Prologue
The Tides of Battle
Greece, 8th Century BCE
“Sparta!!”
“Thessaly forever!”
The woman cringed as the next wave of soldiers departed
behind her tent. They fought for Greece, they fought against the rulership of
outsiders—and this was a cause for which every man would fight to the death.
Times like this, she regretted insisting that she would
rather perish in the military camp than wait at home to hear her husband had
perished. Would this be the end of them all? How many more bodies must fall on
the plains of Arcadia before the cost would be great enough?
Her anxious hands had pulled and stretched the fabric of her
himation to the point of wearing holes in the fabric. She dropped the folds and
tried to smooth out the wrinkles. There was one last thing she could do, and
she needed to waste no more time in doing it. There would be no more waiting
while her husband risked his life to slaughter their conquerors. She would act,
and thereby save their people.
She called the slave girl. “Pasha!”
Pasha came running, her dirty bare legs extending under the
hem of her simple chiton like stilts. She knelt before her mistress.
“What is your bidding, Lady Despina?”
“The box given to me by the mystic, retrieve it from my
wardrobe.”
Pasha arose and scurried to the great cedar chest in the
corner. Buried deep among the rich fabrics was a small wooden chest, barely
larger than a man’s fist, etched on every side with strange charms and signs.
Pasha presented it to her mistress with the utmost respect.
Despina accepted the box, and stood from her couch. They
needed greater secrecy for what she was about to do.
“Follow me,” she ordered Pasha, covering her head with the
extra material of her skirts.
The two women snuck through the tents of the encampment,
choosing the path that would avoid any other person. Despina led her slave into
the forest, to a wide clearing among the trees.
The regal woman stepped right out into the moonlight, but
Pasha hung back in the shadows with a small whimper.
Despina turned back. “Do not be afraid, Pasha,” she assured
the slave girl. “Tonight, you will witness the salvation of all Greece.” She
held up the box, whispering the magic word as she did so. The symbol on the lid
illuminated, and the top flipped open. From within, Despina removed a large
ring, silver carved in the shape of a dragon, clutching a fire-red jewel in its
claws. She slipped it onto her finger, and with that hand she bent down and
gripped the ground in front of her. Bright-red tendrils unfolded across the
dirt, and two jets of flame raced through the air, meeting at the top in a
wide, round shape. A furious gust of wind blew within the circle of fire, so
fierce that both Pasha and Despina had to bend their heads and cover their
faces. When it died, Despina looked up.
It took a moment, as she let go of the ground and the ring
of fire died, but she soon realized that part of the sky above her was not sky
at all.
The dark shape, flecked with glittering gold, loomed toward
her, and she felt its hot breath.
“Why have you summoned me?”
Despina bowed her head again. “Oh Great Dragon,” she
murmured, “I am Despina, wife of Drakistos, General of the Greek Army. We are
at war—“
“What do I care for your war?” the Midnight Dragon
interrupted her. “You seek to curry my favor, that I may fight alongside you.
Merely because you bear the Ring does not make your cause a just one. I could
just as easily side with those who seek to overcome you.”
Despina raised a look of terror. “But you—Please! We did not
challenge them! They invaded us!”
“And so you would have me accomplish the work of a thousand
battlefields in this night alone? To what end?”
Despina found her courage, and stood straight as she
declared, “For the safety and peace of Greece!”
The Dragon bent his head. A twitch of his tail knocked over
a few of the trees. “You have summoned me, it is true. But you do not own me,
and I do not owe you any fealty. I do not yet know this world of yours, Lady
Drakistos, but perhaps as I visit other times and places, I will discern what
justice I will serve." With broad strokes of his mighty wings, the beast
lifted into the air and vanished in the moonlight.
“No!” Despina screamed. “Come back!” She crouched down and
reached for the earth again, as if that would bring the dragon back. Nothing
happened, not even the slightest flicker.
“My Lady, Despina!” Pasha cried, running forward. “What
happened?”
Despina felt the warmth of tears in her eyes as she looked
at her servant; was she dull, or truly unaware of what had just taken place?
Despina removed the ring and placed it in the box again.
“Nothing happened, child,” she murmured as sobs gathered in her throat. “I fear
I have lost our only chance to turn the tides of battle.” What would become of
them now?
“Despina? Despina!”
A soldier ran into the open, stopping short and bowing low
to her. Over his shoulder, he called, “I have found her, my General!”
Despina stared, bewildered, as her husband Drakistos
emerged, holding out his arms to her. “There you are, my love!”
“Drakistos, what are you doing here?” Despina demanded. “I
thought you were fighting—“
Drakistos held her close; she could still smell the sweat
and death on him. “There is no more fighting, my love. We had almost lost the
battle, but the enemy camp burst into flames all at once, and they were forced
to yield to us. We have won!”
Despina sighed with relief, and kissed her husband. The
Dragon had come to their aid after all!
“Come,” said Drakistos, “we are headed to the Great Temple
to offer sacrifices. The gods have shown us great favor today, and we must pay
them our thanks!”
Despina followed, knowing full well that she had someone
else to thank for today’s victory.
The Dragon came when she summoned it, but he did not land.
“I am wounded, Lady Drakistos,” he informed her. “The army
still managed to score several hits upon the chinks in my scales. If I were to
return to my world in this state, I would surely die. I must remain in your
world a bit longer, to heal from my wounds. I will visit later, when I am well,
and you can send me back.”
Despina nodded, bowing low. “It will be as you command,” she
said. When she lifted her head, the Dragon had vanished.
Despina buried the box in its hiding place once more. She
would keep it safe until the dragon returned, and if she did not see him again
in her lifetime, she would tell her daughter the story of the Dragon, tell her
the words of the spells, admonish her to wait, and to encourage her own
daughter in doing the same, until the Midnight Dragon returned.
The descendants of Drakistos passed on the traditions and
the sanctity of the ring, but many generations passed before the Midnight
Dragon appeared again, on a night of great turmoil, which threatened to snuff
out the Drakistos legacy forever…
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