Another heir, another mouth to feed

Palazathar, the Dragon Lord, stood tall on the crevice overlooking this seasons’ coming brood. The smell of burning white-stone, the chants of his chosen Priests filling the echoes of the Sacred Breeding Chamber. The Dragons did the work, the Choosing and tending the Eggs, but Palazathar maintained the great spell that kept this Chamber sealed away from the rest of the world. 

Dragons, the demi-gods that were the anchor of magic in the world, were held as sacred tools of the creator gods. Every Mynian knew that since they were taken as babes to the Temple to be held up to the Queen Dragon for their blessing.

There was trouble in the great kingdom, for the Queen grew ill recently. Her luminescent scales faded, though she was in good spirits. Her wings seemed to grow thin and unable to support her Holy Body. As a certain sign, she refused to carry Her Mates’ Egg this season. There were plenty of Heirs, but it was a tradition that the Queen and Her Mate produce at least one Egg together every three seasons. Another Heir, another descendant of the holy lineage. But She at last acknowledged that She was not in the strength needed to carry forth that Egg and give a portion of the white fire to the hatchling. 

The other Dragon Families knew of these tidings, but they had their own broods to tend and hatchlings to feed. The merriment of the coming hatching was missing in the mood of this Chamber and even in Palazathar himself. He had seen Queens pass before, but none like Szretir. She had been instrumental in recovering the Dragon lineage after the invasion of the chaos gods. So many shattered eggs, so many slaughtered Dragons. The magic needed for the human and elven magicians to battle these dark, horrible, violent creatures was weak, softened by the reduced population of these sacred creatures. 

“What is the condition of the ancestors, Lord Palazathar?”

Her Holiness, Queen Restretir, had a habit and unique ability to sneak up on him. His power of empathy with the Dragons was limited to the ancestors in question but not humans, but it still made him wish for the ability to sense the latter. She let him get over the welcome shock of knowing she could surprise the High Dragon Mage anytime she wanted. The mating growls and howls of the ancient, holy beasts were music to their ears and to anyone willing and able to listen carefully enough. The alternating heat waves from the lava of this magically awoken volcano under the Light Palace were normal to the Dragons’ bodies, but Palazathar and Queen Restriter knew strong enough spells to shield themselves from the onslaught of the heat. 

“All is well enough, my Queen. The ancient ones still are not breeding this season. One can only hope and wait for the next brood. The survivors have many clutches of Eggs, however. Not royal blues, but there are many golds, reds, greens and even some bronzes. We have the multitude back.” The variance of colors of the new-clutching families was an excellent sign, with or without a royal hatchling this season. But the Queen worried far too much. Most royalty did, with far too much time on their hands. 

“Shall we adjourn to the Palace above? Leave the Ancient Ones to their families.”

Palazathar knew that wasn’t Her concern at all, but just Her way of having a quiet talk with Her Dragon Lord without the noise of the growls and husky dragon-speak. He nodded politely. Not out of fear of losing his magical ability because of her impatience, but out of devotion to the Palace, to the holy Dragons. His bright green gloves moved quickly and with purpose, following the words from his wrinkled mouth. As expected, they vanished from that spot overlooking the lava waves washing over some of the young Dragons. They laughed, enjoying the sensation. Palazathar had seen that act before and found himself jealous. 

Queen Restretir moved about the meeting table as quickly as the movement spell finished its work, taking them both intact to Her chambers high up the Light Palace. To outside onlookers, the Palace looked as if it was made of Light. Pure iridescence and glorious to behold. As if the stones were made from glowing white marble. The royal gown reflected that. Mother-of-Pearl fabric with spell infused threads gave her the glow associated with the throne since Her great-grandmothers’ time taking over the title, beginning the recovery. Conquering barbarian hordes that had no chance against Her magic fell away, screaming back to wherever they crawled out from. Ignorant savages having no idea of the glory and divine history contained in the Dragons residing deep under the Palace of Light. 

“Do not make sunny words with me, Dragon Lord. Where do we stand on bringing back the Royal Egg?” Though there were other heirs to the Nest, they needed at least one heir hatched every few seasons to ensure there would be a Queen or King to rule and guide the fledglings. 

“The current monarchs are capable of producing another Egg, but not this season. Unless……your Majesty wishes to unlock the chest of amethyst?”

She halted her worried pacing. The stress on her mouth belied the radiant beauty of the spell-enhanced crown and the shining gown that almost matched it perfectly. She could feel her Dragon Lords’ chastisement of Her worry, so She stopped, put a delicate hand to the woven wood table and took some breaths. “I do need to slow down. The crown is heavy and I need to remember my advisors know what they are doing. You’ve known for more decades and even centuries than I have.”

“Indeed, I like to think that I do know what I need to do, Majesty.”

Restretir allowed Herself a smile and went back to business. “Under the circumstances, I think that it would be wise to bring out the amethyst and invoke the Powers.” Invoking the spirits locked in the rich purple stone carved and polished in Her far-gone ancestors’ time was risky due to the lack of knowledge of Dragon magic then. It has been done once successfully when a situation like this arose, but it cost the mage his sanity and eventually, his life. The experiment was repeated again with success and no insanity and death, but the ritual and expenditure of magic needed was more than expected. But sacrifice was expected in rule.

“You brought the chest with you, didn’t you?”

Palathazar grinned broadly, and slipped a pale but strong hand into his dark maroon and silver trim robe and pulled out a small chest made of polished amethyst and trimmed in purple velvet. The craftsmanship involved in making it was remarkable. To those with Sight, the magic bond securing it shut was all but impenetrable. Thankfully, Palazathar was one of the rare few magicians that knew the counter-spell to unlock it and reveal the contents. 

Restretir nodded to Her trusted confidant and friend to begin the operation. The focus showed in his eyes along with his hands’ motions, his mouths’ utterances. Time and the ether surrounding the two royals and the respected Palace chamber around them felt still. Sparks and beams flew from the ancient treasure until the lid slowly opened as if there were no locks of power sealing it forever away from those who refused to show it the respect it deserved. 

Floating there in the air above Palazathar’s long fingers and slender palm, the raw amethyst also floated about the chest depths. The contents of the chest were simply….stars. Darkness of the cosmos, and stars. Nothing else. Queen Restretir leaned forward to the raw rock and carefully, with respect, snapped off a piece of it. It then lay down slowly in Her palm as it were a tired, tiny human settling down for a nap. Once the deed was done, the amethyst settled back down into the body of the universe that it seemed to have been invoked from, surrounded by its own element before then. The lid snapped shut again with no spells from Palathazar needed. 

“Many thanks to you once again, dear friend.” Her Majesty tried not to show the pain from the thread pulling at Her hand, as if the fragment ached to be with the Dragons below. Giving credit where it is due was one job of the Queen. “Might I suggest we adjourn to the Nesting Grounds?”

Palathazar only nodded and once again, whisked his robed arms around in circles and they found themselves back on the crevice overlooking Szretirs’ Nest. Her Concubine, Braznar, sat the Nest alongside Her. He barked some of their language and nodded up at the Dragon Lord and the all-too-human Queen. They looked up, grinning broadly and craned their long necks up. They knew. They always seemed to know. Queen Restretir took the sacred fragment and snapped it in two and dropped it to the two Hopes. Gratefully, it was gulped down and swallowed. They purred, and hummed and little tune. To humans, it sounded like a simple melody, but the Dragon Lord knew better. They were happy, ecstatic. The song, the tune began to be carried throughout the Nesting Ground until the two royal humans’ ears were ringing with the sound. Szretir literally glowed a deep, but bright, purple. Even the humans could feel something stirring. Something of power building and aching to burst forth. 

The Queen Dragon’s belly grew large suddenly. A life stirred beautifully inside of its protective Egg within Her. The human Queen and even the great and learned Dragon Lord refused to hold back tears at the feeling of happiness and gratitude that they were witness to this miracle. Being this close to them, the wave of peace and contentment washed over them both. The rest of the Nesting Ground howled in support and the love of…..

“Ennis! Ennis! Damnit, boy! I’ve told you to stop staring at the walls! Neighbors are gonna talk! You don’t wanna upset your momma again! Find something to do!!”

Oh, no. Not again. Not here. Please, no more. I have to know. I HAVE to know!! Please, let this be just a nightmare. Let the Palace be real, let the Dragons be real.

Ennis McCormick blinked his eyes, not realizing he had “left” this world again. He cried again, seeing the flat plains, the dried crops outside the windows that were as gray and opaque as the walls in the “living” room. His brother and sister laughing again, hearing their father….or what they were told was their father….beginning his verbal torment. 

“What am I going to do?! I can’t stay here! Are you all real? Please don’t let this be my life!!” He mumbled to himself or to the Dragons and Palathazar, facepalming, sweating in the dry summer air. He hated this so much after seeing and feeling himself totally involved in the Dragons’ world. The Palace of Light that felt so real, seeing it in so much detail. Meantime, their father rattled on and on about sending him to military school, or just enlisting him in the army as soon as he was out of school to “make a man out of him!!!!” as he was so fond of telling everyone about this unproductive habit of his.

“Please, please…where is my amethyst fragment?!?” he slumped over the edge of the bed and cried. Again.