Book of Ellagar

Chapter 11: Descent

As they took off, the swamp's whispers faded, replaced by the steady beat of Sageclaw's wings and the rush of wind. The sun was a mere hint in the sky, casting a soft glow that painted the world in shades of blue and grey. The dragon flew with the grace of a creature born of the skies, his movements sure and swift as he carried Ellagar over the vast expanse of water, moss, and bullrushes. They flew for hours, the reedy swamp giving way to scattered hillocks, and dense swamp groves that grew thinner as they approached the dragon barrow and the stone circle.

Ellagar's heart raced as she spotted the ancient mound in the distance, its dark stones stark against the vibrant foliage. The air grew colder, and she could feel the weight of the grave's power, a palpable presence that seemed to push back against her. Sageclaw's thoughts grew more insistent in her mind, speaking warnings of the danger that lay ahead. Yet, she knew she had to continue.

Ellagar interupted his oddly parental stream of concern. "Sageclaw, I know. You have said this a dozen ways now. And I do have some understanding of the peril. Thank you, Great One for your concern. Now I have some questions - ones you have been avoiding."

She felt Sageclaw's thoughts pull back as if he was shutting a door. Then he mentally sighed. "You will just start talking outloud if I close our connection. I should have realized you would abuse this kindness!" His tone was irritated yet also bemused.  She gently rubbed his neck scales as he flew. 

"Why do you let Grandmother compell you? You owe her nothing!" 

His mind went silent, and Ellagar thought he would not answer. "You do not see? You are cousin to us. Not many of the Dragonborn carry Emerald blood in their veins. Grandmother knew we could not refuse to aid you. You - your kind - are too precious to us. " He rambled on now his thoughts flowing freely reciting history and legend. "The dragonborn were created by our progenitors, our gods, to serve dragon-kind. The first dragonborn were intended to be companions, and partners to the great wyrms, the most ancient ones." 

He sighed. "Intentions that soon were lost as the dragonborn became slaves, compelled to serve. Your ancestors then decided they did not need dragon-kind and rebelled. Making their own destiny, instead of the one some ancient dragon thought was suitable." 

"So my kind have a tendency to rip down fate, and make our own path?" asked Ellagar wryly. 

A warm chuckle filled her mind. "Indeed. The gift of freewill is powerful."

She pondered this observation and set it aside as yet something else to understand. 

They landed in a small clearing, the dragon's wings stirring up leaves and dust. The swamp sending her encouragement as they approached the stone circle surrounding the ancient hoard and barrow. The earth itself seemed to speak to her, telling tales of battles long past and the sleeping power that lay beneath. The air was again thick with the scent of decay and ancient magic, making her skin crawl.

She bowed her thanks. Her hand rested on one of his great forelimbs. She turned and then paused asking, "Sageclaw what did you mean when you said your sisters. The ones that fell in battle would not return to the great rebirth?"

The pain in his eyes made her regret asking. "The abominations. Those summoned spawn that the dragon cult, The Wyrm Lords as they call themselves, called from across the planes. Those beasts do not just kill, they eat the souls of those they defeat. Rend them from this world so they cannot return, or move on to another realm. My sisters are now no more than memory."

The horrible finality of that kind of death cut through Ellagar. "I am so sorry, Great One. I did not know." Her words trailed off uncertain how to communcate her sorrow. "But," she paused as realization dawned. "How then is Thelara still alive?"

Sageclaw shook his massive head. "That is why we took her to study. When I said what had happened was not possible, I did not just mean Ardvek's link. Thelara should not have been restored, and yet she was. There are souls of great will, and if the soul has something to anchor it, then it can hold." Sageclaw rambled reciting various scholars and Ellagar suddenly laughed. 

Sageclaw paused offended, "this is not a laughing matter child!"

She quickly offered apolgies. "I am sorry - I just suddenly realized why you are salled Sageclaw. It is not your sage coloring like the herbs, but your love of knowledge. I thought of you as a warrior - and it seems you are a Sage."

He nodded, "Ah." he looked at her, "no one is ever just one thing." He looked at the sun heading toward mid-morning, "Our conversation can wait. You must go now if you are to find what you seek."

She nodded her thanks to Sageclaw and he settled on a pile of rubble to await her return. The stones towered over her, silent sentinels that had borne witness to countless sunsets and moonrises. As she pushed through the vines to enter, Sageclaw's concerned voice spoke in her mind, "Remember, you must exit before sunset!" She knew, yet she was glad for his concern.

Ellagar felt the malevolent spirit from before. It was still awake. She could feel it pacing, restless and hungry, in the shadowy depths of the barrow. The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of voices that seemed to whisper of the dark secrets buried with the black dragon. She took a deep breath, focusing on the warmth of the bracelet on her wrist and the gentle wind that caressed her. She looked at the opening that led down into the cursed hoard below. Staff in hand she willed herself to move forward.

She thought back to Sageclaw's earlier words about an anchor holding a soul firmly. Is that why the ancient black dragon haunted this barrow? Was something holding her here? 

With a whispered incantation, she lit her staff with a soft green glow, the light illuminating the dank stones and the dusty floor. The smell of ancient decay filled her nostrils, and she felt the weight of years press down upon her. The caves had not changed, they remained a tomb for a creature that had once been the scourge of the swamp. The air was thick with the scent of decay and the faint metallic tang of ancient gold and treasures, long forgotten by all but the spirits that now haunted this place.

Why exactly was she here? The word used by Verak when he was clearly possessed "egg-mother" echoed in her mind, a term that she had not heard before that night. Yet it was felt like a title of reverence. Was it like her title of clutch-mother? Or maybe her own title was more like 'mother-guardian of twisting prophecy who dances like a puppet for Grandmother's ambition'? A distant mind sparked at the word Grandmother. Away from the Mother Tree her mind was open, and Ellagar quickly shifted her mind avoiding unwanted conversation. 

She moved forward and Ellagar felt something from below pull at her urging her forward, hinting at secrets that had been buried with the black dragon, secrets that Gran - She - wanted hidden.

The whispers grew fainter as she descended, the light of her staff casting eerie shadows on the damp walls. The air grew colder, and she could feel the malicious presence of the ancient dragon's spirit, stirring in the dark, aware of her intrusion. It was a malevolent force, one that she knew had no love for the living, especially not for those who dared to disturb its eternal rest.

Far away, she heard a mental gasp, and the sharp angry thoughts barely reached her mind, "Ellagar - you should not be there."