The Forgotten by Bianca Alu-Marr

Zareen Orla was all scales, zooming by in glimmering flashes of gold and white. She soared above the clouds, feeling the wind upon her face and stinging her eyes, the membrane of her inner eyelid engaged. The air was fresher and bluer up there and she loved it. Away from the stench of humanity: the oil, gas, and steel that had rolled over and transformed her world.

It was a welcome change from the tiny corner she was forced to cower in, where she protected the hoard of treasure, salvaged from her once great kingdom. She was a queen that had ruled powerfully for many centuries, and it was a peaceful reign. That was before they were spawned from the ocean by some evil magic or maybe science, she wasn’t sure.

The whole of her kind had either been wiped out and scattered to all ends of the world, and some fled to space hoping to find a habitable planet to claim. Others that resided within her kingdom like the dwarves were also eventually conquered and slaughtered, or sent fleeing into the deep forests and recesses of the Earth. But Zareen stayed close by to her fallen kingdom that she had loved deeply, mourning her losses, and hiding from murderous human hands.

Loneliness had long ago torn at her mind and then subsided into a cold hard lump that stayed heavy in her heart. And so, her days were filled with nothing but flying and memories, eating a dozen animals or so at night, and drinking from the waterfall that concealed her cramped but cozy home.

One day as she slept on her hoard, she dreamt of herself on a throne made of trees woven together with magic cast by the most powerful wizards in the land. In the dream she was regal and beautiful, her royal crown bejeweled and glittering upon her head.

Many admirers both male and female came to call, to show their talents and wealth, hoping to gain her attention and affection. But being too proud, none seemed equal to her. Now she dreamt this dream of the past with regret, never having loved or been loved.

Tears poured from her eyes and cascaded down over the cool unfeeling surface of stacks of treasure and historic objects. It had become a nightly routine to dream and cry in her sleep. The grief she carried heavier and more cumbersome than any treasure.

A deafening whooshing sound awoke her, and she arose with a start, growling and gnashing her teeth, feeling real terror for the first time since the humans declared war on her people. Zareen’s four large, powerful legs shook uncontrollably beneath her.

“Who goes there?!” she shouted, in her most regal voice. “Show yourself and prepare to meet my wrath!” Booming, her voice echoed through the vast cavern, and caused loose treasure to fall, in miniature avalanches all over the cave floor.

A shadow tentatively rounded the corner, glimmering in the light of the human-made torches she had lit with her fiery breath. Zareen began shrinking, trying to push her massive form into a shadow, or crevasse, or anywhere but out in the open. Like a caged animal waiting for the slaughter, she had nowhere to run. And then, he appeared.

“P-please your majesty d-don’t hurt me,” stuttered a voice that matched her own booming tone. It was a soothing and rumbling sound that shook her chest in more ways than one.

Her heart fluttered in disbelief. She had not encountered, nor heard of any dragons for two-hundred years. “Who are you?! Show yourself to me!” Zareen was practically shrieking now filled with a cautious excitement that set her nerves on fire.

A head emerged, which in the light appeared a gleaming white. Then, eyes of steely-blue and glorious silver horns in a neat and attractive line down the middle.

“Your majesty,” he repeated softly and made his way closer revealing a large, majestic body covered in magical scales so fine, her eyes had never witnessed such beauty.

“A dragon?” she asked in a strangled whisper filled with astonishment and awe. “Who are you?” she added, her own amber eyes filling with tears.

“Indeed, I hail from your kingdom. I have been tirelessly seeking you out since you disappeared,” he inched ever closer. “My name is Wandermere of the house of Terra. I was the last one in line to court you when the humans attacked. I humbly present myself to you, Queen Orla.” Bowing deeply, he revealed a single blue, lustrous jewel that had been fused to his forehead.

Queen Orla, having been called by her title for the first time in ages stepped out of the shadows, out of the corner and puffed her chest revealing a stunning gold mane of scales. Her large, amber eyes both deep and mysteriously elegant, blinked in the light revealing feminine eyelids.

“You may rise Wandermere of the house of Terra. It was a fine and noble house,” she boomed, calmer now and filled with curiosity. “Tell me, why do you possess the Grand Jewel of Summoning, embedded in your skull?” she asked.

Wandermere rose slowly, with great grace and reverence. “I am the last great wizard of the house of Terra and heir to the Dukedom,” he said softly. “And I aim to be your betrothed.”

Queen Zareen Orla, once cold and conceited, unable to allow anyone into her heart, audibly gasped, unable to restrain herself and could not form words. It was like she had forgotten how to be a leader and instead was simply a woman caught up in the warm, fragrant winds of romance.

Wandermere took a tentative step forward bowing his head once more. “I’ve offended you! I am deeply sorry my Queen. It’s just that, if I may be so bold, I was taken in the moment with your presence and beauty.” The scales along his spine suddenly shuttered for a minute like he had felt the dragon equivalent to goosebumps. He was shining so brightly in the flickering flames that Zareen wondered how anyone could view him in full sun without going blind.

Composing herself Zareen stood up straight and puffed her chest of golden scales. Forcing words to emerge from her throat, she started with a whisper that rose in volume. “No offense taken Sir Wandermere. It’s just so sudden. I was taken by surprise.”

Inside, Zareen, no Queen Orla she reminded herself, was baffled by her physiological unrest and feeling like she couldn’t get her bearings. So many male and female dragons had tried to woo her with similar words, some even came bearing expensive gifts that mostly bored her to tears. But this dragon was different. He had been weaving a secret web of magic all around her, and she was trapped within, happy to be there.

Wandermere raised his head and couldn’t hide a sly smile. “I’ll slow down my liege. It was sheer excitement and joy to find you after all this time, which caused me to take such liberties.” He took another step forward, the weight of it loosing some treasure. “I have to say the stories of your grandeur were sorely lacking. To see you in person is a delight of all my senses. Even your energy, your aura is like the finest silk. So delicate and yet so…”

“Enough!” Queen Orla shouted, “You try and seduce me with your flowery words. What is it that you really want?!” Emerging fully from her sleep, she froze the warm romantic wind, turning it into a cold and icy storm.

Wandermere could feel the sting, the push, and ceased his playful grin, which fell into a serious and hurt expression.

“You waltz in here and think you can steal away my heart. And my treasure too! Well, I won’t allow it!” Stomping her right front foot in a gesture of anger she opened her large, imposing wings in a show of power and superiority.

“No—I…” Feeling both surprise and fear, Wandermere stumbled back and without another word fled into the night sky with a panicked flap of his wings.

The cave suddenly became a silent, lonely place once again. Queen Orla transformed back into simple Zareen, flying, eating, and sleeping with tears in her eyes as she dreamed. However, Wandermere had left a nagging feeling in her heart that dug in and nestled deeply, pulsating like a beacon. It ached on a daily basis.

She started to second guess her decision to toss him out which was very against her royal character. As a queen she never questioned herself and no-one dared ever question her. “Could Wandermere have actually been sincere?” she thought to herself for fleeting instants. And then she would shake them away and lay her head back down into a restless sleep.

But as the days and weeks passed, and warm summer air started to change to the crisp breezes of fall, Zareen realized that she would have spent over two hundred winters alone, hibernating in her cave with no-one to talk to, or lay beside. Despite her best efforts she couldn’t help but visualize the handsome and magical Wandermere shivering, and alone himself, looking at her through space and time with that hurt and terrified expression. The thought weighed so heavy on her body and soul, that it became hard to fly. His handsome and magical countenance haunted her daydreams, and she spent many days imagining what life could’ve been like if she had let him stay.

One day while pacing in her cave during a thunderstorm, and thinking as she tended to do if the weather was poor for flying, she remembered something from long ago. An image of herself as a child, small and restless, bouncing underneath her father’s massive body came to mind.

“Little Gold one, I have a tale to tell you. Why don’t you stop your bouncing and come sit by the fire?,” he gently chided. Zareen loved him with all of her heart. She especially loved his stories. And so, she didn’t hesitate to abide and nestled by the massive royal fire.

“It all began in the fires of the mountainous caves of our kingdom,” her father began, “Magical beings live and work in these caves, and they call themselves dwarves. These dwarves are tiny master forgers of all sorts of weapons and adornments, some of which the royal family wears to this day.”

Zareen yawned as her body began to feel warmer and cozier by the minute. Her bursts of energy subsided into a puddle of contented scales. “Do I have anything made by dwarves?” she asked sleepily.

“You do my dear, but don’t interrupt. That’s the exciting part!” he chuckled.

“Aw kay,” she yawned again and then became quiet once more.

“So, as I was saying, these dwarves are master forgers and quite good at design as well. They have an eye for the finest materials, and will send their best and brightest out all over the world to procure them. One day, a dwarven scout came back to lay out his finds in front of the head weapon master. Carefully unboxing and unwrapping each item, he described them in great detail, getting mostly unimpressed expressions back. But then, he came to the final item. It was wrapped in a silk cloth inside an intricate box. And as he unveiled it, his master’s eyes widened in awe and surprise.” Zareen’s father paused to take a drink of water from his royal goblet. To Zareen he took ages to take that simple drink.

“What is it? What is it?!” Zareen practically screeched.

“Hold on, hold on. So once this item was fully unwrapped, it was revealed to be a huge blue gemstone, rough cut from the side of some mine, but beauteous and special even so. To the naked eye, the gemstone appeared a stunning and deep blue, but as you turned it, it caught the light and revealed a silver hue as well. The head weapons master gasped and declared, ‘This, my brother, is the Jewel of Summoning. An exceedingly rare and magical jewel worn by dragon wizards of high birth, who it is said can summon anyone or anything they desire.’ The scout broke into a shout of hearty celebration and a feast was had that night, as this stone would make them wealthy for years to come.”

Zareen’s father paused again and took a drink.

“So, is that the end? What do I have that was made by the dwarves? What happened to the stone?” Zareen rattled off, no longer settled into a listening puddle and instead on the edge of becoming bouncy again.

“Ha-ha, you are quite impatient my Little Gold one. But, I will finish it despite your interruptions.”

Setting down his goblet he began again. “As for the Jewel of Summoning, it was refined and polished until it shone and glittered, and was sold for a high price to a wealthy family. It became the family heirloom of those majestic Wizards that live over the tallest mountain in the land. To this day, it is passed down through generations and handed to the first-born child who shows potential for great magic. However, it is not a complete jewel, small bits of it broke off when the scout was transporting it. These they sold to our great family.”

Zareen’s eyes grew wide as she started to realize what he was about to say.

“You, my dear, have a necklace that resides within your hoard and contains one of these pieces.” Having finished his story, Zareen’s father curled up next to her with a sly smile.

Delighted she bounced away around his massive form and laughed, giddy with the excitement of this realization at the climax of such a wonderful tale.

Zareen, now almost as large and aged as her father was back then, opened her eyes. No tears in them this time despite missing her father greatly, who had passed away right before the grand birthday, which signified her transformation from child to woman. Instead, a kind of peace and determination shone within, illuminating their deep amber color. Slowly she rose and loosed some treasure which careened to the ground in a waterfall of gold. “I know what I must do,” she said, looking this way and that, while scanning the room for a speck of deep blue.

Her hoard was organized by eras of her life, but even so it was so large that the piles sometimes fell into each other and mixed. Once a year she would reorganize and try to sort and separate them neatly. It didn’t always come out the way she hoped, and things got lost and missed over time.

Spotting the distant past section, she raced over and began careful sorting, trying not to panic. After several hours she found it, and panting from her efforts, held it up to the light. The blue was stunning.

Zareen was feeling more certain now than ever that this piece of the Jewel of Summoning would bring her to Wandermere. She may not be a Wizard, but she was a Queen and even magic should bend to her will. A will that was iron clad and headstrong. A will that had kept her alive.

Closing her eyes, she held the necklace so tightly in her palm that she felt it digging in. “Shard of Summoning I command you to bring me to Wandermere!” she proclaimed so loudly, her voice boomed and echoed off the cave walls.

Nothing happened. Huffing her breath out of her nostrils in frustration she tried again. “Bring me to Wandermere!” Again nothing. Finally, the missing piece of the puzzle returned to her. It was a memory of her father teaching her how to use the necklace.

“Little Gold One, you must never use this necklace in anger, or with a leader’s pride. You must only use this when you are able to control your emotions and become as calm as a leaf on the river,” he said, and placed it around her neck.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Zareen inhaled and exhaled for what felt like the first time in ages. She felt the tension in her body loosening up, and she realized just how tense she had been for the past two hundred years. That’s what it was. She had been so tense when Wandermere appeared, so defensive, that she couldn’t see clearly. But now she was certain.

“Wandermere wherever you are, I was wrong to send you away. Come back to me,” she said in a whisper filled with hope and emotion.

Suddenly the necklace in her hand became too warm to hold, and she opened her fingers in surprise. It was glowing and vibrating. She could barely hang onto it as the cave walls shook and rumbled for what felt like an eternity, and dirt and debris rained down on her head. Finally, the shaking stopped and silence returned. Looking around Zareen did not see Wandermere.

“It didn’t work! Why didn’t it work?!” Whipping her tail around and knocking over neat stacks of treasure, Zareen began to panic. Her heart was racing and beating so loudly that she swore it echoed off the cave walls. Memories of the screams of her people being cut down, burned alive and overwhelmed by the evil of humans came flooding back. That was the last time that she had panicked and eventually, when she couldn’t fight anymore without dying herself, she fled. An act which caused her great shame for all of these two hundred years.

The sound of her own sobs rang out and she fell to her knees, feeling defeated, alone, and distraught. She let it all out as the rock-hard walls around her heart came crashing down. The reality was that she didn’t have to be a Queen anymore. She could just be a dragon who needed someone to hold her. To tell her it would be OK.

“You called me. You brought me here. How?” A deep masculine whisper cut through the fog of tears and pain.

Zareen slowly lifted her head, misty eyed, and saw Wandermere. He was standing over her and much more handsome than she remembered. “You…you’re here you...” Words eluded her, voice box strangled with emotion.

Leaning down, Wandermere gazed into her eyes lovingly. “I shouldn’t even care why or how you brought me back, but that you wanted me to return.” He whispered in a tone that sent shivers down her spine. “I always knew you were special, that you possessed a will so strong that no-one would dare enchant you. And now I know that you in fact have a talent for magic as well.”

Zareen bade her body to rise, as heavy and worn out as it felt, now unburdened by the armor of leadership or responsibility. “I was wrong to send you away,” she managed to croak out. “I was prideful, afraid. I couldn’t let myself lose the last pieces of my family, my kingdom. I have nothing else left to lose.”

With a sly but compassionate smile, Wandermere took a chance and strode forward until his alabaster chest was pressed up against the golden mane of scales that he had coveted for so long. His neck rubbed against her royal one, and his face lay at its base, rubbing back and forth with a passion.

Zareen gasped in surprise and pleasure as Wandermere’s scent filled her nose. He was wrong to say that she couldn’t be enchanted, because she felt as though a powerful spell had just been cast upon her. Barely able to stand, Zareen stumbled, moaning as each stroke of his face on her body was felt.

“We are meant to be together my Zareen. We shall never part again.” His voice rumbled with authority and conviction. No dragon had ever dared to speak to her in such a way, and it was thrilling beyond her greatest imagination.

Surprising herself she replied, “No my love, we shall never part again.”

Wandermere lifted his head, jewel shining in the torchlight and laughed so deeply it resembled a sob. And then he roared and shook his wings, celebrating this ultimate conquest.

“Let us go fly! I need to flyyyy!” He shouted and pulled her along with the tip of his wing latched to hers, in a mad rush to the mouth of the cave.

Laughing breathlessly for the first time since she was a child bouncing underneath her father’s legs, Zareen allowed him to bring her. And she too began to roar and shout into the night sky. She shouted at the cold and silvery stars listening to her voice travel over the crisp night air and thin out then disappear. Together they launched into the night feeling the wind on their faces and challenging each other to loops and dives, flying over livestock and dipping down for a snack. Finally they intertwined their bodies in an aerial dance of love, passion, and connection.

After that night Wandermere and Zareen were never apart or alone again. It is said that they carefully packed up her massive hoard, and carrying it on their backs, left the cave in search of the other survivors. Making it their mission to gather and preserve dragonkind and its history, they travelled far and wide across the planet and beyond. Their love a powerful force of renewal, hope and joy for all who witnessed it. Maybe, just maybe the dragon nation has begun again with a King and Queen somewhere in this vast Universe.