw the entire will of her soul’s essence into the bits and particles of what had once been her entire universe. With her last dying breath, she looked fiercely into Marragg’s astonished face, and blew. When she did, the amulet exploded into a thousand tiny fragments, scattering them to all corners of the earth.

Though Marragg had won, the cost of doing so not only to himself, but also to his entire race had been a dear price to pay. Weakened beyond his wildest expectations, he found that he now needed to sleep, resting occasionally for long periods of time. Marragg in his struggle for dominance had forever weakened the race of Dragons, for all had felt, and been affected by the almost cataclysmic explosion that had destroyed so many of his kind. Of the Dragons that had once existed in greater numbers than anyone could possibly imagine, there were now left less than a thousand of them in total.

Not a single female remained to replenish the species.

Even weakened as he was, when Marragg had time to consider it, he decided it really wasn’t such a bad thing. Fewer Dragons meant fewer challenges to his authority and dominion. And though he slept for long periods of time, as they all did, there was no danger that existed for Marragg to be concerned about.

Not for a time, anyway.

*    *    *

A small young girl with thin, pointed ears reached down amongst the wild flowers, picking several to take home to her mother as a gift for her mother’s naming day. A particularly beautiful flower, surprisingly small and delicate, had somehow managed to push itself free from the soil as well as the trappings of rock in its attempt to reach the sunlight above. As the young girl reached down to pick the unusual-looking flower, she did not see the tiny thorns that lay in wait beneath its soft green petals.

Ouch!

A tiny drop of blood fell, hitting the blackened stone still as yet imprisoning the flower. Fresh blood, filled with the essence of life, mingled now with a long inert magic and that of which had once been dragon’s blood. And in that moment, a new universe was born.

A short time later, an innocent child presented her mother not with one gift… but two. A flower that had amazingly and surprisingly bloomed into a tall, healthy looking one, along with an interesting stone that in some ways resembled a dragon.

Forward

It had been twelve hundred years since the Great War. ‘War of Wars’, it had been called. An age when man had begun to prosper, propagating almost as quickly as rabbits. And in doing so… became a threat to the sub-races of Orcs, Goblins, Trolls and the like. It was inevitable that the two races would clash, fighting for superiority and the right to survive.

As the race of man had spread, gaining in knowledge and ability, they began a long slow period of extermination of the lesser races. Eventually, the Orcs saw the need for a combined alliance. Only then would their numbers match those of the human race. But even that wasn’t enough to ensure their victory. It would take something more; the power of the old and ancient amulet—‘Dragon’s Breath’, as it was referred to—to control the Dragons and not just one, but all of those that still existed. Only a Sorcerer or Wizard of great strength and power could even wield it.’

The whereabouts of the fabled amulet was unknown for sure, but rumors had it last in the possession of the Elves. They had not been seen or heard of it for several hundred years. Elven magic was no doubt at work, secreting away their realm, as they had all but withdrawn from the world, trusting in no one save themselves.

Year after year the Great War raged on, neither side gaining advantage. Thousands were slain, tens of thousands died each year as the greatest of all battles raged on. Eventually, Galrog, one of the few remaining Orc sorcerers, had gone in search of the Swamp Witch, enlisting her aid at great cost and expense to himself. It was through her ability to scry out the whereabouts of the fabled amulet that its discovery was found to be amongst the Elves, hidden away for well over a millennia. Galrog himself then ventured deep within the realm of the Drow, dark and distant cousins of the Elves. Though they had long ago decided not to join forces, nor intervene with the conflict upon the surface, it didn’t take much convincing that it was in their best interests to help in the procurement of the amulet.

Using what limited enchantments still remained, as the time of fairy was drawing to a close, magical items of any sort were a rarity. Where spells, scrolls, weapons of enchantment and great power once existed in great supply, years of misuse by all the races had destroyed their ability to remain, coexisting with the natural sciences had become all but impossible as magic began to run rampant… destructive. Yet there remained a few spells, precious indeed for their powers and limited abilities. Having convinced the Drow of the urgency to procure the amulet, knowing now where it was safely hidden away, one of the old and ancient Matron Mothers had given to Galrog an irreversible potion. He knew that in taking it, he could never again return to being an Orc. He would become physically in every sense of the word, an Elf. But more importantly, a particular Elf, one who was revered, trusted and loved more than any other; King Altrain himself!

In the war of the Drow, before the Great Wars, the Drow had fought against their cousins in an effort to finally defeat them. And though this war was fought at best to a draw, King Altrain had been slightly injured, losing one of his ears. Little did anyone know then, that it would take so little, when the discovery by one of the great Drow Magi of ‘Physical Exchange’, as he so aptly named it, could be conjured by the simplest bit of flesh. Having kept King Altrain’s ear as a souvenir, dried and deformed now as it was, The Mage had long wondered how it might one day best be used.

It wouldn’t take long for the Elves to discover that their great King was no longer who he really was. No one could hope to maintain the charade for very long, long enough to accomplish anything worthwhile anyway. But in this, perhaps long enough at least for Galrog to steal away the amulet, get it safely to his kinship to use in the defeat and eventual destruction of the race of man. Though his life would be sacrificed in the process, it was a small price to pay for the eventual victory that was sure to follow once the Dragons of old were called forth in allegiance to the Orcan race.

Even this was a gamble. For there hadn’t been seen a dragon for well over five hundred years. Only if their existence remained was there any real assurance that they would come in support of the Orc and Goblin forces. There was also a second danger, a very real one indeed. Would the Elves, long gone from the race of man, venture forth to once again join in alliance with them? With the taking, or exchange rather, of King Altrain’s true form… it was a very real possibility.

Deciding that the risk, great as it was, was worth the effort as the only possible means to ensure the ultimate defeat of man, Galrog drank from the potion once Altrain’s ear had been powdered to dust, and mixed within the magical ingredients. Almost immediately, Galrog’s essence was transferred into Altrain’s body. And likewise, Altrain’s spirit ascended into Galrog’s form, where a host of Orcs lay in wait butchering him to pieces the moment he awoke, realizing where he was and who he had become.

As for Galrog, the Elven history never makes mention of him again. Whether he discovered the location of the amulet or not was never known. King Altrain ceased to exist, as did Galrog. And though the mystery of what happened to him and the amulet remained, what had been the greatest fear occurred. Shortly after, the Elves came out of hiding along with their talismans, enchantments and what limited magic that remained. They joined forces with the race of man and though far fewer in number, they eventually made all the difference in the world, as the lesser races were quickly defeated and all but eradicated from the face of the earth.

For a time… peace reigned supreme.

Chapter One

THE PROPHECY

The Queen sat huddled comfortably near the hearth where a nice warm fire took the chill off the early morning cold. Tia, Queen of the Elves, normally looked forward to the Fall Harvest Festival, which was but a few weeks away. Not this time, however. It wasn’t the colder than normal weather that had her concerned, either, as there had been fall weather far colder and sooner to arrive than this had been. No, it was the lack of female births that had her worried. With the year drawing to a close and the harvest moon coming up, there had been only seven females born during the entire year. The first sign of the prophecy had come to bear.

Mother?

So lost in thought, the Queen hadn’t heard her daughter as she entered the room carrying her granddaughter.

You don’t appear to have gotten any sleep! Concern shadowed Ahstel’s eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this, this morning? We can wait until later this afternoon."

No. I’m fine, Ahstel. Now more than ever, I think it’s important that I continue on with Gayleen’s instruction. Give her to me. Tia held her hands out so that she could take the baby from her daughter.

Gayleen had been the last female child born this year. Barely three months old, for an Elven child, it still wasn’t too early to begin teaching her the Elven histories.

Though Elves could live for a very, very long time there weren’t many who now numbered even close to two thousand years. Many of the elderly had died unexpectedly this past year, another distant sign pointing toward the Prophecy. Tia herself was old, already beginning to feel her age for the first time, the cold morning air a reminder as her joints ached painfully. Though Ahstel, first borne to the ancestral line, would one day succeed her as Queen, she couldn’t help but wonder of the future that her daughter would one day inherit from her.

Tia settled more comfortably into her chair, rocking Gayleen as she did, without the intention of putting the child to sleep. This was the Elven way of ensuring she had her attention.

Focused now, the baby lay quietly, listening… waiting for the words from her grandmother that would teach her of the Elves and about herself. Though unable to communicate verbally as yet, Gayleen would remember the words spoken to her. As she grew, she’d learn how to master her vocal and motor skills, well ahead of any human baby her age, but therein lay the problem.

Unlike humans, Elves conceived only every ten years or so. Though strong in spirit, strength as well as wisdom and knowledge, their numbers were few in comparison to the race of man. Their warriors, the heart and soul of their army, listed less than a thousand highly skilled, trained men and women. Though there were another two or three hundred who were apprenticing to become warriors, it was the first time in recent memory that Tia could not call upon her forces, numbering at least five times that amount.

The Elven war with the human race had taken its toll upon her people. It had been the primary reason why she and the Elven Council had taken the steps that they had well over a thousand years ago as a precaution to ensure their survival.

Holding Gayleen firmly cradled within her arms against her breast, she gazed into the child’s eyes, confirming that Gayleen was waiting on her to begin their day’s lesson.

Let’s see… where did we leave off yesterday, Gayleen? Oh, yes… after the Great Wars.

Tia now closed her eyes, recalling that moment in time, remembering it clearly as though it were yesterday.

For nearly one hundred years, man and Elf alike lived in peace and harmony. But as time continued, those humans who had suffered, who had endured the Great War, began dying off. Those who came behind them knew not of the friendships and trust, which had been formed between our two nations. In time, humans began to fear the Elves, without cause and without reason. Greed and envy, along with their inability to understand our ways and beliefs, not to mention the magics that only we still possessed, soon caused them to look upon us with contempt and distaste rather than in friendship as we had once known it.

Tia opened her eyes, gazing once again down at Gayleen, pleased when she saw the baby alert, though busily sucking on her fist, obviously hearing if not quite yet understanding every word being spoken to her.

For those of us who lived amongst the humans, there began a slow hatred, eventually resulting in violent uprisings. Even those humans whose armies had been victorious because of us tended to look the other way. Though there were many who voiced their continued friendships with our race, there were many more who spoke against us, making claims that were not true. Rumors began to spread like wildfire until the majority of those who feared us, once again raised a great army to come against the Elves and rid us from the land.

Tia stood up from her chair, carrying the baby toward the window of the tower that was her primary resting quarters. Below her, down in the courtyard she could see Ahstel as she stood watching her husband, Prince Altwain. He worked feverishly in the practice yard, wooden swords in both hands as he fenced and parried, instructing four young apprentices in the skill of sword and dagger. Tia had to take a moment to swallow, her throat suddenly dry as she silently watched the practice session taking place. Concern and worry were etched in her features, feeling that those skills being so expertly honed into each and every available warrior might one day soon be called on again.

"For many years we fought a delaying action, trying where we could to convince the human race that we were not their enemy! But sadly, they listened not. Many died on both sides… though the numbers were staggering to those who were human in comparison to the number of Elven warriors who were lost. But yet… even those losses proved to be too much for our continued survival.

"Eventually, when the Council of the Elves was convened, it was put before them that we had but two choices if we were going to win and survive. Neither one being a preferred choice, because of the resulting consequences. Many of the Elven Council voted that we turn loose our magic. That we use it, unleashing a force of incredible power, all but destroying the human race. But even in this there were unknown side effects, for it was in just this same way when used against the race of Orcs, Goblins were born. To risk such an unleashing of death would once again spread across the land, an Evil… born of too great an amount of magic used, would again seal the fate of not only mankind, but of the Elves themselves.

"As to the other unthinkable option, perhaps untried, but by far, the lesser of two evils, was finally decided that my mother, Princess Gayleen, whose name you so honorably bear, took with her six other females, virgins all, along with the amulet of the Great Dragon Marragg, where they would abide in the temple of Shadows as guardians and seers of the void.

"The amulet was called in the old tongue of our ancestors, ‘fire maile’, or Dragon’s Breath, as we now call it, though the true interpretation means ‘fiery breath lust’. No one aside from myself understands or knows the real meaning behind this now. The amulet is a link to the oldest, most powerful magic still in existence, though the very idea of combining Elven magic with that of the Beast was to most, unthinkable. Only by that combined power could we ever hope to escape the eventual slaughter and destruction of our people. It would take a great sacrifice, and worse… a pact with Marragg himself that we would have to honor when payment came due, if there was any hope for our continued existence."

Gayleen’s eyes were wide. And though it was still far too early to know if Gayleen understood much of what she was being told to her, she couldn’t help but see a spark of fear, alarm… even concern within the baby’s eyes as she looked back at her grandmother.

Marragg hadn’t been seen for two thousand years. Had it not been for the Elven histories, tomes that hinted, if not directly pointed to his sleeping lair, there would have been no hope. No hope at all. With the aid of the Amulet, most of the Elven party survived their quest to seek out and thus confront the Great Dragon to make a pact. Combining the magic of our people, entrusted to my mother, contained within the amulet itself… Marragg, mightiest Dragon of them all, did eventually relent, opening the plane of dimension between that world, and the one we live in now. And thus did the race of Elves disappear entirely from the face of the earth, coexisting now in a realm neither here nor there, but a space in time between.

Tia was a strong woman; as Queen, she had to be. But as she sat with the young princess cradled gently within her arms, she felt her eyes moisten, tears gather. Tears that she hadn’t allowed or felt in years, not even at the sudden disappearance and eventual death of her husband, King Altrain. But now… fearing that the Prophecy was upon them, Queen Tia Altrain cried. She cried for the price once paid for the safety and security of her race, she cried for the continued sacrifice that would once again be asked… and sadly, given in order to ensure that her people, the race of Elves would continue to exist and prosper. Perhaps one day, Elf and Human would coexist again. But it wasn’t now and Tia knew the eventual outcome of that, should the now mythical and legendary race of Elves suddenly reappear.

No, it is not yet time for us to be rejoined. Perhaps one day.

The only choice available to her, if this was the beginning of the Prophecy as she suspected, was to honor their bargain with Marragg. If she was dying, as she suspected, then so was the magic that protected them all. The taint of Dragon’s blood within her had lessened her longevity. A price paid, a pact accepted. In this way, Marragg was assured of fresh stock to satisfy his unearthly lusts and desires.

The question was, was Marragg awakening? Was it indeed the fulfillment of the Prophecy?" Tia could only wonder and fear.

All would know soon enough as the first day of the Harvest Festival, and commencement of the Elven New Year began.

Tia glanced once again toward Gayleen, now fast asleep. The day’s lesson given, hopefully learned and remembered, she placed her granddaughter gently within the cradle that she kept available for her at all times. Walking over toward one of the walls within this chamber, the tapestry, which hung there, depicted a picture of ‘The First Queen of Elves’, a woman whose name was legendary, even revered amongst all. She was poised, elegant, and graceful, drawing all eyes toward her and not the true hidden secret of the tapestry itself.

Behind her inside the tapestry stood a marvelous, meticulously woven picture of a bookcase. Tia reached out her finger, touching one of many books depicted in the background sitting upon the shelf. She spoke the ancient Elven words meaning, ‘To reveal’. When she did, a book appeared solid within her hands.

Tia carried the massive tome over to her study table. Though she knew the passage by heart, she turned to it anyway, reading as she did.

And as set down by those who bare witness,

When the time has come,

When Prophecy of the fulfillment is at hand,

On First Night of the Elven celebrations,

When Harvest festival begins, Bride Night,

So shall the first sign of Marragg’s promise, and thine be seen high within the sky.

For there shall come forth a star, streaking long across the night sky.

And then, also shall you see seven lesser stars,

Each following, chasing as though seeking the first.

This shall be your calling, and notice.

Marragg awakes.

Chapter Two

BRIDE NIGHT,

FIRST NIGHT OF THE ELVEN NEW YEAR

La’Traiel was excited. One of only three brides to be wed this night, she sat relaxing within the brides pavilion, colorfully decorated, the best foods, wines and comforts available. Along with her, were her two fellow ‘bride sisters’, AnGwene, and Elise. It was a time of festivity, excitement for the night, especially the night to come.

La’Traiel really was beautiful. Tall for an Elf, especially a female, her near bright white hair that cascaded in tight ringlets well down her back had been carefully braided with black and gold ribbons, an honorific to her husband to be. Galrand was a member of the elite ‘Shadow Riders’, as they called themselves. Only one of a hundred superbly trained warriors, master in all forms of warfare, skilled in the use of every available weapon. He was second in command of the elite force; a high honor, though also a very important responsibility.

The Shadow Riders were each blessed with a talisman that all but hid them away in the darkness of night. Unseen to the naked eye, they and the horses they rode blended perfectly into the night, their magical garments along with their horses reflecting their surroundings, making them appear almost invisible. With this advantage, they did their best work under the cover of darkness. Though as all realized, their skills, talents and abilities hadn’t been needed or required for a very long time. Still, they practiced with rides into the night, maneuvers against Elven outposts and settlements, ensuring that if they were ever called upon again, they’d be prepared.

La’Traiel had just finished braiding Elise’s long golden hair with the colors of her husband’s family.

La’Traiel? she asked. Are you nervous?

La’Traiel laughed. Of course I am. It’s a big step to enter into a marriage contract.

"That’s not exactly what I meant, Elise said, blushing. I mean after the ceremony, after the blessing has been announced upon us. When before all, as Galrand will do with you, and Kat’Len will do with me, in the shedding of souls before the bride council…"

You’re nervous about your nudity? La’Traiel was surprised. Surely, you have been seen naked before in front of the Elders at the bathing pools.

Yes, but it’s not being nude in front of everyone that bothers me. It’s his ceremonial acceptance of me that I worry about the most. How will he view me? How will he describe me to the members, and so justify his love and reasoning for taking me as wife?

Oh, I see! You’re worried that his eloquence in your description might not be as flowery, or as complimentary as it should be?

Elise blushed even more deeply. "No… just the opposite. You know that Kat’Len is a man of very few words. A great warrior, yes, but with speech about as polished as a razorback mud womp. I fear he will go on a little too much in trying to make an impression of me before the council."

La’Traiel couldn’t stifle her laughter. So let him, Elise! After all, this night comes but once in a lifetime for us. Enjoy it, no matter the words chosen or used. Kat’Len adores you, worships you and if his words are simple, or harsh, even perhaps a bit bold, let him speak from his heart about you in the only way that he knows how!

Elise smiled, lowering her head, still blushing furiously. "Yes, of course you are right. He really does love me, doesn’t he?" she added, beaming.

*     *     *

Tia paced the floor of her bedchamber nervously. Her attendants had long ago dressed her in preparation for the ceremonial acceptance, finally leaving her alone to her thoughts. She, along with several members of the council, would listen to the acceptance speeches, a mere formality really as none had ever been denied the right of acceptance. It had become a challenge of sorts, as each year the males tried very hard to out do one another in the sensual, provocative descriptions of their brides to be. Normally, a time of frivolity, gaiety, laughter, even excitement, Tia could not find the joy in any of it. Since she now knew it to be with the birthing of only seven girls this past year, the likelihood of the first sign of the Prophecy now having come to pass. It was only the beginning of several signs yet to come, some of which would have a dramatic and major impact on her subjects. One in particular.

Tia heard a soft knock upon her chamber door a mere moment before it opened. Ahstel entered the room, her long dark hair braided in colors of black and gold, as her husband’s hair would be. She would be in attendance as La’Traiel’s wife-sister.

Engaged since last Promise Night to Prince Altwain’s brother, Galrand Altwain, Prince Regent, second in command of the Shadow Riders. She had grown close to her in more ways than one, for they had shared sister-secrets of the marriage bed. Ahstel had taken delight in instructing her in all of the ways necessary to pleasure, as well as keep her husband happy and satisfied. Not only that of course, but in how to gently coax him into ensuring that her needs were fulfilled as well.

Mother? It’s almost time, Ahstel softly spoke.

Tia looked at her daughter, sadness and worry clearly etched within the confines of her once young-looking face. The worry lines of age had crept in, startling her daughter, seeing such an obvious change in her mother’s face almost overnight.

Tia glanced one more time out the window of her tower. The moon was full and bright, though not quite yet in position. There’s still time… still hope, she thought, but it was a fruitless appeal. If Marragg had begun to awaken, the Prophecy would certainly come to pass.

As though reading her mind, Ahstel spoke, sharing her mother’s worries and concerns. "Do you know which one he will take? If indeed, it begins this night."

Tia finally turned from the window gathering her skirts about her.

No, I know not which of the three he shall claim this night as his spiritual hostage. His plaything, his… his… .

Tia grew frustrated. Marragg would not physically awaken for quite a number of years yet. He would begin the long, slow process of becoming more aware of his surroundings. As he did, he would become more and more grumpy, finally bored and even angry, as his physical self would start to fight against his mental self in finally arising from a thousand years of sleep. He would look for companionship, mentally taking his spiritual bride to appease his lusts. He would not claim his Elven bride in the flesh, not yet. He would use her in his human form, entertaining himself to his heart’s desire over a period of several years, perhaps.

Until… until she was released. God of the Elves forgive us, Tia thought, following Ahstel out of the room and into the night.

*     *     *

It’s almost time! AnGwene said excitedly, giggling. The youngest of the three, she had barely received consent from her father to participate in this year’s Bride Night. Holding her acceptance gown, she turned toward La’Traiel. Would you mind helping me?

They had all hand-sewn the intricate, delicate, lacy gowns over the course of the year. As La’Traiel helped AnGwene into hers, she applied the last tiny stitches completing the dress. It was intended to never come off once put on; only their husbands would be given the honor of removing the gown.

I can’t believe after all that work, that in a short time from now, this beautiful dress will be nothing more than tattered shreds! she wailed.

That’s the whole point, AnGwene, Elise told her. You’ve taken pride in what you’ve created, a beautiful extension of who you are. And in offering it, you offer yourself to your husband, you state by the sacrifice of this hard work that there is nothing more important than he is to you… and you to he.

I know, AnGwene responded sheepishly. It’s just that it’s so beautiful… and so much work.

"As is any marriage contract, if it’s to survive, La’Traiel added, speaking to both women. Remember that. Now, help me with my dress."

They quickly helped one another to finish dressing. La’Traiel’s floor-length gown was a spectacular thing of beauty. Mostly all lace, it criss-crossed in an interweaving pattern outlining a magnificent looking Unicorn. Naked beneath it, of course, the darker area of one of La’Traiel’s nipples fell perfectly into position of one of the Unicorn’s eyes, giving the dress depth by the press of her small, though perfectly molded breasts.

My God, La’Traiel! Elise commented boldly. That has to be the most beautiful, intricately sown gown that I’ve ever seen created for Bride Night!

"Thank you, Elise. I have been working on it for nearly fifty years now."

Fifty years? AnGwene stated, a hint of jealousy in her voice. I only started mine a little over eighteen full moons ago!

"And a wonderful job you have done with it, AnGwene, especially in so short a time. Like I said, you should be proud of what you’ve accomplished. I am sure that had you been working on your dress for the past fifty years, it would look even more spectacular than mine!"

AnGwene was beaming at the comment. Elise cast a knowing wink along with a grin toward La’Traiel.

And now, the bonding knife.

Each of them had been given a handmade, jewel-encrusted dagger by their husbands to be. As a part of Promise Night, any man wishing to marry had to present to his betrothed, a ceremonial knife that would be used on Bride Night. Taking the knife that Galrand had made for her, she inserted it within the handmade sheath that matched her dress.

There. All set! she announced happily.

As are we all, Elise added, sheathing her own bonding knife.

Now what? AnGwene questioned nervously.

We wait until we are summoned, La’Traiel announced. As Elise is the eldest, she will be summoned before the council first, followed by myself, and then you, AnGwene.

No one ever speaks of the ceremony, AnGwene commented. Why is that, anyway?

Because it is very sacred, AnGwene, you know that. The acceptance, followed by the vows, is commonly known. But the bonding ritual is a well-guarded secret that only those who have gone through it know. And when we go through it, we’ll come to understand why, I am sure, she told both women.

Elise? It’s time!

Elise’s wife-sister had come for her. She was grinning, broadly.

He’s waiting for you, she stated a little too breathlessly.

Did you enjoy preparing him? Elise asked her, also a little too harshly.

No more than you did for me, her wife-sister shot back in a much more teasing manner.

Elise relaxed, nodding in acknowledgment and smiling. Then I am also ready, Wife-Sister.

Good luck! La’Traiel told her. "And remember… it’s really your night. So enjoy yourself!" she admonished her.

I will! Elise said, smiling. See you in the morning… maybe, she giggled on her way out through the pavilion’s door.

Chapter Three

ACCEPTANCE

As was custom, Elise followed her wife-sister Talmara down the rose path outside the pavilion toward the Altar of Acceptance. A steep flight of some three hundred and sixty hand-carved steps representing each day of the Elven year lay ahead of her as she reached the base of