The Ancient Master of Chaos (part 1)
The fire crackled in the stone hearth. The snow blew in furious waves in the dusk without the paned glass windows, a whirlpool wind shrieking in its wake. The stone beneath bare feet was as cold as the bitter night without. The girl’s dormitory common room was of a decent size, if not large. Several high-backed chairs surrounded by circular wooden tables lined the room. Two cushioned couches made an L-shape before the hearth. Behind one, stood an antique table of carved oak, atop it a lamp of will-oh-the-wisp light glowing a bright blue beneath a plum-colored lamp shade. The will-oh-the-wisps were not trapped inside the lamp, of course. Rather, brave seekers had gone out to collect their light. It made great profit, but the risk of becoming lost in the swamps, mislead by the wisps, was too great in Melindra’s mind to be worth the price gained.
Melindra was the sole occupant in the room. Girl, truly, more than woman, though old enough that she would protest at the accusation. She wore a blue shift beneath a white-laced shawl wrapped upon her shoulders. As a Prefect, she ought to have completed her outfit with stockings and shoes, as was the school’s policy, as an example to the younger students. But it was late, and no students remained in the common room. Besides, the stockings were itchy.
Two letters of parchment lay before her, side by side, both stamped and signed with insigmas. One depicted two crossed lances beneath a raven, the other a crescent moon beside a bison. The Academy of Corvus and The University of Praecellins.
The Academy of Corvus, located in a town of its name-sake, was a fine academy indeed. Many respectable Scholars and Magic-Wielders had graduated from its corridors. But simply that – respectable. One could learn at Corvus what one wished, but one’s knowledge and one’s opportunities would be that much mightier at a greater Institute with greater mentors - that would be The University of Praecellins, the finest, grandest Institute of Scholars and Mages that had been seen in the Nine Lands for many centuries, for many Ages. Since Melindra had been but a small child, she had been told of the wonderous tales of the deeds of famous Magic-Wielders, legendary Alchemists, grand Natural Historians, and more. She had dreamed of attending The University of Praecellins since she was but a small girl. And her mother had always said, Reach for the Moon and the moon will reach down and scoop you in its grasp, to bring you high to the night sky. Reach, and the see the wonders of the world by the Moon’s side.
The Letters from the universities held inked words deeming her future.
She had reached. She had stretched her arms and limbs and every ounce of crimson muscle fiber to its breaking point. But the moon had not reached down to scoop her in its grasp. She would not see the wonders of the world by the Moon’s side. That fine ink on The University of Praecellin’s parchment - We are sorry to inform you – pierced her like a sword pierces lungs.
She did not want to cry. She would not be the sore in spirit to cry.
The University of Praecellin only accepted a handful of students each year, and rarely two students from the same school. It did not matter how hard she had tried. Who could compete with Cora’ana?
It was both a bitter and honest thought. Beautiful, athletic, intelligent, magic-wielding Cora’ana. None stood close to her. Who could beat Cora’ana, the star of the Nine Land Dueling Championships? Who could beat Cora’ana, who wrote an essay for class and Miss Morinhawk thought it so grand she submitted it to be published in The Fae Land Times? Who could beat Cora’ana? It did not matter that Melindra had won the Regional Championships for Dueling. It did not matter her marks were stellar, her essays received in admiration. It did not matter that she had a great knowledge in the Arts of Magic, though less inborn talent. None of it mattered. Truly, Cora’ana was simply the better of the two.
The worst of it was, though, Cora’ana was kind. None of her achievements or accomplishments went to her head. In fact, she hardly seemed aware of them. For example, Harold, a new student outcasted for his stutter, small stature, and blemished face, sat alone every meal in the Dining Hall. But Cora’ana approached him one meal and asked if she could sit with him. She really thought nothing of it, and Melindra had looked very hard for any sign at all of a trickery, of perhaps Cora’ana trying to up her own status. But, after a few days, Harold’s lonely table became the most crowded.
Cora’ana was always like that, her eyes on the look-out for an outcast, and befriending them, whether others were available to see her kind acts or not she did not care. She comforted crying, home-sick students. She volunteered to help the nurse clean the sick rooms, a position no one wished for. And when Melindra overheard Lianor, Cora’ana’s friend, ask Cora’ana why she would volunteer such a thing, Cora’ana had replied, “well, I do not really wish to myself, if I am honest. But I don’t think Nurse Litty likes to as well, and try as she might to recruit, no one else would volunteer. Besides, Nurse Litty is nice.”
That’s just how Cora’ana was.
It was not fair, Melindra thought. She laid her head down on a pillow, her eyes red and swollen. Why did Cora’ana have to be talented and selfless. It was not fair.
She pulled her legs up, curled on the couch before the fire in the stone hearth, and cried.
Slowly, she fell into a restless sleep.
Her eyes opened. She stood at what seemed to be the ocean’s floor. Dunes of waving sand radiated as far as the eye could see, which was not very far, in the dim, dark waters. She was dreaming, she knew, a rare thing, to be aware of a dream in a dream. And yet… ice slid along her spine, unease creeping like a hundred spiders tingling her skin. Much could hide in this dim, murky water.
As if with the thought, one of the sand dunes shifted.
A thick, gray chain pinned into the sand rattled with the movement. The sand dune grew into the size of a small mountain, and the mountain began to uncoil. The sea-serpent, with green-gray scales, a leviathan to swallow sailor and ship, swam before her.
Stories told from childhood came forth even in dreams.
Koth Arlodh Deray.
In the current tongue, The Ancient Master of Chaos.
She should be scared stiff, scared as a mouse cornered by a cat without escape. Yes, she was afraid. But the fear was diluted as if the water around her acted as a sponge to soak it out, as if the dim waters hid her fear from herself.
The serpent spoke. “Hello, Melindra O’ Fionnora, daughter of the Sea. I have awaited your coming for quite some time, now.”
“You know my name?” She should not be surprised. This was a dream in her own mind, after all.
Only… the water surrounding her felt so real. Cold as the night in the Desert, covering her like a quilt. Yet she could breathe.
The sea-serpent spoke, “I have been watching this world for much time now.”
That could not be right. The Sea-Serpent, Koth Arlodh Deray, was said to be asleep, far beneath the world’s waters. His dreams touched the world, and that was why Death still remained. But order fought to keep Koth Arldoh Deray asleep, and hence, though Death came, so would come new life. Koth Arldoh Deray was asleep. A sleeping beast could not watch the happenings of the world. She said such.
The sea-serpent laughed. It was a frightening sound. “Do I look asleep to you?” He asked.
Melindra did not reply, and the Sea-serpent continued. “I am awake, simply imprisoned, and awaiting to be released.”
Melindra did not speak. She wondered though, who did the Sea-Serpent think would come to release it? Only a fool would do such. The reason everyone did not die and everything did not come Undone was because the Sea-serpent was imprisoned and asleep.
Only… the Leviathon before her was not sleeping.
Melindra shook her head. It felt fogged like a winter day. “This is a dream.” She spoke to both herself and the serpent.
“Yes,” The Sea-serpent replied, “A dream this is. A dream is the only way I can reach humans, the only way I can speak to you.”
“Why?”
“To ask you to find me, and release me.”
She stared at the Sea-serpent. It must have lost its mind. She would not, not in a thousand years, release it from its imprisonment. The Sea-Serpent, the Ancient Master of Chaos and Undoing.
She still was not afraid. The surrounding waters swallowed her fear. Still, she was becoming uncomfortable. This was not a good dream. She wished to wake up, now.
She closed her eyes. Even with eyes closed, the icy waters still blanketed her. Please, please wake up.
The Serpent laughed. She flinched at the sound. “Will you not search for me? Will you not release me?”
She squeezed her eyes tighter still. She could not say no, not to the beast. The Sea-serpent could easily slash forward, open its jaws, and swallow her whole. Or worse. But she could not answer the affirmative, either. She could not, she would not, condemn all the world to a final death. She could answer neither no nor yes. The cat crept closer to the terrified, cornered mouse.
The Sea-Serpent said “Very well. Think on it, Melindra O’Fionnora, daughter of the Sea. Know this, if you find me, if you release me of my chains, I can give you what you most desire.”
The icy water vanished.
Melindra opened her eyes. She stood in the Alchemy classroom. There would be a test today, and she had forgotten to study. Melindra sunk into her dreams.
When she woke the following morning, her hair and clothes disheveled from sleeping fully dressed upon the couch, she hardly recalled the nightmare with the Sea-Serpent. And as the day went on - She did have an Alchemy test, but she had not forgotten to study for it – the nightmare became loss in the recesses of her mind.
