Falcor - Malada's Garden

Malada’s Garden

In the serene perfection of Malada's garden, the fear and loss of the last few terrifying minutes were somehow pushed to the back of Falcor's numbed mind, not forgotten but suddenly not important against the beauty of his surroundings. The Goddess herself was there to greet him, as an old friend and ally.

"My Lord of Dragons," she smiled warmly "your return has long been heralded but the timing of this moment was hidden even from my sight. Now finally we can begin that which we all planned so many years ago."

Time in Malada's garden passed almost like a dream for Falcor and now, looking back on the days, weeks or months that he spent in her company, only fragments of memory have any clarity. The rest resisted any attempt to focus on them, slipping through his fingers like dust dancing in the sunlit air. She tended his wounds, healing body and soul with soothing magics. She taught him the ways of the gods themselves, to recognise and manipulate the flow of the lifeforce of the world, to create works of wonder, that lesser men would dismiss simply as 'magic'. Over many conversations, they discussed the wonder of soul stones, those intricately cut gems that only the Elvradhil ever mastered the art of crafting. Stones so perfect that each can capture some essence of the power of creation itself, summoning fire, shaping the earth, commanding the winds, limited only by the imagination and skill of the craftsman.

His very last memories of his time in the garden, though, were crystal clear.

"Come my Lord of Dragons." Malada entreated, leading Falcor to a corner of the vast garden that he had yet to visit or had no memory of. There in a clearing amongst mighty oaks, larger than any tree Falcor had ever seen or heard of, a single stone obelisk protruded from the ground, his equal in height.

"My dear daughter Karmana is always closest to my heart here, more than any other part of my beautiful garden. Place your hand on the stone and tell me what you feel." She indicated to Falcor the point he should touch and without hesitation he placed his right hand flat to the stone.

"So much love!" Falcor sank to his knees, overwhelmed by the emotions flooding through him as he felt loved and nurtured in a way unlike any he had ever experienced.

"Mother?" He asked, not knowing why that was the question that came to mind.

In response, his thoughts were flooded with a vision of a man, no, not a man but something much shorter yet still clearly fully grown.

"Help him my guardian." The intensity of the voice in his head stunned Falcor and his hand slipped from the stone as he slumped to the ground, momentarily overcome. Struggling back to his knees, he reached out, tentatively placing his hand back in the same place, again feeling the intense waves of love but now braced for the power of the voice in the stone.

"Help your brother my guardian, as you were created to do." The voice was somehow softer although still almost more than Falcor could bear, his eyes involuntarily screwed tightly shut against the intense pain throbbing in the very centre of his head. "Avenge his people. Restore peace to my heart. My Forge has lain dormant for too long but now is the time for the fires of creation to burn once more. Drive out all evil from your birthplace and only then, when the Forge is relit can you truly be reborn and your sister-wives be cleansed of the evil that pollutes their hearts and turns them against me."

Daring to open his eyes, his hand still pressed firm against the obelisk, Falcor realised that he was no longer in Karmana's garden, although the obelisk remained. He found himself staring out across a plateau, the highest point as far as he could see. In place of the simple robes he had worn throughout his time in the garden was a suit of tightly fitting chain mail with a simple pressed steel breast plate. A star formed from two overlapping triangles was embossed in the armour, directly over his heart with a recessed mounting for gemstones at the tip of each point of the star. The mountings were empty, save the uppermost, in which a stunning sapphire glistened in the midday sun. He felt the weight of a full backpack on his shoulders and the familiar drag of the sword on his belt. As the magic of the garden faded, the fog lifted from his mind and the pain and horror of the attack on Castle Maladan crashed back into focus.