The Legend of Lady Morrighan

              During the Third Year-Age of Mycp, darkness spread across the land. Keleo the Mage, High Voice of King Cartenus, was taken by the Dark and seduced to poison the Mages with the stones of the Dark’s creation. An entire race of great power was turned against the world and none could deny the threat any longer, not even the fickle Gwaeon gods.
              Meholana lay far to the west on the coast of the Rynola Sea. It bordered Porswalla of the Mages which lay to the East and was cut of from Calhron by the Debuta Mountains. Far past the River of Serpents lay the small swamp lands of Yeea. Even they, as protected as they were, were at the mercy of the Mages. The once great race brought a fear that had never been seen before in all the ages since the Creation.

              It had begun with a patrol of ten, it ended with only two. Morrighan, their female commander for whom they had forfeited their lives to save, and Nede, her second in command. They had been slaughtered by the Mages. So close to home…so far from help. Morrighan blamed herself as she crawled away under the brush where she had hidden Nede’s unconscious body and willed death to take her.

              When Morrighan woke again, she was no longer in the world of the living. Or so she thought. Blinding colors swirled through her and disappeared in showers of figures that seemed to be standing around her. “So this is death.” She mused and closed her eyes once more.
                Awake.
              “I’d rather not.” 
              Awake, Child. You have much work ahead of you.
                “I am done with work. I have died and this is my rest.”
              Morrighan felt her eyes open without her consent. She opened her mouth to protest, but found that she couldn’t speak. That is better. Now you will listen as I speak. You are with the Gwaeon and no, you are not dead. We have saved you and thus bought your soul.
              Morrighan’s eyes widened and she felt like grabbing her sword and killing herself…or whoever was talking. However, she was incapable of movement. The voice continued. You and your companion will save Elete for us.
Oh so we are your errand runners? I would have rather died. Morrighan’s mind screamed.
I’m sorry but we could not let that happen.
              Before Morrighan could protest again she fell into the dark pit of unconsciousness.

              Business with the gods is often preferred to death. Or so all the legends said. Having finally met these “gods”, Morrighan was inclined to agree. She had woken a while later with the abilities of sight, movement, and speech restored to her. The room she was in was glorious, white, and perfect, but Morrighan found that she couldn’t care.
                All her being was pressing her to find out where she was…why she was still alive. It was as if her entire body had so resigned itself to death that it believed it truly ought to be dead. She stood on shaking legs and grasped for something to cover herself with as someone had taken her clothes. She wrapped the blanket under her arms, tucked it closed at the top, and held the middle closed with her hand. With her free had she swept her dark hair back behind her shoulders and absentmindedly wished she had something to tie it back with. She took but a moment to glance about the stone room she was in. It’s high ceiling reached up to somewhere past her vision, obscured by a thin layer of cloud. There were no windows or candles in the room, but it was as bright as day, although the light seemed a bit softer than the day she was used to. There were no decorations, but the room needed none. It was gorgeous somehow…glowing faintly blue around the edges of her vision. Suddenly entranced and forgetting her earlier need for knowledge, she stepped out the arch that served as a door into a long hallway that seemed to go on forever in both directions. Morrighan felt slightly overwhelmed as she wondered which way she was supposed to go and how long it would take her to find someone to explain things. She was saved however by a voice from behind her. “We were told you would be impatient. I fear it is futile to tell you to rest.”
              Morrighan glanced behind to see a tall pillar of  green, hazy light. The pillar shifted and spun until a head rested atop the flowing light. Hair…if it could be called hair and not simply light that had the attributes of hair of the purest hue of gold flowed on the green and framed the most glorious female face Morrighan had ever seen. A perfect work of art set with brilliant violet eyes. “You had questions?” the light-woman asked with a small smile gracing her delicate ruby lips.
            Morrighan found her mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out, she swallowed quickly. “Indeed.” She whispered reverently.
            “Please ask.”
            “Where am I?”
            “In Cathra’s Glen. We found you not but five miles from here.”
            A glen and not the sky? All the tales Morrighan had ever heard about the Gwaeon were dashed to pieces. The light-woman laughed with a laugh that sounded as if all the waterfalls in the world were flowing down to hit giant silver bells and wash off into the sea. “We live on the ground, yes. I am aware that the legends paint us to be sky-dwelling. I am sorry that it is not so. Now I suppose it would be more efficient if I just told you everything you needed to know. It would save us both a bit of time. You were close to death when we found you and your friend—the knight fellow—was indeed quite dead—“
            “Nede is dead?”
            “I did not say that. I said he was dead; he is no longer in such a state. We healed both of you in accordance to the will of the Prophetess. It was she who told us where to find you. You are destined to save the dragon.”
Morrighan’s eyes grew wide so the light-woman elaborated. “The prophecy states that a woman who commands men will be servant to the gods and receive a power beyond her reckoning. We, as gods, are not as all-powerful as most mortals believe us to be. There are places we are bound from. One such place is where they have taken your last hope. You have heard the legends of dragons, yes?”
         “Yes.”
                “They were said to be all hunted down by the Sltuykars—men who sold their souls to the Dark Magic and were ordered to hunt down all pure magic—during the beginning of the Mage Wars. But this is not true. One yet remains. The oldest of a long and noble line of dragons, finding him could very well mean an end to the war. His power is great, but the longer he remains in their grasp the more our hope dies. We cannot fight this great evil alone. We need the dragon, Elete. You are the one who is destined to save Elete. You and the knight you call Nede."

              Morrighan heard little after that. The shock of everything took its toll on her body and she fainted.

                Castorga…the land of death and the entrance to the bowels of hell. The island appeared on the horizon as Morrighan looked out of the prow of the ship. Three short days ago she was normal, she was mortal, she was alive…well she was alive now, but it was an in-the-debt-of-the-gods kind of alive. Nede, her dear friend and comrade stood beside her, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. She recalled seeing him alive again in Cathra’s Glen for the first time. He had taken longer to adjust to the news than she had…although he hadn’t fainted. He squeezed her shoulder ever so slightly, but Morrighan barely noticed, her mind mulled over what the goddess had told her.

              “Magic runs through your being. It is an uncommon thing for a mortal daughter of man, but it will be helpful to you.”
              “How can that be? There aren’t any mages in my family history.”
              The goddess smiled secretively. “Perhaps there are…perhaps it is a gift from another god. I know not. Use it well and beware the taint of Castorga’s dark magic.

                They docked on a rocky beach and surveyed the rocky, red landscape. In the distance was a mountain range. “We ought to head for the mountains.” Nede mused. “I see no where else we could go.”
The air held a horrid stench and Morrighan found it hard to breathe, let alone speak. She tied a strip of cloth from the pack the Gwaeon had given them—along with their new armor—around her mouth and resolved herself to ignore it.

              They journeyed until a cloud or darkness—that could only be night—fell upon them. On the cold, rocky ground, Morrighan sat, curled in her torn cloak feeling even worse than she had on the sea—she had found she was slightly sea-sick upon the ship. Nede was sitting across from her, chewing doggedly on a piece of dried meat. “Morrighan, you cannot starve yourself.”
         Morrighan glared at him, a bit annoyed with her own illness and his question and answered quickly, “I would eat, if I could.”
         The air! She spat on the rock, trying to rid her mouth of the terrible taste.
         “I am sorry.” Nede said after a moment. “I do not know or understand what you are feeling.”
         Nede was unaffected by the stench and had been musing that Morrighan’s sensitivity had something to do with her magic.
         She nodded sadly and touched his shoulder with a shaky hand as to say she forgave him. “Sleep, I will take the first watch.” Nede ordered gently.
         Emphatically she shook her head.
He realized that she didn’t want to sleep on the hard rock in this strange land anymore than he did. “But we have to keep strength.” he argued.
         After a short battle of head nodding and shaking and some pointed observations from Nede, it was decided that Morrighan would sleep first with Nede at first watch and somewhere when Nede felt tired, he would wake Morrighan for second watch. Nede watched the woman curled up in her cloak, her armor and the ground making it hard for her to stay still. Tomorrow. he promised. Tomorrow they would rescue the dragon and leave as quickly as they could.
         A little after daybreak, Morrighan, who relived Nede of his watch not but three hours earlier, blinked into the faint sun that was obscured by heavy, rain-laden clouds. She shook Nede’s shoulder and he groaned wearily. “No training could prepare me for sleeping like this.” he complained.
         Morrighan gave him a slightly annoyed look and stood, pointing to the east, where the mountains drew ever closer. He nodded, wishing she would talk but knowing how much it pained her to do so. “Onward to the east.” he said, gathering his pack and cloak and standing stiffly. “A good walk will loosen our stiff muscles.” he reminded a limping Morrighan.
         The woman smiled. Or at least he thought she smiled. It was hard to tell, since her lips were still hidden behind her cloth mask. They traveled far that morning and around early afternoon, the storm hit. It was a storm of unearthly magnitude. Lightning flashed behind and struck a rock not but six feet away. Nede pushed Morrighan and himself to the ground. Lightning flashed about the clouds, illuminating the low rocky ground around them and the swirling red dust picked up by the growing wind. “We can’t go on. We’ll get struck by the lightning!”
         Morrighan stared at him evenly. “We cannot stay here either.” it was the first words she had spoken since the night before and he found that her voice was rasping and her words were spoken slowly.
         “Is it--?”
         She nodded. “I can still taste and smell the evil. If that is what it is.”
         “Try not to speak. Come, let us hurry. The Mountains cannot be but a mile or so away.”
         They ran. Only by the grace of the Creator did the lightening not strike them. They reached the mountains after an hour of running. Morrighan fell to the muddy, rocky ground. She was soaked through and felt as if she would never know warmth again. “Come, we are nearly there!” Nede was urging, pulling her up beside him.
         She shivered violently and looked up at him. Her eyes plainly said that she was miserable.
         “You are a warrior, for Cathra’s sake! Act like one!”
         His words stung,  but she knew he was right. She bit her lip and commanded herself to stop shaking. “Come.”
He grabbed her hand and drew his sword. They looked about and saw an entrance. “I believe this is the tower fortress in which the dragon is imprisoned.”
         Morrighan had to admit that it made sense. She nodded. “Guards.” she croaked.
         It was Nede’s turn to nod, but he added a smile as well. “I do believe it is time to rescue a dragon!”

         The door was little more than a fissure in the rock. They couldn’t get through with their armor, so they took it off and took turns going in. Nede went first and after he found his way through to a large chamber--which was not but five feet through the fissure, Morrighan passed the armor through to him and she herself went. Upon entering the small chamber they put their armor back on and looked around. There was a closed door to their right. A magnificent work of art in gold, twisted into the form of something Morrighan didn’t recognize at first. She had never seen it, but her new awareness knew what it was. “A dark mark.” she managed to say.
         They had only heard on dark marks in tales of old. They marked the paths to death that led to the bowels of hell itself. And legend said that the paths to death were on the island of Castorga. Morrighan cursed herself for not thinking of it before. The stench, she realized, should have clued her in. It was pure evil and this was a path to death, and they were truly on the mysterious island of Castorga. The stench and feel of darkness was worse here. Morrighan, who had thought being magic sensitive to be something terribly special and would have given her right hand to be magic sensitive, suddenly found herself wishing to be normal again. She wanted to tell Nede, but the word ‘Castorga’ would not leave her tongue.
         Nede said it for her. “This is Castorga?”
         She nodded.
         “Then this really is a path of death?”
         She nodded again.
         “There is no other door. We should leave and find another way in.”
         Morrighan didn’t answer. A plan had been forming in her mind. Surely there were ways out of the paths of death. Other doors. Perhaps a door to life. She wasn’t willing to go out into the rain again, but his plan could be as suicidal as standing out in the middle of the rocky ground and waiting for lightening to strike. They had no other choice, really. “The door.” she whispered hoarsely.
         “But that’s death!”
         She glance pointedly at him as if asking him for a better plan. Finally, he sighed and took her cold hand in his own cold, calloused one. “If you think we can.”
         “I do not.” she managed. “I hope.”
         He had to smile. “Then we shall try.”          
         He and Morrighan pulled the gilded handle of the door. Morrighan tried to ignore the prickling pain in her hand as it touched the cold, blistering metal. She knew it was evil and wondered if this was a good plan after all. They opened the door and stared into the darkness on the other side. “Light?”
         He shook his head. “Can you not use magic?”
         She hadn’t thought of that. She frowned a bit and wondered if it was wise to use magic when she was neither a mage nor trained to use magic. But the situation was dire. She closed her eyes and held out her free hand. Golden light blossomed on her small, scarred hand. She opened her eyes and looked at Nede. He was staring at her hand with some wonder. “Hurry.” she croaked.
         The stench was worse now. Morrighan felt her eyes watering. “Door.” she choked on the word. “Look.”
         He squeezed her hand that he still held and followed the illuminated walls with his keen eyes. They walked for what seemed like hours until they came to an even larger golden door. “Do you think--?”
         Morrighan frowned and touched the door. There was no pain, no terrible feelings. “Open.”
         He pulled the handle with all his might and it swung open to reveal a wide, long hall. It was empty, but it had no been empty for long. Morrighan felt traces of the evil that inhabited this fortress. They had been there perhaps an hour or so ago. Both glanced around the hall and saw stairs. “Would he not be in a high tower?” Nede questioned, drawing his sword again.
         She thought for a moment before shrugging. “Try.” was her simple enough answer.
         Cautiously, they crept through the long hall. Morrighan had a small dagger poised in her free hand that no longer held the light. Her muscles were tense and ready as a spring. They made it across the wide, empty hall and reached the steep stairs. On the walls around the stairs were rich tapestries embroidered with battles long forgotten. All battles lost to evil, she realized.
         Up the stairs a flight of so and they stopped, hearing noises; very normal voices. “What shall we do with this? Damnable creature won’t eat it.” Grumbled the first voice
         “Throw it down one of the Paths. Someone will find it.” Answered a second voice.
The first voice muttered a curse under his breath and they heard him stalk away. Morrighan and Nede exchanged looks. They were close. These were the Sltuykars!
         Nede had a plan before Morrighan did. “Do you think you can see how many there are inside?” he asked.
         She frowned. “Maybe.”
         “Try.” he begged, squeezing her hand gently.
         She nodded and closed her eyes. She imagine her eyes away from her, in the room. “Two.” she whispered. “Weapons...strange weapons. Stairs on the left.”
         She pulled back and spat on the stones. The air was getting worse. “What other choice do we have?” Nede questioned.
         “None. Pull left. I’ll cover.”
         He nodded. Take out the one nearest the door, if something went wrong, they’d flee in the right direction...or at least he hoped it was the right direction. Morrighan drew her sword and arched a thin eyebrow. Nede let her hand go and she raised it with three fingers. Two. One.

         They charged into the room. Morrighan saw whips made by dark magic. She fought down the waves of nausea, but she couldn’t see where she was going. She swung with her sword, trying to cover Nede so was locked in combat with the one on the left. Footwork. Cover Nede. Lunge. Don’t hit Nede! She managed to disengage the whip from the man and stopped, her sword to his neck. “Stop or this man dies.” her voice rang out with more words than she had spoken in the past two days. The man and Nede stopped and looked at the glowing figure pale black like a moonlit storm cloud whose sword suddenly slipped, quickly slitting the man’s throat. “He is dead.” Nede said slowly.
         The pale figure spun around and slew the other enemy with a quick sweep of her bloody sword. Nede backed away when the darkness turned to him. As quickly as it had appeared, the darkness fell away and Morrighan could be seen, gasping the wretched air for a breath. She looked paler than usual. “Morrighan?”
         “Magic. From the whip.” she croaked, producing the handle of the whip in her other hand.
         “That was dark magic.”
         She ignore him and started up the stairs.

         Elete was as proud as any dragon could be. They were an ancient race. Older than the Mages...even older than the Meholanians. But they were a dying race as well and that fact alone was enough to diminish some of the old creature’s pride. He wasn’t overly large for a dragon. Hardly so. He was more like an oversized garden lizard. His head was long and angular set with sapphire eyes, two large nostrils, and a large mouth that hid broken, yellowing fangs. His deep red skin was crusty from age and its golden shimmer was fading from the torture of Castorga. The ruby prongs on his back were bloody, some were torn out. His two tails were chained together in such a way that the spikes on them impaled his own skin. Despite all this, he remained in fair spirits, given everything that had happened to him. He had just refused dinner. A noble act, but one he would regrettably pay for later. He gave a heaving sigh and was saddened to see he could longer produce smoke from his nostrils. How had lost the ability to breathe actual fire nearly a century ago. He was stuck in a tiny cage feeling closer to death than he had in year, which was saying something for dragons since they were naturally determined and rarely gave into self-doubt or thinking about death, when a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. He gave little heed to the figure. People often came up those stairs. Normally to torture him. “Elete?”
         The voice was a hoarse woman’s voice. He could smell magic in the air. Pure magic slightly tainted by dark.
         He turned.

         Morrighan had never seen a dragon. There were few pictures of them in the story books. And what was drawn had most of the creature in shadow, given to the fact that many people simply did not know what a dragon looked like. Morrighan had to admit, her first sight of a dragon was rather disheartening. He looked terribly old and  beaten. He was a fading red-gold with a few red prongs on his back. His gold and red wings were tied to his back with chains and his sapphire eyes were clouded with regrets of the past. “Elete?” she asked, trying to ignore the air.
         The dragon turned to fix his sapphire eyes on her. “Who is asking?”
         “M--” she gagged and dry retched before continuing. “Morrighan Calhron ab Arel.”
         The dragon looked sympathetic. Or at least she thought it did. “Ignore it. You’ll get used to the stench soon enough. Why are you here?”
         “To save you.” she managed without gagging.
         
         Elete snorted in an annoyed fashion and might have responded in a way expected of a cranky, tortured, old dragon, but another person came up behind the girl. He was tall and noble-looking. Like a knight of old. He had dark hair that was soaked with sweat and wore the same strange armor as the girl. “And who is he?”
         The man opened his mouth to answer, but Elete stopped him. “I asked the girl!”
         “Nede Calhron ab Kerthan.” she gagged and dry retched again.
         The boy known as Nede, grabbed her arm. “She cannot talk here.” he protested.
         “She will get used to it.” the dragon said impassively.
         The boy was holding the girl tightly with one arm as she tried to get a hold of herself. Elete was no one’s fool. They were close, this boy and girl. “Damnable, yes. The stench is awful. I nearly thought I would die when I got here. As you can see, I am still very much alive.”
         The boy muttered something under his breath which the dragon’s sharp hearing caught. “This had better be worth it.”
         “Worth what, boy? Saving me is worth something? Could have fooled me I have been here since probably before you were born.”
         “We were sent by the Gwaeon to save you. Why they want you is beyond me.” Nede said angrily, still holding Morrighan, who was having a hard time not retching her insides out.
         “The Gwaeon, you say? Hmmm. Must be important if they want me.”
         “The Mages are evil.” Nede explained quickly. “They were deceived by Keleo and given stones that corrupted them and amplified their powers. The stones probably have dark magic in them as well.”
         “Keleo you say? Was not he that boy who was the high voice for that king?”
         “Cartenus is dying...or he might even be dead now.”
         “Sad thing.” the dragon ‘tisked’.  “What about that daughter of his…Ana?”
         “The princess was killed by Keleo.”
         The dragon frowned deeply. “Now this is a mess. Perhaps I can forgive the Gwaeon for forgetting me until now.”
         “How do we get you out?”
         “There is no ‘we’ boy. Only she can get me out.” the dragon was looking pointedly at a very miserable Morrighan.
         “Morrighan? But how and why?”
         “She has Mage blood. She may be a mortal, but she possesses a hefty load of magic in her. I can smell it from here. It almost overpowers the stench. As for how, well, only she will know. Creator knows I haven’t been able to figure anything out.”
         “Morrighan?” Nede wrapped his arm around the woman—who after she had ceased talking, went into a exhausted trance-sort-of state—and looked down at her.
         She glanced up at him. Her eyes, clouded with black, closed as she lost consciousness. Nede frowned. “Elete, I think...I think Morrighan used the whip. It had dark magic. She turned into something. Black light and killed the guards on the floor below.”
         Elete groaned. “Bring her over here.” he sighed. “If I still had fire I could help her easily, but this will be tricky.”
         “What can I do?”
         “Do you love her, boy?”
         Nede stared evenly at the dragon for a moment before answering, “Yes.”
         “Then do whatever I say.”
         He nodded, feeling slightly wary at those words. “Build a nice little fire. I have some wood and hay for you. They don’t take it out anymore since I stopped being able to produce fire.”
         Nede quickly made a tiny fire. “Bigger, boy. Hurry! Those Sltuykars come and check on me every hour!”
         He gathered the scraps of food and made the fire bigger. “Good, good.” the dragon praised. “Now stick your sword in the fire.”
         Nede did so. “Wait until it glows red.”
         “But the fire isn’t hot enough. It will take too long. The Sltuykars—“
         “One problem at a time!” the dragon roared. “A little patience never killed anyone. I have been patient here for ages! And look where it’s gotten me! Two half-grown warriors who have no idea what they’re doing!”
         “Sorry.” Nede grumbled, watching his sword. “It’s not turning red. I told you the fire is not hot enough.”
         The dragon swore irritably. “Boy, you try my patience!”
         Nede glared at the dragon. “I thought you were patient.”
         The dragon only growled at that. “We shall have to do this the old fashioned way.” He ordered. “Grab her hand. That’s it. Now, put your free hand in the fire.”
         Nede glanced once at the dragon before thrusting his hand in the flames. “Maybe you do love her.” the dragon mused.
         “Now what?” Nede gritted his teeth as the flames ate at his skin. He wanted nothing more than to encase his hand in ice, but he couldn’t of course.
         “Do whatever you do to show that you care for her. She has to have a will to get the dark magic out. I told you this was the old fashioned way!”
         So Nede kissed her.
         She moved slightly and he broke away. “Morrighan.” he whispered.
         “Hmm?” she blinked and opened her eyes. Her face regained some of its former color. “Nede? Why is your hand in the fire?”
         He smiled slightly and took it out and stood calmly. He glanced over at the dragon who was grinning like only a dragon can. “Nede! You’re hand!”
         He shrugged, tore off a strip of his cloak and wrapped it around his burned, raw hand. “Well, Lady Morrighan?”
         Morrighan looked over at the dragon. “You need to help me get out. I don’t know how long your friend can pretend his hand isn’t killing him, but it can’t be too long.”
         Nede tried to smile, but it came out a grimace. Thoroughly confused, Morrighan glanced from one to the other. “What happened?”
         “I will explain later. Now just get me out!”
         “How?”
         The dragon slammed his head in the bars and gave a very irritated sigh. “Weren't you listening? Well, I suppose you weren’t since you were occupied at the moment. Well now, if I knew how to get out, believe me, I would have been out ages ago. You know how to free me, so do it!”
         Morrighan was frowning and thinking when Nede heard the footsteps. “They are coming.” he warned.
         The dragon muttered a curse in another language. “Now is not the time to wait for an epiphany! Try everything!”
         “I do not know anything!” Morrighan shot back with a glare.
         “Think of freedom!”
         They were coming very close now. Surely they had heard the raised voices. Morrighan thought of freedom. What was it? She was free from the Mage patrol that had once seemed so terrifying to her before. Why was she free? Well because her own patrol had given their lives to see it happen. She was free of the whatever had taken hold of her body when she found the dragon. Why? Well, of that she wasn’t quite sure. She knew it had something to do with Nede and fire. But she hadn’t really asked yet. In both cases someone had sacrificed something for her. So it could be as true as it had been more. She had to sacrifice something. Men were coming up the stairs now, but Morrighan didn’t truly comprehend them. Nede was running toward them, his sword raised; a good hand and a bandaged hand clutched the sword. Elete was yelling something. The foul-mouthed dragon was probably telling her to hurry. She wanted to, but she felt rooted to the moment. She had to sacrifice something. She couldn’t think of anything important. Surely not her life. Human sacrifices were only practiced by the Dark Magic. Except in the special case of her patrol. So that left her out...and Nede. She admitted he meant something to her. Beyond that of a friend and fellow soldier. She smiled slightly as she watched him fighting the enemy. He was brave. Sacrifice your magic. Surely, in the past she would have given anything to possess some form of magic. So she could give it up. She willed all her magic to leave. To go and never return. Tears fell from her eyes as if she had lost a close friend. And the cage opened.

         Much of the battle remained foggy to Morrighan. She knew she had drawn her sword and stepped to Nede’s side, but without her magic, she was simply Morrighan again. Although it had been dark magic that slew the last two enemies. They dispatched the men with a few minor problems and unhooked the chains from Elete’s wings. Then they climbed upon his wide back. Outside an army waited. Morrighan was sliding off Elete, going to face the army. It was dark magic, but she could no longer be directly affected by it. Yes, the spells affected her, but there was no longing for it. She fought through a flood of death itself, her companion, and a dragon on either side. Nede could no longer hold his sword. He had dropped it and was now going out with a small dagger. Blood. Death. Life. It was a cycle oft repeated.

         “They yet live.” Whispered a harmonious voice.
         “Will they awaken?”
         “Soon.”

         Morrighan once again found herself waking from what seemed like death. She idly wondered if she was to make a habit of it. Such miracles were not for mortals to know, but Morrighan had seen two. A hand reached to grab her own, and the woman forced her eyes to focus on the blurry figure sitting beside the bed on which she rested. “Nede.” She breathed. “You live as well!”
         The knight nodded. “We won. Zervrathaer and Elete trapped the Mages. The war is over, but the king and queen are dead.”
         “Is that truly a victory?”
         He smiled sadly. “Life is not made of perfect victories. For now we are free, that is all that matters.” He paused for a moment and then asked, “Will anyone ever remember our part?”
         “Does it matter?”
         “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”


         As it did happen, the tale of Lady Morrighan, told of the sacrifices and the men of Morrighan’s patrol, of Nede’s great bravery and love, and how they rescued the very last dragon in Mycp. But in the end, the true names and places behind a legend never really matter as long as people remember it did, in fact, happen.