by Laynie Bynum
That wasn't a pleasant image, but he was glad to have the blessing so he didn’t have to harm anyone. He hated the thought of harming meres, but they were predators and as wild as the seas they lived in. Without her darts, he might have had to. I’ll have the liver by tomorrow.
She pulled ahead of him a little and turned to face him, swimming backward at the same pace he swam forward. He could almost make out the scales he knew were there, growing larger and thicker as they went down, covering her body from her skull, shaped for slicing through water, to her powerful tail. Merfolk had no use for clothes, but she was anything but attractive to his eye. Talisala was said to be a stunning beauty by their standards, though, and he no doubt looked utterly repulsive to them. But contrasting beauty standards was not the task at hand, as interesting as it might have been.
"By tomorrow, then. Well played, for a god."
It seemed that, in addition to being—allegedly—a merfolk queen of great beauty, she had just given him permission to ask for what he really came for. He chose to interpret it that way, though it was probably true anyway.
She would have naturally assumed there were land-based solutions to his sleeping dragon problem, but by dealing with a kraechen for her in exchange for processing its poisonous liver, he’d save many merfolk warriors' lives. It would earn him a favor without having to ask for one—she’s be in his debt, and Talisala had always hated leaving debts unpaid. More importantly, perhaps, she’d also save face, rather than appearing to cave in to some land-dweller’s demands.
"I suppose you didn't come only for sleeping dragons."
Onen smiled, even knowing she wouldn't recognize that expression. She knew a little of his original language, which was how they were able to communicate at all. Merfolk relied on body language more than on vocalizations, except for the simplest warnings and directions.
He kicked those random thoughts away and focused. Of course I did. But, if you were so inclined, I do have a plan that suits your magic quite well.
"Which is?"
I'm going to trap Drag'naath in a prison. He outmaneuvered me, and now has the stone I need to power the prison, but there is one other power source strong enough.
Her gills flew wide open, and her second-eyelid snapped shut and open several times. "You... Seriously?"
Yes. I'm deadly serious. He's taken everything I care about, other than Iynia itself. I won't let him have that, too.
She cocked her head, which was interesting. That was among the few gestures that crossed boundaries. Elves, humans, mere, oirineids, and everyone else cocked their heads when they were curious and surprised. Even dogs did it.
At the moment, though, it wasn't amusing. I’ll use dragons to power his magical prison, adding my power, too.
"That will entrap you, as well, but as the prison’s creator, you won’t be frozen in time. You’ll experience every lonely moonrise alone, with no one but your dragons in torpor for company."
He'd hoped to hear a different answer, but magic of almost every type worked on the same set of fundamental principles. I’m aware of that. I'm not afraid of being stuck in the prison.
"Since you know what you’re doing, and the consequences, I trust you to have thought this out. I’ll help you capture the evil one. Even down here, his influence is felt. But, what could I do? You mustcreate your own trap,if you wish to power it yourself."
You, dear queen, could simply help me set the trap for Dag'draath.
When the sun was at its apex, and the shadows were at their zenith, the small dragon army approached the great hall.
Arc'homir looked around and, spotting him, approached.
Onen approached him with a smile, meeting a few dozen yards from the bravest people standing at the front of the crowd. "Good day, High King Arc'homir.
A fine year to talk.
They both shared a laugh at the different greetings of their races, but Onen quickly remembered the conversation he so desperately needed to have with the dragon, and the joy left his smile.
What troubles you? Arc'homir put one claw-tip on Onen's shoulder.
Onen looked around to see who was nearby, but they were still alone for the moment. "I have a thing I need to talk to you about, before the food arrives if possible."
Arc'honin inclined his head. Of course, whatever you need.
"Well, you know that Beru found the stone, right?"
And that he betrayed you and gave it to the evil one.
Onen nodded. "Yes. But that leaves us no closer to powering the prison and buying ourselves time to recover, to breathe, and to prepare for him."
Then we'll find another way. I lead the high dragons in saying that we look forward to joining the war and ending his threat to all Iynia, once and for all.
Onen took a deep breath and stood as tall as he could. "I'm glad you said that, because I have an idea. But it relies on dragons and your magic to work."
Beating bushes doesn't make them flowers.
It was time to get to the point, then. Onen rubbed his sweaty hands on his fur leggings to dry them and, using his magic, built up a subtle shield for his thoughts. Nothing strong enough to draw attention or even be noticed, but enough that the dragon wouldn't catch stray thoughts. That would have been a disaster. "I've found another power source great enough to continue with my plan. That is, you high dragons and your magic."
Arc'homir cocked his head to one side. What about high dragons and our magic?
"You misunderstand. You are the source. With every dragon here, we can capture Dag'draath, end the war, give the world time to rebuild—and prepare. Your energies will power the prison, for however long it remains strong enough."
Arc'homir took a step backward. You want the high dragons to sacrifice ourselves to support your temporary prison?
"No, nothing like that." Onen raised his hands. "You’d only be imprisoned with the evil one, and your only sacrifice will be of time. You'll be in a torpor, a state of almost suspended animation."
Are you serious? Arc'homir's incredulous expression turned into one of doubt. Imprison high dragons? Tell me my ears are bad.
"You won’t die, though. We need more time to prepare for him, or we all lose. If he wins,his reign would ever end. We have to stop him now or just give in to the idea that Iynia will forever be a dark, evil place. Everything you built up since before the dawn of legends will all be for nothing. Don’t you see? We have to try."
The dragon remained silent long enough for sun to shift in the sky before he replied, . I've decided.
Onen's heart sped up. Was this it? The day the dragons contributed more than words to the war? "I see. Tell me what you think."
Arc'homir bowed, far lower than usual. The sacrifice is too great. My kind are needed to rebuild this shattered world, and to defend it from the predators until the people have regained their strength.
“But, the prison— “
Your prison won’t work even if we agreed to let you use us this way. The power of all my high dragons isn't as great as you imagine.
Onen blinked twice, rapidly. How could the dragon king fail to see how urgent this was? The future of Iynia depended on stopping Dag’draath long enough to recover and prepare. Then he realized why. It was only a shortcoming of the dragons themselves. They lived for millennia, but unlike Onen and his kind, that changed how they perceived time. A year was only the blink of an eye, yet Iynia didn’t have even a year to spare. Damn Arc’homir, he’d left Onen no choice.
"Very well, old friend. No is no. As I said the first time, you may help. Our agreement still stands. After mid-day meal, we can discuss some other ideas I had and see if you find anything I overlooked. That crowd came as word spread that you’d be here. Most didn’t believe it."
Arc'homir took the time to properly bow and came back up smiling. I'm so glad you understand. I’m sure they believe now, though I wish they didn’t. Oh, look—the meal service is here.
Onen looked over his shoulder. He’d planned a banquet
, knowing word had spread, and his kitchen staff and every available worker were now busily loading rows of tables with every manner of food, enough for the crowd—and for dragons, if they shifted. “So it is. It’s in your honor. You should greet the crowd so they don’t think I’m friends with monsters of legend.”
Arc’homir paused, then shrugged his massive shoulders. He moved front-and-center to face the gathering crowd, the ground shaking with each step. He certainly had the crowd’s attention. He reared up on his hind legs, holding clawed front feet up and spreading his wings to their full extent. He drew his head back like a snake about to strike.
All in all, the melodramatic pose was awe-inspiring, even to Onen, and the crowd murmured as they began to back away. Their fear was palpable.
Just before Onen decided he had to intervene to prevent a widespread panic, however, Arc’homir’s thoughts roared out to everyone in the crowd, and probably all the way beyond the castle behind them. Welcome, human friends. I, Arc’homir, High King of the dragons, greet you in peace.”
A shimmer formed around him and then coalesced into glittering tendrils that wrapped around the dragon king. His image flickered, replace by that of a human for a moment. Then it did so again, but they moved fast enough to blur him completely.
When the tendrils faded in the next instant, where a dragon had stood a hundred meters tall, only a human remained. Arc’homir-the-human looked every bit like a storybook king, complete with resplendent robes of ermine and fox, a ruby-studded crown, and a broadsword at his side.
Arc’homir was certainly a handsome human, well-muscled, with deep blonde hair that flowed in ringlets nearly to his shoulders. High cheekbones and broad jaw accentuated eyes with the most piercing red irises. He was the image of how every nobleman wished they looked.
A cheer arose from the crowd, and those who had shrunk back at the display of raw power now pressed forward, everyone eager for a better view of the dragon high king.
Onen, grinning, raised his hands up and motioned for them to quiet down. Once he was sure he could be heard over the crowd, he called out, “Welcome to the high dragons. Welcome, my people. Welcome to those of you who are only here because the war destroyed your homes. To you all, I open the tables. Eat, drink, and be merry!"
A spattering of applause broke out, but everyone seemed to have more interest in the food and the dragons than the speech.
Onen smiled. They’d have to be content with seeing the dragon king from a distance. He and Onen naturally had a separate table, so they could talk and eat without being disturbed.
Servers came out, each with a tray, and began to serve the dragons, while at the secondary long tables, the refugees faced a table laden with truncheons and food stacked two feet high.
His plan was unfolding nicely. Unfortunately, this was what the whole world needed. Iynia couldn’t recover with Dag’draath in it, but it might recover someday without Onen... and without dragons.
In the years to follow, if all went well, the people of Iynia would gain the time they needed to find new solutions to the problem of an evil god running amok, better than what he'd been trying to do. Onen’s plan right now had the big advantage of working immediately. All he had to do was to force dragons to go with him against their wills.
That made it a hard choice, and a couple of times while setting it up, his resolve had wavered. In the end, though, he knew it had to be done.
Onen made no move to stop Arc'homir and the other dragons as they clustered together near their king and began to eat a hearty meal.
After lunch, Onen and his guests, the dragons in human forms, retired to his great hall inside. Once more ale and some snacks were set out, his staff disceetly left the hall. There was the usual post-meal rowdiness and everyone talking over each other, but he recognized the kraechen poison’s effects—yawns and hands over mouths spread from one dragon to the next almost like it was contagious. "You look half asleep, Arc'homir. Let's go to your guest chamber, and you can try to walk off some of that exhaustion."
"Odd," the dragon replied between yawns, "I'm never this tired from a midday meal. Yes, I think a doze would be good. We'll be busy soon enough, I'm sure."
"Oh, I'm sure. For now, though..." He took Arc'homir's arm and led him to the stairwell down into the bowels of his castle. Instead of turning into the king's guest dragon-chamber, however, Onen kept walking right past it. The more exertion they made, even if just walking, the faster the sleep-spelled poison would work.
Arc'Homir staggered. He stopped mid-stride, then looked Onen in the eyes and threw his shoulder to shrug off Onen's hand. "You poisoned me? What for?"
Dammit. Onen had forgotten to keep his walls up to block his surface thoughts. If only this hadn’t been necessary for imprisoning the evil one.
Arc'Homir’s eyes went wide. "You can't... I know what you intend. Don't do this, Onen. This... too great... a betrayal." His outline blurred for a moment, but he didn't have the power left to shift to his dragon form. Not that it would have helped, not now that the poison was coursing through him.
Onen caught Arc'honin just as his legs buckled, and brought him gently to the floor. Onen would carry him to a bed soon but, for now, he struggled too much. He might hurt himself, and Onen didn't want that on his conscience.
"Relax, my dragon friend. It's only sleep, and it'll be over in a blink of time by your standard. Shh... You have to understand, this is for the world, not for me. I have to protect Iynia from Dag'draath, and I can't do that if he wins. We have to imprison him. Time just ran out for us all. I'm sorry. I'm only doing what no one else can do. And you're a part of saving the world..."
The dragon man's eyes were closed and his breathing had become slow, so slow, and rhythmic.
It was done. The dragons were in torpor, an induced hibernation caused by magic and kept going by the dragons' own power.
A woman's voice came behind him, and it sounded exactly as it had underwater. "Onen, are you ready? The time is here. We must be fast."
He turned to face the merfolk queen. "Talisala, thank you. It worked, so far." His eyes roamed over her. Her hair still dripped salt water. The rest of her had dried enough for her tail to split into legs and for her skin to smooth and lighten until she was the palest, faintest blue. Only then did he see what the merfolk saw in her. If she was as beautiful to them in her natural form as she was standing before him as a bare-skinned human, it was a wonder she hadn't picked a mate yet.
Realizing he was staring, he averted his eyes. "Yes, I'm ready. You remember the plan, right?"
She didn't react for a second, then cocked her head to one side. At last, she nodded her head, very slowly. She might have looked essentially human, but her every reaction was a merefolk's, and she was without her fins. It took a moment for her to remember the right movements. "Yes. We relocate your temple, this castle. But every human in it will stay behind, thanks to my magic. You only need to say when I should do so."
Onen smiled and nodded.. "Now, please. And thank you for your help."
Abruptly, his vision blurred and split, giving him double-vision. A low hum that he felt as much as heard radiated from everywhere at once. The merfolk sang their magic songs, and the beauty of it swept him away until it was the only thing he was aware of in the world—
The phantasmal singing stopped just as suddenly as it had started and, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes, he looked out the window. All was silent except the wind outside gently moaning, but through the window, everything looked different. Gone were the green trees, the blue skies, the clouds, even Gleet showing the way south. Now there was only smoke and ash, and a rain falling that wasn't rain, but stones. Everything he saw was tinged in lavender colors.
A bit farther out, as his eyes refocused better, he saw why it all was lavender—fires burned everywhere out there, but it was the stone ground itself burning. The world was engulfed in that purple flame.
“What happened?” Onen gently set Arc'homir's head down and staggered
to his feet. As he tried to reach the window, he veered back and forth, but then realized it wasn't him.
The ground shook with such violence, only the magic that built his castle kept it intact. His temple wasn't threatened by any natural danger, but the quake still threw him around, some.
The rocking and shaking seemed to be subsiding, though. He made it to the great hall, where many dragons slept and no servants could be seen. The merfolk queen had been as good as her word and had left his people behind, where they couldn't be trapped in the spell. That was a relief.
He flung open the great hall’s front doors, each weighing half a ton, and fought the earthquake forces trying to knock him down as he made his way toward the wide-open front gate.
Before he got there, a boiling mass of black mist rose from the ground, seemingly made of shadow itself, but it faded away, leaving behind a tall, muscular, man where the shadow-mist had been. He wore hammered plate armor so black that it seemed to suck in the light around it, always in shadows that half-covered its wearer’s face.
"Dag'draath." Onen drew his sword in one hand, blue dagger in the other. "Come inside my temple."
"No, thanks. I don't know what you're up to, Onen Suun, but it won't work. Why do you keep resisting me? I can't kill you, but I can kill most anything else you care about in this world, just for fun."
"You already took what I care about, dark one. Draw your weapons and come fight me. Let's see who dies."
"Again, no. You can't kill me unless I agree to fight, and why would I do that?"
"Why not?"
Dag'draath threw his head back and laughed. "Indeed. Why not. Mostly because I don't want you dead. You're entertaining. Do you know why I did this to our helpless little world, started a war that engulfs it? Guess. Just one guess, go ahead."
"Who knows why evil does what it does?" Onen lunged with his sword, and though it would cut through anything on Iynia like an arrow through parchment, it stopped mid-swing when it touched Dag'draath.
"See? We can't kill each other."
