Ecliptica Page 2

  “How do you know who I am and how could you have ‘been expecting me?” Drake questioned, imitating Zeek’s voice. His nerves at being trapped and connected to the pillar led him to his tried and tested technique: humour.

  “The flow of magic through the realm is not just in the present. Magic tells stories of the past and whispers secrets of things yet to come, for those who know how to listen. There were whispers of your coming young Drake,” Zeek finished.

  “I don’t understand…how..,” Drake began, puzzled. Zeek cut him off before he could continue his thoughts.

  “All in good time, we have much to talk about and even more to achieve together. For now, remove the Ecliptica piece from before you”.

  As Drake watched, the light beneath his frozen hand grew brighter and a square of stone dissolved. As the light began to fade, freedom returned to his body and he cupped his hand, massaging his palm. Raising his eyes to the column, Drake saw an opening had replaced solid stone. Inside was a purple cloth of the finest weave he had ever seen. Reaching cautiously inside, his fingers gently curled around the cloth. The weave was so fine, that it felt like trying to pick up water with his hand. Yet, as he clasped, something solid stopped his fingers from meeting. There was something wrapped inside the cloth. Gently taking hold, Drake lifted out the object from the column. Drawing back the folds, he gazed upon a silver rod, the length of his hand. It was a thing of immense beauty. Delicately carved into its surface were more of the glyphs Drake had seen on the floor mere moments before. Amongst the glyphs were flawless fire-red rubies. As Drake stared into the stones, he could see swirls of smoke whisping around inside of each one. Something seemed to flicker, drawing his gaze closer; looking deeper, he saw dragons in the skies of distant lands. A Great Dragon filled his view; a giant red beast of the sky, circling a mountain. As he watched, the dragon watched him…and that was when his eyes began to tingle. Tears clung to his lashes, yet still he watched until, finally, blinking softly, Drake broke his gaze. Slowly raising his eyes, he looked at the rod, his eyes adjusting…his new, golden eyes.

  It took him by surprise when the tingles stopped. The world seemed sharper and clearer. Details he had not even seen hints of before, now stood out in startling clarity. He could clearly make out the grain in the stonework, the incredibly fine layer of dust that had settled on the scrolls around the room and even the pores in his skin.

  “What the…?!” Drake exclaimed, blinking quickly, suddenly disorientated by the sharpness of his sight. He began to stumble forward, his hand landing heavily on the column, bracing his fall. As he blinked again, strange whisps began to glow all around him; the room seemed full of these coloured lines. Drake turned slowly; the lines surrounded him…and all converged at his feet.

  “What…I mean...really…what?” he muttered distractedly. Slowly he turned on the spot, trying to find where the lines were coming from.

  “I have unchained your gift of dragon sight,” Zeek replied after a moment.

  “And what, prey tell, was wrong with my old sight? I can’t say I ever found it a hindrance. I think this..,” Drake waved his arms in front of him, “might cause me some problems with, let’s say…hmmm…walking”.

  Zeek chuckled a deep rumble. “You are more strange than I imagined youngling. It will take you some time to adjust. I must admit that during my hatchling years, I too found the flow difficult to understand. Try not to focus on it and it will dim”.

  “ ‘The flow’, do you mean that these…colours…are the magic flow?” Drake questioned whilst trying, and failing, not to look at the colours around him.

  “Indeed. What you can see is your connection to the flow. The emerald lines represent the flow from the earth beneath your feet. This is the greatest source of magical strength that can be drawn upon. The sapphire is from the waters of the realm. These are ever changing and can be found when almost all other sources have dwindled or diminished.”

  “The ruby is from fire?” Drake guessed. He reached his hands out in front of him, reaching towards the red strand that flowed around him. Although his fingers met with nothing solid, his fingers become enveloped by the rich colour. The line did not seem disrupted. It was strange, he could see it clearly, but could not feel anything.

  “Not as such. The ruby is from the living things around you: trees, plants and creatures. They have a great concentrated store, but if too much is taken then the life is extinguished. As dragons, we used the emerald flow, drawing our strength from the earth around us. It is a gift and not to be abused as those of The Shadows did, to gain an excess of power. Although much can be gained through magic, it is a balance, and much can be lost.”

  “Is that what happened to The Shadow Realm?”

  “In part, yes. Their falling was an event that was helped by me. What you hold in your hand is part of me. All ruling dragons have an Ecliptica; it is a store of great magical power. That is why The Shadows had imprisoned so many of us: to use our power to fuel their experiments. Three hundred and six years ago, I escaped my chains and, using the only spell I could remember, shattered my Ecliptica. The uncontrolled magic spread across The Shadow Realm, causing much of the damaged land you still see today. What you hold in your hand is my core essence, the centre of my Ecliptica. It is from here that I speak to you,” Zeek ended with a prideful tone.

  “How did you get in there?” Drake asked incredulously, gesturing to the column. “I can’t imagine you flew in.”

  “Quite,” Zeek replied. “The Elves knew of my sacrifice and found my weakened core mere moments after I had shattered. Thanks to events prior to my physical demise, I was able to send a short mental communication to Queen Shan’eu. Luckily, upon dispersion, the core does not fall far from the initial location. Once my core was found, they brought me to this place where my consciousness could recover and I could await the one who would restore me. That is you, youngling. A heavy destiny awaits you Drake, not only my resurrection, but that of the entire dragon race.”

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful for this…honour…but why me? I’m all for a colourful life, but this is a bit literal,” he waved agitatedly towards the ground once again.

  “You have in you, the ability to weave great spells. Magic that is unheard of in these lands. To lead a better life, a noble life, or would you deny a dragon his request?”

  “Zeek. You had me at spells,” Drake chuckled as he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.

  “In which case, I believe it is far overdue for your first lesson. Focus on the emerald line and raise your right hand”.

  Drake did as he was instructed and focused on the colour surrounding him. The emerald lines grew more intense as he focused and a strange warming sensation flooded his body, the tips of the fingers in his raised hand began to tingle.

  “Um…Zeek..,” Drake felt a mild panic dampening his excitement.

  “Do not worry. You are simply channelling magic into your hand. Now direct the spell. Face the large wall at the rear of the column.”

  Drake walked tentatively around the column, hand still raised, to face the large bare wall.

  “Good. Now repeat after me. ‘Epscae’,” instructed Zeek.

  “Epscae?,” Drake repeated aloud, hoping he pronounced it as it should sound.

  As the word left his mouth the wall he was facing shook and shuddered. Vines crept through the stone and plunged into the base of the wall. With a great rumbling, a doorway slowly appeared. The vines parted the rock as though it were made only of soft, pliable parchment.

  Drake exhaled the breath he was holding as a smile crept onto his face. “Wow”.

  . . .

  The bright light shone from the walls around him as Drake walked up the passage.

  “Magic, once stored, is directed by word and thought. Once you are practiced in the art, you can achieve all in your mind alone, shaping the magic as you deem necessary. Younglings..,” Zeek continued, “must always direct with a physical movement of the body. A gesture,
however slight, must be made to release the spell.”

  “So, if I wanted to make fire, but in a specific way..?” Drake asked.

  “In your mind’s eye, visualise where and how you want the fire to appear. Once you have this, hold the image and speak the word.” Zeek’s instruction was clear, yet reserved. “It is wise however, youngling, to be aware of how much magical strength you draw from your surroundings and yourself. It is possible to remove all the magic within the area of your reach. Although it will seep back over time, more damage is caused than you can imagine,” he warned.

  As the tunnel drew on, Drake began to grow more accustomed to his new sight and to his new companion, who was stored within a hidden pocket in the inside lining of his long-coat. Walking slowly, he began to consider the hand from which he had released the spell.

  “Indeed, it is possible, though ill-advised,” Zeek spoke suddenly.

  “Huh,” Drake was caught somewhat off-guard by Zeek’s unprompted words. ‘I was only thinking about…Hey, how did you know what I was thinking? Can you read minds?...can you read my mind!?’

  “We have a bond, you and I, through your latent abilities. These events have meant that a unique connection has been formed between our minds. I can hear your thoughts and, in time, you will learn to hear mine.”

  Drake mused, “What if I don’t want my thoughts heard?”

  “I will teach you how to limit the connection, though I will warn you, intense emotion can seep though any barrier you might create.” Drake could hear the smile that accompanied Zeek’s words. “Do not worry; there are things that I do not wish to hear.”

  “…thank you for the reassurance,” Drake sulked. “I have a question Zeek: where, or rather…how, do I find the rest of you?”, he asked, taking the Ecliptica core from his pocket.

  “It will be a difficult task, but like most parts of a body, I can sense them. My Ecliptica you hold, is only my essence and core being. The other parts contain memories, emotions and spells. In my current…condition, I’m afraid that is all I can tell you youngling.”

  “I can see that this may take some time. I was hoping to be done before my evening meal,” Drake joked, “but it will definitely be an interesting time with you in my head.”

  “That, youngling, is certainly true,” Zeek replied.

  Drake’s stomach gave a rumble, reminding him of what he was searching for before his encounter with the Blackbird.

  “First things first however, we are going to need more levens. I certainly can’t start out on an empty stomach,” he chuckled, knowing all too well that levens and his eventual meal would come from a light fingered exploration of a passer-by’s belt loop.

  Reaching the end of the passage, Drake turned and, flexing his fingers in anticipation, headed for the town square.

  ~ 3 ~

  Sitting on the harbour wall of Port Gol, absent-mindedly stroking the pile of parchments that lay beside her, sat Nethalie, her bare feet hitting the stone in a gentle rhythm. It had been almost four days since the strange golden-eyed man had taken the silver puzzle piece and she was no closer to quenching her desire to know what it was or what importance it had. The parchments beside her had belonged to her mother, along with a couple of her father’s, and dated from almost a hundred years ago. Despite Elves being known for having unusually long lives, particularly when compared to a human, the parchments were all inherited from family members of both parents.

  Nethalie sat gazing out across the jewelled sea before her: the Izcath Sea. Ships of all shapes and sizes danced in the bay, bobbing around with the swell and ebb of the tide. Fishing boats, private ships of the wealthy and even one of the huge ferries that transported both people and goods to the other kingdoms. She often dreamt of what the other kingdoms would be like, filled with strange people and customs.

  As she began to daydream of the ferry ships again, she subconsciously began to spin the small medallion that hung around her neck. Nethalie had been given the medallion by her father shortly after her mother had passed. The small golden shape was similar to those the Elves wore, though none had ever seen one quite like this particular design before. At its centre, the delicate shape had a jet black jewel with a deep purple surround. Nethalie often found herself subconsciously spinning it between her fingers, when she was deep in thought.

  Snapping suddenly back from her daydream, her fingers released the medallion. “The Book of Entora,” she cried, startling passers by, “that’s where I’ve seen it! Those stories mother used to tell me.”

  Hurriedly gathering the various parchments in her arms, she rose and began running back up the cobbled street to the shop and, hopefully, to some answers.

  . . .

  Nethalie sat in her room above the shop, her fingers flipping through the delicate pages of the tome that rested on her knees, desperately searching for the right page. She mumbled the names of the passages as the pages sped by; “Book of No’tora…Story of Izabethra…Book of A’tharis…that’s it!” Turning the page slowly she began to read the Elfish writing aloud:

  ‘A fiercesome light burned the skies in our dreams for one quarter of the moon’s cycle. The Great Council met to talk of those events which have spread through our dreams. Paths must now be walked. The red beacon of hope shall be dowsed, but the darkness shall soon be removed once more’.

  The tome that Nethalie remembered had been read to her by her mother. She had thought the stories were like fairytales, but now it almost seemed to read to her like a journal. Not that a great deal of it seemed to make much sense; the Elves had a way of writing things in a way that didn’t translate well to the common tongue.

  She read on, ‘The Great Council is decided. The realm of darkness awaits the well worn boots of Re’nli, Zo’rte, Luciar and I. Three days hence, our journey shall begin. The fate of the Ecliptica is decided thereafter. Even stronger are the dreams that come to us, urging our journey ever onwards. The realm of darkness lies before us, scarred by the evil that inhabits it. Emeralds and Sapphires flow in, but nay flow out.

  At day’s break, the border was breached and our camp made soon after in the dying forest by Mount Esdraksen. Together we await the red beacon’. Nethalie’s eyes skipped greedily over the text. She knew this was the passage she had been looking for. It would explain the strange puzzle piece and the strange man, she was sure of it.

  ‘It has begun; the red beacon hangs in the sky, just as our dreams foretold. Though the passing is a great sorrow, so too shall it be a great hope. The brightest star in the eve’s blanket has gone, passed into the seven shooting pieces of the Ecliptica.’

  The next page contained an image of a silver rod, covered in glyphs and precious stones. It was surrounded by six smaller pieces. At once, she recognized them. The puzzle piece was not so much a puzzle piece any more, it was a piece of this Ecliptica. How had her father not recognized it, he was well-versed in all things of the ancient lands.

  ‘The heart of the red beacon beats slowly in my hand. The faint pulse of life asks if the task is done. The six are lost to us for now, cast to the winds of this world. The Great Dragon of the Ecliptica asks to rest, and so we take him to our Grand Chamber of Knowledge…Efri.

  Our return was marred by a meeting with a surviving Dark Mage. Our battle was fierce to protect the Ecliptica, ended by a swift arrow from Re’nli. The foe did strike one final blow; the crystal of his staff piercing Luciar’s armoured shoulder. Once defeated, Luciar was attended to and the shard removed, but her skin will forever bare the mark.

  The Great Dragon is now at rest with the wise Elves of the council in Efri. The great slumber descends as we await the return of the one with the sight of gold.’

  Sitting back on the bed, Nethalie thought of the young man and his brilliant golden eyes. “Sight of gold,” she muttered to herself. Surely he had not been the one who had been talked of in the writings? Sinking into her thoughts of ancient Elves and Great Dragons, she began to slowly spin the medallion that hung around her nec
k.

  . . .

  Tre’larr was an elderly, stout man. Not long ago in his life he was known as a great explorer and a well-known collector of rare items. Now he was also a broken man. Five years earlier, his partner and soul mate, Luciar, was taken from him by sickness. She had been a wonderful woman and the best of mothers to their daughter, Nethalie.

  The loss of Luciar had caused him much pain, an unbearable ache in his very centre of his being. Moments after her passing he had fled her lifeless body, running deep into the forest to cry out his pain to the world. Stumbling, and blinded by tears of rage, he had walked through day and night. Finally, weary from exhaustion, he had fallen into a crevice in the earth. He only remembered flashes of the following hours, a great darkness, a heavy presence around him and then finally awakening in the same ditch.

  As his salt washed eyes blinked open, he felt nothing, no pain over his loss…yet no joy at this new feeling either, just...nothing. He had walked back to see the daughter that he knew in his mind that he loved, but felt only a slight lift in his spirit upon seeing her. ‘What had happened?’ many asked him, but he could provide no answers.