To say it was hot was to say that draku were some small partial to hoard.
Or at least, that was Sonea’s thought as the sun burned from a sky of purer blue than any gem. But, or so she pondered, there were advantages to draku. Or to one at least, to the one she knew best and was the part of her spirit with wings. And new ones she found at most surprising times… like this!
The cove was one far from any that most knew. And the arching shadow of a wing over her could drop most swift if any came near, not that any would. And that wing could cover… anything that needed cover. And more… for that same wing was set edge-on to the cool mountain stream that fell from the rocks above. And the water met the wing... and a more pleasing spray to set the sun’s fire aside she knew not.
“ Sephie… my back?�
Wings that could slice the wind and guide it to the bearer’s will were no less at home with water. A tiny bone slipped and bent… a small part of the wing dipped… and a fine mist sprayed along her spine.
It occurred to Sonea that her companion had been silent for longer than was his habit. And she looked up at the towering Ancient, and she saw his eyes set far to the horizon, unblinking. And his jaw was… while not far from his common grin at some joke it seemed none knew save he, twitching at the corner. And a soft grating came to her ears, and Soni knew that noise well.
“ Allright, Sephie. What is it? Ye grind thy teeth again, and that means ye be thinking. And life gets all sorts of interesting when ye think! So tell me… what maze do ye wander?�
A gentle rumble came from deep in the dragon, sending strange but pleasant shivers through her where she leant against him.
“ Hrrrm. Too well ye know me it might seem, cariad. Too well were it any other… but not when it is ye.�
A chuckle was in his voice.
“ It be the lost ones. Ye know the tale? Those of the land called… what was it now? Ah, yes. Unity. The winds whisper, do ye see, and they whisper of gods, of lost ones.. and new gates opening. For the lost ones, it seems, may be found!
“ Now, and this ye know... Gods... pfah. with those of this land, I have my own… our own… matters of issue. And gods… well, they are but gods, and no great thing for all that. But the Trialos… the ones of Virtrium… now those be a different flame to watch. And it seems they have more care than most any for the lost ones and would have them born again. And that is my pondering…�
“ Born again? Why that is wonderous… I had heard of such, but I knew not how far it was made whole…�
“ Oh, the winds speak of mageries and trials and gates cracked open... but that be the thing! Cracked open, aye… but to where?�
“ Why, Sephie, to here of course. To Istari…� as she spoke, Sonea of a sudden knew the maze Sephie’s thought wandered. And for a time, two sets of eyes lost them on the far horizon. And had any been there, they would have known a thing Soni would have denied as vehemently as she did when Sephie told her she snored… for her jaw too ground tooth to tooth.
“ They are fine folks of Chaos… aye, fine indeed. And I would be the first to stand to any that spoke else. But… but so many sleep of Order. Would it not be joy did the lost ones, or as many as may be, came among us, Sephie?�
“ Aye. Joy indeed. Oh, they walk among us already, in small part. Not always known... but the winds speak to me of a time. And I think those here find it a place of some joy. But more… oh to have more would be delight!
And this I have thought. Those of Chaos number more than we of Order. And that, in some ways, is an ill thing. But… heh… but it may work to our favour in this. For, do ye see, it means that when the Empire moves to take back the lands left fallow by those passed… there will be more here for the lost to gather! Not only more, but likely more set where friend may stand to friend’s demesne…�
“ Aye! Aye! And still and all, we have those of craft and the like, and I have walked the market as ye, and there is delight to aid those new among us! And were more among us, then those times the market be sound only to the chirped crickets be less. And… and… we have mighty places of making made, to aid those that wake in their deeds and craft. And yes, this is a land for those that seek to bury their spirits in Istari nature, but those who walk here as they walk the land called Real do not find us un-friend or lack welcome. Oh, Sephie, were it only so!�
“ Oh indeed. And if is there be less of us here… then there be less contending for the things both makers and warriors need. Travertine to dig, or iron. Blue Vexators to rend for fringes or Mithril walker wrack for making armour.
Thus and so, Lightning. But of a time, that which one would have be is best left to birth in its own manner… and of other times, it is mayhap better to… heh… blow gently to the candle flame, that it dances as ye would have it dance… what think ye of this birthing?�
“ I? Well, this I say. Of a time, the winds whisper to us. Mayhap this be a time to whisper to those winds... or nay, to shout! For if we have lost old friends to sleep, then to find others from waking would be delight indeed. And if we have more new friends, why then those old may also hear whispered winds, and those winds may disturb their own sleep!�
To say it was hot was to say that draku were some small partial to hoard. But for the two by the shore… more than sun burned before them, and more than dawn was the bright hope in their eyes.
Sephiranoth, called by some ShadowSeeker, draku of Order
Nobdy and Nothing ever, save the Five do Feast
Sonea Finder, warrior, maker and beloved of Order ( though she might flush and stammer at being spoken so )