by Virlyce
“…Mary Junior?”
Mary pointed at the turtle that was struggling to climb back onto its feet. “Mary Junior.”
“No.” Tafel shook her head. “Just no. Change its name.”
Mary bit her lower lip. “Why? Is it bad?”
Tafel nodded.
A sigh escaped from Mary’s lips. “Then … Little Mary?”
“Something without Mary in it.”
Mary’s brow wrinkled. “Why? Mary’s a good name. Are you saying it’s not?”
“No, no,” Tafel said. “That’s not it. It’s just that … for a turtle, maybe it isn’t that great of a name?”
Mary pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why don’t you come up with one?”
“How about … Turtley? Or Snakey?” Tafel’s eyes lit up. “Oh! How about Shelly? I think Shelly is a great name for a turtle.”
“There’s already too many people around Vur that have their names start with an S,” Mary said and shook her head. “What if people get confused?”
“But turtles have shells?” Tafel asked. “Shelly is obviously the turtle. No one will get confused by that.”
Mary shook her head. “It sounds too close to Sheryl.”
Tafel rolled her eyes. “And Mary Junior doesn’t sound too close to Mary?”
“There’s a whole two-syllable difference! It’s not the same at all.” Mary reached down and picked up the crying turtlesnake. It tried to bite her, but its fangs and beak couldn’t break past the leather covering her hands. “I’m going to raise Mary Junior to be stronger than me. That way, she won’t have her soul harvested by that evil dragon.” She glared at Grimmy who was sleeping in a patch of sunlight. After staring at Grimmy for a bit longer, she bit down on her lower lip. “He’s not really going to harvest Mary Junior’s soul, right?”
“You shouldn’t have named it,” Mr. Skelly said, appearing by Tafel’s side. He sighed. “You’ll get attached, and it’ll be such a tragedy when she’s taken away from you.”
“Don’t torment the poor girl who’s going to eventually have her pet ripped away,” Alice said, pulling on Mr. Skelly’s arm.
Mary shot to her feet, still carrying the turtle in her hands. “I’m going to run away. I’m going to run so far away that that evil dragon won’t be able to take Mary Junior from me.”
“You’re crushing her,” Tafel said and pointed at the struggling turtle. “I think she might prefer being taken away by Grimmy.” She shrugged when Mary glared at her. “It’s just a feeling.”
***
Alora hovered above a circular pit in the ground. The surroundings were brown and empty, cleaned of all vegetation, buildings, and any semblance of civilization. “Okay,” Alora said and nodded, taking in the view. “This was the place, right?”
“It was supposed to be…,” Zyocuh’s voice said from her claw. “What happened here? The giants are supposed to lie dormant until I give them a command.”
“Do you think it has anything to do with that giant red mass of wriggling thingies down there?” Alora asked and pointed her glowing claw towards the horizon. “It looks like there’s more than enough of them to make up a giant.”
“I suppose there’s no other explanation…,” Zyocuh said. “Head closer.”
A few moments later, Alora arrived over a throng of red sheepmen. They were destroying everything in their path, removing trees, grass, weeds, stones. Nothing was left untouched except for the dirt. A few sheepmen raised their heads and met Alora’s gaze. They bleated and pointed at the sky. Then, like a colony of ants, they swarmed on top of each other, creating a massive pillar that stretched towards Alora like a slow-moving, wriggling spear.
“Oh, that is so gross,” Alora said, her snout wrinkling. “What the heck are they?”
“It seems like a part of the ritual went wrong,” Zyocuh said. “They’re what the giant was supposed to be made of, but instead of having one core, they have thousands that are linked together like a hivemind. You’ll have to absorb them all.”
Alora made a face as she flew higher up into the air. “You want me to absorb these things? I don’t want these things inside of me! That’d be so gross. Look at how they wriggle. Ugh.”
***
Nova whistled as he painted on a cliffside, using his tail as a brush. Wide swaths of green covered the cliff, painting a scene of flowing hills. He dipped his claws into a red paste inside of a bowl made of a tree trunk. After thoroughly coating the tips, he drummed his claws against the wall, red flowers blossoming to life on the hills. A few seconds later, he leaned back and tilted his head before nodding. Then he dipped his claws into a bucket of blue paste, just enough for the red paint to mix, turning the end product purple. He drummed his claws against the cliff while humming. As he was about to dip his claws into a third bucket of colorful paste, his body stiffened, his tail standing erect.
Nova’s neck creaked as he turned his head to face behind himself. A dot on the horizon was growing larger and larger, and the clouds were dispersing behind it, leaving a wake of white waves in the blue sky. Nova’s throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed, and cold sweat ran down his back. “Is that…? No…. It can’t be. Why would she…?”
A thunderous roar echoed over the valley, “Nova!”
“Oh.” Nova swallowed again. “I guess it is.”
Prika popped her head out of her cave and looked around. In her paw, there was a person-sized book, one of her claws keeping her page. “Hey-o, patriarch. What’s going on? Who’s shouting?”
“My mate,” Nova said and sighed, wiping his tail on the grass. He scratched his head, leaving purple paint stains behind. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. Maybe a thousand years or so.”
Prika tilted her head. “What? Didn’t you see Kondra like less than a year ago? How long has Vur and them been gone anyway?”
Nova’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, and he turned around to make sure the dot in the sky was still far enough away to not hear anything. He grabbed Prika’s face, holding her snout shut before she could say anything else. A low growl rumbled out of Nova’s throat. “Kondra is not my mate. Don’t even mention her name in front of Sharda, got it?”
Prika blinked and raised her free front paw, giving Nova a thumbs-up. She let out a few muffled grunts and nodded before Nova finally let go. “So…,” she said, but her voice died down when Nova glared at her. “I think”—she gestured towards her cave with her claw—“I’ll just go back in there, yeah? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
Nova frowned. “Didn’t you seal yourself in for a hundred years?”
“Hey, hey,” Prika said. “Haven’t you heard of an exaggeration? Jeez. Well, actually, that was the plan, but I woke up from my nap because it was too hot. I should’ve left some way for the hot air to exit.” She nodded. “Anyways, it looks like your mate that totally isn’t Kondra”—Prika darted away into her cave—"is here!”
Nova blinked as Prika rolled a boulder in front of her cave and jammed it into place behind herself as she went in. He turned around and came face to face with a pair of golden slit eyes belonging to a sky-blue dragon’s face. A small smile appeared on both their faces, and the sky-blue dragon placed a claw on Nova’s cheek. She asked in a soft voice, “What was that bit about Kondra I heard just now?”
Nova cleared his throat. “Well, you see,” he said. “Ahem. Anyways, it’s been a long time since we’ve last met, hasn’t it, Sharda?”
Sharda blinked before widening her smile. “You haven’t changed,” she said. “I bet even if Kondra showed up while I was gone, you chased her away.”
“That’s—”
An excited but muffled voice came out of Prika’s cave, “They rested next to each other and talked while resting their heads on pillows!”
Sharda blinked and drew her head back, her claw sliding away from Nova’s face. “Excuse me? Who’s that?”
Nova sighed. “That’s—”
“I’m Nova’s mistres
s! But you can call me Prika.”
Sharda’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? Someone’s trying to steal my mate? Why don’t you come out here? We’ll have a friendly chat with our claws.”
“Uh…, wait a minute,” Prika said, her voice softening. “You’re supposed to get angry at Nova, not at me. What the heck?”
“Stealing my mate is challenging my authority,” Sharda said, lumbering over to the sealed off cave while Nova slinked back. “Why would I be angry at my possession for being stolen? Shouldn’t I blame the thief?”
“Um. Oh. You raise a very good point,” Prika said. “You see, Sera would get mad at Vernon if something like that happened. She wouldn’t get mad at the—other person! Gah!”
Sharda ripped the boulder out of the wall and tossed it to the side, revealing a cowering red dragon. “Shall we chat?”
Prika swallowed and inched backwards. “Aren’t grandmas supposed to be nice? You’re a grandma, you know? You have a grandson named Vur, and he loves me very, very much. If something happens to me, he’ll—ah! Nova! Help! Nova!”
Sharda grabbed Prika’s tail as the red dragon turned to run. Her claws sank deep into Prika’s scales, and she dragged the struggling dragon outside of the cave, leaving fissures in the cave walls and ground. Prika whirled around onto her back and curled her limbs over her belly. “W-wait! It’s Nova’s fault! Nova was the one who pursued me! I didn’t steal him from you, your property just can’t control himself!”
Sharda blinked and turned to look at Nova. Prika turned her head as well, her tail still in Sharda’s grasp. Nova rubbed his snout. “She’s not my mistress. She was just trying to rile you up because she gets enjoyment out of other’s suffering. You can ignore about eighty percent of the words that come out of her lying mouth.”
Prika bobbed her head up and down. “I might be a liar, but Vur really does love me. So, um, yeah, let go? Please? There’s no way I’d ever consider Nova as a mate because he’s, like, super old and boring and stuff. Promise.”
“Hmm.” Sharda grunted and released Prika’s tail. The sky-blue dragon brought her face forward until her snout nearly touched Prika’s. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”
“Got it,” Prika said and nodded. “I won’t do any funny stuff while you’re looking, Ms. Matriarch ma’am.”
***
“You really can’t do anything about these sheep?” Alora asked, looking down at her claw that was covered in blood. Dozens of reddish pools lay scattered around, and thousands of sheepmen surrounded her, pointing crude weapons made of wood at her feet. There were a few scratches on Alora’s legs, but other than that, she was relatively unhurt.
“Unlike the giant from earlier, these sheep’s minds have already been developed,” Zyocuh said. “There’s no way to give them a command that’ll let you absorb them. As living creatures, they have their own will to live, and they won’t surrender.”
Alora looked around, and the sheepmen took steps back when her gaze landed on them, widening the encirclement. She took a step forward, and the sheepmen ahead of her moved back while the sheepmen behind her advanced. “This is uncomfortable,” Alora mumbled. “They don’t even scream when they die.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” Zyocuh asked.
“No,” Alora said. “I like screams.” She lunged forwards, but the sheepmen retreated at an equal pace. A few of the sheepmen behind her threw spears and rocks, hitting her tail. Most of them bounced off, but one or two happened to hit in just the right manner to pierce her hide. “Ow!” Alora whirled around and glared at the offenders. She took in a deep breath, her chest expanding, and released a mouthful of icy mist.
The sheepmen bleated and scattered, but dozens of unlucky ones froze into red statues, their eyes still rolling underneath a layer of ice. Alora stomped forward and swung her paw, shattering the statues like glass. She placed her paw on top of the puddles they left behind, and her scales took on an even darker purple color, the hue traveling up her leg as something was absorbed. She ignored the bleating that filled the air and sighed.
“What’s wrong? Isn’t frantic bleating the same thing as screaming?”
“No,” Alora said. “It’s not. You’re not the one doing this boring task, alright? You don’t get to comment.”
“If it’s so boring, why don’t you just freeze them all with your ice breath? It doesn’t seem like they have a good counter to that.” The light on Alora’s claw flashed twice. “They may have anti-magic, but there’s nothing magical about your breath.”
Alora sighed again. “I guess I’ll do that.” She raised her head and swatted down a few spears flying towards her face. She rose up on her hind legs, and the sheepmen bleated while turning around, their backs facing her. Alora chuckled. “Trying to run?” Her chest expanded as wind rushed in through her nostrils, and in unison, the sheepmen farted. Alora’s eyes widened as the pure air she was inhaling a moment ago turned rancid, and she gagged, her ice breath caught in her throat. She coughed and sneezed, shaking her head back and forth, trying to get the smell out of her nostrils. Why did she have to inhale so deeply!?
“Baattack!” the sheepmen shouted out a battle cry and rushed Alora, jabbing at her with their spears while she was disoriented. She thrashed and wiggled, crushing them with her mass, but that didn’t stop them from swarming her like ants. They poked and prodded, biting and scratching when their wooden weapons broke.
“Roll!” Zyocuh shouted.
“What?” Alora pawed at her face, keeping the sheepmen away from her eyes and mouth. She wriggled and slapped herself with her paws, crushing the clumsier sheepmen.
“Stop, drop, and roll!”
Alora furrowed her brow, but she stopped moving, dropped to her belly, and rolled over. The sheepmen bleated as they were thrown into the air, the unlucky ones crushed underneath her weight. Laughter boomed out of Alora’s claw, and Zyocuh’s voice rang through the air, “Fear the might of a rolling, fat dragon!”
Alora froze midroll, her belly exposed to the sun. “Hold up! Who’d you call fat just now!?”
“…You’re the only dragon here, who else?” Zyocuh asked. “It was an effective tactic, wasn’t it? Isn’t this why you put on so much mass? Look at how afraid they are of climbing on top of you now.”
Alora snarled and bit down on her claw, causing Zyocuh to let out a shriek. “I’m at the appropriate weight for a growing dragon, got it? I’ll grow into it!”
“O mighty, baaa, dragon,” a sheepman with horns like a ram’s shouted. “We recognize, baaaa, your strength! Let us talk this through, baaa, like civilized, baa, creatures.”
“What?” Alora blinked. “You can speak?”
“Yes, baa.”
Alora blinked again. “Okay,” she said and sat on her haunches. Dozens of little nicks and scratches decorated her body. “Let’s talk. All of you should gather up and let me eat you, alright?”
“You are, baa, almost as unreasonable as the last, baaa, dragon we made a deal with,” the sheepman said. “Is eating us, baa, the only thing you wish, baaaaaa, for?”
“Pretty much.” Alora nodded.
“Can we, baa, offer you anything else, baaa, to eat instead?”
Alora lifted her front claw to her face. “Is there?”
“No,” Zyocuh said. “Only by using their cores can I improve your strength enough to deal with that evil dragon. It’s a shame that we have to eliminate a new culture before it had a chance to thrive.”
Alora nodded, lowering her paw. “You heard the man in the claw. There’s nothing else for you to offer me.”
The sheepman with the horns like a ram’s tilted his head. “Heard the, baa, what?”
Alora tilted her head in return. “You can’t hear him?” She pointed her claw at the sheepman. “Say something, Zyocuh.”
“I’m not a cheap gimmick like a talking frog,” Zyocuh said.
Alora nodded. “Did you hear that?”
The sheepman blinked at Alora in response. “I heard you sa
y, baa, ‘Say something, baaa, Zyocuh.’”
“Huh,” Alora muttered. “That’s weird. Can other people not hear you?”
“I don’t see why that should be the case,” Zyocuh said. “But it seems like it is.”
“What about the lighting up part?” Alora asked the sheepman. “Can you see my claw light up?”
The sheepman shook his head.
Alora scratched her cheek. “Hmm. That’s weird. Alright, so how were we going to compromise? You were going to let me eat you all….” She stood on her hind legs and looked around, but her surroundings were empty save for the lone sheepman. “Where did they all go?”
“This is our, baa, compromise,” the sheepman with the horns said. “You can eat me, baa, but all my brethren, baa, shall be free.”
“You were tricked,” Zyocuh said. “You were tricked by sheep. How did I lose to you?”
“Hey. They’re some very sneaky sheep, alright?”
32
Vur sat with his legs crossed, holding each of his elementals with one arm. Sheryl and Diamant were in his right hands, and Zilphy and Mistle were in his left hands. Zilphy and Mistle had their skinny arms crossed against their rocky bodies, facing away from each other with their eyes closed. Sheryl was twiddling her thumbs, her lips pursed as if she were whistling, but no sound came out. Diamant just looked like a rock, neither his arms nor eyes showing. In between the gap in Vur’s legs, there was a turtle shell with four shiny eyes peeking out of both ends. On top of Vur’s head, Stella was lying on her stomach, her chin propped up with her palms. She chewed on a piece of grass, her legs bent at her knees and fluttering in the air.
“Okay, you four,” Vur said and nodded. “You have to get along with each other. None of us are going anywhere until the problem between the four of you is fixed.”
Sheryl raised her hand. “I actually have no problems with anyone. Can I go back inside of you?”
