Wysper - The Dragon's Dream

Dreams often show us what the conscious mind refuses to face, and my dreams are no different.

In my dream, I am standing upon a hill not far from Ebora Castle, the night blazing with strange stars in constellations never seen over the lands of Britannia, or any other land I have ever traveled through. Upon this hill is a massive oak tree with stout branches, reaching up towards those strange stars.

And ropes with fourteen bodies hanging down. There were fifteen men who rode out to meet with the Gauls; I swore to all that I saw only fourteen, and now Little Boots is on his way northward to betroth a Pictish princess, while the others were condemned to die. It was not by my testimony alone, for Lady Morgana had built up a strong case, and both the druids and the other clan chiefs backed us up with little observations of their own.

The confessions quickly followed. Perhaps the squires thought I would spare them, on account of their youth, and Cormac's personal guards on account of selling out their lord. I considered giving them mercy. Yet, in the end, it was as Ghostdog told me, right before he left on errands of his own: a man's treason means that man can never be trusted again. So I gave the order and stood with the clan chiefs as each man thrashed at the end of a rope. Everyone told me I had done the right thing; I believe them, and I know that even if I was forced to relive this past week, I would not change a thing.

Yet my dreams still bring me here. As they gently swing from the branches, all fourteen watch me with open eyes, Cormac in rage while Bleddyn stares in sadness. The expressions of the rest tell me they think I am to blame, yet also know they are not blameless themselves, as a woman's voice beside me says, "There are times when a khan must be without pity." I nod at Yasataar's words without looking away from the tree. She adds, "How did the clan chiefs take your solution for adopting an heir?"

I smile, turning to face her. "Uncle Morgan told me that, a year ago, the clan chiefs would have thrown a fit over having a ruler with Pictish blood. But now, with the Gaulish armies moving towards us again, they jumped at the chance to strengthen our ties with them." I chuckle. "Lord Roderic of the Cortani told me he would bed Asena the Wolf-mother herself if it meant getting more allies."

My smile fades as I think of her and Attila, and Yasataar says, "The Grey Wargs will come."

"They are not where they are supposed to be. My scouts are searching for Attila's army and I am as well, using the ghost-glass, but none of us can find them."

"The Horde clans have always been masters of concealment, and with woods as dense as the ones here, I would be surprised if anyone could find them." She gives me a knowing look. "Including the Gauls."

I cannot help but sigh. "Yasataar, there have already been skirmishes with their scouting parties, and my own scouts tell me the vanguard will be here within a fortnight." I raise my chin in defiance. "I will not run to the hills, as my advisers want me to do. This is where we will make our stand... and yet," my defiance beginning to crumble, "I know if Attila does not reach us soon, I will be forced to use the power of the ghost-glass." I sigh again. "Even though it will destroy a lot of them, along with me, I am fearful it will not be enough and my sacrifice will have been in vain."

Yasataar's face remains inscrutable. "You will make the right decision when the time comes, even if that decision is to follow your adviser's counsel. Now, come with me. We are going to walk into a dragon's dream."

I give her a puzzled look. "A dragon's dream? What are you talking about?"

"When the Celestials came here and the Prince's war began," she replies, "why did they ban human shaman from walking the dream?"

I shrug. "I was told the Celestials did not understand dream-walking and were afraid of it."

Yasataar gives me a sly smile. "The Celestials who came here understood exactly what walking the dream meant, for their Celestial dragons used it to contact others of their kind and speak to them, mind to mind. They also used it to draw lesser Celestials into their dream in the same way I can draw you into mine." Her smile widens. "However, you are right: the Celestials were rightly afraid of human dream-walkers... for we can enter the dragon's dream without any of them even knowing we are there."

My eyes grow wide. "We can? Wait, does that mean there is a Celestial dragon here?"

She nods. "One of them traveled from the Celestial Kingdom to the plateau known as the 'Roof of the World', and is summoning all the Celestials... at least, those who are asleep, to share his dream." Yasataar holds out her hand as she grins. "I think you and I should join them." I smile back, feeling wicked as I clasp her hand with my own. The dream changes...

Yasataar and I now stand upon a great open area with darkness all around us, stars blazing across the night sky. Overhead, a strange, bloated moon the color of blood is bathing everything in its crimson glow. In front of us are dozens of people milling around a creature so enormous, that my mind is having trouble comprehending its size. In form, it resembles a snake, but its triangular head possesses vaguely mannish features, making it seem wise somehow, and less threatening. In the moonlight, its scales appear reddish-gold.

Staring up wide-eyed at the creature, I put my hand to my mouth to keep from gasping as Yasataar lets me go. "None of them can hear you, or even feel your touch, though we can do both." She points at a familiar figure. "Put your hands on Greywolf's back and see." I take a step towards him...

And find myself less than an arms-length away. Greywolf is dressed in the underclothes he went to bed with, leaving his chest bare, and I reach out to run my finger lightly against his skin. Then press down when he does not respond. Yasataar, now standing beside me, chuckles as she motions out at the rest.

Most of them are either nude, or in bed clothes, though Asena is wearing the armor she rarely takes off. None of them seem the least bit embarrassed as the monstrous snake looks down on them with glowing eyes like golden gems. "For those of you born before the Great War," he says in a deep voice, "my name is Dragon-lord Tholthac, commander of the Homeworld Defense Corps for the Celestial Kingdom. I have summoned you here tonight so you can hear my message, and will release you from my dream once we are done."

A male voice calls out, "So, why are we here?"

The great head swings in the voice's direction. "To give all of you a chance for redemption. The Celestial Kingdom is closing itself off from the Shadowlands forever, and I am here to give all of you, regardless of what you did or did not do upon this world, a chance to come home. However, once I leave with those who decide to join me, the way will be closed behind us."

A buzz of low-voiced comments begins as Lord Osiris, who is nude, bows to the dragon. "Tholthac, my old friend, I have missed you, and hope we can catch up soon. However, your words are troubling."

The dragon chuckles. "Dear Osiris, I have missed you as well. You are troubled, because none of us have the power to affect the Shadowlands, let alone close them off." Lord Osiris inclines his head, and the dragon says, "Did you not tell me it is right to learn from everyone, even if they are an enemy?"

"Several times, if my memories remain sound."

"They do, and I listened to your wisdom. As the Daemo Princes built fortresses around each weak spot between their world and the Grey, during the war, so we have built fortresses of our own. Each is manned by intelligent machines of war, whose only mission is to continually guard those weak areas, and destroy any creature foolish enough to try and break through our defenses." There is a collective gasp as the dragon nods. "Only one entrance to the Celestial Kingdom remains. Once I have returned to the capitol with any of the 'Remnants', as all of you are now called, the passage through the last fortress will be sealed and the machines of war activated." The dragon pauses. "This is your last chance to return."

Asena roars up at him, "Right, but only if you're willing to kiss the Celestial Council's rosy cheeked arse." She looks around at the others. "I've been back, and they consider us to be scum because we wouldn't betray the humans and the other races left behind." She glares back up at the dragon's face. "Well, you can count me out. Take your offer and shove it down the privy, where it belongs, because I've got better things to do than abandon the people I love."

The dragon chuckles as he shakes his head. "The Celestial Council chambers would have been a far more lively place had you accepted our initial offer." Asena blinks, a confused expression stealing over her face as he says, "If by some miracle you change your mind, the offer remains open."

Asena is already shaking her head. "I gave my word of honor to Attila and the Grey Warg Khanate that I'd fight alongside them until I died, and that's what I'm going to do. I don't break my word for anyone."

"Nor do I," a male voice calls out. The speaker wears only trousers, his bare chest covered in angry scars. There is a gaping hole where one of his eyes used to be. "I promised my warriors their pick of the Britannic women as slaves, and new lands they can settle on. We're within striking distance of making that happen, so why would I give it up, and for what? Peace?" He spits in the dragon's direction. "I'll eventually die on this miserable piece of rock, but not until I've taken their queen as a slave of my own."

Greywolf moves a couple steps away from me. "I'll kill you first."

Balor, for this has to be Balor One-eye, laughs. "Greywolf, I thought that had to be you. I've already given orders to have you taken prisoner, so you and the red-haired bitch can give me back the mana I need to live a while longer."

"Balor," the dragon says before Greywolf can speak, "you know not your peril. Ghostdog crafted his son with the ability to call, and eventually become, a Shadow Warg, which will grow in power the more he calls it."

Asena yells, "Wotan's blood, how do you know that?"

The dragon's head turns in her direction. "Because the council agreed to his proposal. Asena, you continued to defy us, even after we drastically increased your need for mana, so we were ready to cripple you, making it impossible for you to ever fight again." Asena's mouth drops open as the dragon gives her a knowing look. "Be grateful that Ghostdog not only loves you, but is quick on his feet. When we secretly informed him of our decision, he countered with a proposal that touched upon our deepest fear... that a group of Remnants would join with the Daemo and invade the Celestial Kingdom."

All of the Celestials look shocked... though several of them are trading guilty looks, as Asena puts her black clawed hands on her hips. "That's insane."

The dragon raises both of his eye ridges. "Is it? Earth is rapidly losing the mana it held, leaving all of you vulnerable since without mana, we die. At the moment, you are chasing down the remaining sources, including young Greywolf there, yet you know deep down it will never be enough. No, the only way for you to regain the mana you lost is to take it from us, and we cannot allow that." The dragon's head thrusts forward. "We have returned to our old ways, and do not ever wish to become what we were during the war, having to fight you."

Ishtar, who is also nude, says, "Dragon-lord Tholthac, if we set up a system of trade-"

"No!" There is a dangerous edge to the dragon's voice, and all of us take a step or two back. "It will begin with trade and end with tyranny. You will always want more than we are willing to give, especially when the Daemo become involved, and to be brutally honest... there is nothing you have that we could possibly want. No, those who return will lay down their arms, allow us to embed the devices we all now wear that prevent us from raising a hand against another in hatred, and live alongside the rest of us in peace."

A flame haired female, says, "What prevents the rest of us from doing exactly what you said you feared: banding together, gathering up the Daemo, and storming your fortresses?"

The dragon gives her a cold laugh. "Kax, you should have done that centuries ago. To overcome the defenses we have built, you would need war machines like the ones used during the great war... and you have forgotten how they were made, or even how to use them if you uncovered a cache from that time. No, while we were building our defenses, we kept all of you unbalanced, fighting your own petty wars against each other. Ghostdog was our instrument in those designs."

"What?" The flame haired woman raises a fist skyward. "Are you telling me Ghostdog betrayed us?"

"No more than he betrayed any of the others, Kax. He helped you gain control of the Sasnayams, but when Muzen grew too powerful, he helped the barbarian horde tribes bring you down." The dragon's gaze takes in all of them. "Every one of you, at one time or another, has used Ghostdog to help you with your schemes, with the Shadow-walker appearing exactly when you needed him most... and all the while, Ghostdog was keeping us informed as he asked us for advice."

Outrage sweeps across most of their faces, except for Lord Osiris, who bursts out laughing. "The marvelous irony of this. Here, I thought I was so wise, playing the long game over decades and centuries."

"While we played it over the course of the age." The dragon looks at Lord Osiris with a warm smile. "You, my friend, limited Aegyptus' ambitions, and we in turn did all we could to keep you strong."

"But no more, I assume?"

"Once the road to the Celestial Kingdom is sealed, Ghostdog will carry out our last orders: eliminate all those remaining who might become a threat, and strengthen those who will remain peaceful. Which is why, Balor," the dragon's head swinging in the one-eyed male's direction, "you should stand down from your attack on the Brittani. The Shadow Warg-"

"Will die on the edge of my blade," Balor snarls.

The large male beside him, wearing leather and chain, scratches his head. "I thought Shadow creatures couldn't exist in the real world."

"There have been times when the walls have grown so weak that Shadow creatures have broken through," the dragon says, "returning to the Shadowlands once they are destroyed. But Shadow Wargs are different. By itself, it can eventually become more powerful than any other Shadow Creature. However, if Greywolf merges with it, the two become one, feeding off his victim's life essence on our side of the Shadowlands, instead of being healed by the Grey."

Greywolf backs up into my arms, but he does not seem to notice. "Are you telling me I'd remain that way forever?"

The dragon's massive head swings in our direction. "Your father said if you returned to the Shadowlands, the Shadow Warg would leave and you would become your normal self again, able to return to the real world, though drained of strength." The dragon turns back towards Balor. "Either way, should the hybrid die on the edge of your blade, it will just return to the Grey."

Balor's expression turns thoughtful. "I like that even better. Everything in the real world costs energy, and I'm guessing that, either way it'll cost Greywolf a lot of strength to call up this creature. Which means when he loses, I win, since I doubt he's going to wander around the Shadowlands in a weakened state for very long." He looks up at the dragon and grins. "Shove your offer down the privy like Asena said. But know this," his voice grows sardonic, "wise one: the day will come when I have an empire stretching across the length and breadth of this world. And when my victory is complete," Balor says as he stabs a finger towards the dragon's face, "you're next."

"Stand down or you will regret it," Lord Osiris says. "The new queen has command of a ghost-glass moon, and knows how to bring a kinetic strike down on your head."

Balor turns towards him and spits. "The new queen is a coward who'll never trade her life for her people's. Her mother, now, she had guts. But this child's only a figurehead queen, according to my spies, and when she sees the size of my army, she'll turn tail and run for the hills." He shrugs. "It'll take time to find her, I admit, but in the end she'll be captured. Those Brittani not enslaved will be put to the sword, and my empire will grow."

Greywolf stalks forward again several steps. "Not if I rip out your throat first."

Balor smiles, opening his arms wide. "I won't be hard to find, lad. If you've got the guts to attack, I'll be waiting... but only until the siege engines and catapults firing explosive bombs are in place. At that point, I will-"

"Enough," the dragon snaps, its voice close to a deafening roar. "I came here to make our final offer, not to listen to your petty squabbles over trinkets in the dirt. Any who wish to come home, tell me now and I will send a flying chariot of a kind you have never seen before, to the place where your sleeping body lays. It will pick you up and return you here to the 'Roof of the World'. When all who wish to come have been assembled, we shall leave." He looks at Lord Osiris and his expression softens. "Old friend, will you join me?"

Lord Osiris glances at the other Celestials Greywolf and I gave mana to in Aegyptus, before turning back towards the dragon. "Tholthac, my mind is a two-faced Janus. I also gave my word to remain here until my death, and yet..." The words trail off as he sighs. "There is nothing I want more than to spend my last years wandering the forests and hills of my youth, and sharing them with the ones who have never seen them."

"You will find things changed," the dragon replies in a gentle voice, "and yet, unchanged as well. Take counsel with those close to you, and I will send the chariot to Memphis within a fortnight."

"Send one to Konstanopolis as well," a tall Celestial says, glancing around at several others. "I cannot guarantee all of us will board, yet when the time comes, I believe more of us will be on it than not."

"Send one to me as well," a broad shouldered Celestial male with a forked beard in wide braids adds. "I don't even need to think twice."

"What?" Asena puts her hairy hands back on her hips as she glares at the dark haired male. "Wotan, you ugly bastard, I've yet to get revenge on you for banishing me, and you're going to just slink away without giving me the chance?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he replies with a tired smile. "I should be furious with the council for manipulating us the way they did, especially with your son, but truth be told... I'm just too exhausted to care. I want to go home and breath air not harsh from woodsmoke, eat food that's not raw or half burnt, and drink real wine. Not the goat piss these lands produce." He glances upward. "Do they still make love, or is that forbidden?"

The dragon chuckles. "I believe you will find yourself in great demand, for the novelty and your stories, if naught else."

"But the devices," Asena says. Is that a note of pleading in her voice? "Wotan, if you go, you won't even be able to slap a wench's naked arse in play."

"You still can if you ask permission," the dragon says, sounding amused. "A goodly number enjoy a bit of roughness, because they know it can never get out of hand, and will stop if they say no more."

Wotan looks bemused. "That's something different. Still," he says with a smile creeping up his face, "I never really enjoyed tumbling unwilling wenches. Too many tears afterward." Asena is giving him a look of disgust, but that seems to be making Wotan even happier. "Tholthac, I'm an ugly old bear. But if your people can handle a bit of harmless roaring once in a while, I'd like... no, I truly want to lay down my axe and never pick it back up again." He turns towards Asena. "It's been a long war, Wolf-mother, and while I'd like to think some good will eventually come out of it-"

"Greywolf came out of it," Asena snarls, cutting him off.

Wotan gives them both a hard stare... but then, his expression softens. "Aye, he did, and for what it's worth, I'm sorry I didn't see the truth sooner. Fight your war with Attila, and I'll tell whoever is still listening to me that the time's come to sweep away the old." He looks at Balor and sneers. "If you want to sink your teeth into someone's throat, sink them into his." Then he glances back at Asena and winks. "And if we do meet up in the afterlife, you can take a bite out of my arse, how about that?"

As if his words opened a dam, all of them begin speaking or arguing at once, as Yasataar touches me on the arm. "The dragon's dream is on the edge of ending. But there are mysteries we must discuss before the night ends, so let us travel back to my spirit tent where it will at least be quiet."

As she takes my hand, I give her a puzzled look. "Mysteries? I do not-"

"Understand? Not yet, but you will. Mysteries..." With her other hand, Yasataar touches my cheek as she adds, "Along with a secret hope. Even if you are forced to call down fire from the heavens and sacrifice yourself for your people, there is still a way for you to return to Greywolf's arms. Follow me and I will teach you."

I let Yasataar lead me away into darkness.