Dragon Core

by Sain Artwell

  “The long dry one over the huge one. That one, yes…” Sofi shouted above the churning of waterfalls.

  Alron hovered by the lip of a pipe coated in a mixture of rust, rot, and pure curse—the kind which accrues only in the vilest of unclean places. He helped Sofi inside before folding his wings and bending his head down so he’d fit inside the goop caked tunnel. Tiny critters with burning orange antennae scurried into hiding.

  Sofi gestured him to follow, urgency and fear thick in her voice. “I’ve never seen anyone like that woman. She’s like you, Alron? Isn’t she?”

  Our sweetling darling precious daughter…

  “Very much so, yes,” said Alron, finding it easier to walk if he held his bleeding guts in place with a claw.

  Sofi breathed out little wisps of orange flames to light the way. “This is bad, oh this is bad. She’ll tell Rasdrev we are here. If they saw my face we won’t… If I can’t meet with Mlevanosk, everything’s ruined. An army of redcloaks will be guarding her now, not to mention that warrior. If there are others like her, will you be able to defeat them?”

  “Hm.” Alron followed the uneven bumps on the ground, focusing on placing one foot before the other. “If there are others… Who can say?”

  “Alron, you… You knew her?” Sofi paused.

  “She’s ours!” Fei’s fiery face took a humanoid likeness. “I don’t even have memories of carrying her… I don’t remember touching her, or holding her, but I touched her, I did, I hugged her, and she hugged me back. My hatchling, my darling’s darling hatchling girl, she hugged her mommy back.”

  “She tried to kill you,” he reminded Fei.

  Fei smiled. “She’s confused. Poor hatchling, she’ll understand. You know what we must do, right, Alron? You know we need to save her.”

  “What’s… Wha…” Sofi stuttered. “Apologies, but… You can’t be serious.”

  Alron spoke, “She is our firstborn.”

  “OH.” Sofi’s eyes widened as she drew a long breath. “Oh. Oh, I see. That… That. I see. That is quite something. Right, you two are rather advanced in the years. Of course you would have offspring, of course. That woman, she was quite uh…”

  “That she was.” Alron gave Sofi a faint grin.

  “Beautiful, so gorgeous! Like Nvei and Tolron, just like mommy imagined… We can’t kill her, we shouldn’t. Alron, we can’t. She’s everything we are,” Fei said, pleading with a crazy grin. “We can’t… She is…”

  “…our daughter,” he finished. Alron set his jaw, considering their situation.

  “I-imagine if we… if we’d raised her. She might have a family of her own!” Fei was again about to slip into despair.

  Alron caught her off. “We’ll plan around her. She’s mighty, but nothing to us at our peak. We don’t need to kill her to defeat the Ascendancy.”

  “But we aren’t at our peak. Not without the others…”

  “Mlevanosk will soon be with us,” said Alron.

  “Yes, yes! Let’s hurry and save her. I want to see her face again. She’ll figure out a way for us to save Dente.”

  Alron noticed Sofi sighing. She led them quietly through the tunnels, a troubled frown on her lips.

  What must she have thought of them? Two awakened warriors fuzzing over sparing an enemy, when Sofi herself was convicted to die for them—two strangers she’d only heard in rumor and tale until recently. What must she have thought of two fools distracted by instinct and parental greed?

  Alron dared not even imagine whether he’d be able to put his quest before Dente’s life.

  Sofi coughed, holding her voice firm as she said, “It’s a few hours to Draintown, if we don’t get lost. We have a contact there who might be willing to shelter us. The same person who helped smuggle the materials for the amphibious vehicle, which your battleship broke.”

  “Still upset about that?” Fei asked.

  “No. Apologies, I look forward to setting Mlevanosk free.”

  Chapter 11 - A Blackmetal Day

  In the bowels of Blackmetal City—in Draintown—colossal pipes hissed in a steady droning rhythm. Sofi hustled up narrow stairs bolted to the side of a hundred feet thick water-duct. Fog shrouded her and her companions from the sprawling scrap metal slums, which grew on the pipes like tumors. Nevertheless, as they reached an inconspicuous hatch located in a nook halfway up the stairs, Sofi couldn’t shake off the tightness of worry from her chest.

  She banged the rusty metal. Five quick knocks, followed by five slow knocks—repeated after a half-minute pause.

  “Allow me,” Alron said. He stepped up, pinning Sofi between blackmetal and his massive seven-foot-something frame, which consequently felt as hard as the door and quite capable of ripping the latter off its hinges. He reached for the seams in the metal.

  Sofi clasped his massive wrist, blurting words as fast as she could. “The pipes are pressured; if you open it, we’ll be blasted off the stairs.”

  Whenever Alron paused to momentarily study her—the way he now did—Sofi felt as if she’d been stripped naked, rolled through the woods until she turned feral, and caught by a primordial beast who might devour her on a fleeting whim.

  Whether that frightful presence of his was a natural result of a secluded life on an island of murderous beasts, or an attribute of his dragonsoul, Sofi could not tell. Whatever the case, his mere presence demanded awe as casually and unconditionally as a forgemaster’s whistle.

  “Hm,” Alron grunted in faint dismay, and pulled back to cradle Fei under his arm. “Let us give them a few moments then, until we proceed with an alternative.”

  “Thank you.” Sofi sighed in relief.

  Alron’s alternatives seemed to eschew planning altogether in favor of walking a straight line to his objective, regardless of the consequences.

  Sofi produced the bag with three vestiges gifted to her by Lord of the Wealdfolk and offered them to Alron. “You take these. The Plumber might be able to hire a fleshbender to get you fixed.”

  “Such a good dearie, but keep them. You’ll die and suffer if you stay that weak,” Fei said, eyes lazy and voice lacking her typical fervor.

  Sofi pursed her lips, averting Fei’s eyes.

  Alron accepted the bag. “I shall hold onto them.”

  “Thank you.” Sofi gave him her best grateful smile. She repeated the password of knocks. “Plumber, it’s me, Sofierov of Mlevanosk’s Friends! Please make haste,” she whisper-shouted.

  A pair of black eyes with a white ring where an iris should be appeared behind a palm-sized window on the pipe. In a blink, the eyes retreated back into the shaded depths. After a few dozen more blinks, a deep gurgling sound bellowed behind the hatch. Nearby pipes spewed pressurised mist.

  Sofi sighed with relief. “He’ll hear us out.”

  Alron raised one of his angular dark brows. “Most unexpected to meet deepkin out here on the Abysscrawler’s shoulder.”

  “If it talks and has something to trade, chances are it’s swung by and left some spawn behind in Blackmetal City,” Sofi said, chuckling wryly.

  Neither Alron nor Fei were sparked by her joke. Understandable, given both of them had holes in their guts.

  Metal screeched. The hatch opened into a small, wet chamber.

  Plumber was a pale, spindly deepkin man. Gills sprouted behind his ears, and a flat tail as long as he was tall swiveled behind him. Like all of the deepkin, his limbs and neck were disproportionately long, his face noseless, and his eyes unblinking black balls with pale irises. All six of his backwards bending horns were branded with multiple death sentences, and enough forced labor years to build a castle.

  “Plumber!” Sofi smiled, then curbed her smile to speak in a formal request. “Friends of Mlevanosk seek refuge for our two allies.”

  Plumber pulled a wet goldleaf joint from one of his many pouches, and tipped it towards Sofi. She lit it up with her dragonfire.

  “Mzara zarah,” Plumber said in deepkin, his voice incredibly soft.


  “Mzara araz gze, and Deep Ones’ blessings upon you,” said Alron.

  Plumber drew a long breath of goldleaf, eyeing Alron warily. “You’ve got a Deepfathom stink about you.” Pausing, he took another drag. “Common sense says to ask what in the stars you are, but I’ve a tingling inkling it’s healthier to keep eyes on the abyss and pretend a leviathan didn’t just swim by. Come on in, Mlevanosk’s Friends are our friends.”

  “Appreciated,” said Alron, stepping in with Fei. He looked back to Sofi, and asked, “Will you not be joining us? You’re more road-weary than either of us.”

  Sofi shook her head, and remained on the stairs. “Mlevanosk needs to be informed of your arrival. She’ll know how we should proceed from here. In fact, I’d better hurry, considering we don’t know the depth of that woman’s involvement and cooperation with Blackmetal City. I should really be running already.”

  “Are you safe to travel the city alone?” he asked.

  Hello, it’s my home! She wanted to say.

  Sofi smiled warmly. “I’ll be fine. It’s not half as dangerous as traveling with you.” She laughed nervously. “I’ll be back by tomorrow, or the day after at the latest.”

  A somber smile touched his lip, and Alron nodded in acceptance. “Good luck.”

  Sofi thanked him and, when the airlock was shut, left the two in the Plumber’s care.

  Sofi hurried up the metal staircase to a platform beneath a cluster of shacks, and found a quiet corner with some stools. Alone, for the first time in stars know how long, weight of the journey escaped her lungs in a heartfelt whimper, and her legs finally acted like the cans of mushed muscle pudding they felt like. When her butt hit the solid metal floor, she decided this spot was good enough, and sat while rubbing her thighs.

  “Tomorrow, or the day after… You bag of bolts. How am I going to get there in a day?” Sofi clonked the back of her head against the wall.

  A hatch opened above her.

  “Shoo off, or I’ll toss you off,” snapped a deepkin woman.

  Sofi scrambled up, backing off while apologizing. She rounded the corner and gathered herself for the journey.

  North of Draintown, steam-veiled pillars disappearing to heavenly heights, where the countless forges of Blackmetal City’s Heart glowed like a sibling of the celestial Sun frozen in an eternal sunset. Over thirty miles away, the grandforges themselves were but black blips, their blurred outline more reminiscent of screws and scrap hanging from the clouds, than the colossal fortress towers they were.

  I have to climb up there, and down, by tomorrow. Sofi knelt into a ball and despaired a little.

  She was exhausted.

  The journey to find and return with Alron—especially the return trip—had sucked all fire out of her, and left her spinning on rusty gears. Traveling with him and Fei had been as bad an experience, if not worse, than when she’d slaved at a grandforge.

  Everywhere itched and ached. Not one day had passed that Sofi hadn’t woken up to find some new leeches or parasites from the swamp squirming on her legs, or hair! Not for a single day had she been able to eat, rest, or poop like a normal living wyrmkin should. Not that she had many left…

  Not that she regretted her fate! Nay!

  Joyous was the day that she’d be able to finally repay her debt to Mlevanosk, and pass the wrench on to someone who could fix the world with it. Just a little further. A few more days, then you’ll get a good rest. The thought sent a tremble in Sofi’s hands.

  “Come on now legs, do it for Mlevanosk,” Sofi cursed, and managed to crane herself back up, and leg to the nearest lift-stop.

  On the way there, Sofi cleaned herself from swamp plants to the best of her ability, and rubbed her hands on an old pipe to get some muck with which to transform herself to look like she’d been working hard all night. To be on the safe side, she also tucked her remaining coins in various nooks of her clothes, so that they wouldn’t jingle.

  Given that it was early afternoon, probably around third whistle, there weren’t all that many folks lining up to board the lifts. However, the crowd was still big enough for Sofi to blend in. If there was one thing she could pride herself with, it was in having perfected the miserable hunch-back slouch of a starving slave about to keel over from being overworked.

  “Departure. Mind the gates,” droned a tiny woman whose face had melted into layered wrinkles. The lopsided blue-brimmed hat of the lift operator looked comically oversized on her head.

  The woman twisted several handles inside the operator’s cage, placed a firemask on her face, and wheezed.

  Blue-rimmed orange flames churned through the jointed blackglass tubes and into the dragonfire-engine bolted to the underside of the lift. Dynamos creaked and pistons hissed. The eight mechanical arms attached to the sides of the lift—which Sofi now realized greatly resembled some of the upside-down hanging monkey crabs of the Wealdfront—began scaling a blacksteel cable stretching from Draintown all the way to the upper levels of Blackmetal City.

  The trip to Lower Junction passed in a whistle. Sofi had kept to herself and cleaned her tools from any swamp water stains or bits of forest that might’ve stuck on.

  She stepped off onto a platform connected to a multi-leveled network of residential complexes and loud streets filled with peddlers and thieves. Sofi sacrificed seven of her twenty coins to hire the fastest firewagon to take her to the Heart.

  It was a decade old model from the Arach Clan’s forges, a two-wheeled four-seat couch in the back, and an eight-limbed engine in the front. Though its dynamo couldn’t store much spin-energy, the model was well known amongst engineers and enthusiasts alike for its smooth pistons and excellent reliability.

  Hum of the engine and rattling of gears lulled Sofi into a state of relaxation. She leaned against her seat. Her eyes glazed over.

  The City was louder than she’d remembered. Someone was always shouting something somewhere up high on the higher balconies, or on the streets. Hunched figures, slaves, serfs, and lesser labourers trundled on like a stream of grease-stained molasses. Wyrmkin with dead eyes and skeletal bodies lounged on balconies, too tired to do more than lift a pipe of dreamleaf to their lips. In an alley, three bodies lay still. Crowflies picked flesh from their bones. Today, thousands more would perish to keep the gears of the grandforges turning.

  Nothing looked out of the ordinary. No one seemed to care about the two impossibly strong warriors having had a fight outside the city, and that a nearby logging encampment was by now overrun by thorn animated corpses.

  The air warmed as they drew closer to the Heart. Destitute alleys began to be replaced by brightly lit street-kitchens, and the drab lower classes by middling and higher labourers adorned in glowing lavaglass jewelry and clothes embroidered with colorful geometric patterns. These were the slaves who thought they were free.

  “Will you be disembarking at the Edge or elsewhere?” asked the firewagon driver.

  It took Sofi a moment to process his question, as she stared at the lavaglass jingles dangling from his black horns. “The Core, please. I’d prefer to get as close to the Cold Slab as possible.”

  “Of course. Labourer’s entrance?”

  “Labourer’s entrance,” she confirmed.

  They took a turn off the main streets and onto the web of hanging cable-bridges criss-crossing beneath and between the fortress cities of oldblood clans, grandforges, administrative buildings of the Blackmetal City, and various other towering complexes. The heat grew sweltering, forcing Sofi to strip down to her undershirt, and even that had a splotch of sweat growing between her breasts.

  When she looked up, the driver averted his eyes.

  “Your first time working at the Heart?” he hurried to ask.

  “Huh?”

  “Took me two weeks to get used to the heat,” the man—more a boy, really—chuckled. “It eases around the evening, unless they can’t open up the skyvents. Stars. Three years back, it rained iron five weeks in a row, and all that time they could
n’t vent the air once, air was burning! Burned my butt just sitting here and waiting on a patron, praying Stars to send me one on his way to the bottom. Heh.” He glanced back at Sofi.

  She smiled, nodding to feign interest. “That’s quite something.”

  “Right?!” He grinned enthusiastically.

  Drat.

  “You’ll get used to it, especially if you’re working inside the forges,” the rider said, taking them to a side-bridge, leading straight towards the Cold Slab. “I beg your understanding, I just glanced at your gear and figured you must be an engineer. I don’t mean to pry.”

  “Ha-ha… Of course.” Sofi winced, praying the Stars for quick traffic.

  The man licked his lips, slowing down to queue behind another wagon. “Do you mind if I ask who you work for?”

  Big drat. Sofi certainly didn’t want some random wagon rider to know of her comings and goings, certainly not this close to the hatching hour of Mlevanosk’s plans.

  Maintaining the pleasant smile of a harmless serf, she answered, “Actually, I’m here for an interview for a maintenance assistant position. My master promised to sell me if I can negotiate a good enough severance for him. I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but I think he’s looking to leave the City.”

  “No way?”

  “Can’t think of any other reason to sell a perfectly profitable firewagon workshop, and a hundred workers.” Sofi shrugged.

  “That’s crazy. Is he an awakened master?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Figures.” The man nodded smugly. They were so close to their destination that Sofi could nearly taste the blissful escape from her non-negotiable hostage situation. Cold Slab loomed above them, less than half-a-mile away! So close!

  She licked her lips. “Uh, how so?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure how well spread the word on this is. It’s something that’s mostly noted by the drivers.”

  “Mm-hm? Sounds interesting.” Sofi nodded, leaning to peek out the window. Ugh, was the line not moving at all?

  The driver looked both ways, as if anyone was eavesdropping on his dumb rumor, and leaned into the passenger side to whisper, “Lots of clanless awakened and smaller clans have been leaving the City. They say it’s some law-change regarding the vestige regulations, but I hear that’s a cover-up for the real truth.”