DreamScape

That night her dreams turned into nightmares.

She was standing on an open plain; the ground was dusty and crumbled beneath her feet. The wind whipped through her hair, forcing it loose of its plait and into her face. Impatiently she pushed them out of her eyes and behind her ears in a vain attempt.

That’s when she heard them. Clear strong notes came to her on the wind. As they came closer she had to push down the panic she felt as it rose up and was grabbing at her heart.

Looking up, dark figures appeared, first looking like nothing more than vague shadowy shapes, but as she watched, they became more distinct. A tail appeared, long and snakelike, then haunches came into focus, the skin bulging with muscle underneath them. The figures continued to circle, only teasing her with a glimpse of a talon, or tooth, or wing.

They swooped down, one only a stone’s throw from her. Finally recognition rang: these were dragons! Turning to look fully upon the one that had landed, she was astonished at the dragon’s appearance.

The scales were not like polished gems as the stories went, but rather were a molted, scratched surface. Its color was black, but because of the scales, the color looked dull, dead, and listless. Its talons were stained dark, they were not ivory, but a reddish black shade.

But what startled her the most was the dragon’s eyes. They were white, just ivory white. There were not irises, no color, just white. A dragon’s eyes were supposed to be full of fire, joy, laughter, emotions. This dragon had nothing.

“My master wishes to speak to you, little girl” hissed a strange voice. Looking up in shock, she saw that the dragons rider was nothing more than a figure draped in a thick black cloak, the face hidden within the cowl.

                Again the rider re-stated his command. Riona had to fight down the panic that had gripped her heart with its icy cold fingers.

                She couldn’t respond, her mouth felt like it had been locked shut. She couldn’t move, her thoughts became scattered, she couldn’t even remember her own name. To her further horror, a bone white, sickly thing hand emerged from the riders sleeve.

Captivated by the hand, and frozen in place because of the fear gripping her heart, she didn’t notice that the other dragons had landed and had formed a circle around her.

The hand moved to point directly to her heart. In response her heart started beating, and beating louder and louder until she was sure that the rider could hear it.

“Ahhh, yesss, you are his daughter. My master will be very pleased when I return to him with you.” The voice inside of the cowl hissed again.

But hearing her father mentioned, broke whatever hold the rider had over her. She had never known her father. But just the reference gave her the strength to summon her power and keep the icy fingers away from her heart. It warmed her enough to ask the strange rider questions of her own.
“Who is my father? And who is your master?”

But before the cloaked rider could respond, a sword seemed to grow out of his chest, point first. Instead of being shocked the creature laughed. It was a high, cold, bone chilling sound.

“I knew you would come to save your whelp, you know you can’t kill me from there.” Twisting his arm around, the rider pulled the sword out, and threw it into the circle he and his company had formed.

The sword fell to the left of her. She bent down to examine it. The ruby in the hilt looked dull, there was no sparkle. The blade itself was remarkable. It glimmered and shone under her gaze. Only a single line down the middle of the sword, meant to drain blood, marred the surface of the blade.

Intrigued by the blade, she reached down to pick it up. It looked so bare lying there without someone holding it.

“Stop! That is not for you.” The voice hissed, but she wasn’t listening to him. If he had called her someones whelp, he could only have been referring to her father. Then if this sword had been his, it was hers by right of inheritance.

She grasped the handle, and lifted. To her surprise the sword was lighter than she had thought. Everything faded, the riders were gone, and the plain that she had been standing upon was gone.

Instead she was back in the courtyard she had been in before. The same chairs were around her, except this time she was standing and the sword was in her hand still. The man with the beard was there, he came walking around a column, though she didn’t hear any footsteps.

“Why did you bring me back here?” she asked directly, holding the sword made her feel more protected, despite the fact that she had never held one before. It felt like an extension of her arm.

She could see that he was laughing at her as he answered. “I brought you back because the Diajin would have taken you it I had not.” Seeing her confusion he explained. “The Diajin was sent to retrieve you for its master, the one who calls himself emperor. You would have died along the way, or at least when he pulled you back out of the shadows you would have. Traveling like that is not open to mortals.”

“But why would he want me?”

He looked strangely at her for a moment, like he didn’t understand what she had said. He sat down abruptly in a chair, and shook his head as if he was trying to clear his mind of something. Looking up at her, his eyes were troubled, but he held out his hands to her, and she went to him without thinking.

His eyes met hers, and he held her right hand in his large ones. “You are very important, I cannot tell you now, but believe me when I say it.” He stood up, still holding her hand.

Placing a hand on her cheek, he spoke quietly. “Riona, Rhy’dages tai’sai, you need to wake up now.” The background started fading as he spoke. “Riona, Rhy’dages tai’sai, you need to wake up now.”

He started to grow blurry, but his hand was so warm on her cheek, almost to the point of being unbearable. She heard his voice one last time. “You need to wake up; you don’t want to miss this, Rhy’dages tai’sai.”