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Original Fiction
The Ballad of a Semi-Benevolent Dragon
Thread starter SecretTwelve Start date Jan 24, 2024 Tags original fantasy dragon
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The story of a semi-benevolent dragon who occasionally does the right thing for the wrong reasons. Protecting villagers from marauding soldiers? Of course. They can't give tribute if they're dead or their crops are on fire! Destroying a tyrannical kingdom? Absolutely. They have treasure... that could be his treasure.
This will be crossposted on Royal Road.
Last edited: Feb 4, 2024
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Chapter 1: The Dragon Awakens
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Jan 24, 2024
Chapter 2: Enter The Dragon
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Jan 25, 2024
Chapter 52: The Dragons Build A Lair
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Apr 11, 2024
Chapter 53: The Dragons Soar
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Apr 14, 2024
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Threadmarks Chapter 1: The Dragon Awakens
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SecretTwelve
Jan 24, 2024
#1
Chapter 1: The Dragon Awakens
For the first time in decades, something stirred within the lake of lava. Slowly, but with ever growing speed, waves rippled across its surface. The low hum of magic in the air rose to a fever pitch, and the currents of power that ran through the land twisted and coiled. Something huge emerged from the lava. Molten rock sluiced off a titanic form covered in a kaleidoscopic pattern of red and blue scales. Wings that could cast an entire city into shadow spread wide, and golden eyes gazed at the treasure-strewn shores of the lake.
Great piles of silver, platinum, and gold dotted the shores, protected from the searing heat by ancient magic. Chest after chest after chest of jewels, rare potions, and mystical fabrics were scattered haphazardly amongst the fumaroles. Arcane devices of great and terrible power littered the area, drawing off the volcano's potent magic to remain functional.
Doomwing, Scourge of the Fifth Age and Premier Terror of the West, swam to the shore and heaved his mile-long body out of the lake. For a moment, he was sorely tempted to roll around in his hoard, but he was no longer a young dragon. He was ancient beyond mortal reckoning and far too large to indulge himself in the antics of a hatchling. It would be utterly embarrassing if he crushed one of his prized possessions under his bulk. Instead, he contented himself by lowering his head and burying it in a mountain of precious metals.
Ah. There was nothing quite like the smell and feel of treasure. He could still remember his youth. As a hatchling, he'd been happy to add even a single coin to his hoard. Now, it would take a king's ransom to pique his attention. Pulling his head out from under the pile of treasure, he reached out with his senses. He had woven his magic into every single piece of his hoard. If so much as a single coin was missing, he would know. And he would not be pleased. But nothing was missing. Everything was where it should be.
But why had he woken up? Like any self-respecting dragon of his age, he spent most of his time sleeping, either with his hoard or within the lake of lava. He only woke once a century to collect tribute from those who lived in his territory. Yet his instincts told him that a century had not passed. He had woken up early. Was another apocalypse on the way? He doubted it. His senses would already have noticed if another Catastrophe had arisen. Perhaps it was indigestion. He had eaten a polar kraken before going to sleep, and they never had gone down quite as well as the tropical variety.
Never mind. All that mattered was that he was awake. Now, he could either go back to sleep, or he could take a quick flight to stretch his wings. They were feeling a little stiff. But first he'd check to see just how long he'd been asleep. For all he knew, he might only have awakened a few days early.
He reached out with his magic again and called one of his favourite artefacts to him. It was the Clock of Ages. He had taken it from the Catastrophe of the Fourth Age. At the time, he'd only taken it because the Catastrophe had been a troublesome asshole, so he'd been happy to steal anything that jerk liked on general principle. However, the clock had soon revealed itself to be far more than a simple time piece. It kept track of all the various cycles that governed the world, both mystical and mundane.
Did he want to know if the moon was full because he was planning to hunt down and eat a bunch of werewolves? The clock could tell him.
What if he wanted to know when the tides would be low because he was feeling peckish for some merfolk to go with his kraken? The clock had him covered.
And what if he fell asleep for decades on end and wanted to know what year it was when he woke up? Not a problem. The clock could tell him exactly what year it was.
The clock appeared in front of him and he used his magic again to relay his commands to the clock. Despite being the size of a house, it was still far too delicate for him to handle with his bare claws. A moment later, the clock provided the answer. It had been seventy-five years since he had last awakened.
Hmmm... so he'd awakened twenty-five years early? Not too bad. It was tempting to go back to sleep, but... no. He really did want to stretch his wings, and it might be nice to remind all of the people who lived in his territory that their tribute would be due soon. There was nothing quite like a mile-long dragon appearing overhead to remind people of where their priorities should be.
Sending the clock back to its place in his hoard, Doomwing took a few steps back and then beat his wings. Only the magic on his hoard kept it from being blown away, and waves of lava rolled across the lake behind him. Once, twice, and then a third time he beat his wings before leaping into the air and taking wing for the first time in seventy-five years.
Below him was the massive volcano he called his home. It was the largest and tallest peak in the world, so high that he never had to worry about thieves since they would just suffocate and so wide that the lake he liked to sleep in only occupied part of the summit. Despite its height, its slopes were devoid of snow. Instead, fumaroles, burning chasms, and all manner of fiery features marked the side of the volcano. The land at its base was little better, and a vast swathe of smouldering earth stretched out for dozens of miles.
Soaring over the land at speeds that would have put a wyvern or drake to shame, Doomwing turned south. The last time he had awakened, there had been scores of farming settlements there. They had made a living by exporting food and livestock, and he had received a generous portion of their profits as tribute. A younger dragon might simply have eaten the lot of them, but Doomwing had not accumulated his hoard by being rash. It was better to let those settlements prosper. That way they made more money, which in turn meant he received more tribute. Burning everything and eating everybody might feel good for a day or two, but then what would he have? Scorched fields and empty villages... neither of which would add any value to his hoard.
As he continued south, his keen senses picked up the sweet smells of fire and ruin leavened with cries of lamentation and suffering from all those who had defied him... wait. He'd only just woken up. Nobody had defied him yet. That meant somebody else was setting things on fire and tormenting people, which meant his tribute was in danger! He picked up the pace and then landed with a tremendous crash beside the first settlement he reached.
His eyes narrowed. The fields were ablaze, as were many of the houses. Some people were running around and screaming whilst some tried to put out the flames. Others lay slumped in the ash-strewn dirt and wept, some over their lost livelihood and others over the bodies of their loved ones. The sight filled Doomwing with rage. Who dared? This village was in his territory. Its field, its houses, its crops, its people... all were part of his hoard. To harm any of them was to steal from him, and no self-respecting dragon would allow anyone to steal from them.
His magic rippled out. The fires went out, the collapsing houses were steadied, and the wounded were healed. The dead, however, remained very much dead. There were lines he had learned not to cross, and that was one of them. Ignoring it had birthed the Catastrophe of the Fourth Age, and the last thing he needed was to be up to his neck in zombies again. Good grief. That had taken forever to deal with. To make matters worse, zombies tasted terrible, so he hadn't even been able to eat any of his enemies.
"Mighty dragon!" an old human stumbled forward and dropped to his knees before him. "You saved us!"
"Who did this?" Doomwing asked. "Who dared to burn your crops and harm your people? Who dared to take my tribute? Who dared to steal from me?"
The old man looked up at him with a combination of awe and terror. "Soldiers, mighty dragon! They asked for all we had. When we refused, they destroy everything."
"Soldiers?" Doomwing gave a low rumble. It was like thunder rolling through the skies. "Did they not know that all of this belongs to me?"
"We told them, mighty dragon, but they laughed in our faces. They knew that you only come for your tribute once a century. They must have thought that they could do as they pleased while you slept."
"I see."
Doomwing had not done much since the end of the Sixth Age some thousand years ago. The Catastrophe of the Age had been an absolute bitch to deal with, and his wounds had been quite serious. Even now, a millennium later, the scales on the right side of his chest were not quite the same as those on his left. Had his defensive magic been even an iota weaker or slower, he would dead. He had used the time since then to recover from his wounds and regather his power. He had not dallied when collecting his tribute. Instead, he had collected it as quickly as possible and then returned to the lake to sleep.
Clearly, the kingdoms surroundings his territory had forgotten who he was and what he was capable of.
"These soldiers, have they attacked other settlements?" Doomwing asked.
"Yes, mighty dragon. We were not the first to be attacked. The villages to our west were attacked first, and they rode east after attacking us."
"In that case, I will go east as well." Doomwing was about to flare his wings before he remembered that doing so would probably unleash a hurricane that would annihilate what was left of the village. Instead, he quickly cast a protective spell over the village before taking to the air again. "I will deal with the soldiers and then return to fix your village."
It wouldn't do if the villages here were unable to provide tribute.
Captain Jarod Evans was having a rather good night. There was nothing quite like a bit of pillaging to get his blood pumping. True, they'd been ordered not to kill too many of the farmers since the king was planning to annex this entire area in the future, but a little bit of killing was practically mandatory for this sort of thing. Yes, riding in, stabbing a few people, and then burning some stuff was the best way to make the right impression. They could obey, or they could die.
He wasn't scared of the dragon either. It was only supposed to wake up every hundred years or so, and that crap about it being a mile long? Impossible. The largest dragon he'd ever seen had only been five hundred feet long. It had been a tough, old bastard, but the kingdom's wizards and warriors had still been able to bring it down by using spells and weapons derived from the kingdom's collection of ancient tomes and armouries. There were few things in the Seventh Age that could withstand the wonders of the Sixth. Even if that dragon woke up, they'd have twenty-five years to prepare themselves. They just kill it if it dared to show its face.
Honestly, though, he'd been a bit surprised that the king had given them such free rein. Sure, he liked throwing his weight around, but it would have made more sense to force the farmers to hand over their crops instead of burning them. Oh well. The king was big on the whole 'fear my power' approach to ruling, so perhaps it was a way of ensuring the people here never even thought of rebelling once their lands were added to the kingdom's.
"How far are we from the next village?" he asked his second in command.
Taylor opened his mouth to reply and then fell silent.
"What?" Jarod barked. "Taylor?" And then he noticed that the other knight wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was looking up and behind him. It had also gone very dark all of a sudden. There was supposed to be a full moon out. Had clouds rolled in? Was rain coming? It would be a hassle trying to burn everything if it was raining.
"D... d..."
"What?" Jarod finally turned, and all the blood in his veins turned to ice. There were no clouds. There was no rain coming. But there was a dragon, and it was really damn big. It might even be a mile long.
"You thought you could steal from me?" The dragon's voice shook the earth and sky.
Jarod was vaguely aware of being flung off his horse as the animal screeched to a stop in sudden instinctive terror. The others were little better, and they stumbled to their feet as a second sun bloomed in the skies overhead.
No. Not a second sun.
That was fire kindling in the dragon's jaws.
Jarod swallowed thickly. "Oh fuck."
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SecretTwelve
Jan 24, 2024
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Threadmarks Chapter 2: Enter The Dragon
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SecretTwelve
Jan 25, 2024
#8
Chapter 2: Enter The Dragon
Jarod gathered his wits. "Defensive magic now!" he boomed. "As much as you can! All of it!"
To the credit of his troops, they managed to shake off their terror, and magic bloomed to life around him. Glowing circles of mystical energy formed in the air above them as spell after spell took shape and bent the world to their collective will.
Protect.
Shield.
Defend.
The words echoed through his soul, and hope stirred within him. They could do this. The dragon might be huge, but it was only a single creature. They were a hundred of the kingdom's finest. Not all of them were proper mages, but a decent number of them could wield magic of the third and fourth order. All of their efforts combined should be roughly equivalent to a fifth-order defensive spell, and a fifth-order defensive spell was strong enough to withstand a barrage from a siege mage.
This could work. Their defensive magic would keep them alive, and the dragon would be forced to close in because everyone knew that dragons could only deploy their breath attack for a limited time before they had to wait for it to recharge. The dragon was huge, but that meant it would be slow and clumsy. If he could just dodge when it lashed out, he could win because he carried one of the kingdom's treasure with him, a sword from the Sixth Age.
The sword had supposedly belonged to a noble from that bygone era, and the king had given it to him to help him better serve the kingdom's interests. It was imbued with magic that the kingdom's mages and smiths could not replicate, and it was capable of cutting through even enchanted steel with ease. Jarod had tested it against the scales of the dragon that the kingdom had killed. It had taken some effort, but the blade had still been able to pierce through them.
"Take heart!" Jarod boomed as he drew the sword and held it aloft. "Once the dragon exhausts itself trying to break through our defences, I will strike it down!"
His troops cheered, and Jarod reached for the magic woven into the sword and added it to the panoply of defensive spells above them. The blade shone with an eerie blue light, and the strength of the defensive spells more than tripled. With this, their defence might even qualify as a lower-level spell of the sixth order.
"Do you worst, dragon!" he cried. "For you face the kingdom's finest!"
Doomwing studied the pathetic mishmash of defensive spells below him and fought the urge to sigh. Really? They were going to try to fight off his fire breath with a bunch of third- and fourth-order spells? That was honestly just insulting. Sure, all of the spell together added up to something in the neighbourhood of the fifth-order, and that little stick their leader was waving around boosted them up to maybe the sixth-order, but that was it.
And it wasn't nearly enough.
A sixth-order spell was the sort of thing Doomwing's parents had used to wake him up back when he'd been a hatchling. He had always loved to sleep on top of his hoard, back when he'd been small enough to not crush it beneath his bulk. Rather than waste their time dragging him off it, they'd simply fired off a spell or two. It hadn't really hurt, but it had been annoying enough to wake him up. His mother had been particularly fond of reversing gravity, which would leave him scrambling to cast counter magic before his hoard floated away.
He missed her and his father. Damn those fools from the First Age. He and his kind had been dragged into their mess, and so few of them had managed to survive it. At least they'd done better than the First Gods. The dragons had been decimated, but not a single one of the First Gods had made it to the Second Age. Good riddance to most of them, but a few of them had been worthy of respect and friendship. Ah, Dion.. what a great drinking buddy he'd been, even if Doomwing's parents had never approved of him.
It would have been trivially easy to simply blow the soldiers away, but he wanted to know what the people of this age were capable of. Humans might seem weak and pitiful, but he'd met plenty of them over the years who'd been able to rise above their humble origins. Some had been his enemies. Some had been allies. And a rare few had been his friends. Part of him was glad they were all dead because if this was what humanity had been reduced to, they would have died all over again out of sheer embarrassment.
The inferno in his mouth dwindled until it was little more than a candle flame, but even that was enough to light up the night sky. The bolt of fire struck the array of defensive spells and cracked it the same way a sledgehammer would have cracked an egg. The subsequent detonation had enough force behind it to tear a mile-wide crater in the earth while instantly vaporising every scrap of flesh and mundane metal in its area of effect.
As the cloud of smoke cleared and the rain of molten rock ceased, only the leader of the soldiers remained alive. Unlike a hatchling, Doomwing could control his flame. Sparing a single person was easy enough for someone who had spent millennia honing their control. The fool looked around at the devastation and then back to the sword he held. It was a trinket, the sort of ceremonial toy one of his old friends would have given to a noble who had displeased him as a way of gently reminding them of their responsibility to not be an idiot. Apparently, however, the people of this age had forgotten so much that even the toys of the previous age were now worthy of respect.
Humans. So quick to forget. But perhaps he was being unreasonable. A human was lucky to live eighty years. A thousand years must be a barely comprehensible span of time to them. To him? He counted millennia the way humans counted years.
"That was all of your power, right, dragon?" The human waved his toy around. "You may have slain my troops, but I will avenge them! I will -"
Doomwing rolled his eyes and landed with a thump. The human barely kept his footing and then charged toward him, gathering what paltry energies he could in an attempt to make a heroic final stand. The tiniest sliver of Doomwing's magic shattered the blade and bound the human in place.
"The only reason you're still alive," Doomwing drawled. "Is because I want to know more about who you serve."
The man glared as best he could. Either he was very brave or very stupid. Probably both. "I will tell you nothing, dragon."
"You will tell me everything." Doomwing's eyes narrowed. He would need to concentrate for this. He was not as adept in mind-manipulating magic as some of his old friends. Oh, he could peer into the minds of others, even tear information from them if they resisted. But his was not a gentle touch. No. When he reached into the minds of others, particularly those as weak as this human, they had a tendency to die horribly.
This human would be no exception.
As Doomwing began to peer into the human's memories, blood began to pour from the human's eyes, nose, and mouth. Doomwing chuckled. Ah, Marcus would have found this amusing. The ancient vampire had always liked to poke fun at Doomwing's inability to peer into people's minds without melting their brains, especially since Marcus was far more adept at it. Bah. Marcus was a vampire. Of course, he was better at peering into people's minds. It was part and parcel of being a vampire, right there with the bloodsucking, the brooding, and the hedonistic lifestyle that involved wearing far too much black leather.
"Gah!" Jarod began to wail, and Doomwing cast a silencing spell over him. That sort of high-pitched screaming was annoying.
Doomwing focused on the information he was pulling from Jarod's mind. The man had apparently been a highly ranked captain in his kingdom's forces, and he had the trust and favour of his king. That same king wanted to expand his territory by taking land from his neighbours. The kingdom had managed to defeat a dragon a while ago, so the king had come to the conclusion that seizing some of Doomwing's land was a viable option.
Idiot.
The dragon they'd slain had been a young, vainglorious fool, the sort of reptile who focused only on expanding their hoard instead of honing their power, wisdom, and cunning. Doomwing had met - and killed - plenty of fools like that over the years. They had things backward. Having a hoard didn't make them powerful and worthy of respect. No. Becoming powerful and worthy of respect was the best way to get and keep a suitably impressive hoard.
He'd have to educate this king and his kingdom on what a real dragon was like, and he'd have to see if all the other dragons of this Age were so pathetic. If they were, he might have to stay awake a bit longer because clearly something had gone wrong if a dragon who was a mere five hundred feet long thought he was invincible.
Still, he couldn't help but be irritated by the king's name and the title he claimed.
Doomwing ceased delving into Jarod's mind as the man's mouth opened and closed. Impressive. Despite his brain leaking out of his skull, the man was trying to speak. He might have been a fool, but Doomwing could respect that sort of determination. He dispelled the silencing magic and allowed the man to speak his last words.
"You..." Jarod bared his teeth in a snarl. "You have no idea of the fate that awaits you, dragon. High King Elerion will slay you himself! He is destined to rule over this world! He will unite the kingdoms of men once more and -"
That little spark of irritation Doomwing felt turned into a bonfire.
"Be silent!" Doomwing boomed. "Your king is unworthy of that name and that title!" He snarled, and fire kindled in his jaws once more. Memories came to him unbidden of a human with eyes like adamant and a soul like the sun. "I knew the last High King, and I was there when Elerion the Valiant fell! His armour was rent in a hundred places, his blessed sword was broken, and he was crippled and blinded! Yet still he fought, crushing the foes he could reach with his bare hands and piling high the bodies of his enemies until they had to climb hills of their dead to reach him! It took the Catastrophe of the Sixth Age herself to slay him, and even then, he managed to wound her before he fell! Your king is nothing more than an up-jumped brigand, and I truly hope that his lineage has nothing to do with my old friend's, for the shame of it would haunt him even in the afterlife!"
Doomwing took a deep, calming breath and then sighed. His anger had gotten the better of him, and the force of his words had reduced Jarod to pulp.
"Never mind." Doomwing gave a low rumble. "I should seek out the other villages and make sure there are no more soldiers left. After that... yes. I'll have to help them get back on their feet. Then I can deal with that pretender king." His lips curled into a very wide, very toothy smile. "It's been a while since I've razed a kingdom. It should be fun, and maybe they'll have some decent loot." He paused. "I should contact Marcus. He should still be around unless that fool managed to get himself killed somehow. It'll be like old times."
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SecretTwelve
Jan 25, 2024
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Threadmarks Chapter 3: The Dragon Reaches Out
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SecretTwelve
Jan 26, 2024
#16
Chapter 3: The Dragon Reaches Out
The village headman prostrated himself on the ground. "Thank you, mighty dragon! Truly, we are blessed to have you as our lord and master!"
Normally, Doomwing would have been irritated at having to visit so many small villages. However, it had been a while since his ego had been so thoroughly stroked. Napping all the time and living in a volcano meant that he didn't really have many opportunities to be showered in praise. Oh, he'd been flattered before. He was a dragon. People almost always tried to flatter him in a bid to avoid getting eaten. But this? Honest, sincere praise from the very depths of a person's heart? This was far rarer and far more enjoyable.
Doomwing nodded regally and then took to the air once more. That was the last village that he needed to fix. As he soared through the sky, it occurred to him that the fields he'd seen so far looked quite different from the fields of the Sixth Age. If the villagers were anything like the soldiers, then they'd probably forgotten the superior ways of farming that had become widespread by the end of the Sixth Age. Doomwing didn't really care about farming, but he did care about his tribute. The more crops the villagers grew, the more money they would be able to get, and the larger his tribute would be.
But even if he didn't know a lot about farming, he did have books about it. They were part of his hoard, either gifted to him by his friends or taken as loot when he'd raided several of the world's greatest libraries over the millennia. Rather than worry about which books to take, he had used his magic to seize all of them. A lesser dragon might have been content with taking only the books concerning magic or forbidden lore, but Doomwing was no foolish hatchling. All knowledge was valuable, so taking all of the books was the best option.
And books could be bargained for other things. Many scholars, wizards, and kings had approached him with vast sums of wealth, just for a chance to read the books in his hoard. Elerion had been particularly fond of the books about farming. After all, he'd been a farmer's son before he'd become a king, and he'd always dreamed of retiring to a farm of his own once his kingdoms were secure and his children were ready to take over. The plan was to grow potatoes and cabbages and try to convince Doomwing to eat them. Of course, he'd never gotten that farm or grown those vegetables, and any desire Doomwing might have felt to read those books had died alongside his friend.
He could use his magic to copy those books and give them to the headmen of the villages. Wait... could the villagers even read? And if they could, did they even use the same script as before? Damn it. Well, he did have an artefact in his hoard that could impart knowledge. He'd have to test it on a few people to make sure it wouldn't melt their brains, but he could always grab some soldiers when he attacked the kingdom. They were going to die one way or another, so who cared if it was by his teeth or claws or by having their brains melted by an ancient artefact? At least, they'd be useful before they died.
Doomwing returned to his lair and took a moment to bask in the sheer opulence of his hoard. Marcus had once accused him of being the single greatest deflationary force in the world due to just how much of the world's wealth had ended up in his hoard, but that was rubbish. He wasn't the only truly ancient dragon out there, and the others were every bit as greedy as he was. Naturally, he was confident that his hoard was better than theirs, but if all of their hoards were added together, then maybe they might something approaching the greatness of his.
With his magic, Doomwing called the Apeiron Mirror to him. It was amongst the greatest of his treasures and one of the few that he'd made himself. The mirror embodied some of the most complex and powerful scrying and communication magic in existence. At his command, it could find almost anyone in the world and allow him to speak to them.
He carefully positioned the mirror so that whoever he spoke to would have a view of not only him but also his splendid hoard before activating it and reaching out to Marcus. The mirror's surface shimmered before a vast image appeared above it.
Doomwing's eyes narrowed. It was a battlefield. Dead bodies were strewn in the snow amidst vivid starbursts of red. Tattered banners and broken weapons littered the ground, and roaming bands of warriors stalked through the snow, hunting down survivors and looting the dead. Amidst it all stood Marcus, and the ancient vampire looked much as Doomwing remembered him. He was almost seven feet tall with broad shoulders and dark hair. His eyes were the red of freshly spilt blood, and the sword he held was a blade wrought of metal blacker than the dead of night and studded with scarlet runes.
But unlike the last time Doomwing had seen him, Marcus wasn't wearing any black, and he wasn't wearing leather either. Instead, his body was covered in furs taken from beasts common to the far north where winter never ended and summer was only a legend. Rather than being clean shaven, Marcus had a beard, and his hair was wild and unkempt and almost to his shoulders.
The battlefield fell still and silent as the mirror projected an image of Doomwing and his surroundings into the air above Marcus.
"You're playing barbarian again?" Doomwing laughed. "Is this a phase, or are you planning to make something of it?"
Marcus grinned and drove his sword through the back of a man who'd been trying to crawl away. "It's been a while since we spoke, old friend. Just about a thousand years."
"What's a thousand years to people like us?" Doomwing replied.
"Fair enough." Marcus barked an order, and the warriors resumed their activities although many of them kept a wary eye on the image of the dragon. "It's good to see you again. Have your wounds healed?"
"Not completely, but they no longer ache." Doomwing bared his teeth. "I woke up early. Some fool of a king decided to send soldiers to attack my territory."
"Are all of the soldiers dead, and is that king still alive?"
"Of course, they're dead. As for the king, I was wondering if you'd like to come along when I raze his kingdom. You're in the far north, but I can drop by to pick you up. It'll be like old times." Doomwing snickered. "Remember that kingdom of minotaurs in the Fifth Age?"
"I remember. It should have taken us less than a week to burn that kingdom to the ground. You dragged it out for a month because you wanted to eat as many of them as possible." Marcus shook his head. "But me? Bah. Minotaur blood tastes foul."
"Marcus, a minotaur is basically beef that walks on two legs. And we both know that meat with a lot of magic in it tastes better. Since cows aren't exactly known for having lots of magic that makes minotaurs the best beef in the world." Doomwing scoffed. "And if they didn't want to be eaten, their shamans shouldn't have tried to create their own demon god. So... you want me to come and get you?"
Marcus sighed and then shook his head. "I'm afraid I'll be busy for at least another couple of years, old friend."
Doomwing's brows furrowed. "Busy? It's not like you to turn down a chance for a bit of mayhem."
"Normally, I would be happy to go with you, but I found something up here. Do you remember the shadow dragon that you killed at the end of the Fourth Age?" Marcus asked.
"Yes. That bastard was incredibly annoying. He could transform his body into shadows and move through shadows as well. I had to devise several new spells to keep him from escaping me. In the end, I tore out his throat and feasted on his heart. Why do you ask?" Doomwing smiled at the memory. He'd spent weeks chasing after the other dragon, so killing him had been a truly enjoyable experience.
"Do you remember where you dumped the body?"
"In the... far north." Doomwing stared. "Wait... did something happen with his body?" He hadn't bothered to destroy the body since he'd been needed elsewhere and destroying it would have taken time he simply didn't have. After the battle with the Catastrophe of that Age, he'd simply forgotten about the body. After all, he'd already absorbed what power he could from it, and he had injuries of his own to worry about, not to mention Marcus had been on the verge of death.
"I doubt you intended it, but the place you dumped the body became a magical nexus. Over the millennia, the body contaminated the currents of magic in the area, permanently corrupting them. Not long ago, that corruption finally gave rise to an umbral veil that covers several kingdoms' worth of land." Marcus smirked. "The presence of an umbral veil means that the sun no longer shines on this land. I'm an ancient vampire, so sunlight can't kill me. But other vampires? Oh, yeah. This place is about to be really popular with vampires, and whoever controls it can basically set themselves up as the king of the vampires since this will be the first time we've had a sun-free homeland since the end of the Fourth Age. There are at least seven other ancient vampires up here, and that's not counting the three I've already killed."
Doomwing made a face. "There are times when I feel bad about blowing up the vampire homelands... and then I remember that the Catastrophe of that Age was an ancient vampire necromancer who had an army of undead that numbered in the tens of millions."
Marcus chuckled. "Dear old dad never did know when to call it quits. Nobody would have been upset if he had only proclaimed himself king of the vampires, but he just had to try to conquer the world. Say, I never did thank you for killing him, did I?"
"Most people wouldn't thank someone for killing their father," Doomwing pointed out.
"Most people don't have fathers like mine. He was an asshole who got exactly what he deserved."
Doomwing nodded. If he remembered correctly, Marcus's mother hadn't wanted to be a vampire in the first place, but his father had turned her, and Marcus had been born soon after. "If you want, I can still go up north. It's been a while since I've eaten an ancient vampire."
"I appreciate the sentiment, old friend, but I need to do this without your help. If I'm going to call myself the king of the vampires, I can't have someone else fighting my battles for me."
"You have an army fighting your battles for you," Doomwing replied.
"An army of humans and vampires that I recruited. Having a dragon from the First Age show up is a little bit different."
"Is that why you're dressed like a barbarian?" Doomwing asked.
"That's how they dress up here. Besides, I've gotten sick of black leather."
"And the beard?"
"Thought it was time for a change."
"Is that so?" Doomwing felt a pang of disappointment but crushed it ruthlessly. His friend had finally found something that might help him stave off the existential ennui that haunted so many ancient vampires. "All right then. I'll leave you to your conquest. You'll make a good king, Marcus."
"Thank you. That means a lot coming from you." Marcus pursed his lips. "Have you considered staying awake a bit longer this time?"
"Well, I am going to smash a kingdom."
"The last Catastrophe was bad, Doomwing," Marcus said. "And people... people never really recovered. We lost too much too quickly. But you could change that."
"What do you mean?" Doomwing asked.
"If I'm going to be a king, then why don't you become a king too? The last time I was down south, things were a mess. There wasn't a single king worthy of the title, and I doubt much has changed."
"There's never been a dragon king before," Doomwing murmured. Dragons did not have kings, for every dragon was a power unto themselves. Nor did dragons seek kingship. What need did they have for kingdoms when they themselves possessed greater power than any kingdom?
"You'd be the first," Marcus said. "And, to be honest, it's not like you could be any worse than the current bunch of fools who're in charge. You're not pointlessly cruel, and you have a functional brain, as well as access to what is probably the most complete collection of books from previous Ages. Think of how many people you could help." Doomwing gave him a flat look, and the vampire laughed. "Okay, fine. But think of the tribute you would be able to collect if you were a king."
Doomwing's draconic greed stirred. He had seen just how much money a prosperous kingdom could generate. One of the biggest problems dragons faced was finding ways to increase their hoard. The quickest and easiest way was to seize treasure from kingdoms. However, that method simply wasn't viable in the long term. A dragon could only seize a kingdom's treasury two or three times before the kingdom collapsed, and it could be centuries, even millennia, before another prosperous kingdom arose in its place. Sure, a dragon could expand their territory, seizing treasure from kingdoms that were further and further away, but that would eventually bring them into conflict with other dragons, not to mention it was annoying having to travel so far.
His territory was one way of solving that issue. By leaving the villagers to their own devices for a century at a time and then collecting tribute, he could slowly but surely increase the size of his hoard without much effort. Ruling a kingdom would doubtless involve far more effort, but he could already imagine the rewards. Instead of paying taxes, the entire kingdom would be paying tribute to him. A kingdom generated money in so many different ways, and he'd be getting a slice of all of it. Even better, a kingdom was full of people who could do things. Instead of simply receiving more gold and silver, there was a chance that he could get his subjects to make him new artefacts and other treasures. Sure, he'd probably have to share some of his knowledge and wisdom with them, but it had been so long since he'd added new artefacts and treasures to his hoard.
"Perhaps I could try it," Doomwing said at last. "Dragon Emperor Doomwing does have a nice ring to it."
"Dragon emperor?"
"Naturally, I have to be above any mere king, and an emperor is greater than a king."
"Maybe I should call myself Vampire Emperor Marcus after I win then."
Doomwing scoffed. "Really? Call yourself whatever you like, but I will always be greater than you."
"You sure about that?" Marcus snickered. "Fine. How about this? We can both become kings -"
"That's dragon emperor-"
"We can both become kings, and then we see who does a better job of actually being a king."
"You think you can be a better king than me?" Doomwing asked. "Impossible. I am a dragon, Marcus. I'm naturally awesome at everything."
"We'll see."
"Fine." Doomwing smiled. "I'll keep in touch, Marcus. And if things don't work out up there, don't lose your life fighting battles you can't win."
"Worried about me?" Marcus asked.
"Not really. But a dragon emperor does need good servants..."
"Oh, shut up."
Doomwing sneered. "Bite me."
"You're only saying that because you know I can't bite through your scales."
"Of course." Doomwing's sneer gave way to a grin. "Good luck, Marcus. I believe in you. You really will make a good king."
"That's-"
"But not as good a king as me." Doomwing took a moment to savour the vampire's outraged expression before he cut the connection. Ah, the joys of being the person who operated the mirror. He always got the last word in.
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Threadmarks Chapter 4: The Dragon Talks To A Tree
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SecretTwelve
Jan 27, 2024
#24
Chapter 4: The Dragon Talks To A Tree
"Any word from Captain Evans?" Callan asked. He and Jarod had come from neighbouring towns, so they had stuck together another during their training days. Neither were of noble birth, so they had often found themselves squaring off against the children of nobles eager to put two commoners back in their place. They had proven themselves worthy in the end. Jarod had won the king's favour and had risen to be one of the kingdom's most famous knights. Callan had not risen so high, but his position as captain of a fort along the border was far better than his life as a farmer's third son would otherwise have been.
The soldier tasked with watching the lands to the east shook his head. "There have been no signals, captain."
"I see." Callan's brows furrowed. Jarod should already be on the way back with his men, and he was supposed to send up a beam of light as a signal.
"They have a lot of ground to cover," the soldier said. "Perhaps it is simply taking them longer than expected."
"Aye." Callan nodded more to himself than the other man. "That must be it."
He was not fond of the plan to raid the villages in the dragon's territory. The dragon only stirred once a century, so they should still have another twenty-five years before the beast awakened. Supposedly, the king had a plan in place to deal with the beast should it happen to show itself, but Callan was not as quick to dismiss the rumours of its size as others had been. A dragon a mile long? It sounded like lunacy, yet the stories over the centuries had been incredibly consistent on that point. It was entirely possible that all of their ancestors had been fools who gave the reptile's power more respect than it deserved, but he doubted all of them had been blind.
A shadow fell over them. Callan and the soldier both looked up, and the captain's mouth went dry. Gleaming like a cloud of ruby and sapphire in the silver light of the moon was a dragon. Normally, the outpost was bustling with activity, even at this time of night. Now, not a single person or animal dared to move or make a sound. The wyverns the scouts used to patrol the cruel, rugged terrain to the north and south had pressed their heads to the ground and folded their wings in a sign of obeisance.
Callan had ridden a wyvern into battle before. He had even glimpsed a dragon from afar. His wyvern had not kneeled then. It had been eager for battle, keen to prove that it deserved its place in the sky. Not this time. Faced with a dragon a mile long, the wyverns could only pay homage and hope that the dragon did not see fit to annihilate them for having the audacity to fly in its sky.
"Captain..." The soldier swallowed thickly. "Shall... shall we dispatch the wyvern riders, archers, and mages?"
Callan stared at him. "Are you insane? What would they even do against a beast that size? And look at the wyverns. Do you think a single one of them would dare to take wing when that thing is still in the air?" His fists clenched. If the dragon had crossed the border, then Jarod was likely already dead, along with all of his troops. "Send word to the capital with the communication crystal. We must warn them."
The communication crystal was one of the treasures of the outpost. It had the range to reach the capital itself although the magic involved was too delicate for the crystal to be taken out of the outpost. Instead, it had to be kept in a special room where skilled mages and artificers spent much of their time ensuring it was in optimal condition.
Had Doomwing known about it, he would have laughed. Imagine spending so much time on a crystal that utilised a spell of the fifth order. How utterly laughable! The captains of the Sixth Age had carried around pendants with far greater range and far better reliability. Elerion had even received one from his daughter that had let her speak to him even when he was on the other side of the continent.
Doomwing was tempted to burn every single outpost along the border to the ground. But if he was going to crown himself emperor, then those outposts would soon be his. There was no reason to burn them unless the people in them were stupid enough to fight him. Thus far all of them had done their best impressions of moles, hiding away in their little buildings and hoping he didn't notice them. He had also run into a patrol of wyvern riders. Three of the four wyverns had done the intelligent thing and had immediately gone to ground, bowing to him as was proper for the beasts. He had always found wyverns amusing with their mix of reptilian and avian features. Unlike drakes, however, wyverns knew where they stood in the food chain, and they had no qualms about acknowledging their betters. He had lost count of how many drakes had tried to challenge him. Those up-jumped lizards seemed to think they could defeat him if they simply gathered in greater numbers.
Of course, they didn't stand a chance. It was basic math. A thousand times zero was still zero.
On the upside, drakes were tasty. Ah, what he wouldn't give for a nice drake to come along and pick a fight. He could really use a bunch of sea drakes for dinner. They had a wonderful saltiness to them that other drakes lacked, and their scales were nice and crunchy too. Oh well. Perhaps he'd visit the coast later. There were bound to be at least a few stupid drakes there for him to eat.
The fourth and final wyvern was the only one foolish enough to challenge him. To the horror of its rider, the beast gave a shrill, keening cry and dove toward him. The beast was brave, albeit incredibly stupid. Doomwing grinned and opened his mouth. Why go looking for a snack when a snack had come to him? A moment later, his jaws snapped shut, crushing both the wyvern and its rider. Like all dragons, Doomwing consumed not only flesh but also metal. The wyvern and its rider were barely a morsel, and the scraps of metal that passed for armour and weapons were bland and tasteless. Mundane steel with a hint of magic, nothing above the second order.
As he continued toward where Jarod's memories said the capital was, Doomwing felt a familiar sliver of power. He gave a low rumble and then decided to change course. The capital would still be there later, and this power might very well prove useful to the farmers in his territory. He turned south and landed outside a complex of abandoned buildings. From the looks of them, they had been left to fall into disrepair and had not seen any real care in at least several centuries.
The power he sensed was further in, and he simply moved forward, smashing his way through the crumbling, derelict buildings until he reached the inner sanctum of the complex. There, gilded in faint emerald light, was a tree. It was a large tree, tall and thick and bustling with life. Families of ornery raccoons glared down at him, and groups of squirrels came forth to shake their little paws at him. He chuckled. How amusing. The raccoons and squirrels of this Age showed more courage than the humans. Elerion would have laughed until he could barely breathe.
The emerald light upon the tree coalesced into a humanoid shape in front of him.
"It has been a long time since I have met a daughter of the Mother Tree," Doomwing rumbled.
The dryad stared back at him. A human might have missed it, but he could see the small signs of fear she was unable to control and sense the barely concealed terror within her. Yet there she stood, resolute despite the utter disparity in power, more concerned about what he might do to the animals who lived in her branches than the ease with which he could annihilate her. It was worthy of praise, and he settled back onto his haunches, no longer looming but lounging. She relaxed ever so slightly and cleared her throat. Like most of her kind, her skin was a collage of greens and browns, and her eyes reminded him of fresh sap drawn from the maple trees of the north.
"What business do you have with me, dragon?" the dryad asked.
"I am curious about how you came to be in human lands," Doomwing replied. "You are no mere dryad. You are a daughter of the Mother Tree, and I have never seen your like outside the lands of the elves."
"What do you know of the Mother Tree?" the dryad asked.
"I know plenty." For a moment, Doomwing was lost in his memories. "I played in her branches when I was but a hatchling, yet even then, she was so tall that it seemed as though her branches held up the stars and cradled the sun and the moon. She gifted me with fruits from her boughs and stroked my scales when I was weary and my parents were far away. I knew her, little sapling, and I was there when she died."
"To dragon fire!" the dryad hissed. "Burnt to ash by your kind!" Tears prickled at her eyes, and they flowed down her cheeks in sad rivers of viridian. "I know that much, though the seed that birthed me slumbered long, only awakening when the song of the Sixth Catastrophe fell silent. But her memories are within me, passed down like they were to all her daughters."
For a long moment, Doomwing was silent. He did not see the dryad. He saw her mother. He saw her insisting that she was right up until the end, begging him to try to understand, to see that everything would better if he and the other dragons would just stop fighting and go along with her plans. She had spoken those words while standing atop a mountain of dead elves, the forest-dwellers so devoted to her that they had not retreated even in the face of dragon fire, had instead chosen to stand and fight a battle against all the free peoples of the world until their once glorious empire had been nought but ash and ruin.
And still, even on that final night, the elves had fought. They had died in numbers so great that even at the end of the Sixth Age, they had yet to truly recover. But they had been glorious. He would give them that. Never before or since had any rain threatened to pierce his scales, but the arrows of the elves had been many, and the magic woven into them had been splendid. They had slain dragons back when dragons were still mighty, and they had not turned their backs, no matter how hopeless the battle had become.
The Mother Tree was their ancestral home, and she was the one who had cared for and nourished them all their lives. To die in her defence was an honour, and Doomwing had bestowed it upon many that grim day.
And then the Mother Tree had burned, scorched with dragon fire and blasted with magic, torn asunder and scattered on the wind in a storm of ash and embers. In her dying moments, she had released her seeds, and those few elves who had not been tasked with defending her had taken those seeds and fled. Those seeds had given rise to the great forests of later Ages, and the elves had rebuilt their lives around them. He had tried to speak to a few of them, but they knew his face and his fire, and so they would not speak. But he was no senseless brute. As long as they did not follow their mother's path, they had no cause to fear him.
And he could still remember the days when the oldest of trees had offered him fruits and stroked his scales. His parents had taught him all that a dragon should know, but dragons did not know mercy or comfort or a hundred other things. They were weaknesses, and a dragon must be strong. He had not learned those things from the Mother Tree. He had been too young then, too set in his ways. But she had shown them to him all the same, and if not for her, then perhaps he would never have learned them at all.
"Will you burn me to ash as you burnt my mother?" the dryad asked.
"Not unless you give me reason," Doomwing said at last. "Speak. How did you come to be here?"
"I do not know. I think my seed was carried by elves, but some misfortune befell them. Yet it was fate that guided me to worthy hands. My seed was found by King Altarius not long after the Sixth Catastrophe fell silent. He recognised what I was and brought me here." The dryad's gaze grew distant. "Back then, dragon, there were fields here, fields as far as my eyes could see. The people were happy, and the soil was rich."
"There are no more fields here," Doomwing replied. "Only weeds. And the soil is dry and lifeless. What happened?"
"Altarius was good king," the dryad said. "And so was his son. But the son after that was a mediocre king, and the one after that was worse. The fields of produce were no longer enough. They wanted more, and so they sought to use a forgotten magic to boost the growth of their crops beyond even what my powers could accomplish. I warned them against it. When the fields died and the soil turned to dust, they cursed me and left this place to rot. They would have burned me, I think, but they feared me enough to leave me be."
"Clearly, they did not heed your advice."
"And so little grows here now except the weeds." The dryad nodded at the animals in her tree. "There were many of them back then. These are all that remain, and I do not know how long I can sustain them. The ground here is no longer meant for such as me."
"The king who found you, this Altarius, who was his father?" Doomwing asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to have it confirmed.
"His father was the last High King, Elerion the Valiant, or so he said."
"I see." Doomwing had known Altarius. He had been a good man with a son of his own. Elerion had loved all his children, but Altarius had held a special place in his heart. The boy had been born sickly, yet he had survived and thrived, growing to become a son that any man would be proud of. It was pleasing to know he had been a good king although his descendants left much to be desired. "Then the kings of this land are his descendants?"
"Yes."
"Are all of them fools?" Doomwing asked. "Has the blood of the High King grown so thin that not a single one of them is worthy of the title of king?"
"The current king is a fool, or so I hear from the birds that visit me. However, he is said to have a younger brother who is wise, and it is he who has kept the kingdom from falling beneath the weight of the king's ambition. The king's eldest daughter is also said to be more like her ancestors than her father, so perhaps there is hope for the kingdom yet." The dryad's anger seemed to have banked, like the coals of a fire being readied for a long night. "What now, dragon?"
"Now... I make you an offer." Doomwing rose up from his haunches. "Your mother was my friend, for all that I helped strike her down. If you stay here, you will die. Perhaps not for a century, perhaps not even for two centuries, but you will die. The magic that was tried has poisoned this place, and you do not have the skill or power to undo it. If you were older, maybe, but you are young for a dryad." Doomwing spread his wings wide as if to carry the whole weight of the sky upon his shoulders. "Would you like to be amidst fields again, dryad?"
"I would, dragon. But do you have any?"
"I have many," Doomwing replied. "And they are tended to by good folk. If you want, I will take you to the lands I have claimed. I will plant you in rich soil, and you will be amidst fields again. The people there are simple villagers and farmers. They do not have the greedy, grasping hands of unworthy kings. They will love the gifts you give, and they will cherish and protect you."
"How can I trust you?" the dryad asked quietly. "You killed my mother. You could kill me with less than a thought."
Doomwing took a deep breath. "What need have I for the petty tricks and deceit of lesser beings? I am Doomwing, a dragon of the First Age. I am not like the weak and cowardly dragons of later Ages. I am what dragons were meant to be, and my words are truth. I do not make oaths lightly, but I do not break the ones I make. If you will swear to aid me in my endeavours and those who serve me, then my claws, my teeth, and my fire shall defend you!" He lowered his voice. "Your mother was kind to me, and there are few indeed who offer kindness to dragons. I would repay that kindness, at least in this small way."
"How... how would you bring me to your lands?" the dryad asked.
Doomwing chuckled. "I am a mile long, dryad, and I wield magic that the bumbling conjurors of this Age could not hope to understand. Transporting you to my lands safely will be no issue."
"And them?" The dryad glanced back at the animals in her branches.
"My protection will be extended to those who rely upon you as well."
"Then..." The dryad took a deep breath. "Then I will make an oath to you."
"Good." Doomwing paused as a thought occurred to him. "What is your name, dryad?"
"You're only asking that now?" She chuckled. "Daphne. My name is Daphne."
Author's Note
Thank you to everyone who has liked or replied. It's very much appreciated.
Next chapter will be Doomwing's arrival in the capital. That should be fun. Better still, he might not even be the biggest problem the capital is facing. I mean, yes, physically, he'd definitely be the biggest problem, but they've got another problem to deal with too. After all, news of a giant dragon headed their way is bound to encourage certain individuals to make their move since the king is clearly incompetent...
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Threadmarks Chapter 5: Regime Change
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SecretTwelve
Jan 28, 2024
#33
Chapter 5: Regime Change
As Doomwing neared the capital, he realised why the place had looked so familiar in Jarod's memories. He'd been there before. In fact, he'd visited it regularly toward the end of the Sixth Age.
The capital was a hodgepodge of buildings. The largest and finest of the buildings were clearly remnants from the Sixth Age, worn and weathered but still magnificent, a testament to the heights humanity had reached before the Sixth Catastrophe. Much of the magic that had once protected them had faded, most likely because the techniques required to maintain them had been forgotten centuries ago. In keeping with Elerion's tastes in architecture, the buildings made extensive use of sweeping arches, ornate pillars, and slender, soaring towers.
Frankly, Doomwing had always thought it all looked a bit pretentious, but he was a dragon. His kind had never put much stock in architecture because they had never needed buildings to shelter themselves. Their scales were proof against even the most inclement weather, and the fire that dwelt within them shielded them from whatever cold the world could muster. To a dragon, the only thing that mattered was defensibility. A stout fortress with many soldiers, mages, and weapons to defend it was far more pleasing to a dragon's eye than any appeal to aesthetics.
Elerion had called him a boor, and Marcus had agreed with him. Not that it mattered. Dragons had never really believed in democracy. Instead, they prized strength and power. By that metric, Doomwing was clearly in the right because he was stronger than both of his friends. Kagami had agreed with him although he suspected that she had only done that to be obnoxious. It was just like her to say something outrageous to provoke a reaction from Elerion. She was probably the only person in the world who could look at the High King and call him adorable.
It was a pity that he'd been forced to kill her later although, by that point, she hadn't really been Kagami anymore.
The other buildings in the capital were less impressive although there were clear signs of progression. The buildings that were about two centuries old were mostly made of bricks, and there was little to praise about either their strength or their appearance. However, the newest buildings, some of which appeared to have been made in the last decade or two, showed commendable masonry work, and there were spells of the second and third order woven into the stone. It was far from impressive, but the improvement was nevertheless worthy of praise.
However, what truly drew his eye was the large, almost perfectly circular lake beside the capital.
He could remember making that lake. Elerion had whined about not having a suitable lake where he could build a holiday palace, and Doomwing had gotten so sick of his whinging that he'd used his power to carve out a circular crater and fill it with water. Naturally, Kagami had berated him for using his power so recklessly, but that hadn't stopped her from immediately seizing control of the construction crews that Elerion had dispatched. Since he was basically building the palace for her, she saw no reason not to oversee construction personally.
It was a shame she'd blown it up later.
Still, it was nice to see the lake again. He'd almost forgotten it. No. He'd made an effort not to think about it because of all the memories that came with it. There had been a lot of good memories, but there had been plenty of bad ones too. He could still remember the arguments they'd had about what sort of fish they should add to the lake. In the end, he'd let the others decide. It wasn't as though anything they could add would be large enough to sate his appetite since anything big enough would probably eat everything else they put in the lake. Oh well. If he wanted a whale or a kraken, he could always fly to the sea. It wasn't far, not for him.
As he circled over the capital, he realised that the city was in uproar... and not because of him. Soldiers were clashing on the streets, and the large complex of buildings that Jarod's memories told him was the palace was currently on fire. Were they under attack? No. The soldiers were wearing similar uniforms and armour, which meant it was probably an uprising of some sort. But what could have caused it? His lips curled. He had felt the use of communication magic while flying over the border. Being told that a giant dragon was headed toward the capital might have been the impetus that prospective rebels needed. After all, if the king had angered the aforementioned giant dragon, then clearly he was incompetent and needed to be removed.
How amusing. Doomwing was almost tempted to let the whole thing play out, but if he wanted to be a decent emperor, then he'd need decent minions. It wouldn't do if the incompetent king survived at the expense of more competent subordinates.
Princess Antaria cut down another member of the royal guard and looked around to see if her uncle was still alive. Their attempt to oust her father had not gone as they'd planned. For all of his reckless ambition and greed, her father's paranoia had served him well. The twenty members of the royal guard that followed him everywhere had been accompanied by a further thirty, all of them hidden using an artefact that she hadn't known about. Throw in the swarms of regular soldiers and mages her father had at his disposal, and the elite strike force that she and her uncle had counted on to quickly take him into custody had suddenly found itself besieged on all sides.
At some point, some fool had also set fire to the palace. Not only were they badly outnumbered but they were also operating on a time limit. So far, the fire was confined to the eastern wing, but it wouldn't be long before it spread. Worse, the head of the royal guard was a skilled tactician, and he had been slowly but surely pushing their forces toward the fire. They had called for reinforcements from their supporters in the city, but the last she'd heard, they were currently tied up fighting loyalists in the streets.
"Antaria!"
She turned and breathed a sigh of relief. Her uncle was still alive although his armour was dented in several places, and his left arm hung limp by his side. "Uncle."
Another royal guardsman rushed toward her, and she called on her dwindling reserves of magic. The third-order fire spell formed more slowly than she'd like, and it had little of the power she'd been able to muster when the battle had begun. However, it was enough to throw her opponent off balance, and she drove her sword through the visor of his helmet. The strike wasn't perfect, but the enchanted edge of the weapon let her pierce through the steel of his helmet.
She yanked her sword free and bit back a curse as more soldiers poured into the hallway. "Uncle, we are losing."
"I am well aware of that," he said. "But we both knew this was a possibility when we decided to make our move."
"This was our best chance," Antaria replied. "With a dragon on the way, I thought we'd be able to catch my father off guard. Who would have known he'd be more worried about potential rebellion than a mile-long reptile with revenge on its mind?"
"True. But my brother has always been paranoid about treachery since that's how he took the throne in the first place." Her uncle sighed. "Get out of here. We're boxed in, and it's only a matter of time before we're overrun. You know all the secret passages in the palace. You'll be able to get out. Flee the city and try to rally more support. If you're lucky, the dragon will burn this place to the ground, and you won't even have to fight your father for control."
"I'd still have to face my brothers," Antaria replied. "And they are older and have more support."
"They're a lot like your father. I can see them being foolish enough to challenge the dragon."
"Uncle..."
"Just go." He chuckled. "Your father hates me. The only reason I'm still alive is because he knows I'm better at running a kingdom than he is. As long as I was useful, he was willing to tolerate me. But now? Not a chance. I'll kill as many of them as I can before I die, and I might even get lucky and kill him too." He clenched his right fist. "I've never been much of a fighter anyway, but I do know a spell or two that might be useful here."
"We can both get out," Antaria insisted. "And -"
The ground shook violently, and the combatants glanced about warily. Had one of them done that? Was it an earthquake? Was there a third group -
The ceiling came apart. No. It was torn off and cast aside like a piece of kindling. Gleaming golden eyes appeared above them, and ruby and sapphire scales gleamed in the firelight. It was the dragon.
"Good evening," the dragon drawled, and his voice was like thunder rolling across the plains. "Am I interrupting?"
Her father, who had emerged, most likely to watch her and her uncle die, pointed a finger at the beast. "What are you all standing around for? Kill him! Kill the dragon!"
To their credit, the royal guard moved to obey. A single, titanic claw came down, and a dozen of them were squashed flat in an instant. The others stopped and stared, and her father made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a scream. She would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so dire. She hadn't even known he could make a sound like that.
A burst of power rippled outward, and the fire raging toward them died. The dragon smiled, and Antaria almost fainted at the sight of how large his teeth were.
"So..." The dragon's gaze flicked to her father. "You must be the king who thought it was a good idea to send soldiers to attack the people who live in my territory."
"..." Her father tried to speak, but no words would come out.
"Those people owed me tribute... tribute, which your soldiers destroyed." The dragon's eyes narrowed. "You have stolen from me, and I do not tolerate thieves."
"I am a king," her father finally managed to say. "You have no power over me."
"You think your title gives you power?" The dragon laughed, and the sound of it almost knocked Antaria off her feet. "Oh, how amusing. Titles don't give you power, little human. No. Power is what allows you to win titles. How do you think Elerion the Valiant became High King? It was power, pure, overwhelming power. That was why the other humans knelt to him, why they offered him their crowns, their daughters, and their kingdoms. And it was why he was never so stupid as to demand my obedience because he knew that for all his power, I could still crush him like a bug."
Her father snarled. "You overestimate yourself dragon." He smiled craftily. "I was warned of your arrival, and I have prepared a suitable greeting for you." He raised his voice. "Now! Do as I command! Strike down the dragon!"
Mages emerged from hidden passages, and they carried with them artefacts taken from the vaults deep below the palace. Anataria's eyes widened. Those were ancient artefacts, amongst the most powerful the kingdom had. Her father had used those to slay a dragon in the past.
"You're going to try to kill me with those?" The dragon rolled his eyes. "I'm insulted."
The artefacts and the mages holding them exploded in vivid bursts of blood and gore.
Her father stared.
"Trinkets and toys," the dragon said. "They are so worthless I wouldn't even add them to my hoard. Now... what shall I do with you?"
Her father dropped to his knees. "Spare me, mighty dragon! Spare me, and I will hand over my kingdom and my crown!"
It was cowardly, but Antaria couldn't blame him. The dragon had destroyed some of the kingdom's greatest treasures with ease, and he was so massive that she couldn't imagine anything being able to harm him. In the face of such overwhelming might, what could her father do but kneel? He had delusions of grandeur, but he also enjoyed living. Of course, if the dragon spared him, she had no doubt that her father would eventually try to stab him in the back the second he thought he could win.
"If I give you an order, will you obey?" Amusement filled the dragon's voice.
"Of course," her father said. "Merely speak the word, and I shall do as you ask."
"Hmm... very well." The dragon smiled again. "Then die."
"What?"
The dragon brought his claw down again, and thus passed Antaria's father, the king who dared to call himself Elerion after their great ancestor. The dragon raised his claw and then flicked it the same way a man might flick his hand after squashing a fly.
"How pathetic," the dragon said. "The real Elerion wouldn't have knelt there. He would have died fighting, as futile as it would have been. Some men, after all, do not have it in them to kneel, while others will sacrifice anything and everything just to live another day." His golden eyes snapped to Antaria and her uncle. "I am told that the king had a younger brother who wasn't completely hopeless at running a kingdom. Is that you?"
Her uncle gulped and nodded. "Yes, mighty dragon. That would be me."
"Good. You are now king."
"... what?" her uncle blurted.
"I am taking over this kingdom. From this day forward, I will be Dragon Emperor Doomwing. This kingdom belongs to me now, and it will not be long before I add others to it. You will rule it in my name as king."
"I... uh... okay?" her uncle replied.
"Serve me well, and you will be richly rewarded. Serve me poorly, and you will die like your predecessor." Doomwing bared his teeth again. "Your name is Enarion, isn't it?" Her uncle nodded slowly. "And you have great interest in science, magic, and lore of the past, do you not?" He nodded again. "I am a dragon of the First Age."
"The First Age?" Her uncle took a step forward. "Then... you have scrolls and books from the past?"
"I have all the books and scroll you could possibly hope for. Serve me to the best of your ability, and I will allow you to read copies of some of them. In fact, I will even grant you access to certain texts to ensure you can serve me better."
"What... what do you wish for me to do?" her uncle asked.
"I have been told that you are responsible for a large part of this kingdom's recent prosperity. I am a dragon. What I wish for is tribute. The more prosperous this kingdom is, the more tribute it will be able to give me. Therefore, your task is to guide this kingdom, my kingdom, to even greater prosperity."
Her uncle took off his helmet, and she could see that there were tears glistening in the corner of his eyes. Who could blame him? The dragon had spared them and instead of demanding they hand over people to be devoured, he had instead ordered her uncle to lead the kingdom to greater prosperity. "I will do as you have asked, great Doomwing."
"Call me Dragon Emperor Doomwing."
"Of course. Dragon Emperor Doomwing." Her uncle made a face. "But there are those who will oppose me. My brother had sons. They will not doubt try to overthrow me."
"Kindly inform them that any and all attacks on you will be viewed as attacks on me." Doomwing's eyes gleamed with the promise of violence. "And there will be no second chances. Only death. They can cooperate, or they can die." He glanced at the remaining members of the royal guard, as well as the soldiers who had, until Doomwing's arrival, been doing their best to kill them. "That goes for everybody else too."
The guardsmen and soldiers immediately fell to their knees and began to pledge their loyalty. It was completely understandable too.
"I also require one other thing," Doomwing said.
"What is it, dragon emperor?"
"Her." Doomwing pointed at Antaria. "I'll be needing her."
Antaria's eyes widened. "Me?" she croaked. "What do you need me for?"
"What does anyone need a princess for?" Doomwing asked.
"Um..." Antaria couldn't help but think of all the stories she'd read about dragons and what they did to princesses. "I..." She looked at her uncle for help. He stared back at her and shrugged helplessly. "Are you going to eat me?" she asked at last.
"..." Doomwing tilted his head to the side. "You're absolutely tiny. You wouldn't even be a snack. No. I'm not going to eat you. I need someone to help manage the villages in my territory. From now on, that's going to be you."
"Oh."
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Threadmarks Interlude 1: The Hatchling
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SecretTwelve
Jan 29, 2024
#43
Interlude 1: The Hatchling
Doomwing couldn't help but envy his parents' scales. His father's scales were a deep red that called to mind the horizon at dawn or dusk whilst his mother's were a vivid blue that reminded him of the sky just after the sun had dipped below the horizon and darkness had yet to truly fall. They were big too, so much bigger than he was. They were each roughly seven hundred feet long although his father was perhaps a few feet longer. In contrast, Doomwing was a mere twelve feet in length.
But he would grow. for as long as a dragon lived, they would only grow bigger and stronger, or so his parents had told him. It seemed like only yesterday he had been a mere ten feet in length, and he could still vaguely remember a time when he had been smaller. He ate well each day, feasting on the scraps of kraken, leviathan, and whale that his parents brought him and on the fish, deer, and cattle that he was large enough to slay. There was something satisfying about eating what he killed, something that felt right and honest and true in a way that eating the food others gave him never did.
"Have you finished eating?" his mother poked him with her tail. Had she wanted, she could easily have smashed every bone in his body, yet her touch was firm without being painful. "Your father and I must tend to our duties. We will accompany you to Mother Tree, but we expect you to work hard." Her amethyst gaze burned into him. "Do not spend all your time playing with the other hatchlings and children, and do not waste you time with that layabout god."
"Yes, mother," Doomwing replied. Of course, he had no intention of spending all his time studying. His parents lived high up in the mountains, so his classes with Mother Tree were his best opportunity to meet other hatchlings and children, and Dion was an interesting god. True, he wasn't very powerful or good at fighting, but he was fun to be around, and he seemed to know all about the best things to eat and drink.
"He is a hatchling," his father rumbled. "Let him have his fun. He will be grown soon enough, and then he will have duties of his own to attend to."
"Even so," his mother insisted. "He has a mind for magic, our Doomwing, but it will mean little if he does not study."
"Hmph." His father loomed over him, golden eyes shining like twin suns. "You are smaller than your mother or I were at your age, Doomwing, but your mother speaks the truth. You have a talent for magic than neither of us did. Work hard. Perhaps you will get more pleasant duties because of it."
Doomwing nodded. He had learned that it was better to just agree with his parents when they were in this sort of mood. They were always going on about their duties. He could appreciate what an honour it was to help the gods shape the world, but why couldn't they spend more time actually enjoying what they'd built? It seemed a shame to make so many wonderful things and then never have the chance to savour them. Dion agreed, which is why the god spend so much time coming up with new foods and drinks. Many thought his efforts wasteful when there was still so much to do, but everybody needed to eat and drink, so why not make the experience more pleasant?
His parents took to the skies, and Doomwing followed them into the air. Given his small size, he couldn't keep up if they flew at their full speed, so they slowed their pace to allow him to fly between him. There were few things that could threaten an adult dragon, but hatchlings were far more vulnerable. He was safe as long as his parents were nearby, and he would be safe with Mother Tree and Dion. Dion might not be much of a fighter, but he was still a god, and Mother Tree was stronger than all but the very mightiest gods.
As they flew, Doomwing gazed at the horizon. They were still far away, but he could already see Mother Tree. She was so tall that her trunk pierced through the clouds, and her branches cast shadows for dozens and dozens of miles. She was so large that even his parents could perch upon her boughs, and even the largest of dragons could not come close to matching her size. Doomwing licked his lips. Mother Tree always had the tastiest fruits for the hatchling and children who attended class. They were both a reward to encourage their best efforts and a way of keeping hunger from bothering them. Dragon hatchlings were almost always hungry, and Doomwing spent most of his time eating to fuel his rapid growth.
As they neared the tree, they came across a multitude of other fliers. There were massive eagles as large as his parents, flocks of wyverns, and even packs of drakes although his parents turned their noses up at them. Apparently, drakes were like dragons, only far smaller and weaker. There were also sky whales and sky krakens, and strange, feathered serpents soared through the clouds. Clouds of small birds, fairies, and other creatures flitted here and there, unbothered by their presence because all knew that violence would not be tolerated within the shadows of Mother Tree. Anyone who disagreed would face her wrath.
Once they were close enough to spot the branch where the other hatchlings and children had gathered, his parents turned and angled south to where they would be helping the gods shape a series of islands in a newly created sea. Doomwing folded his wings and dove, landing beside a dragon whose scales were a patchwork of blues, blacks, greys, and silvers.
"You're early today," Stormtooth chirped. She nudged him with her head. "And you've grown bigger too."
Doomwing made a face. "But you're still bigger than me even though we hatched on the same day."
She chortled. "That's because you're small for your age whereas I am large." She puffed out her chest and flared her wings. The sudden gust of wind drew several scowls from a group of young elves nearby, but she simply bared her teeth in a toothy smile. "I'm also a weather dragon. Everyone knows weather dragons are the best lineage."
He scoffed and poked her with his tail. It was still a bit stubby, but he was hoping it would grow long enough to whip things with soon. "At least wait until you're a hail dragon before saying that."
She rolled her green eyes. "A hail dragon? Don't be silly. It'll be a while until either of us has our First Awakening, and you can be sure I'll have mine before you have yours."
Doomwing bared his teeth. "Just you wait. I'll be a nova dragon one day." He jabbed her lightly with his wings. He'd always been proud of them. He might be small for his age, but his wings had always been unusually large. That was why his parents had called him Doomwing.
"A nova dragon? You're a burst dragon now. You'd need to go through Four Awakenings to become a nova dragon, and only three dragons in the world have managed that."
"I'll be the fourth," Doomwing insisted. "Just you watch."
"Yeah. Yeah." Stormtooth padded forward as Mother Tree appeared, a dryad rising up out of the branch ahead of them. Unlike other trees, Mother Tree could make plenty of dryads, and she could hear and speak through all of them. That was how she was able to run so many classes at the same time. "We're supposed to be covering runes today, right?"
Doomwing nodded eagerly. "Yeah. That's what they said last time."
They took up their spots on the branch and waited patiently as Mother Tree checked to make sure everyone was there. Dion appeared soon after, his god-metal body gleaming in the sun, divine runes inscribed upon his skin. He was the same size as an adult elf, but he carried himself with a grace and power that no elf could match. He held a wineskin in one hand, and there was a box of food in the other. Doomwing sniffed the air and sighed. His friend had sealed it to make sure the smell would not spread. Perhaps he would share whatever was in it with him later.
"Now that you are all here," Mother Tree began in a soft, musical voice. "We may begin." She nodded. "Dion."
The god stepped forward. His eyes were gemstones of topaz and garnet, and they both shone with iridescent light as he began to speak. "Today, we will be covering runes. Now, I'm sure you have all heard a great many things about runes. Some are probably true. Others are probably false. Our task today is to provide you with some understanding of what runes are and why learning them would be a good thing."
Dion raised one hand and traced a symbol in the air. The symbol pulsed, and warm, gentle light washed over them. "The world is a story," Dion said. "Written by the gods and those who work alongside them. Runes are the words that make up that story. In the beginning, before the world was made, there were only the Seven Gods, and each of them discovered a primordial rune. It was with those seven primordial runes that they created the world and all the life that now dwells within it. Yet the Seven Gods were not the only ones who could use runes. Divine runes are the runes used by the other gods, and although none are so mighty as the seven primordial runes, they can nevertheless add to and change the story of the world."
Mother Tree smiled. "In time, the creations of the gods learned to use their own runes. These are the ancient runes, those wielded by the oldest and greatest creations of the gods. Dragons can wield them, as can I and my daughters."
Doomwing puffed out his chest and nudged Stormtooth. "Dragons are awesome, aren't they?"
She grinned back. "Of course."
"Below the ancient runes are greater runes, lesser runes, and basic runes that can be used by other creatures who are not blessed with the same level of power," Dion said. "The most important requirement for using runes is that you have a soul because only those who have souls can use runes."
"Why is that?" a young elf child near the front asked.
"The world's story is written with runes," Dion replied. "To use a rune is to change the story of the world. You can think of it as changing fate or destiny. But fate and destiny to not bow to just anyone. You need something special to push against the tide, something that tells the world you're worth listening to. That thing is a soul. It is why only the Seven Gods can use primordial runes. Only their souls have the power to use them. Likewise, only gods can use divine runes because our souls are different from others. Likewise, only the mightiest other souls like dragons or Mother Tree can use ancient runes."
Dion smiled. "Now, you might be asking why you should bother learning runes when you all can use other kinds of magic." There were nods all around. "It is true that all of you have magic of your own. For some of you, it is almost instinctive, as much a part of you as your arm or your leg. For others, it is something you learn. Such magic is generally divided into orders, with each order being more powerful and complex than the one before. The more talented of you have already progressed as far as the fifth order, but you still have a long way to go. Even a weak god like me can still use magic of the tenth order with relative ease." He paused, and his expression grew serious. "You want to learn runes because they are capable of doing things that other magic cannot. When you use other magic properly, you change the world around you. When you use runes properly, the world itself changes for you. That might not sound like a big difference, but think of it like this. Let's say you're on the beach. You could make a little wave by moving the water around with your hands or flapping your wings. If you were big enough and strong enough, you could even make a very big wave. But could that wave compare to the power of the tides themselves, to the sea itself moving from its very depths all the way to the surface? Of course not. What is the power of even the mightiest individual compared to the entire sea? After all, even the gods who made the sea did not make it alone, and even now, not a single one of them could command all of it without help."
Doomwing listened intently. His parents had told him about runes, but they did not have Dion's flair for speech, nor did they have his easy charm. People liked listening to him, and Doomwing was no different.
"Could you show us the difference?" Stormtooth asked.
"I was hoping someone would ask that." Dion chuckled. "Mother Tree, a target, if you could?"
The dryad sighed and then gestured. Part of the branch rose up into a shape that roughly resembled a tree. "Try not to make too much of a mess."
"As if a mere fire could harm you." Dion pointed. "I'll start off with a simple seventh-order fire spell." The words were accompanied by a flash of light and heat followed by a tremendous boom. A sphere of searing flame enveloped the target. The air burned, and the shockwave of the blast washed over them. The attack would have melted a hill into little more than a puddle of molten rock. As the spell faded, Doomwing peered at the target. It was scorched and burnt but largely intact. "Are you trying to make me look bad?" Dion asked, raising an eyebrow.
Mother Tree covered her mouth with one hand to hide a giggle. "Work hard, children, or you'll end up like him."
"You wound me." Dion clutched at his chest dramatically before straightening. "As you can see, a mere seventh-order spell failed to inflict anything more than superficial damage on the target. How about if I use a greater rune of fire?" He gestured, and Mother Tree called up an identical target. Dion traced intricate shapes in the air, and a tangle of crimson light appeared around the target.
And then it burned.
Within seconds, the target had been reduced to ash that spread on the breeze.
"And that, children, is why you should learn runes." Dion sketched a bow, and Doomwing sat up straighter, as did the others. "When I used a seventh-order spell, I was trying to burn the target. When I used a greater rune of fire, the world itself commanded the target to burn. Notice how quickly the target burned and how there was basically no collateral damage. This is what a rune can do."
"So all of us can do that?" an elf child asked eagerly. Doomwing could see the gleam in her eyes at the thought of setting things on fire, a rarity amongst elves, most of whom seemed to dislike fire when it was used for destructive purposes.
"Yes and no. In theory, anyone of sufficient power can learn all the runes that require that level of power. However, the truth is that you will almost certainly find certain runes easier to use than others. For example, our dragon friends will almost certainly find themselves quite adept in using runes related to fire and destruction whereas our elf friends will be better with runes that govern growth, life, and nature. That doesn't mean you won't be able to use other runes, but you will have to work harder to learn and use them. But that's okay," Dion said. "Different doesn't mean bad, and the world would be boring if everyone was the same."
Mother Tree clapped her hands together. "Now, I'm sure you're all dying to give it a try." There were eager nods all around. "Spread out along the branch."
Doomwing found his own spot and readied himself. What rune would they be learning first? Perhaps Dion would teach him that rune he'd used to destroy the target, or maybe one that could alter gravity. In fact, he was pretty sure his mother used a gravity rune to drag him off his little hoard when he didn't feel like moving.
"Since your parents would be upset if any of you blew yourselves up, we will begin with a simpler rune." Dion smiled. "The basic rune for light."
Doomwing's eye twitched as Dion demonstrated. A small orb of light appeared over the god's hand before vanishing. "Now, here's what you need to do. You have to trace the rune and move your magic alongside the pattern. It's like this..."
Doomwing stared down at Mother Tree. The great tree was already burning, but even the combined efforts of the remaining dragons were not enough. She was regenerating almost as quickly as they could hurt her. What they needed was an attack with overwhelming power, one that could damage her so badly that her regeneration was completely overwhelmed. He'd already tried a twelfth-order spell. It hadn't been enough.
Deep down inside, he'd probably known that it wouldn't be.
All he had left now were runes. There was a part of him that rebelled at the thought of using them against Mother Tree. She, along with Dion, had been his first teachers in runes, and she had encouraged him to continue learning, long after others had set aside their studies in favour of honing other forms of magic. And why not? Learning and using runes became exponential more difficult at higher levels. A basic rune was easy enough, but by the time someone got to greater runes, it was like trying to draw dozens of different patterns at the same time while moving their magic in dozens of different ways too. The mental strain was enough to leave even many dragons with a headache. Stormtooth, his old friend, had never mastered anything above a lesser rune, though perhaps she might have if she hadn't died so young.
He shook his head. Now was not the time to reminisce.
His golden eyes flared, and he began to trace the components of an ancient rune. It was the equivalent of drawing thousands of different patterns simultaneously, all of them unique, and all of which had to fit together in exactly the right way and in exactly the right order. The failure of even a single component would result in the ancient rune as a whole failing, which would most likely lead to his brains leaking out of his skull. At the same time, his magic flowed outward, empowering the countless patterns in precisely the right order and with exactly the right amount of power.
His nose began to bleed, and his eyes wept bloody tears. Below him, Mother Tree's attention turned upward. She must have sensed the threat. She began to form her own ancient rune, but Doomwing was faster, and he'd started before she had. Even this wouldn't be enough to kill her, but it would hurt her enough that the others could actually deal lasting damage to her. She reached out to him, her melodic voice pleading for his understanding, for his kindness, for his mercy.
He hardened his heart.
The ancient rune completed.
And the world erupted.
A coruscating beam of raw heat and force lanced down from the summit of the heavens like the spear of one of the long-dead gods of the First Age. It was light beyond blinding, fire beyond burning. Everything it hit, it annihilated. The clouds boiled away. The air burned and blasted outward. And the soil was instantly melted into glass before disintegrating. Only Mother Tree withstood the blast, her great branches sheltering her, her stout trunk standing firm... but only for a few moments.
Before the power of the rune, even Mother Tree could not remain unscathed. Doomwing sagged, tumbling out of the air and crashing onto the ground as he devoted every scrap of power he had to fuelling the rune. The Mother Tree was determined to write her own story, but Doomwing would not let her have everything her own way. The world changed to accommodate his demands, and the beam of light intensified, a cosmic drill that could have burned through the world itself if the Mother Tree hadn't been in its path.
But not even his massive reserves could fuel the rune for long. The beam petered out, and Doomwing forced himself to rise. Mother Tree was still standing, but her leaves had all been burnt, and great chunks of ruined bark fell from her trunk. She was screaming, and he wished to all the gods that had died that he did not have to hear it. Choking on the words, he forced himself to speak.
"Attack!" he boomed. "Now! Hit her with everything you have!"
Dragon fire answered his call, and Mother Tree burned as she had never burned before.
Author's Notes
Doomwing hasn't used runes of any kind against any of his foes in the present because it would be hilarious overkill. Note that Marcus having a sword with runes on it is not a coincidence. He must have gotten it from somewhere, and he is friends with one of the few people alive who can use anything beyond a basic or lesser rune.
As for the dragons, basically, dragons belong to lineages. For example, a dragon might belong to the fire dragon lineage. With each Awakening, a dragon 'evolves' to a more powerful form that belongs to that lineage. As far as Doomwing knows, the Fourth Awakening leads to the highest form of each lineage. No dragon has ever gone further. Awakening leads to an exponential increase in power and to obvious changes in physical appearance. Before his First Awakening, Doomwing's scales were dull and not particularly nice looking. Now, however, they are resplendent, gleaming like ruby and sapphire.
For reference, a fire dragon's lineage goes something like fire dragon = flare dragon = blaze dragon = conflagration dragon = inferno dragon. Doomwing's father was a blaze dragon when he died.
Doomwing belongs to the burst dragon lineage. His lineage is produced by the combination of two separate lineages since his parents belong to different lineages. The 'final form' of a burst dragon is a nova dragon.
The reason lineages matter is because apart from being able to breathe fire, dragons of different lineages wield other forms of magic. In his mother's case, manipulation of space, time, and the physical laws is part of her lineage. In the case of Stormtooth, the weather dragon lineage can control the weather and things associated with it (e.g., lightning, wind, rain, hail, etc.).
Apart from their lineage, dragons can be divided up into hatchlings, adolescents, adults, elders, ancients, and primordials. Doomwing would be considered a primordial dragon since he has existed since the First Age. To be an elder, a dragon would have to live through the entirety of at least one Age. Since dragons get stronger as they age, older dragon tend to be more powerful, assuming they have experienced the same number of Awakenings. However, a dragon who has experienced more Awakenings can, in theory, overcome an older dragon, depending on how large (or small) the age difference is.
Last edited: Jan 29, 2024
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Threadmarks Chapter 6: The Princess And The Tree
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SecretTwelve
Jan 29, 2024
#61
Chapter 6: The Princess And The Tree
Doomwing stared at the princess. She was gawping at him like a fool. "You have twenty minutes to secure a flight-capable mount and pack whatever supplies you wish to bring to my territory."
"Twenty minutes?" Antaria blurted. "But... but I need time to prepare! I have to think about what supplies to bring, which members of staff should accompany me, and..."
Doomwing smiled and leaned forward until his massive jaws were only a few feet from her face. "You are wasting time, princess, and you won't be needing any members of staff."
"I... I won't?"
"The blood of Elerion the Valiant flows through your veins. It might have thinned over the years, but I'm hoping you're not completely useless. I intend to train you as I trained him." Doomwing pulled his head back and chuckled. "Your ancestor was quite possibly the greatest human to ever live, and he still barely survived my training. Honestly, I think it was a combination of power, determination, and sheer, bloody-minded spite that saw him through it. The first thing he did after his initial training was complete was try to stab me. It failed, but it was good to know his spirit hadn't broken."
Antaria's mouth opened and closed, and then she turned and ran from the hall, presumably to pack and find her mount. Doomwing turned his attention back to Enarion. The new king fidgeted and looked very much like he would rather be anywhere else but there. Doomwing could have simply spoken, but he wanted to know how long Enarion would last before cracking. To the man's credit, he managed to last twenty seconds before he could no longer hold himself back.
"Have I done something wrong, dragon emperor?"
"No." Doomwing settled back onto his haunches. A slab of scorched masonry tumbled loose from the broken remains of the roof, and he batted it aside. "I want to know more about the financial state of this kingdom. How does it make money? Where are its taxes invested? What needs to be improved for it to make more money? You have until the princess returns, so be concise."
Enarion took a deep breath. "It's like this..."
What followed was a surprisingly informative summary of the kingdom's financial situation. Apparently, the kingdom had originally made most of its money by selling fish drawn from the lake nearby. That lake was full of magic, probably because Doomwing had used his own power to create it and had chosen to situate over several intersecting magical currents. As a result of that magic, the fish in the lake were larger, tastier, and more nutritious than could be found elsewhere. The difference wasn't much in Doomwing's eyes, but humans were far less powerful than dragons. Even small differences could be very important to them.
Water from the lake had also been used to water nearby fields, and the crops there were similarly boosted by the lake's properties. Of course, those fields had eventually been superseded by the fields under the dryad's influence, right up until some idiot had tried to use magic they couldn't properly control or understand to boost the crop yields even further. They'd failed, and the kingdom's breadbasket was now a dust bowl where only weeds could survive.
Nevertheless, the kingdom's early kings had done a good job of defending its territory and securing important trade routes. The kingdom had access to several ports to the south, along with a number of trade routes to the west. They also made a fair bit of money transporting and then selling the extra crops that were produced in Doomwing's territory, which would explain why the previous king had been eager to seize those villages. There were also half a dozen productive mines scattered throughout the kingdom's territory that produced reasonable quantities of iron, copper, silver, and gold.
However, the true source of the kingdom's wealth lay in the wise investments that Enarion had made over the past few decades. He had used the kingdom's treasury to invest in various merchant companies, mercenary groups, and guilds. He hadn't always picked the right ones, but he had been diligent in doing his research. As a result, he had won more often than he'd lost, and the kingdom had made substantial quantities of money while acquiring influence that stretched beyond its borders. That had probably fuelled the previous king's ambition too.
Enarion's plan was to modernise the kingdom's financial system, turning it into a place where it was easy to own and operate a business, thereby attracting more merchants, mercenaries, and guilds. It was a strategy that Doomwing had seen several times in the past. The merchant kings of the Fourth Age had used it to become the richest people in the world, save for dragons like himself, with their extensive economic links to other countries making it almost impossible for anyone to attack them. Until millions of undead had shown up.
Zombies didn't much care for coin.
"You have done well with what resources you have," Doomwing said. Enarion practically collapsed in relief. "I will watch your performance closely. If you continue to do well, I may even give you some of my funds to invest."
"You honour me, dragon emperor!" Enarion stammered. "I will do my best."
Good. The man seemed to understand what it meant for a dragon to entrust their gold to someone else for investment purposes.
Antaria hurried back into the hall. "I... I'm back!" She was panting heavily. A winged unicorn trotted along beside her, and the stallion's saddlebags were already full. "Am... am I late?"
"No. You are roughly twenty seconds early." Doomwing's lips curled. "And of course you have a winged unicorn."
"What's wrong with a winged unicorn?" Antaria asked. The stallion at her side nodded his head and flared his wings in a threat display. Doomwing rolled his eyes and matched the gesture. The sudden rush of wind would have sent them all flying if he hadn't used his magic to hold them in place.
"Unicorns are uppity, judgemental jerks," Doomwing said. "Who spend far too much time worrying about the virginity of other people."
Antaria's face went a brilliant shade of red. Her dark hair was a sharp contrast to the golden blond that Elerion had sported, but her violet eyes were much the same. "What?"
"You don't know? A unicorn will only allow a virgin to ride it."
"..." Antaria's eye twitched. "I was under the impression that they would only allow those pure of heart to ride them."
"No. Pureness of heart has absolutely nothing to do with it."
"But... but how do they even know if you're a virgin?" Antaria asked. Her gaze went to her stallion who very deliberately looked away.
"Innate magic, if you can believe it, not unlike how hydras can regenerate." Doomwing scoffed. "Yes, you might be thinking, what sort of stupid innate magic is that, but the gods of the First Age could be very capricious. I should know. I met the Mother and Father of Unicorns. Both of them were pretentious, judgemental, and utterly hypocritical. Neither would let anyone ride on them unless they were a virgin, but they had no qualms about breeding like rabbits."
Antaria covered her face with her hands. "I can't believe I'm only just learning this now..."
"Blame your unicorn. He could have told you."
"What? Unicorns can talk?" Antaria grabbed the reins of her unicorn and glared into his eyes. "Is that true?"
"They can't physically talk, but they can use magic to communicate their thoughts although it's possible that your unicorn simply doesn't know how."
"I did find him when he was very young," Antaria replied. "His parents were eaten by a dragon -"
"Probably because they taunted the dragon for being a virgin or for being promiscuous. They're judgemental enough to hate both and stupid enough to think they can outrun a dragon in the air."
Antaria had the gumption to scowl at him, which was actually quite refreshing even if she wasn't nearly as good at trying to kill him with her eyes as Elerion had been. That fool had actually paid a gorgon very handsomely to see if she could teach him to use his eyes to attack people. "It was awful. He couldn't have been very old at all. I begged my father to let me keep him, and he's been with me ever since." She paused. "Wait... my maid and his stablehand both used to be able to ride him, but last week..."
"They weren't able to ride him anymore?" Doomwing chortled. "It seems that your maid and that stablehand are closer than you might think." Doomwing almost smiled. Ah. This was actually quite fun. It reminded him of the time Marcus had played a prank on Elerion by switching his usual horse out with a unicorn hidden beneath an illusion, only for the young man to ride the the unicorn without skipping a beat. The look on his face when he'd found out had been almost as funny as the look on his face when Marcus had dragged him off to a brothel. "Anyway, your unicorn will do for now, but be careful."
"Of what?"
"There will be a lot of travelling to be done in the future. You have not earned the privilege of riding on my back, so you will need your winged unicorn to carry you. Do not do anything that might jeopardise that."
Antaria made a choking sound. "I... I would never!"
"You do plan on having children someday, I imagine. Find a different mount before then."
Doomwing took to the air. "Enarion, I will be providing you with a means of contacting me soon. Do your best and know that I will be watching." He turned to Antaria. "Follow me. We have a tree to pick up."
"A tree?" Antaria squawked. "What! Slow down!" She urged her unicorn on. "Come on, Swiftstride, we have to go faster!" The unicorn grumbled and did his best to keep up, but Doomwing was no mere hatchling. There was nothing in the world except another primordial dragon who could match him in the air even if he had no intention of flying at full speed. "Wait!"
"Unicorns," Doomwing muttered. "As slow in the air as they are on the ground." He gestured, and magic washed over Swiftstride. "There. That should give you the speed to keep pace and the stamina to stay in the air for the rest of the journey."
"What kind of magic was that?" Antaria shouted as she and her unicorn fell into formation beside him.
"Two spells of the seventh-order. I could probably have gotten away with using spells of the fifth-order, but humans can't fly. It would be a hassle if you fell to your death before you had a chance to serve me."
"Uh... thanks?" Antaria pressed herself against her mount, the wind rushing past threatening to pull her hair out the bun she'd tied it into. "What's this about a tree?"
Daphne had expected the dragon to return. Dragons were many things, but they were not oath breakers. However, she had not expected him to return with a princess.
"Please, tell me you didn't kidnap the princess," Daphne said.
"Would she be riding on her own mount if I had kidnapped her? No. I merely gave her an ultimatum, and she chose to comply."
"That's the same thing as kidnapping!" Daphne cried. She sighed. "Never mind. How were you planning on transporting me?"
"I could simply use my claws to dig you out of the ground and carry you."
"Please, don't. And please don't forget that you're going to be bringing my friends along with me." The various animals who relied on her to survive had all gathered in her branches. "You said you'd protect them too."
"In that case, my magic will have to do." Doomwing lifted one claw. "Make sure that all of your friends are with you and that you have nothing else you wish to bring."
Daphne did a quick check. Yep. All of the animals were there. Strangely enough, they seemed more eager than scared. They must have realised that the blight that had ruined the once fertile fields was slowly but surely closing in. "I'm ready."
"Good."
The dragon's magic stirred, and a sphere of power surrounded her. It was large enough to completely encompass not only her tree but a decent chunk of the courtyard as well. The sphere rose up into the air, and Daphne tried to keep her expression calm as Doomwing began to fly east, the sphere floating along beside him. She managed to stay calm right up until she made the mistake of looking down. She'd never flown before, so to see how high they were and how fast they were going as the ground blurred past beneath them...
"Ah!" Daphne screamed. "Ah!"
"Stop screaming!" Doomwing growled. "You're completely safe."
And then the sphere began to spin around, twirling in circles around him and then doing loops in the sky. Somehow, despite the insane way the sphere moved, her tree remain perfectly at ease, as if they were still on the ground. Rather than comforting her, her animal friends were instead shouting encouragement and asking if the dragon could do other tricks.
"See? You're completely safe."
"Ah!"
Not far away, the princess could only wince and shake her head. "And I thought I had it bad..."
Last edited: Feb 8, 2024
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SecretTwelve
Jan 29, 2024
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Threadmarks Chapter 7: The Dragon Has A Plan
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SecretTwelve
Jan 31, 2024
#86
Chapter 7: The Dragon Has A Plan
Dawn broke as they neared the first village that Doomwing had visited. As always, his blood sang as the sun crested the horizon and began its ascent, its passage marked by rays of orange, pink, crimson, and gold. Long ago, when he had been a mere hatchling, curious but ignorant of the world and his place in it, he had asked Mother Tree how dragons were made. She had scratched his scales and stared off at a past that only a select few could remember.
"I was there when the first dragons were brought into the world. With fire and wind the Seven Gods made them. For their scales, they drew strength from the towering peaks of the world, the lonely mountains that stand unyielding in the face of time and wind and rain and sorrow. That is why your scales are strong, why you need no shelter to protect you, and why only the mightiest of weapons can do you harm. Their teeth and claws were made in the image of the spears and swords of the Seven Gods. That is why you need no weapons. Your teeth and claws are greater than any you might be given. For their wings, they called upon the sky and the boundless horizons no one may reach. That is why the skies welcome you, why no mortal creature can catch a dragon in full flight. And for their hearts, the Seven Gods took the fire of the sun and set it within their chests. That is why no dragon need fear the cold, why no dragon knows cowardice, and why no dragon will ever kneel."
Doomwing had been so very young then, and he had puffed out his chest and flared his wings. He had been proud to be a dragon, and he could not imagine a world where his kind did not fill the skies and soar unchallenged from horizon to horizon. And then the Broken God had come, and he had seen firsthand the day that all the might and splendour of the dragons had faltered. There had been so many of them, gleaming scales of every shade and colour, the beating of wings like a thousand storms rolling across the sky.
Only the oldest of them had stayed aloft in the face of the Broken God's wrath, and they had answered the laughter of the Broken God with roars of fury. They had died, all of them, those dragons who the Seven Gods had made with their own hands. But they had not died easily, and the rents in the corrupted god-metal of the Broken God's body had never healed, endless scars torn into his divine essence by those he considered beneath him. Dragons had not felled the Broken God, but the wounds they inflicted had shown he could be hurt, and what could be hurt could be killed.
Doomwing shook his head to clear away the memories. Now was not the time.
"Are we going to land at that village?" Antaria asked.
"No. But we will be landing nearby." Doomwing gestured with one claw at a place perhaps a mile and a half from the village. "There."
"Is there any particular reason?" Antaria was looking more than a bit bleary eyed. She was clearly not used to travelling for so long at such high speeds.
"Dryads require good soil and clean water to grow. However, to reach their full potential they require ready access to magic. That place is the intersection of several major currents of ambient magic. It is why the fields in this area are so fertile."
Daphne stirred. She had spent the past hour or so hunched over in a ball and refusing to even look at the ground. As a dragon, Doomwing found her reaction pathetic. However, she was a tree, and trees were not accustomed to flying. In his entire life, he had only known one dryad who had loved the skies, and she had perished at the end of the Third Age. It had been a good death, glorious and proud, worthy of even the greatest of dragons, flying headlong into the very teeth of the Third Catastrophe. But it was still a death, and he still missed her and the splendid city that had once soared through the clouds.
"So... we'll be landing soon?" Daphne smiled weakly as one of the raccoons hopped down to pat her on the head. The raccoons had actually been far more impressive. They seemed to find flight invigorating, and Doomwing was wondering what would happen if he gifted them with relics that allowed them to fly. If nothing else, it would be amusing.
"Yes. I will plant you once we land, and then we shall discuss my plans."
"Does that include your plans for me?" Antaria asked.
"Yes." Doomwing smiled toothily, and the princess quailed. "Fear not. You will not die if you can meet my expectations."
The princess blinked. "What... what if I can't meet your expectations?"
"Do your people still prefer to burn dead royalty upon funeral pyres, or do they bury them in the ground now?"
"..."
They landed soon afterward, and Doomwing motioned for Antaria and her unicorn to move aside as he dug his claws into the earth. He tore a great clod of soil up out of the ground and brought it to his face. It was good soil, rich in nutrients and magic. He let the soil tumble back to the ground and then used his magic to carve out a suitable hole to replant Daphne's tree.
"You've done this before," Daphne murmured.
"I helped kill Mother Tree, but I did not hate her. Many of her daughters required aid in the years that followed. Once I could be sure they had no intention of repeating her actions, I did what I could to help them." Doomwing lowered Daphne's tree into the spot he had prepared for her. "She helped care for me when I was a hatchling. I am not so ungrateful a wretch that I would forget that debt." He raised a claw and conjured water, infusing it with magic and allowing it to rain down on Daphne's tree and the soil around her. "How is it?"
The dryad's eyes were closed, and she gave a low hum of contentment. "The soil is much better here, and there is plenty of magic. That water was excellent too." Her gaze turned distant, and he could tell that she was reaching out for the currents of magic that flowed through the land, her roots eager and hungry. "The currents of magic are definitely impressive, but they seem..."
"Messy and clogged?" Doomwing chuckled. "That is to be expected."
Antaria walked over, and Swiftstride followed behind her. Doomwing would give the unicorn credit. He had been ready to use a spell to restore the unicorn's stamina, but the stallion had flown though the night without complaint. Now, his breathing was only just returning to normal, and sweat shone upon his skin. The gleaming white of his horn had dulled, but it would regain its lustre with some rest.
"Could you explain more about the currents of magic?" The princess made a face. "Um... I know what they are, but you must know more about them than me."
"Not bad. You are at least willing to admit your own ignorance."
"Hey!" Antaria scowled. "Please, don't call me stupid."
"I did not call you stupid. I called you ignorant." Doomwing snorted. "Ignorance is caused by a lack of knowledge and can be remedied by providing that knowledge. Stupidity, however, is caused by a lack of intelligence and is far more difficult to fix."
"Oh." Antaria blinked. "Um, thanks, then... maybe?"
"It was both a compliment and an insult." Doomwing ignored her spluttering and began his explanation. "The currents of magic that flow through the land are caused by a variety of different factors. Those are not important right now. What is important is that you can think of these currents as being similar to the arteries and veins of a body. And just like arteries and veins, they can grow clogged and dirty. When that happens, both the quantity and quality of magic that can be drawn from them is reduced. You, princess, have probably not noticed this because humans are generally unable to absorb magic from their surroundings without training. However, dryads are different. They must absorb magic from their surroundings to grow."
"Wait... are you saying that I could absorb magic from my surroundings if I had training?" Antaria asked.
"Well spotted. Yes, but we will get to that later. As it is, there is more than enough magic here for Daphne to grow, and she possesses sufficient skill and power to purify it to her standards. However, she will grow faster, thereby increasing my tribute more swiftly, if she has access to larger quantities of purer magic. That is why I will be returning to my volcano shortly. I will begin cleansing the currents of magic starting from my lair and then working through my territory until I reach this area. This should, if my estimations are correct, more than triple her rate of growth. It will likely take me a few weeks."
"You can do that?" Daphne asked. "I could purify the currents around me, but my range would be limited to a few miles at most. It would also take me years."
"Why do you think so many people have called them dragon lines throughout history? Dragons are extremely adept not only at absorbing magic from their surroundings but also at influencing the magic in their surroundings. I am a primordial dragon. My lesser kin could never hope to accomplish in centuries what I can do in weeks."
"Oh. Thank you." Daphne bowed. "It means a lot."
Doomwing leaned over and turned his head, so he could stare into her eyes. "I am doing a great deal for you, dryad. I expect great things in return."
"Eep." Daphne squeaked. "I'll do my best."
"See that you do. I will also try to find tree-folk to act as your guardians." Doomwing grumbled. "I don't know where any are, but I can probably ask Marcus... he probably knows. And if not, I can use the mirror. It'll be a hassle, but I should be able to find some... never mind." He straightened. "In the meantime, I will ensure that you are properly defended."
He tossed a dozen greater runes of protection at Daphne.
"There. There is now absolutely nothing in my territory other than me that can harm you. And if anything strong enough comes, I should be able to sense it and respond in time."
"You just used a dozen greater runes..." Daphne swallowed thickly. "It was a struggle for me to maintain two to keep the blight away and keep my animal friends fed."
"I would have used ancient runes, but as you are now, being in their presence for extended periods of time would have done permanent damage to you." Doomwing turned his attention to Antaria. "And as for you..."
"As for me?" The princess fidgeted. She was so worried about him that she barely seemed to notice the enterprising squirrel that had climbed onto her and was rummaging through her pockets in search of food. Almost without thinking, she reached down and pulled the squirrel away before tossing the rodent back to Daphne who was splitting her attention between basking in her improved living conditions and worrying at his expectations.
"The three great enemies of a ruler are weakness, ignorance, and naivety. There are others of course, but those three have, from my observation, been responsible for the downfall of many rulers. As of now, princess, you are weak and ignorant. As for your naivety? Well, we shall see about that soon enough. Fortunately, there is an easy cure for your problems. Strength and knowledge."
Antaria nodded. "I see. So you will be training me to acquire strength and knowledge."
"You will need both not only to survive but also to administer my lands as effectively as possible." Doomwing reached out with his magic. He ripped another clod of dirt out of the ground and imbued it with a small fraction of his power. The dirt quivered and then began to change, giving way to red and blue scales and wings that were slightly too large compared to the rest of the body. "Since I will be going to my volcano to begin altering the currents of magic, I will be leaving behind a shard of my power to conduct your education."
Antaria said nothing for a moment before jabbing one finger at the draconic construct he'd made. "What is that? It's... it's adorable! Look at how stubby the tail is, and the wings are too big! And look at that face! It's not scary like yours!"
Doomwing gave a low rumble. "Since you are a but a hatchling about to begin proper training, I thought it fitting that the shard I left behind take on the form I had when I was but a hatchling. But do not underestimate it. Even the sliver of my power that animates it would be sufficient to crush your kingdom."
The little dragon shook itself, and Doomwing was once again greeted by the familiar but vaguely annoying sensation of being in two bodies at once. He'd gotten up to a lot of mischief after first learning this ability although it wasn't really as useful in battle as it might seem. The absolute focus and concentration required to use ancient runes and the most powerful magics meant that splitting his consciousness between multiple bodies was usually a terrible idea.
"I will be in charge of your training," the little dragon said, and Antaria jerked back, perhaps startled at his deep, earth-shaking voice coming out of a construct that was only twelve feet long. "Do not think I shall go easy on you. If anything, this makes it easier for me to be hard on you since I do not have to worry about accidentally crushing you by stepping on you."
Antaria gulped. "So when will my training begin?"
Doomwing took to the air. "I will return once I have dealt with the currents of magic."
"As for your training," the construct said. "It begins now!"
Antaria had endured what she believed to be gruelling training since she'd been a little girl. She was a princess, so she had access to the kingdom's finest warriors and mages to tutor her. However, she was only now realising that their training had not been nearly brutal enough.
The dragon construct had broken her sword with a single stout bite within the first ten seconds of the fight starting. It had broken her arm a moment later, and she had used what little healing magic she knew in a desperate attempt to make the limb useable again. The construct had apparently taken that personally, and it had spent the past ten minutes pummelling her without mercy. She was fairly sure one of her legs was broken, and if she didn't have at least a few broken ribs, she would be shocked.
Daphne was watching the entire thing in silent horror but had made no move to intervene, perhaps worried that she might have to join in as well. Her animal friends, though, were cheering Antaria on although she had a sneaking suspicion that the squirrels were using nuts to bet on how much longer she would last. Those little bastards...
A final blow thumped into her, and she had a wonderful view of the sky before gravity decided to reintroduce itself and she landed in a broken heap.
"Hmmm..." Doomwing's voice came through the construct, utterly at odds with its adorable appearance. No. It wasn't adorable anymore. It was all a lie, a way of tricking her into thinking the construct was harmless, so it could mangle her. "You aren't completely hopeless. I was expecting you to plead for mercy several minutes ago."
Antaria glared at him balefully. "Would you have given it?"
"No. But the fact you didn't ask speaks well of you." The construct padded over and gave her a poke in the stomach with its stubby tail. "Even so, I have learned a lot from this fight. You take after your ancestor in some important ways."
"I do?" Antaria tried to sit up and then thought better of it. "How?"
"Elerion was actually quite bad at magic," Doomwing said. "In fact, he really only excelled at one type of magic."
"Attack magic?" Antaria really hoped it was attack magic. The idea of throwing lightning or heaving fire at her enemies was certainly tempting, and if she happened to blow this construct into powder that was simply a coincidence.
"No. He was awful at attack magic to the point I thought he was pretending to be that bad since I had a hard time believing anyone could be so hopeless at it." Doomwing chuckled. "The magic he excelled at was what many termed enhancement or amplification magic. In essence, he took the innate qualities of things and enhanced or amplified them."
"That sounds... interesting."
She must not have done a good job of hiding her dismay because Doomwing laughed. "In many ways, it is quite boring. He could barely muster a fireball, and throwing lightning was more likely to make his opponents hair stick up than actually electrocute them. But he could make himself orders of magnitude stronger and faster than a normal man, and he could take a blade of steel and carve through solid rock like it was paper."
Antaria's eyes widened. "That doesn't sound too bad, actually." She paused. "And it might explain why I've struggled to learn any attack magic but have always been okay with the spells for hastening movement and boosting strength."
"Those spells are pathetic. I will be teaching you better spells along with whatever runes you can learn."
This time, Antaria did sit up. "Runes? Like what you used on Daphne?"
"No. You lack the power to use even a single one of those runes. But even the least of runes will still be more effective than whatever magic you already know." Doomwing's construct leaned over and nudged her with its head. "But we have a lot of work to do first, particularly with regards to your magical reserves."
"I think I have decently large magical reserves," Antaria replied. "My tutors always said so."
"Your tutors knew nothing." Doomwing had the construct jab her in the stomach with its claw. Thankfully, it was the blunt side of the claw, or her guts would have spilled onto the ground. "Hmm... you're tolerating the pain from your broken bones quite well."
Antaria made a face. She had been doing her very best to keep movement to a minimum until sitting up. Now, though, she was starting to get woozy. "If you could at least help me with that..."
Magic washed over her. However, instead of being fully healed, her body was instead filled with a series of aches and pains, albeit less severe than they had been.
"Your body will not improve if I heal you completely," Doomwing said. "Leaving a certain portion of your injuries intact will help you grow stronger and push your body to adapt. Surely, you are familiar with using magic to strengthen your body. Doing that while you are injured will push your body to strengthen itself."
Antaria remained silent. She had heard of the technique, and she could even use it a bit, but what he had described didn't seem to match her experience.
The flat stare of the construct was telling. "Show me your version of the technique." She did, and the construct somehow managed to snort. "No wonder you're so weak. What you are doing is incorrect. Simply surging magic into the part of your body you want to strengthen is a good way to rupture your organs and ruin the channels that carry magic through your body. It is, admittedly, easier to do and reasonably effective at lower levels, but it is not what you will be doing from now on."
Antaria squeaked as raw power flooded through her veins. She was vaguely aware of a dull roar filling her ears and her vision tunnelling and then going white before awareness returned, and she felt currents of power flowing back and forth through her body.
"There," Doomwing said. "Can you feel that?"
She nodded slowly. "I... I can."
"Grasp that feeling. Carve it into your memory." That torrent of power that had overwhelmed her was gentler now, moving her own magic back and forth through her body in rhythmic cycles. "Keep your attention on that feeling." Slowly, the power withdrew, and her magic began to fall still. "Do not let your magic stop moving. Copy what you felt before. Circulate your magic through your body."
Antaria didn't bother to question him. Instead, she grasped onto the reins of her magic and began to push it around as best she could. It was hard - like trying to wade through mud - and the motion felt so clumsy and weak compared to what she'd experienced, but her magic began to move, awkwardly mirroring what she'd felt before. "What... what did you do to me?"
"For those who have never circulated their magic before, the very idea of it can seem foreign. However, it is something that naturally occurs for creatures like dragons and dryads who frequently absorb magic from their surroundings. Humans, though, are adaptable creatures. Once you are shown how to do it, the more talented amongst you can manage to do it on their own. Congratulations." Doomwing's voice was dry. "You are not completely hopeless."
"What... what does this do?" Antaria asked. "It feels... good." And it did. The aches and pains in her body were being soothed, and her mind no longer felt dull and fuzzy.
"Circulating your magic in this manner serves several purposes. The most immediate purpose is that it quickens healing while promoting growth and development. This will allow you to handle training that would kill normal people."
"What... what if I hadn't been able to do it?" Antaria asked although she had a sneaking suspicion of what he would say.
"It is fortunate that you were able to learn it so quickly." Doomwing's construct paced around her in a slow circle. "The second reason is going to become apparent right about... now."
Antaria gasped and then paled as a wave of exhaustion swept over her. She was suddenly cold, and her limbs began to tremble. "What's happening?"
"Magical exhaustion. When you circulate your magic like this, it is consumed to heal your injuries, improve your body, and so on. Because your reserves of magic are so small, it's hardly surprising that you've already exhausted them." The construct shrugged. "Of course, magical exhaustion of this level is several times worse than regular magical exhaustion, so you will likely fall into a coma or die in the next ten minutes."
"What?" Antaria shrieked. "Magical exhaustion isn't supposed to do that!"
"Magical exhaustion caused by spell usage usually occurs before your reserves can truly run dry. Circulating your magic allows you to completely empty them if you're not careful."
"Why... why didn't you warn me?" Antaria was seeing double now, and she was vaguely aware of several squirrels exchanging nuts.
"Because Elerion always learnt best when he was on the verge of death, and I want to see if you are the same." Doomwing chortled. "And because when your reserves are almost completely empty, it becomes easier for you to feel and absorb the magic around you."
"What?"
"Humans do not naturally absorb significant quantities of magic from their surroundings. It's just how you are. But they can learn to do that. What you need to do is to reach out with your senses. Focus on feeling the magic around you. You're probably feeling cold right now. Ambient magic will feel warm. You need to focus on that warmth. Imagine it flowing into you. Think of sitting in front of a camp fire and warming your hands. Imagine that heat and energy filling you like water emptying from a jug into your cup."
Antaria tried to do what he said. She really did. But she couldn't feel anything except the cold. She was shivering now, and she was certain her lips were blue. A few of the raccoons looked like they wanted to help her, but the construct stretched one wing out to bar their path.
"Do not interfere," Doomwing said. "And do not say a word, Daphne. I have told her enough. If she cannot grasp it now, then she may never be able to do so. This is not something to be thought about and intellectualised. It is to be experience and felt."
Antaria fell onto her back. The edges of her vision began to darken. She tried to get up, but her limbs refused to obey. She felt heavy and light at the same time. Was she dying?
"Open your mind," Doomwing's voice seemed to come from far away. "Stop trying to see the world with your pitiful human eyes. Magic does not come from flesh and bone. It comes from the soul, and it is with your soul that you must feel the world around you."
Her soul? Antaria became aware of something inside herself, a small, flickering, faltering light. It was like a candle in the long and hungry dark, but it was her candle, her light. Her eyes were closed, but she saw it clearly. And then, as the darkness closed in on her, she saw more candles in the dark. One by one they appeared, so faint she was only sure they existed because of the absolute darkness that surrounded them. But then she saw another light, brighter, not a candle but a campfire. Were these souls? Who did they belong to? What was... her attention went north, and there she saw a star, blinding and bright.
And then, from the darkness, came rivers of light and flame, currents of power born of the land and all the things above, below, and within it. Several of those rivers intersected beneath her, and a shimmering mist of magic rose up. She reached for it desperately, greedily, clawing at it with frantic hands and trying to inhale it with deep breaths.
So much of it escaped her. So much of it simply passed through her. But she caught some of it, and it flowed into her, rushing through her body in burning rivers of power that turned her veins to fire and threatened to set her soul ablaze.
"Circulate it through your body," Doomwing growled. "You must circulate it through your body to purify it before absorbing it into your reserves. Otherwise, you will injure yourself."
"It hurts..." Antaria said. "It burns."
"You can hurt and burn, or you can embrace the cold of death. Those are your choices."
So Antaria burned, and she circulated the magic she'd pulled from her surroundings through her body as best she could. Gradually, ever so gradually, it changed, and after a while, it settled deep inside her, flowing into the pool of power she recognised as the source of her magic. The pool was all but empty, but it filled rapidly until she felt a stretching sensation, like a muscle being pulled taut.
"Enough," Doomwing said. "Stop absorbing magic. Now."
Antaria cut off her connection to the magic around her. If anything, it was easier to cut it off than to absorb it. Then she opened her eyes. Daphne was wringing her hands nearby, a healing spell flickering in and out of existence. Doomwing's construct simply stared down at her.
"Acceptable," he said.
Antaria made a choking sound and did the first thing that came to mind. She kicked the construct in the side with all the strength that could muster.
"Ah!" Antaria wailed. "My leg."
"Congratulations," Doomwing drawled. "You broke your leg. Let this be a lesson to you. Always determine the durability of your foe before kicking them." The construct took a step back, and healing magic washed over the broken limb. "In recognition of your efforts, I will heal your injury instead of making you fix it yourself."
"How kind," Antaria said.
"I am known as a generous soul," Doomwing replied. "Now, tell me, do you sense any changes in the size of your magical reserves?"
Antaria peered back inside herself and gasped. "They're... they're bigger!"
"Yes. This is the other reason that you must learn how to circulate magic and how to absorb it from your surroundings. Humans can produce magic naturally. This magic exerts a sort of 'pressure' on their reserves, expanding them over time. However, humans actually have reserves that are quite flexible. Pressure that would cause an elf's magical reserves to explode and kill them will not kill a human. Instead, a human's reserves will grow in response to that pressure."
"But then... how do elves have so much more magic than humans?" Antaria asked.
"Elves live far longer than humans, so even if their reserves grow more slowly, they can eventually grow much larger. Humans can, with the right training, increase their reserves quite rapidly in comparison to other species although, by the time they reach their peak, they will generally have smaller reserves than the strongest elves. But there are exceptions. Elerion's reserves of magic were enormous even by elven standards, which allowed him to do things with his magic and runes that other humans could only have dreamed of."
"Then all of this training..."
"We will grow your reserves of magic. That in turn will allow us to push your physical training to inhuman levels while also allowing you to perform increasingly powerful magic." Doomwing gave rumble of amusement. "It will, of course, be agonising, and the pain you have experienced today will be nothing compared to the agony you will feel while learning more advanced techniques." He paused. "Knowing that, do you wish to quit? This is your one and only chance."
Antaria got to her feet and then raised her foot to kick the construct again before thinking better off it. Instead, she waved her hand at Daphne, and the dryad handed her a tree branch. Taking the branch she brought it down on the construct with all the strength she could muster.
"What makes you think I'm going to quit!"
Doomwing bit back a smile as he continued his journey northward back to his volcano. Antaria was doing her best to pummel his construct with a tree branch and her newly enhanced strength and was accomplishing absolutely nothing.
Even so, he wasn't disappointed.
She was actually doing slightly better than Elerion. The boy - and he had been a boy at the time - had kicked him again when Doomwing had asked that question, and all he'd done was break his leg for the third time in a single afternoon. The look in Antaria's eyes right now was exactly the same as the one that had been in Elerion's. It hadn't been about learning or honour or anything like that. No. They had both wanted to keep going just so they could spite him.
Perfect.
Last edited: Jan 31, 2024
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Threadmarks Chapter 8: The Dragon Dreams
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SecretTwelve
Feb 1, 2024
#102
Chapter 8: The Dragon Dreams
Doomwing had never been especially gifted in the art of dream walking. Personal interest and then necessity had pushed him toward more practical applications. However, the Sixth Age had revived his interest in the field, if only so he could protect himself from the Sixth Catastrophe. Even so, he had only ever become adept enough to defend himself. He had never, even for a moment, considered confronting Kagami in the ever-shifting and turbulent realm that reflected both their dreams and the collective dreams of everyone else with a soul. He was powerful, yes, and perhaps a little arrogant as befitted a primordial dragon, but he was not stupid or suicidal.
For all his might, in that realm, Kagami would have bested him, and that was before she had become the Sixth Catastrophe. After her... ascension, she would have slaughtered him with the same ease he would have shown in slaying some uppity drake. Even Marcus, so much more adept in battles of the mind and memory, had been forced to admit that all he could have done against her was stall for time. Knowing that he could never win a confrontation of that kind, Doomwing had focused his efforts on defence. His crowning achievement was discovering an ancient rune that could drag both him and his opponent out of the dreaming lands and back into the physical world. That rune had saved his life in the final battle and had allowed them to triumph although they had all paid heavily for the victory.
Now, however, he had a use for dream walking. Antaria had proven she wasn't completely hopeless, so he wished to see how far he could push her. She had the right temperament for physical and magical training, so it was now a question of honing her mind. The issue was the number of hours in the day. Until she became more adept at absorbing magic from her surroundings and circulating it through her body, she would require the same amount of sleep as a regular person. Unfortunately, the time she spent sleeping could not be used for anything else.
That simply wouldn't do.
If he could learn how to dream walk properly, he would be able to instruct her while she slept. Time did not flow at the same speed in the world of dreams, so he could cram an entire's day's worth of learning into her head while only occupying perhaps an hour or two of her sleeping time in the physical world. She would still be able to get enough rest, and he would be able to see if she was capable of learning anything apart from how to stab people or blast them with magic.
The issue was actually learning how to dream walk. There were people he could seek out. One of his fellow primordial dragons, Dreamsong, was a muse dragon. She could weave illusions so convincing that they could take on solid form and substance, making real the things she imagined, if only for a moment. She could also enter the dreams of others and bend the very fabric of the dreaming lands to her will. Unfortunately, they were no longer on speaking terms.
Kagami might have betrayed her and used her teachings to become the Sixth Catastrophe, but Dreamsong had still loved her like a daughter. Even after witnessing the atrocities Kagami had committed, Dreamsong had never been able to raise a hand against her, and she had never forgiven Doomwing for killing her. Oh, Dreamsong understood on an intellectual level that Doomwing had done the right thing, but the heart was not bound by logic, and Dreamsong's heart had always been softer than her scales.
After the disaster of the Fifth Catastrophe, many of the beast people of the world had scattered and hidden themselves from the vengeful wrath of those they had wronged. The kitsune had been all but wiped out and had only found safety by hiding in a land halfway between the physical world and the dreaming lands. There, they had met Dreamsong, and she had taken them under her wing. Kagami had been her most favoured student, and Dreamsong had been so pleased to see the relationship between Elerion and Kagami blossom into more than friendship. Elerion had no longer been a young man then, but what did age matter to Kagami when kitsune could live for millennia if they were powerful enough?
And Kagami had been strong, far stronger than any kitsune Doomwing had met before or since.
Of course, things had fallen apart in the end. Kagami had fallen prey to her own worst fears and had become the very monster that her people had so often been accused of being. And Dreamsong had retreated back into the dreaming lands with what remained of the kitsune, her attention focused solely on the child that Kagami had left behind, the kitsune girl who was also Elerion's last child.
What a mess.
But before Kagami had gone mad, she had given Doomwing a gift. After all, they had been friends. It was a spell book, one that contained a number of powerful spells related to dream walking. He had accepted it happily back then but had never had the time to learn its contents. After she had become the Sixth Catastrophe, he had been wary of opening the book, lest the contents turn out to be a trap. However, with Kagami long dead and his injuries mostly healed, he was confident that he could open the book without putting himself in danger. If it turned out to be a trap, he would simply destroy the thing. If, however, it turned out to be a genuine gift, the spells within would solve his problems.
Landing on the shores of the lake where he liked to nap, Doomwing called the book to him. It was a small thing, sized for a person instead of a dragon, but his powers were more than up to the task of handling it. A minute burst of power unlocked the seal that held it shut, and he readied ancient runes for protection, destruction, and returning himself to the physical world. He did not fully commit to them - even he could not use three ancient runes of this calibre lightly - but their partially completed forms would allow him to act in an instant if the book turned out to be dangerous.
The book opened, and he stared at the first page.
It was a simple message written in Kagame's familiar hand.
"To Doomwing," he murmured, reading the message aloud. "You're terrible at dream walking, so I decided to put a few spells you might find useful in this book. I would have included the greater runes or ancient runes I know, but Dreamsong said you suck too much to actually perceive those properly. I personally think she might have been a bit too harsh, but she has known you longer than I have. I also remember the last time you tried to interrogate someone using telepathy. You made their head explode. If you do ever get around to learning these spells, please find someone to practice them on, preferably someone you wouldn't mind killing because I do not want you accidentally blowing up the head of someone important and then blaming me. With much respect and a smidgen of affection, Kagami."
His lips twitched, and he began to laugh. "You always did have a sharp tongue." He used his power to flip through the book. No trap was sprung, and the greater runes of scrying he used to examine the book intently detected no hidden spells or concealed runes. It was a spell book, albeit an extremely well made one. For rather than describing the spells and the way his magic had to be controlled to use them, it contained memories from Kagami that showed her demonstrating and explaining each spell. "It seems you were still yourself when you gave this to me," Doomwing mused. "I should share this with Marcus the next time I see him."
Doomwing settled down to begin learning. With this sort of spell book, it shouldn't take him more than a day or two to learn the spells. The most difficult of them was a twelfth-order spell, but that was well within his abilities. The main issue would be practicing on living targets. Hmm... he could use the mirror to find contact Enarion. There were bound to be a few rebellious idiots who nobody would miss.
Antaria was doing her best impression of a mudskipper as she dragged her exhausted body back toward the house that Doomwing's construct had created for her next to Daphne's tree. It was a simple thing made of earth that he had shaped with his magic. The rooms inside were basic and filled only with the supplies that she'd brought with her. The bed was slightly better. After throwing herself on Daphne's mercy, she had convinced the dryad to make a bed for her out of living wood, which was far more comfortable than the stone bed that Doomwing had originally made, especially once Antaria had improvised a mattress stuffed with the feathers of some giant bird... thing that Doomwing had told her to kill.
Well, it was more like Doomwing had told her they were going for a training run only for his construct to mysteriously disappear right as a giant bird monster had swooped down to attack her. Antaria had only been training with Doomwing for a few days, but she had already noticed massive improvements in her strength, speed, and endurance. What should have been a laborious fight had ended with her bludgeoning the beast to death before immediately focusing on whether or not it would taste good because Doomwing had made it very clear that she would not be allowed to rely solely on Daphne to provide food for her.
No.
He wanted her to hunt her own food and thereby put her lessons to good use. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was using his construct to kidnap monsters to throw at her, but she had no proof, and he certainly wasn't going to admit it. On the upside, the bird had proven to be quite delicious, and the magic that still flowed through its flesh had only added to the taste and the benefits. Humans might not have the knack for absorbing the strengths of those they ate that dragons did, but they could still benefit from consuming the flesh of monsters if that flesh was cooked properly and the human had received the right training.
It turned out that the reason so many people died after eating monster flesh was because their bodies didn't know how to handle the sudden surge in magic that came from the flesh. Without the ability to circulate and purify that magic, that power would rupture the channels that carried magic through the body, resulting in swift, horrible death. Of course, Doomwing had only told her that after she'd started eating, resulting in another frantic session of magic circulation. He had later revealed that he had several spells capable of making her vomit if she had proven unable to circulate her magic well enough, but that had only increased her ire. One of these days...
Now, though, with her training for the day complete, she dragged herself toward her house. Daphne had been told to instruct her on the intricacies of farming, and the dryad had proven to be incredibly knowledgeable on the subject. Antaria had never given much thought to farming, but the subject was oddly fascinating, and not just in terms of how food was grown but also in how the logistics of transporting it effectively could make or break a kingdom. It helped that Daphne's lessons didn't feature potential death if she didn't learn fast enough, but perhaps helping the nearby villages improve would not be as onerous an ordeal as she had thought.
A panicked neigh from overhead drew her attention. After sitting the first day out, her loyal unicorn Swiftstride had been subjected to his own training. Apparently, once Doomwing's construct tired of beating her up, he was happy to beat the stallion up instead. Swiftstride's training was focused on improving his speed, agility, and endurance in the air. It involved flying an elaborate course through the sky, complete with burning rings, summoned creatures to harry him, and a twelve-feet-long draconic construct who delighted in firing bolts of lightning whenever the unicorn wasn't performing as well as expected.
Swiftstride had attempted to rebel precisely once. At which point, Doomwing's construct had summoned a lightning elemental and ordered the creature to chase Swiftstride around until he'd practically fallen out of the sky in exhaustion. Doomwing had labelled his performance worthy of a flying donkey and had upped the intensity even more. Under normal circumstances, Antaria would have done her best to help her loyal mount. Now, though, she saw the time Doomwing focused on Swiftstride as time he wasn't focused on her. But once she and her unicorn had both improved, they could get revenge together.
"Do you want any help?" Daphne asked. The dryad looked down at Antaria, a raccoon clinging onto her back like a monkey.
"Don't." Antaria continued to crawl toward her house. "If you help me, he'll only add extra tasks to my training to make up for it."
"If you're sure." Daphne tilted her head to the side. "But if you want, I can start the lesson now while you're still crawling back."
"That would be fine, thanks."
That night, Antaria crawled into bed. She missed the baths she got to take in the palace, baths with hot water, maids to attend her, and all the cosmetic luxuries she could dream of. Her current bath consisted of taking a dip in a nearby stream after putting up several third-order spells to warn her about intruders and observers. She had neglected to put those up on the first night, and Doomwing had responded by herding several huge wild boars toward her. She'd been utterly exhausted at the time, but she'd still managed to kill them, albeit she'd been forced to drown the last one since she'd lost her sword at some point in the fight, and her knuckles had hurt from punching one of them to death. Oh well. The boar meat had tasted decent enough.
Circulating her magic and absorbing magic from her surroundings as she'd been taught, Antaria felt herself slip into an almost meditative trance. She was still better at circulating magic and absorbing magic when she wasn't doing anything else but having to fight random monsters on a daily basis was rapidly improving her ability to do both under pressure. Sighing, she let sleep claim her.
A dream of green fields and blue skies awaited her, a place free from dragons who confused attempted murder for teaching, a place with hot springs, comfortable beds, and food prepared by professional chefs instead of charred over a campfire while the aforementioned dragon tried to remember recipes from centuries ago.
"Get up."
She blinked. Why was Doomwing's construct in her dream. "No."
The construct padded over and then yanked her up onto her feet. To her horror a chair appeared beneath her, and the rolling fields and open skies gave way to a large library.
"You spend too much of your time sleeping and slacking off. From now on, you will spend at least some of that time learning."
A book appeared on the table in front of her and words began to appear in the air behind Doomwing.
"Today, we will be discussing logistics and why it matters. I will not have some fool ruling in my name. Elerion was a farmer's son, and he still managed to learn enough to be a great king. You are a princess. Assuming your education hasn't been completely awful, I expect you to do better."
Antaria stifled the urge to scream.
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Threadmarks Chapter 9: The Princess Is Rewarded
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SecretTwelve
Feb 2, 2024
#112
Chapter 9: The Princess Is Rewarded
Antaria flopped onto her back and stared up at the sky. She'd grown quite accustomed to this over the past few weeks. Each day had bled into the next, an endless cycle of training until she collapsed from exhaustion followed by learning in her dreams at night. Rather than continue to more advanced techniques, Doomwing had insisted on ruthlessly honing her ability to absorb magic from her surroundings and then circulate it through her body.
It was not enough that she could perform those techniques while meditating. No. He would not be satisfied until performing those techniques was as easy and instinctive as breathing. He'd even gone so far as to smuggle multiple monsters into her house at night while she was sleeping to test if she had remembered to put up defensive and security magic and to see if she could perform those techniques when she'd just woken up and while being attacked by the aforementioned monsters.
She had hurled the severed head of one of those monsters - some kind of giant rat thing with glowing fangs - at his construct with all the strength she could muster. To her disgust, he'd disintegrated it with a single spell before admonishing her on her technique. If she was going to throw the severed head of a giant rat at him with the intent to kill, then there was a proper way to do that... a proper way that Elerion had apparently devised centuries ago because, of course, he had.
Part of her was really beginning to dislike her ancient ancestor. That man seemed to have been good at just about everything. At the same time, however, Antaria felt a certain sense of kinship with him that went beyond whatever distant blood ties they shared. Just like her, he had been subjected to the murderous farce that Doomwing liked to call training, and just like her his attempts to get back at the dragon had failed miserably. If only Doomwing would share more of what Elerion had tried. At least that way she'd know what not to do when trying to get back at him.
"Your performance has been acceptable," Doomwing said as his construct stopped beside her. "As a reward for your hard work, I will be teaching you a basic rune."
Antaria sat up quickly. "You will?" she asked excitedly before realising that this had to be some kind of trap. "What's the catch? Am I going to explode if I get it wrong?"
"No." Doomwing's construct smiled thinly. "But you may experience severe brain damage if you fail to learn it."
"..." Antaria took a deep, deep breath. "I just knew it was going to be something like that. Okay. Fine. What rune are you going to teach me?"
"It is one of the basic runes for strength." Doomwing motioned for her to stand, and she hurried to her feet. She had learned the hard way that dawdling would only see her workload increased even further. "It is the first basic rune that I will be teaching you and arguably the most important."
"Why is that?" Antaria asked.
"The three types of basic runes that are most commonly used in battle are runes associated with strength, speed, and endurance. However, the rune for strength is almost always learned first. Why do you think that is?"
Antaria pursed her lips. "Because being stronger is useful in combat." Doomwing's construct gave her a stare so flat it would have levelled a mountain. "Hey! It's not like I know a lot about runes!"
"What you need to understand is that runes are not like the pathetic magic you have learned so far. Normal magic exerts your will upon the world. The bigger the change, the more power it will require. Moreover, the world is naturally resistant to exterior change. The more you try to change things, the more the world will resist. That is why permanently changing your body with a regular spell is pretty much impossible. When you use a normal spell to strengthen yourself, you are using your power to increase your strength. When you use a rune to increase your strength, then you become stronger, at least for a while."
"Isn't that the same thing?" Antaria asked.
"No." Doomwing's construct shook its head. "Your power is limited and weak, so your ability to enhance your strength is likewise limited and weak. Moreover, regular spells that enhance your strength will seldom last long and will take a terrible toll on your body if overused. A basic rune for strength will be far more effective, will last far longer, and will not ruin your body from repeated usage, provided you are using the right rune and can form it correctly."
Antaria's eyes narrowed. "That sound like all upside."
"Only if you can do it right. If you do it wrong, you will either give yourself brain damage or suffer a number of other consequences, all of which are highly unpleasant. A rune asks the world to do something, and the world itself will make the changes you desire. This means runes are both incredibly powerful and also capable of tremendous self-injury if not used or formed properly. The reason you should learn a basic rune for strength first is because knowing it will not only increase your strength in multiple ways but will also provide with some level of protection should you make a mistake with other basic runes."
"That makes sense." Antaria nodded. "So... how do I learn this rune?"
"Watch." The construct took a step away from her, and then a symbol formed in the air in front of it.
Antaria squinted at the symbol in a bid to get a proper look at it. However, it was hazy and indistinct, almost like looking at a cloud of steam and -
"Get up."
Antaria realised she was on her back again. She opened her eyes and then reached up to touch her face. There was blood on her face.
"You are bleeding from your eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. However, none of your injuries are fatal, and you do not appear to have brain damage. I will draw the rune again. Watch closely and try not to pass out again."
She staggered back to her feet and fought the urge to empty her stomach. Oh, wait, she'd already done that earlier today during training. "Okay. I'll get it this time."
The construct drew the rune out again and... and this time she saw it. It was blurry at first, but the longer she stared at it, the clearer it became. It was... difficult to describe, a pattern that defied everything she knew about geometry logic, yet it was right there, as clear to her now as the sun in the sky. Her eyes began to sting, but she forced herself to keep looking until the image of the rune was burned into her mind.
"I... I think I've got it," she said.
"Good." Doomwing's voice carried a faint hint of approval. "Not bad. You only passed out once, and none of your injuries were serious enough to require healing magic. Now, draw the rune using your soul."
"..." Antaria's jaw dropped. "Draw it with my soul? What does that even mean?"
"Ah. Right." Doomwing's construct shrugged. "Only someone with a soul can use runes, and the runes must be drawn with the soul. Yes, most people will make gestures while drawing it, but with sufficient practice, those gestures are not required. Think of your soul as a hand holding a paintbrush and your magic as the paint."
"I'm not sure that helps." Antaria could feel a headache coming on. She sincerely hoped it wasn't due to brain damage. "Look... just... how do I use my soul to do stuff?"
"You must have noticed that your body naturally produces magic within you. It most likely appears as something similar to a flame growing within your body even when you aren't absorbing magic from outside sources. The source of that flame is your soul. Imagine your soul twisting that flame into the shape of the rune and then trace that shape into the air."
"But that shape doesn't make sense," Antaria replied. "It's..." She didn't have the words for it. It was as if space itself couldn't fit the rune, yet there it was.
"Just do it," Doomwing insisted. "And you will understand."
Antaria's jaw clenched. That was easy for him to say. But fine. She could do it!
Or not.
Seven times she tried to make the rune according to his instructions, and seven times she failed. But on her eighth attempt, she succeeded. Eyes wide, she stared in confused fascination at the shape shimmering in the air in front of her.
Strength.
The word echoed through her soul as much as her ears. That was what the rune meant. Strength.
"Interesting. I thought it would take you a little longer." Doomwing chuckled. "Now, for the next step. You have made the rune. Do it again but instead of simply tracing it in the air, think of what you would like to affect with it. Aim for yourself."
Antaria swallowed thickly. She could feel the raw power in the rune, and now she'd be using it on herself. "Is this dangerous?"
"What do you think?"
"Ah. Right. I don't know why I asked." She took a deep breath. "If I blow my arms and legs off, please put them back on." She drew the rune again and thought of how much she wanted it to affect her. "Here goes... oh."
It was... it was...
Awesome.
Only a moment ago, she'd felt utterly exhausted. Now? She felt strong, strong in a way she never had been before. Her fists clenched, and she could feel the power raging through her. She wasn't just stronger. She was... more everything in a way that was difficult to put into words. She felt like she could turn a boulder into powder with a single punch. She felt like she could swing a sword with the strength to carve through a tower. She felt like the whole world could turn against her and she'd be able to hold her ground.
It was amazing.
"Not bad." Doomwing's construct grabbed hold of a nearby boulder and then threw it at her. "Catch!"
"Ah!" Antaria shrieked. The boulder was moving too fast for her to dodge. Instead, she threw up her arms and fell into a defensive stance.
And the boulder shattered against her.
"I see... you really do share Elerion's knack for runes devoted to enhancement."
Antaria stared at the broken bits of boulder on the ground around her. Her eyes gleamed, and she felt the sudden urge to kick the construct again. Surely, this time she could -
"Don't even think about it. You'd need at least a lesser rune of strength before you could kick this construct and not break your leg."
"Damn it," she muttered.
"The rune will last for a while. We will now train so that you can get used to your increased strength. Once the rune wears off, you will cast it again." Doomwing's construct loped toward her. "Now that you are a little tougher, I can also increase the strength of my own blows. Prepare yourself."
"Oh... bother."
"Do you want to know why I haven't introduced you to the villagers yet?" Doomwing asked.
Antaria glared at him. Even with the rune in effect, she was still no match for his construct. "Why?"
"It was leadership that allowed Elerion to truly unify his kingdoms and usher in an age of unrivalled prosperity, but it was strength that made those kingdoms kneel to him in the first place. He became so powerful that the very idea of opposing him didn't even cross the minds of the rulers of those kingdoms. They took one look at him and realised that they could either serve him or die. He didn't even have to say it. They knew." Doomwing's construct bared its teeth. "If you were to invoke my name and power, there is not a single person in my territory who would oppose you. But is that how you want to rule?"
Antaria shook her head. "I want to be recognised for my own abilities."
"Yes. And for that to happen, you need to make the right impression. I have told the villagers to avoid this place until I feel you are ready."
"And when will I be ready?"
"You will be ready when you have the sort of power that makes it completely logical for them to kneel before you and obey, even without me telling them to do so. They will look at you, see what sort of person you are, and realise that obeying is the most natural and sensible thing in the world to do."
Antaria nodded slowly. "And when will that be?"
"When you have developed sufficient mastery of the three basic runes that I mentioned." Doomwing's construct picked up a stick. "So far, you have been using the basic rune of strength to enhance yourself. Did you know you can use it on other things too?" He used the rune and then swung the stick at the ground. The ground exploded from the impact, and Antaria stared in disbelief at the crater that had been left behind. "You can make yourself stronger, and you can make the stick stronger." Despite the force of the impact, the stick hadn't so much as cracked. "What do you think would happen if you swung a sword like that?"
Antaria could imagine it. She immediately reached for her sword, but Doomwing tossed the stick at her.
"Practice with the stick first. If you get it wrong, you'll shatter the stick, which is fine. We've got a dryad, so we're not going to run out of sticks. However, you only have a single sword." His construct's eyes gleamed. "And who's to say you can't use another rune on yourself and your weapon. Imagine using the runes for strength and speed on yourself and on your sword. Who knows what you'll be able to do then?"
Antaria had to fight the urge to drool.
She could see it now. Impossibly swift strikes cleaving through solid rock like it was paper. Dozens of enemies defeated in an impossibly swift whirlwind of steel as her blows either cleaved through her foes with ease or sent them flying through the air like rag dolls. If she had possessed power like that before, she wouldn't have needed an elite strike force to depose her father. She could have cut her way through the royal guards on her own before dealing with him personally. She might even be able to smash Doomwing's construct too!
"Hah!" Antaria threw her head back and laughed as she tightened her hold on the stick and began to weave the rune around it. "Hahahaha!"
Doomwing watched her cackle madly and almost smiled. There was nothing quite like watching someone grasp the implications of runes for the very first time. The fact that she was clearly imagining breaking his construct into tiny pieces was fine. It meant she was motivated to learn.
Daphne was enjoying a pleasant dream about spring rains and blooming flowers when her surroundings changed to resemble a library. Doomwing was there.
"Wait!" Daphne cringed and backed away. "I've been working hard just like you told me!"
"I am not in your dreams to punish you," Doomwing replied. A book appeared in front of her. "I have almost completed my purification and expansion of the currents of magic that flow through my territory. However, it occurred to me that since you now serve me, there is no reason why more exotic plants cannot be grown in my lands." He nodded at the book. "Look through that book and tell me which ones you think will be able to grow in my territory with your aid."
Daphne opened the book. It was a botanical treatise that detailed a great many different plants. Some she was familiar with, but others she had only ever seen in the fleeting, disorganised memories she had received from Mother Tree. And there were even others she'd never heard of before, but the book provided detailed descriptions of not only their appearance but also their abilities and what conditions were best for them.
Quite a few of the plants had magical properties, but others were simply exotic crops that did not normally grow in this part of the world. A greedy voice inside her clamoured at the thought of being able to nurture these plants with her power. To see them grow in endless fields all around her or perhaps in guarded groves... what self-respecting dryad wouldn't want that?
"How many of them can you get?" Daphne asked.
"I will be leaving soon to acquire tree-folk to serve and protect you. While I am out, I will acquire whatever plants can be obtained without too much effort."
"And by too much effort, do you mean too much effort for a normal person... or too much effort for you?" Daphne asked.
"For me." Doomwing smiled toothily. "Many of these plants are the pride of the elves. They're always boasting about how only they can grow them, but that's a lie. The only reason they have access to them is because they built their societies around dryads. Now, I have a dryad, and I want to shut them up."
"That's a little, you know, petty."
"Yes, it is." Doomwing leaned forward. "But tell me, Daphne, don't you want to have those plants too? Don't you want to be the envy of all your fellow dryads? I'm sure you thought about it while you were trapped in that blighted land with nothing more than memories of better times to sustain you. You might be young for a dryad, but you have the strength of a primordial dragon to support you. Isn't it time you became a little greedier?"
Daphne glanced from Doomwing to the book. The plants inside were very tempting, and she had often despaired about how she must have compared to her older sisters and the other dryads. More than once, a bird had arrived from a distant land bearing stories of another dryad. Every single time, Daphne had felt small and pathetic compared to those dryads. No more. She'd get all of these plants, and the next time a bird arrived, it would leave carrying stories about her that would make the other dryads envious!
"Get as many as you can," Daphne said at last. "I'll find a way to make it work."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
William had been the headman of the village for more than fifty years. Most of those years had been wonderfully boring, but not this year. No. This year had seen the village attacked by soldiers and much of their crops and livestock destroyed. But they had been avenged. The dragon himself had awakened and laid waste to their foes.
It had been a few months now since he had flown west and then returned. He had brought with him a large tree, and he had planted it roughly a mile and a half from the village. Naturally, William and the others had been curious about the tree, but the dragon had forbidden them approaching it. The message had been delivered by a dragon-shaped construct of some kind, but the voice coming from the construct had undoubtedly belonged to the dragon himself.
Today, though, the dragon had bid them to approach the tree. William had asked for a dozen of the village's stoutest young men to accompany him, and they had set off for the tree, uncertain of what they would find. The great dragon was not there. He had departed not long ago and had yet to return.
They reached the tree and found themselves greeted by a young woman.
Her clothes were worn and faded, and the sword she carried was battered and dented. There were even smudges of dirt on her face and dried blood in her hair. But she was somehow the single most magnificent person that William had ever laid eyes on.
She had raven black hair and violet eyes, and her features were somewhere between beautiful and ferocious. But it was her presence that caught his attention, that made him want to fall to his knees and press his forehead to the dirt.
Power.
That was what this woman radiated. Her gaze drifted over him and the dozen young men he'd brought along, and she instantly dismissed them as threats. In her eyes, they were as dangerous as ants crawling along the ground. Was it arrogance? No. His instincts were screaming at him that her confidence was well earned that if she wanted, she could kill every single one of them with the same amount of effort it would have taken him to squash a bug. He had been scared when the soldiers had attacked the village, but he knew - he just knew - that if this woman ever drew a weapon on him, he would be absolutely terrified.
"I... I am here, just like the mighty dragon asked."
The woman sighed. "I'm guessing Doomwing didn't tell you anything else then?"
She was on a first name basis with the dragon? What... what sort of person was she to use his name so casually.
"Pardon, my lady," he said cautiously. "But... who are you?"
"Me?" The woman's lips twitched. "My name is Antaria. I am his... student."
The dragon had a student? No wonder she was so powerful. He would only have taken the most promising and mighty individuals as students.
"Doomwing is currently occupied," Antaria said. "However, he ordered me to take control of the villages in his territory."
"He did?"
"Yes." Antaria scowled. "His exact words were: I had better see improvements when I get back. You know what to do, so do it." She drove her heel into the ground, and it cracked beneath her. "I am told that you have something of a monster problem."
William nodded. "Yes. I am no great wizard, but I can sense the flow of magic in my surroundings. There is more magic around us now than ever before. It has made the monsters bolder and stronger. It will be hard to plant more crops while they are around, and I do not know if we'll even have the time to plant and harvest another set of crops before winter comes..."
"Daphne," Antaria said.
Another woman emerged from the tree. That is, she came out of the tree itself. She must be a dryad or some other kind of tree spirit. William had heard stories about them although he'd never met one. "I can handle it," Daphne said.
"Daphne is a dryad. With her aid, you will be able to get your crops ready in time."
"And the monsters?" William asked.
Antaria bared her teeth. It reminded William very much of how a dragon might smile. "Leave them to me."
Last edited: Feb 5, 2024
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SecretTwelve
Feb 2, 2024
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