by Simon Archer
“Is it you, old sport?” Reggie said to Toda, stretching his legs like a marathon runner. “Seems you were the one calling the shots in that ritual. It would be the logical choice.”
“Oh, we decided in the real ritual yesterday that we’d help you if you asked us to.” Toda snickered.
“Yeah, we love you guys,” Kai added. “We just wanted to have a little fun with you before we left.”
Amalthea flew into the air, dusting us all as the gusts of wind carried her upward. She dived and soared through the sky above us, roaring all the while. Glyphs of every color I could name appeared in her wake, spouting gouts of fire, water, wind, light, stones, and several other things I couldn’t quite identify from here.
“Did we go too far with her?” Kai asked, looking a little worried at upsetting the powerfully magical sphinx.
“Oh, she’s just being a big baby,” Petra said with a hand wave. “She’ll get over it.” Her flora powers stretched her legs until they were ten feet long each, then she placed her hands to her mouth to call after Amalthea. “It was just a headstand! And it was only for a minute!”
The great and powerful flying witch was undeterred from her rampage in the sky.
“Wait, we just got here,” William said to Toda. “How could you possibly know that I was going to ask for your help?”
“We didn’t know that, per se,” Toda explained, “but we agreed that no matter what it was you asked of us, we’d help you.”
“A thousand battles wouldn’t be enough to repay you,” Kai added. “So, if there was anything you needed, we were more than ready to help. But we also like messing with people.”
“I can’t believe you all never suspected,” I said to them. “The whole charade was rather ridiculous, you must admit.”
“We didn’t want to say anything,” Petra admitted. “The kobolds are a different culture, after all.”
“So, we can count on your support?” William asked Toda and Kai.
“You bet!” Kai said, a fire in her eyes. “Let those drones try to take down all of us!”
22
Once the kobolds had ‘officially’ decided to join us, they immediately began packing. The Stalker tribe members all helped each other, each coming up with packs and blanket wraps full of crude tools and food for the journey. I tried to help, but these kobolds were quick movers. Before I could get a handle on what they were trying to do, they’d already moved on to the next thing to pack. So I gave up and just let them continue on their way.
Now that the Stalkers were taken care of, there was now the glaring problem to deal with: Kobolds and dwarves do not an invading force make. Even if we sent them in with full armor, we’d suffer massive casualties just to get through the front gate. Maybe we could have Petra and the dwarves make up some siege weapons to do the job, but we still had to make it through the palace to reach the Baroness.
And that was a definite maybe. It took our dryad a couple of hours to grow that giant trap, and I had a feeling that the closer we got to the Solspire, the less likely those drones would fall for it or wait around for us to finish setting up. The Drone Trap only bought time, anyway, and one was more than sufficient for that. If we tried to gather more dwarf towns or kobold tribes to bolster our invasion, we risked the ones we were keeping in Hillrock being swarmed by the larger assault party Khaba would build to overcome the trap. No matter how you looked at it, a lot of people were going to die, and I couldn’t save them all. That didn’t sit well with me.
So, I walked over to Amalthea while Reggie fitted her with some saddlebags full of things we’d gathered from the Stalker kobolds.
“Do you think the Khalati Record will have any battle strategies that could help us get into the Solspire?” I asked her. “Anything at all. Weaknesses, secret entrances, anything that could get us in.”
“I’ve been trying to find something similar, my savior,” Amalthea said, “but, sadly, during the war between the draconian hordes and the anthophilans over a thousand cycles ago, the old rulers of the spire burned any records of the structure’s blueprints to prevent the sphinxes that the draconians kept as slaves from using the Record against them.”
“Crap,” I said, rubbing my chin. The secret weakness of the Record was book burning. As if I didn’t hate that sort of thing enough. With that, our chances tilted ever more towards massacre. “See if you can find any other fortress plans or siege strategies we could use against the Solspire. Scrape the bottom of the knowledge barrel if you have to.”
“I will see what I can find, my savior,” Amalthea’s eyes glowed with mystic runes as she searched for a miracle.
“It truly is a doozy of a situation, my dear boy.” Reggie tied off the saddlebag he was working on. “If we were defending, we’d have home-field advantage and guerilla tactics to fall back on. But they can stay holed up in that fortress for as long as they like while we twiddle our thumbs on a solution. On top of that, they still have the forces to send our way to keep us busy.”
“And, from what I remember, anthophilans produce their own honey for consumption,” Libritas said to my mind. “They could keep the bulk of their forces behind the Solspire’s walls indefinitely and weather any siege.”
“Do you think we could sneak in?” Reggie proposed. “Secret ourselves inside before the drones notice us? If we could get you inside to destroy the Brand of Savagery, bam! No more drone forces. We wouldn’t need an exit strategy.”
“That’s if everything went perfectly,” I said. “If we so much as alert one drone, we’re dead, and so is everyone else as soon as they kill us. It’s far too risky for an unguaranteed payoff. I might have tried that with the Weaver and his ettercaps, but they had way less than the Baroness does.”
“And Khaba may be anticipating that since it’s the only way into the Solspire with any hope of success,” Libritas added. “He’d have a contingency for just such a plan.”
“Yeah, Khaba’s got us licked,” I said aloud before walking over to Solannus. He was finishing up packing some clay bowls he used for his medical work into a patchwork sack. When we made our way over, his face brightened at the sight of us.
“Friends!” he said while tying his bindle in a knot. “Will you be escorting us to the Hillrock town you spoke of?”
“I’m afraid we have other plans,” I said, trying to keep a happier tone. “We’ve got to find a way into the Solspire before we run out of time.”
“Do you not have a plan for taking the palace?” Solannus said, his spirits dampening at the thought. “Oh, dear. I had hoped that we would be charging off as soon as we found this town of yours. Do you at least have any leads?”
“We’re trying, good lad, I assure you,” Reggie said to the anthophilan. “We’re exhausting every outlet we can find that will lead us to a clean victory. Sadly, every strategy with the tools we have now leads to tragedy.”
“Who have you consulted?” Solannus asked us.
“Mostly the Khalati Record through Amalthea,” I explained, “but apparently, your ancestors burned almost everything useful trying to fight off the draconians--”
“Have you spoken with them yet?” he inquired. “I assume they refused to help us.”
“Wait, the draconians are still around?” I asked, a glimmer of hope rising within me. “Here, in the Marches?”
“We couldn’t just eradicate them, dear heroes,” the healer explained. “They were much more resilient than us. With only our superior numbers to our advantage, we could only push them to the southern mountain range. They’ve been there ever since. Or, at least, that’s where they were before the savageness fell upon us.”
“Holy crap,” I said. My jaw dropped practically to the floor. A whole army with all the same abilities as Shikun was just sitting in the mountains. If we could convince them to help, we could mount a decent offensive. Hell, if there were enough of them, we could wipe the floor with the drones. A huge offensive, no casualties. It was possible, after all.
“Di
d you not know about that?” Solannus said, tipping his head to meet my gaze as I stared into the distance. “I suppose that’s our fault, as well. The ancient anthophilans didn’t want any record of the draconian threat that almost brought them to their knees. They attempted to erase their memory from Etria and burn their history from the Record. But, in my frequent sojourns out of the Solspire, I was able to find traces of them.”
“Thank you, Solannus.” I snapped back to reality, shaking his hand like I was making a margarita with it. “You’ve just saved us.”
“Oh, goodness, don’t mention it.” Solannus composed himself after the sudden outburst of affection. “I live to serve.”
“Let’s not act rash, Master William,” Reggie said as I released Solannus’s hand. “Some may deem it unwise to place one’s dragon eggs in a single mountain basket. They may not be there at all.”
“If it’s between finding bupkus in the mountains and having to go ahead with a plan that would kill many innocent people or willfully doom the people into a fruitless slaughter when I could have found reinforcements, I’m choosing the first option,” I said as we both headed over to the girls. “If it means saving as many as we can, we have to take the chance. We’ll lose just as many if I’m wrong, anyway.”
“If you’re sure about this, I’m with you.” Sir Reginald clasped my forearm while I grasped his in a warrior’s gesture of camaraderie. “For better or worse, you’ve led us this far. I doubt you won’t find a way to win the day this time.”
“It’ll be a snap,” I said, making light of the work ahead to keep morale up as we found Amalthea still immersed in the Record. “If they’re anything like the Orcs, we just need to win their trust.”
“Hoping to fell another rock wyrm, William?” Reggie chuckled as he finished preparing Amalthea’s saddlebags.
“The first one was easy enough when I found out it’s got the same soft spot as any guy.” I joked back at him. “So, we have, what, a fifty-fifty chance that the next one will be the same?”
“Are we fighting a wyrm?” Petra found her way to us from making her own preparations, with Shikun close behind her. “Why would we need to do that?”
“No, we’re talking about our next lead,” I corrected her. “We’re going to find the southern tribe of draconians and gain their support in fighting the Solspire.”
“Oh,” Shikun said from behind Petra. “We’re finding others of my kind?” She retreated behind Petra in an attempt to hide. “Do you think I could stay and organize the Hillrock militia? I have a lot of tactical knowledge, and I’m a great fighter, and I could try to organize them to be a more formidable fighting force, and I can do flight reconnaissance so we can see the drones’ movements, and I won’t have to go to--”
“Whoa, whoa, Shikun!” I said, walking up to her frantic hands and putting them in mine. “You’re talking a mile a minute. Just take a deep breath.”
Shikun did as I instructed, calming her manic state.
“My dear, what has you so worked up?” Reggie said, a little bluntly. “Wouldn’t it be a smashing idea to visit some family? See some people you can recognize?”
Tears welled up in Shikun’s eyes as she fell into my shoulder, weeping as quietly as she possibly could. I had some idea of why she didn’t want to go: She wouldn’t recognize anyone there. Even if this was the clan she was taken from, she was torn from it when she was too young to make any lasting ties. More than that, she was wingless. The fiery wings Libritas gave her did their job, but that didn’t hide the fact that her original wings were gone. From the way she reacted when we first met her, that was a serious sign of weakness in the eyes of the draconian culture, something even their children knew of.
“They’ll hate me,” she said in a muted breath against my chest. “They won’t help us because of me. I can’t go.”
“But you’re so amazing!” Petra said as cheerfully as she could. Shikun didn’t respond much to it. “You are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. If they don’t love you immediately, well, then I don’t want them to help.”
“By Jove, dear lady, you’re a monster hunter!” Reggie said to her. “We’ve got two Great Beasts and an army of anthophilan soldiers notched in our belts, for God’s sake. So what if you’ve got a missing wing or two? Can any of them say they’ve helped save the bloody world?”
Shikun continued to pour tears into my jacket, despite all the kind and loving words. She didn’t care about any of that. While she found an identity in our family, she was still a draconian.
I focused on the ethereal chains around her, and even between all of the silver and gold chains intertwining her to all of us, thicker than ever, she still had a few links of a rusty iron chain reaching up to the sky. The chain grew from her back, the loop connecting to her at the remnants of the scars left from the removed wings. Even though it wasn’t holding onto anything, it was obvious that it was the heaviest upon her soul.
And I was going to remove it.
“You’re coming with us,” I said to her, lifting her chin to meet my eyes. “Not because we need your strength and your skills, though we do. You’re going to go to those draconians and prove beyond a shadow of any doubt that you’re stronger than them.”
Though I knew she could turn away because she was more than strong enough, Shikun seemed transfixed by my words.
“You don’t need wings to show that you’re a draconian,” I pressed on. “You’ve already proved to this family, your family, and to me that you don’t need anyone else to tell you who you are. When we find them, you’re going to be the one who convinces them that they need to help us. If you just do what is natural to you, I know that they’ll listen.” I kissed her on the head. “You’re a goddamn dragon. Now own it.”
Shikun wiped away more tears from her face as she hid her smile from me. When she stopped rubbing her eyes, she put her lips to mine. As we separated, I saw the links in the iron chain on her back rust and decay before my eyes, almost shriveling like dried fruit. They wouldn’t break, however. That would only happen when she finally confronted the draconians.
“Well,” Shikun wiped a final tear from her eye, “What are we waiting for? Let’s go find us some flying…” She seemed to be reaching for a word.
“Assholes?” I fed her one I thought might fit.
“Assholes!” Shikun’s flaming wings spread high, then pushed down to fling her upwards, the wind from her takeoff blowing through the trees. She spun a few times in the air as she yelled a barbarian’s battle cry.
“We don’t even know what these draconians are like.” I heard Petra whisper to Amalthea. “What if they’re total pushovers?”
“Most draconian tribal culture is soaked in battle-worship, finding glory in most forms of war,” Amalthea said back to her. “Their gods are warriors, and their afterlife is only accessible through death in combat.”
“So they’re a whole race of flying, fire-breathing, invulnerable Shikun Vikings,” Reggie said, definitely not enthused by the situation. “Oh, joy.”
“If it were easy, they wouldn’t be worth the trouble,” I said, making my way south towards the mountains. “But we’ll be saving a lot of lives if we win.”
“It’s our lives that I’m worried about the most at the moment.” Reggie picked up Silver and placed him on Amalthea. He had a point. One Shikun was terrifying enough, even when she was on our side. An army of bloodthirsty Shikun’s might not be any safer than trying to fight the drones… but we weren’t left with many other options.
Besides, we weren’t pushovers, either.
23
With all of the drone’s attention focused on Hillrock, where the Baroness and Khaba would have assumed we were, the rest of the Marches weren’t much trouble to traverse. As long as we kept a safe distance between ourselves and the Solspire, we wouldn’t arouse any suspicion from them, and with the savage illness dying down amongst the land, the animals left us alone as well.
Thanks to Amalthea’s magic, we
didn’t have to travel the Marches long. As it turned out, wind resistance slows you down more than you’d think. Place a magic glyph in front of you that stops that wind resistance, and anything can move faster with the same amount of energy. A quick flight over, and we were at the base of the mountain range to the south.
Even looking upward towards it, I could see the snow at the top, and quickly realized it was an arctic environment that made the Himalayas look balmy. Thick puffs of snow and hail flurried throughout the peaks and sides of the mountain, clouding up the sky above us.
The wind constantly roared in what seemed like every conceivable direction. Amalthea even tried to make another set of her air shields to block the constant gusts, but they shattered in seconds.
“How is that even possible?” I shouted to her over the wind.
“I don’t know,” Amalthea shouted back. “It’s as if the air itself is enchanted, keeping anything from flying through it.”
Alright, there’s no fighting a magic windstorm. Flying was no longer an option, but we’d already spent half a day through the Marches. If we wasted any more time trying to make the proper climbing gear and cold-weather clothing in Hillrock, the drones might launch their assault while we were away.
Honestly, I was surprised the scaled draconians decided that this frigid place was great for a home. Maybe I assumed that dragons were like lizards and inherently cold-blooded. Even if that were the case, the internal fires also natural to the dragon probably kept the draconians warm enough to survive, and, like the Russians, they would use the cold to their advantage as a cheap protective wall from invaders.
But we were determined… and a little desperate. This cold wasn’t going to stop us. After a brief search, we found a path cutting up the mountain and headed out.
The one to feel the cold first was Petra. As a dryad, her floral body had no resistances for this winter weather. Even the hardiest of trees’ strategy for the changing seasons was essentially to die until it got warmer.
