MANDORLA: Gods and Elves

By Dale Cameron Based on a story by James Culverhouse and Dale Cameron mandorlastory@gmail.com

Not where, whom. Let me tell you

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Contents 1st Arc Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine The Death of Stem Faar Stones and Bones Ash of Loneliness Keep in the Cellar Awakenings Chasing Birds A Rending and a Sending Do Not Suffer a Witch to Live Before Tomorrow First Letter to Eleanor 4

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PROLOGUE THE DEATH OF STEM FAAR

An unclean wind carried the dragon down river. The River Tael was known for her ill winds. Winds that caused men to weep without reason or shiver in the heat of summer. This wind was different. Far upstream of the River Tael and beyond even the unending forests of the Wold, was a land of death. And in that land of scorched decay, there was a deep cave at the heart of a barren mountain. From within did the foul breath exhale.

The dragon Stem Faar was cloaked in mist, hidden from the first rays of dawn. He bore a heavy load: seventy men, four horses, two cows, six sheep, a disassembled wagon, fifty-four barrels of cargo, and one woman. With thirty oars aside, a hull crafted for river or sea, and a carved dragonhead perched upon his curved bow, rightly was Stem Faar a prince among dragons.

Stem Faar's single square sail was taut. An ibis flag fluttered upon his mast, though none aboard could feel a wisp of breeze. A sheep gutted and Dale Cameron 2011 4

bleeding was roped to the stern and dragged in the dragons wake. The captain of Stem Faar watched the waters about the sheep, while directing the two men who manned the steerboard. Two lookouts, hanging low over the dragonhead, watched the waters at the bow. The rest of the men sat attentively on shared chests, their oars readied and poised for their Captains whispered command. These warrior-sailors were the Dragonmen of the Isles. They sat in pairs, one twin with another. Boys of the Isles destined to ride the dragons, were twinned at birth to another born the same day. From the moment they were bound together by the Temple Priests of Pelagos and Potamos, the Conjoined Brother Twins, the two boys were one. Far more than twins born of the same womb, dragon twins shared but a single name. 'Two Flesh - One Spirit', that was their creed.

The captain, who had no twin aboard Stem Faar, raised his fist, and pairs of men gathered the square sail. They worked in silence, as was their practice. If any twin thought about the wind, or its lack, it was with a dismissive sniff, hurrying his mind onto other thoughts. The only sound was a mournful crow and the lapping waters against Stem Faars slowing hull.

Ever so faintly, a new sound intruded. Except this sound was felt, rather than heard, vibrating up through the wood of Stem Faar until it reached into their bones. A writhing darkness swept up behind Stem Faar and the rope of the bleeding sheep fell limp. Wyrms. The size of a mans finger, they hunted in feasts so large, they could cloud the waters black and bring a boat at full

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sail to an abrupt halt. Drawn to blood, wyrms would strip a man of flesh even before death could take him. Some sailors insisted wyrms had a preference for human flesh and would pursue a man in water, over any animal. These were the beasts that the captain of Stem Faar hunted in the Bog.

The Bog was a place of fog and stunted growth, where unwary sailors could lose their way amongst flooded backwaters and shifting islands of mud and weed. Few sailors dared venture into the Bog, and none would choose to linger, but would row strongly until the River Tael once again coalesced and climbed onto the Plains.

A red hooded man, in fine, gold embroidered, robes and wearing sparkling jewels upon each ringed finger, nodded toward the captain. The red hooded man, like the captain, had no twin aboard Stem Faar. There were two other twinless men, merchants. They stood near their horses and cargo, and cast fearful glances toward the churning waters. The two men also kept one eye upon the reason for their hunt, which lay disconcertingly close to where they stood. In a long black sack and suspended by chained feet and wrists across the deck, was a woman. Gagged, bagged and trussed, the only safe way to transport a witch.

With the witch had been found a large stone chest the length of a man. The contents remained a mystery, though three had uneasy suspicions.

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The red hooded man directed two young twins, boys really, to release the witch. Nervously the boys complied. First they unfastened the chains that suspended her and only then, removed her black covering sack. They released her ankles but left her wrists bound with tight leather. If this woman was a witch, she didnt look like one, but then witches never did. That was their skill, for how else could they live amongst men so freely. This witch was young, only a few years into womanhood, pale and fine featured, with matted black hair and sky blue eyes. She looked overawed, as well she might, surrounded by the searching furtive glances of eager men and waiting wyrm; but she did not play the tears and terror, like many a witch would when facing the Ordeal. The red hooded man motioned, and with more confidence this time, the boys led the witch toward him. The witch wore a dress; old, worn and short. The dragontwins crowded in close.

Gradually the witchs indifference to their fascination with her female form, had a softening effect on the mens ardor. This witch, so the men grumbled, could be the witch of legend, the Bog Witch. Whose song was said to be so entrancing, it would lure a sailor deep into the Bog. There she would devour his flesh, leaving only his manhood untouched. By such a means the spirit of the sailor would be held in servitude to her will, until his member had finally rotted into nothing and his spirit freed at last.

The red hooded man motioned again to the two boys and gingerly, but obediently, they each took hold of one of the witchs arms. An older and

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stronger second set of twins laid their own hands upon the witchs legs. The red hooded man, with a dramatic flourish, brought forth a sharp knife, rich in gold engraving, and knelt piously before the witchs feet. He mumbled words of prayer. The witch watched him carefully but uttered not a sound as he sliced her high on her inner thighs, once down each leg. Red blood flowed free. Thus was a woman thrice cut, for the Three Gods.

The red hooded man rose and held the blooded knife aloft for all to see. His hood fell back, revealing a face heavily tattooed with intricate design and marking him as a Reader of Dragons. He smiled in satisfaction. With a dismissive wave of the knife, he signalled for the Ordeal to begin. Lifting the witch over the side of Stem Faar, the two boys and men lowered her feet first into the feast of wyrm. As the dragontwins gathered to watch, their combined weight tilted Stem Faar to one side and the witch entered the water.

One of the merchants turned away. With his gaze averted, it was he who first sensed the unnatural wind upon the River. He was not anxious, not for himself, but there was something disturbing on the air, that turned his thoughts from the Ordeal of the woman. Even within the Bog, a land of rotting decomposition, the wind stank foul. Surrounding Stem Faar he could see naught but mist. He tried to alert the captain, though he had no clear idea of what he would say. The captain was too far sternward and his attention was, like the rest of the dragontwins, preoccupied on the woman; and the man did not yet feel confidant of true danger to shout a warning. It was with mixed

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relief then that the merchant caught the Reader looking directly at him.

The Reader seemed to know at once the mans concern and he lifted his head skyward. Closing his eyes in concentration and cupping his hands before his lips, he slowly exhaled into his waiting palms. A vapour appeared, blue and almost imperceptible if you looked directly toward it, but from the corner of ones eye, and if the gods were willing, it might be perceived. The vapour grew with the Readers continued breath, until his cup was full and the vapour threatened to spill or perhaps rise. And rise it did, forming into the shape of a thin necked bird, surrounded by startling blue feathers; a peacock that vanished into the mist surrounding Stem Faar, just as quickly as it had materialised.

A few of the men had noticed the Readers action but the witch had been lowered waist deep into the water and the men were eager to witness the verdict of the Ordeal. It was only the merchant who saw the Reader of Dragons send forth his mentashade and it was only he who saw its return. Dragon steerboard! shouted the Reader. The alerted twins looked across the water peering into the fog but the Reader was looking to the sky. Shadow darkened above Stem Faar. The shadow solidified into the shape of wide outspread wings and descending open claws.

The dragon emerged steerboard just as the Reader had predicted but what the Reader had not foreseen was the way the dragons talons pierced Dale Cameron 2011 9

his chest and belly. The Reader gave no cry just an indignant cough. With two beats of his wings, that caused Stem Faar to lurch in the water, the dragon and the Reader of Dragons disappeared up into the mist.

All on Stem Faar looked to their Captain for deliverance. The captain stood forth boldly. He moved with hurried but calm purpose. The captain glanced at the two merchants, there was no time now to cover their eyes. The Law of the Isles would demand their deaths. To a man each and every dragontwin would see it done. As for the witch, if she survived the Ordeal, higher authority then he would decide her fate. He brought forth the knife at his belt and sliced a line down the inside of his forearm. He raised his arm to the sky. No blood sprang forth only the blue vapour of spirit. Thus was Balada the Great's covenant, between man and dragon, renewed. On this covenant the wealth of the Isles was founded. For only the dragon ships could pass unscathed through the Wash, the home of dragons.

The men on Stem Faar felt the heat before they saw the dragon. Dragonfire. Though the dragontwins knew the danger, none heeded, for where was safety when death was all around? The wyrm infested waters of the Bog offered death as surely as dragon fire. In their captain did they give their faith.

The horses had no such faith. They bucked wild with fear, instinctive self-preservation urging on their efforts to escape their doom. One horse broke free from its restraint and thrashed shrieking into the two merchants, its

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hooves kicking out in all directions. The merchant who had first sensed the wind was knocked over the bow, his flailing hands grasping Stem Faar's side in desperation. His feet came to rest just above the water. Then his grip failed.

The two steersmen at the stern had lifted their Captain up onto their shoulders, so that he could best signal the dragon. The Captain was the first to burn. Those that could leapt to their deaths, just as surely as those who remained onboard.

The dragon came and fire rode before him. He offered up to the unclean wind a burnt sacrifice of wood, beast and men.

High above the mist in a blue clear dawn the Reader, gasping his last, peered into the morning sun and beheld the dragon. The dragon turned its sinuous neck to gaze down at the Reader. Even in death the Reader could feel the wrongness, as could the mentashade which dwelt within him. For seventeen years they had been together, more intimate than any twin or lover. The mentashade was leeching free from the Readers dying body. He could feel the outrage the mentashade felt at their forced parting but there was nothing either could do. The laws of man, and the laws of spirit, ruled them both.

The Readers agonal breaths must have proved too slow for the dragons patience, for he suddenly ripped his claws, and the Reader, apart.

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The Reader died and the spirits that dwelt within him were suddenly revealed in full. A small shrivelled canary, long neglected, fluttered perplexed in the dazzling morning sky, before turning upriver to begin the long flight toward the Wold and, were he found worthy, to the Hall of the Gods. The second, the mentashade, was a man like blue figure with a peacocks head. The peacock mentashade could not be held by physical claws and he peered with disdain on the falling physical remains of the Reader, as he searched for his next human host. There were handsome men aboard Stem Faar, one might prove worthy of him. It was then that the peacock mentashade felt an unexpected force. He was being pulled up and against the underbelly of the dragon, where carved in ink and scar were three tattoos. The first was of a hunting falcon, the second a seeking cormorant and the third, a majestic peacock. Mark the flesh to bind the spirit. With a silent squawk from his bird head the peacock mentashade was drawn up though the tattoo and into the dragon. There he was bound to the spirit he found waiting.

The dragon flew into the wind. Let Ashteknial come, it was begun.

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