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[DRG 2015] The Misty Halo

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posted on Jan, 21 2015 @ 09:00 PM
“Feed the dragons. Who are they kidding?” Lugby groaned as he walked the sheep up the mountain path. “Who ever heard of feeding dragons? You don't feed dragons, they just eat. And look at you, dumb little sheep. You just keep following me right up this path, straight to the dragons lair like you're on a pleasant afternoon stroll. You dont e...”

The half of Lugby's body that normally does the talking disappeared in the dragon's maw while the half that would normally be running like hell sat motionless waiting for a signal that never came. The sheep wandered back to its pen where it would wait patiently until next months offering was made. It had made this trip many times and each time was surprised that the humans never noticed the dragon. But then, sheep are surprised by pretty much everything.

Lazar lumbered back to his lair hidden in the side of the mountain. It was so well disguised that you could stand in front of it looking directly at it and not see it. Lazar liked it that way. It had served him well for the last 400 years. Lazar sat in his den thinking that the quality of the offerings was starting to get very disappointing. It wasn't just the thrill of the hunt that he missed. The taste was somehow not as pleasing as it once was. In short, he was one bored dragon.

The one true joy Lazar had left was taking wing on clear starry nights. The feel of the mist on his scales, the dizzying array of stars that seemed almost within reach, it was freedom from the prison his life had become. His escape. His passion. It made his life tolerable.

Princess Ivana, the last of the Ternerova royal bloodline, silently walked the parapets looking out over her kingdom. She was beautiful by any measure, with a wisdom that belied her tender age of twenty and two. Beyond being of royal blood, there was something very special about her. She was like no other. She was truly one of a kind. With just a mere glance immediately came the thought, “Ivana Ternerova”.

Ivana turned to the west and saw the haze around the moon, a shimmering halo that beckoned to her. Perpetually out of reach, she could only offer it worship even as she longed to feel it wrapped around her. Slowly, she arched her lithe body back until her hands came round to grasp her heels. In this position, her body honoring the halo of the moon, she would meditate and offer thanks for the prosperity of her kingdom. She could feel the cool breeze pushing the silk of her garment against her skin revealing the shape that God had given her and imagined it to be the halo gently caressing her.

Lazar spun through the air, his enormous wings taking huge gulps of air and tossing them aside with each beat. He soared onward, nearly hypnotized by the halo around the moon. Movement caught his eye on the castle below. He swung to the east and saw Princess Ivana walking the parapets. He glided silently overhead as she contorted her body into the image he held so dear to his heart. Impetuous, as dragons often are, he swooped down and gently snatched Princess Ivana from her meditation and carried her away with little more than a brief squeel.

Word was sent forth that Princess Ivana had been taken by Lazar. Knights from every corner of the land came to see if they were worthy of the task of rescue. It would be only the most exceptional Knight that could save the Princess. Many would seek the task, but only one would be chosen.

At the behest of the Viceroy, the Knights formed a skirmish line and on signal began bashing and hacking away at each other. Amidst the swirling dust and banging and clanging it soon became apparent that one Knight was not like the others. His armor unscathed, his sword glistened, he seemed a giant among men. It was obvious – he would be the one.
The Viceroy summoned the Knight to his side. “You fight well Sir Knight. How are thee known?” “I am called Mansin”, replied the knight removing his helmet revealing flowing blonde locks and piercing blue eyes. “What make ye of this Sir Mansin?” the Viceroy asked as his aide held high a drawing of Princess Ivana. “She is indeed beautiful Viceroy. Your words are true.” “And again I ask, what think you of this?” The aide held high a drawing of Lazar. Sir Mansin's pulse quickened. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his temples. His breath drew quicker. He glared at the drawing of Lazar as if his gaze could emblazen it upon his very eyes. “Make ready my steed – I ride tonight. If I do not return by the fourth night send word to my family on the fifth mourn.”

Lazar landed at the entrance to his lair and gently set the Princess to ground. She lay motionless, the ordeal overwhelmed her into unconsciousness. Slowly her wits approached her and after a moments hesitation settled down in their accustomed positions. Before her stood Lazar, watching her, waiting for her to bend into the form he worshipped from afar. Silently they sat, staring at each other, motionless. Lazar turned to the side and looked at his back, then at Princess Ivana. The Princess did nothing. Again, Lazar looked at his back, then at Princess Ivana, this time adding a “Humph” and a small puff of smoke. Princess Ivana stood slowly, not believing what she was doing, and walked towards Lazar. Lazar turned his back to the Princess who climbed his scales and sat comfortably where he had twice looked. She held tight as Lazar stepped to the entrance of his lair and with one monstrous lunge of his wings they were flying.

Princess Ivana giggled. Every nerve in her body bristled with excitement. She was closer to the moon's halo than she ever dreamed she would be. Thrilled with the excitement of flight, being so close to the object of her worship, feeling the power of the dragon's body flexing between her legs, she closed her eyes and finally touched the halo she had only dreamed of before.

For three nights Lazar and Ivana repeated their ritual of flying ever higher, sharing a common goal, feeling as one. Lazar swept his wings back then thrust them forward to slow his decent as he neared the entrance to his lair. Even before landing he sensed something was amiss. Princess Ivana had barely dismounted when he turned suddenly and roared letting loose the flames within his belly. In their light Ivana could see Sir Mansin, standing at the entrance to the lair, sword in hand.

“No!” screamed Ivana and put herself between the two. But her efforts were for naught. There would be blood spilled that night.

The fourth night came and went and on the fifth mourn the Viceroy joined a league of men to seek out Sir Mansin and discover the results of his endeavour. Slowly, cautiously, the men approached Lazar's lair. As they rounded the last turn of rocks to reach the entrance to the lair their eyes met with a sight none had anticipated. Seasoned warriors of the Royal Guard were so taken aback they nearly choked on their own vomit.

Tied to a tree was the Princess, lifeless, a jousting lance shoved through her body. On the other side of the entrance lay the dragon, arms and legs bound, tail propped up by Sir Mansins shield, with a silly look of satisfaction on its face.

The Viceroy, realizing what events had transpired could say only this: “We are dealing with one very sick Knight here....”
edit on 21-1-2015 by Vroomfondel because: (no reason given)

posted on Jan, 21 2015 @ 11:39 PM
Really enjoyed this. Is there more of the story coming?

posted on Jan, 22 2015 @ 08:09 PM
Thank you....yes, more coming...

posted on Jan, 22 2015 @ 10:07 PM
Mansin wondered if he went too far making Ivana watch as he defiled her one true love before killing her. “No,” he thought to himself. “What nerve she had, preferring the company of dragons to me. Me! What manner of twisted mind she must have had. She could not be permitted to speak of this humiliation.” Mansin reasoned that though it seemed he had violated a Knight's moral code it was the Princess' rejection that forced him to action and his duty was clear. In the end he decided that morality was in fact to blame, not his interpretation of it. He purposely ignored the fact that he would have savored torturing Lazar until his last breath had he not seen the Viceroy and his men approaching. That too would be unspoken.

Lazar's senses returned to him and he strained against the binds on his arms and legs breaking them easily. The Viceroy and his men were startled to see the dragon move ever so slowly toward Ivana rather than turn and destroy them. It was with an eerie fascination that the Viceroy watched as Lazar moved close to Ivana, pulled the lance from her broken body, laid his head next to her and wept. The Viceroy heard the depth of the wounds to the dragon's soul with every anguished cry. Beyond the dragon he saw the piles of herbs Mansin had boiled to make the potion that had been used on Lazar and he now understood what had happened. He said the name as if it was acid in his mouth, “Mansin...”

Lazar hissed at the mention of his tormentor and clawed at the earth where last the demon had stood. The Viceroy knew he had found a powerful ally in the dragon and sought to engage his assistance in hunting down the vile bastard that killed the Princess Ivana. “Find him. Bring him to me and I shall make him pay dearly for what he has done” vowed the Viceroy. Lazar spat at the ground near his feet and spread his wings, crowding the puny humans away from his lair. “Please, we need your help,” the Viceroy begged. Lazar did something dragons very rarely ever do in front of humans. He said, “No.” The Viceroy, stunned but desperate, was about to object then thought better of it. “I think Lazar, you will make him suffer enough for both of us. I hope you understand we need to take Ivana with us... Lazar looked at her one last time and again he wept.

...A curious thing about dragons, they can invade the minds of men
with little effort when properly motivated. Once within they can
issue forth the most diabolical imaginings that sanity will flee in fear.

“Mansin, defiler of dragons, and the occasional amphibian if the mood strikes him...” The words echoed in Mansin's mind nearly uprooting him from his saddle. “Who dares speak of Sir Mansin in such an insulent manner? Reveal yourself coward, and have at it,” Mansin demanded of no one in particular. Had he been seen? Was there witness to his deeds in the dragon's lair? If so, he was a man with a bounty on his head and there would be no place safe for him to hide.

Mansin heard a strange whistling sound from above him when suddenly his shield slammed into the ground twenty feet in front of him. Searching the heavens he found nothing odd save for the halo around the moon which seemed particularly bright for some reason.

“Forget your lance, Mansin? Did you drink your own potion and lose your wits?” The words thundered in his ears. He lurched around left and right, up and down, searching for the source of the mockery to no avail.

High above the canyon trail where Mansin sat grappling with his sanity Lazar focused his attention on the silvery halo around the moon. “Your light is too bright to waste on him,” Lazar whispered. “Leave him be Lazar. You are better than he.” Ivana's words settled on Lazar like a warm blanket. “Come to me instead and together we will cross the heavens each night until the end of time.” The words came to Lazar like the gentlest breeze, a cats paw on a down pillow. “He needs to pay for what he has done, Ivana. He needs to pay,” Lazar answered. “He is paying Lazar. Even now. See for yourself.” Lazar looked down at the puny human just in time to hear him yell, “I will not be known as a defiler of dragons!” just before plunging his dagger in one ear and out the other in an attempt to silence the voice that had driven him mad. Sir Mansin fell to the ground, his shield standing near him like a tombstone marking his sad victory over the voices in his head.

Lazar flew higher than he had ever flown before.

And in the mists of the night, in the halo round the moon, lay entwined the tales of the beautifully tragic and the tragically beautiful for each is but a reflection of the other. And to this day, on a clear night, if you focus and listen, you just might hear a distant voice in your head say, “Ivana.”

posted on Jan, 23 2015 @ 12:43 AM
a reply to: Vroomfondel

Very Well Written Tale!!
Cracked Me up about the Sheep, Then The Princess's name!!!LOL!!!
I then became totally engrossed in Your Story!!

Very Good Job!!! Deserving of More than the one Flag and Star I offer!!!

ETA: Oh, don't forget to link this in the Writers Contest Thread.
Be sure to add Your Status as Writer or Non-Writer.

edit on 23-1-2015 by SyxPak because: (no reason given)

posted on Jan, 23 2015 @ 05:36 PM
a reply to: SyxPak

Thank you so much for the kind words. I don't feel deserving of such compliment. It is truly appreciated.

I wonder how many of the easter eggs people are going to find...

posted on Jan, 26 2015 @ 02:59 PM
a reply to: Vroomfondel

Great stuff vroom, very well done you!


posted on Jan, 30 2015 @ 03:11 PM
a reply to: Vroomfondel

How did I miss this? This... this... Freudian escapade!
That was so unexpected and so gripping, I wanted much, much more of it.

Loved it!


posted on Jan, 30 2015 @ 05:35 PM
a reply to: beansidhe
a reply to Gordi also:

Thank you for the kind words. It is appreciated. I had fun with this story switching the traditional roles around. :-)

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