Chapter 181: Slayers

The village had stood for centuries, mostly unchanged but for the ebb and flow of the sea, the people, and as always, the monsters. It was a peaceful place far from the reach of Frostway, and so long as the tithe kept coming, they were mostly left alone. It suited them fine.

 

Then the dragon came.

 

He took the fattest cornudons and two villagers before permanent sentries were picked by the Elders. By then, they had learned to fear the skies. Some said that the price of isolation was clear: no one would come to save them. Others said that many things came from Frostway. Salvation was never one of them.

 

It was a big surprise to see the foreigners come. They had skins of different colors, hair braided or cut in strange ways, and their wealthy clothes reflected several styles they had never seen before. The healer said that mana burnt around them like a pyre and they said that if any group of humans could possibly defeat the dragon, it would be them.

 

The foreigners said they were from the New Empire, an ember rising from the ashes of what was thought to be forever lost. Many worried that those were liars, or invaders, but none dared speak for the New Imperials were rich and mighty.

 

When dawn came, however, only one of them started the climb. The others stood and waited, and so the villagers did the same, and they prayed.

 

***

 

He was angry.

 

Anger was a familiar emotion, but also an ephemeral one. Anger was for those who opposed him, and they didn’t live long. Anger, long anger, was new. New and very unpleasant.

 

As was the anomaly.

 

Existence followed rules. The beasts fought each other at the bottom. This was known. The bipeds ruled over some beasts, gathered in places of stone and dead wood. This had been a shock, but not a great one. It did not challenge existence. The bipeds could wield some of the colors, though not all and never many at the same time. It marked them as more resourceful, but still not like him. None of them saw fate, for example.

 

No matter what new thing came into Existence, it belonged in a spot beneath him.

 

This was the truth of existence.

 

Or it had been, until that morning.

 

He moved and his healing wing sent a painful sting of protest. Anger surged again. He hissed at a rock, a bone, but they were not the cause of anger.

 

Confusion was another new thing. Like long anger, confusion was unpleasant. He wanted to banish it but could not. It was also part of him. Still, he refused to handle it. He was dragon. Confusion and long anger were for weaklings who could not burn their issues.

 

Pain returned. He huffed fire, causing shadows to dance on the cavern floor. The air smelled bad from the meat spoiling in the distance. He considered changing lairs.

 

Another flash of anger came with the thought that he ought to just clean after himself. That was a weak thought.

 

Anger and confusion hounded him until he could stand it no longer. He peeled off the layer of emotional pain among those memories. Perhaps the confusion could be reduced?

 

The anomaly.

 

It felt like a dragon, yet was not. It felt caring, yet he had never been cared for. It was biped shaped yet strong.

 

Only the weak could touch only one color. This was understood as the truth of Existence. The anomaly could touch only one color but it was strong. It could move the world with a mana that had no color. It could not perceive fate, yet fate covered it like a cocoon.

 

The dragon coughed, an unfamiliar feeling. Painful. A little bit of fire stayed in his lungs, and that made him more angry.

 

The anomaly could use mana better than him.

 

He roared. The anomaly could not do this! It could touch one color only, and he was still better at every other one! Yet why could it stand against him, as a biped?

 

This made no sense.

 

He was above and the bipeds stayed below. It was understood as truth. Was the anomaly a false biped then? Was it something else? If then, was it his equal, or was it a fluke? Both possibilities made him angrier and more confused.

 

He coughed again. There was an unpleasant taste on his tongue, so he took another bite of fat beast. That one was growing a little sour but it was fine. The dragon was not picky. The lump of meat made him feel better but the clawing pain in his lungs made him cough again.

 

And again.

 

It made him angrier. He spat fire, then breathed the red mana, cleansing his lungs, and that made him feel a little better.

 

How can something be small yet strong? How could something touch less yet move more? Should he… try the same? But he was dragon, the top of the world.

 

The cough was deep this time, and so strong it moved his wounded wing. He shook with anger. The air was wrong, somehow. He needed the rarefied taste of the clouds. With heavy steps and a head full of unwelcome thoughts, the dragon walked out of the cavern.

 

And stopped.

 

There was… something hidden there. In a black nest that faced inward. Hidden from his senses. A small fire pushed the smoke of herbs towards him, and this time the cough was terrible.

 

No.

 

No, it could not be.

 

This was his HAVEN. His NEST. It could not be here!

The nest opened, revealing familiar eyes of the abyss. Reddish hair. An armor made of metal and cloth, the mark of the weak who did not have scales.

 

Impossible.

 

“Took you long enough,” the anomaly said.

 

The dragon blasted the shape with fire. No no no no the words formed in his mind from sounds and it was wrong, wrong to mix perfect dragon speech with those… those mouth emanations. Had to get out.

 

The anomaly fired nothingness and it swallowed his flame greedily. He wanted to punt the little thing aside. Its instincts said he should be able to, but he had tried and failed last time. Failed! He coughed again.

 

A new emotion gripped him.

 

It was panic.

 

He charged forward and the anomaly didn’t block him, but pain raked his flank when he walked by. One of his wings was not moving right yet. Still healing. He took to the skies, but so did the anomaly. Colorless mana propelled her forward.

 

He did a sharp turn, she could not follow. He was still better here! When he looked back, he saw that she had stopped. In the skies. Fate bound her to the planet in a tight embrace through the false wings anchored on her back. A flurry of seeking spells followed him. He was forced — forced! — to push them away with his own mana. The effort left him panting, lungs burning constantly. A new concept wormed its way into his head. He had been poisoned. Poisoned! But yes, it was a trick. A ruse used by the inferior. That meant he was still stronger. And bigger. It was understood. The ranking of Creation was set in stone. He turned around and fought, using his superior maneuvering to create some distance, then diving in but she started following and then casting while he was turning and losing speed. She was wearing tools, the treated skin of another beast meshed with metal torn from the earth and inscribed with those words the bipeds needed to make sense of the world. Weakness! He sneered, then saw the mountain and his cavern down below.

 

He was… he was running away?

 

He was being pushed back!

 

This was UNTHINKABLE!

 

He roared his anger once more, screaming at the anomaly. He struggled to express his feelings, which were mostly anger.

 

He needed the biped to understand that he was superior in every way.

 

For the first time in his life, he formed his thoughts into a coherent message. The meaning erupted from his soul all around, loud, so the anomaly could understand.

 

1. am. DRAGON!

 

“Oh I know. You’re just not a very good one.”

 

He screeched in rage.

 

Needed to kill her. Needed to cut through that magical skin. Needed… something sharper. He gathered gray mana, but it would not be enough. Needed something to toss.

 

A rock.

 

A rock would do. Flying towards her, he gathered the power between his claws. A painful cough almost made him break his focus but he was dragon, and he would endure! The rock formed, then gray mana propelled it forward at great speed.

 

The anomaly blinked aside, a black mana trick.

 

“Oh? Learning are we?”

 

Arrogant! He was already mature… or was he?

 

Was the rock… a tool?

 

Was mana a tool?

 

Was he resorting to ruse? Against a biped?

 

His doubts returned with a vengeance, and with it, confusion followed. His control over gray mana slipped long enough for a black beam to hit his scales, darkening them and spreading a pain he failed to oust. Dark mana invaded his conduits. Foreign dark mana.

 

He dove towards the sea, trailing mana and droplets of blood. Another cough wracked his form.

 

***

 

Frosthawk couldn’t believe his eyes. The cloudy sky above the fishermen village was the scene of a duel between flying monsters, a shock of spells that tore vivid lines across the heavens, visible clearly from down here. So far. Cold spread with the use of concentrated black mana. The booms of distant explosions shook the leaves on nearby trees.

 

That girl wasn’t facing a dragon. She was… beating it? Arguably, it wasn’t a huge dragon but… between this and the other one hiding behind a hill. The scene was simply surreal. Unbelievable.

 

Someone slapped his shoulder. He recognized Sidjin, apparently her paramour. The genius archmage gave him a smug smile.

 

“First time?”

 

***

 

He plunged into the water, and the anomaly didn’t follow. The blue was thicker than the gray, and here he would have an advantage. A ruse. A ruse! He had to resort to a ruse!

 

Why?

 

How?

 

Suddenly, the blue parted around him. He looked up to see the sky. Liquid walls tore away from him, but he was too slow to react. A volley of spells erupted on his back, wounding him more and forcing yet another cough. He was choking. Too much effort, not enough air. Never enough air. He pushed more inside but it helped little. Too little. Life mana struggled to close his wounds. It was as if he was fighting the gashes themselves.

 

“Are you a fish?”

 

I AM DRAGON!

 

He surged. He could not run away. He could not fight from afar. He HAD to win in close quarters, and nevermind that his memory told him he had tried before. The anomaly was a biped, thus she was weak. She was weak, therefore he had to win. He had to win, but failed to kill her at range, thus he had to close in. There could be no alternatives.

 

[Aspect of the Guardian]

 

Claw smashing on a shield, barely denting it. Attempt to spit fire. Cough. Fail.

 

“Shatterstar.”

 

The shield exploded. Hexagons of nothingness bit into his flesh, opening more wounds that would not heal, took more life mana, and bled more. The anomaly’s presence grew more intense as well. The longer the fight lasted and the deeper its, no, her core burnt, and the more he could taste the froth of his lungs. She was killing him. He fought and threw everything he had. She blinked away, then her anchors planted themselves once again.

 

[Aspect of the Destroyer]

 

Power. Black and monochrome. More than he could bring out himself. Fate tied them together now until all he could see was the viridescent ring in her abyssal eyes. He could still not understand, but he was now believing. Believing he might not be the strongest. The realization cracked his mind, his focus.

 

She exposed her tiny fangs. She was, he realized, having fun.

 

“Not everyday I can just let go, you know? Fully let go.”

 

You are not mother.

 

“Not to you, no, to your sister.”

 

He tasted the truth in her words as gray mana kept him airborne and her own power focused to a sharp edge.

 

“Listen well, because I will only get to say this once,” she said.

 

Her grin was, for a split second, infinitely cruel.

 

She should not be having so much fun.

 

“I ate your brother. He was delicious.”

 

That was it.

 

That. Was. It. He broke and ran for it, but blades of hungry void bit into his wings, the gray no longer enough to support his lungs and his flight. He plummeted, seeing the grass below, and in the distance, a white form. Familiar, somehow.

 

The dragon crashed down, tried to lift his head, then gave up.

 

***

 

The villagers watched the dragon take to the sky, and the witch followed. The human battled the mythical monster high above them, one on one, over a background of gray clouds pressed by the winds. They moved too fast for peaceful villagers to follow, but they could see the flames, the air, the stones, light and darkness, great cuts and clouds and expanding spheres. Sounds of fury, destruction and on occasion, a free laugh silenced everything below. Even the raucous birds kept quiet while on the sea, the fishermen lowered their sails.

 

After a long battle, the dragon fell. They saw it fall. They turned to each other with disbelief. The dragon had fallen.

 

The witch had won.

 

The wind picked up, raising the standard on the foreigners’ tent. It was a white pyramid on a black field, with dragon wings on the side.

 

It was curiously fitting.

 

The villagers moved closer, drawn in by inexorability.

 

***

Stolen novel; please report.

 

Viv needed to pick a specialization, but she’d do it later. There was much to do right now.

 

I will take it from here.

 

She considered Arthur, now standing over the bloodied shape of her brother. It was… very weird seeing a dragon wounded like that. A part of her saw Arthur in his stead, which filled her with dread, but the major emotion was satisfaction.

 

Arthur’s brother was an asshole. A violent asshole. And a moron. She was glad to have taught him a lesson, and there was hope for him yet, but redeeming him wouldn’t bring back all the people he’d killed. Now, the country would heal, and perhaps Arthur would make things better. She’d done what she could. Ultimately, educating an adult feral dragon was outside of her expertise.

 

She’d have to trust her daughter.

 

“Are you sure? What happened to me felling him alone?”

 

You did.

 

Now I teach him.

 

Another kind of fear took hold over Viv’s heart.

 

“What if he—”

 

I am not stupid.

 

I will never let my guard down around him.

 

He is cunning.

 

A mix of shame and disbelief shook Arthur’s large frame. Her brother let out a piteous cough, eyes clouded by pain.

 

He is also embarrassingly dumb.

 

I will not underestimate how stupidly he can act.

 

Her brother lifted his head and roared, or tried to. Without looking, Arthur moved her hips. Her tail whacked her brother’s head with the deafening crack of a whip’s end. A few of the smaller scales flew alongside a few droplets of blood.

 

Her brother whined.

 

“Wow.”

 

He must understand defeat.

 

“Ok, well, you’re the better dragon here.”

 

I will feed him to help him heal.

 

Her brother sniffed the air. An enticing scent covered that of blood. Seared fresh fish. And something else.

 

Give.

 

Arthur’s claws clamped on her brother’s neck in response to the imperious demand. He whined again.

 

Sweet fish sauce is for dragons who behave.

 

Her brother considered his situation for the first time, apparently, in his life.

 

Give, please?

 

Viv decided that her daughter had the situation well in hand. In paw. Well, whatever. She turned to the assembly of mages now standing at a distance, whispering among themselves. Frosthawk was still processing the presence of Arthur and the dragon’s defeat. Viv approached him first.

 

“So, convinced?” she casually asked.

 

There was no response. Frosthawk just shook his head slowly, unable to process the recent events.

 

Well, she’d gotten worse responses. Viv was about to walk to the village and confirm the good news, but the nearby portal flashed again, and a person she’d never expected walked through. A plain northerner in lowly scribe robes, Lim the Fell-handed was one of the most unassuming persons Viv had ever met, but that meek appearance was a constant deception that hid one of the most twisted, unrepentantly evil minds Viv had ever encountered. Lim could not be redeemed. She could only be directed.

 

“What are you doing here?” Viv coldly asked in the northern tongue.

 

“Your golem sent for me. He said that you requested him to wait until your victory was secured, but you didn’t say he couldn’t send help,” the sinister woman replied with a ghastly smile. “Helock was getting a little tense. I’m happy to come here to lend my expertise.”

 

Viv considered sending the woman towards the Pure League, but if she was hired by Solfis, then she’d probably refuse. And besides… there was one aspect of her plan that demanded underhanded tactics. They were the kind the temple would sternly disapprove of.

 

“There is something you could help with.”

 

Viv explained her plan. Lim’s smile only grew wider.

 

“Aye, that will work nicely. Turn their strength against them. I’ll ask for some help from your boys since we’ll need to spread out. Alright. I’ll be off then. Carrying out your will… Hehehe.”

 

Viv watched her leave. She hoped the liberation of the Jewel would balance her karma a bit.

 

***

 

“Messenger birds report that a caravan came from the east. It carried metal tools, grandmother. Hoes and spades and saws. Hammers and nails. Axes. Chisels. All of them well made,” Marus said in a subdued tone.

 

“Then she has the backing of a powerful nation. Hmm.”

 

It did not come as a surprise considering the quality of the girl’s gear. Arana considered her options, but there really only was one.

 

“Have the Eye contact the soldiers. Find every infected village. Track down and destroy the caravan. Hang the servants. Confiscate the tools. Have the leaders of every family who accepted a gift from a foreigner executed for treason. If the entire village succumbed to temptation, have them cleanse it.”

 

“Understood.”

 

“There was something else,” Arana said, sensing further trouble ahead.

 

“The witch and her people. They defeated the dragon.”

 

Silence filled the room. It was raining outside, but the palace was a fortress. Thick walls blocked the pitter-patter but not the wet cold that came with it.

 

“Recall my best Eyes. We will need assassins, for they are the only ones that can slay a mage of that power. I will have a ship ready just in case…”

 

“Grandmother?”

 

“It should not come to that, however we may now deduce that she garnered the favor of both Guardian Cerus and Archmage Frosthawk. I shall let the border guards know they should… take a step back from Cerus’ village. Have Frosthawk’s children brought in from the Jewel. I believe their presence has suddenly become very valuable.”

 

“Very well.”

 

“Marus,” Arana said to her grandson’s worried back.

 

“What?”

 

“We still hold the cards because the tools of control are still in our hands. Our ancestors withstood centuries of aggression, and she’s just one woman. Remember that.”

 

“Yes.”

 

***

 

“Why is it I gotta dig when we got those fancy mages moving mud around with a wave of their stupid hands?” Nag asked.

 

By her side, Feather planted her spade in the wet soil and sighed. She turned her dark, rich folk eyes to Nag who knew she was gonna get another earful.

 

“Do you see any fancy mages around?”

 

“Nay.”

 

“Then dig!”