Gem of a Horse

Have you ever tried to move a horse? How about a Clydesdale? You may think magic helps. It may, but fireballs aren't the most useful tool. Healing wasn't working very well, either. This was more damage than I, or my friends, could overcome. The only good thing was the hill had decided to move on to another location, leaving us in a mud pit. Yes, it was mud. That's the only thought I have of that substance.

As luck would have it, a small caravan was traveling through the area. Luck and small may be misleading, in similar proportions. I looked through the band of travelers, thinking I would catch a glimpse of Leyan or Elisha. I did catch many glimpses, but most were bewildered and some were agitated. I didn't exactly look like a normal person.

If I were to cast myself in a movie using current Earth resources and my current memories, I would pick a strong-man like Brian Shaw to play myself. Although one of the strongest people on the planet, if you see him without a reference, he looks well proportioned and not like an over-grown bodybuilder. It's only when you're given a reference you notice he is quite a bit larger than anyone else. Very similar to my own build. I didn't have the super-hero muscle tone you see in comic books. I looked normal in that regard, but much larger than anyone else.

But, that wasn't my only distinction, as I've mentioned. To reduce the pain, and ease transition, I retained some eagle-like features. My head looked like it had a nice set of white hair. It was actually feathers. Somewhere between the smooth duck feathers and the downy feathers of a duckling. You could mistake it for hair from a distance, but not at the distance I was using for glimpses.

My feet were a bit larger as well. I only retained the front three toes, but had small nubs on the back of my feet for the other toes. Eagle toes, not normal-person toes. Granted, I did wear shoes, but it was obvious my feet were a bit different if you bothered to look.

I've already mentioned my chest was very deep if you looked at me from the side. If you haven't read that section, the strengthened sternum was a feature that staying with me as an anchor for my wing muscles. My back had a similar structure with the same purpose, but it was less obvious. I certainly didn't look like a hump-back.

My face may be more obvious. Although it was mostly normal, it did show more of a peak that was the start of an eagle's head. Just a little more pronounced in the nose and jaw, not something you'd notice from a distance, but something that was just enough to be obvious at glimpse distances.

Hands. Normal, but bigger.

After glimpsing into a dozen or so carts, I finally spotted something that looked useful. A carpenter. We went to my mud-covered horse, slowly writhing in the mud in obvious pain. The caravan's priests were doing their best to calm and offer comfort, but they still weren't strong enough. The carpenter agreed to make a cart for my horse, along with a lift to get him off the ground.

After a few meals, the cart was ready. The mud was drying out, much to everyone's relief. The caravan had stayed clear, something about smell and not wanting to get stuck or mud-covered. And, this was also about the time everyone in that caravan saw something they thought they never would in their lifetime.

As my horse was being lifted into the cart, a large gust of wind rushed through the trees. Then another. The gust stopped as we secured seating for the priests. It was going to be a long journey to the western temple, and we had to somehow trick my horse into thinking it was the eastern temple. There was no way I was going to hide in this large of a caravan.

The two gusts of wind repeated themselves. Bending the large trees to reveal more of the sky, but not quite enough. Granted, the mud pit was really a clearing at this time, but we were in the trees before the gusts had started. People began locking themselves in their caravans. As best you can for something covered in cloth.

Another two gusts rocked the trees. This time they weren't alone, however. There was a deep humming that shook the ground.

You may be thinking back to the origin of my horse about this time. Not when I found him in a cave, but where the stories say he came from. A different cave that my mother had stumbled into. The same cave where she had claimed to speak with Drak-Bar. Those monks that had met her outside the cave were the ones that had mentioned my horse originally. The stories by this time had said they were Drak-Bahr monks. If that has no meaning to you, well, read on.

Skimming the basics, you know that the dragons, like Drak-Bar, create planets based on the plans of the gods. They also like to sleep for very long periods of time. Mortal time. They will awaken from time to time, but usually sleep. One unique feature of my world were the ring of blocking mountains that surrounded all of our land and ocean. These mountains were impossibly tall and steep. Taller than a bird can fly, and steeper than a spider could climb. And, yes, I know spiders can climb vertical walls. These were called Drak-Bar's Boulders, and were said to protect us from the dangers on the other side. What was on the other side? You'll have to keep reading to find out. Not this memory, that's a much different memory for a much different day. Today's memory is why my horse turns to stone. Or at least an intro.

If you were to get the right people in the room, you would get the supposition that Drak-Bar created my horse through his monks. My horse would even tell you that monks were his parents. He never knew any other horse like himself. This is all true, of course. He was raised my monks, and he was larger than any other horse anyone knew about. Much like I was larger than any other person of my species. I do have to throw that last part there, as my people may have been the dominant sentient species, we weren't the only ones. And, there were also semi-sentient species like my horse and wizards.

To be more absolutely correct, my horse was born at the same time I was. He did have a horse-mother like I did. He also had a dragon father and goddess mother. Just not Drak-Bar and my own mother. I don't know his father's name, he wasn't known to me. But, I do know who his mother is. Apparently, I had a child with her as well.

Getting Stoned

Were the dragons coming for one of their own? That may have been a comforting thought, but it really doesn't answer the question. That answer was not a positive one.

While the people mostly hid where ever they could, there were a few of us that tended to my horse, and watched the sky. To be honest, I spent more time looking for running water. No matter the feelings you have for something, if they're covered in a smelly brown goo it will seemingly dim those feelings.

My homeworld was home to more streams and creeks than anyone dared to count. There were many arguments as to the countable number of rivers. The arguments were more about what to call the result of two rivers merging. A fair argument in most cases, but some of the results were river names that took an entire meal to repeat. Just to be fair to all the states the river, and its tributaries, flowed through.

After securing the cart with my horse and tying it to a gang of horses, we tried to get the caravan moving. The repeating wind gusts made the rather difficult. To the tune of no progress. The horses were ready to go, but they wouldn't drive themselves. They didn't seem bothered by the trembling ground or the gusts of wind. The trees seemed bothered as they bowed with each gust. Some lost limbs, others seemed as though they were living trees trying to escape.

Eventually, the gusts subsided. So, we ate a meal, then settled in for a sleep cycle. So much for getting to the temple quickly.

The next morning, the caravan pulled out and began to move toward the western temple. A marching army could make the trip with only a couple more sleep cycles. But, this caravan was a bit slower. Not so much for the wheel speed, but the return of the wind gusts after the second meal. They would subside after the fourth meal and before the sleep, but there was very little progress in that time.

After the fourth sleep cycle, and first meal, I decided it was time to fly above the trees. My horse was still silent, although his chest would still move with each breath. I left my shield with him as I set off in the trees. What would my shield do aside from a loud shriek? It did have other talents to go along with the exploding moon. At least that's what I called it. I may have mentioned the moon emblazoned on its face was a crescent that could fly off toward a target. When it reached its target, it would either explode in an icy cloud, or simply slice through the target.

Another trick dealt with the eagle silhouetted on that moon. The eagle could fly off and expand toward a target, grasping it with its talons or biting with its beak. Like the crescent moon, it would disappear after the attack and return to my shield's face. Between those two options, it was more than capable of defending my horse should trouble arise. At least long enough for me to return.

I was able to find a small clearing not too far from the caravan. It was up on a small hill, so I was able to catch glimpses of the caravan through the trees. They'd stopped moving for the second meal. I had taken my meal as I walked through the trees. I didn't see any trees moving with gusts of wind and the ground was solid, unmoving. Mostly. The gusts and humming were consistent, so I took off into the sky. I was careful to avoid being too close to the caravan. It would have been unlikely of them to see me through the canopy, but I wouldn't want them to think I was the cause of the noise.

I circled above for quite some time, well past the third meal and nearly toward the fourth. The wind up with me was gentle with a few thermal drafts I could rest in. I watched the caravan make almost no progress during this time, just like it had been the prior days. But, I could see a large set of clouds forming in the west. It was going to rain. A lot.

As the caravan started preparing the fourth meal, I returned to their ranks. There was no way I was missing two meals. The people talked about the gusts and the humming sound. They seemed worse than before. I was puzzled, since the sky above was quiet. Then, my brain decided to work. Even from above, there were no streams. Just a thick growth of trees. Normally, a stream could be seen in the pattern of the trees, even if it wasn't visible itself. I decide to talk with one of my priests.

Now, using the term my priest was pretty loose. My priests generally knew who I was by this point, but these priests didn't. Although they were priests for my mother. My other friends that were with me also knew I was able to become an eagle. I'm sure some people could have made that guess if they looked close enough, but I typically wore my armor at all times. It was a good way to hide most of the features.

I knew the priests wouldn't trust me to just talk to their goddess, so I offered a proposition. I said it was going to rain the next day. They said they could see no rain. Priests don't often smirk, but it was there. So, I made them a deal. If it rained, they would contact their goddess during the rain. Of course, they said she didn't always answer. I wasn't worried.

Our sleep was interrupted much before the first meal. The rain was heavy enough the canopy provided little relief. I found the strongest stream and moved my horse to that location. Dried muck smells less than wet muck. And, I think muck ferments.

You may be wondering why I didn't speak directly to my mother at this point. I could, of course. But, the people of the caravan didn't seem to like me very much. I was a warrior traveling with other warriors and had an unhealthy relationship with a smelly horse that really should have been put down. And recycled. Yes, there were many people that ate horses. And any other living thing, muscled or not.

The priests reluctantly began their prayers. They knew they'd miss the meals for the day. Or so they thought. Before the first meal, actually as it was being prepared, the priests broke apart looking quite bewildered. They sat looking back and forth at one another until the food was served. They skipped the meal. It seemed their appetite had been removed.

I, of course, didn't let anyone on that I was watching. I ate my breakfast with my old friends along with a few of the soldiers from the caravan. There was some murmur amongst my friends that the soldiers were friendly only because they feared us. Friendly is friendly in my book. Before you ask, but after you think, my old friends were fairly average. But, a life of fighting had given them impressive physiques, which they were proud to show most of the time. They carried their armor on a cart while walking shirtless. That may have helped the rumors surrounding me, since they barely rose to my shoulders and I kept my armor in place. Presumably hiding an equally impressive physique. I certainly wasn't going to disappoint them with reality, so my armor stayed on. I will admit that after this much time, I was looking for running water for more than my horse.

I'm sure you have a couple questions by now. Will I ever get to the part about my horse turning to stone and what did the priests hear? Yes.

After the meal was complete, the caravan began moving. The priests had remained on their cart, still sitting in their circle. Or square. Or star. Depending on which formation they thought the gods would like. I can tell you first hand the gods really didn't care how they sat. The prayers were still annoying. At least the majority of prayers were annoying. This one seemed to catch the attention of more than one god. My mother being one of them.

I'm sure most of you have been scolded by your mother. Or think you've been scolded. I can assure you that you weren't, especially in comparison. My head hurt for several days after. Several. Not because I was saving my horse, or with this caravan. Even though the latter wasn't particularly favored, it paled in comparison to not speaking directly with my mother earlier. This seemed a bit odd. Typically, if I spoke with my mother more than once a cycle, I was being needy. Now, just a few days was enough to anger her. Or at least unleash some of her wrath.

I will answer one of those questions now, and one later. You probably remember how I got here. We made camp on the back of a living hill and it didn't appreciate our horses eating its tentacles. Well, that was just a baby living hill. Riding on its mother's back.

Now What?

Riding atop a living hill usually doesn't play out well for the passengers. The trick may just be determining who the passengers are.

To help, my five friends and I started on living hill number one with our horses. Five horses were eaten, and mine was badly injured. This part would be easy for you to remember. I haven't talked much about the caravan, aside from there was one with a carpenter and some priests. Priests were pretty much with any traveling group. As were carpenters. Everything we had was made of wood or stone. Stone was seldom used in carts.

There were many other people in the caravan. The priests and the carpenter said they'd talked with them, but they weren't part of the caravan originally. The priests were from one of my uncle's temples. He was said to care for the trees. This also explains the carpenter who was traveling with them. As for the caravan, they were met at the base of a hill. The caravan leader offered a ride for the travelers in exchange for divine protection.

Your questions may now lead toward that stone thing I've been mentioning. We have wood priests, basically, not stone priests. Well, let's just keep going and see where we end up. Actually, I know where we're going, you just get to take a ride along my memory.

And, speaking of memories, you may be wondering how far in advance I have all this planned. Let's just say, this far. This is all coming together in a spontaneous manor. And, depending on when and how you read this site, you're either along for the ride or getting rather confused. Either way, let's get back to this caravan.

Now we have two basic groups of people. The original caravanners that are hiding in their carts most of the time, and the small group consisting of myself, my five friends, a carpenter, and a handful of priests. Maybe six or seven. My horse is on a cart closer to the caravan, but no longer in line with the caravan. The ground is rumbling and we can still hear and feel the rhythmic wind. We're sitting in what accounts for the best clearing we'd seen since we'd all come together. The priests eyes are much larger than their heads at this moment. I'm sure my friends and I weren't any less expressive. My horse was still silent. As were my armor, shield, and mace.

The priests had more levels of astonishment aside from learning about living hills in the first place. No fewer than ten gods had answered them. The moon (my mother), the sun, the rain (my aunt with complications), the trees, the earth (ground in this case, dirt more specifically), the grass (yes, I'm serious, there were gods for everything), the ocean, the stone (very different from dirt, trust me), the air, and of course the hills. The last was the one responsible for the living hills. And, we'll pretend I'm remembering these correctly. Most are easy, but only a few are important at this time.

The first chore was moving my horse closer to us in the clearing. This was in an effort to leave this particular living hill. We had been informed that this mother was carrying quite a few of her children. And, she was also quite angry. I'm sure she was grieving, but the anger part was dangerous. The hill god did offer some assistance. He offered to calm her down so we'd have a chance to leave, or at least be shown a true path.

That last part is the danger with the living hills, which were thankfully very rare. The hills had a unique existence. They'd be born where the ocean meets with the earth, trees, and sand. As the first hill grew, it would spread over the land sprouting trees and grass as a disguise. The longer the hill stayed at this location, the larger it would grow and the more likely it was to create its children. Eventually, the hill would be compelled to leave and migrate to its future home. This meant traveling from the eastern ocean toward the western mountain range. When it reached a spot on the range that it felt appealing, it would press itself against the mountain. This would release any children at first, and then the hill would become part of the mountain, effectively ending its life.

If you're concerned about the circle of life, the hill would be transported back to the ocean, grain by grain, by the flowing rivers. It would again assemble into a living hill and migrate to the mountains once again. While this may have a certain beauty, these hills weren't exactly welcoming to most people. Especially carpenters, but also anything that would eat grass or trees. These were parts of the hill itself, after all.

Moving my horse was easy. The caravan was circled with everyone huddled inside their carts for safety. Yes, our plan did not include the caravan. More on that later.

The route off of the hill was a bit more complicated. The hill itself needed energy to move, and it would typically consume people and animals along its path. I could have just said animals, but the people part is also important. Just as on Earth, people were just animals that recognized themselves and others of their own species. And like animals, served as food for some other creatures in certain circumstances. Like this one.

There would be no fighting during our escape. My uncle made that clear in order to gain his help. But, we would have to make a sacrifice in order to appease the hill. This was not the caravan. The hill insisted my horse was to be the sacrifice. It saw my horse as the reason its child was no longer alive. But, my aunt also silently insisted my horse not be the sacrifice, and vowed to secure his safety. He was her child after all. Which is really funny to think about it. My horse is also my step-son. In a weird sort of way.

But, this false-sacrifice was only known to half the gods, give or take. The ones that would be needed to pull the switch. In order for my horse to become the sacrifice, it was secured that we would take my horse, on his cart, off of the hill. This was to secure our safe travel. Once we were on real ground, we would be safe from the hill in any regard. They aren't fast. We would then leave my horse next to the hill, so it could scoop him up with its tentacles.

Now, the part the hill didn't know about. You may remember me saying there was a lack of streams and creeks when we were traveling with the caravan. Hearing about the lifecycle of the hill may have given you a clue, but any running water would tear the hill apart. My aunt? The goddess of rain? Well, you can probably guess how much she likes these hills. And, you may have already read about the amount of rain she can produce. This is distraction number one. The weather isn't really predictable. Even here.

Hills are also not very aerodynamic. While this may play a small part, but a large amount of wind mixed with rain isn't very nice to hills either. A nice multiplying affect. And, really, both of these are merely distractions for the main part. Yes, turning my horse to stone. Hills are made of small particles. Sand. They can tear apart an animal, but have a much harder time against stone. True, they will wear at its surface, but it takes quite some time. Grab a harder, denser version of stone, and the scratchy part withers in effectiveness. This last part would take time, even with a couple gods working their magic.

So, now you see the stage is set. My horse is on his cart, and the hill is advancing toward him. In the time between two meals, he will be swallowed. It's already dark out, with the moon shining over the landscape. The clouds roll in, darkening the scene. The rain starts. Slowly at first. We move a ways away and make camp, just as we would for any rainstorm. But, we already know which way the wind will be coming from. As the rain intensifies, it becomes difficult to see.

Now, the priests move in from the opposite side of the hill. I joined them. As we reach the cart, I place my hand on my horse. To be fair, the hill really can't see, but its god can. And he's watching. Between rain drops. I did entertain a thought of transforming to an eagle, which would take him with me. But, even with the gods behind me, angering a god would be a bad move for me. No, I'm saying goodbye to an old friend and the priests are helping me.

This is where the stone god walks in. A golem is what you'd see. He comes from quite a distance to cover his track. One thing that may be important here is that the stone golems don't like the hills either. They frequently search out hills to battle with them. That's our final cover. The rain doesn't affect the golems, nor does the rain. Soon, a small army of golems appears to distract the hill and its god. I'll find out later that this god carries a grudge. Probably to this day.

But, for now, he's simply crying to nine other gods that the weather is unfair and complaining about the stone golems showing up. Not really noticing he's only complaining to eight other gods.

The priests and I move back to our shelters as the stone god approaches my horse. A towering golem easily twice my height. The god raised his hands, grasping lightning from the air. Remember, lightning in my world was not common, so this was a spectacle. The lightning bounced along his arms, arcing from hand to hand. His fists clenched, shaking in the rain. After what seemed like an eternity, his hands raced down onto my horse. I lost my breath.

Even knowing the stone god wasn't going to hurt my horse didn't prepare me for how this was going to work. Or look. As his hands reached my horse, the lightning spread around and through his body. I saw his muscles stiffen just as the god's hands hit his hide. I would call it a loud thump, but it would compete with a thunderclap from a lightning bolt hitting next to your foot. Deafening doesn't describe the sound. A sound that burrowed deep into my soul, through my body, reverberating.

The rain strengthened. The wind began dancing.

A whisper entered my mind. Quickly intensifying in strength. Hill is food.

My horse was back.

Reunited

I did just mention, a few days ago, I know, that the children of gods grow at accelerated rates. You may be wondering about my growth. It wasn't as fast as my daughter's, but it was indeed faster than others of my look-a-like race. Typically, growing from an infant to sexual maturity would take around twenty seasons, give or take the god's whims with seasons. Again, this is why we didn't really track time, that and it wasn't really necessary. Most people really didn't pay attention to their rapidly growing child, simply believing it was due to their superior parenting. Does this sound at all familiar in your life?

For me, the time from infant to small child, mostly independent, was about twice as fast. But, my aging took a big leap after getting speared by a giant eagle. I can only say that due to my own interest in Leyan, and that was about thirteen seasons based on what Elysha mentioned. He didn't know about my interest in Leyan, only that I was being taken to a ship.

What about my horse? Well, he doesn't know, and I didn't know him until he tried to fry me alive. He says that was a little test. I'm not quite sure that was completely true. My daughter? Well, I mostly believe she was created in much the same way I was. My aunt, the rain goddess, wanted a child to complete a mission, so she found the perfect man for the job. And didn't bother to let him know. But, then she found a nice family to carry that child. It was typical, or really still is, for a god to take the child after maturity for their mission. They would carve a life that included the necessary training before that time, but the real training was later. What wasn't typical was how my daughter had been taken shortly after her birth.

One of the priests tried saying that it was actually the goddess that carried the baby. I dismissed that rumor quickly. Even though the gods will create whatever body suits them for the day, they typically carry the same body over a mortal's life. I guess it makes them easier to relate to. Some will even adding aging marks, like gray hair, to further calm the mere mortal. Don't buy that, either. You may see a old, frail man, still quite magnificent and good-looking, but still frail, but that really is a god with all the power you'd expect from a god. To be fair, I've never seen a goddess take on such a body. Old appearing gray hair, yes, frail body, no. They kept their youthful bodies, and just disguised their hair. Some would call it vanity, but if you had the choice, what would you do?

As I write this memory down, the most recent event was my horse turning to stone. At least, the most recent event before this memory. The most recent event was a celebration of a birthing event on Earth. The weekend before was a single day set aside for celebrating mothers. One is acceptable, the other is insulting. If you can only spare a single day a year for your mother, you probably should crawl back into some dark cave somewhere. Don't let any amount of advertisement tell you otherwise.

This memory is a short time after my horse getting his final form. At least, what I know to be his final form. He very well could be beside me currently, and I would have no idea. Telepathy apparently isn't common on this planet, which is both a shame and a blessing. There were many times a stray thought would be projected to someone nearby. I can imagine how long it would take humanity to acclimate to that kind of occurrence.

Armor was no longer necessary for my horse, but riding gear was more necessary. The harder the stone, the less friction it gives. Especially after being polished by a hill. He didn't seem to mind the gear, but argued against using nails to attach it. Coward.

My five friends had returned to Elysha's town instead of the eastern temple, leaving me with my horse and a few priests. You'll read about those adventures at a later time, but for now, this is the crew I'm arriving with to the eastern temple. You may also recall some, well, less than happy people that were around when I'd last left that temple. They were still around, but much fewer in number. I could once again travel freely in that state.

Part of the riding gear, okay most of it, was used to disguise my horse's gemstone appearance. We thought we were being clever in not trying to stand out. At least any more so than a man of my size sitting on a horse of that size would stand out. I also made sure my armor was clean and glistening for my return. Part of my routine of polishing my armor and weapon every night. Sometimes in the morning, too. These days, my armor was mostly a metallic color, not unlike stainless steel. That had been polished for a few seasons. I only mention this since my armor could change colors. It liked this color at this time, and for quite a bit of time, really. I will admit it was quite striking.

As we approached the temple grounds, a group of children were learning around the trees at the gate. These trees were some of the oldest in the area, and some were living. The living trees would often let people know how to know if a tree was sentient or just an imposter. Harming a living tree usually didn't fair well for those wielding the harm. I'm not sure if they taught about the trees on the living hills. I obviously didn't retain that knowledge if I'd been taught.

One of the girls stood out to me. She was a bit larger than most the other children, with light colored hair. I watched as we rode by. It wasn't my daughter. I really never cared for talking with instructor-priests. They tend to hold their knowledge above everyone, and I also tend to tune them out after just a few moments. Maybe I had been warned about living hills and trees.

After sitting down with the children and recounting an adventure over a meal for their entertainment, I set off for the temple. My daughter was waiting in my room. She had finished her studies as assigned for all children. And, taken a few of the transformative studies for children becoming adults. Aside from the normal body changing studies, these included how to navigate and deal with the world in general. How to buy things in different states, what different states demanded in return for residence, and how to not get killed.

All were very good things to know, especially the last point. My daughter's answer? Have me as a daddy. Go figure.

Not My Training

I can say this wasn't training intended for me, but that may be wrong. My daughter was big, and smart, enough to begin weapon training. And a bit on how to weave the threads of magic. She really enjoyed the latter part of that. Maybe a bit too much.

I showed her how to heal, but it would take better weavers than I to teach more advanced weaves. Weapons. That was more fun. And, of course, there was the non-weapon combat that everyone should know. Healing was very important for learning weapons. And teaching.

You may be curious about my daughter and what she looked like. You shouldn't be. I can tell you what my memory says, but that wouldn't be realistic. I'm pretty sure we weren't humans. But, she was as tall as the average male of our species, so quite a bit taller than the average female. Don't ask about beauty, all dads will say the same thing. You can take for granted that she was fit and quite strong. Her hair was similar to mine in color, but more hair-like and less feathery.

How strong? Much stronger than the average male. Stronger than most men, really. But, that was typical for demi-gods. Elite strength without the look of bulging muscles. Just fit. One thing you could also say was that if you looked without reference, she'd look just as proportioned as anyone.

If you've taken your dose of sodium, you would realize she stands out in a crowd. And, she was still growing. While mostly mature and likely capable of starting a family, it'd be a few seasons before her growth was complete. Very similar to humans. At least that's what my memory says. I find it strange how my memory has many human-like traits for a world so far away.

Curiosity had gotten to my five friends. They arrived within a season to the eastern temple. Naturally, they said there was a mission that I may be interested in. By this time, my daughter was competent with maces and javelins. But, she didn't have a good weapon of her own, nor any real armor. Just some basic leather made from clothes she'd outgrown. Recently.

I checked the map in my leather bag. It was blank. My daughter grabbed it from my hands, and her eyes widened. It was no longer blank. I didn't see anything, but she described the symbol and location. Not too far away was a piece of armor. Not in the same cave I had visited several times, but in the southern desert. It sounded like the symbol wasn't glowing yet, so it wasn't something we had to attend immediately. That was my opinion. I was in the minority.

I did convince everyone to wait for the cooler season at least. It would give me time to teach my daughter some sword techniques. Now, the map showed me a symbol. It wasn't urgent, but at least it was on the way. If we went west instead of south. The mission my friends had made up? It was also west. We had a plan. My plan was nightly training.

We grabbed a couple priests and set off to the west. After stopping off at a saddler. My horse wanted both of us to ride, saying my daughter shouldn't ride one of those toy horses. It was probably a good thing those toy horses weren't telepathic. At least, I don't think they were.

There wasn't much excitement on the western journey. It was only a few days away, and we followed a creek. It was something we had decided after the more recent events. Always follow water. I'm not sure how traveling in the desert was going to fair. Along with the wooded hills, there were also sand hills that were living. Thankfully, I never found one of those. That I know of.

The mission my friends thought was so urgent? Helping harvest a field for a friend that had been injured. My daughter decided it would be better to heal the person. Which is a kind thought, but missing just a bit of tact in her approach. She was all to eager to try out her healing magic, but the priests reined her in while the six of us tended to the field. Not much of a hero's quest, but all deeds get paid in time.

The quest symbol for me was not far, but a bit more than a little harvesting. There was an not-so-famous quilter located in the nearby town. We pulled the cart from the harvest into town, and visited the weaver. I had no idea what I was in for.

This weaver had heard of a special thread. She called it sentient thread. Like many old tales, it was mostly dismissed. But, she had spent her life looking for this sentient thread. And, she thinks she found it. But, she was not fit to actually retrieve it from where it grows. She had hired many that had tried, most returned empty handed. The others never returned.

Normally, I would grin and nod, being one of those that went out to retrieve the thread and return some time later empty handed. Not because I couldn't find the thread, but I would usually get distracted by a random breeze that took we elsewhere. This time would be different. My map said so, and my darling daughter insisted on helping this old lady.

You may be curious about sentient thread. Yes, it was said to contain the same magic that allowed my armor and weapons to speak. Magic not created by man or wizard, but Drak-Bar himself. Or, just the land. Or a god. This is the kind of magic that was nearly perfect and impossible to replicate. No one ever took credit for actually forging my gear. It simply appeared. And my mother and her siblings are part of that no one.

Sentient thread would be something a little more special. In a way. It could be fashioned into any type of clothing, which would then contain that type of magic. What it would do was beyond most people's wildest imaginations. So they say. I say imagination can get quite wild.

How far away was this location? Very. You remember where I first met my daughter? There. It'd be a season or so of travel. So much for heading south for the cool season.

Growing Up So Fast

It's amazing how fast kids grow. It seems they go from a tiny little package with a head fit for your hand and feet on your upper arm to a jumping and running tornado in no time. Even without god DNA. Or, well, maybe there's still some there?

The last section in this page was a mission my daughter and I took on to find some special thread. And, that's what this section is about as well. Mostly.

After some time, and very little excitement, we found our way to the western mountains. As we'd traveled, my daughter grew. Then stopped growing. Aside from myself, she was the tallest person in our group. And there were only two other women, both priestesses. And fantastic cooks, healers, twig weavers, and just about anything else not requiring strength they didn't have. My daughter wasn't very good at any of these to start, but she did take a liking to cooking. As long as she could use magical fire. The real stuff was too boring.

There were also a few mages along for the ride. They taught my daughter a few new knots to tie, and this is when they started to understand how many of the threads she could really see. She continually mentioned colors that left them speechless. When they couldn't answer the question, there was usually a comment about finding out what it is. Followed by some random occurrence. Sometimes, the dirt would form a mound, sometimes a tree would start following us. And, sometimes, someone would disappear. Only one was somewhat permanent. But, we found him many seasons later, no worse for wear.

You're probably having similar thoughts to my own. Would all this magic weaving turn her into a wizardly blob? Her fingers never showed any damage, which was always the first sign. In fact, my own fingers looked much worse after a simple warming spell to drive away the damp cold than hers did after having half the forest follow us. Maybe not quite half, but it certainly felt like the forest was moving with us along the path. For a very long time.

But, as we approached the valley I previously called the Valley of the Heart, my daughter's excitement began to wane. The only time she'd been here, she was a little baby. True, she was a toddler by the time we'd made it where she started feeling strange now, but she shouldn't have had memories from here.

We pushed on, with her stating she was okay. What I would find out later was that she could hear the voices in the valley. They were all welcoming, but odd at the same time. I heard no voices. Aside from the normal ones, anyway.

When we reached the entrance, most of the color had left her face. She was indeed very nervous, or simply terrified. I felt no danger.

That last sentence may need some context. As part of my training, I was made aware about an extra sense that I had been given. I would say sixth sense, but there were many more than that. You may call it intuition, but it was much more robust. And it took a little thought. By this time, an onlooker may say I just blinked for a little extra time. But, that was the amount of thought I needed to read the area and look for danger. It seemed to work well within a few hundred strides, possibly a thousand. But, there was no real way to check. Overall, it was difficult to surprise me...but only if I was paying attention, which may have been an issue a time or two-three-hundred.

We paused at the apogee, looking down into the valley. It looked much the same as I remembered, if a little less wet. And rained on. My daughter took a deep breath and walked into the valley. She'd already memorized the map. Some would say she didn't need maps, but I knew better. After everyone fell asleep, she'd often light a small fire and study the map for the next day. She had an amazing memory for maps, among other things.

There still wasn't a lot of excitement here. The most excitement was watching my daughter fight her internal demons, or whatever she was feeling in this area. What I can say is that I never felt the same about any location I had traveled to. They all felt the same, even if some had a lot more danger present. When I bothered to look.

About half of our traveling army stayed outside the valley. It seemed my daughter wasn't the only one that was slightly worried about what could be inside. I still call it a valley, but I know it was a temple. Just obscured. Yes, this was Rain's temple. There were no priests tending the ground, at least not from the normal sentient species. There were the abundant insect-like creatures, and some other small animals. Those were her priests. There were larger animals, they were the army. Not that she needed much of an army, a rain storm would be enough to persuade just about any army to stay away. If you didn't, you may just wind up with a daughter of your own. Rain had no desire to have a son.

Eventually, we made it onto the same platform where I received my daughter. It was much easier this time. I held back a distance to let my daughter take in whatever she was feeling. The sentient thread wasn't here, we both knew that. It was elsewhere in the temple. But, she was drawn to this platform, and where it led.

Where did the other path on the platform lead? They one I never ventured on before? You may call it a statue room, but there was no statue of Rain. No throne, either. Just the largest tree you can imagine. Its branches started several heights above me. Unreachable without at least twenty people to make a living ladder. I could fly, of course, but that felt disrespectful. The branches reached up into a persistent cloud. It was light and silvery now. Rolling and stretching in every direction.

That's when I felt a rain drop. I noticed my daughter had felt one too. Her face lit up like a child at Christmas looking at a tree dwarfed by presents. The rain started falling more, and her smile just grew.

As did mine.

Where is She

I'm not sure I like that yellow color on this background. White from here on out.

You may be curious about the rain shower my daughter had. Call it an initiation, coming of age. Maybe even acceptance or blessing. In any case, my daughter and Rain had a connection my daughter hadn't felt until this time. She explained it as sharing Rain's thoughts without any effort. I often wondered if it was anything listening to a helmet argue with a pair of boots.

If you need to wrap things up in your mind, the tree in the statue room was the supplier of sentient thread. All of it. As for what it created, that was up to the crafter and wearer. Rain still contended she wasn't the one that created the thread, she only allowed it to grow. My mother contended my armor wasn't made with the thread, either. I never did get an answer, but it may have been a hill.

Quest complete, thread in hand, or backpack. A lot of it. What was next? More boring travel. South. How boring? By the time we reached the southern desert, about half or our followers had left. We still had a fairly large group, but definitely not an army. An army would be too much.

I no longer had to navigate, so I just sat on my horse and daydreamed most of the time. Sometimes just listening to my shield complain about the sun. My armor would complain about being wet. It wasn't the cold season. Just the opposite.

To help us out, we used a small strand of the sentient thread to create a tent. That walked. This took some time, but only a small amount of sentience was needed to make a large tent walk along over us. At least, most of us. As we moved, we would move slightly faster than the tent. Then wait for the part to go by, and tag in behind everyone. I'm sure it looked like a wheel from above. Now that I have that reference. But, it didn't do a whole lot to help with the sun.

After the first day in the desert, there were conversations about making the tent large enough for everyone. I suggested adding a cloud with water.

So, the next day, we walked along with our unmodified tent. And a bunch of sleepy people. It was a long, hot day. This pattern thankfully didn't continue, as the tent doubled in size the next day. But, there was no cloud with rain. But, there was also no sun when it was time for the first meal. A long night. With no moon.

Was this bad? Only if you wanted to see. The tent was folded, with some objection from the tent itself, and we set out under the black sky. There were some stars, and some were fuzzy. You would call them nebulae or galaxies. We called them fuzzy stars. I think.

As we approached the mark on the map, the stars began to move. The fuzzy ones didn't move, but there were others that did move. There was the occasional fireball directed towards those moving stars, but they continued up until they ran out of energy, hitting nothing. So, they weren't eyes. At least eyes that were very close. This continued for at least a couple dozen meals, enough time to be at the correct location on the map.

The land was empty and flat. Unless you count sand, then it was very full. The map even said we were in the right location. But, none of us could sense anything in the area. It was time to sleep.

The sun finally rose from its slumber. Showing us exactly where we were. In the middle of a bunch of sand. There was a chill in the air, which was welcomed, and it seemed the sun didn't have quite the power in normally would during the hot season.

My daughter had perfected her location on the map. She began to dig. Quickly. I didn't know there was magic for digging, but she found it. She didn't bother with a meal, she was too intent on finding her armor. She had outgrown her last set of leather armor, and it looked a bit patchy by this time. I was getting the sense she was done growing. Thankfully. The top of her head was right at my chin. She was the tallest person I knew that wasn't me. This didn't go unnoticed by the men in our group.

By the time I finished my meal, my daughter was completely out of sight. Down. And, you may be wondering if my daughter had a name. The answer is yes, of course. It was about as boring as my own. Moon Rain would be the closest words that come to mind. The eagle part may have been there, but I don't recall many names. So, my daughter it is.

I crawled over the edge of the hole. I could see that she'd started a tunnel. But, didn't bother to leave a ladder. I also knew this was a quest for her. So I waited. And ate my next meal. Then the next. And the next. Then I started looking for a ladder.

A Tunnel to Nowhere

I finally made a ladder, but not before I had a good rest. There were plenty of priests watching over the great hole. As they finished my ladder.

After my first meal, I made my way down the ladder. You may be curious if my daughter had actually not eaten for this entire time. That wasn't likely. She had her own bag full of food. And whatever else she decided to stash away. But, that wasn't important. The sand was still flowing out of the hole and onto the surrounding area. It hadn't stopped.

I would have liked to known about that spell, but it wouldn't have many other uses. I didn't intend to spend too much time in the desert. I much preferred cooler climates. I made my way down the shaft to the tunnel floor. After that, it was just a straight tunnel. For a while, then it started curving. Always left. I felt like she was making a circular search pattern, and had some glimpse of going straight to shorten my path. But, I resisted and continued going in circles. Between meals.

After a half dozen meals, the flow of sand finally stopped. I was hoping this was a good thing. After a couple more meals, I could finally hear footsteps. My daughter was coming back out. Or at least that was my hope. I couldn't see any danger, so I just kept walking.

It was my daughter in her new armor. It certainly fit a lot nicer than the scraps she had been wearing. And, the top of her head was still at my chin. She mentioned something about a weapon. That's about all I remember from that tunnel walk. Aside from the crashing noise. It sounded a lot like the walking sand. But, it wasn't. It was the collapsing tunnel. You can guess by the number of meals I had to eat how long it would take to walk, and we didn't have that kind of time.

Running that far wasn't much of an answer, either. I had some options with my mace, but it would likely mean having to dig it back out later. And hearing about it for a very long time. It turns out, it wasn't up to me to find our way out, as we started running, my daughter got out in front and stopped, her fingers were just a blur. As were the next few moments.

The ground beneath us began to quake, the sand started grabbing our feet. Running was no longer an option. I looked up and the top of the tunnel began to shift and move. I had originally climbed down about four times my own height to get into the tunnel. The sand at our feet began to rise. As we moved up, the sand above us parted to either side. I would call it an elevator now, but then it was like burrowing through the sand like a worm. I could feel the sand scrape against my arms, and my armor let me know it was going to need polished after this.

I could no longer see my daughter, the sand running between us made that impossible. After what felt like an eternity, we jumped above the ground. Way above the ground. This was about the time my daughter made a slight remark that would be something like uh-oh, but with more colorful language. We had cleared the trees when she made her remark, and we hadn't started slowing down. It was time for flying, but I was the only one with wings.

If you're guessing that wasn't a problem, you would be mostly correct. I had plenty of strength to carry someone when I was in eagle form. The hard part was catching her. With talons. But, this is where her armor was going to earn its keep. I swept my wings back to keep the upward momentum she had given us. I had to wait until we slowed before moving toward her. That took some time, and I could barely make out the light from our camp at the height we were at. With eagle eyes.

If we had cell phones, I'm sure I would have told our friends to meet us at our northern town, Elysha's tavern. But, we had to descend back towards camp. Circling round and round as we fell back to the ground. About half way up, my horse decided to see how we were doing. He took my daughter, allowing me to fly a little faster. Not quite as fast as a horse named Moon Racer, but decently fast.

If you're keeping track, we had the sentient thread and my daughter's armor. But, those were only two of the spots on the map. There were more to go.

I still had a feeling I wanted to head to Elysha's tavern, and it was actually on the way to one of the spots. So, we headed north. Under a tent.

A Massive Quest-ion

Elysha's tavern sat empty. The ice was still cold, so that part was normal. He had stated several times that paying the mages for ice was well worth the comfort. Many others preferred to just live with the heat. It flipped in winter, most would build a small fire. Not Elysha. Mage's fire.

That was pretty normal throughout this section of my home world. Most of the time, there were four seasons like you experience on Earth. Sometimes, the transitions were skipped. And, once in a while, it seemed an entire season was skipped. It would remain summer, while the snow covered the northern lands. Or stay winter while the sun blasted the southern desert.

It was warm when we arrived, but nothing like the desert we had recently left. We were down to a few priests and my five friends. The tent was folded away. My horse carried my daughter most of the time. Me, not so much. By now, my daughter had reached full maturity and growth. She hadn't grown since she'd obtained her armor. She did fill out a bit more, much like human women from sixteen to their mid-twenties. Her mind was nearly as mature, but she had moments that questioned her intelligence.

This wasn't one of them. We didn't have telepathy between us, but she could think to her armor, which would then speak to my horse, or armor, who could then think to me. Magic radio, so to speak. Up until this last journey, I would speak aloud to my armor, weapon, and horse. She taught me the thinking part, which did require a type of weave I had a difficult time seeing. Especially after one attempt that ignited a fairly large, and bright, fireball in my face. I did remember that weave. It seemed it could be handy.

The food in the kitchen was well-stocked, so we made ourselves dinner. I replaced food with gold coins, and an occasional golden weapon. We stayed for a day, hoping to see him return. He never did. The locals said he and Leyan had left toward the ocean, but thought they would return soon. It so happened that one of the map dots was toward the ocean.

A couple of the priests stayed behind and tended to the tavern. One of them was also a mage and sensed the ice would need refreshed shortly. A couple of my friends also stayed behind. Something felt odd to them. It was a common feeling.

That left a party of ten, give or take, heading toward the ocean. Is this important? Do you have to ask?

After a couple days worth of meals, it was apparent the dot on the map wasn't exactly staying in one spot. It was moving. The symbol was of a weapon, which made my daughter excited. She enjoyed the swords I'd given her, but was curious to wield something with sentience. She did try my mace a few times, but, without the mind connection, it was just a heavy club to her. My mace never complained, but it didn't seem to happy to not have any connection with her, going so far as to blame me for not being a better father and spreading that connection to her. I'm not sure it understood how gods have children. Or, even animals for that matter. Kill, yes. Create, no. That seemed the limit of its comprehension.

That was another part of the political climate that had changed. If you recall, in my beginnings, wars were fought with almost friendly terms. The goal wasn't to kill your opponent, only make him concede. You could see the switch in my older memories, but that switch was nearly complete. There were very few skirmishes where there would be celebration by both sides afterward. The victor would celebrate by plucking the corpses clean, while those that retreated could do no more than watch, and occasionally launch a surprise attack. As you may guess, the latter rarely ended well for the attacker, even if he was able to slay a few more people.

I didn't really participate in those wars as much, at least not as part of an army. I would occasionally happen by a battlefield, and try to not get involved. Try being the operative word. I failed many times.

And, we're back to the wandering dot. It was an army, maybe a thousand strong. For my world, that was substantial. There were definitely larger armies, but most were smaller. What this army was doing was definitely something we were going to get involved with to some degree. The map said so. To set your mind at ease, Elysha and Leyan weren't here. They had returned to the tavern by this time, as I would be told later.

There was always the spy option. Stay in the bushes and watch the army to see where they were going, and what they were doing. We decided against that. Spies sometimes were considered enemies without any other conversation. So, we rode directly at their back. That's where the commanders usually rode. Why is beyond me. Anyone coming up with a sneak attack had full access to the army's leadership. It was generally given that commanders were off limits for combat, unless they drew a weapon and joined first.

But, we weren't at war. Just a group of ten riding by. We all had horses by this time. My daughter was given the largest horse, but it was still barely half the size of my horse. And, yet, somehow, we managed to startle them as we rode up. It is really a bad idea to charge at a gemstone horse. Especially one with a mage on its back. There just happened to be ten commanders for this army. My party of ten, to be exact. The rest of the army had basically turned with just enough time to see their commanders replaced in the blink of an eye.

After changing horses, I stood on Moon Racer's back to address the army. A few stepped forward to speak for the mass. They were returning from a war in the southwest, in which they were victorious. They had started as four times as many, but the battle turned many boys into men, and the southwest nation was conquered. They had left half the survivors there as defense, and were returning with their prize. An overflowing cart.

I asked if I could inspect the cart, out of curiosity. After all, they were traveling in my nation. It wasn't at this time, but they really didn't know that. All they saw were ten people that had snuck up and slaughtered their commanders.

Yeah. That's a story for another day.

Inspection

You may have noticed by now that I'm not changing background colors as much. This one happens to be the default for the style I chose. It's because of the designer changes. It is nice that I can pick from any of several thousand colors, but remember those color combinations? Not going to happen. Maybe if I were more into web design, it may be different. But, for now, we'll stick with a mildly weirdly colored quilt of a background. Or, you may be able to turn this site into a reader mode. I may look for that option to add, or use your browser. If it has that option.

I was going to talk about inspections. Like that overloaded cart in the previous section. It's possible I'll stick a section between that one and this one, but unlikely. I'll just recall as much of that cart as I can based on where this memory goes.

The traveling army only really caught my attention because of my map. And, it was displaying this army as having a weapon. And, it was apparently intended for my daughter. It would have been extremely unlikely for someone to have multiple sentient weapons. They just wouldn't get along with each other. Yeah, I'll eat those words later.

We really had little interest in the plunder they had pulled from the nation they had just conquered, but that weapon mark seemed to be zeroed in on their loot. As much as I hate taxes, I used them as a guise to get what we were after. The army wasn't thrilled, but they allowed us to look. Allowed may be the wrong word. No, the ten of us weren't going to take down an army this large, and they knew that. But, maybe we could scare them.

As we looked in the cart, which was very large, think of your Earth tractor-trailer, we really didn't see any weapons that would have had the map excited. But, it still insisted that we kept looking. You can make some guesses how long it takes to unload a cart that large. Much more time than it would take for the army to reload, but we had a couple meals during our search. The army seemed friendly, but we couldn't help but notice the circle that had formed.

The ones that had come forward as leaders stayed with us the whole time, making sure we didn't pretax any of the goods. There really wasn't anything that I was really interested in, so it was looking like my tax statement was going to get me useless items.

After the cart was empty, the map still showed for us to look in the cart. Now, on Earth hidden compartments seem to be quite common. They weren't very common for most of my world. Thieves would typically have a bag like mine that could hide several items without anyone being able to find them. To anyone else, my magic bag just looked like a standard leather bag. It took the magic in my own body to open the doorway. But, this cart had a false floor. One of my priests detected a life under the floor. And it wasn't a sentient weapon.

This army had priests as well. Most did now. It was pretty much the only way injured soldiers would be able to leave the battlefield. Once you were healed, you typically would stay out of the battle. The new rules of honor said so. Many soldiers weren't very honorable. But, their priests recognized the life spell cast by my priest, and that's when the weapons came out.

We had been expecting something like that, so my daughter had been weaving a spell with each bite of her meals. Not all spells need to be cast at one time, sometimes, you built a spell over a longer time span. Just like her young mind had decided to do. Being a child of the gods, she was conjuring the only creature everyone would run from. A dragon.

Mind you, it wasn't a real dragon, and really couldn't do much more harm than her fire and ice spells, but seeing such a large beast swoop in would turn the bravest into a scattering roach. The sight and sound of her conjuring was very unnerving, even knowing what she was doing. The army leaders near us were east to dispatch, and we weren't very gentle removing the false floor from the cart.

My horse helped, and took hold of the life inside the bag. He then sped away, seemingly chasing the dragon. He even snorted a few fireballs to make it look good. This also meant I was horseless. There were ten of us on the ground, and nine horses. But, as long as everyone was distracted, it was a good time to take my eagle form and fly as well. I kept sight of my friends, and helped them escape into the woods as the dragon image faded away.

As the army realized they had been fooled, they reorganized and decided to follow. The poor guys.

One thing we didn't count on was that a real dragon would have been fooled by our fake dragon. No, it wasn't Drak-bar, but it was a smaller dragon.

The stories stated smaller dragons were part of the dominant dragon for the world and were tasked with keeping order and alerting the dominant dragon if his attention was needed. Other stories stated the smaller dragons were just the dominant dragon himself, but they would split themselves into many during the rest phase, and recombine when awakened. And others simply thought the smaller dragons were gods that weren't assigned an element of the world. I'm not sure what the truth is on their origin, but I can tell you they were much more powerful than any army. And certainly not the dragons of Earth lore.

From what I can remember, they did have two legs and two arms and two wings. And a big head and long tail. I do make the distinction of arms for two of their limbs. Although they could walk on all fours, they were also fond of bipedal movement. When they weren't flying. And big? Yes. If I could stand on my own shoulders, I may just be able to reach the belly by reaching up.

But, they weren't particularly mean, either. Or active. It was extremely rare to see one. Most lived their life only knowing the stories of some ancestor that once spotted a dragon. But, here was a real one. Flying quite fast up behind me. I had caught up to Moon Racer about this time, and returned to my mortal form. I was impressed that he hadn't lost the limp package that was also alive. For now. It's fairly difficult to determine a dragon's mood, but I was pretty sure this wasn't a happy dragon.

Chasing Dragons

There are worse things you could do than incite a dragon. It may take me some time to think of what that is.

Although I was certain this dragon was angry, it didn't catch up very quickly. Or, it really didn't want to fly into the trees. Naturally, we couldn't fly into the trees either, we had to find a clearing. The others in my party had arrived at the clearing at about the same time as the dragon. He just circled overhead. If I had seen dogs, I would think he was just circling his bed before going to sleep. Too bad he wasn't very tired.

We didn't hear the army following, so we decided to unwrap the hidden life we'd found. The map seemed to think this was the weapon we were searching for. Still. Although it had the wrappings of an adult, it was a small child, no more than halfway to becoming an adult. And sleeping. With nothing more than basic clothing. No weapons, no armor. Just a kid.

If you're familiar with a certain space opera, you may be thinking this is something similar. The child that makes everything balance. Well, that works in fiction.

My priests were able to wake the child enough to give him food and water. After a few minutes, he was able to speak. They spoke for a while, but I won't pretend I was listening. I was still looking for a weapon that my map said was in the area. I didn't know if many parents would give their child a weapon, aside from me, but I would have noticed a weapon on such a small frame. I have no recollection if this child was a boy or girl, it didn't really matter to me at the time, and I don't know if we ever crossed paths again.

What I do know is that this was a child related to the leaders of the country that had just lost a war. And he wanted to go back. So, this memory goes in that general direction.

Back to the dragon. He stayed above us, watching. We were just at the tree line of the clearing, easily visible, and really didn't venture far from the clearing for a couple sleep cycles. The dragon continuously circled. He may have rested when we slept, but it wasn't near us. My shield complained after each sleep about the flying death.

It wasn't until we decided to leave that the dragon landed in the clearing. We had moved in the general direction of this kid's home, when the dragon approached the edge of the trees and told us we were going the wrong way. There was a brief conversation that took place over the next few meals. In the end, we were convinced to return to my mother's temple with the kid. The dragon wanted to go find the army, and we were open to going anywhere else.

There was a question or two about my daughter's faux dragon. The real dragon hadn't seen the fake one, his arrival was just timing. And, of course, he offered no insight into why he cared about this kid. My mother had no idea either, but she also hesitated to get involved with any dragon aside from Drak-bar.

Fast forward a bit to my mother's eastern temple. The weapon did stay with us, and we still had to obtain it. It was only at the temple did anyone bother to ask the kid about a weapon. He said he only had some scrap metal that had been hanging in his home. He had knocked it off a wall when the army invaded, and was trying to put all the pieces back together when he was covered up and taken away.

He then produced the shards from under his shirt, laying them out as best he could remember. There were a few missing pieces, but also enough there to know what it was. Rain's swords. If you've read the future (from here), you already know these will belong to my daughter. At this time, however, they were just a pile of broken bits of metal. And, they only looked like a single sword, not the two they would become.

Now, this kid was a bit younger than my daughter in looks, but older in seasons. And, he was quite enamored with her. By this time, he had realized there really was no reason for him to go home. He understood what an army that size would do to a conquered nation's leaders. His parents. I made him an offer. He could train as long as he wanted, and I would be happy to help him lead an army when he was ready. He nodded through tears as he gave the swords pieces to my daughter.

I would never see him again.

But, the swords would be seen. That little cliffhanger may throw you off a little, but we'll keep going. We haven't caught the dragon yet.

This is where my relationship with Fire comes in handy. And his guilt for roasting my chest from the inside. We would take the pieces to him at his forge. He grinned broadly at their sight. He said he could feel them from quite a distance. They weren't his work originally, he reminded us, as his work wouldn't break like this. But he was happy to show Rain's amateur smith how to put a sword together properly. Twice.

The dragon had followed us. He wasn't really interested in the child apparently. We tried to leave the town, but he insisted we stay. Recovering from a god's punch was bad enough, I didn't want to see what it would be like to be on the receiving end of a dragon's anger. So, we grew some crops during the growing season. And we trained. My daughter learned how to better use two swords. Then learned how to use swords to weave magic.

Earth martial arts likes to use a lot of superfluous motion as a show of skill. Most of these moves do have a place in the art, but are often used as a display. My daughter's sword play when weaving magic looked very similar. Her weapons raced around her body, or the space in front of her, but were never directed at an opponent. Instead, they were slicing and stabbing the magic weave.

After harvest, she received the swords from Fire. If you've seen raindrop Damascus on Earth, put that in motion. Then add color. And sentience.

I was almost jealous.

The dragon? You already know that answer. Have a happy Thanksgiving.