Tattali Moanthistle rode the wind’s capricious currents in her [[nightingale carriage]], letting them take her where they might, until she spied something that struck her fancy...
[[Tuk-Quant<-Floating coffins of Tuk-Quant]]
[[Dragon lair atop Mount Untodra]]
Twenty-six nightingales attached by gossamer lines to a carriage made of poppy petals, willow strips and spirit gum.
[[1<-continue]]
As she passed low over the mountaintop she saw a massive nest about ten feet in diameter. In its center, a broken eggshell as big as a farm wagon, with remarkable coloration – a gradient of shimmering greens and purples mottled with lavender specks.
No sign of the baby or parents. Perhaps this was an old lair, long deserted, or the family might be out and about, hunting for food or just riding the winds for pleasure, much as she was doing.
[[2<-continue]]
She swooped down toward the peaks, her carriage buffeted by the wind, and made a skilful landing a few yards from the nest. She climbed out, thinking warm thoughts as the wind clutched at her billowing white gown and her feet sank into the foot-deep snow.
She waded over to the nest, climbed over the edge and crunched across the intertwined twigs and branches to reach the shell.
She touched the larger half, ran a hand along its smooth, chilly surface, then grabbed a point on the broken end and snapped off a chunk, about the size of a handkerchief.
[[3<-continue]]
It would make a great addition to her garden and she knew the perfect spot for it, bridging a furrow between the moonflowers and faerie moss, where the afternoon sunlight would imbue the shell’s delicate colors with an ethereal, luminescent quality...
Nah, forget that. She needed money and the apothecaries would pay a tidy sum for such an exotic commodity.
[[4<-continue]]
As she stood there thinking about all the bills she could pay with that one bit of shell, a shadow darkened the ground around her and she snapped her head up, gasping.
A full-grown female dragon landed on a nearby outcropping, tucking its massive wings against its body and staring at her with angry, yellow eyes.
[[get the hell out of there!]]
[[say hello to the dragon]]
Tattali spun around and rushed to her nightingale carriage as fast as her feet could churn through the thick snow. She leapt in and shook the reins and shot into the air and...
*Foosh!*
Orange flame enshrouded the carriage. Intense heat engulfed her. The nightingales, instantly incinerated, were reduced to little puffballs of smoldering ash, quickly dissolved by the wind. The carriage plunged to the ground and burst apart and Tattali, badly burned, staggered out of the wreckage, collapsing into a drift. The dragon unleashed a second stream of fire, melting the snow. And her.
[[say hello to the dragon<-try again]]
“Hi there!” she said nervously. “I just happened to be passing by and I thought I’d set down here for a minute to rest my nightingales. I’d love to stay and chat, but I really must be leaving. Bye bye.”
She started toward her carriage. The dragon slammed down its tail in front of her, barring her way.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” it growled.
[[5<-continue]]
“Like what?”
“That piece of shell gripped in your hot little hand. Are you in the habit of making off with other people’s property?”
“Certainly not! I figured you had no further use for it – I mean, it’s just trash, right? – so I thought I’d put it in my garden. It’s not just pretty, it evokes the glory and majesty of your proud and ancient race. Every time I look at it I shall be reminded of the splendid contributions dragons have made to ...”
“Three jars of jellied moonbeams.”
“Uh ... I beg your pardon?”
“Or ten sacks of flax. Or five gallon-sized buckets of swamp toads.”
“What are you talking about?”
[[6<-continue]]
“That’s the going rate at the trading post in Dunslauffen where we take our used shells twice a year and sell them. Are you a member of the trade guild?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well it doesn’t really matter. I’m in a generous mood today so I’ll offer you the standard guild rate on a chunk that size. Three jars of jellied moonbeams or ten sacks of flax or ...”
“I know, I know, five buckets of swamp toads.”
“Gallon buckets.”
[[7<-continue]]
“That sounds like quite a bargain, but I’m afraid I neglected to bring any of those items with me.”
“Then leave the merchandise here. We’ll hold it for a week. And if you can’t afford to pay the entire price at once, we offer a monthly installment plan for a small additional fee. You can pay in gold, if you prefer, but there will be a ten percent conversion fee.”
[[8<-continue]]
Tattali set the shell shard atop a nearby boulder. “I’ll think it over.”
The dragon lifted her tail. “Suit yourself. If you decide to buy it, stop by the trading post in Dunslauffen. We’d rather not have our customers come here, due to liability issues.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
[[9<-continue]]
Tattali did not return to Mount Untodra. She did visit the trading post in Dunslauffen, but chose not to buy any dragon shell shards. Instead she selected a giant prehistoric dung beetle carapace a farmer had unearthed while plowing his field near Smoth-Upon-Drear. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as the dragon shell, but it fit very nicely in her garden between the moonflowers and faerie moss. And since it only cost her one gold piece plus two witchstone healing pendants, she had plenty of funds left over to pay her bills.
THE END
[[Tuk-Quant<-visit the floating coffins]]
She descended into the gorge and slowed her carriage to a halt next to one of the legendary [[floating coffins.]]
[[10<-continue]]
Thirty three of them, spaced about fifty yards apart, running the length of the gorge, like scattered box cars from a derailed train. Floating a hundred feet above the surging waters of Tuk-Quant River, whose risings mists caress the coffins’ bottoms – yet no mere vapor could support such heavy boxes. The secret to their levitation is shrouded not in mist, but mystery.
The coffins drift slowly in one direction, moving several feet per day, and when the leading coffin reaches the end of the gorge they all pause for a few hours, then start back the other way.
[[10<-continue]]
Several [[men]] stood on the pebbly bank of the river, staring up at the coffins and speculating about their secrets, but when they saw Tattali and her carriage their eyes widened and they gesticulated at her and cried out in alarm, then hurried to the stone steps cut into the side of the gorge, which led up to the hitching posts where they’d tethered their donkeys.
They clambered onto the animals’ backs and kicked them into a fast trot, gazing fearfully over their shoulders at the girl in the winged chariot who dared mingle with the dead. She must be a ghoul, come to feast on the bodies, or a demon wishing to gnaw their souls.
[[11<-continue]]
Visitors to Tuk-Quant are a hardy lot. After taking an hour-long train ride from Eld-vur (or two hours from Kuffbin), they find no horse-drawn buggies waiting for them in the village, but donkeys, which they must ride over a narrow mountain trail to the gorge itself.
Once they arrive, they view the coffins at eye level from the top of the gorge – the closest coffins are only twenty feet away – and then the hardiest visitors climb down the steep and slippery steps to the river bank so they can see the bottoms of the boxes, hoping to witness a [[rare and grotesque phenomenon]].
After watching with a bemused smile as the men fled, Tattali returned her gaze to the coffin, running her hand over the lid, admiring the ornately carved baobab wood and savoring the gentle tingle of the magic still vibrating within its fibers, a spell cast by some nameless sorcerer countless centuries ago.
She lifted the lid and gazed upon the [[corpse.]]
[[12<-continue]]
A few of the oldest coffins are empty, for their bottoms have given way, the wood rotted by the constant caresses of the river mist. When the mummified corpses fall out, some strike the river bank and break into pieces. Others land in the water and are carried downstream to the Lake of Dead Bathers, where locals fish them out with nets or long poles and carry them back to their homes and set them in a corner, ringed by joss sticks and small copper medallions bearing the likenesses of various gods, for it is believed such shrines bring good fortune.
In winter, if times are hard, the corpses are tossed into the hearth to feed the fire. But the spirits of the dead don’t mind, for the rising smoke carries their earthly essence up to heaven, where body and spirit reunite and all the earthly sensations they enjoyed in life are experienced once more.
[[10a<-continue]]
A dried-out husk, shriveled and wrinkled, with sunken cheeks and puckered, empty eye sockets. The arms were folded over the chest, the skeletal fingers adorned with several rings – catseye, lapis and emerald – and clutching a dried-out flower stalk, the petals long gone, crumbled to dust. The corpse wore a shroud of crimson silk decorated with golden-threaded filigree and strange symbols whose meanings are long forgotten.
The man’s name is lost to history, although he must have been well known in his day, a landowner or wealthy merchant or a warlord or even a prince, someone who could afford the exotic magic that elevated his body to this exalted spot, distancing him from the lowly world of common men and bringing him closer to heaven.
[[12<-continue]]
“Awaken, sleeping one, and tell me your story,” Tattali said in a voice like a nightingale.
The river mist rose up around the coffin and poured inside, thickening into white fog, which sculpted itself into a semblance of the man as he must have appeared in life.
“I am Burebbel,” the specter said. “I lived in Samquee in a [[grand house]] made of trollstone.”
[[13<-continue]]
“The rooms were filled with fine furniture crafted in Jidorpra; the walls adorned with rich tapestries woven in Cha'tord. Gnomestone floors gleamed in the radiance cast by crystal chandeliers. The cushions of my chairs and the pillows on my bed were made of scarlet silk stuffed with unicorn hair. My dining table glittered with goblets and plates of solid gold, and utensils of sterling silver. Marigolds and roses and orchids and chrysanthemums blossomed in my garden. Swans glided across the mirrored surface of a pond ringed by marble statues of mythological beasts. I whiled away many happy evenings standing on the curved redwood bridge above the pond, tossing bread crumbs into the water and listening to the babbling fountains.”
[[13<-continue]]
“One evening as I strolled past the chrysanthemums in my garden I was accosted by an intruder – a [[mandrake man]] who erupted from the soil and grabbed me by the throat. I tried to fight him off, but I was no warrior. What can a spice merchant do against a monster? My flailing fists punched small dents in its waxy flesh, but nothing more. Within seconds he crushed my larynx and life deserted me.”
[[14<-continue]]
A faceless seven-foot-high humanoid figure with legs ending in pointy stumps, and big hands with fingers thick as sausages. Its waxy flesh was light brown with black blotches, where nibbling aphids had left their mark. Clumps of dirt hung from stringy gray hair. And between its legs, no peg nor slot.
[[13<-continue]]
“That’s horrible!” Tattali said. “How did such a nasty thing get into your garden?”
“Such abominations do not grow naturally; they must be planted. No doubt the seedling was purchased from the witches of Drauthenboch, who are well known for the loathsome things they cultivate in their sinister gardens. It’s just the sort of thing Irksoth would buy. He was quite cunning, preferring to have others do his dirty work while his hands remained unsoiled.”
[[15<-continue]]
“Who was Irksoth?”
“My brother-in-law.”
“Why would he want to kill you?”
“He desired Felocipi. My wife.”
Tattali gasped. “He lusted after his own sister?”
“His depraved hungers knew no limits. Since childhood he’d been feeding her sweetmeats laced with [[elf-dust]], which left her powerless to resist his incestuous advances. Her marriage to me put a stop to it – for awhile. But in the end his sick desires overcame his sanity and he resorted to murder.”
[[16<-continue]]
Contrary to popular misconception, elf dust is not composed of the pulverized bodies of dead elves, nor is it a potion made by elves. It was given that name by the noted chemist, Lord Alfred Sunden-Reyes, who saw elven creatures while under the influence of the dust, which he derived from moonweed plants during experiments in his laboratory in Edinburg.
[[15a<-continue]]
“That’s a lie!” rasped a new voice, as one of the other coffins flew swiftly toward the first. It slowed down as it came close, but didn’t stop till it bumped against Burebbel’s box.
The lid on the second coffin snapped open and a foggy figure leapt up.
[[17<-continue]]
“I am Irksoth,” it said to Tattali. “And it was my sister who planted the mandrake man.” He thrust a quivering arm at Burebbel. “For years he beat her and berated her and forced her to perform unwholesome acts, even rented her out to his male friends when times were lean. That is why she longed for his demise!”
“You’re the liar!” Burebbel said. “Felocipi loved me and it drove you mad with jealousy!”
[[18<-continue]]
“She never loved you. Her parents loved the dowry you offered and she had no say in the matter.”
“Be silent, you fork-tongued devil!”
“Make me!”
As Tattali backed her carriage away from the confrontation the ghostly figures sank into their corporeal forms, which jumped to their feet and fought fiercely, grappling and growling as bits of desiccated flesh flaked off their husky bodies.
*Crack!*
[[19<-continue]]
The bottoms of the two coffins broke open and the men plunged downward and splashed into the river, which swiftly carried them away.
[[20<-continue]]
A month later, on a cold and blustery winter night in the village of Tuk-Quant, streams of smoke rose from the chimneys of the cottages. Two of the streams intertwined for a few moments, twisting and juddering as if caught in some strange vortex, then parted and continued on their way, spiraling swiftly toward the starry vault of heaven.
THE END
[[Dragon lair atop Mount Untodra<-visit Mount Untodra]]The visitors come from all over. Tourists mostly, and a goodly number of scholars and clerics. All leave awed and baffled and unnerved by their experience.
[[10<-continue]]“His depraved hungers knew no limits. Since childhood he’d been feeding her sweetmeats laced with [[elf-dust]], which left her powerless to resist his incestuous advances. Her marriage to me put a stop to it – for awhile. But in the end his sick desires overcame his sanity and he resorted to murder.”
[[16<-continue]]