Wulfstan’s eyelids fluttered, and he awoke slowly to the feeling of soft, silken breezes caressing his face. His eyes were filled with the purest white that he had ever seen.
A mystical ambiance surrounded him. He wondered whether he had expired in his mortality, and had entered into the heavenly realms of the All-Father. The atmosphere evoked all of the types of legendary images concerning the celestial realms of Palladium, including the accounts described by everyone from the simplest of village priests to the most erudite of monks, the latter of the kind that Wulfstan’s uncle had oft interacted and traded with.
The thought of being alive in the bosom of the afterworld was instantly sobering. It brought Wulfstan to a state of full alertness, as he lifted his back off the ground, and subsequently pulled his knees up so that he was in a more comfortable sitting position.
At that moment, he heard the quork of a startled raven, turning just in time to witness its black form flying off with haste. He stared after the raven, as the dark bird sped low across a scene that was as fascinating as it seemed to transcend reality.
Delicate vapors wafted over a broad terrain composed of the cushioning, white substance that he was currently sitting upon. Hills and valleys of the white material could be seen stretching to the horizon, as well as a randomly strewn variety of other strange shapes and formations.
To Wulfstan’s eyes, the sight resembled the winter wonderlands that he had known several times in his own life, when the skies draped the hills and fields of Wessachia in thick blankets of snow. Yet the impossibility of that notion, and a dawning realization, threatened to make his mind spin.
Wulfstan had a little idea as to what the environment around him was not; and he had more than an inkling as to what it was.
He knew that he could not be on a simple cloud, of the types that he had traversed on the back of the winged steed. He remembered quite well how he and the Himmeros had flown through them without incident during his desperate ascent.
No matter what its appearance looked like when gazing down from above, no cloud could support the weight of a man or beast. The clouds felt like the mists and fogs that shrouded the woods on the ground, and posed no obstructions whatsoever to his passage in flight. Wulfstan knew with certainty that he could not sit on one.
As he scanned the area, looking to the left and right, his gaze fell upon the form of his Himmeros, lying nearby. Spirit Wing’s body was heaving, smoothly and steadily, with each relaxed breath. The creature was curled up, fast asleep, with its wings tucked snugly into its sides.
The sight bestowed a feeling of relief over the smattering of guilt that lay deeper within Wulfstan. He knew that he had pressed the poor animal harshly, beyond all its known limits of endurance. While the larger part of him did not regret the action, as it was undertaken to help Saxany avert a terrible doom, he was nonetheless gladdened by the knowledge that the Himmeros was unharmed.
It was then that he emerged fully from the initial shock of his strange surroundings. He brought more focus upon the reason that he had set off on the risky, and likely foolhardy, flight in the first place.
The footing underneath the leather soles of his shoes was extremely unusual, like nothing that he had ever felt before. It had a little give and bounce, as he lifted his knees slightly and set his feet back down, feeling the odd sensations derived from pressing against the unfamiliar surface.
Carefully, he got to his feet. He turned around in place, to take a look behind him. The white terrain in that direction held no rises, and it did not spread to the horizon. Rather abruptly, the low span of white came to an end about fifty paces from where he now stood.
Slowly, Wulfstan walked over towards the edge. When reaching it, as if on the brink of a cliff’s boundary, he got down to his belly, crawling the last few paces so that he could peer over the edge without feeling wholly insecure. Despite the reassurance from having his body supported, his stomach churned as he gazed downward.
There were stratified layers of clouds scudding by far below, designating a mind-boggling distance that culminated in solid ground. Nothing about the land was distinct from the lofty heights, and Wulfstan wasted no time trying to identify any specific places. It was like looking down upon a vast cloak fashioned with greenish hues. The movements of the clouds, themselves imbued with misty, shifting qualities, gave evidence that they were what they appeared to be, entirely unlike the surreal substance that Wulfstan now rested his weight upon.
As he looked down at one group of randomly sprinkled clusters, he realized that he was gazing upon the second level of clouds that he had passed through during his long climb upward. It was then that he wondered whether his whimsical, desperate idea, born of dreams, and adhered to with a fanatical effort, had somehow come true.
At that moment, he heard a low rumble.
The snow-like ground, if the unfamiliar substance could be termed in such a way, shook underneath Wulfstan, in a slow, rhythmic fashion. Edging back a few paces from the lip of the enormous drop, he got back to his feet, feeling the powerful vibrations through his shoes. Carefully, with more than a little trepidation clenching his gut, he rotated his body and head around, facing towards the source of the low-pitched resonance. Off in the distance, striding out from behind one of the ubiquitous, hill-like formations, was a living spectacle that froze Wulfstan in place.
By then, the rumblings had roused the Himmeros from its deep, restful sleep. With a nervous grunt, Spirit Wing swiveled its head towards the swelling noise. Seeing what Wulfstan was witnessing, the Himmeros’ head snapped back immediately, its gaze orienting upon the place where the Saxan was standing. Shifting about, and getting its paw-like feet braced underneath it, Spirit Wing lurched up agilely, and hastily loped back to where Wulfstan gazed in awestruck wonderment.
As if instinctively, Wulfstan’s hand shot out, grabbing Spirit Wing’s tether forcibly before the creature could entertain any notions of escaping off the edge of the terrain behind them. The Himmeros’ eyes were brimming with fear, and the agitated creature shifted about, tugging at the leather cording, as Wulfstan desperately tried to calm the terrified beast. It whined and whimpered, as Wulfstan had to anchor his legs to resist the creature’s pull.
“Spirit Wing! Hold here with me, it’s alright… it’s going to be alright,” he said to the Himmeros, somehow keeping his voice from shaking.
There was nobody to soothe Wulfstan, though, and his eyes could not mask the fright spiraling within him as he glanced back towards the colossal vision approaching them. His mouth twitched in his extreme anxiety, while his very breath was trapped in his chest. A cold, clammy feeling spread through him, and his chest constricted further, as he resisted the initial, compelling impulse to simply mount the Himmeros and fly far, far away.
Another force inside him resisted the urges. He had come for a stated purpose, believing that he had reason to trust his instincts, dreams, and the recognition of the anomalous white patch in the upper reaches of the sky. That intended ambition revolved around an uncertain hope; that an ancient race of creatures, immortalized through song and tale, did truly exist in a heavenly exile.
Though of ancient origin, the songs and tales he had heard indeed resonated with truth, as the evidence before Wulfstan’s eyes could not be denied. Breathtaking and terrifying at once, the monstrosity approaching him caused his mind to grapple to comprehend what his eyes continued to reveal to him.
Bright, silvery wings, vast in size, and shining resplendently in the light cascading down without hindrance from above, were carried outstretched, lending the regal bearer of them an exalted appearance. An elongated, supple body, whose scales shone with a silvery hue, was conveyed forward upon robust, well-developed legs. Pronounced lines of muscles, each contour appearing to be skillfully etched and sculpted into the creature’s flesh, wound their way down the length of the appendages to end in sets of extensive claws. The talons themselves looked wickedly sharp, like giant, curving sabers fastened into its broad feet.
Despite its incredible size, the creature proceeded forth with a grace of motion that was extraordinary to behold. The protracted, capacious head of the beast emerged smoothly from its thickset neck, the latter continuing in similar fashion from its base into the main portion of its body. The harmonizing line of its neck and head were carried on an even level with the upper spinal ridge running along the length of its back, giving the titanic creature a rather flattened profile. The magnificent beast had a prominent tail, one that comprised a significant portion of its overall length.
Enveloped in a swirling, pulsing amalgam of paralyzing fear, astonished incredulity, and sheer wonder, Wulfstan could do no more than watch as the beast strode resolutely towards him. Each step of the creature shook the ground underneath, building in force as it drew steadily closer. The winged colossus loomed ever larger, each stride continuing to fill up the field of Wulfstan’s vision. It was of a scale that Wulfstan would have previously thought to be unfathomable. At last, it seemed as if there was nothing else in the world, save for the silvery titan rising up before the awed Saxan.
Wulfstan had never imagined anything dwelling in the world of Ave that could be so incredible. Even after having witnessed the immense Darroks, he could not have envisioned something so gigantic and elegant as the living legend before him.
The creature appeared far larger than the fabled stories described. It was a stunning, overwhelming revelation, as Wulfstan knew full well that tales commonly tended to exaggerate in their claims.
The height alone of the gargantuan creature was staggering to behold, even in comparison to the Darroks. Like the Darroks, its wings were enormous in proportion to its body. Even with the great scale of the wings, the structure of the creature’s body exuded an inherent level of physical strength that truly was inconceivable to Wulfstan.
He had always accepted the fascinating tales about the ancient creatures as reflecting some distant truth, in that the mythical beasts had gone into exile under the perception that they were too powerful to continue residing in the world of humankind. Now that he was witnessing the unobstructed reality with his own eyes, he understood such reasoning more clearly than ever before. There was nothing in the world that could be much of a threat to such a formidable beast, save for great sorcery, or perhaps an incredible weapon, of siege engine size.
Tilting its huge head downward, the monstrous being fixed Wulfstan with an encompassing, mesmerizing gaze, which seemed to swallow up his comparatively diminutive form within its depths. The dark round pupils of its eyes were like portals to a shrouded abyss, beckoning to realms as vast and mysterious as they were dangerous and foreboding. Most notably, there was an ancient, surreal aura around the creature, one that went far beyond its impressive physical presence.
The great jaws of the creature, wide enough that several humans could easily stand within them, spread apart, as it opened its mouth. An abundant forest of serrated, backward curving teeth was unveiled, each and every glistening tooth a deadly weapon by itself.
“Young human of the lands below,” the majestic creature stated.
It spoke evenly in the common tongue of the Saxans, startling Wulfstan even further. The words were carried within a deafening voice, one that was as deep and regal in tone as it was capable of resounding all throughout the wide expanse around them. Wulfstan listened enraptured, and with great trepidation, as the creature continued its address to him, using his own language.
“What brings you to try to reach the Forbidden Dominions? No man can come here of his own volition,” the creature thundered. “Even the Wizards are banned from these realms, as we banned ourselves from yours and theirs. I trust that you were not trying to destroy yourself, for such is foolishness.
“I could only believe that you were seeking us. Were it not so, you and your loyal steed would have died after a terrible descent. Know that your steed reached only a little farther than you, before it could go onward no longer. Others of my kind may have allowed you to fall, for the divide between our kinds has long been set. I chose not to let you die, as I wanted to hear the reason for your foolishness for myself. Be grateful that I am considered to be of good humor among my kind.”
Wulfstan nodded nervously, knowing very well what the legendary creature was that now towered over him, a fact confirmed even more by what it had said. Faced with the undeniable reality of its existence, his heart and courage wavered. He struggled within a wave of confusion and fear, and it seemed as if his wits had entirely abandoned him. The creature silently regarded him with its absorbing eyes, patiently waiting for the human to respond.
“The Elder, yes… I was… it is desperate in Saxany below. And I knew that I must… try to find your kind,” he stumbled, trying in vain to sound confident, and to raise his voice, as the sound of it was so tiny and minute in comparison to that of the Elder Dragon.
“Collect your wits about you,” the venerable dragon replied, with an unmistakable hint of amusement at his discombobulated state. “Yes, I am of the Elder. You have heard of our kind. Or you would not know that name, or have come to this place. Then you should also know well that our kind is no longer involved in the world of mankind, until the End of Days comes. We are bound by the Oath, made during the waning days of the First Age of this world.
“Now tell me again, and delay no further, why did you undertake such a reckless effort to reach my sanctuary?”
Wulfstan could feel the scrutiny coming from the creature like an increasing pressure, as he scrambled for the best way to answer the awe-inspiring beast.
“We need your help,” Wulfstan blurted out quickly, shouting up at the Elder.
The words were simple but direct. They were also bluntly honest. He paused for a moment, taking a few deep breaths as he tried to gain some small measure of confidence.
Despite the massive, fearsome features of the Elder Dragon, Wulfstan realized that the creature’s voice, demeanor, and aura, while grand in scope, were not meant to intimidate him. It was hard not be frightened in its awesome presence, but he could see that the creature was trying to take a soothing posture with him, as best as such a majestic creature could do.
It was no simple-minded beast, governed solely by hunger, fatigue, and primal urges for mating, but rather an ancient intelligence, with a perspective and lifespan that was extraordinary just to comprehend. Such a creature was now personally regarding Wulfstan, with more than a passing interest. As before, it waited patiently for him to collect himself, and his thoughts.
“I fear the End of Days are upon us… at least in some ways. I know no Wizards… and I am no great man among the Saxan people below. I am just a ceorl, driven by desperation, who came here only on faith in old tales, a glimpse of this place from below, and recurring dreams I have had for a long, long time. I also came because of what the tales say, about what the Elder once stood for,” Wulfstan responded, finding a better grasp of his thoughts and composure.
Catching his breath for a couple of moments, as he was straining his lungs to give volume to his words, he continued, “Even if not the End of Days, it is the end of the world that I know, and that a great many know. An evil power has risen in the world below, wielded by a Man said to be of fair appearance and gifted with wisdom. That power is not of the All-Father, as it casts a dark and bloody shadow wherever its touch falls. This one Man is taking all power to Himself, and now moves to control all lands and kingdoms.”
The Elder listened to him attentively, and paused for a moment before responding to Wulfstan’s statements.
“Many who have heralded the End of Days are now spirits separated from the dust that once cloaked them. None can say when the End of Days is to occur, but the One that brought days into being,” the dragon replied somberly. “Did you ever wonder if I know of this Man you speak of, or what your war is about?”
If the dragon were not so fearsome, and Wulfstan not so fearful, he would probably have been able to detect the tinges of amusement present in the latter part of the question. Instead of sensing the dragon’s subtle humor, the Saxan ceorl had a sickening feeling come over him, thinking only that the dragon might not have bothered to take account of the affairs of mortals over the ages. The dragon perhaps did not even care who was considered good or evil in the wars of humankind that took place on Ave’s surface, at least until the End of Days.
“You ascended here on a hurried judgement,” the Elder Dragon stated firmly, before Wulstan could begin to muster a reply. The beast lowered its great head a little closer to Wulfstan, as it continued speaking in a slower, more purposeful tone. It was as if the creature wanted to emphasize each and every word to Wulfstan. “Be assured… our kind do watch over the passing of the world, and I do know what besets your world because of this… Man… as you understand Him to be. I speak of the One that you know as the Unifier, which is the name that humans in all realms call Him. I also believe that you did not come to me for just wisdom or knowledge. You have come to seek the help of the Elder in your affairs… have you not?”
Wulfstan nodded slowly in the affirmative, wholly relieved that the Elder had openly voiced the singular, most important question he had carried inside of him to the upper skies. There was no room to be anything less than direct with the Elder, now that the momentous subject had been broached.
Straightening up, and craning his neck, he looked directly into the eyes of the Elder. He tried to convey his deep sincerity as he answered, “Yes. All of the legends of your kind that I have ever heard speak of your faithful allegiance to the All-Father. I do not come to ask you to fight our war. It is just that we have no time left to us… the darkest hour our land has ever faced has come, and we must find help if we can, and warn others in this world, such as those from Midragard. I know of no other who can help us do this, as we have little time. It was a choice of trying to find you, or to do nothing, and watch Saxany and all those I love be destroyed. I could not choose to do nothing.”
The Elder Dragon hesitated for a few seconds. For a brief moment, the creature’s gaze shifted, looking past him as if taking a glance into the depths of time itself. Wulfstan sensed something in the Elder’s detached look, and believed that he detected the presence of some kind of inner pain on the part of the dragon.
“Only part of what you have heard about us remains true. Once, the things that you heard were all true, and the things of that age formed the knowledge recorded in the tales that were passed down. Most of our kind are still in allegiance to the All-Father, and continue to accept the Ban willingly,” the Elder Dragon stated, with the faraway look yet lingering within its great eyes.
The creature then appeared to become lost in inner reflections for another moment or two, before bringing its eyes back down to look upon the small human before it.
“Since the ancient times, a few of our kind have turned their hearts to the Lord of the Deep Darkness, Jebaalos. They resent the Ban, and seek for a way to break the Oath. Their hearts darken, and their rage grows with each day that passes in this world. There are some among our kind that fear that these others are readying themselves in a hidden manner, to fight for the Unifier… though I do not know how they will withstand the binding formed by the Oath. Strange and wicked times are upon us, both your kind, and ours. As to your desire… yes, I will assist you in any way that I can, though know that I am still bound by the Oath, which is no small thing.”
The great Dragon’s voice then softened a little, as it finished, “There is a rare valor dwelling in you, human… even if it is a reckless one. You harbor a courage that is not common in this troubled age.”
Wulfstan was struck to the point of being dumbfounded by the creature’s extensive response. Not only had his gut instincts regarding the existence of the Elder turned out to be accurate, but the dragon had swiftly, and openly, agreed to assist him.
He had achieved everything that he had sought on a fragile hope and whim, having left the surface of the world that he knew far behind, with only the faintest ghost of a chance to inspire him onward. Wulfstan was utterly stunned at the quick acquiescence of the legendary creature to his petition.
“Time is no friend to you now, as you have said. And I know myself well enough after many millenia, to know that I am not hasty in the directions I choose,” the great dragon then continued, as if perceiving Wulfstan’s amazement at its cooperation. “You show wisdom in speaking of Midragard. Only the lands of Midragard can be of any help to you now, and they must also be warned. They bend no knee to the Unifier, and are a strong and proud people. They saved many of my kind’s smaller brothers and sisters, the ones that yet live in the lower world. For this reason alone, the people of Midragard are owed a debt.”
“Smaller brothers and sisters?” Wulfstan asked, curiosity spurring him to inquire.
“The dragons of your world, who live there even now,” the Elder replied. “There is no time to speak further on this, as I must take you to Midragard with no delay.”
“To Midragard? Now?” Wulfstan responded, bewildered by the declaration.
“It is the only land that may be able to bring aid to your people, and that is why you sought my help… so what benefit is it to you to wait any longer?”
“There is none,” Wulfstan admitted, shouting the answer back up to the dragon.
“Another thing… I can hear you well enough, if you speak in a normal manner, as you would among other humans. Our senses are exceptional,” the creature then informed him, with no trace of haughtiness in its booming voice.
“I will,” Wulfstan yelled up in response, before catching himself. He then resumed a vocal level that would be considered conversational around a cook fire back in the Saxan encampment. “I mean, I will.”
“That should spare your lungs and voice a little,” the dragon replied, with another flare of subtle mirth. “So do you wish to tarry further?”
Wulfstan shook his head, and then replied. “No, I am ready to go with you.”
“We are about to go forth, and I still do not know your name, human,” the dragon replied, with obvious amusement. “What is the name by which you are called?”
“Wulfstan,” he returned. “Son of Ealdred. From Sussachia, a province of Saxany.”
“I am known as Bevriedak, of the Elder, though I am afraid that I do not hail from any place, unless you deem this part of the Forbidden Dominions to be so,” the huge dragon replied. “Well met, Wulfstan. Now let us waste no more time. I will have to take you and your steed within my claws, as you could not breathe the air beyond this haven. It would be death for you beyond the edge of this place, where the ground gives way to the open sky.”
The dragon lifted up its front right claw, and slowly extended it forward. As it set its clawed foot downward, the dragon rotated it so that the underside of the foot faced upward, to enable Wulfstan and his steed to climb up to its surface.
Wulfstan turned towards the Himmeros, which had remained at his side throughout the verbal exchange. He had not thought of the steed during the conversation, though his clenched hand was still taut upon its tether.
In some ways, he was very surprised that the brawny steed had not tried to bolt away. Perhaps Spirit Wing had sensed the dragon’s non-threatening intentions from the beginning, on a level that Wulfstan had not initially perceived. It was the only reason that he could think of why Spirit Wing had not made for the edge, and dragged him along in its wake.
Whether or not the Himmeros had been reassured, at least enough not to try and run away, Spirit Wing still exhibited great trepidation regarding the notion of approaching the dragon. Defiantly, it dug its paws firmly into the white, spongy surfacing, locking its legs as Wulfstan tried to coax the nervous creature towards the opened, offered underside of the dragon’s claws. He could not entirely blame the Himmeros for its reluctance, as the Elder’s sharp talons looked far more deadly than any sword or axe ever forged upon a skilled blacksmith’s anvil.
Wulfstan then turned his head back up and around, as he heard the sonorous voice of the dragon calling out again. This time, the sounds coming from the dragon’s mouth were unintelligible, though from their timbre and pattern Wulfstan guessed them to be some manner of words. He knew at once that the words were not intended for him, in any way. His eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed in confusion, as the dragon continued to speak in the strange, unknown tongue. The language was harmonious and flowing in its cadence, and it made the dragon’s voice lighten even further from the deep, imposing tone that it had used to address Wulfstan.
The Saxan’s attention was diverted once more, as the rigid tether holding the Himmeros close to him suddenly slackened. Inexplicably, Spirit Wing brushed right by him towards the open, extended claws, showing not one sign of its former apprehension.
In a few moments, the Himmeros was tugging Wulfstan forcibly towards the claw. With a stronger yank, Spirit Wind lifted him off of his feet, and pulled him a couple of steps forward, bringing him out of his momentary stupor.
“The language of the First Age, spoken by the servants of the All-Father,” the Elder dragon explained to Wulfstan, resuming the Saxan speech once again. “I will speak to you later of it as well. But know that it is a tongue good for speaking to all manner of creatures brought into this world by the All-Father.”
With some effort, Wulfstan was able to find footholds and handholds in the leathery roughness of the dragon’s skin. The grips that he was afforded enabled him to clamber up onto the surface of the upturned claw. He strode to the middle of the great claw, where the Himmeros now stood in a relaxed manner. He flinched slightly, as the giant talons of the dragon closed in slowly, to fully encase their bodies.
The dragon brought its claws together delicately, until Wulfstan and the Himmeros were held relatively snugly near the center. Wulfstan then shifted and rotated, as he felt the dragon carefully turning its clenched talons over, while keeping its right foreleg lifted up off the ground.
A moment later, he was jostled abruptly, as the great bulk of the creature lurched forward. The dragon stepped forward somewhat awkwardly on its three unencumbered feet. After a few more paces, Wulfstan felt the dragon come to a halt. He knew that they were on the outermost edge of the floating snow-land, at the very cusp of the dizzying, plunging fall to the distant ground.
His heart started racing, as he felt the tension rippling through the dragon’s body. He had a good idea of what was about to happen, and did not want to think about it at all.
The Elder’s body rocked backward, just before its rear legs propelled its massive bulk forward in a strong leap, springing the great dragon far from the edge that Wulfstan had so carefully, and timidly, looked over just a short while before. There was a gliding sensation for a couple of moments, before a brief, sharp dip, as the creature’s vast wings stretched out and seized on the air. The sound of the dragon’s wings beating through the air, stirring up a tempest in their own right, filled Wulfstan’s ears. He felt his stomach grow queasy with the unpleasant sensations coming over him, and felt that it would not be much longer before he began to retch.
As if in reflex, he clutched tightly onto the neck of the Himmeros, which was now lying by his side. As Wulfstan’s hands grabbed fistfuls of its fur, Spirit Wing whined and fidgeted in the darkness of the dragon’s hold. Wulfstan trembled in fear as the dragon’s body alternately rose and fell, doing his best to endure as the creature worked to attain a level of equilibrium in its flight.
Gradually, the sharp fluctuations of motion steadied significantly, as the dragon settled down into a rhythmic trajectory. Wulfstan was grateful for both the darkness of the talon-enclosure, and for the imminent presence of the sky steed. He could take some succor from Spirit Wing’s company, while not being faced outright with the altitude that they were being carried at.
He rested his head against the Himmeros, making himself as comfortable as he possibly could, given the circumstances. The sky steed’s coarse fur lay against his right cheek, and the musky scent of it filled his nostrils.
Wulfstan’s stomach continued churning a little, although the nausea did not advance into an overwhelming degree of sickness. He felt his heart leap, to varying degrees, as the dragon continued bobbing in its flight. Sometimes he felt a sudden, sharp drop, and at other times he felt the dragon abruptly rising up, or sliding quickly to one side or the other, buoyed by the shifting, sudden winds, powerful enough to affect a body as immense as the Elder’s. A cold sweat eventually broke out on Wulfstan’s forehead, and a clammy feeling encompassed him, as he struggled to steel his nerves to the unpredictable lurches.
After what seemed like an eternity of being buffeted about, there was an extended period where Wulfstan felt the dragon’s wings pumping more furiously. With what little experience he had gained in flying, he recognized the sensation as coming from a steady climb in height. When the dragon leveled out its flight once again, their progress went much smoother than before. As squeamish as Wulfstan was feeling, it was a very welcome development.
As high as they had been on the floating white mass, where Bevriadak dwelled, Wulfstan could not believe that they had not yet run into the upper firmament; the lofty place where the stars were said to be positioned in the night. The explanation was probably just a simple matter, in that his judgement of spatial distance was rendered ineffective by the unblemished smoothness of the upper firmament. Perhaps there was a much greater distance to it than he had initially fathomed.
Even so, he knew that they were flying at an altitude that was far, far beyond anything that could be reached by a living creature of the world below. The comprehension of that sobering notion evoked his gratitude once more, over the fact that he and the Himmeros were being conveyed in a state of complete darkness. He was certain that his nerves and mind would not be able to handle the view currently spread out beneath the dragon’s claws.
It took him well over an hour to wrestle his anxieties down to a point where he stopped worrying about every slight shift in turbulence. The makeshift carriage created by Bevriedak’s closed claw was rough to endure for an extended journey, but Wulfstan was not about to complain.
After a short while, he noted the dragon climbing up a little higher. He then closed his eyes, resting his weight fully against the Himmeros’ body. The sky steed was now breathing easily, evidently having come to acceptable terms with the manner of their travel. Wulfstan was not nearly as relaxed as the steed, as he still felt tightness in his gut, and a skip in his heartbeat with pronounced movements of the dragon, but he found himself slowly acclimating.
Though Wulfstan had little way of knowing what time it was outside, or even how much distance they had covered, he knew that he had no major concerns to contend with. For all intents and purposes, it was a miracle that he had even reached Bevriedak. Lightning had struck twice in the same place, as Wulfstan had been successful in securing the dragon’s cooperation.
It still seemed unbelievable that he was going to Midragard in the willing company of an Elder, a living legend out of story and song. But this was not another instance of his recurring dreams.
A dream of legends had guided him to a tremendous reality, breathing and living, soaring through the uppermost skies of Ave.
Wulfstan would soon be able to reach out for help, to come to the aid of his beleaguered homeland, just as his wildest hopes had aspired to do. Against all probability, a chance still existed. It had grown much stronger since the moment that Wulfstan had decided to risk everything, and take to the skies on the back of a Himmeros, holding fast to a dream and trusting his instincts. Already he had achieved a tremendous success, as the great wings of an Elder had lifted him above the impossible, and were carrying him ever closer to the possible.