The High and Far Off Times

by Dragon Dreaming

How The Magic Was Taught Love

This is a story of the High and Far Off Times, Best Beloved, when the world was Wild and Free. In those days, when the creatures of the fur and of the feather and of the scale first knew Words, the land was shattered, the sea was scattered, and the sky railed and raged. There was not day or night, for the sun and the moon and the stars fought for the sky, twisting and whirling around each and each the other, and light and dark were both and one the same.

At that time, we had not our cities or our farms, Best Beloved, nor our states and nations. We were all one people, for all our differences, for we had all served those who came before us, and we had all received their gift. We banded together, we creatures of the fur and of the feather of the scale, and struggled against the world.

Our struggle was a harsh one. The land and sea and sky alike were wild, because the Magic of the world was also wild, and would not heel, and though our will was mighty and our strength was great, we could not prevail. It was in the midst of this that ten of our number came together, to see what might be done.

Two came from the dragons, and they were the largest, the oldest, and the wisest of their number; Great Lamareth of emerald scale and crimson flame, and Grand Ailurok, of ebon claw and razor wing. Their struggle was with the Wild Things, those who had fled when the Eld had sung, and sought to prey on all the rest.

Two came from the gryphons, and they were the swiftest and the fiercest of their number; Giuliana of the golden eye, and Gareth of the silver wing. Their struggle was with the Wild Wind, that sought to cast all creatures of the feather from the sky, and dash on the shattered ground.

And from the Hoofed, there came six, two each of the winged, the horned, and those of the Earth. From the winged came Pegasus, he of the pure white coat and mane, and Celest, she of the storm grey coat and night black mane, who struggled with the raging sky, and fought against the storms, that sought to break all who flew and all who walked; they fought beside the gryphons, and strong was their bond and great their love for each and each the other.

From those of the Earth came Stallion, he of the crimson coat and steel mane, and Mare, she of the azure coat and golden mane, who struggled with the land, and fought to tame the Wild Plants, and ensure that all could eat. They shared a bond with all who walked the land, and great was their love for all creatures, be they of fur or of feather or of scale, Hoofed or Pawed or Clawed, and for the dragons, who guarded them as they worked.

And finally, from the horned came Unicorn, he of the golden coat and chestnut mane, and Equinia, she of the creamy coat and flaming mane, who struggled with the Magic itself, and fought to right the heavens, and the sun and moon and stars. To them, all paid respect, for theirs was the greatest and most perilous of struggles, and they had none to share it with.

“How long has it been,” asked Stallion, whose heart was weary of the struggle, “since first we knew to think, and speak, and struggle?”

“I know only that it has been long,” said Lamareth, whose heart was steady as the stone, “for twice have I shed my skin, and twice have I fired my clutch; but there is not day nor night to mark the time.”

“It has been long,” said Giuliana, whose heart was still afire, “for thrice have we of the gryphons seen the newborns come and thrice have we of the gryphons seen the elders sleep; but there is not day nor night to mark the time.”

“It has been long,” said Pegasus, whose heart was troubled, but steadfast, “and hard has been our struggle, with little enough to show for it. We survive, but do not live. Something must be changed.”

“The Magic is capricious,” said Unicorn, and all eyes went to him. “It hears us, but ignores us at its whim, or twists our pleas to mischievous means.”

“It hears us,” said Equinia, “but it has no heart nor soul, and cares not for us or any creature.”

“Yet it heard the Eld,” said Ailurok, who was oldest of them all, and had been old when Eld had died, and whose heart was calm. “It heard their song, their wish, and granted it.”

“The Eld were once its masters,” spoke the horned, whose hearts were cold, and nearly broken, “and it knew them once. It knows us as creatures it has wrought, as things with which to toy, and loves us not, and respects us not. And while the Magic rages, the land will sunder again and again, and the sky will rage alike, and the sea will have no home, and the sun and moon and stars will fight.”

“Then it is hopeless,” said Gareth, whose heart was bitter from the fight, “and never shall we do more than struggle. What meaning is there in it, when nothing will come from it?”

“Lose not hope,” said Celest, whose heart, like Ailurok’s, was calm, and like Pegasus’, was steadfast. “Our struggle has not been in vain, for we were born, and lived, and we have our children, who yet live, and will live, because we struggle.”

“I tire, sister,” said Stallion, and hung his great head. “I fight, and my brothers fight, and my sons fight, and I feel the pain of the land, yet it rejects us, and sends us away. And again, and again, and again, we give of ourselves and heal a portion, and then it is sundered before our very eyes. You say to not lose hope, but how do I keep it, when my sons perish and my daughters waste away? There must be a change.”

“The only change that will have meaning is if the Magic changes its heart,” said Unicorn.

“And we know that it will not,” said Equinia.

You must understand, Best Beloved, how perilous their struggle was, lest you think ill of the horned. For the dragons, the gryphons, the winged, and those of the Earth, the threat was to their form and to their hides, and the danger was a thing that could be seen, and wrestled. For the horned, it was not so. The peril of their task was with their souls, and their hearts, and their minds. The Magic that had so twisted the world was of a deeper sort than what we use today, Beloved, and needed a deeper reaching, of a sort that laid the heart and mind and soul bare.

The horned had struggled with the Magic since first they spoke, and with each baring of their selves, with each plea made, the Magic twisted them, and with each twist, they became less like creatures and more like the Magic itself. It is a wonder, indeed, that they were still so warm when the ten came to meet.

It was then that Mare, who was a quiet, gentle soul, decided to speak, and she said, “Could we not calm the Magic, as we do the beasts who do not speak?”

The horned, and the winged, and the gryphons looked at her, and wondered what she meant. “The beasts that do not speak are wild,” said Pegasus, shaking his head and mane. “They are not calm, and cannot be calm.”

“They seek only to harm and rend,” said Giuliana, “and any who fall to them are dead. Is this not true?” This she asked of the dragons, and they looked to each other, and deliberated before answering, speaking in their ancient ways that need no Words.

“It is and is not,” said Lamareth, when they had finished their deliberation. “There are those who will not listen, but these are the fanged and the clawed and the great in size, who have learned to live by the taking of life. The small creatures, the tiny birds and the things that scurry beneath the feet, or flee at your approach, they can be calmed.”

“We have seen it,” said Ailurok, who nodded to Mare. “Those of the Earth, and others of the Hoofed, are best able to do it, through ways unknown to us.”

“Truly?” asked Pegasus, who was incredulous at this news. “Stallion, have you known of this?”

Stallion raised his head, and nodded once. “It was the children who first found the tricks, and they taught us. It is a small thing, a way to gladden the heart and make the work a little lighter. But I do not know how they might help.”

“Well,” said Equinia, “tell us how it is done, perhaps there will be something that might work.”

So Mare told them of how the wild things were curious, and would approach if you lay very, very still. She told them of how, if you fed them even a little, and did so often, they might let you touch them. And she told them of how, if you showed them love, and kindness, they would show the same to you. These things are still true today, Best Beloved; if you do not believe me, then try for yourself. The creatures will flee before the brash and the loud, and scatter before the cruel, but for the quiet and kind, they are wondrous friends.

It was the last of these tricks that caught the minds of the horned, and caused them to look at each other, and consider how they had approached. “Always,” said Unicorn, his voice a thoughtful tone, “we have come in supplication or demand … and never simply as a friend.”

“I would come with you, sister,” said Equinia to Mare, “and see how this is done, and try for myself, that I might learn the ways in full. And you, brother,” she said to Unicorn, “should go with the others, each in turn, to see how their struggles are fought.”

“To what end, sister?”

“We none of us knew of this calming of creatures. What else have we missed, by keeping ourselves to our struggles and our struggles to ourselves? Go, brother.”

So the ten went on their ways; Equinia with Mare, the winged with the gryphons, and Unicorn with Stallion, and the dragons with them. And it was long before Unicorn and Equinia joined each other once again, just the two of them, beneath the boughs of a mighty oaken tree. “Have you learned how the calming is done?” asked Unicorn, and Equinia nodded her assent.

“It is as Mare said, though it takes much patience. But to give love brings love. See?” She lowered her head, and Unicorn near yelled in shock; there, sleeping in her fiery mane, lay a sparrow, its beak tucked beneath its wing. “And you, dear brother. What have you learned?”

“Our brothers of the Earth, and of the winged, are stronger and more clever than I knew,” said Unicorn, turning to the tree beside them. “Perhaps even more than they know. Did you know, dear sister, that to heal a shattered land, you must shatter it again, and again, and again, until it no longer has a true form? Only then can you shape it once again, and make it whole. And did you know, dear sister, that there is poison in the land that must be culled from the healthy soil, or plants and creatures alike will sicken and die? And that earth, tempered in the fires of the dragons, can be made hard and unyielding, useless for growth, but immune to poison and impossible to sunder?

“This tree that we stand under is their greatest triumph,” he said, and leaned against its bark. “And we did not know that they had found it, and cleaned it of the poison, and locked the poison away within dragon tempered earth. Nor did we know that they do so again, and again, because with each pass of the Magic here, the poison returns. Sister … could the Magic itself be poisoned?”

“I have sometimes wondered,” she said, and leaned against him, “when after we speak with it, and I feel myself grow cold. What of our brethren in the sky?”

“I saw you watching, too. What did you learn of their struggle?”

“They fight what has no stable form,” she said. “They give shape to storms, and with the gryphons, they direct them with the wild wind, and direct the rage of sky and wind and storm, that each expends itself where none are living. Sometimes, they push one into the other, and let the sky rage against itself. And never do they take the storm from the front, or try to break it, but always they deflect it, redirect it.”

“Such is what I saw as well. Sister … I may see a way.”

“Indeed, brother. I think I see as well.”

“It will take time.”

“All things do.”

“We will need all the horned behind us.”

“They will help. It is their struggle as well as ours.”

“We will likely need the help of all the others, as well, furred and feathered and scaled alike.”

“They desire a change. We offer one. They will help.”

“Let us go, then.”

They went to the horned, then, and told them of what they had seen and learned, and what they wished to do. But the horned were unsure, for remember, Best Beloved, that each of them had touched the Magic, and each of them had laid bare their hearts and minds and souls, and been twisted. Of the horned, Unicorn and Equinia were the strongest, and the least changed, and as he spoke with them, Unicorn understood how much the horned had changed, and how great their peril truly was.

With words and will and strength, he won them over, and they stood with him; all save one. This one was the oldest of them, and his heart was the coldest, and had long since lost all hope. Equinia went to him, and pleaded with him, but he would not be moved, and condemned them all as fools, and took his leave. Great was the sorrow of the horned, for he had been mentor to most all who were there.

They gathered, nonetheless, and some of the horned joined Unicorn and Equinia, and formed a ring, while others formed another ring around the first, and set to watch. Unicorn raised his head, and laid himself bare, as did Equinia, and those who were in the first ring, while the others stood guard. And they all waited.

Unicorn was the first to feel its touch, and feel its confusion; for this time, they asked nothing, but simply waited. Equinia, then, felt its touch, and its confusion, and she, too, waited. The Magic swirled about them, and looked over all that were gathered, and reached for them; but found that none were asking; all were simply waiting.

Equinia spoke to it, then, and though she used no words, we know of the question she asked. “Do you have a desire?” she asked it, and they both could feel its surprise. And when it came clear that that was all she wished, they heard an answer.

“We would give you this,” said Unicorn, and he, too, used no words. “But we know not how.” The Magic was puzzled, and surprised to find that, for all its wild power and all its freedom, it had no answer it could give.

“We are bare before you,” said Equinia, “and you know us. If you allow us, we could know you, and find out how to give you what you wish.” The Magic thought on this, and agreed, and for the first time, it laid itself before the horned, and they knew it as they never had known it before.

“It is poisoned, sister,” whispered Unicorn, and she nodded. They had no name for the poison, Best Beloved, for Words were still new to them, as were names. But we have named it. We call it hate, and envy, and greed, and selfishness, and cruelty; all the things which drive us apart and set us against our kin. This was what the Magic had learned when the Eld offered it to War.

“Do you see a way to cure it?” she asked. “Or a way to grant its desire?”

“Yes. And yes. We will need the help of all the creatures,” he said, “and especially of the eight who met with us.”

So Equinia went to the others, to gain their aid, while Unicorn prepared the horned for what would come. She went first to Mare, who took her to Stallion, who had fallen into despair, and would not move. But between the two of them, with words that bit and pushed, they convinced him to lift his weary heart to the task a final time. And with them, came all those of the Earth, and their cousins, of the striped hide, and those who are of the Hoofed but do not share our shape.

Next, she went to Celest, who was with Guiliana, and they, like Mare, agreed to give their aid. Celest went to Pegasus, whose heart remained steadfast, and he was quick to give his aid. But when they went to the gryphons, they found their friends locked in combat, fighting with talons and beaks and screeches and roars. For Gareth had a bitter heart, and had lost hope, and he had answered Giuliana’s hope with scorn. The winds raged about the battling pair, and all that Pegasus could do was to keep the storms at bay, and all that Celest could do was to keep the wind contained.

Equinia knew naught of this, for she had gone to the dragons, to Lamareth and Ailurok together, who had known that she would come. They listened as she spoke, and asked their aid, and when she had finished, they turned to the land surrounding them, and roared a question in their ancient tongue. The reply was deafening; all the dragons had gathered, and heard, and roared their support. And Equinia smiled, and thanked them, and went to gather the horned.

All came together, then, dragon and gryphon and the Hoofed. When all were gathered, Best Beloved, they were shocked to see their numbers. They were not so many as we are now, but they were more than they had been, and in each weary heart there kindled a small spark of hope.

Unicorn and Equinia greeted their friends, but were puzzled, for Gareth was not with them, and they saw the marks of battle upon Giuliana. And when they asked after him, Giuliana would only say that he had left, and that another, named Gabriel, would take his place. And though Celest and Pegasus knew what had occurred, neither would they speak of it, out of respect for Giuliana.

When all was ready, and each of the ten had taken their place around the tree, Unicorn and Equinia raised their horns, and laid themselves bare, as they had so often before. All present watched in awe, for none save the horned had ever witnessed such a thing before. Remember, Beloved, that this was a deeper casting than that which we do now. In current times, when the Hoofed do magic, the horn glows, and there is light, and it is done. Our striped cousins, the Zebra, have their own magic as well, that of potion and powder, and in some ways it is closer to the deeper casting, but still it is not the same.

The deeper casting had no light, nor flash, nor great shuddering of power – but instead, the horned would fade, in their form, if you looked, you could see the very shape and color of magic itself. Those who were not horned were allowed to look, for it was necessary, but then the horned surrounded Unicorn, and Equinia, and erected walls of dragon tempered earth, to close them off. And then they went amongst winged, and the gryphons, and the dragons, and those of the Earth, and with soft and gentle words they guided them from the edges of madness.

This is why none save the horned had witnessed it, for when they first made the casting, and knew the peril, they resolved that they would protect the rest from it. In this day as well, Beloved, when the world is tamed, it is perilous even for the mage to look too deeply at the face of magic. It is a thing both beautiful and terrible, and can bring ruin and madness to the unprepared.

Within the walls, Unicorn and Equinia lay still, bared, and waited, and before long, they felt the Magic approach. Outside the walls, the horned raised their heads, and stomped their hooves, and with them all the rest came alert, and watched the tree, and felt the shifting of the world. The magic touched them first, then, curious, spread its touch to all present, and each creature felt a shiver in their back and a twitching in their ears, but none were changed, for none were open.

When the Magic ceased its probing, and turned back to Unicorn, and to Equinia, they spoke to it, and said, “We can give you what you wish, if you lay yourself open once more.” And the Magic did so. It was then, Best Beloved, that the horned did something both wondrous and horrible; wondrous, that they made good their promise and changed the fates of all; horrible, that they betrayed a trust, so new and fragile, to do so.

At the moment the Magic bared itself, they cried out a signal, and all the horned around them lifted their horns and lent their will to the two within the walls. They took this will, and tied to their own, and Unicorn, who was the more aggressive, bent it against the Magic, and trapped it, so it could neither flee nor fight, and held it there.

Equinia, who had gone to all the creatures, reached for them, the dragons and the gryphons, and her brethren of the winged and of the Earth, and asked for what they had to give. From Stallion and Mare, she took the solid steadiness of Earth; from Celest and Pegasus, the unbridled power of a storm; from the gryphons, a portion of their ferocious spirit; and from the dragons, a portion of their eternal flame. All these, she took, and made her own, and joined her brother Unicorn.

Together, they faced the helpless Magic, and shattered it; and the Magic, now in pieces, raged, and struck at them. But they weathered its first strike, and came through unchanged, bolstered by the dragons’ flame and by the steadfast Earth. And when next it struck, they caught the strike, and pushed to the side, with the power of the storm and the ferocity of the gryphon, and turned it on itself. They cut away the poison, and forced it all together, and locked it in a safe place. Then, they turned to the raging pieces, and caught them, and bound them, and with the warmth that was Mare, and the Hope that was Celest, they soothed the broken Magic, and showed it what they planned.

Beyond the walls, all waited, cowering and frightened. All that they knew, even the horned, was that the casting was not yet done. They had watched, in horror, as the world around them raged, the land rising to meet the hanging sea, and the sky howling. But as they prepared to fight, they found that beneath the boughs of the tree, all was calm, and raging world could not approach.

They had watched, again, as Stallion and Mare had fallen, and lay upon the ground, unmoving, and as Pegasus and Celest did the same. They had watched as Giuliana and Gabriel staggered, and as Lamareth and Ailurok groaned, and leaned against each other, and wondered at the cause, but could do nothing. So they waited, Best Beloved, and hoped.

It was the dragons who signaled the change, as Lamareth ducked her head, and Ailurok lifted his voice in wordless song. And then each gathered there felt a change within them, and a warmth that they had not known before, and they looked to the center, as the walls fell away. There, limned in a wondrous, ever shifting light, stood Unicorn and Equinia. They stepped forward, as the other dragons lifted their voices to join the song of Ailurok, and opened their mouths to speak.

“At last,” they said, as one. “Voiced. I … we … speak. I … we … are whole.” The gathered wondered, and worried, for they did not comprehend, and some among moved to flee, while others moved to fight. “Peace!” said the voice, and all fell still; the sky ceased its howling, the land settled, and the sea began to drain away. “Peace.” The creatures halted, where they were, and faced the pair, who stepped to the fallen forms of Stallion, Mare, Celest, and Pegasus, nuzzled each of them. “A wish granted,” they said, “and great the sacrifice, to grant it, and heal, and teach us love.” Then, the light faded, and Unicorn and Equinia both fell to the ground, and there was silence.

Eventually, one each from those of the Earth, and the winged, and the horned approached them, and confirmed the fears of all; those six lay dead. And then all knew the meaning of the dragons’ song, and one by one, they lifted up their voices, and sang their sorrow.

And then, Beloved? It was long before any thought to ask what happened, but when they did, it was the gryphons who answered. The horned had come to them, and told them that they planned to heal the Magic, and give it a voice; that they planned to do so by shattering the Magic, and reforming it anew, and to spread it all creatures. The Magic speaks with every voice, Best Beloved, and knows us as it never did before; and because we know love, it knows love.

To make so great a change, Beloved, required that all be willing to give everything, and that is why the ten were there, to make that sacrifice. The dragons and the gryphons lived, because they are not Hoofed, beloved, and so Equinia did not know them as she knew the others, and did not see all that was offered, and took only a portion; but it is well they lived, for had they not, we would not have had their wisdom in the days that came.

And how did the world change, thereafter? With magic within all, Beloved, the struggle was not so heavy, and what work was done would stay done, and could be left to tend itself without fear of change. And though it was not easy, and many were the times when it was thought that all was lost, we tamed the wild world, Beloved, and made it as it is today.

We remember the six who laid themselves down for us still, Beloved, and always will, even if this story is forgotten, for we have kept their names with us. The winged took the name of Pegasus, and made it their own, and the horned took the name of Unicorn, and made it their own; for those two were the guardians of their breeds. Stallion and Mare, who were the father and mother of so many, lent their names to all of us; we are stallions, or mares, no matter what our breed. For Celest, who gave all hope in even the darkest times, we named the sky, in the old tongue. And when a Princess came, she took up the name, and she is Celestia.

Equinia, perhaps, we honor most of all, for she gathered all together and was the link between us all. We Hoofed Ones honored her by taking her name for all the breeds; be you Unicorn, or Pegasus, or Earth pony, you are equine; and that, I think, is fitting.

Now sleep, Best Beloved. I will wake you in the morning, and perhaps I will share another story.

Comments

[Hoof of Approval]

GAAAAAAAH

This. This is awesome. So much win, so much epic, so much...

You win these:

[Axan Zenith]

And so the world shapes around the graves of the few....

I seriously love these stories. I am eagerly awaiting the next telling.