Into the Light (Axe Druid Book 1)

by Christopher Johns

  “You’re much too old to call me that now, little one,” it rumbled to her. The voice was deep but somehow wizened, like an older man’s would be in his later years. “You know my name. I would appreciate you using it. Where is your mother?”

  “She hasn’t ruled for five centuries,” Maebe said.

  The Dragon nodded and smacked his lips again. “A five century nap? Well, it has been a while. What have I missed?”

  She began to fill him in on some events I didn’t understand, but he seemed to because he nodded along and asked a simple question here and there. After a while, she began to tell him of the latest situation to arise—my party’s arrival to their realm and the fight against War.

  “I see,” he grumbled with his eyes closed. “And you have summoned me for counsel?”

  “Yes and no.” Mae sighed. “They are to be my champions in the Prime realm, and I wished to aid them how I could. I have yet to impart what I can to them, but it cannot wait for some. Your presence is two-fold. You being awake shows that I am serious in what is to come, but I wanted to know if you would be willing to help outfit my new champions for the cause.”

  “Nothing is without a cost, child,” he rumbled; he seemed to be enjoying that she had come to him. “You know my price.”

  “I do,” Maebe said, looking slightly defeated.

  She stepped forward, so close to the maw of the Dragon that it dwarfed her. Was he larger than before? The tip of his nose was at least a good foot and a half taller than me, so it was huge to her. She walked around the side of the Dragon’s head to just behind the jaw line. She then began to scratch him roughly with both hands. A sigh of relief almost pushed me off my feet, and the shaking coming from his back leg thumping the ground didn’t help either.

  “Please, Uncle Winterheart, please help me with my champions?” she said it with so little enthusiasm, that this had to have been something that he asked for all the time when she was younger.

  How old was she?! Damn, man.

  “That wasn’t believable at all, but oh well. A daft old uncle like me has to take what he can get, right?” He chuckled and ice began to fall as his breath froze. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the air seemed to grow cold to the point where my breath began to show, and the sound of ice cracking resounded around us as he lifted his head from where it had frozen to the ground.

  “I remember when you were but a small, smiling creature but only a dozen centuries ago. You used to climb my scales and pester me about Ice Magics all day—begging me to teach you how to fly.” He sighed theatrically before muttering, “The good old days.”

  He looked at me then for the second time since his release. “I have been frozen a long time, but the time has yet to come where one would be so rude as to not introduce themselves to an ancient Dragon, such as myself.”

  “Forgive me, Great One,” I said as I attempted to bow as I had to Maebe. “I am Zekiel Erebos, come to help defend this land from War and his minions. While I did not choose to come here, I have found a great friend in Maebe.”

  “YOU WILL CALL HER QUEEN, MORTAL!” the ancient Dragon reared to his full height and bellowed at me. The wind whipped, and I felt the cold fury of his words slap against my skin. “BOW YOUR HEAD AND BEG FORGIVENESS AND I MAY ONLY EA–”

  “You will do no such thing!” Maebe’s voice carried over the roar of the great mister before me. She stood before me with her fists to her side, staring down the confused Dragon. Well, staring up the Dragon, anyway.

  “What?” he gasped. “He blatantly disrespected you! He thought himself better—calling you by name! Him! A subject!”

  “He isn’t a subject. He’s my friend,” she explained calmly. I was just trying to stop my teeth from chattering noisily.

  The temperature had dropped significantly, and I was cold and terrified. Thankfully, I didn’t have to go to the bathroom beforehand.

  “Friend?” He tilted his head to the side in a dog-like manner. “What use has a monarch for friends?”

  “Someone to talk to who won’t stab me in the back. Someone I know who will listen to me and treat me with respect because they want to, not because they have to. Zeke has treated me better in a day than any subject has in my entire life and at no cost. The gifts I give, I give freely because he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t demand. He simply wanted my friendship, and so he has it. He has given me new purpose, Winterheart! He has helped me find something to help wile away the years unlike before.”

  “If you needed a companion, why did you not come to me?” The great Dragon, this primal being of ice and death, suddenly reminded me of a jealous, sullen child.

  “Would you want someone who lectures you on etiquette all the time to talk to? Someone stuffy and crotchety?”

  “I most certainly am not crotchety!” he cried indignantly.

  “Who was it that froze a servant’s entire line because their meal wasn’t cooked the way they hadn’t remembered to request for it to be?” He looked at her in shock. “Yes, I knew all about that, Uncle Winterheart. At the time, it was slightly entertaining, but no more. I like to think I have matured past that.”

  Winterheart looked at her with his giant, orange eyes a moment longer, then sighed in defeat.

  “Okay, I can be crotchety at times, but do you know how hard it is to be frozen so long?” He stood on his back legs and stretched, his head bumping the ceiling. Something cracked, and he groaned in relief.

  “You can’t even tell how long you’ve been frozen!” Laughed the queen. It was a magical sound.

  “It’s so hard on my achy joints, child!” He feigned injury and lifted his offending leg.

  “How about a deal, then?” she asked, a smile on her face. He looked at her in careful interest, the ridges above his eyes raised slightly.

  “You give my friend and his friends who qualify for your aid what you can, and I will let you out more often.”

  “Done,” he blurted out before she could recant the deal. No bartering, nothing, Damn.

  “What can you offer them?” the queen asked sweetly.

  “I would have to see them first,” he explained. “Bring me the ones who have an affinity for the cold. Oh, and also, food, please. A lot of food.”

  Servants left, some coming back with freshly cooked haunches of meat, larger than even I thought was possible. The Dragon ate heartily while the other servants went to fetch Bokaj and James.

  While we waited for my friends, I watched Winterheart eat. It was amazing. I had fought a Bone Dragon, sure.

  That was cool as hell.

  I had even been turned into a werewolf.

  Again, cool as hell.

  But here, not forty feet from me, was a feasting Dragon. A living, breathing Dragon.

  “I knew her mother, you know,” he said after throwing a large side of ribs into his mouth whole and swallowing another seconds later. “She raised me. Thought me as a pet until my intelligence began to rival even her own. That’s when she taught me magic, and I took to it like, well, a Dragon to the air. Her magics focused primarily on the cold and darkness. My focus was always the cold. It changed me over time. Made me look like this. More powerful than my peers, though I was already that.”

  He chuckled and then picked up a table full of large meats and vegetables, tossing the whole thing into his gullet. “Oops. Sorry about the table, my dear.”

  “Of course you are, Uncle. I know how hungry you get. Remember, we hold court tonight.”

  “Yes, yes,” he muttered, sucking on a clawed digit. “Just a small snack to hold me over.”

  By my calculations, he had eaten a small farm. The shock must have shown because he chuckled again, and Maebe smiled at me.

  “He ate for three days once, stopping only to belch and berate a servant for tardiness. It was quite a show.”

  “Oh I remember one of the giant lambs you brought to me. Oh!” Drool dropped from his mouth and shattered on the floor. “How succulent it was! So tender, and the spice of it was divine
!”

  My friends came in moments later, while a debate on how a rack of lamb should be spiced raged, and they stood aghast at what they saw.

  “A Dragon! Holy shit!” James shouted.

  “It’s rude not to introduce yourselves,” I chided. Winterheart smiled at me.

  They introduced themselves, and then the ancient Dragon did the same. He looked to Bokaj first.

  “You are of the Ice, born of it. Changed by it. You, I can work with.” He laid down in front of my friend, then breathed onto him, a great gust of arctic air cut across the forty foot distance and lanced through him. The air circled once, twice, then engulfed him in a tornado of ice shards and cold.

  After a moment, the air current died down, and Bokaj fell to the floor, unconscious. I started to move forward, but the Dragon stopped me. “Let him lay. He has to cope with the blessing. Come, I turn now to you.”

  He reared back his head and roared loudly, almost deafening us all. Ice erupted from his body, then crashed into me, sinking into my skin. It hurt, at first, and my health dropped by almost three fourths, but I actually stayed conscious for this one. Then I went numb.

  WARNING!

  Your spell Frozen Dagger has been lost to the fury of the storm that is Winterheart, Ancient White Dragon.

  What the fuck?! He took the spell I had relied on so much? That spell had gotten me through tough times and had saved my ass more than once. Not to mention, it was one of the cheapest spells in my arsenal. That fucker had cheated me!

  CONGRATULATIONS!

  You have been blessed with more insight into what it truly means to use true cold to attack your foes. You have been granted the more powerful variant of the Frozen Dagger spell —Winter’s Blade. This spell has the same limitations of the original spell but does twice the damage for only 10 MP.

  Bow and scrape before the bender of the frosts to his will, the powerful and majestic Ancient White Dragon, Winterheart!

  I’ll never understand this world’s sense of humor, I thought to myself as I stood and cast Regrowth on myself.

  “Thank you, Winterheart,” I said, attempting to bow again.

  “Show me,” he said simply, curiosity in his eyes. “Hit me with it.”

  I smiled and complied willingly. He would pay for fucking with me. First, I started with the normal shot. I motioned like I was throwing a knife to cast the spell. Rather than a small blade of ice shooting forward, a large, three-foot-long sword of ice that radiated cold energy flew from my hand and crashed into the side of the Dragon where it exploded against his side. He smiled at me.

  “That all?”

  Oh hell no. I decided to charge the spell this time. I activated my ability, then waited for the spell to charge the full amount and thrust my hands forward. The sword that appeared this time was a great sword, roughly the same size as a certain buster sword from a favorite game of mine. I sent it speeding at the scales I’d hit a moment before. It thunked into his hide and exploded with a small concussive whomping sound before he laughed, again unfazed.

  “That was very nice!” He grinned at me and looked over to James who was just standing there kind of lamely.

  “Come touch my scales, little Dragon Elf.” He spoke like he was trying to call a dog. James walked right up to him and touched his chest with his hand already encased in ice. The fist glowed white for a moment, then dulled and flared once more.

  “Awesome,” James whispered while looking at his fist. “It explodes now, and I can freeze my opponents. Well, there’s a chance to anyway.”

  “Good. That is all I can provide for you.”

  “Excellent, thank you, Uncle Winterheart.” This time, when Maebe scratched his scales, it was genuine.

  Chapter Thirty

  We were all excused to meet and prepare for what was to come. Maebe said she would be along after a while, giving me time to talk to everyone. A servant walked us to a larger room with chairs and a table with food on it. Yohsuke and Jaken were there already. We all sat down and waited for Balmur. He showed up a few minutes later with Thogan to guide him. He nodded to me and paused to look at our Fae-Orc as if he wanted to speak to him but left us after a second.

  “Everybody alright?” I asked. They all looked okay, but you could never truly know.

  “Everyone seems to be going out of their way to be sure that we’re comfortable, but no one will speak to us unless it involves having to go somewhere,” Yohsuke informed me.

  “It’s been a smooth day, man. What have you guys been up to?” asked Jaken. “And what was the deal with the queen?”

  I told them everything that happened, careful not to say anything about half truths and anything I omitted. I held up a hand when someone would try to correct me on something and simply pointed to the walls, then my ear. We were probably being listened to, so best just to let me speak and catch them up as best I could.

  “Then we saw the Dragon, received his blessings, and here we are.”

  “Woah, a real Dragon?” Jaken whispered in awe.

  “Yeah,” I couldn’t help grinning at his expression. “She mentioned having something for you too, Yoh, but she didn’t say what it was.”

  “Cool, man,” he said. “She pissed me off when she interrupted me, but I’m glad she’s cool with us for now. I wonder what our gear is gonna be. I know we gave him some instructions, but there’s a vast difference between taking an order and trying to fill it, you know?”

  “I hear you, man. Svartlan will do what he can. He reminds me of the guy at boot camp who would just sit in that chair and tell you your sizes for everything. Dude was crazy good at his job.” I nodded at the door. “Shouldn’t be too long now. The court will be gathering soon, and she will want us to be presentable. There will be food and whatnot, but you can be sure that whoever is there will be trying to pull some power-game shit and you will likely be a pawn somehow. Be on your toes.”

  Ten minutes later, someone was knocking at the door. I opened it, and Svartlan rushed in with servants in tow. He presented each of us with something to wear; he even gave Jaken new clothes to wear under his plate-mail—a striking, black material shirt that looked pretty damn good with metallic blue of his mithral armor.

  To Yohsuke, he gave a pair of black breeches and a matching, long sleeved, black shirt with red trim along the seams. Then he handed him a cloak of the same material and color with Ursolon boots dyed black and red.

  “Thanks, man.” Yoh smiled at him as he looked them over.

  “The material is Black Dread Silk,” Svartlan explained before presenting Balmur with his little parcel. “The Lady Darkest demanded you have the use of it. This is to be your battle attire. You will find the defense a marked improvement. Not to mention, stylish.”

  True to form, the armor that Balmur pulled out had the Dread Silk shirt and a leather vest that looked both simple and stylish to wear. The leather was almost as dark as the silk but dyed to the same black and purple color of the Azer Dwarf’s beard and hair.

  “The leather is also from her personal supply. The animal that hide belonged to, the Belgar—a large, horned creature—has a hide that is nigh impenetrable to most weapons and highly resistant to magic. It’s also in your breeches as the pads, young Dwarf. You’re welcome! Moving on!”

  He stepped in front of Bokaj, who took his gift with a grin and a thank you. Bokaj pulled out a white, thin material that looked like a hoodie from our world, put it on, then pulled out a matching pair of breeches. Last was a pair of boots made from the same material.

  “These were a good deal of fun to make, though why you wanted your cloak like that, I don’t know.” He sniffed as if insulted. “Anyway, Shadow Lizard membranes. These creatures are called that for their stealth capabilities, obviously not for their skin tone. If you pull the hood up, you will find that you blend into most environments and are harder to see. Dear Balmur, don’t look so disappointed. I have the utmost faith in your abilities as a sneak. Plus that armor will look dashing on you. That color,
Oh! Brilliant.”

  He turned to me, and an almost sinister grin split his face. He pulled the next parcel from the servant behind him, who quickly scurried away.

  “A vision came to me while I labored over this, a dark and terrifying vision. Her name shall not be uttered, for you can probably guess whom it was, but she bid me make this—special.”

  I took the package and opened it. It was the same dark material my friends had but thicker.

  “She decided to gift you with her own personal touch. The material inside that is the hoarfrost—ice of her making infused with dark magic so as to never melt or soften. It will lend you extra protection. The breeches are the same. Ursolon boots, dyed black to match, with a slight personal touch and the same with the shirt. I took some liberties to make it more attractive. I think you will like it.”

  I held the shirt up in front of me and saw what he meant. Emblazoned on the front of it was a blue hued Lightning Roc, like it was my symbol. My crest.

  “It’s beautiful, Svartlan. Thank you.” I shook his hand. “I will thank this mysterious benefactor myself.”

  He shook his head in amusement before finally turning to James.

  “Ah, the savage.” He frowned slightly. “Simple, inelegant, and quite uncouth. You were my favorite to work for. I made yours specifically to spite you. Just breeches. HA! Svartlan will make style come to you, and you will like it!”

  That last bit was shouted in a bellow of challenge. He huffed for a second, obviously enraged at the very idea of it all, but he ran his hands over his head and breathed, visibly regaining control. He flicked his wrist at the Monk, and the last servant dart forward, her parcel held out.