Keeper of the Cup of Sorrow

[Thallas]

It was a crooked path that wound it’s way through this life. My life. I pulled a cart heavy with broken promises and innocence lost. Stopping often along the way to drink from my cup of tears and pick up some shattered dream that lay glittering beside the road.
As the sun dipped behind a distant hill I picked up a loose shard, a broken promise, and looked back at the face of the “man” I had become. What a despicable word “man”. I have been called many things; Barefoot boy, Star of the Freak Show, Keeper of the Cup of Sorrow. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the task, the task and the debt that would be paid.
A soft sound startled me out of my reflection and I knew it was time to move on. This was no place to dwell come sundown, even for me, who was never approached without ample reason. Wrapping up the shard I placed it carefully in my cart for each was precious and sacred. They would be made whole again someday. The sun was sinking and I could sense my destination in the distance. Soon I would dance with my chosen mistress, Temptress she is often called, though her name is Death. Wrapped in a silent waltz my burden delivered, my debts all paid. What a long strange journey it had become from such noble origins.
Again I became aware of a soft sound far away but closer this time. Who would come here? What would they seek in this desolate realm? No friend to me I would wager. Friend. What a simple word. Even an enemy would be welcome respite from my loathsome, unending task.
I left my cart in the road and moved along a path grown with tangled brush and clinging vines. Had this been here before? I knew this road from end to end, or so I thought. The sound of tiny bells, gold and silver on the wind guided me away from the setting sun, away from my destination, away from the shadows. I knew those bells.
Didn’t I?
Shortly I came upon a clearing, a clearing in the Forrest of Lies? Ha! Who would do such a thing? Why? This area was shunned by even those few foolhardy enough to come to this unforgiving zone. Yet there it was, ringed by forest and bathed in sunlight. Even more astonishing was the fact that in its center sat a small yellow house; vaguely familiar though I was certain I had never before been here. A house. Yellow. In this forest…
The sun was setting and I was far from my stone bed, the shadows called for me to turn back. My task was not done and I was far from…home. I should turn back.
Yet I could not.
The music was louder here, it seemed to flow like a river through my mind. Washing away the sad colors that painted my landscape. I laughed, I cried out, I sang along and was swept away into a world full of soft pastels. Purple? Was that its name? It had been so long I wasn’t sure. Purple. I know that color. It frightened me yet I couldn’t turn away.
A wall of tiny flowers woven so tightly that I could not pass had block the path back. I was afraid? It really didn’t feel like fear. It felt like…something…
Suddenly the door was flung open and music poured out into the glade, smooth and beautiful, thick, and rich. It called my name and would not be denied. I sang and my heart filled, how did it ever get to be so empty? I lifted my head and realized just how long I had been staring that the ground. All these years. I sang as darkness fell and the moon rose above me. I sang my heart out and saw for once my cup, “The Cup”, was empty, how strange, it wasn’t supposed to be. The music embraced my hollow soul like a lover’s gentle caress and starlight exploded all around me. I was lost, found, lost again, only slightly surprised when an angel danced out of the little yellow house, golden music swept past her and up into the evening sky. The song filled my cup, not with tears, never again. Sweet compassion, love, understanding, relief, satisfaction, I drank my fill and drank again. I turned to admire this amazing creature misplaced by wicked fate to this black wood. Why had she come here?
Golden described her best. Not gold in color, but golden of essence, in movement, in attitude. What the word really means. She seemed unaware of me as I stood in slack jawed wonder at this amazing sight. She wore a tunic of soft blue sewn with tiny jewels on each lapel, diamonds, why did I know that? Her legs were bare to the knee and then blue leather boots completed her simple attire. Moving purposely to the center of the clearing, music flowing around and past her, swirling at her feet. She stood silently for a moment then threw back her head and from her perfect lips a single clear note rang out. It rang all the way to my teeth in its purity. They ached with goodness. From somewhere far to the east a deep bass note rose in harmony, then another, followed by an answering moan of the evening wind, the cry of a hawk, soon it was as if the entire universe called out in answer. Then things really started happening fast.
A staircase of tiny flowers grew up from the rich earth higher and higher into to the deep blue sky. The angel lightly danced up the steps, again moving with purpose as if impatient…
I myself stood mesmerized by the power of this cosmic sound. It ground my bones to powder and reshaped them into something stronger, lighter. It burnt my withered heart to a cinder and then breathed gentle life back into my soul. It laid bare all my wicked secrets and washed them far out into the mindless sea. It bathed me in self-awareness and acceptance. It made me see who I really am. And what I would become.
I realized the debts I owed were all my own, it was myself I had to repay. The task I performed so dutifully was meaningless, punishment, a task of shame. I laughed. I paid myself in full, done deal. It was instant and forever. My task was done. I would toil in the shadows no more. I was remade. I was unbroken.
Then at the top of the stairs to the sky, I saw the angel dancing on a strand of silver moonlight and I knew I had lost my heart forever. Lost? There was no loss involved, I gave it freely and without expectation. It is the way of my kind…
My kind? My kind? I fell to my knees in the soft grass and tears of joy overwhelmed me.
It all came rushing back in a flood of sensation, power, knowledge, redemption, and awareness. I knew everything. She had strung bells high in the treetops. It was the way of my kind to answer. The Song of The Ages was what I was hearing. She was a Storm Rider, and she had just bonded her mate, her chosen, and her champion. Me.

She had awakened a dragon. I fell forward.

[Thallas]

Hmmm I told Teek those mushrooms tasted funny.

[Riverdane]

And from such food as offered from the plate of the Muse, dreams are conceived, and breathed into life...

[Talvarien]

Mushrooms or not...that was an awesome story. I liked it ;~)

The splash of reality...rippling waves of discontent across my mind's eye <0>

tal

[Thallas]

Avril’s Song


She hurried down the cobbled streets past ancient statues and empty buildings long abandoned and slowly sinking into themselves. Empty pools and dry cracked fountains were all that remained of the magnificent gardens that once graced the various courtyards and avenues of fair Adaira, Gem of the Southern Winds, birthplace and bastion of the last true prophet.
Lost Adaira! She recalled with a grimace and forced her mind back to the twisting lane that she followed. Not even the dust lingered here. No human or…other…had set foot in this forgotten city in over 350 years. Adaira had been the first city to fall…back when…everything went wrong.
The Dragon Scrolls named it The Dance of Humility, men once hailed it as The War of the Temptress, now it was simply…before…
Even after 3 and a half centuries humankind was yet a remnant of a fragment of it’s former number. And the rest? None had seen a Dragon in over 100 years and few if any had exchanged words with one of the survivors of that bloody period in far longer.
Yet she had found a path into this cursed ruin when even the Seers swore that it would never be. Surely she strode the paths of destiny this day. If a dragon yet breathed, she would not fail to find it, awaken the bond, and walk beside it through the golden threads of prophecy. She must!
She had been born with the gift, just like her great great great grandmother, she was the first in 3 centuries, she sang the heartsong, destiny wove itself around her, no Dragon could or would ever refuse her. She would not fail.
Pausing to drink from a small silver flask, she leaned back against a crumbling
stone doorway and took a deep breath. She was not a large woman but maintained an athletic grace born from years of training at a myriad of combat weapons and magical dance. Though well into her “middle” years, she was slim and quick, stronger than you would guess, and as deadly as a serpent in a dark room. With a heart shaped face, the high cheekbones of her father’s race, deep brown eyes, small upturned nose, and fine, arrow straight hair so blonde it turned nearly white in the summer sun, she was…unusual… She could be stunningly beautiful in an exotic way…when she chose to be…She often chose to be... Yet she was a War Dancer, an assassin without peer. Combined with an unheard of proficiency at the use of magical song and dance, she was probably the most dangerous human on the planet. She was Avril of Valdos, Queen of the Fallen, Keeper of Secrets. She would not fail!
The shadows were growing longer as she shook herself alert once more.
She had almost dozed off. STUPID! The Temptress never sleeps! Sleep was a long lost image in a flood of unpleasant memories, but…She must not fail!

Creeping along the shadows towards a rather large golden dome in the distance she pulled out a tattered parchment, faded and crumbling at the edges. Barely legible in the failing light she recognized the “dome” as one of the landmarks in Mikeal’s brief instructions. “He was last seen here…beside the Dome of Groja…east it appears…the portal stone is just to the left of a statue of Brenada…he stepped in…she stepped out…The Temptress…those few that escaped got out in the first hour…or they did not…”
It was approaching twilight when she found the statue, east of the dome and left of the avenue. Her hands shook as she opened her pack and began to assemble the necessary items. Bud of a purple tulip, several yards of dragon bells gold and silver, moonstone fragments, and the most important, a small bracelet worn by the prophet as a child and said to contain a shard of his eternal soul. None could decipher the runes either front or back, though it appeared those on the rear of the small bangle had been scratched and vandalized at some point. Was it before or after it left his possession? Why would anyone do that? She once again shook herself alert. No time for idle daydreams Dancer! This was the day she had lived for. The day she had been born for. Even though at best it was a beginning. This was walking The Prophecy. She must not fail!!!!!
She spread the items before her, slipped the bracelet onto her wrist and it began…
The first notes of the ancient song were soft and rhythmic much like a child’s lullaby. Her body began to sway to the beat that only she could hear. Slowly, almost imperceptivity the tempo strengthened and the song rose in pitch, she rose to her feet along with it. Tapping the earth with her toe then heel. Turning her body as the melody filled her heart and rose like a beacon in the fading light. Raising her arms in a lovers embrace. Turning to face the portal stone. Truth. Her song flew higher and more complex. It was a call to the sky and a plea to the passion of a Dragon’s heart. Clean, pure notes rang true in the twilight. The world shimmered. She stepped onto the portal stone.
She would not fail.
She sank into a dream of ice and fire. It was as cold as the waning moon yet burned with a searing, white-hot flame that stripped all reason and sanity aside and left her frozen in an infinite moment of despair. It shouldn’t be like this! The Seers all said the portals would not be affected! But the Seers had been wrong before…
She had not been frightened in a long time, but as the icy mist surrounded her thoughts and the blistering fire ate at her will, her soul scream one pure thought.
I WILL NOT FAIL!!
The world was wrong. Her finger was too large, her eyelash too small.
Silly! She thought. How can that be? It was a lifetime before she realized that she was viewing the world distorted through a single tear caught on the offending lash. Where was this place? Why is everything charcoal gray? How would anyone live here?
The answer was not kind.
There is no life here. Just a shadow, just a dream without hope.
The shadows grew longer as she drifted into every bleak memory, mired in discomfort and lost in the depths of woe.
I WILL NOT FAIL!
The words came to her slowly and at first had little meaning. But as the shadows grew longer her disquiet increase and soon she found base comfort in cataloging her meager inventory. The furled bud of a purple tulip, a few fragments of moonstone, several lengths of leather strung with tiny bells…
DRAGON bells. Memory flooded her like a warm blanket, she knew…
She gathered up to the few precious moonstone and sang a soft melody while holding them out-stretched in her trembling hand. Suddenly a small but comfortable cottage appeared, bathed in moonlight and complete in it’s absurdity. How can this be?
Bright yellow? Yet somehow it felt right…Perfect! Dragons are drawn to shiny things.
She would not fail…
Using a simple child’s song, she swiftly strung the bells among the tops of the towering evergreens and waited…IF there were dragons in this plane such as Mikeal suggested…well we would all see shortly…
She drifted along in her exhaustion. The Temptress never sleeps! It was the litany of every child. Every mother sang the memory to her children.
From somewhere far away a single note rang true…
She sang and the heavens rejoiced…