Dragon si

by Dextrode

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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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Threadmarks Chapter 10: The Dragon Is Impressed

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SecretTwelve

Feb 2, 2024

#115

Chapter 10: The Dragon Is Impressed

The giant serpent slithered toward the village. The paltry walls of the human settlement would do little to keep him out. He would smash right through them and then gorge on the humans within. The ruins would become his new home, and he would bask in the rich currents of magic that flowed through the area. He would grow stronger and surpass the limitations of his present form. He was so close that he could almost taste it. And once he ascended, only the dragon would be strong enough to stop him. But the dragon never stayed awake for long. Soon, the dragon would slumber once more, and the serpent would be free to continue growing. Perhaps one day, he might even have the strength to challenge the dragon. Yes. That was a pleasing thought. He would tear the dragon's heart from his chest and swallow it whole.

Behind him, the lesser monsters waited for him to make his move. All of them were weak, but their numbers made them useful. In exchange for not devouring them, they served him. They would wait outside the village and catch any of the humans who tried to flee. And if they failed and allowed some of the humans to escape? The serpent had no need for useless servants. He would eat the failures as a warning to the others.

Hissing sharply, the snake ordered them to get into position before rushing toward the village. He struck the wooden wall and went right through it. Eyes gleaming with malevolent joy, he was about to break open the closest house to feast on the occupants when his instincts screamed at him to dodge. For a split-second, he considered ignoring them. What could possibly threaten him now that the dragon was gone? But those same instincts had allowed him to rise above the other monsters. It would be foolish to ignore them now.

He dodged.

And the ground where his body had been exploded.

The serpent drew back, his body coiled and ready to burst into motion as deadly venom dripped from his foot-long fangs. As the dust cleared, a human stood up. She had black hair and violet eyes, and the moonlight revealed a scowl upon her face.

"Damn it. I was hoping to kill you with that attack." Her gaze drifted to the ruined section of wall. "That is going to be a hassle to fix. I'll have to apologise to the headman for not killing you before you could break it."

The serpent glared. Kill him? Was this foolish human insane? He had faced humans before. None had wounded him in decades. His scales were thick, his coils were strong, and his venom could kill within seconds. And yet... the serpent felt the first stirrings of unease. He reached out with his senses, expecting to feel the usual pathetic reserves of magic that he'd come to expect from humans. Even the strongest of his previous foes had possessed only a fraction of his power.

This human was different.

She had more magic than any human he had faced in the past. However, she still had less magic than him. He gave a low hum of amusement. This human must have grown quite conceited. Yes. She was stronger than other humans, so she must think that she could beat him. How foolish. How naive. How absurd. He would kill her and then devour her, and her strength would become his strength. A fitting end for such a fool.

The serpent readied himself to strike. He used a trio of fifth-order spells to enhance his speed, strength, and agility. He had not lived so long by being careless. He would crush this woman in a single blow!

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are we going to fight?" The woman made a disgusted sound. "I really thought you'd come sooner. I'm missing sleep right now. Hurry up and attack, so I can kill you." She made a face. "Does snake even taste nice? I should ask the villagers about it. Oh, I hope one of them is a chef. If I have to eat another charred monster..."

The serpent could tolerate her insults no longer. The only person who would be eaten would be her!

With one final hiss, the serpent lunged. His form was perfect. His speed was unmatched. The woman died before she could even realise what had happened.

Or so it should have been.

Instead, the woman looked right at him, violet eyes gleaming in the darkness, and then she smiled. Something swirled into existence around her, a power the serpent couldn't quite see or understand, and then she vanished. The serpent missed, and he turned to find her only to realise that she was standing on top of his head.

"I really don't want to break my sword, so this will have to do." The woman raised a fist-sized rock over her head. That strange, inexplicable power swirled into existence around the rock, and then she brought it down.

BOOM.

Antaria bit back a curse.

What the hell had she been thinking? Enhancing herself and then hitting the giant serpent over the head with a rune-enhanced rock had seemed like a great idea right up until the damn thing's skull had exploded in a shower of gore, covering her in a mixture of shattered bone, blood, and brains. There would be no cleaning these clothes out. She was going to have to burn them... unless she could convince Doomwing to clean them or maybe teach her a basic rune for cleaning. There had to be one, right? She doubted regular magic would be enough to get rid of the stains and the stench.

As the serpent's body toppled to the ground, she took a moment to estimate its length. The villagers had been right. It was roughly a hundred feet long. Before meeting Doomwing, she would have been terrified of facing a creature like this on her own. In fact, she wouldn't have felt confident facing it unless she had dozens of soldiers and mages at her side.

Now look at her.

She wasn't scared of it. She was pissed off that she'd made such a mess while killing it.

On the upside, it looked like the serpent's fangs had survived. She didn't know if she could turn those into weapons, but it was probably worth trying. If nothing else, she could use regular magic to preserve them and then stab stuff with them. She wasn't a weapon smith, but it shouldn't be too hard to turn the fangs into daggers or perhaps the tips of a pair of spears.

"Are you... okay?" The question came from William, the headman. For an old fellow, he was quite brave, and he had been the first to emerge to see if she was all right.

"I'm fine. Just mad." Antaria scowled. "My clothes are ruined, and you'll have to fix that part of the wall." She paused. "Sorry about that."

"It's... it's fine." William nodded quickly. "This serpent could easily have killed us all."

"Yeah, well, it's not over yet." Antaria grabbed what was left of the serpent's head and began to drag it behind her as she walked toward the hole in the wall. "There are a bunch of monsters outside. I'm going to speak to them."

"Speak to them?" William asked.

"Doomwing told me that monsters tend to get smarter the stronger they are. The ones outside should be smart enough to understand what I'm saying. I could kill them all, or..."

"Or?"

"You'll see." Antaria grinned toothily. "Just wait here."

She walked out of the village and stopped where all the monsters could see her. None of them were as strong as the serpent she'd just killed. The smallest of them was roughly the size of a grown man whilst the largest were many times that size. One of them opened its mouth to howl only to fall still and silent when it saw what she was dragging along. With a derisive snort, she tossed the mangled remains of the serpent's head onto the ground in front of her.

It was a mess, but she was sure they could understand what it was.

"I killed your leader with this rock." Antaria held up the rock she'd used in her other hand. It was still smeared in gore. "And now I'm going to give you all a choice. I can kill the rest of you with this rock, or you can do the smart thing. You can kneel. There is a lot of work to be done around here, and you all look pretty useful."

The monsters all resembled larger, magically altered versions of animals she was familiar with like wolves, bulls, tigers, snakes, badgers, and birds. For this area to prosper, they would need beasts of burden. So why stick to mundane beasts when monsters were so much stronger?

"You followed that overgrown snake because he was stronger than any of you." Antaria kicked the remains of the head. The monsters flinched away from the resulting spray of gore. "Now he is dead, and I am the one who killed him. Follow me instead. Do as I say, and I will see to it that you have all the food you need. If other monsters attack you, then I will kill them myself." She glared, and the magic within her pulsed, seething in a bid to emulate the terrifying menace that Doomwing exuded so effortlessly. "Are you afraid of the dragon?"

The monsters refused to answer. Instead, they looked away, cowed at the mere mention of Doomwing.

"Good. That means you aren't stupid." Antaria put her hands on her hips. "But you don't have to worry about him. You are beneath his notice. However, he is my teacher, and he has ordered me to improve these lands. I have no intention of disappointing him. Those who obey and aid me have no reason to fear, but those who choose to oppose me will die." She spread her arms. "Choose. Will you obey, or will you die?"

The monsters looked at each other, and then one of them charged toward her. It was a tiger the size of a house. Magic gathered around it, a pair of fifth-order enhancement spells turning it into the equivalent of a living avalanche. Antaria had grown adept enough at absorbing and circulating magic from her surroundings that she could have killed it in hand-to-hand combat without using a rune. But she didn't want to kill it. She wanted to massacre it, so the next time any of the monsters thought of rebelling, they'd remember what happened and decide it was better not to test her patience.

She wove a pair of runes around her rock and then threw it as the tiger sprang toward her.

The tiger hit the ground and rolled to a stop in front of her. There was a hole in its skull, along with a much larger one from where the rock had burst out of its body. Antaria smiled and then scowled as she realised that she now had no idea where her rock was. Damn it.

"He chose to die." Antaria knelt down and then picked up another rock. It wasn't quite as large as her original rock, but there was a decent weight to it, and the way the monsters flinched away when she stood and brandished it at them was oddly gratifying. "Does anyone else want to die, or will you obey?"

Doomwing watched through his construct as Antaria led the now obedient monsters toward the village. They trailed after her like ducklings, too afraid to do anything more than obey. The headman, William, stared at the procession in disbelief, and the expression on his face only grew more amusing as she explained what she had done.

Doomwing was pleased. No. More than that. He was impressed.

He had expected Antaria to kill the giant serpent without much difficulty although allowing the wall to be damaged had been a miscalculation on her part. She'd also been clever enough to use another weapon instead of her battered sword. Although she could have used a rune to reinforce her sword, the weapon was already in such poor condition that it was only a matter of time before it broke. He'd have to get her a better one, albeit not one so good that she came to rely on it instead of her own abilities. Hmm... perhaps he could teach her a basic rune for restoration. It was the very first healing-oriented rune that Elerion had ever learned, and it worked on inanimate objects too.

He had expected Antaria to kill the rest of the monsters. It was what Elerion had done when put in a similar situation. He had seen the threat they posed, and he had eliminated them without hesitation. It had been an impressive showing of strength and decisiveness. However, Antaria needed a work force, and the monsters were far stronger than the villagers or their livestock. Even the weakest of the monsters could pull loads that would normally require a team of oxen. Moreover, some of the monsters could fly whilst others could burrow beneath the ground. All of them had potential uses.

A normal human would have looked at the monsters and decided that it was too dangerous to keep them around. But Antaria was no longer a normal human. She understood, in some visceral way, that the monsters didn't care who led them so long as their leader was the strongest and was able to provide what they needed.

The monsters would work. In exchange, they would receive food and shelter. If they were threatened, then Antaria would kill their enemies. It was a simple way of viewing the world, but it had worked for them so far, and Antaria had proven she had the strength to lead by slaughtering the giant serpent and then the giant tiger. Of course, her mount, Swiftstride had decided to show himself, and the winged unicorn was now throwing his weight around in a bid to make it clear that he was next in the pecking order after Antaria. However, Doomwing could already see several of the monsters eyeing the unicorn speculatively. None of them were stupid enough to think they could beat Antaria, but the unicorn was not nearly as scary. It might be possible for them to snatch his position.

Hmm... Antaria would have to make clear what sort of competition she would allow, which should be interesting.

Satisfied that Antaria had the matter well in hand, he shifted his attention back to his current location.

He had flown south after leaving his territory, and his destination was already visible on the horizon. When Mother Tree had chosen her path, her daughters had followed in her footsteps. They had shared her fate. Only the seeds she had released just before her death had been spared. They had not committed any crimes, so Doomwing and the others had been reluctant to exterminate them, not least because doing so would condemn what remained of the elves to death.

In the end, they had settled for watching the newly sprouted Daughter Trees to see if any of them wished to follow Mother Tree's path. A few had, and they had been dealt with. However, the majority had chosen to be more reasonable, either because they genuinely disagreed with Mother Tree's actions or because they were smart enough to realise that emulating her was a death sentence. The oldest and mightiest of those Daughter Trees was the dryad who had adopted the name Anthracia.

Unlike most of the other Daughter Trees that closely resembled Mother Tree, Anthracia was different. Her leaves were as burning embers in appearance, and her bark was the black of scorched wood and the grey of ash. She was a living reminder of Mother Tree's fate, both as a warning to her sisters and an admonishment to those who had slain her mother. And she was strong. She had grown taller and stronger than any of the others, and the elves who had sworn themselves to her were the greatest of their kind that still remained in the world.

Doomwing was not small. He was roughly a mile long, yet compared to Anthracia, he was tiny.

Staring at the towering tree rising high above the dense forest that spanned the horizon, Doomwing smiled. She was a little over four miles tall, and already he could feel her power stir at his approach. It had been tempting to leave this visit until the end, but there were plants he needed from her domain, along with a few tree folk he was interested in recruiting. It was better to handle this now before his journey wearied him or aggravated him into saying something unwise.

Author's Notes

Antaria is just a little bit of a monster herself now. And Doomwing is going to be having an interesting time. Oh, yes, I know I helped blow up your mother, but you have some stuff I need. That'll go over well. On the upside, if worse comes to worst, he can always try to fly away. It's not like Anthracia can get up and chase after him. Double update (sort of) since I'm probably busy later. Also, Anthracia is still a lot smaller than Mother Tree was.

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SecretTwelve

Feb 2, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 11: The Dragon Talks To Another Tree

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SecretTwelve

Feb 4, 2024

#119

Chapter 11: The Dragon Talks To Another Tree

The denizens of the forest felt a storm on the horizon, but Anthracia knew better. She was the oldest of the Daughter Trees still living, and she would never mistake what was approaching for a storm.

The currents of magic that flowed through the earth and sky twisted and bent at his approach. The wind carried whispers of his name, not the name his parents had given him, but the names the world itself had bestowed upon him for his deeds. Few were those who had received that privilege, and even amongst the primordial dragons, none carried with them as many names as him.

Spell-Binder.

Magic-Weaver.

Rune-Seeker.

Those were the names the world had given him for his prowess in magic. There were none living who surpassed him in the overall depth and breadth of their knowledge. She suspected that his wisdom and knowledge of the arcane had surpassed even the titans of the First Age. Oh, the First Gods had been mighty, some beyond the ability of even her kind to understand. But Doomwing had lived long, and he had sought the secrets of magic as greedily as he had sought to grow his hoard.

God-Mourner.

Mother-Slayer.

Ocean-Breaker.

Dead-Killer.

Beast-Conqueror.

Will-Liberator.

Those were the names he had earned over the Ages in his battles against the Catastrophes. Where many of his kind had retreated from the world or even fled it, Doomwing had stubbornly continued to fight. He alone, of all the primordial dragons, had fought against every single one of the Catastrophes. He had been wounded many times and almost slain in several of his battles, yet still he fought.

She could still remember the last time she had seen him, albeit only through the eyes of the elves who had left the safety of her forest to join the battle against the Sixth Catastrophe. For all her power, she could not leave the forest, so she had given them what gifts she could and sent them to fight in her stead with whatever tree folk and monster she could spare. Only a handful of them had returned, but she had witnessed the final battle through their eyes.

High King Elerion had fallen at the hands of his lover, valiant to the last, the bodies of his foes heaped up in great mountains beside him. Blind and with his armour and weapons broken, he had fought to the end. It had been glorious, an end worthy of the First Age, and the sight of it had so moved the hearts of the survivors that to this day, songs were still sung of the greatest of the kings of men in the Age when they were at their strongest. Marcus had been there too, beset on all sides, fangs bared, blood-drinking blade shining a brilliant crimson as he cut his way through the kitsune and their supporters, half-mad with grief and rage and sorrow.

There had been other heroes too, all the might and glory of that Age gathered for a single decisive battle against someone who possessed the skill and power to break the minds of others and bend them to her will. Entire nations had fallen without resistance, their kings enslaved, their people bewitched, their armies turned into puppets. Only a great aegis of magic protected them, woven by Doomwing himself and bolstered by all the masters of dreams and minds they could find who had not thrown in their lot with Kagami.

And then Doomwing had fallen.

A spear of god-metal had struck him, its surface awash with divine runes thought lost since the First Age. Anthracia had no idea where Kagami had gotten it. The only source of god-metal had been the First Gods, and they had all fallen in the First Age. And when they fell, the god-metal of their bodies had not lingered. It had vanished in blinding bursts of god-fire that had gouged holes in reality and had shaken the world. It should not have been possible to find even a shard of god-metal, but Kagami had found a spear of the material and had either crafted the divine runes herself in defiance of her nature or had found the spear intact and whole with those runes upon it.

Doomwing should have died.

And he would have, if he had been even a fraction slower in his defence.

Ancient runes of great and terrible power had sprung up to protect him and blunt the blow of the spear. Yet even so, it had pierced the scales of his chest and had torn him from the sky. The runes upon the spear had sung of death and doom and inescapable fate. But Doomwing had not faltered. Even as molten blood poured from his wounds, he had studied the weapon that was trying to kill him, and he had seen a way to win. To this day, Anthracia was not sure how he had done it, but Doomwing had broken the spear and ripped it from his body before it could slay him.

And then, barely conscious, power all but gone, he had taken the shattered shards of the spear and wrestled from them the god-fire that dwelt within, turning it against Kagami and striking her down. The shards of the spear had vanished, reduced to utter nothingness, and Doomwing had at last allowed himself to fall, to slump wounded and drained, upon a battlefield of corpses, for the sheer might of his counter attack had slain all but the mightiest of those fighting, and even they had been gravely wounded.

It had been Marcus who reached him first, and the ancient vampire had drained his sword of all the power it had accumulated and poured it into desperate runes and spells in a bid to heal his friend. The sword had been dull and dark by the time he had finished, but Doomwing had lived although it was beyond even Marcus's power to fully heal the wound upon Doomwing's chest. Marcus had stood guard over the dragon, allowing none to approach until Doomwing awakened. The dragon had eventually left the battlefield, flying slowly to the volcano he called home and plunging himself into the fiery depths to rest and heal.

Now, Doomwing was close enough for her keen-eyed children, the elves, to see him, and what a sight he was. From a distance, he was a bank of ruby and sapphire clouds, and the sun upon his scales cast beams of red and blue upon the landscape and the sky. Dragons were not the largest creatures to roam the skies, but they were the swiftest and most graceful. Doomwing flew as though the sky belonged to him. Each wing beat was a proclamation of his might, and the skies emptied as lesser fliers cleared the way.

No bird would take wing while he was overhead. No drake or wyvern would dare. Even griffins, proud and unyielding, knew better than to challenge him. There had been larger dragons in the First Age. The greatest of them all had been Sovereign Flame, Father of Dragons, Son of Wind and Fire, and the All-Consuming Flame. He had died, as all the great dragons of that Age had, but his flame had scorched open the god-metal of the Broken God's body. Sovereign Flame had been a raging torrent of power, a blazing, burning, overwhelming surge of draconic might the world would never see again. Doomwing was different. He was a razor with wings, as thin as a needle but sharper than any spear ever forged by gods or mortals. According to the memories she had received from Mother Tree, Sovereign Flame had been a natural disaster given form, wild and untamed. When he fought with his full strength, Doomwing was craftsman, ruthlessly shaping battles until his victory was the only possible result.

In truth, she would have been more concerned if he had not revealed himself so openly. Had he wished to attack her in earnest, he would have concealed himself and then launched spells and runes that would have slain all of her children and the allies she could call upon. Then he would have attacked her from afar, seeking to whittle her down in a battle that played to his strengths instead of hers. Instead, he was closing in, slowing his pace so as not to damage her forest unnecessarily.

He must want to talk, but she could not afford to show weakness, not to him, not to anyone.

And so she decided to show him what she had been working on over the past thousand years while he slept.

Doomwing reached out with his magic and senses. Anthracia had not launched an attack yet, which was a very good sign. However, she had decided to greet him in a manner that most would have found threatening. However, he found it refreshing. Anthracia was right to be wary of him, but unlike so many of her sister, she was not afraid of him.

Tree folk awakened in the forests below. They were hundreds of feet tall, and each had one arm fashioned in the likeness of a colossal blow while the other readied arrows that could have slain a lesser dragon in a single blow. Those arrows were made from their own bodies, magical wood reinforced with spells and runes to supernatural toughness. There were hundreds of these tree folk, enough that even he would have to take a full volley seriously.

Alongside the tree folk were the elves of the forest. Most were beneath his notice, unable to muster the strength to harm him even if he didn't defend himself. However, there were several worthy of notice. One in particular wielded a relic of the Third Age, the Bow of the Burning Tree, which had been crafted from heart wood scavenged from the ruins of Mother Tree. It fired rune-arrows made from dozens of runes combined into a greater whole. While he doubted the elf wielding it had the power to use the bow to its full strength, he would be dangerous if he could draw upon Anthracia's power.

There were also beasts of all kinds, from the winged serpents who had survived the Third Age and had chosen to live on land to the great eagles, hippogriffs, and other fliers of the forest. In battle, not a single one of them would be a match for him. Instead, they would use their numbers to occupy him and keep him in place while the tree folk launched their arrows and Anthracia used her magic.

And then something happened that he did not expected.

The leaves upon Anthracia's tree began to glow, and then the air was full of them, millions upon millions of leaves, some as small as a human hand and others larger than a house. They rose up in a great cloud of embers and ash, and Doomwing's eyes narrowed as the Daughter Tree wove runes into each and every one of them. Only someone who viewed an entire forest as an extension of themselves could ever have managed so many runes at once. True, the vast majority of the runes were not very powerful, but there were greater runes amongst them, along with some ancient runes. And the total was so much more than the sum of its parts. Even Doomwing, who considered himself perhaps the greatest living magic user, was impressed.

But Anthracia was not done yet.

The tempest of leaves folded in on itself and took on the shape of a phoenix. Wings that were even larger than Doomwing's spread wide, and Anthracia's voice came from the construct. The runes upon the leaves crackled in Doomwing's vision, arcs of primordial power streaking back and forth across the phoenix's body. Part of him longed to fight the construct, to test himself against what he could already tell was a worthy foe... but he had not come here to fight, and he was no longer a foolish hatchling who thought only of battle and glory.

"It has been a thousand years," Anthracia said. "What brings you to my forest."

Doomwing saw no reason to mince words. "I seek plants and tree folk." Images appeared beside him of the plants and tree folk he sought.

"From my forest?" Anthracia's construct shimmered with runic might, and Doomwing wondered what would happen if he smote it with an ancient rune of dispersal. Would the leave be scattered completely, or would they manage to hold their shape and formation? "You must realise that those plants require a dryad's power to maintain and those tree folk will not settle anywhere far from a dryad. Strong you may be, Doomwing, but I will not send plants or tree folk to their deaths."

"Then it is convenient that I have recently acquired a dryad," Doomwing said. An image of Daphne appeared. "She is young, very young, but I have tasked her with improving my lands."

The phoenix of leaves stared at him, and he could feel the weight of her gaze upon him. "You have never cared much for your lands before. You have been content to rest and recover from your wounds, and even before the Sixth Catastrophe, you showed little interest in changing the desolate nature of your territory."

"I am now a dragon emperor," Doomwing said. "And no decent emperor would be content to rule over a wasteland."

"A dragon emperor?" Anthracia's voice was filled with scepticism. "What foolishness is this?"

And so he explained his contest with Marcus about which of them could become the greater king. When he was done, there was a long pause, and then Anthracia began to laugh.

"Had someone else told me this, I would have called them a liar, for the Doomwing I know would never do such a thing. Yet here you are, and you have spoken the words yourself." Anthracia gave a low hum, and the leaves quivered in the air, rolling like waves across the sea. "I find myself intrigued by what sort of place your territory will become. Very well, I shall give you what you seek... but not for free."

"Of course. I did not come here like a beggar demanding gifts." Doomwing brought forth two things. "An exchange is what I seek."

"Oh?" The phoenix peered at the things beside him. "And what are those?"

Doomwing used his magic to move the rosebush he'd brought forward. "These are ember-truth roses."

"Those were all destroyed during the Sixth Age," Anthracia replied. "I know. I had my children search far and wide for them."

"Kagami had them destroyed because ember-truth roses burn away illusions and lies. Their petals can be ground up to make potions that render people immune to all but the most powerful illusions and mind-influencing magic. She knew how dangerous they would be and got rid of them before we could make use of them against her. However, a handful of them survived, weak, frail, and withered in forgotten places. During one of my awakenings almost seven hundred years ago, I found them. You see, ember-truth roses can only grow in places where there is great magical energy and heat, and they grow best of all in areas frequented by a celestial dragon."

Anthracia's phoenix beat its wings. "Dawnscale left at the end of the Fourth Age. She was the last celestial dragon. No others have reached that state since."

"She did leave," Doomwing acknowledged. "But she left a few of her scales with me as a gift, perhaps in the hopes that I might join her some day. I still have those scales, and her power still lingers in them. I took the ember-truth roses I found and placed them and the scales in an artefact I have. It has taken seven hundred years, but I have multiple bushes of them now. I would give you this bush as part of our exchange." He eased the rosebush toward her. "Now that the bush is this large, it no longer needs to draw upon the strength of a celestial dragon. The touch of a dryad should be more than enough to see it grow and prosper."

"A worthy item," Anthracia murmured.

He could sense the greed in her words. Like Daphne, the thought of a new plant excited her, especially one so rare that she was likely the only other person in the world who had one.

"And the other item?" Anthracia asked.

Doomwing nodded at the massive scale floating beside him. "The scale of a leviathan from the Third Age. You were not yet old enough to slay the greatest of their number, but I felled many of them. The edges of your forest border the sea. This scale can be used in the forging of armour that lets its wearer breathe underwater and move as easily underwater as they would on land. Unlike the scales of lesser krakens, the effects will be much stronger, and the drain on the wearer's magic much lower."

The dryad considered the scale, and then her phoenix construct nodded. "Both are suitable. I will provide you with the plants you seek and choose appropriate tree folk for you."

"Appropriate?" Doomwing asked.

"It would be unwise to bring older tree folk to such a young dryad, lest they contest her leadership. Younger tree folk will not be as strong, but they will not make trouble. They shall grow in strength together, and the bond between them will deepen until it is unbreakable."

"I will heed your words. You know more about tree folk than me." Doomwing turned his gaze further south. "I have more plants and tree folk to collect. I wish to collect the rest of them first and then return here once I am done since you are the closest to my territory."

"Very well. I will ensure that everything is ready when you return." Anthracia's phoenix glared. "Be mindful when you visit my sisters, Doomwing. They are more... fragile than myself."

"I will do nothing foolish, provided they act with common sense."

"And if they do not?" Anthracia asked.

"Fear not. I will not slay them or cause too much harm, but I will educate them." Doomwing offered Anthracia a seed. "A communication seed from Daphne, the dryad who is in my territory. Will you accept it?"

"I will." A seed floated over to Doomwing. "And here is one of mine. Give it to her." Anthracia's phoenix shook its head. "Putting up with you cannot be easy. It will be good for her to have another dryad to talk to."

Doomwing's lips curled. "And being a tree must be unbearable. No wonder you created a construct who can fly." He paused. "What will happen to all your leaves now?"

Anthracia's phoenix construct laughed. "I am not so foolish as to strip my tree bare of leaves without a plan. They shall simply reattach themselves to my tree and be none the worse for it."

Last edited: Feb 9, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 12: The Dragon Sees Something Unusual

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SecretTwelve

Feb 4, 2024

#127

Chapter 12: The Dragon Sees Something Unusual

As privileged as the world was to witness his splendour, Doomwing was all too aware that there were times when it was best to travel unnoticed. A dragon of his size and power had a tendency to attract trouble, either in the form of challengers or in people seeking to win his favour. He was not in the mood for either today, so he had chosen to conceal himself from view. It was a middling concealment at best, a spell of the tenth order that hid his presence from others. However, in the event that he did run into one of the few forces capable of challenging him in battle, a rune of concealment would be interpreted as a prelude to conflict. This spell, however, made it clear to anyone of sufficient skill and power that he wasn't looking for a fight but was instead hoping to travel unbothered.

Below him, the seemingly endless forest that Anthracia ruled over had given way to a vast, rolling plain covered in grass and dotted by the occasional tree. Towering over the plain were spires of black rock that clawed up toward the sky, along with pillars of polished grey stone that stood even taller. The pillars were covered in the ancient magical script of the dwarves and were imbued with a collection of runes, ranging from basic runes to a handful of greater runes.

Doomwing smiled faintly.

In the long ago days of the Third Age, when the seas had risen to swallow the world, this area had been beneath the waves. Although many of the elves had sought safety in the boughs of the Daughter Trees, others had allied with the dwarves, the stalwart children of the earth. The dwarves had lost their homes to rising waters, and most had retreated to the highest and most remote peaks for safety. Yet some had sought refuge not within mountains but in the sky, allying with the like-minded elves to craft ships that could sail through the clouds and even a city that soared through the sky.

Those ships and that city had needed vast quantities of magic to remain aloft. The spires of black rock upon the plain were natural conduits that allowed magic to flow between the earth and sky. The dwarves and elves had studied them and created the grey pillars to do the same but in a way that allowed their ships and city to more easily harvest that magic for their use.

Those had been good days. The dwarves and elves of that age had delved deeply into the intersection of magic and mechanics and had developed techniques that combined both to devastating effect. Their ships and city had possessed weapons that drew upon the vast energies that flowed through the world. They would channel that power through artifacts of exquisite craftsmanship that shaped that raw magical energy into spells of impressive might.

Doomwing had been fascinated by their approach to magic, and he had spent many years learning and researching alongside them. He had been smaller then, which made it much easier for him to seek shelter upon the large, floating island the city was built upon. And he had been on good terms with Aurai, the dryad who dwelt at the very heart of the city. Only a dryad like her could have managed the many mechanisms and magics that allowed the city to fly, and she alone, of all the Daughter Trees, had loved the sky more than the ground.

But those days had not lasted, and in the end, she and almost all of the dwarves and elves she treasured had perished in the battle against the Third Catastrophe. With their deaths, the elves and dwarves alike abandoned the skies, and never again was there a city that soared through the sky or ships that sailed through the clouds. Now, the dwarves dreamt only of rock and stone, and the elves seldom left their forest homes. Perhaps one day, he would meet dwarves and elves who still dreamed of the sky, and perhaps he would teach them how to fly again.

Yet as he continued to fly over the plain, he noticed something very unusual. There were centaurs fighting a large five-headed hydra. That, in and of itself, was not odd. Hydras could often be found on plains where they would prey on sheep, bison, and whatever else they could catch. Centaurs, being larger than ordinary horses, would be ideal prey for a hungry hydra, especially if the hydra could catch them unawares or while they had children with them. True, centaurs could outpace a hydra, but hydras did not tire easily, and they could keep up a steady pace for days, gradually wearing the centaurs down until either they stopped to give battle or left behind those who tired most easily. Either way, the hydra would get fed.

What was unusual, however, were the goblins riding on the backs of the centaurs. For a moment, Doomwing wondered if the goblins were working with the hydra. During the Fifth Age when centaurs had gone to war with the elves, the children of the forest had quickly learned that leaping onto the back of a centaur was an easy way to kill them. However, these goblins were not attacking the centaurs. Instead, they were using magic or bows to attack the hydra while the centaurs kept their distance, darting forward now and then to stab at the reptile with long lances or to throw their spears.

Doomwing chuckled. It was not often that he saw something he had never seen before, but this was definitely new... and very amusing. Watching it, he couldn't help but be impressed by their coordination. Goblins were, for the most part, fairly weak from a physical standpoint. Their greatest advantage lay in how quickly they matured. A goblin might only live fifty years at best, but a goblin was already ready to fight by the age of seven or eight. In contrast, elves could live for hundreds of years, but no elf under fifty would see the battlefield unless things were truly dire. Centaurs, though, had lifespans similar to humans.

A goblin on the back of a centaur did not have to worry about being overwhelmed in a contest of strength or speed. Anything close enough to reach them would have to contend with the centaur, and centaurs were both very strong and very quick. Indeed, Marcus had often grumbled about how annoying it was to fight a competent centaur with solid armour, a stout shield, and a spear. Perched safely on the back of the centaur, the goblins could use magic or loose arrows, all while the centaur was on the move. Indeed, by retreating whenever the hydra tried to charge, the centaurs were able to maintain a safe distance from the beast while the goblins on their backs whittled it down with arrows and magic. Only when it stumbled or left itself exposed would a centaur attack with their lance or their spear, magic from the goblin mage on their back enhancing their bodies and shielding them from harm.

For a moment, he pictured Marcus and Elerion riding on the back of a centaur before tossing the idea aside with a snicker. The two of them would have spent more time bickering and jockeying for position than they would have fighting, and the centaur would likely throw them off in sheer aggravation within minutes. Hmm... perhaps he could find a centaur for Antaria to ride on, if only to spite that unicorn of hers.

The hydra bellowed, and one of the centaurs lost his footing. The horse-man staggered, and the hydra's heads drew back, ready to unleash a volley of acid that would kill the centaur and the goblins on his back. Doomwing decided to intervene, not because he particularly cared if the centaur and goblins lived or died but because he was curious to know more, and the simplest way to do that was to ask the people involved.

He snapped off a tenth-order spell. It was a straightforward attack, one that destroyed all of the vital organs of the target simultaneously. The hydra gave a shocked gasp and toppled onto its side, but it was far from dead. Hydras were regenerators. Something as pedestrian as mass organ destruction was not nearly enough to kill a hydra with five heads. He used a second spell, another tenth-order magic that prevented regeneration and healing. Only then did the hydra die.

The centaurs and goblins milled about in confusion, and Doomwing revealed himself.

He landed with an earth-shaking thump, and the centaurs and goblins stared at him in horrified disbelief. He could see a few readying their weapons, but a wizened goblin with grey hair and plenty of wrinkles shouted for calm.

"Do not attack!" the goblin shouted. "Do not attack!" There were grumbles, but whoever the goblin was, he must have held a position of great authority because they all obeyed. The goblin nudged the centaur he was on, and the horse-man trotted forward. "Mighty dragon," the goblin said. "I am Derzu, chieftain of the goblins that dwell in this area. Would it be possible to negotiate?"

Doomwing bared his teeth. "Perhaps. But why would you even ask?"

Derzu shrugged. "I think it is safe to say that you were the one who slew the hydra we were fighting. With power like yours, we would already be dead if you wished us harm. I believe you want something from us, and I wish to ask what it is, so that we may leave here with our lives."

"You are clever, Derzu." Doomwing chuckled. "I am Doomwing. I am passing through this area in search of certain plants and tree folk. However, I noticed you and your fellows while I was flying overhead."

"We did not see you," Derzu said.

"My magic concealed me," Doomwing replied. "I have lived many, many years, but I have never seen a goblin ride on the back of the centaur unless the goblin was trying to kill the centaur."

"Ah." Derzu smiled faintly. "Do you want to know why we are working together?"

"I find myself curious."

Derzu's smile widened. "For many years, my people and the centaurs were at war.

"A war we were winning," the centaur he was riding said.

"Bah! It was a stalemate," Derzu shot back. "Life upon the plains is not always easy, and there is only so much food and other resources to go around. However, we were forced to form an alliance three centuries ago when great wolves spread onto the plains. Hunting in packs, they were a menace to both goblins and centaurs. In desperation, our ancestors formed an alliance. We were able to beat the wolves back, and we realised that life was easier when we worked together than when we were trying to kill each other." He shrugged. "And so the alliance has remained in place ever since."

"And the hydra?"

"Hydras hunt both goblins and centaurs." Derzu made a face. "We travel the plains, setting up camp where conditions are best. This hydra has been tracking us for some time now, and we wished to face it away from our camp, lest we fail. At least then, our kin would be able to flee." He bowed deeply, as did the other goblins and centaurs. "I had expected to lose at least a dozen centaurs and goblins, yet we are all safe because you struck the hydra down."

"I wouldn't have been able to ask you questions if you were dead." Doomwing could have, actually, but he would not resort to necromancy unless absolutely necessary. The Fourth Catastrophe had made him wary of such magic. "And it was a trifling matter for me to deal with."

"It was not trifling to us." Derzu grinned toothily. "A dead hydra is a boon not only for the safety its death provides but also for the rich bounty its body leaves behind."

"Oh?"

"The venom and blood of a hydra are both deadly, as is its acid. We have means of storing all three, and coating our arrows or spears in them can allow us to slay our foes with ease. A hydra's scales are strong and resistant to poison and magic, so we can fashion them into fine armour. Likewise, the teeth can be used to make weapons. Even the flesh is useful although it must be drained of blood and cleansed with magic before it can be consumed. It is tasty, filling, and can help both young and old increase their power. Truly, you have given us a great gift this day... that is, if you are willing to let us have the hydra."

Doomwing's estimation of the goblin rose. He was polite but also smart enough to realise that he would only get whatever Doomwing chose to give him. "I have no interest in the hydra. I have other prey on my mind." The last time he had passed this way, there had been sky whales. He wouldn't mind eating a few if he saw them. "In exchange, I wish to know about what has happened in this area. Who are the great powers here? Has there been any unusual activity? And if you can tell me anything about the dryad who should live nearby, I would be pleased."

"Ah. In that case, we would be glad to share what we know, only... do you mean her harm?" Derzu asked before continuing quickly. "I do not presume to tell you what to do, but we have had dealings with her in the past. She drives a tough bargain, but she is fair, and she keeps her oaths. I would not wish to see her come to harm."

"I have no intention of harming her," Doomwing said. "But she is the one who can direct me to the plants and tree folk I seek."

"That is good to hear." Derzu nodded. "We will share what we know."

Three things stood out to Doomwing from the information that Derzu shared. First, the dryad was still around although she had apparently been experiencing difficulties lately. What those were, Derzu could not say because she had not seen fit to tell him. Second, there were indeed sky whales although they were only around once every several months, staying for a few weeks before moving on. If Derzu's estimations were correct, they should be arriving any day now. Doomwing licked his lips at that information. It had been centuries since he'd eaten a sky whale. The final important piece of information that Derzu shared was the presence of dwarves. Apparently, they had arrived on the edges of the plains perhaps a century ago. He didn't really know what they were doing so far from their mountain homes, but they sometimes traded supplies with them in exchange for weapons.

"Your information has been helpful," Doomwing said.

"Thank you." Derzu scratched the back of his neck. "Are you... planning on hunting the sky whales?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Doomwing said. "They are delicious."

"Do you eat the entire body?" Derzu asked.

"Planning to scavenge a few pieces for yourselves?" Doomwing asked, amused.

"The teeth are very useful to us, as are some of the other parts. However, we cannot easily hunt them. The only ones we've ever killed are those too old or sick to stay in the air."

"I see." Doomwing laughed. "Very well. If I happen to kill any, I shall leave whatever I don't eat. If you or someone else should happen across the remains, what happens to them is not my concern."

Derzu bowed again. "You have our thanks."

Doomwing took flight, leaving the goblins and centaurs behind. Some might have thought his treatment of the group strange, but it was perfectly sensible to him. Antaria's kingdom had sent soldier to raid his lands. He had shown them the respect they deserved, which was none. However, Derzu and his fellows had been respectful, had offered useful information, and had not done anything foolish. Doomwing was not some mindless beast who would slay them without cause.

Besides, being on reasonable terms with the people who lived here could very easily benefit him and his territory in the future. If nothing else, perhaps he could persuade a few centaurs and goblins to join him. Now to find out what was wrong with the dryad, hunt a few sky whales, and then check in on the dwarves. There was nothing for them out here unless... yes. Perhaps they were searching for relics from the Third Age.

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Threadmarks Interlude 2: The Mirror

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SecretTwelve

Feb 5, 2024

#134

Interlude 2: The Mirror

Kagami watched her lover and daughter act like idiots and couldn't help but smile.

"Agh!" Elerion clutched at his stomach in dramatic fashion and toppled to the ground. "I am defeated!"

Hikari cackled and struck a pose atop his downed form, stick held aloft, and lone fox tail wagging happily. "Hah! You're not match for me, daddy!"

Alas, her daughter had not accounted for his ruthless cunning. Snickering, he twisted and got to his feet, holding her upside down by her ankles as she flailed away at him with her stick. Her flailing achieved precisely nothing. What rudimentary magical reinforcement she could use on her stick had no hope of overcoming her father's natural durability.

"Treachery!" she cried. "You surrendered!"

"Did I?" Elerion smirked. "I only said I was defeated. I never said I surrendered. Always make sure you obtain a formal and public declaration of surrender."

Hikari's eyes narrowed. "I will remember this... father."

Elerion reeled back as if struck. "Father? What happened to calling me daddy?"

"Treacherous people don't get to be called daddy."

Elerion put her back down and clutched at his chest. "Your wounds strike more deeply than any weapon." He covered his face with his hands. "Even I, the High King, cannot help but weep at your cruelty."

Hikari scoffed. "You're just faking, daddy."

He moved his hands and smirked. "You're calling me daddy again!"

"..." Hikari made a face, and Kagami could tell that she was very seriously considering kicking her father in the shin. Only the knowledge that she'd probably break her foot doing it kept her from lashing out. "No wonder Uncle Marcus says you're a schemer, daddy."

"I only scheme when I have to. But your Uncle Marcus? He schemes because it's fun." Elerion patted her on the head, and her fox ears twitched until he paused to give them a fond scratch. "You know, we were supposed to go fishing at the lake until you decided to ambush me."

"It's practice." Hikari nodded sagely. "Uncle Doomwing says that because I'm tiny and weak, trying to fight people directly would be a bad idea."

"Well, he's not wrong," Elerion said as they continued their short walk to the shores of the lake. "But you have to realise that compared to Doomwing, just about everyone is tiny and weak."

"Not Aunt Dreamsong. She said she could totally beat him in a fight." Hikari abandoned walking in favour of climbing Elerion like a tree and riding on his shoulders. More than once Kagami had wondered why their daughter didn't do that to her more often, but Hikari had very patiently explained that Kagami was an awful tree and an even worse horse. Elerion, however, was an excellent tree and an even better horse. Kagami hadn't been sure whether to be amused or annoyed by that. Then again, Elerion has much taller than her, and his shoulders were far broader.

"Don't tell your Uncle Doomwing she said that," Elerion said. "Otherwise, he might actually fight her just to see if she can."

Kagami reached over to catch the ribbon that had fallen out of Hikari's hair. While her daughter had her piercing green eyes, her hair, tail, and fox ears were the same golden shade as her Elerion's hair. Hikari was a bundle of energy, but she also liked to keep her hair long, which meant this ribbon was only the most recent in a long line of ribbons that had been lost or mangled in the line of duty.

"Mommy," Hikari asked. "Who do you think would win in a fight between Uncle Doomwing and Aunt Dreamsong?"

"If the fight were to take place in the dreaming world or in their minds, I suspect your aunt would win. However, your uncle would win if the battle took place in the physical world. I suppose it depends on whether or not he has developed magic that can keep the fight in the physical world. Knowing him, he probably has several spells or even runes specifically for that."

"Doomwing never did like to be underprepared," Elerion said, chuckling. His gaze went to the water ahead of them. "Now remember what we all agreed to beforehand."

"No magic while fishing," Hikari said dutifully. "Because you know you'll lose if we allow it."

"Yes, dear," Kagami teased. "You are skilled in a great many things, but fishing isn't one of them."

Elerion made a face. "You two are just like Doomwing. He's all 'magic exists to be used', so of course there's nothing wrong with using lightning to electrocute the fish in a lake or using his nova dragon powers to just pull all the fish out of the lake. You want to know the worst bit? During my training, he would never share any of the food he caught with me. He'd eat it in front of me and say that it was motivation for me to do better."

"It worked, didn't it?" Kagami asked.

"Yes, because I didn't want to starve." Elerion huffed. "You know, I even tried poisoning him once. He threw me into a pit full of monsters as punishment, not because I tried to poison him but because he found the attempt offensively awful. As in, he was insulted that I believe such weak poison would have any effect on him."

"In fairness," Kagami pointed out. "Most people would be happy to avoid being eaten there."

"Bah. If Doomwing was going to eat me, he'd have done it when I first showed up. It didn't take me very long to realise that, at the very least, he found training me amusing."

"What a mature attitude for a child to have. You would have been... twelve or so when this happened, right?" Kagami asked.

He nodded. "It was either get eaten by some up-jumped drake or approach him for training. At least if he ate me, I'd be eaten by a legend."

They stopped by the edge of the lake, and one of the royal guards approached with three fishing rods.

"I trust they have all been tested for magic," Elerion said.

The guardsman saluted crisply. "Yes, Your Majesty. They are free of any magic."

"What a suspicious man I've fallen in love with," Kagami drawled. "Do you really think I would go so far as to secretly enchant my fishing rod beforehand?"

He gave her a flat stare. "I love you, Kagami, but you absolutely would do that." He eased their daughter off his shoulders and gave her a grin. "As would you, Hikari."

The little girl cackled unashamedly. "Uncle Doomwing says he'll teach me a really hard to detect spell for attracting fish."

"Is that so?" Elerion scowled. "He never taught me anything like that."

"He said you'd say that, and he wanted me to tell you that he never taught you because you're awful at anything that isn't enhancement magic." Hikari giggled. "Also, he wants me to win, so he can see you suffer."

"..." Elerion rolled his eyes. "And he wonders why I don't invite him drinking but I'll take Marcus."

"It could also be due to the fact that he's gigantic and would flatten the place you're drinking in."

"That too."

The fishing trip concluded with Kagami's effortless victory and Elerion's despair. Her living legend of a lover had managed to catch a grand total of one fish. Hikari had brought in two although both had been smaller than Elerion's lone fish. Kagami, however, had brought in four fish, all of decent size. They had cooked and eaten their fish on the shores of the lake, and there was a wonderful cosiness to it that made Kagami wish she could spend more time doing things like this with the people she loved and less time ruling her people.

Alas, the Fith Age had shown that when left to their own devices, the kitsune had a tendency to make... unfortunate decisions.

In typical fashion, Hikari had eaten well and then promptly fallen asleep. Elerion was carrying her on his back as they returned to the palace. As they walked back, she could tell the exact moment he set aside Elerion the father and once more took up the mantle of Elerion the High King.

His back straightened, his eyes shone, and despite the grey in his hair, he moved with the vigour of a man in the very prime of his life. This was Elerion the Valiant, the High King who had unified more than a dozen kingdoms beneath his rule and had brought peace and prosperity to millions of people. It was also a mantle he had to wear now that they were no longer alone and were instead moving through the streets toward the palace with the royal guard clearing a path for them.

The people looked at him in awe and reverence. In their eyes, he was a living legend, a man who had survived the training of a primordial dragon and had used that training to slay a lesser dragon while still a teenager. He had won battle after battle and had proven himself against all manner of foes from dragons and hydras to vampires, werewolves, and sea monsters. As long as he lived, his people were absolutely certain that all would be well, that the peace and prosperity he had brought would continue.

But that was the thing.

For all his strengths, Elerion was still only human. His great power meant he would live longer than most men, but he would be fortunate indeed to see more than a century. His people were worried about what would happen when he passed, and they were right to be concerned. To unify his kingdoms, Elerion had taken multiple wives. Each of those wives had given him several children, which meant there were multiple people with claims to the throne he sat upon.

Of course, Elerion was no fool. He had codified the laws of succession and had publicly proclaimed Altarius, the eldest son of his first wife, as his successor. The plan was to have his other children occupy positions similar to dukes and have them govern their own kingdoms, albeit under the overall rule of Altarius himself whose kingdom was currently the largest and strongest of those that Elerion ruled. But Kagami knew how easily such intentions could be swept aside. Her mother had perished at the end of the Fifth Age, and Kagami had been her official successor.

Yet she had still been forced to fight a long and bloody battle against her siblings for rule over the kitsune. It had been a battle they could ill afford, and if not for Dreamsong's support and aid, Kagami wasn't sure she would have survived, never mind won, the battle over the succession. She feared that the moment Elerion died, a similar battle would erupt with his various children warring amongst each other for rule over the kingdoms.

Kagami had no intention of getting Hikari involved in that conflict, but that didn't mean Hikari would be able to stay out of it. Hikari was only a child now, but she was Kagami's daughter, and Kagami ruled the kitsune. Should Hikari wish, she could call upon a force equal to or greater than any of her half-siblings. To make matters more complicated, Hikari genuinely liked most of her half-siblings. If they went to war with each other... her daughter's kind heart would break.

Kagami had already informed the various factions that she had every intention of upholding Elerion's desires and backing Altarius as the next High King. She had known the young man and his mother for years now, and she was on good terms with both. There was no great romantic love between the High Queen and Elerion, but the two of them greatly respected each other and viewed each other as trustworthy friends. They matched each other well, with the High Queen handling matters at court while Elerion acted more freely. More than once, Kagami had used her own... resources to aid the High Queen, and there was a firm understanding between them that in exchange for Kagami backing Altarius, Altarius would see to it that there would always be a place for Hikari and the kitsune in the lands Elerion ruled.

Of course, that support had also made her enemies amongst the other would-be successors and their families. They viewed her as a threat, and she had no doubt that they would take more direct action once Elerion passed. But she would be ready for them, and she would make sure that Hikari was ready too. Her daughter was young, yes, but in time, she would grow stronger than any human could ever be. Kagami could feel it. Hikari was not her only child, simply the youngest, but she had the potential to surpass her other children.

If only the politics amongst the kitsune wasn't even worse than amongst the humans. As cut-throat as it could be in Elerion's court, there was a reason that Kagami rarely brought Hikari back to the kitsune homeland, and even then, she entrusted her daughter's care to Dreamsong when she couldn't see to her personally.

"You are worrying again," Elerion said quietly. "And I can tell what you're worrying about." His lips twitched. "You worry too much."

"Perhaps you don't worry enough."

"The matter of the succession has been settled, and I've also spoken to Marcus and Doomwing about it. They have agreed to enforce it. I doubt anyone wants to fight Marcus, and I know for a fact that absolutely nobody is going to pick a fight with Doomwing."

"I just..." Kagami sighed. "I worry." She looked at their daughter who was snoring away on Elerion's back. "If only people could just... get along. That would be great, wouldn't it?"

"It would be, yes." Elerion chuckled. "But people are people. Unless you make them, I doubt that'll ever happen."

Author's Notes

Famous last words, right? But, yeah, in all seriousness, Elerion did plan for his eventual death and succession as best he could. He couldn't have known that Kagami would become a Catastrophe or that Doomwing and Marcus would both be unable to take care of things for him. Doomwing almost died, and although Marcus was in much better shape, he still had to spend at least a century regathering his strength and recovering from his injuries. The only reason he was standing at the end of the battle was because someone had to take care of Doomwing, and he didn't trust anyone else to do it. That, and he was running on all the blood he'd drunk and the power his sword had consumed. It's a huge boost in power, but it's only temporary.

To make things work, Elerion married multiple women (the princesses of the various kingdoms that bowed to him). It was the only way he could think of to get them to kneel quickly and without bloodshed, and the High Queen, his first wife, even suggested it since rulers having multiple wives wasn't unheard of either. Of course, that left the door open for an eventual succession crisis, but he did his best to minimise that risk, even if it didn't work out.

Also, it's important to point out that Doomwing wasn't the one who told Hikari to call him Uncle Doomwing. No. Both Elerion and Marcus suggested it, with Kagami cheering them on. Doomwing kind of just went along with it because he finds Hikari not completely awful. He did suggest she address him as Supreme Uncle Doomwing to indicate how he was much better than all of her other uncles/aunts, but Dreamsong shot that down. He still hasn't forgiven her for that either.

Last edited: Feb 8, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 13: The Dragon Hunts

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SecretTwelve

Feb 7, 2024

#145

Chapter 13: The Dragon Hunts

Doomwing found the dryad easily enough. She was, by far, the largest tree in the area, and she was surrounded by a grove of tree folk who were the next largest trees after her. However, she had definitely seen better days. Her leaves should have been a lush, vibrant green. Instead, they were dull and waxen, and her bark was peeling in several places. The grass around her was drab and lifeless when it should have been thriving, and the tree folk were slow and lethargic in response to his approach.

Had he wished, he could have killed them long before they had any chance to defend themselves. Yet he had revealed himself early to observe their response. The tree folk took almost a minute to uproot themselves, and they moved with a strange awkwardness that had nothing to do with their size and everything to do with the odd lethargy that seemed to have stolen the strength from their limbs. The magic that stirred within them and the dryad was less potent that it ought to be, and the lack of beasts or wild animals to aid in her defence spoke volumes.

She was ailing, and she had likely been ailing for quite some time.

"I am not here to kill you," Doomwing boomed as he landed nearby. "I seek plants and young tree folk for a dryad that I have acquired." He squinted at the dryad. What was her name again? He had definitely met her before, but he didn't bother remembering the names of everyone he'd met in the past. Still, he wanted to avoid picking a fight, not because he might lose but because even a weak blow would probably be the death of this dryad. He surreptitiously cast a ninth-order spell to peer into his own memories, so he could dig up her name. "It has been a long time... Lydia."

The dryad emerged from her tree and regarded him warily. Her skin was a mottled assortment of greens, and her hair was made up of vines and leaves of different kinds. In his memories, she had been worthy of her name. She had been vibrant and full of life, seeming almost to shine and easily stealing attention even in the presence of her fellow dryads. "Are you going to tell me that I look well, Doomwing?" She paused. "I had begun to think you were dead due to the lack of explosions. It appears I was wrong."

"The Sixth Catastrophe came close to slaying me, but I emerged victorious in the end, albeit not without help." He was not so arrogant as to claim sole credit for that victory himself. "And I won't tell you that you're looking well when you very obviously look terrible."

The tree folk bristled at his words, and their wooden bodies shifted. Spiky roots emerged from the ground and barbed branches extended from their arms. Razor-sharp leaves sprouted from their backs, and several of their ponderous forms moved to occupy his blind spots. Fools. He didn't need to see them to know where they were or to destroy them.

"As blunt as ever." Lydia's eyes narrowed, twin pools of faded jade. "You said something about plants and young tree folk."

"Yes." He called up images of the plants he wanted. "I want to obtain these plants, and I would like to offer any young tree folk who are willing a place at the side of the dryad I have acquired."

"Those plants... they are here, and I can help you find them. As for the tree folk, that is up to them. The young ones are not here. They are scattered across the plains in accordance with their traditions. A few might be willing, but I would ask that you only take those who wish to go. If you are asking for young tree folk, then this dryad of yours must be young."

"She is," Doomwing replied. "And Anthracia said it would be best to get young tree folk to serve her to avoid problems in the future."

"She was right to say that," Lydia replied. "But before I show you where you may acquire the plants you seek and use my power to ensure they will survive the journey you are on, you must do something for me."

"I assume you want help with whatever has left you in this condition."

"Yes." Lydia scowled. "You know more about magic than anyone else I have met, and my problem has to do with magic. Fix it, and I'll help you."

"Hmm... that is acceptable." Doomwing reached out with his senses and cast several greater runes of scrying and detection to better examine Lydia and her surroundings. The problem was evident immediately. Dryads generally lived in places with large quantities of ambient magic. However, the currents of magic in this area were weak, not unlike rivers that had been emptied by irrigation. Since he did not remember Lydia being a fool, this must be a recent development because no sane dryad would choose to live in a place so bereft of ambient magic.

"The currents of magic in this area are weak. How long have they been this way?" Doomwing asked.

"For at least two centuries, but the problem has been getting worse and worse." Lydia pointed toward one of the huge pillars of grey stone in the distance. "That pillar controls the flow of magic in this area. I saw no reason to concern myself with it because its default settings were more than suitable for my needs. However, someone was able to change the setting. Unfortunately, I lack the power to defeat that person, and I do not understand the pillar well enough to attempt to modify it. Besides, I'm a dryad. I cannot wander too far from where I am, and this is not a task I can trust to my tree folk."

Doomwing nodded in agreement. Tree folk were stalwart defenders and were generally loyal to a fault, provided certain conditions were met. However, they were not especially intelligent, and a wise dryad knew to issue clear, simple orders. Asking them to manipulate ancient technology that had been developed by the dwarves and elves would be an exercise in futility. They could very easily make things worse, and they might even be killed if they activated the self-defence mechanisms built into the pillar.

"Who is the culprit?" Doomwing asked.

"A sky whale." The dryad snarled. "So you can see why I am unable to deal with them."

Doomwing blinked. "A sky whale?" Although sky whales were far from stupid, this was the first time he'd ever heard of one operating something like the pillar. "Are you sure?"

"I am sure!" Lydia insisted. "When they first started coming here, they simply flew from one pillar to another, feeding off the currents of magic that flowed between the earth and sky. That was fine. But one day, their leader did something to the pillar. I don't know how he did it. Perhaps it was simply a lucky accident. But ever since, the pillar has been drawing more and more magic from this area into itself and then releasing it into the air when the sky whales arrive. I am starving to death because that pillar is able to alter the flow of magic more than I can."

"The dwarves and elves did build those things quite well," Doomwing said. "I think they'd be pleased to know their device is still working so long after their deaths."

"I need you to deal with the problem," Lydia said. "If you do, I'll even throw in a bonus."

"Oh?" Doomwing was curious to know what she deemed a 'bonus'.

"The wolves who invaded these plains were so dangerous because they were able to find a way to ascend from regular giant wolves into flare wolves. Help me, and I'll tell you how they did it."

"They ascended?" Doomwing bared his teeth in a smile. His construct had kept him apprised of Antaria's doings since his departure. She was busy enforcing her tyrannical rule on the monsters in his territory as befitted a princess. Quite a few of those monsters were giant wolves, and being able to turn them into flare wolves - wolves who could wrap themselves in flames and use various kinds of fire magic - would be quite handy. Antaria had also gotten the villagers started on a new set of crops with Daphne's help. Unlike their old crops, these new crops were going to be planted and harvested according to the superior methods that had existed during the previous Age. "Very well. I'll help you." His smile widened. "I've been looking forward to eating a sky whale or two."

"Great. They should be here any day now."

Fortune smiled on Doomwing, for the sky whales arrived the very next day.

He observed them from above the clouds, his presence concealed by runes. There was an entire pod of them, thirty in all. The youngest were newborn calves who couldn't have measured more than thirty feet in length. They stayed close to their mothers whilst the bulls formed a defensive perimeter, ready to act the moment a threat revealed itself. Most of the bulls were between a thousand to two thousand feet in length. Flying ahead of the group was the largest of them all, an absolutely gigantic sky whale that was even larger than Doomwing was. That whale had to be a mile and a half long, and he must be an old bull, given his colouration and the almost metallic sheen of the horns on his head.

There were different species of sky whale, but this particular species was known for being carnivorous. They used their powerful jaws to tear chunks out of other fliers. Their horns were a series of bony spikes that protruded from the top of their head, almost like teeth. They weren't very long, but they weren't designed to be used like the horns of a unicorn or the antlers of stag. Instead, these whales would ram into their opponents at full speed, driving their horns deep into the body of their opponent before ripping them free with a violent twist of their head. That would leave the opponent with a massive, gaping wound, which would either kill them outright or drive them out of the air.

More than one dragon had met their end after underestimating these whales. True, they lacked a dragon's agility in the air, but their straight line speed was impressive over short distances, and their sheer size and weight made them fearsome opponents. Indeed, they were one of the few creatures of the sky who routinely grew larger than dragons.

But Doomwing had hunted whale like this before although the leader of their pod was easily the largest he'd ever encountered. It made him feel like a hatchling again. He could still remember his first sky whale hunt. He'd been young and eager and stupid, and he'd barely managed to fly home with a broken leg and dozens of cracked scales after a bull had clipped him. Even so, he'd managed his first kill, and the delicious taste and feeling of victory had soothed his aches and pains.

The keys to hunting sky whales like this were to strike hard and fast and to stay in a position that made it awkward for the whale to fight back. Dragons had their teeth, claws, and flame as their primary weapons, but they also had access to magic and could even use their wings and tail in a fight. A sky whale was most dangerous when it could bite its foes or ram them. Yes, they had magic, but they were often slow to use anything outside of enhancement magic, and they generally had difficulty aiming it at something they couldn't see.

Doomwing licked his lips in anticipation. It would be easy to kill the sky whales with his magic. They wouldn't even sense him until it was already too late. However, he had not come this far to cheat himself of the thrill of the hunt. Besides, killing all of them would be stupid. A pod like this was far too much for even him to eat. He could kill the leader, fix the pillar, and then give the rest of the pod time to grow before hunting down another old bull in a century or two. It wasn't as though they'd cause more trouble for Lydia. Once he killed the leader, they would avoid this place like the plague.

The pod settled over the pillar, and Doomwing watched as the old bull's magic reached out to the pillar. The pillar responded, and magic spilled out of it. The sky whales devoured it greedily, and the bull made a sound of satisfaction that was close to the ponderous rumble of a thunderstorm. Doomwing grinned. Imagine that. The sky whale really was manipulating the pillar. Whether it was instinct, intelligence, or plain luck, it was still impressive.

He let the old bull eat his fill of the magic. Doomwing wanted him at full strength.

With a thunderous roar, Doomwing dispelled the magic that concealed him and flared his wings.

"You've eaten your fill, but now it's my turn!"

He dove as the sky whales scattered, the younger bulls splitting into groups to safeguard the cows and calves. Doomwing smiled inwardly. This pod was truly impressive. Splitting into groups would maximise the chances of at least some members of the pod surviving. Indeed, many predators would be confused by the tactic and struggle to choose which group to chase after, allowing all of them to escape. Only the old bull remained, the mile-and-a-half-long monster turning upward to face him.

The sky whale did not speak with words. He could not. Instead, he projected thoughts filled with pure aggression and rage straight at Doomwing's mind. A lesser dragon would have flinched beneath the onslaught, maybe even retreated. Doomwing laughed. It had been so long since he'd fought someone who wasn't afraid of him, even if the whale was a fool who should have known better.

"Till death then!" Doomwing boomed. "In the old way."

Doomwing dispelled the multitude of magical defences he kept woven around himself and cancelled the attack magic he had prepared. The sky whale wanted to face him in a contest of physical combat. It was foolish, given all Doomwing was capable of, but his blood was burning, and only this sort of primal violence would satisfy it. Forget the time-honoured tactics he knew. Forget the careful analysis of strengths and weaknesses he was famed for. And forget stealth, subterfuge, or trickery.

This was a fight, a battle of teeth and claws against teeth and horns.

The two of them met in the sky over the pillar and the shockwave of the impact flattened the grass below them and shattered the clouds nearby. The whale's horns scraped along his scales, and Doomwing roared with delight and rage as he clawed at the whale's head and body. The whale tried to bite down on his limbs, but Doomwing kept them clear of the snapping jaws. The whale's fins and flippers flapped, and the beast drove them higher into the air. Doomwing could have tried to disengage and jockey for a better position. Instead, he clung onto the whale, slashing with his claws, biting anything he could reach, and whipping the bull with his tail.

The whale roared in pain, and a savage jerk of his body sent Doomwing tumbling away. He righted himself just in time to see the whale charging toward him like a flying mountain. He twisted aside at the last moment, the scales on belly shrieking as the whale's horns scraped against them. At the same time, he twisted and drove his claws into the whale's back, allowing the massive creature's own momentum to carve deep furrows into the hardened slabs of flesh there. Blood poured from the wounds and fell onto the ground like bloody rain, and Doomwing dove to try to take advantage of the whale's injuries.

The whale met him with his tail, and Doomwing spun away, jaw stinging from the force of the impact. How long had it been since he'd taken a hit like that? Not since the Sixth Catastrophe, and that had been magic, not pure, physical force. The whale charged again, but Doomwing was ready. He dodged cleanly this time, and he went beneath the whale, tearing into his underbelly and ripping at his fins and flippers. Yet the whale was so huge that he barely seemed to even feel the wounds

He rounded on Doomwing and dropped out of the sky like a hammer. Even with his speed and agility, Doomwing could not avoid the strike entirely. It caught his left arm, and the limb would have broken if he hadn't rolled with the strike, spinning like a barrel to rob the blow of its force and then using the momentum of his spin to lash out with his tail. The strike hit the whale on the face, and he felt something give way. But rather than be stunned by what was probably a fractured skull, the old bull just got madder.

"Magnificent," Doomwing bellowed. "How old are you, I wonder? You have to be at least an Age old to be this size and this strong. I remember my father warning me when I was only a hatchling that for all our size and strength, a sky whale like you might be stronger in purely physical terms. I didn't believe him, and I suffered for my foolishness. But you sky whales are all strength. Where is your agility, your cunning, your technique?"

The sky whale didn't answer. He attacked.

Doomwing could have used magic to enhance himself. The whale certainly was, now that he was clearly losing, but Doomwing wanted to enjoy this. The moment he used enhancement magic, the battle would end, and he was having fun.

What followed next was like a game of tag between a colossal dragon and an even more colossal whale. Over and over again, the whale would charge, and each time, Doomwing would dodge, landing a few blows before he broke off, only to repeat the process when the whale attacked again. Slowly but surely, the whale was bleeding out, the impact of each wound adding up until he could barely keep himself aloft. Doomwing had taken a few hits himself, but he was beaming, his blood running hot and exultant in his veins.

"You're just about finished, aren't you?" Doomwing murmured.

The old bull stared back at him, defiant despite the certainty of his defeat. Doomwing inclined his head. He could respect that. With a pained groan, the sky whale readied himself for another charge. It was likely the last real charge he could make, given his dwindling strength. So be it. Doomwing would end the battle now. He would give the whale the honour of dying at his claws instead of simply bleeding out.

The whale charged, but this time, Doomwing moved forward to meet him. He contorted himself at the last moment in a way only a dragon could, and then he drove his claw into the sky whale's eye socket. The blow pulped the bull's brain, and Doomwing wrenched his claw free and beat his wings to gain some height as he watched the sky whale plummet toward the ground below. The whale struck the ground with a terrible thump, and Doomwing dragged in several deep breaths. Blood was splattered across his scales, and more of it dripped from his claws, his teeth, and his tail.

He felt more alive than he had in centuries.

"Now to fix the pillar and then I can eat."

His gaze shifted to a group of riders approaching the downed whale. Ah. That was probably Derzu and his people. Well, they could wait until Doomwing was done eating before they got have any of the remains. Hmm... the whale had been a worthy foe. He would keep some of his heart to give to Antaria. The princess should be strong enough to survive eating it. If not, well, there were a few techniques that he could teach her that should allow her to survive. It could be yet another lesson. Moreover, eating even a small portion of such a mighty sky whale's heart should increase her strength and stamina. His lips curled. She'd have to eat it raw, though, because cooking it would only reduce its potency. That should be fun to watch.

Author's Notes

Having to eat raw sky whale heart? Yeah. Antaria's grudge against Doomwing is going to be the size of a mountain by the time her training is done. On the upside, it will definitely help her, assuming she has progressed far enough to digest it properly, and it's not like she could have killed it herself. Doomwing is actually being really generous in sharing it... if only because it'll make his life easier and because he think it will be hilarious watching her eat it. What a nice dragon.

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SecretTwelve

Feb 7, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 14: The Dragon Learns Something Interesting

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SecretTwelve

Feb 9, 2024

#155

Chapter 14: The Dragon Learns Something Interesting

Doomwing was mildly amused by the enthusiasm the goblins showed as they clambered all over the corpse of the colossal sky whale. He had already eaten his share and used his magic to store whatever he felt was worth keeping. However, there was still plenty left. The older a dragon became, the more adept they grew at absorbing ambient magic and using it to fuel their metabolism.

In theory, Doomwing didn't even need to eat. If he found a place with enough magic, he could just snooze away the centuries without a care in the world. He'd chosen his volcano and carefully manipulated its surroundings to ensure that it could completely support him for thousands of years if necessary. Every other primordial dragon he knew had taken similar steps to craft a suitable lair although his was obviously the best.

"Come on," Derzu shouted. "No dawdling. There's no telling when trouble will show up, so we need to grab whatever we can as quickly as we can."

Doomwing chuckled as the wizened goblin scaled the sky whale's side with surprising agility before taking a giant cleaver to the blubber that had been exposed by one of the Doomwing's strikes. The goblins had already learned that the cetacean's hide was too tough for their weapons to pierce. They could damage it if they pooled their magic, but they would run out of power long before leaving any wounds large enough for proper harvesting.

Instead, the goblins had taken advantage of the gaping wounds that had been left by Doomwing's claws and teeth, using them like tunnels in a mine to harvest the bounty before them. They might not be strong, but they were clever and hardworking, and there was value to that.

"Mighty Doomwing," Derzu asked. "Would I be able to ask a favour of you?"

Doomwing was enjoying the spectacle, so he nodded. "What do you want?"

"Would you be able to slice the whale open there." Derzu pointed. "It would help us a lot."

"That is easy enough." Doomwing's claws flashed, and a section of the whale's back split open. "There."

"Thank you." Derzu bowed deeply. "We've harvested sky whales before, but they were all far smaller than this one. And you slew it without your magic or fire?"

"It wouldn't have been fun otherwise." Doomwing laughed. "It has been a long time since I faced a whale his size. He was a worthy opponent, for all that I bested him. Most of his kind would have fled when they saw me. He stood his ground and even landed a few blows of his own." He licked his lips. "His heart was excellent, as befitted an old, tough bull like him."

Derzu continued hacking away at the blubber. Like all the goblins, he had a pouch with him. The pouches were bigger on the inside than the outside although they could only carry so much, given their reliance on fifth-order magic. From what he'd seen so far, the goblins could only have made those pouches by working together and performing rituals as a group. To have so many of them suggested decades of effort, especially since the materials used to make the pouches could not be easy to come by out on the plains.

"How much will you take?" Doomwing asked curiously.

"As much as we can carry," Derzu said, grinning from ear to ear. "It's a shame that we can't take it all, but we'll be taking the best of what you left behind. The blubber and flesh will be able to feed us for years if we preserve them properly, the bones, teeth, and horns can be made into weapons and tools, the hide can be used for armour, and the remaining organs can be used for rituals and potions." He saluted Doomwing with his cleaver. "You've left us a king's ransom, mighty Doomwing."

"A king's ransom for you, but a pittance for me." Doomwing's power had grown to the point where even a whale this strong could only feed his hunger, not boost his strength. "But in exchange, I want your people to keep track of what happens on the plains. I will stop by regularly or send someone in my stead. Also, if there are any goblins or centaurs who might be interested in leaving the plains…"

"Hmm." Derzu nodded slowly. "There are always a few who wish to leave. Most of them wander off to seek adventure on their own or join one of the mercenary bands that passes through from time to time."

"Oh?"

"There are kingdoms to the south of us. They're a mixed bunch – plenty of humans, beast people, goblins, orcs, and others. They spend most of their time warring with each other, so there's plenty of work for mercenaries. Every now and then, we'll get mercenaries passing through to recruit."

"They don't give you trouble?" Doomwing asked.

"They tried. But we are the same people who drove off the wolves. We made it clear that trouble would not be tolerated."

Doomwing bared his teeth. "Good." His attention shifted to the sky. He'd dallied here long enough. "I will be leaving now, goblin. I suggest having your centaur companions keep a close eye on the skies. My presence here has deterred wyverns, drakes, and other fliers from daring to approach the corpse. They will come once I am gone."

"Thank you for the warning," Derzu said. "We'll have spearmen and bowmen ready. If anything too strong comes along, we'll just run. We've already got plenty. There's no point in dying just to get a little more." He bowed again. "May fortune favour you, mighty Doomwing."

Doomwing chuckled. "We make our own fortune, goblin. Never forget that."

He arrived back at Lydia's tree. The dryad had a savage smile on her face.

"I saw your battle with the sky whale through the eyes of some of my tree folk who were closer to the pillar." Her smile grew inhumanly wide. "It was… pleasing."

"How bloodthirsty," Doomwing drawled.

"I have been starved of magic for at least two centuries, dragon. I am glad to see that wretched creature dead." Lydia chortled. "And knowing his body is getting chopped up by the goblins only adds to my amusement."

His lips curled. Dryads were rarely this vicious, but he couldn't say it displeased him. "And the flow of magic?"

"Much better now that you've fixed the pillar." Lydia took a deep breath. Her tree and dryad body were already visibly healthier. The various shades of green and brown that dominated both were deeper and more vivid. It would take time for her to regain the striking appearance she had in his older memories, but just a few hours had made a noticeable difference. "It felt like I was gasping for air but unable to take a full breath. Now… now, I can breathe easy."

"I ate most of the sky whale's heart," Doomwing said. "But would you like a portion of the remainder?"

The gleam in her jade eyes was greedy. She wanted it. Badly. "Do you offer it freely, or is there a price to pay?"

"You mentioned the wolves in this area ascending. You swore to tell me how they did it if I aided you. If you want some of the sky whale's heart, I want you to give me a communication seed. Aid and advise the dryad in my service. She is… young but not without potential."

"That is easy enough." Lydia tossed him a seed. "There. I assume you have one from her."

"Yes." Doomwing gave her one of Daphne's communication seeds. "Most dryads live in forests. However, Daphne prefers to live amongst fields. It is not the same, but I expect you to pass on whatever wisdom you may have about living on the plains, as opposed to in a forest.

"Yes, yes." Lydia reached out with both hands. "The sky whale's heart – give me a portion."

He brought forward a portion of the sky whale's heart. It was a chunk the size of several cattle put together. The dryad was practically drooling as she directed her tree folk to haul the chunk forward.

"Wonderful," she murmured. "Not only is it fresh but it also comes from such a powerful sky whale."

"Out of curiosity," Doomwing asked. "What will consuming this do for you? I know it will help, but I am not aware of the specifics."

"For most people, eating a sky whale's heart bestows some portion of its strength and stamina. For dryads, though, it allows us to wander further from our trees and to more rapidly expand the reach of our roots. I suspect we draw more upon the wandering aspect of sky whales than their strength and stamina."

"Interesting…" Doomwing could see how useful that would be. He would have to give some to Daphne later. "But if that is the case, why don't more dryads hunt sky whales?"

"Well, most of us cannot fly and do not have many fliers in our service. Yes, tree folk can throw rocks or perhaps make bows or spears from their bodies, but sky whales are hardy beasts who are seldom close to the ground. Moreover, the effect is much weaker for dryads who are rooted in forests rather than in more open areas. It may be due to how tightly bound they are to the forests they rule. Yes, they get a considerable boost in strength while in their forests, but they also suffer greatly if they try to leave."

That was also good to know. The strongest of the Daughter Trees had the power to threaten him although he would favour himself in battle over any of them. Their biggest weakness was their lack of mobility, so it was good to know that they couldn't simply eat a sky whale's heart and then go rampaging around.

He shuddered. If Mother Tree had been able to uproot and move… they would not have won that battle, and she would have swatted him out of the sky with her branches.

"How will you consume it?" Doomwing asked.

"Like this." Vines and roots wrapped around the chunk of the sky whale's heart and dragged it into a pit that Lydia had created with her magic. "Now, I may consume it at my leisure."

"Interesting. Now, about the wolves. How did they ascend?"

"They found a phoenix egg."

Doomwing stared. "What?"

Lydia smirked. "They found a phoenix egg."

"That is…" Doomwing straightened. "Remarkable."

Phoenixes were even rarer than dragons. They had been born at the end of the First Age. Through a process he still didn't understand, some of the bursts of god-fire that had marked the deaths of the First Gods had given rise to avian creatures. They were not gods, and they could not use the divine runes or primordial runes that the First Gods had possessed. Mother Tree had believed that phoenixes were born from the desperate desire of the First Gods to live, that the god-fire that marked their passing had done its best to express that final, frantic desire.

It would explain why phoenixes never truly died. Even if a phoenix was destroyed utterly, it would eventually return, hatching from an egg-like construct wrought of ineffable magics that were the closest Doomwing had ever seen to the long-lost runes of the First Gods. However, their rebirths came at a cost. It could take them thousands of years to return, and their 'egg' would always appear in a place of dense magical energy. If the egg was removed from that environment, it would slow the phoenix's rebirth. Less scrupulous individuals had even found ways to keep phoenixes trapped in that nascent state, so they could harvest their energy.

The mad vampire necromancer of the Fourth Age had kept a trio of such eggs, using their essences to boost his strength and render him immune to the few weaknesses that ancient vampires possessed. Stealing those eggs and helping those phoenixes hatch, so they could extract their pound of flesh had been a critical part of their plan to defeat the Fourth Catastrophe. They had left after the battle, and Doomwing had never seen them again.

"Where did they get it?" Doomwing asked urgently. "And do they still have it?"

"I don't know where they got it, but they still have it. After the wolves were beaten back by the goblins and centaurs, they fled into the foothills at the edge of the plains." Lydia pointed. "If you fly that way, you should run into them."

"And you never tried to take the egg for yourself?" Doomwing asked. "You could have grown strong from it."

"The egg was so low on energy that I could barely sense it, and by then, it was too late. The wolves had carried it far beyond my domain." Lydia's lips curled. "What was I to do then? Tell the goblins and centaurs?"

"No," Doomwing said quickly. "Power like that… they do not seem like evil people, but that sort of power can turn even good men into monsters. Better for it to remain unknown, for secrecy to be its shield." He inclined his head. "You have my thanks for telling me."

"What will you do?"

"Retrieve it," Doomwing said bluntly. "It cannot be left in their hands. Since all they were able to do was ascend into flare wolves, they are either not smart enough to harness its full power or do not know what it is. I will take it for myself."

"And then…?"

Lydia was likely asking if he would consume the egg. Dragons had done that in the past, and they had grown stronger from doing so. However, Doomwing was far beyond the point where such a weakened, depleted egg would increase his power. Moreover, he had known a few phoenixes in the Second Age. By and large, they were reasonable folk. Indeed, they had taken an intense interest in the weaker species, such as elves, dwarves, and so on.

He also knew that they changed with each rebirth. Yes, they often regained their memories, but their personalities were heavily influenced by the experiences they had after being reborn. If he could hatch the phoenix and then raise it properly, it would be able to aid him in establishing his empire.

Heh.

He could already imagine the look on Marcus's face when he eventually visited and saw a phoenix serving Doomwing. Phoenixes were also good at using their fire to create things, rather than destroy them, perhaps due to their connection to the First Gods.

Wait…

His mind raced. He was hoping to sway the dwarves to his cause, assuming they weren't crazy or evil. There were so many things that dwarves excelled at, such as metal work, masonry, road building, and general engineering that would be useful to his domain. If he had a phoenix egg, he could dangle the possibility of working with a phoenix's flames in front of them.

No dwarf would be able to resist.

His greed must have shown because Lydia took a wary step back.

"That look on your face right now…"

Doomwing flexed his wings. "I will be going to retrieve the egg before speaking to the dwarves. After that, I have a few more plants to gather, but they should not take long. In a week at most, I will return. Have the plants I need gathered by then, along with any tree folk who are willing to come serve the dryad I have."

"You still haven't told me what you plan to do with the egg," Lydia insisted.

"I plan to hatch it," Doomwing said. "I even have the perfect place for it too. After all, what better place could there be for a phoenix to be reborn than a volcano?"

Author's Notes

Doomwing's greed is showing. He's like that gamer who goes on every side quest and collects everything.

I almost feel bad for the wolves. They're not going to like him running off with the egg, but it's not really going to matter what they think.

For those of you who're curious, Doomwing isn't carrying all the plants around himself yet because many of them need a dryad's power to survive transportation due to their special nature. Once he is at the end of his 'trip' he'll grab the plants at the end and then double back, grabbing the others on his way home. However, it was important for him to speak with the dryads and get their approval because he needs their help for this. He's also a bit curious to see how the world has changed.

Last edited: Feb 9, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 15: The Dragon Claims His Prize

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SecretTwelve

Feb 10, 2024

#164

Chapter 15: The Dragon Claims His Prize

Doomwing found the phoenix egg easily enough. It was precisely where Lydia had said it would be. The wolves had carried it into the foothills, and the egg was hidden in a large cave the pack had claimed for their den. He might have missed it if he hadn't known to look for it, the egg was so drained of energy, but he had encountered phoenix eggs before. It was subtle, but they carried a certain presence that reminded him of the First Gods.

He stopped in the air above the cave and let magic carry his voice into the cave below.

"You know what I want. Hand over the egg, and you may live. Refuse and you will die."

He had dealt with ascended wolves in the past. Despite their increased intelligence, they were much the same as their lesser kin. They respected strength above all else, and they would see any attempt to bargain as weakness. Fools. Dragons did not bargain out of weakness. They did so as a courtesy. To reject an offer was to welcome combat.

The wolves did not reply, and Doomwing cast a greater rune of scrying upon the cave. His molten blood burned with volcanic rage when he saw what was happening. The leader of the pack, a male flare wolf that was roughly the size of a small house, had the egg in his jaws and was trying to eat it. Only the egg's innate durability and dwindling power had kept it from being devoured, but it would not last much longer.

Doomwing snarled, and the currents of ambient magic in the area twisted and coiled like duelling snakes.

He dared?

Fool.

There were would be no bargaining now.

Only death.

All dragons could breathe fire. However, different types of dragons had access to other forms of breath attack. Frost dragons could also breathe ice. Storm dragons could also breathe lightning. Doomwing was a nova dragon. Apart from fire, he could breathe raw force. It was like striking his enemies with a massive sledgehammer. When he used his force breath, his enemies didn't burn. They were reduced to pulp, simultaneously crushed and exploded.

Of course, like any self-respecting dragon, he had honed his breath attack. He was capable of so much more than brute force. His breath attack was, for all intents and purposes, a form of telekinesis. Yes, it was easier to just smash things with it, but he had learned to use it for tasks that would otherwise be very difficult, like manipulating small or delicate objects. Over the years, his mastery had grown to the point of absurdity. In the same way that a primordial inferno dragon could simply will fire into existence instead of having to breath it out of their mouth, Doomwing could generate telekinetic force through his will alone.

Of course, the forces he could generate were still greater when unleashed in the form of a breath attack. And it was a pity that all of the Catastrophes he'd fought had possessed abilities that rendered them immune to certain more… direct uses of his telekinesis. His life would have been so much easier otherwise.

The wolves had no such abilities, and Doomwing was not in a merciful mood.

He took a single deep breath, and the ground beneath him buckled and tore upward. He ripped the top of the cave off and heaved it aside. Suddenly exposed to the open sky, the flare wolves stared up at him in a combination of awe and terror. The smarter ones tried to flee while the leader tried to crush the egg in his jaws.

None of them moved.

None of them could.

They were all held in place by Doomwing's power. This was the reason he rarely used his telekinesis in battle. It took all the joy out of it. Lesser creatures like these wolves had no chance of resisting it whatsoever.

He took another breath and wrenched the egg out of the leader's mouth. If the wolf's head came apart in a burst of mangled flesh and bone, well, he shouldn't have tried to eat what was Doomwing's. The other wolves remained frozen in place, and Doomwing flexed his power and exhaled. The wolves exploded, and he took a moment to savour the carnage he had wrought.

It was a pity that all of the Catastrophes he'd fought had possessed enough strength, as well as a number of more exotic abilities, that simply exploding them was impossible. Oh, he'd tried, but they wouldn't have been Catastrophes if they could be killed that easily. Instead, he'd been forced to use his telekinetic breath in other ways – like concentrating all of his flames into the equivalent of a super-thin, super-sharp, ultra-high speed drill of pure heat.

That had been fun although it was ridiculous overkill for anything that wasn't at least as strong as a primordial dragon.

With the wolves dead and the egg in his possession, Doomwing took a moment to study the egg properly. The egg was a perfect sphere that was roughly three feet in diameter. It should have been surrounded by a corona of heat so intense that the wolves should have burned alive long before being able to touch it, and its surface should have resembled polished rock.

Instead, the egg was almost cool to the touch, and its surface resembled the cracked earth common to drought-stricken lands. If Doomwing had arrived even a month later, the egg would no longer be salvageable. The phoenix inside it would have died again, and the egg would have shattered, only to reform elsewhere.

Fury stirred in his veins at the mere thought of being denied such a prize by a pack of wolves.

The wolves had either gotten incredibly lucky by stumbling across the egg only moments after it had formed, or someone of far greater power had somehow managed to lose it. In either case, the wolves hadn't known how to properly harness the egg's power. They could have taken the egg to a proper place of power and used the power it absorbed there to fuel further ascensions. Instead, they had taken the egg to these foothills where the currents of magic were weak and unstable. No wonder the egg was in such poor condition.

Doomwing wove greater runes of protection around the egg and then allowed his magic to flow into it. The egg responded immediately, and the faint presence within it turned to him the way a flower turned to the sun or a man dying of thirst turned his face up to catch the rain in his mouth. The egg latched onto his magic and devoured it with almost draconic hunger. Doomwing had to moderate the flow of power, lest the egg consume too much too quickly and destroy itself.

As it drew more and more power into itself, the phoenix egg took on a different appearance. Instead of a cracked lump of rock, it now resembled a black opal – mostly black but studded here and there with radiant flashes of vivid colour, ranging from orange and red to blue, yellow, and green. His curved up into a smile.

This was the egg of a stellar phoenix.

Just as there were different types of dragons, there were different types of phoenixes. He had only met a stellar phoenix once. She had joined them in the fight against the Third Catastrophe and had departed shortly after his defeat. She had been a glorious creature, wreathed in stellar fire and with feathers like the night sky. She had called a torrent of stars from the heavens to bombard the leviathans and krakens that had raged in the seas below them.

Was this the same phoenix? Perhaps.

In any case, he could not be happier with his prize. A stellar phoenix could not only produce flames of immense heat but their flames also carried the power of the stars with them. What exactly that meant would depend on which stars in particular the stellar phoenix was associated with, and that would only be revealed once the phoenix hatched and got more acquainted with her powers.

Yes. He was certain the phoenix within the egg was female. He had met both male and female phoenixes over the years, and their presences were subtlety different.

He would take good care of her, and in return, she would help tend to his lands and the people fortunate enough to call him their ruler. But that was for later. For now, he would continue to feed the egg his power until he could take it to his volcano. There, the egg would be able to safely absorb vast quantities of magic until it was ready to hatch.

And now, with the egg safely in his possession, it was time to seek out the dwarves.

The dwarves had founded a settlement along another edge of the plains, amidst a series of rugged foothills not unlike where Doomwing had found the wolves. However, the dwarves had not been content to simply hide in a cave. Instead, they had carved their homes into the hillsides, using the rock and stone to shelter themselves from weather and intruders.

Their settlement was located near a series of excavations that delved deep into the hills. Some of those hills had even been cut open to better expose what the dwarves had found. Doomwing had been right. They had found a relic from the Third Age.

It was a sky ship, one of the marvels that the dwarves and elves of that age had created to sail through the clouds. From what Doomwing could see, the sky ship had been broken into several pieces that the dwarves were excavating with painstaking care. Using magic to get a better grasp of the area and of the broken sky ship, Doomwing used more magic to search his memories.

Yes.

He had encountered this ship before. It had been one of many that had fallen in the final battle against the Third Catastrophe. It was a… destroyer, or so the dwarves had called it, a vessel designed for speed, mobility, and endurance. From his memories, such ships had often escorted larger vessels and had protected them from a wide variety of threats. The mightiest sky ships of that Age had possessed weaponry that not even a dragon could ignore, but they had been vulnerable to swarms of lesser foes. Destroyers like the ruined sky ship the dwarves had found had often been asked to protect them, so they could focus their power on larger threats.

Since Doomwing had no intention of attacking the dwarves unless they did something stupid, he flew openly, allowing them to see him long before he arrived. To their credit, the dwarves refrained from any foolishness. Their magic could not harm them, nor could the siege weapons and magical devices they had. Instead, they sent a roc rider out to greet him, the giant bird looking even less comfortable to be sharing the sky with him than the dwarf upon his back.

"Greeting," Doomwing said. "I am Doomwing."

The dwarf must have recognised his name because he turned even paler. "Oh." He shook himself. "Uh… Great Doomwing, may I ask why you are here?"

"I'm not here to kill you all, if that's what you're worried about."

The dwarf sagged in relief. "Thank the ancestors…" He took a deep breath. "Is there something you need then? There aren't many of us here, but we're good at what we do. If you need something made, we'd be happy to lend what aid we can."

It went unspoken that they would be lending their aid with the understanding that he would continue to be a nice, reasonable dragon.

"I find myself curious about that sky ship you're digging out of the ground. I would like to see it and to talk with your leader." Doomwing paused and then smiled. The dwarf and the roc both recoiled. "It has been a very, very long time since I saw the Stalwart Guard."

"The… Stalwart Guard…?" The dwarf's eyes widened. "You know it?"

"Yes. I was there when it fell at the end of the Third Age."

The dwarf's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Then you know how to fix it?"

"I may or I may not," Doomwing replied. "Now, will your leader meet with me?"

"Of course!" The dwarf nodded eagerly. "Follow me! My father would be happy to speak with you if you can tell us anything about the sky ship!"

Doomwing landed near the settlement and waited for the leader of the dwarves to meet with him. He was too large to easily fit amidst the foothills, and it would have been rude to crush their homes without provocation. Besides, he wanted these dwarves to join him. In the long run, it was far better to win people over than to terrorise them into compliance.

The leader of the dwarves emerged soon after, riding from the settlement atop an irritable-looking mountain goat. He had brought a small honour guard with him, but they kept their distance as the leader dismounted and walked over.

Like most dwarves, he was short but broad-shouldered, his thickly muscled form covered in masterfully crafted armour. He carried a metal spear in one hand and a shield in the other, but he set both aside as he approached. In accordance with dwarven custom, he also removed his helm and his gauntlets to show that he meant no harm – not that he could harm Doomwing.

"Welcome, Great Doomwing." The leader of the dwarves was an older dwarf. However, his back was straight, and his eyes were keen. "My ancestors told stories of you, but I think they might have understated your size."

"I have grown since the end of the Sixth Age," Doomwing replied. "To whom do I speak?"

"I am Prince Harald," the dwarf said. "Formerly of the Sky Claw Mountains."

"Formerly?" Doomwing chuckled. "What an interesting thing to say."

"It's an interesting story," Harald replied. "But my son told me you know about the ship we've found."

"It's a sky ship of the Third Age," Doomwing said. "Its name is – or was – Stalwart Guard. The dwarves at the time classified it as a destroyer, a ship meant to guard larger vessels and known for its speed, mobility, and endurance."

"Stalwart Guard?" Harald nodded to himself. "We weren't too far off the mark then…"

"Oh?"

"We cannot properly read the writing on the hull, but some of the characters are similar to those we still use. We thought the name to be something like Determined Defender."

"Not a bad translation," Doomwing replied. "Although not wholly accurate."

"Aye." Harald ran one hand through his beard. "But you saw it, back when it could still fly?" His voice was filled with longing. "And there were others like it? You… you said it guarded larger vessels. What were those like?"

Doomwing considered his options for a moment and then smiled. "I could show you if you like, but you'd have to trust me."

"Show me?" Harald swallowed thickly. "You could actually show me what this ship was like?"

"Not just this ship. I could show you the last and greatest sky fleet of the Third Age."

"Would I be harmed if you showed me?" Harald asked. "I have a responsibility to my people. I… I greatly wish to see what you've spoken of, but I will not take any undue risks."

"You will not be harmed." Doomwing leaned forward. "Tell me, Prince Harald, formerly of the Sky Claw Mountains, why are you out here? Why is a prince in such a desolate place with perhaps only a few hundred followers?" Doomwing had his suspicions, but Harald's answer would help him craft a suitable plan to win over the dwarves.

"What do you know of how dwarves view twins?" Harald asked.

"In previous Ages, twins were viewed as bad luck," Doomwing replied. "I believe that view stems from some… unpleasantness in the Second Age where one of the great dwarf kings had twin sons who got into a succession dispute that ended with thousands dead and the kingdom in flames."

Harald blinked. "That… I did not know." He shook himself. "In any case, you're right about one thing. Twins are viewed as bad luck amongst dwarves, and it is often said that the younger twin must be watched closely, in case they plot against the elder to steal what isn't theirs."

"And you must be the younger twin."

"Aye." Harald nodded. "My older brother is the king of the dwarves who dwell in the Sky Claw Mountains. He is a good man, and we were close growing up. But as we grew older, I was often approached by those who disliked their place in life."

"I'm not sure whether I should find that sort of audacity infuriating or amusing. I assume you refused their offers."

"I did." Harald smiled proudly. "I love my brother, and I knew he would be a good king. I had no desire to betray him. To his credit, my brother never believed I would turn against him. He appointed me as his chief advisor and gave me many important duties. However, that didn't stop the talk…"

"Just the fact that you were approached made some distrust you."

"That's right. And over time, that talk grew harder and harder for my brother to ignore. He was king, but his power was not absolute. His supporters did not trust me, and he feared that the day was fast approaching when they would call for more… strident measures to be taken, perhaps even without his permission."

Doomwing snorted. "Or perhaps they simply disliked the influence you had on your brother and wished to remove you, so they could replace you with someone else."

"Aye. That likely played a part too. When it became clear that either my brother would be forced to act or someone else would, I told my brother that I would leave the mountains. I have always had an interest in our ancient past, and one of our scouts had found a few bits and pieces in this area. I told him I would lead an expedition out here to see what could be found." Harald smiled bitterly. "He didn't want me to leave. I could see it in his eyes. But I could also see how glad he was to have an answer to his problems. Not even the most zealous of his supporters could find fault with my leaving. Out here, I don't have to worry about malcontents seeking me out, nor is it easy for my enemies to smuggle in assassins and saboteurs. I am, for all intents and purposes, out of sight and out of mind."

Doomwing gave a low rumble of respect. "I cannot say that you made the best choice, but I cannot say that it was a bad choice either. Sometimes, there are no good choices."

"Aye." Harald's gaze grew distant. "My brother was a sickly child growing up, not much given to battle or even the arts of the forge. But he always had a good head on his shoulders. He knew how to make things run smoothly and how to help others excel. It was why I knew he'd be a good king. But it was why his enemies always looked to me for support." Harald clenched his fists. "I'm one of the best fighters amongst the dwarves, even in my old age, and there are precious few who can match me at the forge. In a time of war, I'd be a much better king than my brother, but we aren't at war, and I have no desire to steal his birthright from him."

"It is different for dragons," Doomwing replied. "Strength is what matters. We only keep what we have the strength to take and hold for ourselves."

"You must have a lot then."

"I would show you my hoard, but it would drive you to madness."

Doomwing wasn't lying about that either. Dwarves could be almost as greedy as dragons, and the one time he'd shown the full extent of his hoard to a dwarf, he'd been forced to wipe his memory of it afterward to prevent him from going mad. Ragnar had been a good friend, but the dwarf had been absolutely obsessed with magical weapons, and Doomwing had more than he knew what to do with. He'd gifted Ragnar with a fine axe that had been made in the First Age to make up for it although he'd very deliberately lied about the weapon's origins, saying it was the only one he had, and not part of an armoury Doomwing had seized in the Second Age.

"It might be worth it," Harald said. "But about the sky ship, you said you could show me it and many others, and that I would not be harmed."

"I would cast a spell on you to make you fall asleep, and then I would show them to you in the form of a dream."

"You can do that?" Harald asked.

"Of course. I am Doomwing." Naturally, he'd only improved his dream walking recently, but there was no reason to let Harald know that. "So… do you agree?"

Harald glanced back at his honour guard and then nodded. "Aye. I agree. Do what you have to."

Author's Notes

Doomwing continues his machinations. If people are going to force out capable individuals, then he's more than happy to add them to his hoard.

During the Third Age, Doomwing spent quite a lot of time around the dwarves and elves who roamed the skies, so he knows all about the sky ships. However, pretty much all of them were wiped out in the Third Catastrophe, and their land-bound kin showed no inclination to seek the skies again. Now that he's found some dwarves who are interested in flying, perhaps he'll share a bit of his knowledge.

Last edited: Mar 2, 2024

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SecretTwelve

Feb 10, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 16: The Dwarf Dreams

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SecretTwelve

Feb 12, 2024

#170

Chapter 16: The Dwarf Dreams

As a boy, Harald had dreamed of flying. The dwarves of the Sky Claw Mountains maintained a cadre of roc riders, brave dwarves who rode on the large birds that nested amidst the peaks. The rocs were ornery creatures, but they were loyal to a fault once they'd chosen a rider. More than anything, he'd wanted to be chosen.

And he had been.

He had become one of the youngest roc riders in the history of his people, and he had spent as much time as he could up amidst the clouds. His brother had been happy for him despite not being chosen, but Bjorn had never dreamed of the sky and the clouds the way Harald had. Instead, his older brother had been happiest with both feet on the ground.

Harald's roc had been his best friend. Goldwing had chosen him when he had been little more than a hatchling, but he had grown quickly, as rocs were wont to do. Harald had doted on Goldwing almost as much as the bird's own parents. Some had laughed at him, for although Harald was the youngest to ever be chosen by a roc, the roc that had chosen him was still too young to fly. Normally, only adult rocs chose riders.

But none of the insults or the derision had mattered after he and Goldwing had flown together for the first time. It had not been an easy flight nor a graceful one, but Harald would never forget the experience. They had flown just before dawn, and they had watched the sunrise together.

Harald had still been a young dwarf then, but he had thought he knew what it meant for the sun to rise. Yet seeing it from the air, seeing the horizon give way from black to orange, yellow, gold, and pink had been an experience unlike any other. The wind had been brisk that day, and the chill of the thin air high above the ground had clawed at his bones, but he had never felt better, more at peace than he had up there with only Goldwing for company.

They had shared many battles, he and Goldwing, and they had won many victories. They'd lost too, of course, but those losses had only driven them to work harder and seek out new weapons or strategies. But dwarves lived longer than rocs, and the time came when Goldwing no longer had the strength to bear Harald up into the sky or even to fly alone.

The roc had looked so ashamed of it, as though he had let Harald down somehow. Harald had done his best to reassure his old friend that he was not angry or disappointed. How could he be? Without Goldwing, he would never have soared through the skies at all. Time was a foe no one could defeat, and Goldwing was a victim of his own success. A lesser roc would have fallen in battle long before old age, but Goldwing had been too swift and skilled in the air to fall. Instead, he had lived long enough to know the weakness that came with the relentless passage of time.

Goldwing had not lived much longer after that. Rocs were not meant to wither away upon the ground. They were meant to soar through the sky and cruise through the clouds. Harald stayed with him till the end, and then he had his friend's body burnt in the dwarf way, with his ashes scattered from the tallest peak of the Sky Claw Mountains.

It was common for roc riders to seek another mount when theirs passed away, but Harald could not bring himself to do it. He would find himself comparing each new roc to Goldwing, and always he would find them wanting. Still, he was proud when his children were each chosen by a roc, for they shared his dreams of the sky.

It had been decades since Harald had flown, yet even in those long ago days, he had never flown so swiftly or so high as he did now.

The sea below him was a blur that seemed to stretch to the horizon. Dark clouds had gathered to the south, and great bolts of lightning crackled from the heavens to the waters below. Yet no thunder reached his ears, and the islands he saw on the distant horizon seemed to reach him and then vanish behind him in a matter of moments as he raced northward.

"What… is this?" Harald whispered.

Doomwing appeared beside him. "This is a memory of mine." The great dragon chuckled. "You have questions, dwarf. Ask them."

"Is this how quickly you can fly?" Harald asked. "And the thunder… why is there no thunder?"

Doomwing smirked. "Which is faster, lightning or the thunder that follows it?"

"Lightning, of course," Harald replied. "You see lightning first and only later does the thunder reach you."

Doomwing's smirk widened. "If you could outrace the thunder, would you ever hear it?"

"You…" Harald stared in awe. "You can fly faster than thunder?"

"I am far beyond the lesser dragons of the Seventh Age. I am a primordial dragon. I was born in the First Age. This memory is from the Third Age, but even then, I was powerful beyond what you could imagine. The whelps of the Seventh Age use only their wings to fly. A true dragon uses every part of their being to fly. A dragon who has mastered their true nature cannot be caught by anything as slow as thunder."

"Do you fly like that all the time?" Harald asked. Ancestors… what he wouldn't give to fly like that even once!

"No." Doomwing chuckled. "It is more tiring than flying with just my wings. It is also very noisy and somewhat rude. People will assume that you mean to attack if you approach them with such speed."

"I… I see." Harald squinted. He could see something up ahead. It appeared to be a sky-whale. The beast had to be half a mile long, and it was surrounded by… "Are those…?" He swallowed thickly. "Are those sky ships?"

"Yes." Doomwing smiled, and the world around them shifted. They were now looking down at another Doomwing, one who was substantially smaller than the winged titan Harald had met. "That is me from the Third Age. I was only about two thirds my current size back then."

"You're still enormous," Harald said. "Are you going to attack those sky ships?"

"Why would I?" Doomwing laughed. "They belong to friends of mine. They called for me using magic since that beast they're fighting is proving to be more troublesome than they expected. Pay close attention to the sky ships, dwarf. If you ever wish to restore the one you've found, you'll need to make good use of what I show you."

Harald nodded fiercely. "I will not forget a single moment of this."

They closed in on the sky whale, and Harald finally got his first real look at the sky ships. They were each roughly five hundred feet long, and they bristled with cannons, harpoons, and other weapons. Fleet-footed dwarves ran back and forth across the decks whilst armoured dwarves prepared to leap onto the sky whale or take to the skies upon rocs.

What caught his attention were the three sets of sails. One set was similar to the sails a normal ship might have whilst the other two were set out to the side like wings. Harald burned the sight of them into his mind, along with the elaborate networks of dwarven script that covered the hulls of the ships.

"The sails are there to both absorb power from the currents of magic that flow through the sky and to use those same currents to propel the ships. They had engines that allowed them to move even outside of those currents, but it was usually best to rely on the sails when possible to conserve power."

His vision of the sky ships changed. It was as if he could see through their exteriors, right into their very hearts. He realised that Doomwing was showing him what their interiors looked like, how all of the many mechanisms were designed. It would have been gibberish to most dwarves, but Harald had spent a century studying the ruins of the sky ship as they excavated it. He could not say he understood how it flew, but now, looking at the sky ships from this point of view, it was all falling into place.

"Amazing." Harald clenched his fists. To think he'd found a sky ship! It might be a ruin now, but it had once soared through the skies like the ships before him. "And they look a lot like regular ships because they landed on the water too, right?"

"Yes. During the Third Age, the seas rose up and tried to drown the world. Being able to operate like a normal ship was a safety precaution and a concession to the fact that only a single city was able to fly. The rest of their settlements were on islands scattered across the sea."

"Can you show me that city?" Harald asked.

"I will, but not yet." Doomwing nodded at his younger self. "Watch. See how your ancestors fought."

Harald watched in awe as the dwarves of the Third Age fought the sky whale. The ships pounded away with their cannons and fired harpoons to keep the sky whale from fleeing. The roc riders danced in and out of the battle, throwing spears and lobbing magic. But the most incredible thing he saw were the armoured dwarves who leapt off the ships and onto the sky whale.

They landed on the great beast, somehow keeping their footing, as they went to work with magical weapons, hacking and slashing. The best of them was a towering dwarf with a long beard of fiery hair. He laughed as he struck, leaping off the side of the sky whale and cleaving into its side with his axe before using a burst of magic from his armour and a grappling hook to heave himself up the other side, still hacking away with his weapon.

As the younger Doomwing approached, the tall dwarf stopped and turned, his laughter growing louder as he addressed the dragon.

"You're late, Doomwing!" The dwarf shook his axe at the dragon. "I've done almost all of the killing for you already."

"You're a liar, Ragnar." The younger Doowmwing laughed back. "All you've done is leave a few scratches. You and the others should step aside. I'll show you how it's done."

"Bah! And let you claim all the glory? I don't know why the captain called you. This bastard might be big, but he's nothing a few dwarves with stout axes can't handle."

"Yes, you're doing wonderfully," Doomwing drawled as the lines holding several of the harpoons snapped. The sky whale gave a ponderous roar and charged one of the sky ships. The vessel barely managed to evade, and a follow up charge tore one of its sails off. "Oh, look at that. The marvels of dwarf engineering."

"Those are fighting words, dragon!" Ragnar brought his axe down, and there was an explosion as the weapon bit impossibly deep into the sky whale's back. "We'll see who lands the killing blow!"

Later, after the sky whale was slain and lashed between the three sky ships, the younger Doomwing was speaking with Ragnar, who was sitting on his snout.

"You seem to enjoy sitting on my snout." The younger Doomwing stared at the dwarf.

"It's a comfortable spot." Ragnar had several bottles of booze with him. "A fine hunt. Want some booze?"

"You'd need something a lot bigger than those bottles to satisfy me." The younger Doomwing chortled. "I thought you'd be more upset. I struck the killing blow."

"Bah!" Ragnar waved away the words. "Keep telling yourself that. It was clearly my axe that slew the beast."

"It was clearly already dead when you struck it. Besides, I gave you that axe."

"Believe whatever you wish." Ragnar turned up his nose and grinned. "I know it was I who slew it."

"You delusional dwarf. I should ask for my axe back."

Ragnar clutched the weapon to his chest. "You wouldn't dare!"

"He was a good friend," Doomwing said to Harald. "And amongst the dwarves of that age, I dare say there were few who could best him in battle."

"What happened to him?" Harald asked.

"He fell, as did almost all the dwarves and elves who loved the skies." Doomwing growled. "If you wish to see the full might of the dwarves of Third Age, I can show you. But be warned, Harald. It will not be an easy sight, for the height of their power was only shown in the moments before their fall."

"I… I wish to see," Harald said. "But what could have destroyed people with sky ships like that?"

"I will show you."

There was a moment of nothingness and then they were suddenly elsewhere.

Harald gasped and looked around. This… this was more than he could ever have dreamed.

In the skies around him were so many sky ships. There had to be hundreds or even thousands of them! They ranged in size from ships that were a few dozen feet long to behemoths that were over a thousand feet long. Some were of clearly dwarven make with polished wood, gleaming metal, and unfurled sails. Others must be of elven design, for they seemed almost alive with hulls of living woods, sails of giant leaves, and tree folk in place of cannons. And still others were a glorious union of the two styles, a perfect blend of mechanical mastery and cultivated biology.

And at the heart of the formation of sky ships, larger than all of them put together, was a city. It was a gigantic floating island that was roughly circular in shape and perhaps ten miles across. The buildings upon it were a combination of the shaped trees that elves preferred and the masonry of the dwarves. Holding the entire island together was a huge tree whose roots and branches seemed to connect to all of the weapons built into the island and to the vast engines, glowing spheres of magical material, that pulsed and hummed as they kept the island aloft alongside gleaming flowers and sail-like leaves.

"Behold," Doomwing said. "The city that soared through the sky and sailed through the clouds. The dwarves called it Cloudhome, and the elves called it Skygrove. But I always called it Aurai."

"Aurai?"

"That was the name of the dryad who dreamed of the sky, the dryad whose powers made the city possible." Doomwing nodded at the gigantic tree. "That is her tree."

Harald tried to take it all in – the city, the sky ships, everything. "What… what could have destroyed such a force?"

For the sky ships and the city were not alone. Countless other ships were sailing on the seas below, and dragons, drakes, and other fliers filled the skies alongside the sky ships. The largest of the dragons were of similar size to Doomwing. Each of them could have devastated multiple kingdoms with ease, yet they had apparently encountered a foe so powerful that almost all of the forces gathered here would perish.

"There." Doomwing gazed at the horizon. "There is our foe."

The horizon was a single mass of storm clouds that seemed to span the world. Rain poured down, and the black clouds were riven by endless bolts of lightning. The sound of the thunder was a single sustained roar that never seemed to end. Amidst the storm were other fliers. There were dragons, drakes, wyverns, griffins, and all manner of other beasts to match those beside the sky ships. Yet there were also strange winged serpents that Harald had never seen before.

And at the heart of the storm was a creature that Harald could barely believe was real.

It resembled a serpent but with eight pairs of draconic wings spread along its body – and that body must have measured twelve miles in length. It writhed through the storm, and each contortion of its body called down more thunder and lightning. Each roar that burst from its throat sent the seas below into a frenzy and sent the waves surging upward and onward, swallowing up island after island after island. Tidal waves raced across the surface of the sea from horizon to horizon, and only the use of powerful magic kept the fleets below from being utterly destroyed before the battle was joined in earnest.

"Ancestors… what… what is that?" Harald whispered.

"We called him the Lord of the Tides." Doomwing's voice was filled with hate. "The wretched offspring of a tempest dragon and a tropical leviathan of the First Age. He hid when the Broken God declared war, and he hid when Mother Tree turned against us. He hid… and he fed on the corpses of the slain that fell into the waters of the world. He fed and fed and fed, growing larger and stronger until, at last, he felt sure enough of his power to reveal himself. It was he who had driven the waters to rise, and it was he who wished to drown the world until only the oceans were left. He convinced many of the… greatness of his vision, but we objected. Needless to say, negotiation was not possible."

"What happened?"

"We won," Doomwing said. "But the cost… the cost was almost too much to bear. Aurai perished, and her people – the dwarves and elves who loved the sky – perished with her. True, a few survived, but their grief was such that they never dreamed of the sky again, and as the waters receded, they resolved to live as they had before the Third Age. Since then, no dwarf has ever dreamed of the sky… until you."

"This… this is a tragedy." Tears rolled down Harald's cheeks. "But to give up their dreams of the sky… to just… forget? I could never do that. Even though I have not flown since my roc, Goldwing, passed, I still dream of the sky. I still dream of flying. The sky ship we found… if I could just fix it, I wouldn't mind flying again."

"It wouldn't feel like betrayal," Doomwing murmured. "Because you would not be flying on another mount."

"Yes." Harald nodded. "I could never ride on another mount, not after losing Goldwing. But on a ship? I could do that. But I don't even know where to begin. How can we possibly regain all that was lost?"

Doomwing chuckled. "I will tell you once we are out of this dream."

The dream ended, and Harald found himself stumbling back to his feet and rubbing at his eyes. His cheeks were wet, but he was not ashamed. What dwarf would not have wept at seeing what they had lost?

"You left your home because you did not wish to steal your brother's birthright." Doomwing flared his wings majestically, and only magic kept Harald and the other dwarves from being tossed aside like leaves in a storm. "I have an offer for you, Prince Harald. I am Dragon Emperor Doomwing. I desire able subordinates of honour and skill." An image formed in the air beside him. It was cruder compared to the dream he had shown Harald, but there was no mistaking the rugged terrain and gleam of lava. "In my domain is a land of fire and rock. You know as well as I that great riches can be found where the molten blood of the earth bubbles forth. Serve me, Harald, and you will be a prince no longer. You will be a king, and you will answer only to me."

Harald stared at the image, as did his honour guard. Doomwing spoke truly. The dwarves knew very well of the riches that could be unearthed in areas where the fiery blood of the world was exposed. "And what would you ask of me if I agreed?" he asked.

"I need your people and their expertise. I wish for you to aid the others who serve me. My domain will need buildings, roads, and mechanical devices of many kinds. You and your people shall provide them. In exchange, I will give you lands rich with the bounty of the earth. You need not fear that the earth will break and spew fire upon you and yours. I am Doomwing. I command the earth and fire and stone in my domain. Where you choose to settle, I will ensure it is safe. You have my oath on that."

It sounded almost too good to be true, but Harald could feel the ring of truth in the dragon's words. Doomwing possessed strength beyond measure. If he wished, he could enslave them with ease. Why go to this extent unless he meant it?

"Your offer is excellent."

"It comes with a condition," Doomwing said. "You must prove yourself."

"How?" Harald asked.

"With this."

The hills behind them gave way, and he gasped as Doomwing's power ripped open the hillsides. The ruins of the sky ship were lifted clear of the dirt with great gentleness despite their weight, and more magic was used to bind the broken pieces back together. Scaffolding of rock rose up around the sky ship, supporting it and offering a way for the dwarves to access it.

"All I have done is put the pieces back together. It is little more than a shell. It cannot fly." Doomwing gestured, and objects began to appear on the ground. "With these you will be able to repair the sky ship." The dragon's lips curled. "And that shall be your test. I told you that you would see all you need to fix the sky ship in the dream I showed you. You have been studying and excavating this ship for a century. If you cannot fix it now, with what I have shown you and given you, then you were never worthy of flying it in the first place. I will be leaving now for the last part of my journey. I shall be back in a week. If you cannot fix it by then…"

"A week? That's…" Harald wanted to say it was impossible, but he had spent a century studying the sky ship's pieces. With what he'd seen in the dream and the parts that he'd been given… yes. He could already see how some of those parts might be used. And if he thought about what they'd learned of the ship from their studies, then more of the pieces fell into place. It would not be easy, but it would be possible. "We'll do it."

"If you do," Doomwing said. "Then the ship is yours to keep, and I will greet you not as a prince but as a king in my service." He took out a spherical object that resembled an enormous opal. "And if you need any further motivation, this is a phoenix egg. As a king in my service, you would have access to her flames. Think of what you could make with those."

Harald thought, and then he shook himself and hurried toward the scaffolding that held up the sky ship. "Gather everyone!" he boomed. "We have a week to fix this ship!"

Author's Notes

Doomwing will never admit it, but he misses the days when he did not have to fly through the skies alone. Dragons love the sky, so it's only natural that he would enjoy the company of those who feel the same. Perhaps he wants to have those days again.

What Doomwing did for the sky ship is to put it back together using his powers. However, he didn't really fix anything other than the fact that it was in several pieces. All of the most important systems are still broken. However, he's banking on the research that Harald and the others have done. He suspects they've gotten quite close. All they really needed was to see a functional ship to understand how to fix things properly, and he showed Harald what the ships looked like when they were operating properly.

It won't be long now before Doomwing begins the return trip, and he'll come back with quite an interesting haul.

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Threadmarks Chapter 17: The Vampire Teaches A Lesson

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SecretTwelve

Feb 13, 2024

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Chapter 17: The Vampire Teaches A Lesson

"Do you want to know what the greatest problem with vampires is?" Marcus asked.

Ivar remained silent, and Marcus bit back a smile. The young half-blood was one of the most magnificently skilled archers that Marcus had ever seen, but he was also a bit of a sourpuss. Oh well. Marcus knew better than most what an unfulfilled quest for vengeance did to somebody's personality.

Hopefully, he'd cheer up after tonight. Half-bloods might only live two or three times as long as humans, but he didn't want the younger man to spend even that span of time all grumpy and resentful. Marcus had also come to quite like Ivar. The young man was skilled, went about his work without complaint, and was actually loyal – a true rarity amongst vampires and those who associated with them.

Ideally, Ivar would serve well until his age began to weary him before agreeing to be fully turned. If things went according to plan, he would make the jump straight up to elder vampire although a leap all the way to ancient vampire might be possible with the right preparations and a bit of luck. But he could worry about those later. Right now, they had an ancient vampire to kill and a coven to take over.

"Please enlighten me, my lord." Ivar's voice was rough from disuse and held just a touch of sarcasm.

Marcus found it amusing. It reminded him of a puppy trying to posture like a wolf. As skilled as Ivar was, he was a long, long, long way from being able to threaten a proper ancient vampire in a fair fight, which was why he'd joined Marcus. If he ever wanted vengeance against the ancient vampire who had turned his mother while she'd been pregnant with him, then joining forces with another ancient was his best chance.

"Treachery, Ivar. Treachery is the biggest problem with vampires." Marcus motioned for his forces to begin their encirclement of the enemy camp. In keeping with the enemy coven leader's preference for hedonism over proper soldiery, the guards stationed around the camp were those fools either too unlucky or too unattractive to participate in the orgy taking place further in. Good grief. Orgies were a staple of vampire culture, but there was a time and place for everything. The middle of a warzone was not an appropriate place for an orgy. "Personally, I think it goes all the way back to the origin of the vampires."

Ivar's brows wrinkled, and he inclined his head in favour of actually asking his question.

"Vampires first came to be early in the Third Age. It wasn't easy for vampires back then. As you know, vampires do not enjoy living water. The weakest of our number cannot cross it, and it can easily weaken or immobilise even elder vampires if they are fully immersed. With the seas rising, the first vampires had to be very careful. I don't know exactly how the first vampire – the Progenitor – came to be, but I do know that the first vampire personally created five vampires to serve him. They were different from the near-mindless thralls and ghouls that he had already made. They were, for all intents and purposes, the first true vampires other than him. They came to be known as the Council of Five."

Marcus chuckled. "For much of the Third Age, there was no strife in the very first coven. They could ill afford to turn on one another when the rising waters put them all at risk. After the defeat of the Third Catastrophe, the seas began to recede. Those early vampires suddenly found themselves able to travel far more freely. And with that growing freedom came a stark realisation. You see, a bond exists between a vampire and those who are turned with their blood. The sire always has some level of mental influence over those they have turned. Some aspects of that influence are quite subtle. It makes the creator vampire appear more attractive and charismatic, and it makes their words sound much more persuasive and logical. However, it can also take much more direct forms."

"You're talking about direct mental compulsion," Ivar growled. "The creator vampire can give orders that are almost impossible to disobey."

"Yes."

The archer's fists clenched. "I know all about that."

"I imagine you do." Marcus could already see it. Gaius indulged in the pleasures of the flesh, but he also derived great pleasure in tormenting his foes. It was all too easy to imagine the other ancient allowing Ivar to get close only to use the blood link between them to force the half-blood to watch as he escaped, taking the young man's mother with him. "Now, do you think the Council of Five would have been pleased when they realised just how much power over them the Progenitor had?"

Ivar shook his head. His dealings with vampires had taught him that they chaffed at subservience unless they were richly rewarded. Even then, they were constantly scheming to rise up through the ranks.

"The blood link is strongest between those who are directly related. In other words, a creator vampire has the most control over those they have turned personally. They have less control over the vampires that are turned by their subordinates. The Council of Five planned for centuries, establishing covens of their own… and then turning on the Progenitor. At great cost, they eventually emerged triumphant. As the oldest remaining vampires, there was no one who could control them. And to make sure that none of their subordinates got any ideas about overthrowing them, they used the Progenitor's blood to weave a powerful magic that made it impossible for those they had turned to go against them."

"Are the Council of Five still alive?" Ivar asked quietly. "Because if they are, they need to die."

"They are all dead," Marcus replied. "My father was one of them, and he killed the others during the Fourth Age. Now, before you thank him, you need to realise that he didn't do it out of altruism. On the contrary, it was another case of treachery. You see, it occurred to him that although the Council of Five had all been personally turned by the Progenitor, they were not all equally powerful. He was perhaps the least of them, albeit the one most skilled in rituals and esoteric magic. Rather than being happy about being one of the five most powerful vampires in the world, my father wanted to become the most powerful vampire in the world."

"Of course, he did."

"Yes, my father was a total bastard. He convinced the other members of the Council of Five that they could perform another ritual and transcend their status as ancient vampires to become primordial vampires." Marcus made a disgusted sound. "As you can imagine, the other members of the Council were intrigued. What was the cost? Well, all they had to do was to sacrifice their covens in another grand ritual."

Ivar scoffed.

"Yes, he was asking them to commit more treachery. They didn't hesitate. They were as greedy for power as he was. But unbeknownst to them, my father went to their covens and informed them of their impending treachery. He praised their loyalty and hard work and said it would be a shame if they were to fall victim to such schemers. Instead, he asked them to go along with the ritual… and that he would reverse its effects, sacrificing the other members of the Council and helping all of them ascend into ancients."

"And they believed him?"

"My father could be very charming when he put his mind to it," Marcus said. "He could make you believe the sky was purple or the sun shone green, he was that persuasive. But unbeknownst to both groups, he had modified the ritual to sacrifice all of them to turn himself – and only himself – into a primordial vampire." Marcus laughed. "It would almost be funny, you know, if he hadn't become the Fourth Catastrophe afterward. My father succeeded. In a single ritual, he wiped out the other members of the Council of Five, as well as their covens, and ascended into a vampire more powerful than any other in history – a vampire so strong that he soon came to threaten the entire world."

"What of his coven?" Ivar asked.

"Oh, he sacrificed them too. My father was well aware of the treachery they had planned against him and used their desires to supplant him to include them in the ritual. The only reason I survived was my paranoia. My father made the mistake of being nice to me. He was never nice to me unless he wanted something."

"How does this relate to tonight?" Ivar asked.

Marcus glanced at his captains. They nodded. Everything was ready. "Because, Ivar, I intend to turn the land beneath the umbral veil into a new homeland for vampires. And that means, I need to deal with the vampiric penchant for treachery. The best way to do that is to make it very clear that treachery will not be tolerated. And I can do that by killing every single ancient or elder that cannot be trusted to keep their word. It will be bloody, yes, but perhaps it will be enough to teach my fellow vampires that treachery will not be rewarded in our new homeland. Gaius is one of the most treacherous vampires I know. Making an example of him will be an excellent start." Marcus paused. "He's also an asshole, so I won't feel bad if he dies."

Ivar scowled. "Asshole doesn't even begin to cover it."

"In any case," Marcus said. "It's time." He raised his voice. "I won't bother with an elaborate speech. If they surrender, spare them. I'll sort out which ones need to die. If they fight? Kill them!" His men roared and charged toward the camp. "And don't destroy the booze. We can drink that later!"

The battle, such as it was, was over shortly after it began. Marcus had trained his troops well and had ensured they saw regular combat, if not against vampires and human warriors, then against the many beasts that wandered the frozen north. They were hungry for battle, hungry for success, and hungry for victory.

They cut through Gaius's troops like a hot knife through butter.

The only resistance came from the elders who had not be invited to the orgy. They fought with superhuman speed and struck with superhuman strength, but Marcus had elders of his own, and his were far better trained. Oh, he wasn't a complete monster. He allowed his vampires to indulge in blood and other vices, but only if they trained regularly and met their quota of patrols, battles, and exercises. The hedonistic indulgences that so many vampires took for granted were not rights in his camp. They were privileges, and his vampires were far more dangerous for it.

They made their way to the centre of the camp and arrived to find the orgy still in full swing. Marcus scoffed. The sheer incompetence involved in not noticing their attack beggared belief. But he could also see his troops' eyes wandering.

"Easy," Marcus growled. "They might be pretty, but they'll bite your throat out and drain you dry before they warm your bed." That brought a few chuckles. "If you want someone to help you pass the cold night, wait until we get back to camp. You'll have plenty of loot with you, and you'll be coming back victorious. I'm told the ladies love that."

More laughter greeted his words.

Yet despite the heavily armed troops standing around the orgy, the participants seemed determined to continue. Marcus shook his head. This was just getting pathetic. He snapped his fingers and used a bit of magic to make it echo through the area like a crack of thunder. The orgy stopped, and he felt a smile cross his lips as Gaius's brain fought through the fog of drugs, booze, and women to realise that, yes, his camp had fallen and he and his harem were now surrounded by hundreds of warriors. And the look on his face when he saw Marcus and then Ivar beside him and understood just how screwed he was – and not in a nice way – was something Marcus would savour for centuries.

"Out of the way," Marcus ordered. The harem parted as he stalked forward.

Marcus stifled a laugh as Gaius tried to put on his pants before realising it would be better to don the enchanted breastplate nearby instead. Ivar raised his bow – a weapon carved from the branch of a Daughter Tree that Marcus had barely managed to escape with – and loosed an arrow wrought of dragon-silver, a metal made from the powdered scales of a dragon. Admittedly, it had only been a relatively young dragon, but Marcus had paid handsomely to ensure that the scales came from a dragon whose powers were aligned with light and purity. He'd then paid even more handsomely to have a skilled dwarf smith make a dozen of them for Ivar to use. Marcus had then personally used runes on each arrow to ensure they could repair themselves and would always return to Ivar when called.

Those same arrows would be a threat to him, but giving them to Ivar had completely won over the young man. And Ivar was nothing if not loyal to those who aided him. Provided Marcus did nothing to harm Ivar or those he cared about, he could count on the half-blood to serve without question for the rest of his days. Besides, Marcus had also taken steps over the years to reduce his vulnerability to such weapons. The weapons could certainly hurt him, but they wouldn't be able to kill him, at which point he should be able to deal with Ivar easily enough. And even if worse came to worst, he had already prepare a means to escape the area that even Doomwing would have trouble stopping.

The arrow went through Gaius's hand and pinned it to the ground.

"Agh!" Gaius screamed. "My hand!"

"Worry less about your hand and more about your head," Marcus drawled. The three most highly favoured members of Gaius's harem moved to block his path, and he raised an eyebrow. "Now, I understand wanting to curry his favour, but are you really going to try to stop me? Gaius is going to die tonight, and you can either die with him or prove yourself useful to me."

The three women looked at each other and then flashed him their most beguiling smiles. Marcus would have been lying if he said he wasn't tempted. Gaius had always had a keen eye for beauty, especially redheads, but Marcus wouldn't be much of a king if he let his libido order him around.

"I'm speaking of skills outside the bedroom," Marcus said. "For example, I could use a record keeper. And I know my troops have been hoping for a better cook." Laughter rippled through his warriors. "You can only eat roasted yeti so many times before you find yourself wishing for a proper meal."

One of the women, the redhead, raised her hand. "Uh… I used to be a record keeper. I kept the ledgers for my previous lord."

"I see." Marcus nodded. "Then put on some clothes and wait over there." He pointed. "And don't try anything because I will kill you if I have to." He glanced back at the two others. "What about you two?"

"I'm not an awful cook," the brunette said.

"Not awful is a step up from our current situation."

"I can sew and weave magic into clothes," the blonde said.

"That… is extremely useful. You two join your friend over there." Marcus stepped forward as they scuttled out of his way. "And now to deal with you, Gaius."

The other ancient vampire was trying to use his magic, but he had almost certainly ingested all manner of drugs and booze. Even an ancient vampire could be affected by substances of sufficient strength, and it would take time to flush them from his system. The pain from the arrow could not be helping either.

"You son of a bitch," Gaius hissed. "Do you really think you'll get away with this?"

"Absolutely." Marcus laughed. "I mean… who's going to stop me?" He looked around. "Any takers?" Not surprisingly, nobody spoke up for Gaius. "I'm going to turn this land into a vampire kingdom, and it's going to be a vampire kingdom free of the treachery, hedonism, and general idiocy that has doomed our species for centuries."

"Do you know how many of us you'll have to kill to make that work?" Gaius growled.

"I estimate I'll have to kill at least twenty ancients before the rest fall into line. After that? I'll probably have to kill at least one or two a century for the first few hundred years before everybody finally gets the message. But I thought I'd start with you." Marcus turned to Ivar. "You've got more reason to kill him than me. Would you like to do anything before I strike him down."

Ivar didn't bother to reply. Instead, his hands flashed into motion, and it wasn't long before Gaius resembled a pin cushion from all the arrows sticking out of him.

"That'll have to do," Ivar growled. "He is an ancient who has lived for more than three thousand years. I don't have the power to kill him. You do. Seeing him die will have to be enough."

Marcus nodded. The older an ancient was, the harder it was to keep them dead. Even if Ivar destroyed Gaius's body completely, the other vampire's spirit would linger, and it would only be a matter of time before his body reformed or he possessed the body of one of his subordinates. However, Marcus was capable of truly killing even an ancient like Gaius.

"Any last words?" Marcus asked.

Gaius blubbered uselessly through his ruined mouth.

"Ah, you can't speak. Well, goodbye, Gaius."

Marcus reached deep into his very being and called for one of the ancient runes he knew. It was a rune of true death, something he had learned from Doomwing. As the primordial dragon put it, there were times when you needed to make sure that something stayed dead, and this rune was for those times.

Gaius tried to muster his powers to defend himself, but Marcus struck out with a handful of greater runes that shattered his body and disrupted his magic. Had Gaius kept himself in fighting shape, this might actually have been a battle. Instead, he'd fallen prey to his own vices.

The rune took a while to set up, and so Marcus contented himself with whistling a happy tune before it finally snapped into place and Gaius died. It was not a pretty death. There was plenty of screaming and wailing, and a great deal of thrashing, writhing, and shuddering. But the end result was that Gaius died, and his body disintegrated. There was nothing left of him, not an ounce of his spirit or magic remained. He was as dead as anything could be.

"Ivar," Marcus said as he noticed a familiar woman huddled in a corner. "Over there."

The young man's eyes widened. "Mother…"

They had both expected her to be dead. Gaius was not known for keeping people around once he had lost interest in them.

"Go to her," Marcus said. "She will need you in the days to come."

As Ivar hurried off to his mother, Marcus turned to greet the only other ancient vampire in Gaius's camp. The other vampire was dressed in a simple grey tunic, and his dark hair was kept well-trimmed. The glasses on his face were likely an affectation from his time amongst the living. All ancient vampires had inhumanly keen vision.

"It's been a while, Marcus." Quintus sighed. "I suppose this is where you kill me too."

"Please," Marcus drawled. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I served Gaius for centuries."

"He turned you, Quintus. It wasn't as though you could easily disobey. Besides, despite your personal dislike of him, you served him loyally and well. It was only your excellent administration that allowed him to indulge in so many vices. Without you, he'd have gone bankrupt years ago. You also surrendered to my men rather than trying to fight your way through them. You could have – you are an ancient."

"And then what?" Quintus asked. "Say I killed your men, I'd then have to deal with you and the elders who serve you. I might get away, but where would I go? I'd have nothing but the clothes on my back. I suppose I could start over, but this place… this is going to be the new vampire homeland. Where could I go that would be better than here?"

"And that is why I won't be killing you, Quintus." Marcus grinned. "You're an excellent administrator, and I find myself in dire need of someone to help with that side of things. Moreover, you are loyal to those you serve, and you think logically with an eye to the long-term consequences of your decisions. Gaius is dead. There is no one left who can control you. Instead, I ask you to serve me. I will become the king of this land, and you can become one of my trusted advisors. You must have dreams that you could never fulfil while you were forced to handle things for Gaius. Join me, and you'll see those dreams fulfilled. All I ask from you is your loyalty, and I would like to think I'm more deserving of it than Gaius."

Quintus looked at him for a long moment. "I could do that."

"Good." Marcus smiled. "Now, help me sort through all the people here in this camp. I need to know who can be trusted and who should be dealt with."

Author's Notes

Marcus has his work cut out for him. Treachery is a constant theme in vampire history, and he's not so much more powerful than his foes that he can afford to be careless. Yes, he could get Doomwing to come help him, but he wants to do this himself.

It'll be a struggle, but this will also be the first time the vampires have had a true homeland since the end of the Fourth Age. Whoever rules the land beneath the umbral veil will have command over the overwhelming majority of vampires in the world. Marcus's dream is to create a vampire nation that actually functions like a proper nation instead of acting like a parasite.

Also, he can't just hand Doomwing the title of best king. The dragon will have to work for it.

Last edited: Feb 13, 2024

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Threadmarks Chapter 18: The Dragon Meets Some Unusual People

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SecretTwelve

Feb 14, 2024

#206

Chapter 18: The Dragon Meets Some Unusual People

Doomwing approached the final stop on his trip. Below him, the open plains and rugged hills had given way to the coast. An estuary filled with mangrove trees and brackish water lay below him, the twisted forms of the mangroves far taller and sturdier than they ought to be. Merfolk swam through the water, some heading out to sea whilst others went upriver.

The merfolk who lived in the lightless depths of the ocean could not survive for long in freshwater. However, their coastal kin were better able to handle the transition. Some could survive for days at a time in rivers, lakes, and streams. Others, however, were blessed with the ability to live freely in both freshwater and saltwater.

He had encountered his fair share of merfolk over the many years of his life. He had even spent time with them since he knew dozens of ways to breathe underwater using magic. After the debacle of the Third Catastrophe, he had endeavoured to shore up his weaknesses and had learned all he could from their tide mages and water weavers. They had been in no position to refuse, not after their involvement with that overgrown eel.

He glided closer to the surface of the sea and flew in a lazy circle around the titanic mangrove tree that stood sentry over the estuary, its proud roots forming great arches that spanned the mouth of the river whilst its branches cast shadows that spread for miles. The merfolk huddled amidst the roots, watching him with wary eyes. Many of them were children with all manner of trinkets clutched in their hands – pieces of coral, shells, and even scales from various aquatic creatures.

The dryad sitting with her legs dangling into the water and a merfolk child on either side stared up at him. Her skin was the colour of freshly cut mangrove wood, and her eyes were the blue-black of the deepest reaches of the sea. A floppy hat woven of dried seaweed sat upon her head, and her hair hung like kelp past her shoulders in varying shades of brown, yellow, and green.

"You are being obnoxious," she drawled. "And you are scaring the children."

Doomwing took a moment to make sure that there were no merfolk beneath him and then landed in the waters nearby. "You remain as eccentric as ever, Rhizophora. Are you not worried that I will attack?"

The dryad shrugged. "And if you attacked with your full strength, what could I do? I am not one of the First Daughters who might, at least for a time, stand against you. I am a Third Daughter – a great-granddaughter of Mother Tree. I was born at the beginning of the Sixth Age. Even on my best day, I could not beat you on your worst day."

"True."

"And you are no coward who strikes down helpless children and those who have not wronged you." Rhizophora smiled faintly. "Your temper may burn hot, for you are a dragon, but you are no butcher."

"There is that."

Doomwing looked down at the merfolk children. How easy it would be to slay them all. It would take scarcely a thought to stain these waters with their blood. There had been a time when the pain of Ragnar's death had still cut deep when he would have been tempted.

His friend had died as nobly as any dwarf could wish for, but he had died all the same. Doomwing had wanted him to live, to die an old dwarf in a gilded hall filled with his children and grandchildren. But Ragnar had died screaming his defiance, with no wife or children to speak of. They had perished before the final battle, their sky ship struck down by the Lord of Tides himself when he first emerged from the depths of the ocean.

Ragnar had lived, at least in body. But Doomwing had seen the grief clawing at his friend's soul, and he had known that Ragnar's heart had died alongside his wife and children. Only vengeance had kept him going. Yet at the end, Ragnar had forgone his chance at vengeance to buy Doomwing less than a heartbeat of time.

Doomwing had used that time well. Ragnar had been avenged, and Doomwing had screamed his hate and rage and sorrow into the very face of the Lord of Tides.

In the aftermath of the battle, he had looked upon the merfolk who had cast their lot in with his enemy, and he had been filled with wrath. The urge to strike them down, to boil the seas, and unleash runes of devastation upon them had been almost more than he could bear. Why should they live when his friend was dead? Why should they be allowed to return to their cities when Aurai was gone and the elves and dwarves who had sought the skies were no more?

But Dawnscale had stayed his hand. What choice had the merfolk really had? To defy the Lord of the Tides would have meant death for them all. There had been enough bloodshed. Let them slink back to their cities of coral and monolithic stone, let them grieve for the countless losses they had already taken.

In time, Doomwing came to understand that there was some truth to her words. Some of the merfolk had undoubtedly joined the Lord of Tides with great enthusiasm, revelling in the chance to drown the world and expand their domains. Others had looked with horror upon the devastation being wrought upon the surface, but they could not afford to rebel. They would have been slaughtered if they had tried.

That did not excuse them. A dragon would have preferred death than forced obedience. The First Age had shown that. His fellows had died in droves fighting the Broken God, but they had died rather than kneel. Merfolk were not dragons. Their hearts were not forged of sun fire. They were weak and fragile. They feared death where a dragon would instead fear a life of servitude.

And he had come to know them better in the years he spent with them. There were good merfolk amongst them, those who were worthy of his respect. His fury had cooled over the years, his wrath reserved now for his dead foe and any who sought to repeat his mistakes.

"You should smile," Rhizophora said. "It might soothe the children."

Doomwing smiled. The children wailed and hid their faces with the two beside the dryad clinging onto her and burying their faces into her sides.

"Or not. I had almost forgotten how toothy a dragon's smile is." Rhizophora sighed. "Fear not, children. Doomwing means you no harm. He is simply here to visit me. We are old friends, you see, or at least old acquaintances."

"I can sense your tree folk nearby. May I see them?" It was a courtesy. He could use magic to force them out into the open or to cancel their concealment, but there was no need to be rude when she had been accommodating so far.

Rhizophora smiled. "If you like."

Several mangrove trees stood up, and Doomwing tilted his head. They were not the largest tree folk he had ever seen, but their concealment had been excellent. From the looks of them, they could extend their roots and branches like great spears or shoot spines of hardened wood at more distant foes. Most intriguing, however, were the many, many, many toxins they were able to produce, some of which even he hadn't encountered before. How fascinating.

"You've adapted toxins from aquatic creatures and then combined them with plant toxins to create completely new varieties. Impressive." And he meant it. Too many dryads were content with minor improvements. To create entirely new toxins was no easy feat, especially for a dryad born in the Sixth Age.

"The seas are home to many interesting creatures, a great many of which are either venomous, poisonous, or sometimes both." Rhizophora waved around a fishing rod. "I also enjoy fishing although I have to be mindful, lest any of the children find themselves caught on my line." She smiled. "You'd be surprised by how many of them forget themselves when they see the bait I use."

"I can imagine." Doomwing could remember getting into trouble many times as a hatchling, quite often because of his desire to fill his belly. Young dragon grew swiftly, but that growth meant they were almost always hungry.

"You're here for plants and tree folk, I suppose." She sighed. "Anthracia told me you might be headed my way."

"Did she now?"

"Every now and then, one of her elves will get curious about the sea. It's not unusual for them to find their way here. I look after them, and they bring me gifts." Rhizophora smiled. "I love my mangroves, but there are not many flowers here."

Doomwing peered at the merfolk children. Now that he looked more closely, many of them held flowers in jars. She must grow them elsewhere, and the merfolk were bound to find them interesting since flowers of that kind did not grow underwater. "I am indeed here for certain plants and to ask if there are any tree folk that might wish to join me."

"Does your territory include mangroves?" she asked. "The tree folk here would not do well upon the plains or in the mountains."

"The southernmost part of my domain has access to the sea. There are mangroves there. I suspect it will be quite some time before the influence of the dryad I have obtained reaches that far, but I think she'll get there eventually. In the meantime, any tree folk I bring with me will be tasked with watching over that area and tending to the plants I hope to obtain from you."

"That seems reasonable enough, and a few of the younger tree folk are curious about new lands. I suspect at least a few will join you." Rhizophora shifted slightly as the merfolk children on either side of her slid back into the water. They swam toward Doomwing, curious but cautious. "I don't suppose you have anything you could give me in return?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Doomwing produced a number of charms. "These are charms made from the feathers of a griffin. When used by merfolk, they allow merfolk to breathe on land as easily as in water." He produced another set of charms. "And these are charms made from the scales of a water salamander. When used by merfolk, they prevent merfolk from drying out on land."

"A most potent combination," Rhizophora said. "You know how fond I am of merfolk, and you brought charms that would allow the more curious amongst them to more freely explore dry land. Out of curiosity, how did you get a griffin's feathers?"

"The fool led his followers against me when I awakened for the first time after the Sixth Catastrophe. He thought me weak enough to be slain. I stripped them of their feathers and ate them for lunch. They coveted my hoard and wished to take my lands for themselves."

"Even half-dead, I find it difficult to imagine even a hundred griffins troubling you."

"There were fifty of them, and they paid for their temerity with their lives." He paused. "At least they tasted good."

"And the water salamander?"

"Nothing quite so troublesome. She was an ancient water salamander, and she had recently shed many of her scales. I offered her a slab of leviathan meat in exchange. She had several hatchlings, so she was eager to accept. Consuming the meat hastened their growth and increased their power." He gave a low rumble. "And I will admit to feeling a certain satisfaction in killing the leviathan. He was an old foe, one who escaped the fate he deserved at the end of the Third Age."

"I see." Rhizophora nodded. "Well, I agree to the exchange. I am quite pleased with what you've brought. By the way… I had a visitor recently. She is currently visiting the merfolk not far from here. They occupy a portion of the shelf before the long drop. I'm sure you'd find her interesting."

"Is that so?" Doomwing nodded. "Then I will seek her out." He was about to turn and swim out to deeper water when one of the merfolk children drifted over with a seaweed hat, not unlike the one Rhizophora wore. The child smiled and offered it up to him. "For me?"

The merfolk child nodded. It was difficult for merfolk to speak out of water, but they had developed a sort of sign language to use instead. He was familiar with it from his dealings with them in the past, and it was amusing to see how little it had changed over the Ages. The child signed that it was for him and that he should take it as a sign of friendship, after all, if he was friends with Rhizophora, then he was their friend too. It was a childish way of thinking, but they were children.

The hat itself was no great treasure. He could easily have made a better one himself, but it was still a gift freely given, and he could barely remember the last time a child had given him a gift. Yes… it would have been Hikari. The young kitsune had once asked him when his birthday was. He had just given her a gift, and she had wanted to return the favour, especially since he had given her a gift each and every year. She had even gone so far as to say that she would make up for any birthdays she had missed.

Naturally, her enthusiasm had turned to absolute horror when she'd heard just how old he was. She'd thought he was joking, but Dreamsong had confirmed his age. Doomwing had just smiled toothily and reminded her that as a princess, she should always keep her word. She owed him a present for each year of his life. She had responded by trying to kick him – thankfully, Elerion had grabbed her before she could break her foot on his scales – and then proclaimed that her gift would be so awesome as to make up for all those years.

Her gift had been an illusion made solid – a fascinating display of her progress in the magical arts that the kitsune specialised in. He still had it, tucked safely away in his hoard, and he had very generously released Hikari from her oath. Naturally, he'd brought it up every single birthday thereafter, right up until things had taken a turn for the worse.

"Thank you," Doomwing said. "I shall add it to my hoard." And he would, albeit only after layering protective magic on it, so it wasn't destroyed by the raging heat of the volcano.

Swimming out to deeper water, Doomwing took a moment to cast magic that let him breathe underwater and then dove. He soon passed the reef where some of the merfolk made their homes in houses of living coral. They watched him go, cautious but not alarmed. Rhizophora must have sent word to them.

Deeper he went, and the beasts of the sea hurried to make way. As huge as he was, there were larger things in the sea than him, but few of them would have the audacity to challenge him. Only the very oldest of leviathans and krakens would dare, along with the great island-whales that dwelt on the bottom of the depths for centuries at a time, dreaming of the past and future.

Further down, in houses of black stone carved out of the great shelf that bordered the long descent into the lightless dark of the true deep, was the person he had been told about. It was easy to tell her apart from the blue-scaled merfolk. After all, just how often did a vampire choose to go into the sea?

He used magic to let them converse clearly despite the water, and the vampire turned as he approached. The merfolk hung back, curious but wary, all too aware of the ease with which he could crush them and their homes. Their leader, a shaman who wore an intricate necklace of enchanted seashells, came forward.

"You are known to us, great Doomwing." The merman inclined his head. "What brings you to our seas?"

"Curiosity." Doomwing nodded at the vampire. "I wish to know what a vampire is doing underwater." He bit back a chuckle. "I also wish to know just how long your preparations took."

The vampire before him was clearly an ancient vampire, yet even ancient vampires were not immune to the effects of living water. They were not completely immobilised or drained of their strength as lesser vampires were, but it was still far from pleasant. In order to go this deep beneath the sea without being harmed, this ancient was absolutely covered in protective charms, had donned plenty of protective clothing, and had several protective runes and spells in place. All of them were saturated with her power, which spoke volumes of her skill. There was also something vaguely familiar about her…

"Ah." Doomwing realised her identity. "You're that crazy vampire Marcus invited to live with him for a while. Faustina."

The vampire stared at him. She had the look of a demure beauty with dark hair, pale skin, and doe-like eyes. But the moment the words left his mouth, she snarled.

"That son of a bitch!" she hissed. "Is he ever going to get over that?"

"Your little experiment caused an explosion large enough to leave a crater two miles wide." Doomwing snickered. "Although I'm not surprised, given your alleged mastery of alchemy."

"There is nothing alleged about my mastery," Faustina snarled. "I have spent my entire life studying the secrets of alchemy. There is no vampire alive who knows more about it than me, and only a select few can claim to be my better."

Doomwing cleared his throat.

"Tch." Faustina huffed petulantly. "You are not that much better than me at alchemy. Besides, you hardly ever use it."

"Because I have an array of awesome powers, I rarely need to rely on alchemy, unlike you." Doomwing grinned. "I still remember the look on Marcus's face when he came back. That was his manor you were conducting experiments in. It was a miracle nobody was killed. Oh wait. It wasn't a miracle. I made sure nobody was killed because I'm awesome unlike you."

"…" Faustina made a face. "I told him I was sorry. It was way back in the Fifth Age too. Is he still not over it?"

"You could have offered to pay for it."

"I used all of my money on alchemical ingredients." Faustina shook her fist at him. "I was so close to creating sanguine-steel." She glared at him viciously. "And then you just had to go and make that stupid sword of his completely out of the stuff."

"I got sick of watching you fail. It was funny for a while, but then it just started to get sad." Doomwing laughed. "Have you worked out how to make it yet?"

"Yes," Faustina hissed. "It took me another five hundred years, but I worked out how to make it."

"I notice that you're not carrying any around with you," Doomwing pointed out.

"It turns out you need the scales of a primordial dragon to make the best quality sanguine-steel." She batted her eyelashes in what was probably supposed to be a beguiling manner. "So…?"

"Not happening. I actually like Marcus, which is why I made him his sword. I tolerate you, which is why you get nothing," Doomwing said. "Why are you even down here?"

"I am trying to make flow-steel." Faustina folded her arms across her chest. "It is a material that can alter its shape at will yet harden to take on the same physical properties as the very mightiest of metals. I have reason to believe that several of the key ingredients can be found here. I have purchased them and intend to try my luck at making it."

"You know, I could tell you…"

"Don't you dare!" Faustina shrieked. "There's no sense of accomplishment if you just tell me the answer!" She scowled. "Why are you here anyway? Are you here just to torment me?"

"Do you really think I'd go out of my way to torment you?" The flat look she gave him told him exactly what she thought. "If you must know, I'm running a few errands. However, I am curious… do you not know what's happening in the far north?"

"The far north?" Faustina shook her head. "Not a clue, and I don't really care. Apart from flow-steel, I'm also investigating a number of interesting materials that can only be crafted using components from this region. That dryad has been surprisingly accommodating in exchange for me making a few things for her."

"An umbral veil has formed in the far north. It covers several kingdoms' worth of land."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Bullshit."

He laughed. "Not at all. It was created when I killed a shadow dragon and dumped the body."

"…" She squinted at him. "Do you know how much of the body is left because there are a lot of things I could do with the body of a shadow dragon?"

"Since an umbral veil has formed, I would say the body has been consumed to create it. However, the area is currently being fought over by almost every ancient of reasonable power, including Marcus."

"An umbral veil, huh?" Faustina rubbed her chin. "I've never seen one before. The vampire homelands were destroyed before I was born. I would really like to study it…" She grinned craftily. "Do you think Marcus would give me free rein to study it and carry out my research if I helped him win?"

"You'd have to ask him." Doomwing managed to keep from cackling. This was exactly what he wanted. Ah… if only he could watch the chaos unfold when Faustina showed up. His criticisms aside, Faustina was one of the most brilliant alchemists he'd ever met. She was definitely the best vampire alchemist he'd ever met, and the only people he knew who were more skilled and knowledgeable were people like him who had Ages of extra experience to draw on.

"Hmm… the far north is pretty far, but if I leave right now and I use that thing I made…" She trailed off, muttering to herself incomprehensibly. She shook herself and then nodded to the merfolk shaman. "I'm afraid I'll be leaving a bit early."

The shaman, who had watched their exchange with amusement, laughed. "You have already settled payment with us. You may leave whenever you wish."

"Thanks." Faustina grinned. "If I help Marcus win, he'll have to reward me. I have been running low on funds lately, so I can get him to set up a research academy for me. I'll have my own minions, and I can probably badger him into coughing up regular funding. Heh. This solves all my problems." She nodded at Doomwing. "Thanks for telling me." Her eyes narrowed. "But what's in it for you?"

"Your eccentricity aside, you will be of great use to Marcus." Doomwing could probably finagle his mirror into letting him observe Marcus without the vampire knowing. Yes, with the right modifications, he should even be able to broadcast what the mirror saw to his location, so he wouldn't have to stay in his volcano all the time or bring his mirror with him. "That is reward enough for me."

"You big softie," Faustina said before she vanished in a sudden burst of magic.

The shaman blinked. "What just happened?"

"She used a teleportation charm. It brought her back to the surface not far from the mouth of the estuary." He sharpened his senses further. "And now she's transforming into a group of bats and flying north."

"Can vampires do that?" The shaman made a face. "I've only met two vampires, but that seems very strange."

"Different vampire lineages specialise in different things." Marcus's lineage specialised in illusions, mind control, and leadership. It was one of the reason he hadn't fallen prey to Kagami's pre-emptive strike. "Her particular lineage is known for shape-shifting, usually into bats, wolves, or other such animals."

"Interesting." The shaman stared at Doomwing. "Do you need anything from us? We'd be happy to help if you do."

Doomwing considered the question. He did have a few things he wouldn't mind picking up while he was here. "Actually…"

Author's Notes

After this, Doomwing will begin his return trip to his territory. It'll be faster than the initial trip since he's really just picking things up since he got everything organised on his way out.

The dryads are generally organised into generations based on their level of descent from Mother Tree. Mother Tree's daughters are called First Daughters, their daughters are called Second Daughters, and so on. Every dryad alive can instinctively trace their lineage. In general, First Daughters are older than the others although there are some, like Daphne, who are much younger for a variety of reasons.

Rhizophora is a bit of an oddball since she lives in an estuary and consorts with merfolk. Her relative youth is part of why she doesn't mind merfolk since many of the older dryads still remember the Third Catastrophe and do not think too kindly of the sea and its denizens. That said, I think Mother Tree would be quite happy to see one of her descendants getting along so well with merfolk since she was on good terms with them too despite rarely seeing them due to her position.

Faustina is an ancient vampire, and as you can see, ancient vampires very often have history with each other. She's a bit… odd too, but she's definitely talented, and Doomwing sending her Marcus's way is both a way of helping his friend and trolling him. He can also honestly say that he didn't specifically send her to Marcus. Instead, he simply told her about the umbral veil, and she came up with the entire thing on her own.

She will definitely be a big help since she can make all manner of exotic substances that can be used for weapons, armour, buildings, rituals, and other stuff. Doomwing isn't keen on recruiting her since they don't get along particularly well. Instead, they can really only get along in small doses. Besides, he's hoping the dwarves can fill some of that role, along with Daphne. He's also planning to do some more recruiting from the kingdoms near his territory, so he's confident of finding someone who can handle it. If not, he'll just have to train someone using his own special training style. And, yes, alchemy training will also involve multiple near-death experiences.

323

SecretTwelve

Feb 14, 2024

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