Einarrion

by: Kongming

Now we have told of how the Champion slumbered in the volcano, and of how Adara, wandering in solitude, found Einarrion the Mastermind. But we have not told of how Einarrion received the brand of the Flamecaller on his brow, or the battles he fought not against other dragons but against himself. Einarrion was a small dragon, a fae, and his eyes were a flame-like vermilion; and though he dwelt now with Adara in the nameless volcano his heart was still filled with the bitterness of his hatchling years.

With the spring came a breeze that gusted through the Ashfall Wastes, and sometimes the skies were almost clear. Inside the nameless volcano, Einarrion looked out at the sprawling canyons and glowing magma and thought, perhaps I should leave. But there were things to do and Adara was with him, so he stayed and said nothing.

With the summer came the hot still air that turned the Wastes into a seething misery for any dragon that did not have the Flamecaller's patronage. Inside the nameless volcano, Einarrion looked out at rivers of lava that met the dark waters and thought, perhaps I should leave. But there were things to do and Adara was with him, so he stayed and said nothing.

With the fall came the changing of seasons, which spreads its touch on all lands of Sornieth except the Wastes. The rivers of molten rock flowed out to the sea as usual, and the harsh stone was unchanging. Inside the nameless volcano, Einarrion looked upon the Temple to the Flamecaller, nearly finished, and wondered what place he would have in Adara's life. Perhaps I should leave, he thought, and the doubt filled him until he slipped out the cave and flew into the welcoming air.

Perhaps it was the changing of the seasons, which some say fills all dragons with an inner dissatisfaction and a wanderlust that cannot be satisfied by anything other than the open sky. Some others say that it was Einarrion's fear and doubt that drove him to go—for all dragons destined for greatness must, some day, confront what lies within before they face the world. But Einarrion then knew nothing of what others would say of him—all he knew was that he was a small dragon, a fae, alone in a world of fire and danger, and that many perils and many enemies would catch up to him once he had left the safety of the nameless volcano. And catch up to him they did, dragon after dragon wheeling through the sky to chase and attack him as they had since the moment he had broken through his eggshell, and he fought them with cunning first, and tooth and claw if that failed.

Now it was a few days of this when Einarrion came close to the edge of the Flamecaller's great land, and beheld the deep blue pools and swirling sea that is the Tidelord's domain. Here he hesitated, just one leap and swoop away from the beckoning waters, and landed instead of flying on. He was tired and he was uncertain, and his wounds pained him terribly, and for not the first time he found himself wondering what Adara was doing at this moment, or whether she missed him.

"Why do you hesitate?" said a voice behind him, and Einarrion turned to see another fae—small, just like him, with dark scales and wings of a brilliant orange. Her eyes were bright like the sun, and her long tail lashed about as she watched him. "Einarrion," she said. "You have come a long way to stop now."

"I beg your pardon," said Einarrion rudely, for he was suspicious and quick to anger after his long flight and many battles (though none can blame him). "I don't recall telling you my name, but if you really want to start a fight then I suppose we'd better get it over with as quickly as possible." And he began thinking of a plan to evade the other fae.

"I do not wish to fight you," said the other Fae. "Why haven't you flown away already? You could easily have departed by now, child, but you have not."

"I beg your pardon," said Einarrion again. "But I don't think it's any of your business, and I wish to be left alone. Leave or die."

The fae with eyes like the sun stared at him. "Einarrion Fire-born," she said. "Since the moment you were born you have known darkness, and you chase death like the flame chases an object to burn. You are the far-seer, the schemer, the silent watcher in the night with the quick talons. You have become the enemy of your kind, and I know many who hate you; and perhaps you are one of those many, although I know that there is one who loves you, and would miss you if you were gone."

Einarrion thought of the temple to the Flamecaller and Adara alone in the volcano, and a new kind of pain filled his heart. He did not know, then, how the other fae knew of his plight, or how he longed to return to a place he'd wanted to call home. "How do you know of this?" he said quietly, the anger leaving him completely—for he was a dragon who loved rarely but fiercely, and Adara was dearer to him than his own life.

"I have known you since the moment I bade your egg hatch amongst the fires of the eruption," said the fae, and Einarrion looked into her sun-bright eyes and realized what She was.

"My lady," he said, bowing very low and trembling all over. Why had she come to speak to him? "Great Mother, I did not recognize you. Forgive me."

"There is little to forgive," said the Flamecaller with a rumbling gentleness. Einarrion could see, now, the fires of the Great Furnace in her eyes. "Child, you have wandered far to reach the edge of my domain. A few more wing-beats and you will depart, and come under the watch of my brother the Tidelord. "

"You won't stop me from going?" whispered Einarrion.

"I will not," said the Flamecaller with a voice like thunder. "Believe me when I say you may truly do what you wish—as long as you truly wish for it, and it is not a lie. For although you perceive that which your fellows miss, I wonder if you haven't perceived what lies within yourself."

Einarrion thought for a long moment. Then he closed his eyes. "I want to go home," he said quietly, in a voice of utter defeat.

"Then return home you shall," said the Flamecaller. "There will be many battles for you to fight, and there is much work for you to do. I hope you're ready for it, and I have no doubt that it will be interesting if nothing else; but happiness shall be yours in the years to come. Go now and do not waver, Einarrion Fire-born, and remember that I—I have plans for those whom I made from my cleansing fires, and I do not make mistakes." she reached out with one claw, still as small as a fae, and touched him briefly on the forehead with a touch that was brief but searing hot. When Einarrion looked up again, she was gone.

He did not remember getting up, or his long flight home, but he did remember the look on Adara's face when he staggered into the cavern. After he rested and recounted his story they scolded and sniped at each other as usual, but she seemed distracted, staring at a spot slightly above his eyes. A week later, when he beheld his reflection in a pool of water, he knew.

With the winter comes the strong winds, once more, that rush through the canyons of the Ashfall Wastes. But inside the nameless volcano it is always warm. And Einarrion, with the searing-bright brand of the Flamecaller on his brow, dwells with Adara in the temple amongst the molten rock.