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  • #272

    Sanso was finding it hard to stop laughing at Arona’s funny wooping hoots of laughter. He snorted and gasped until his side ached.

    Mandrake? Mandrake! Arona came to her senses. Where has he gone? Mandrake!

    He’s taken that glass sand thing, too! All that laughing had jumbled up Sanso’s memories, and he couldn’t recall the name of that Glass sand thing

    (that glass sand thing, Becky made a note to look it up and correct the script later)

    That creature’s made off with it!

    Oh, bugger off, Sanso, Mandrake wouldn’t do that! Arona spoke sharply, forgetting her manners in her panic. What would a Mandrake want with a glass sand thing? Arona almost stamped in frustration at not remembering the name of that thing, and in front of Sanso, too.

    Sanso didn’t hear her anyway, he was striding purposefully across the cavern towards the waterfall.

    Well wait for me! Arona ran to catch up with him. How do you know he went this way?

    I don’t, Sanso was honest, But when I gets an urge, I gets an urge, and I follows it.

    Arona couldn’t think of a better idea, so she followed him. Slow down, will you! Mandrake! MANDRAKE! Where are you, Mandrake!

    #269

    Malvina had been busy opening doors for herself, and thus, for the All.

    Creating the sabulmantium with Leörmn had revealed new potentials to her. And just before putting the final touch to the device, she had felt engulfed in a huge wave and before she knew it, she was talking with someone. A great creative power, which was stemming from herself, and also from which she stemmed too.

    It had named itself Naasir.

    It had revealed to her, in the form of a dark abyss, myriads of unknown potentials waiting for her to leap in faith into them. It had gently requested that she release her hold on the caves openings, so that she could explore more, and also bring more to herself.

    Then Naasir took the form of a great dragon in that abyss, from which roots were growing and pushing their way, slowly and surely, into the rich soil towards the light of their fullness.

    She had then seen the dragon’s arched back and tail shift into a chain of spiked rocks, separating the worlds seas in two. Three of the scales on the right of the dragon’s skin were glimmering, and she could see they were looking for a passage.

    Would she allow that to happen? Yes, she wanted to. Open the doorways, and reunite what was separate, but gently, one at a time.

    Slowly, the kite-shaped rocky plates on the back of the dragon moved apart, to open a slight, safe passage for the glimmering scales. They were caught in the eddies that surged from the opening, but Malvina’s focus helped them to float and cross safely, as they wanted to.

    She then came back to herself, seated in front of the glass-shell dragon egg filled with coloured sand, awed with that power she had just felt through her. She knew it was her own power, and that the device had only allowed it to be expressed, but she had felt wary of how the sabulmantium could be used by others.

    At the same time, Leörmn who was once again the tiny weaszchilla trotting on the wooden table in front of her had laughed squeakingly. And looking at the toy in front of her, she had understood how it could only be used by those who would see beyond the thinly veiled surface. For the uncaring eye, this would only be a toy, mundane and without interest, but for the pure of heart, its help could be harnessed.

    That’s how she’d knew she did not need it any longer, and could release it.

    So, the doors had been opened, and people were feeling the new jewels sparkling behind the dark passages. And gifts from friends could now come across the veils.

    Malvina saw that during the last transmugrification, Leörmn had created an entrance near her laboratory, and it was as if it beckoned her now.

    When she entered, she saw a guéridon table in the middle of a moistly pungent room. On the table, a polished egg was here. She recognized it at once. It had an azure blue glow to it, and fond memories came back to her.

    Back then, she was a young Sorceress in training on the Island of Mörk, in the middle of the Icy Lands, the birth and dying place of the dragons.

    This egg was one from a set of three. It was the first glubolín she’d ever made, along with her two companions. They had kept it to communicate with each other when they parted.

    Malvina, the youngest of the three, had kept the azure blue, and chose to go to the Dragon Head Peninsula.

    Oörlaith had kept the mauve, and went near the town of Kapalÿka, on the Snimeÿa River delta bordering the Marshes of Doom.

    As for Roselÿn, the eldest of the three, she had taken the amber one, and had went as far as anyone would have dared go, flying on her spiked dragon Rëgkvist, past the Great Rift.

    They had kept in touch, but contacts had been more and more sporadic as each were discovering their own new environments, and had ceased altogether, almost at the same time.

    As far as she knew, Roselÿn had been starting her own rookery in the sandy ice deserts of Åsgurdy, mostly hiding there from the superstitious people of that land. And Oörlaith, whom she was closest to, had been devising another funny way to keep people away from her rookery. Her own dragon, the playful Andarión, was shape-shifting as a huge shrimp to pretend that the surroundings were haunted.

    Recalling all these moment, Malvina laughed at how silly they all were, and felt a long to be connecting again with her friends. Would anyone of them be around their own glubolíns?

    #254
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Bill, the itinerant artist commissioned to paint portraits of the Wrick family, was uneasy. While he’d been staying in the castle with the eccentric family, he’d lost all track of linear time. It had been altogether too confusing, and his head was spinning. Manon the cook had sent a tray up to his room, with a pot of Earl grey tea, and a plate of Yorkshire parkin for his supper, when he’d claimed to be developing a mysterious ailment and begged leave to retire to his room.

      Bill splashed some malt whiskey into his cup of tea. A good long sleep was what he needed, and with a sigh he drained his cup and climbed into bed, pulling the heavy eiderdown up over his chin. He lay there for awhile staring into space, not really aware of his thoughts. An owl hooted from the oak tree outside his window. Twit whoohooo twit whoo hooooooo…

      Bill blinked and then frowned. On the top of the Queen Anne highboy facing the end of his bed was a large carved stone face. How odd, he thought, I don’t recall seeing that there before.

      #143
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Dory yawned and stretched. She was wrapped in a lovely feeling, but as usual couldn’t recall any details of her dream. Lately though, she’d get a phrase, or a snapshot to give her a clue. The Dance of the Lemurs. How silly is that, she thought, whatever does it mean. She popped it into her Clue Box with all the other riddles and clues.

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