Story: The Sword Of The Dragon, Part I

The morning dawned shrouded in mist. The Lady rose and stepped out of the hovel where she’d sought shelter in the night. The wood looked much like the land of fairies she conjured in her mind those short years ago, when she sat at her governess’s feet listening to stories woven just for her.

The mist hovered near a foot from the ground, leaving clear view for the tiny folk, and stopped in swirling wisps not four foot above leaving clear view above for the Lady. She stepped into it and spun around. The wisps spun with her in a current like a whirlpool.

Magic! The Lady thought.

She was seen. The watcher was intrigued. Who was this fair child who danced in the mist? From where had she come? Where were her people? Did she know the danger she courted alone, here, in this place?

The Lady was quite alone. And it was so by her own design. Months had passed as she planned this journey to anywhere. A year had passed since she stepped away from taboo and fear and gave her word to her soul to find freedom.

All of her life she felt drawn away from the world she knew. Separate from those she lived with. The myths and tales woven for her as a child were more real to her than the life she lived. And she came to believe the encouraging words of woman who spoke the tales for her. The old woman assured her that the places of the myths were real. That it was the Lady’s destiny to rule there.


Dreams of the world beyond her home consumed her. In the last weeks, they occupied her day as much as her nights. The dreams were compelling and the messages persistent. In her dreams she saw a man. It was clear he was a man of rank and power, yet in her dreams he came to her in the humble attire of a peasant. Something about the man made her feel safe. He was strong. She knew instinctively that his arrival in her dreams was a cue she must not ignore. The Lady sensed that it was time.

So she set out.

She knew the risk she took to escape the castle and then the walls of the city, was great. But it was as if the world she was leaving stopped and its existence parted to let her walk free. No one saw or challenged her. The ease of her escape was not apparent to her though as her body thrilled at each turn, anxiety pulsed through her as she moved past people; sure she was recognized, and certain that at any moment she would be stopped.

It took only an hour to leave the city and enter the woods. Her way was clear, her sense of direction innate. Before the day was half over the Lady found the farm with the horse with four white socks promised to her in the tales by the old governess. The Lady did as she was taught in the lessons at the old woman’s knee. She laid a purse of gold on the table, donned clothes from the chest in the home, packed bread and cheese and jiggers of wine in the leather pack she found there. And then she mounted the horse and rode him where her instinct would take her.

Now looking back the Lady wondered at her luck. Was it luck, or were the words of the old woman true? It was her destiny to leave.

Here in this magical place this misty morning, the Lady knew, it was her destiny.


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