Thunder and Lightning - A Tale of the Fool and the Fair (Part 9)

CHAPTER 11: THE CIRCLE OF LIFE


TaleSpinner had seemed drawn and wan at the end of her last telling. Indeed, Flozzie had felt close to guilty. So guilty that he had ordered an extra three barrels of Sonea’s best Honey-Beer for the drakonel. But then Flozzie had remembered that he had never seen TaleSpinner drink such, and not wishing to insult the WordSmith, he had taken upon himself the onerous task of ensuring Sonea had not thought others found her wares sub-standard. Thus it was a more than merry dwarf who arrived at the Hall, to find as he approached that a drake who lay on her back soaking sunlight on the Hall’s roof was not likely to have borne lasting pain…

As Flozzie took his usual seat, and the inn staff brought forth the delights they might best offer, a small human child stood looking at the drake on the roof. He looked serious and deep in concentration. After a time, the air shivered and the drake was gone, but a smaller, two legged figure slipped from the roof and landed neatly at the child’s feet.

“ You seem troubled, little one…�

“ Little! I’m near as big as you! Where did ‘Spunner go?�

“ Well, the thing with dragons is, sometimes they be big, and sometimes they be smaller. And for now… I am small-spinner!�

The Khutit grinned.

“ Well, ‘f I was big, I wouldn’t ever be small. Then… then…�

“ Then what, little-one-that-would-be-large?�

“ Then I’d be big!�

This set even the Khutit back somewhat, but she took it in her stride.

“ So. What troubles ye?�

“ ‘Spunner… Well, if you say’s you’re ‘Spunner… you was sad last night… and Uncle Flozzie was cryin’! Is tonight sad? An… An…. An you said Sonea lady was dead, but she’s right over there! Of course, momma says she be one o’ the Gifted people.�

“ Tonight… tonight… Well. Why do we not go see? Show me how fast you can run, and tell them I come.�

“ Fast? I’se the fastest ever!�

And the young one was gone.

TaleSpinner watched him run, as she shivered once more into the drake form she wore most. Had she ever been that young? The Tale was not old… but the Tale was not young. But, no matter. The words waited, just beyond hearing where they always waited. She went into the Hall.

" A tale... a tale.... a tale...."

The chant greeted her as she entered.

"Did ye ever hear tell of Thunder and Lightning? Of the Fool and the Fair?"

The words were like unto a dance, and each must set them in its proper part. And now… it was time for these again.

Sonea Finder, little cinder,
cast upon the storm.
Burned by fire and crossed death’s pyre,
ever-now reborn.

At the words already familiar, some among those who listened looked surprised.

“Now this part of Sonea’s Story was told to me by one who was there, and though it is part of a tale that is not Sonea’s, it does shed light on what happened next to Banakar. And this most definitely did have a bearing on that which was to come for Sonea. Ye see, it fits in right here, so here it must be. And the words that were spoken be the words I will give thee, and the voice is the voice that was there and not mine.�


And it was said:

On a day when the wind whispered an Ancient name, the draku clutch mothers took themselves away to the mountains to wait...

The mountains waited. Now, rocks are patient. They know well the art of waiting. And what are mountains but greater rocks? In the deep and high places where the earth meets the sky, there are places where the rock’s blood is bared to collect in bubbling pools. And the primal flows of fire and earth and sky dance in conflict and harmony.

And these places are not known to those who are not draku, not even the dwarf-kin who claim rock as their mystery and the mountains as their place. But draku know. And draku too are patient.

And indeed, on a day the wind did whisper a name long forgotten and lost, save to those with eyes to see the wind and know its words. And so the clutch mothers answered the call. Long and long the mothers walked, and walk they must. For their trek did not permit the passage of wing.

And the walk was itself a part of the thing they were and the thing they did, that each would not lose the place from which she came. And each would not forget the one whom they had long ago left behind to guard, but soon would greet anew. And they came to a secret place and a high place and a pool where the rock blood waited. And the mothers took stance about it, and they waited. And the air was cold and the rock burned and the sky… the sky waited also. It waited for the one who had passed to return.

Each gazed deep into the pool, and each seemed to be part of a greater whole that took stance, and each was at the self same time a universe unto herself that could not be sundered. And… they stood, silent and unmoving.


And after a time, from one, then another, at what seemed the whim of a vagrant wind or the chance of rolling dice, one, or another, would not be silent. And a rumble would come from deep in that one, or mayhap it seemed deep in the earth, or from the sky as distant thunder. But in truth it came from one of those clutch mothers met there.

As time passed, the deep sounds came more often, and one would meet another. And as more time passed they came closer and more, till there was but a single voice and a single sound and it came from sky and ground and the clutch mothers all. And as the sound grew, it sprang echoes and ripples in the pool of rock blood, and the blood moved and danced and seemed to have almost a life of its very own.

And from that life, from the rock blood itself there came… a claw. And that claw did come and with it came a wingtip and a tail… and a youngling drake struggled forth from the rock blood and stood. And the dawn light came and the dawn light burned bright in both its eyes, and though the youngling did stand new formed, those eyes were old and, it seemed, tired. And it looked at those that stood before it, and a single tear formed in one eye, then rolled down its muzzle and fell to the rock.

One of the clutch mothers spoke.

The Oathbound Stone be two in one. The Oathbound Stone will ever come. Till Five shall Feast and Truth be spoken, till one is two and Oath be broken.

And as she finished speaking, she started again. And as she spoke, another joined the words. And as they two finished, they started again and another joined. And this was so, till all who were there did cast the words, though whether to the youngling that stood or to the waiting sky or the mountain itself, there was no knowing.

And the youngling waited. As though it knew a thing was yet undone. And then the sky screamed.

And the scream was a scream of power and of hate and of doom. And a grown and mighty drakonel did come hurtling from the sky and she did take the youngling in her claws and did rise up without any ceasing. And wings beat and the sky was split and the drakonel was gone.

But that which passes to the sky may not stay. And in time all things from there will pass to the rock, and these are the words of those who have knowing. And thus it was. For from the sky came a tumbling form, and that form was broken and battered, and that form fell and the rock waited. And this time to the rock indeed. And the youngling fell, and the rock waited and they kissed.

The drakonel came back on slower wings, and she took stance on a high rock. And she spoke, and her voice was mocking.

It fell. It was judged. And now it be truly fallen. Shall we dance, ye who call yourself mothers, or shall we count this matter done?

And she looked about, and not a one who was there did speak and not a one did move. And the drakonel spoke again.

It be as I thought. Ye be wise to know thy limits. Know that Serilian is pleased.

And in a wingbeat, the drakonel was gone. And when she was gone, one who was there did speak. And her words were old and tired.


So. The Long Road is done and at last the Clan takes victory. It was but words…

And another who was there, it seemed the oldest, did laugh.

Words? But words? There is nothing of more power than those very words…

And the old mother did step forward, and she did come to the youngling. And she looked down at the broken one.

Is the long wind traveled, Oathbound? Is she to be cast to the skies and thy pain and thy binding gone? All that need be done is… nothing. Is the long wind done, Nithing?

And the old eyes looked to her. And even as the blood wept from its breaking and the rock drank it, in a voice old and older it spoke. And with each word the voice grew fainter.

Choices. At the end…at the end…choices be all there be. And the choices… the… the choices… at the end, all the choices be one choice. And the one choice be no choice at all. But to choose or not to choose that no-choice…

We danced the winds, my lady and I… We danced and then I fell… and she was no more. And if I follow her, then no more will I be. And the Oath will be done. For she hid, but her hiding will be gone. And the Clan knew this not, but it will serve them. And so I will be truly fallen.

But they burned her, do ye see… they burned her and then… the talon… that was not… was not… THEY BURNED HER!

And of a sudden, the old voice was strong, and it was whole. And it was cold and hard as the rocks themselves. And again it spoke.

The wind is not yet traveled. I follow my lady, who is no more. And Five will Feast, and Five will fear that Feasting… There are no choices. I CHOOSE IT SO.

And the voice was silent. And again the oldest one laughed.

Pleased ye be, Serilian? A storm comes, Stone thing. And it will break thee. For there is a new wind, and it be a thing of tempest, and in it the Thunder and the Lightning will walk. And rock and stone and wind and sky will break before them…

And the eldest turned to the other clutch mothers and spoke a final time.

The Oathbound Stone be two in one. The Oathbound Stone will ever come. Till Five shall Feast and Truth be spoken, till one is two and Oath be broken.

And then the eldest took the youngling, and she cast it to the rock blood, and the blood boiled and the youngling burned… and it was gone. And the clutch mothers… the clutch mothers were gone also, back to whence they came. And the mountain and the sky and the rock and the lands… waited.


“And those were the words that were given to me. And by whom? The tale knows… and that is as it must be.

Now if ye do recall, the main thrust of being Gifted is the miracle .. or the magery of rebirth…�

It was a lovely cloudless day. The sun shone brightly and birds sat in the trees trilling sweet songs of joy. Of a sudden, there came a shimmer to the air. And a flash of light startled the singing birds to silence. As they peered down from their perches, they saw that a hatchling had tumbled out of thin air to land on all fours in the middle of the path.

Now, at first this hatchling appeared to be neither more nor less remarkable than any other who had entered the land before it. But if one looked closely one might notice that its blue scales were bespeckled. And when the sun shone on them just so, they sparkled as if they were beset with amethysts. And it had old eyes, as if they had lived many lifetimes and seen much.

Now draku gender is a complex thing. For an explanation in some detail, ye might want to listen to the tale, “The Making of the Stone�. But the nut of it is that some drakes have a primary balance to the male, whilst others to female, and some do sit atop the fence and are neither. For convenience, let us say this hatchling was male.

The hatchling looked around in wonder. And for a time he stood listening to the birds that had tired of the distraction and had lifted their voices once more in song. Then slowly, pace by pace he started down the Long Road. After each few steps, he paused for a moment, almost as if expecting something to jump out from behind a bush and attack.

When nothing did appear after the first several minutes, he gained a dose of courage and began walking the road with more confidence. At one point the hatchling reached a place in the road, no different from any other, save a hillock off to the side. He stopped, and then he turned completely about, making sure none were there to see. Satisfied that he was alone, the hatchling stepped away from the road and cautiously walked to the base of the hill.

Ye see, something called to the hatchling, as surely as if he had heard his name, to come to an opening that was carved into the hill’s side. In answer to the call, the hatchling did quietly creep in. Inside was cool and dry, yet very dark. As the hatchling’s eyes adjusted, he could see the dim outline of a tunnel leading inward. And so inward he went.

A few paces further and around a corner the tunnel opened into a small cave. A spear of light shone in from an opening high up, illuminating the very center. And the room.. it was not empty. The hatchling gazed upon a stone bier, and he saw an one laying upon it, still as death. And the light shone down upon golden hair and fair skin.

Solemnly, the hatchling approached the bier. And he gazed upon the one sleeping there and then he sucked in a startled breath. This one he knew! The hatchling stood as if frozen in time. And as he gazed upon she who slept, a resolve began to grow within him.

There would be pain, for what the hatchling contemplated would cause his Oath to rise. And the Oath was a harsh mistress. But seeing the one who slept, the hatchling knew that this time, this waking of all the others he had walked, would be different. Quickly, so he might act ere the Oath made it impossible, the hatchling removed a thing from around his neck and laid it on the bier next to the sleeper. As the thing was placed upon the bier, the cave flared bright as of the storm fire and the walls shook as of the sky voice in tempest.

Then as the hatchling had full known it would, the Oath caught wind of this defiance and began to exact its payment of pain. The hatchling turned and fled.

Running down the path, lungs heaving from exertion and teeth grinding as he rode the wave of the Oath’s anger, the hatchling saw that he was nearing the end of this journey’s beginning. He gathered himself together and strode over a final rise and came to a shrine, though he didn’t know that was what it was at the time. As he neared, a disembodied voice called out and told him to bind himself to the stone. And then it explained how this was done. A moment more and the hatchling was bound to Istaria.

And so, it seems the hatchling was one of the Gifted. Not knowing for sure what this meant, he took it at face value for the moment and trekked onward to where one waited to greet all newcomers. Now this one, Lord Ryson Stormbringer, did greet the young drake, and he imparted all manner of lore about the great land of Istaria and how best to survive in it.

And then Lord Stormbringer spoke these parting words as he directed the youngling toward caves of war and craft training, “You are close to the discovery of your true destiny, Bound One. Well, there is the fact that you just recently died again, but really, that is such a minor point now compared to what lies in front of you! No Stone dance raised ye this time. It was another wind, and it bids ye follow. From here, your destiny is in your hands. You have the power to make of it what you will. May Istaria’s hands shelter you in these trying times.�

And Sephiranoth walked forth to meet his destiny.


And then there was Sonea…

Sonea's spirit slept long. But a day finally came when she woke. Not as one wakes from a sleep. But of a sudden, Sonea was awake. And with her waking came full memory of all the things she had forgotten. She remembered her mother's abuse. She remembered her time of madness. She remembered as though she had been an adult observing it.

She remembered the night meeting of the Helian and the wicked Clan drake. As if it had its own will, Sonea’s hand clutched at the neck of her tunic. She fumbled for the mithril chain that held the dragon-moon charm. But her hand came away empty. And then she remembered.. Banakar. And she wondered if the drake had ever been set free.

Sonea felt the cold of stone working its way through her thin clothing. So she sat up, and then she peered around. How in the world did she get here.. inside a cave of all places? There she sat for some time, collecting her wits. A ray of light shining down from above slowly crept across the stone on which she had lain. And as it moved, the sun’s light caught on something, causing a silvery moon glow.

Sonea reached down beside her and took up in her hand the thing that had caused the glimmer. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes blurred as she saw that she held a mithril chain. And on that chain were four small charms, and the largest of these was a filigree drake, wings spread in flight over the background of a full moon. As she took it up, there came a rumbling in the distance and a burst of white flashed from that which she held, and it stung her hand. Even so, not for a moment did her fingers let loose from their treasure.

Tears formed fully and coursed down Sonea’s cheeks as she realized that there was only one who could have put it there. Carefully Sonea set the chain about her neck and tucked the charms inside her tunic. And then she slid her legs over the side of the bier and lowered herself to the cave floor.

With naught to her name but the thin flaxen clothes on her back and an equally thin pair of shoes, Sonea walked from the place of rebirth, finding her way to the tunnel and eventually to the warmth of the sunshine outside. As the sun warmed her face, she in turn spread her arms wide and spun in a circle, surveying the land in which she found herself.

When Sonea saw the lovely green of the grass and trees, and she heard the delightful song of the birds, she did her own part to brighten the Istarian day. Her eyes sparkled and she smiled a Soni smile. For a moment, the land was a more beautiful place. And then she spied the path.

And so, not long after a young drake had set foot to it, Sonea also set forth on the Long Road. And as she walked, she pondered… The one whom she had thought to be lost forever.. must be here.. somewhere.

Ere long Sonea came to the binding stone, and in much the same way as Sephiranoth had done, she also bound herself to it. And then on she went to chat with Lord Stormbringer. Eventually she, too, was admonished to make the most of her destiny.

And then finally, Stormbringer pointed to his right and advised Sonea to visit the Halls of Crafting and War. And he suggested that she select a trade or a war school, or one of each, as both were worthy professions. Sonea stood for but a moment ere heading directly to the Craft Hall.

Ye see, mining and jewelry crafting were still fresh in her mind, and so.. she traversed the Craft Hall, examining the Blacksmith, Outfitter, and Scholar schools. She finally settled on the Outfitter trade. Once her craft schooling was arranged and the trainer had gifted her with a pack of tools that might be of use to a new Outfitter, she paused to consider a visit to the Hall of War.

Sonea's memory was whole now, though she might wish of a time it were not so. Her father had walked the Warrior’s Road long and longer, and not all the beasts that hunted him were easily recognized. The thought made her close to ill, but there would be blood and rending, even for one as she who had foresworn the warrior's path. It were better were the blood not hers and the rended flesh the same. Thus and so. The Hall of War awaited. She stepped the few paces to it.

Within the Hall the war trainers waited. Many they had seen and many they would see, and for them the decision Sonea would make had little of import. For her? Woe or weal, it must be made... The weapons racks waited. She stood and pondered.

She remembered watching her father practice tirelessly with the blade. She had not trained with the sword as she had with the staff, but then Sonea had walked the healer's road. The pattern of her father's sword training was a thing she knew, at least. She had used the staff... her breath caught as a painful memory assailed her. Aye... she had indeed used the staff...

Perhaps it would be better to take up a thing that had not served her so. Sonea looked about. A rack of blades was near. Striding forth, she took up a sword. As her hand touched the hilt, the world tilted...

Sonea's throat was raw and her head rang as if from a blow. A red haze seemed to lift from her and she remembered rage. Rage and... a woman. A woman with hands held forward as she pleaded, cried and spoke of vile magery. But Sonea, she… No, not she... HE! He had not listened.

The rage had owned her. Sonea shook her head to clear it.…owned him... Owned her entire... and she remembered... She moaned, ‘Noooo!’ The woman lay fallen and broken. And a head... a head cut clean from the corpse... cut clean and the tears yet wet upon its cheeks...

Slowly, Sonea raised her eyes and looked about, pale with remembered fear. There was no corpse. No head. No tears. None save those that washed her own cheeks. And Sonea knew, in a way she had never known, that she was indeed her father's daughter.

She felt the smooth wall of the Hall at her back. In front of her, the weapon rack that had held the blades was hacked and broken, the wall near her scarred and battered by... by what? A broken blade was on the floor some feet before her. The Sword trainer stood a good distance away, his own blade at guard and a look of mixed sorrow and anger on his face.

"The blade is not for thee, Sonea. There may be a blade for thee, but if there is, it waits in a dead hand. I know not if ye will ever take that road, but if ye do... Seek the Zealot and only that blade. Take no sword ere ye find it, else the Foe will be stronger for thine arm. Now walk away, Gifted. If ye take another blade I may have to kill thee for a time."

Confused and frightened, but even yet battling the rage she could neither bear nor yet comprehend, Sonea braced herself and backed away from the blade master. No blade? Then let it be so. The blade had no purpose after all save to kill.

Across the Hall she saw a cabinet, its door ajar. Within were staves, some of wood, some shod with metal. And though she recalled with sorrow her prior use of it, a stave could be companion for the road as well as guardian to life and limb. With no thought for the fallen blade and with the memory of the red haze and her mother's bleeding head already fading, she strode over to the cabinet.


Throwing wide the doors, she looked over that which lay within. Reaching, she took a staff of wood, with a firm and solid iron foot to greet the road, and a small ball of iron at the tip to greet the head of any that troubled her. As it met her hand...

The floor was cold. The tears still streamed down Sonea's cheeks and her hand bled from the grip she yet held about the staff. About her she smelled the green smell of the forest, but mixed with it was the red smell of blood. An unbearable sadness gripped her heart and the hand that did not hold the staff reached for... she knew not. A thing lost, a thing taken, a thing... no. Not a thing. A person. A kind spirited old one she had harmed... Sonea fled the Hall, staff clattering to the floor behind her.

Outside, Sonea ran and ran, her feet unknowing and uncaring of their destination. Let the Foe find her, let her Gift be taken... she should never have been woken. She had done vile things... she had... Sonea ran.

But feet have their limits, and lungs also, even for the Gifted. And after a time, her feet slowed. And as they slowed, she saw a thing. And the thing was a blow to her heart and spirit both. For before her... was the Hall of War. And as she turned to run again, to run forever if she must, she felt a hand upon her shoulder. But when she turned, she found none there.

Somehow... she knew she was not alone. And to one side of her a rock, large and looming. The massive shape reminded her of one she had known as a child – silent, solid and reliable, unswerving in resolve or strength. And behind her, though she could not see it, she felt... age. And wisdom. And a compassion beyond measure.

Now, the rock said no words. Which is no surprise, for rocks have that habit. And there was none behind her, however she spun. Naytheless, the rock spoke to her spirit. And it said, that which must be endured, she would endure. And that which must be broken she would break, but much more she would make and more she would mend. And ever the rock would be there.

And the presence behind her said no word either, but it also spoke. And it said to her heart that to make no ill is to make… nothing. And naught of ill may be mended, nor yet healed, if it first not be marred. And it reminded her that she had not suffered alone.

Ahead of her she seemed to see a large creature not there, and scales it wore and they were blue. And the sky rolled with thunder and the air before her blazed as the lightning struck the ground but feet from where she stood. Sonea was tossed into the air and then she fell, and she slept…

Sonea woke. And she was alone. And still the Hall of War waited.

Sonea crawled to a nearby tree and sat, propping her back against its trunk, knees drawn up to her chest, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. Rubbing her bruised head, she pondered. So and thus. If a thing she knew was marred from her knowing, and if the nearness of... of death... was her undoing, then what of things she knew not? And what of death kept far? For it seemed there were lessons she must learn, that old ones took on new faces... and learning thus was no enemy of hers.

Finally, Sonea stood. And she took herself to the Hall of War. Upon entering, she sighed with relief, for someone had cleared the debris. The ruined weapon rack had been replaced and the training swords were neatly lined up in the new one. She winced at the scars on the wall that could not be so easily removed. She walked further in and saw that the door to the staff cabinet was closed. No sign of the wooden staff, or the blood, remained.


And even farther she went, to the dark back, where stood another trainer, whip thin and lacking the armor of others. Beside him were bows and crossbows and arrows and quarrels and bolts. As Sonea approached, he looked up. And a smile crossed his face, but one with a hint of sadness.

"So you'll be Sonea then. They told me you would come..."

Sonea looked at him, puzzled.

"They? Which they do ye speak of?"

"Why, your friends. The man mountain and the old one, the priest. They said ye would come. Oh, and a message they left. Strange it was, but that be no strange thing here... what was it now? Oh, yes. Tell her, they said:

'When the rain falls there is shelter. When the sun burns, there is shade. It awaits those who seek it. And when the Long Road is done, when thy Gift is done with thee... there is a place that waits. And we wait also, and we will talk, we three. Of many things... and not of tears will those words be, but of joy. Now, ere the sun may shine, the storm must break and those things it must break be broken. If Thunder speaks, then Lightning must indeed be near. And if Lightning burns, then Thunder will smite close by. Let it be so, Sonea. It will be as it must, and the ill that was made will become whole...'

“Well…� the Scout master continued, “The old one said that. The man mountain? Few words he had for ye... but these few he did speak:

'Pretty bird,’ he said. ‘But it never flew... Tell Soni... I would see the bird fly...'

And Terania, the Scout Master waited, one eye cocked in query. And Sonea reached for a bow, and it fitted her hand. And of a time... she left the Hall.

Sonea wandered the grounds of the training place, thinking on all that she had just experienced. As she walked and considered, her thoughts kept returning to the blue scaled one, and the thunder and lightning. She absently clutched the dragon moon charm at her neck, fingers gently brushing the drake and tracing the outline of the moon. Finally, with a sigh, she decided that she was ready to move on.

Now here is an interesting thing. It was at this time that Sonea took unto herself the surname Finder. Now, ye might think that she took the name Finder for its association with how a Scout might track and seek.. and find that which is lost or hidden.

Yes, Sonea did have this in mind. She knew that every day, no matter what else she might be occupied with doing, Sonea would also be seeking the one who had returned her charm necklace. And so, she became .. Sonea Finder.

Now, armed with a shiny new training bow, Sonea slung her pack of Outfitting tools onto her back, and she took one last look around. She spied the building that must be passed through in order to reach the travel gate, the very one that Stormbringer had said would take her from this place of beginning and send her on the road towards her destiny.


Sonea was not alone, for one entered the building ahead of her. She saw a blue tail disappear into the gloom and a memory tugged at her. That color.. no, it couldn’t be. Banakar had been a full grown drake, and this one, whose color so resembled Banakar’s, was but a hatchling. Nonetheless, Soni wanted a closer look at the one who had stirred the memory.

Now it seems that the place of beginning was located at the top of a tall bluff, and the building was the means by which one could go from the top down to the travel gate at the bluff’s base. And so, Sonea entered the building and she faced a stairwell of sorts. Instead of steps, there were ramps placed around the building’s four walls, leading downward from floor to floor.

Down and down and down Sonea ran until she reached the ground floor. But naught of the blue hatchling did she see. Those of you who are Gifted will surely remember that this last building was not empty. There was an one standing near the exit. Sonea skidded to a halt in front of him, panting as she tried to catch her breath.

“Quick! Tell me!� she gasped, “A hatchling.. which way did it go?!� And Jeremiah Trueheart, for that is who Sonea spoke to with such haste and lack of manners, did point to an open doorway. Sonea dashed outside hoping she was not too late to catch the hatchling before it left the place of beginning.

She drew up short, eyes going wide in wonder as she spied the travel gate.. the portal into Istaria. It was huge.. a circular metal frame, turned on its edge, hanging suspended in the air. Three stone steps led up to it. And in the center, a swirl of dazzling blue color.

Beautiful it was with its mesmerizing center, promising to lead to some delightful place if the traveler would but gather her courage and step inside. Sonea was not tempted. She cast about for the one whom she had seen enter the building ahead of her. But the portal was the only blue thing to be seen. The hatchling must have already gone through and traveled to who knew where.

Dejected, Sonea hung her head, and then she turned on her heal and returned to where Ser Trueheart waited patiently. Summoning the ghost of a smile, she looked up at Trueheart and offered profound apologies for her ill manners. And then she asked if there was aught that she should know ere leaving the place of beginning.

Now, it turns out that Trueheart was a generous sort, or perhaps he was delighted by her smile, slim though it was. He forgave Sonea’s behavior and did offer her an opportunity to get a head start in her new life.

If Sonea would but deliver a Letter of Acknowledgement to the Steward of whichever starting island she ventured to through the portal, in return she would receive a handful of coppers. Since her pockets were empty, Soni thought this was a mighty fine opportunity indeed. And so she tucked the proffered letter into her pack along side her tools and back to the portal she went.

This time she ascended the steps and with some hesitation reached out to touch the liquid-looking blue. It was as a wall, solid to the touch. Sonea nearly jumped out of her skin when, as her hand met the blue, a voice spoke. It named four islands and asked which she wished to travel to.

Now Sonea was faced with a decision.. where to go? Since there was no way to tell which island the hatchling had chosen, one choice seemed as good as another. She selected the Island of New Brommel and, holding her breath in anticipation.. for this was truly an exciting thing that she did.. Sonea closed her eyes and stepped into the portal.

The world went away…


“And thus did Sonea come into the lands. Not the Sonea that was first born, nay, nor second time made. But Sonea still, and no less and no more. Other names she will bear. Fair One. Lightning. But for now, Sonea Finder she is. And for this tide, my telling is done. For the Tale lives and the Tale dreams… and what are we if not the Tale’s dreaming?�

And TaleSpinner turned, and she faced the wall behind it. And the wall began to glow and spin, and the light spun about the dragon. And the wall grew brighter, and dragon was lost in the glare. And then… the glow faded. And when those who were there saw clear, TaleSpinner was gone. And in the center of the wall behind where she had stood, there was a blue circle, and the blue of a portal stone danced and swirled.

And for now… the Tale was silent. But tomorrow? Tomorrow would take care of itself. And smiling to herself, remembering as even the TaleSpinner could not, Sonea took herself away from the Hall. And she took her to a portal stone and she went to a place she remembered. And she walked a ways, and found herself on a little spit of land above sand, and the sea rolled before her.

As she knew he would be, another waited there. The sun’s light reflected the sea spray that coated his sapphire scales, making little rainbows that danced and sparkled. As she neared, he sighed contentedly, and a warm, steamy breath of primal enclosed her in its comforting embrace.

“Thus and so. The Storm is born, and they will know. The dance begins…�

“Aye. For them, Sephi. But we have been dancing long and long, have we not?�

“Aye, indeed Fair One. Long and longer, and not a moment one I would have spent in any other wise. But for now… the waves dance for us. We sat here once before, do ye remember, cariad?�

“Remember? How could I not? For it seems we never left. Here we are… Will we ever leave?�

“Leave? How so? For we are here and it is us. And I find no ill in that… What say ye?�

“I say… I say the sun is bright, the air is sweet and… and the waves dance. And if others smell the air and taste a Storm coming… then a Storm will come indeed. And the Thunder will walk and the Lightning burn… but not today. Today… today the waves are enough.�

And indeed it was so.

EPILOGUE

Sonea Finder, little cinder,
cast upon the storm.
Burned by fire and crossed death’s pyre,
ever-now reborn.

Sonea Finder, mother broke her,
silenced by the stone.
Staff-found voice and new-found healer,
Blood will paint her dawn.

Sonea Finder, blood lust on her,
Father buried long.
Shield-heart lost at teacher’s cost,
Mind-mazed and alone.

Sonea Finder, unmade maker
Song that waits the tune
Dragon bound her, dragon found her
Wings across the moon

Sonea Finder, old and younger
Finds her path again
Birth-price dear, paid by another
Sorrow knows her name

Sonea Finder, crafted crafter
Dwarf-wise wisdom gained
Bright the path that lies before her
Fire marks the way

Sonea Finder, talon took her
Paid another’s pain
Lost a father, called it brother
Lightning seeks the chain

Sonea Finder, little cinder,
cast upon the storm.
Burned by fire and crossed death’s pyre,
ever-now reborn.