This story is a complete creation of my increasingly demented mind. Thanks.

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Chapter 1

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Jerob, Drago of the High Sec of the Royale Dragon Clan was a hard man to intimidate. With broad shoulders, heavy muscles and a square, intelligent face topped with brown hair, he was a hard man to bring down as well. But as he entered the large cavern chamber of his Ladyship, he could feel his insides tremble. He had never been summoned in such a way before. Demanded, instead of asked. He had been told recently by his son that She had been easily enraged lately. Drago Jerob of the High Clan had only just returned from a gathering of Roale leaders, and less than an hour after his return, he had received word from The Mother.

Entering her temple quietly, he took the long walk to the shadowed dais. Torches lined the walls of The Mother's temple, casting an eerie glow that flickered. Hidden among the shadows at the end of the walkway was the large dark form of his Ladyship. The dais, enormous as it was, was nothing, compared to the ceiling's measurements necessary to accommodate The Mother's height. He crossed the stone bridge that rose over a moat surrounding the square island in the middle of the temple that housed several high steps, to a long sofa at the very top. Beyond the sofa, in the dark recesses of the room was Her. From the soft glow from the torches, he could make out the gigantic form before him, could hear the steady rhythm of her breathing. Falling to his knees, he touched his head to the bottom step, then sat back on his haunches. In a quiet, submissive voice, he called out, "Mother, I have come as you have ordered."

There was a rustling noise, and from the darkness, he could see her silhouette shift, her graceful neck rise high, and her body moving gently, as she swiveled her head to look down at him. The dark red glow of her eyes within the shadows were the assurance that she was aware of his presence.

"Ah, Jerob," her deep, gravelly voice greeted warmly. "How have you fared?"

Jerob replied seriously, "Very well, Great Mother. The Gathering was quite productive, as I hoped it would be."

The Mother's voice seemed somewhat annoyed and impatient. "Really? Such a group should be commended on their abilities to agree on matters of importance. And their decision," she asked sharply.

"On the point of War, Great Mother, they have decided to continue as you have wished. The Dragon Clan shall remain peacekeepers. We will not declare all out war against any side."

Jerob leaned back as a small burst of flames erupted from the Great Mother's jaws, it's heat fanning his face in a warm caress.

"Mmm, how wonderful," the Great Mother enthused. "What did they say of Drago Teryn's Clan?"

"They have agreed to take in the refugees of his people. I myself have offered shelter to his widow and their children," Jerob informed her.

"How humanitarian of you Jerob. I would have thought it was an absent trait."

"I knew it is what you would have wanted, Mother."

Jerob could feel the intensity of her glowing eyes on him.

"Yes. And my will must always be done?"

"Of course, Great Mother. You are the Womb, the Bringer of Life. Through you we will find perfection and love. You are a Goddess brought to Earth to be the Mother of the Dawn," Jerob recited tranquilly from one of the Prayers to Her.

"Ah. Such Faith in me. Is your Faith strong Jerob?" the Great Mother asked, a deep curiousity in her tone.

"My Faith is limitless. I would live, and die, for you. As would any of the Dragon Clan," Jerob relayed sincerely.

"Why?" she asked.

Jerob jerked back, startled. "Why?" His eyebrows came together in confusion. The temple was marked in silence, as it seemed even She was not breathing, waiting for his reply.

"Because that is the way it has always been, My Mother," came Jerob's bemused voice.

The deep sound of the Mother's breaths broke the silence once more.

"I have learned in the countless millenias of my existence, Jerob," she said quietly, "that that which always was, can never truly remain constantly the same. To survive there must be change. Do you understand?"

In truth, Jerob did not, but he nodded, unable to displease her should she know the truth. "Aye, I do believe I do Great Mother."

Lykia'la sighed, the sound harsh and strangled. "No, I do not believe you do, my son. But you soon will, as will they all. So many years spent trying to make things as they were in the beginning, but we can never go back. She died trying to tell me, but I didn't want to listen."

"My Lady?" Jerob questioned, disturbed by the deep sadness he heard in the Dragon Mother's tone, and unsure how to alleviate her worries.

The Dragon Mother's glowing eyes focused once again on him, her voice gentle. "We have both lost much, you and I. You lost a sister," she sighed as Jerob stiffened at the mention of his bloodkin, a scowl marring his face for a brief moment before disappearing. "I lost the freedom that I so coveted in the time before time. It is a shameful thing, a mother to be afraid of her children."

"There is no reason to fear," Jerob said quickly, "All here, and the tribes spread throughout the land would die protecting you. Even so, no one, not even Lord Delios himself would dare try to harm you. You are still Dragon Mother, daughter of Mother Earth and Herald of Magic. Nothing can harm you."

There was a rough scrapping sound as Lykia'la spread out her enormous wings, flapping softly, creating a burst of wind that nearly put out the torches, and had Jerob bracing his weight down so as not to stagger.

"Nothing you say," she said hoarsely, "how presumptuous."

Jerob looked toward her flaming red eyes, even more puzzled. "Great Mother?"

"I have given up so much for my children Jerob. Such is the price we pay to bring our legacy into this world. Your mother, Casca, she knew of sacrifice. She died protecting my whereabouts from a human king, enduring torture and the likes of which I can not imagine. It is a curse that my children are so clever, and use such gifts to hurt people. For her fealty, your mother will be forever remembered as one of the greatest Dragas of all time. Foolish, isn't it, to wish instead that she had lived long enough to see the children of her children?"

"Draga Casca's death was an honorable one. She died for you," Jerob announced.

"There lies the problem you fool, for I wish none had suffered such a fate, for me or for any other," the Great Mother snarled, causing Jerob to bow his head in shame. She sniffed lightly, a burst of heat escaping from her nostrils, and teasing the hair on Jerob's head.

"All that has been endured was in vain. For millenias I have watched that which I sacrificed for create destruction before my very eyes. I sometimes wonder if I should never have given such an expense for what I have recieved. My only comfort is within your family Jerob. My children..." the Dragon Mother said softly.

Jerob bowed his head lower. "I am honored."

He noted the movement of her head as she turned to stare at the grey and brown stone walls of the cave temple. "How long have I been a prisioner?" she called out quietly.

"My Lady?" Jerob asked warily.

The Dragon Mother's long neck turned to him, coming closer, until the dark red glow of her eyes turned to a redish brown tint, the whites of her eyes visible. The end of her crimson snout moved into the light, and came within several inches of Jerob's face. Though only her snout and eyes were visible to Jerob, he was aware of the dangerous power of this being before him, but felt the fear leave his body, and only the love of Faith envelope him. Sensing his change, the Mother sniffed him, the warm air of her breathe nearly making Jerob smile.

Then, abruptly, the Mother pulled away, her large body shifting until it was in a resting position, her eyes away from his close scrutiny and glowing dark red once more. In a bored tone, she told him, "Send Kya to me. Then inform the Priests and Priestesses that there shall be no ceremony today."

Jerob's eyes widened. No ceremony!

"After my audience with Kya, inform the guard that I will have no further visitors. Such things this day pain me, and I must rest," the Dragon Mother continued lazily.

"But Great Mother, Fera--" Jerob protested.

"I am well aware that your daughter has requested an audience for this day, but the only person I wish to see is Kya," she told him, a dangerous impatience in her voice.

Jerob stood, then bowed. "As you wish Mother," he said carefully.

Bowing once more, he whirled away and walked quickly from the room, his thoughts spinning from their conversation. Once outside, he released a deep sigh. His eldest son, Pitho stood several feet away, eyeing his father in a slow, studied manner that made the older man feel uncomfortable, even if it was from his son.

"Did she ask about the Gathering?" Pitho asked in his deep, monotone voice.

"Of course," his father answered with another sigh. "She wants Kya. Now."

Pitho's brows rose slightly, but less than a second later the expression was gone. "Shall I go search for her myself?" he asked.

Jerob nodded. "But before you do, inform your sister that her meeting with the Great Mother has been canceled."

Pitho frowned fiercely. His sister would be furious, but she would accept it as The Mother's will. "As She wishes Drago." Turning on his heel, Pitho moved down the stone tunnel.

With a sigh, Jerob moved down a corridor in the opposite direction to speak with the High Priest and Priestess, fully aware of the outcry his announcement would make.

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She could smell the blood, almost taste it from the edge of the wood from which she hid from the raiders. A small part of her knew she should cringe in horror from the sounds and smells coming from the village not more than a hundred feet away, but instead she felt an excitement, an awareness that was almost sensual and unheard of for a child her age. The blood that filled the air entered her senses and lit her blood to a fever pitch, and she almost followed her feet into the bloodbath. But the child sense inside her that knew of danger forced her to ignore her instinctual urgings and instead follow the commands of her elders whom had ordered her to remain hidden, safe.

As the battle waged on, she continued to hear cries of pain and sorrow. The sounds were intoxicating, but within the drum of her racing heart, she became frighteningly aware of a single cry, deep inside the village, familiar and strangled. Ignoring the whispered urgings from several other children hiding in the trees, she moved into the village, her bare feet sliding silently across the soft earth. Stepping over and around several dead bodies, she managed to make it to the heart of the village, where, in the fading light of the sun the battle still waged on. In the swiftly approaching darkness she could still make out the stark red-orange hair of a young woman spread across a blood soaked earth and with a small cry raced to her, uncaring now as to the other bodies strewn across the ground.

The woman's deep blue eyes were large, and frightened, and lit with a dawning realization of her fate that terrified her even more. Taking the woman's hand, the child stroked her face. The woman, known to the Roale as Aidria, smiled sadly at the child, and took her hand. In a final attempt to speak, her words sputtered, and mingled with the blood pouring slowly out of her mouth. The child watched as Aidria's body shuddered. With a sigh, the word, "Kya," escaped her lips, and in the growing stillness of the earth's body, Aidria did not breath again.

With a tremelous whimper, the child shook Aidria's body, slapped her face, breathed into her mouth, hoping, praying to the Divine Dragon Mother, that her soul return to her lifeless body. But amidst the clanging swords, and screams of victory or defeat, a young girl's cry of despair seemed to rock the earth. The wind picked up, and hurled leaves to and fro violently across the bodies spread across the ground. A roar split the air, mingling with the child's scream of agony. Unaware of the silence that had spread across the villiage, the young child cradled the dead woman's head in her hands, her pitch black hair clashing against the bloodstained orange hair pooled around Aidria's head. Rocking back and forth she stroked Aidria's cheek, oblivious to the fearful murmurings around her.

"Kya," a gentle voice prodded softly. Rough hands gently grasped her under her armpits and lifted her away. The girl burrowed her cheek into the newcomer's shoulder, unsurprised at the rough crimson scales that fanned out from smooth human skin. Lifting her eyes, Kya gazed into compassionate eyes the color of garnets.

"Bring her soul back to me, Mother," Kya pleaded, her youthful voice shrill.

Deep red eyes gazed back, sadly. "Forgive me my child. I cannot."

"But you are the Divine Mother, you can do anything," Kya whispered.

"Oh my child," She crooned sadly, "If only that were true." A hand, laced with crimson scales rose to push several tendrils of hair away from Kya's face. Tears trailing down her face, Kya looked down upon her mother's body, only to find her mother's blue eyes open and searching. With a cry of joy, Kya pulled herself out of her protector's arms, and into the waiting hands of her mother. Her joyful cry was strangled into a squeak of fear, as her mother's hands grasped her throat and squeezed.

"Betrayer," her mother spit at her, and the little girl could only scream, again and again.

Kya jerked awake with start, her body trembling, a fine sheen of sweat covering her, making her feel unclean. It had happened again, the dream. A nightmare within a memory that haunted her since chosing to become a priestess of the Dragoness, then First Chamberlain to Her. Lykia'la refused to speak of it after Kya had first informed her of the dream when she was a girl of ten years. Lykia'la had only dismissed it with a sharp word, then a hum of a lullaby meant to sooth her. Nearly ten years had past since the death of Aidria Da'Casca, High Priestess and Lady Chamberlain to the Dragon Mother. No one spoke of Aidria, at least not within Lykia'la's hearing. It didn't help that her daughter had chosen the same path as her mother, and many feared the same betrayal from Kya, as from her mother.

Kya sat up, pressing her back against the tree that had sheltered her, sending thanks to the tree spirit, and to Mother Earth. She felt a gentle buzzing in her mind, as the tree spirit accepted her thanks. She stood from the tree, and peered down the steep cliff not six feet away from her and breathed deeply. She could smell the humans bellow, their fear, their stubborness. Word had been sent not more than a sennight ago. The humans went to war. This in itself was not an uncommon thing, but what plagued Lykia'la and Kya was that they went to war not against the Dragon Four and their knights, nor against the Roale. They warred now against their own. Humans fighting humans for the right to rule their race. The opposing army that had declared war was led by a Dragon Rider named Sorn Gol. It was rumored that he was a deserter of Delios' army, the Fire Dragon to the north and one of the Twelve Knights of Sun'Bislamat, the only humans in Delios' vast army. For days, merchants from Delki had been trampling in and out of the small villiage below with food and supplies, as well as word that Sorn Gol's army was heading south.

Nestled between a gentle river before wooded hills to the south and a growth of thick forrest to the north, the villiage of Kiona was the picture of serene. Small wooden houses were clustered together in a near circle, over a dozen to Kya's count. Such a small villiage would be an easy conquest to an army the likes that Sorn Gol was rumored to have at his disposal. It was only good fortune that they were located deep in the southern half of the Earth Dragon Psyki's territory. It would be weeks, possibly months before the army would reach them. Even so, many people from villiages nearby had already left, abandoning their homes and heading east, to the mountains within Saemene's territory. Kya did not believe that the Air Dragon would welcome these newcomers to her lands, as she barely tolerated those already in her territory. It was well known that the White Dragon detested humans even more than she detested the Roale.

Yet the people of Kiona refused to leave, and continued to gather their crops, catch their fish, and come together each morn and night for a sharing of words, or a dance. Kya could feel herself beginning to admire their courage. The sound of leaves crunching, and branches snapping cast Kya from her musings quickly. The steps were light, and after a moment no sound could be heard at all, but the wind. Only a Roale would be able to move in this enchanted place without his or her presence being immediately detected by Kya and the rest of her clan, and as such only one Roale cared and was polite enough to make his presence known to Kya before announcing himself properly.

Taking the initative, Kya murmured an amused, "Hello Pitho, what brings you?"

Turning she smiled at him, happy to see an answering smile in his eyes, even if his lips showed no sign of amusement or laughter. He had always been kind to her, even after all the whisperings began when Lykia'la returned her to the clan after Kya's mother died. She knew that the rumors surrounding her parentage tormented his family as much as they did her, and while his mother and sister chose to lash at her with words and actions, Pitho and his younger brother Adyki treated her with respect, allowing her to call them cousin, and they did the same on occasion.

"The Drago has returned from the gathering," Pitho began, his brow coming together slightly as Kya's face darkened at the mention of his father.

Kya turned back to face the village, crossing her arms across her chest. "Oh. I take it he wants me at the sup tonight?"

"He is your uncle Kya, and we are the only family you have left," he replied, his voice neutral. "Do not forget that like myself, you are also the grandchild of Draga Casca the greatest leader our people has ever known. You come from the blood of great tradition. We must show our people that we are united in our blood, regardless..." he stopped, unable to finish.

Kya took pity on her cousin, knowing that speaking of her stigma had always made him uncomfortable. "You are right cousin. I am sorry, I forgot for a second my place."

Pitho placed a hand on her shoulder, and followed her gaze down to the village. "I know it is hard, to have a responsiblity to The Great Mother, as well to the clans, but it is the fate of our family."

Kya nodded, comforted slightly by her cousin's hand. She felt him squeeze her shoulder slightly, then tensed at his next words. "She wants you to join her in the temple immediately."

"Is she still in one of her moods?" Kya asked wryily, ignoring Pitho's stiffening at her less than reverant tone toward Lykia'la. You would think by now he would be used to it, Kya being the only Roale allowed to speak The Great Mother's true name, even if it were only in her presence.

"She is, as always, concerned in her thoughts for her children," Pitho responded loyally, making Kya smile.

"Then I return to her presence, as her Lord Advisor bids me to," Kya said, holding back a grin at Pitho's miniscule wince. Since his appointment to the Dragon Mother's High Council of Advisors, he had been quite touchy at his new title. The uproar that She had caused appointing a boy more than half of several of the council members' age had rocked the whole of the clans. Lykia'la seemed to enjoy knocking the Roale off their feet lately. Her unpredictability was causing vast insecurity in Kya's people, and even Kya didn't understand what was troubling Her.

Pitho coughed softly, and patted Kya's shoulder. "She is waiting Kya. You know better than I Her temper as of late. Don't keep her waiting much longer."

Kya laughed softly, and turned away from the cliff overlooking the village. With a final caress of thanks upon the rough bark of the tree she had rest upon not fifteen minutes before, she hurried toward the ancestral cave housing the Mother of All.