by JManess
Sondra soon discovered the joy of the hunt. It wasn’t the cruel torment of those nobles who harried a tiny and helpless woodland beast to death. She hunted for survival and, though singly the equinos posed little threat to a dragon, as a herd, they could wound even one such as she had become. Each meal became a challenge, a hard chase over rolling grasslands. Still reluctantly learning to fly, Sondra hunted primarily on the ground and found the sport far more dangerous than Tolmac’s method of swooping out of the sky and snatching prey before the herd even sensed him. Sondra sparked off many stampedes before she learned the stealth and ambush methods Tolmac claimed most dragons learned shortly after hatching. Tolmac, though often sarcastic and impatient, proved very effective as a teacher.
By the third cycle, Sondra discovered that the normally serious and reticent dragon also possessed a sense of humor. Unfortunately, his humor came at her expense. He’d selected a training ground as far from any human settlement as he could find. Northeast of Ariva and Thunder Mountain, sheltered by the cluster of mountain ranges that spread almost all the way to the Frozen Sea, laid a secret valley, accessible only from the air or a very long hike. Tolmac assisted Sondra to the valley, and that first flight, only a few cycles after becoming a dragon, left Sondra with nightmares. The unicorn really did it though.
Sondra had just finished a hunt and allowed the sedative effect of a full belly to lull her into a state of intense relaxation. The next thing she knew, she sat snout to horn with a pure white unicorn. The beast appeared almost as surprised as she to find itself facing a dragon and it reared up. Sondra reacted in predictable fashion, shrieking and jumping backward. Unfortunately, she forgot the dimensions and additions of her new form and tripped over her own tail, rolling it under her foot and slamming head first into the only rock to be
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found for miles around. As she lay there dazed, the angry unicorn recovered from its fright. None too happy to find dragons invading its territory, it chose that moment to jump on her head and perform a painful and not very rhythmic dance on her skull in a fit of pique. It polished off its message with a very nasty plop of something foul before dismounting and prancing off, tail in the air and equine nose out of joint. Then Sondra heard the laughter. Do dragons cackle?
Oh no, they simply roll around in the grass roaring with laughter and clutching their sides, unconcerned by how foolish they look, snorting and snuffling and lighting portions of the meadow on fire.
Sondra picked herself up, shook off the dust and the other revolting thing she didn’t want to dwell on, and stalked past the idiot dragon even now crushing an entire field of flowers and grasses with his mirth. She debated mentioning just how silly he looked, burying his head beneath one wing to stifle his howls of laughter, but decided it didn’t pay to antagonize the only dragon capable of flying away from this valley. Instead, she huffed over to the mountain-fed stream that supplied the valley with bitterly cold water and dunked her head in to rinse it off. Then she sulked in grand royal fashion, pointedly ignoring the occasional snickers that drifted her way from the shadows beneath the mountain. She fell asleep irritated and not the least bit pleased at her first meeting with a unicorn. She always expected she would find them awe-inspiring and beautiful. She discovered that, like dragons, unicorns didn’t behave the way humans anticipated.
Sondra listened in fascination as in the next cycle Tolmac deigned to explain how the unicorn appeared out of thin air and wound up face to face with Sondra. Apparently, unicorns traveled by moving between two planes of existence. They used what Tolmac called a planar corridor to escape from threats, move past obstacles such as massive mountain ranges, and generally appear wherever it pleased them. Unfortunately for Sondra, the unicorn didn’t pay careful attention when exiting the corridor, certainly not expecting to find a dragon relaxing in its valley.
Tolmac explained that his territory encompassed the entire northern reach from the southern pass of Terroc’s Ring to the Frozen Sea, and other dragons didn’t trespass if they valued their continued existence. Since he rarely ever left his lair anymore, the unicorn didn’t expect him or any other large creature to seek rest and food in his territory.
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“But unicorns are supposed to be gentle, good, and kind!” Sondra claimed, still disenchanted by the unpleasant encounter.
Tolmac barely contained his laughter in his reply, but Sondra saw golden sparkles dancing through his aura anyway. “I don’t know where you heard that nonsense. In every world I’ve seen, the unicorns never change. They are nasty, mean-spirited, and ill-tempered beasts. Humans are the only creatures that seem to find those beasts fascinating. In one world the people worshipped them as harbingers of goodness and purity. Imagine that!”
“But—I don’t know—they just look like they should be nice.”
“Oh, yes, of course. The lethal, two-foot-long horn just shouts peace and love.”
“Stop it,” Sondra couldn’t help her own laughter now. “I’m serious,” she laughed. “They are pure white, they are related to horses, which are noble beasts, and they only suffer the touch of the purest maiden.”
“You spout asinine myths developed by the lesser races. Horses are simple herbivores, there is nothing truly noble about them, though they taste delicious, I might add. Only humans care about the state of their female’s virtue, I assure you. No animal, magic or mundane, cares in the least for human virgins. Where did you hear these tales? Were you raised by humans? Never mind, I think I understand; somewhere in your short and ill-informed life, you came across some human anthology of mythical beasts—am I close?”
“Um … yes! After I … hatched, I found a book in my … um … nest, and I read it from cover to cover. That’s how I learned about unicorns.”
“Yes, the human written word is a simple runic formula; even a hatchling would have no problem deciphering their language. I wonder what your brood mother wanted with a human bestiary.”
“I don’t know; I never met her, remember.”
“Yes, I remember. I just cannot fathom how you managed to survive to adulthood without any guidance at all. You are fortunate those withered old lizards in the Circle never found you. Nothing would please them more than the addition of a storm dragon to their number. Well, almost nothing would please them more.”
“You mentioned the Circle before. Who are they? Why are they so dangerous?”
“When I first arrived in this world after my last migration …”
“What’s a migration?”
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“One thing at a time, little one, I will explain migration later. I am not even certain if you can perform such a feat. Only dragons of certain heritage can migrate across worlds. But I digress.” He cast a wry look at Sondra, her boundless curiosity literally sparking off her scales and across her wings. “The native dragons of this world choose to live together in linked lairs, though I cannot imagine why. They occupy this cave city for the majority of their lives, and a circle of ancient, withered females controls all of their actions from the main caverns where they make their own lairs.”
“It isn’t normal for dragons to congregate?”
“Apparently on this world it is, but no, I have never seen the practice before and I have met many dragons on many worlds. They have all lived as I do; they claim a territory and choose a lair, fighting for the privilege if they must. They live alone unless they choose to seek a mate to spread their bloodline.”
“Then do they live together with their mate?”
“Of course not, why would they do that? Once they assure themselves that the female is heavy with eggs, they return to their lair and continue living out their days in peace and quiet.”
“It sounds lonely.”
“You think it is better to live under the thumb of the Circle, puppet to their never-ending machinations? Would you choose crowded living conditio
ns and over-hunted territories over a bountiful and spacious territory?”
“Well, not when you put it that way. But the humans live in cities and it doesn’t seem like such a bad life for them.”
“Dragons are not humans and should not seek to live like them. Humans cluster together the way the equinos do and for the same reasons. A dragon does not need the safety of numbers for survival. The Circle draws dragons to them for power; they demand tribute from the humans in their lands, and they indoctrinate or kill any dragon not of their kin. They play games with other dragons, humans, and beasts, bending them all to their perverted whims.
Do not mistake the way they live as a means of interacting with others and benefiting from company the way the humans seem to. The Circle sucks the life from their followers and gives nothing in return.”
“I never thought of it that way. Why don’t the other dragons rise up against the old females that control them? Surely they are strong enough?”
“The Circle raises most dragons into their kin from the moment they hatch; in fact, they are selectively bred. These chicks never have a chance to 60
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break away and live as natural dragons. Those that are born free, like you, are hunted down and forced to join the Circle kin or die.”
“So they would see me as a prize because I am a … what did you call me, a storm dragon?”
“Yes, little one, you are smaller than most dragons, but you possess the power of skyfire and no dragons’ scales can resist the heat of that flame.”
“I don’t think I want to put that to the test!”
“No, you are not a killer, anyone can see that. That is why the Circle must never gain control of you; they would destroy your spirit and force you to kill your own kind.”
“I would never let that happen. I would choose death first!”
“Very brave of you, but the ancient dragons of the Circle are very powerful telempaths and often use mind control on dragons untrained in mental battle.
I will teach you how to protect your mind and fight a telepathic battle just in case you ever encounter one of their enforcers, or a human wizard.”
“A human wizard?”
Tolmac sighed. “Yes; sadly, despite their relative weakness, the humans somehow manage to harness magic and use it, as well as direct it toward enslaving and controlling magical creatures. The majority of their spells use compulsory commands that untrained dragons find difficult to ignore. Even I have struggled against wizards who possess a powerful will. Obviously, I always win in the end, but every battle counts; one mistake during telepathic combat means enslavement. But you probably won’t encounter many wizards as long as you stay away from human settlements. Most wizards seek easier targets for their spells than full-grown dragons. The Circle is a different matter entirely.
I must see you trained to withstand them mentally as well as physically before you ever encounter one of them.”
“How have you remained free for so long?”
“Yes, let’s go back to that, shall we? When I migrated here so long ago, I sought a suitable territory and instead found the Kin enclave. They saw me coming and the old females practically drooled in anticipation. I am of Cindara’s bloodline and the Circle couldn’t wait to capture me and begin breeding enforcers that could spread their sickness to other worlds.”
“Cindara?”
Tolmac sighed heavily. “I will never finish this tale if you keep asking questions. Cindara is, well, if we worshipped gods the way humans do, you
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would call her our Goddess, but in actuality she is the second dragon the Creator ever made and she controls the passages between worlds. Those directly descended from her can form portals to other worlds and migrate.
There, two questions answered; now may I continue?”
“Do go on …”
“Thank you so much for your permission. Anyway, I fought off their enforcers, I shrugged off their mental compulsions, and I destroyed a good portion of their enclave before moving on to seek a suitable territory. They didn’t appreciate my answer to their invitation to join them and spent the next hundred or so rotas sending warriors to kill me. After they lost too many male dragons, they started sending females to tempt me, hoping I would impregnate one and send her back heavy with chicks of my bloodline.”
“I see, that explains a lot. What did you do to the females? Did you … kill them too?”
“No, but I wasn’t kind or gentle with them. You should know, little one, that I am still not entirely convinced that the Circle didn’t send you. After so many others failed they may have felt that an innocent and naïve young female could win past my guard.”
“Ah! How could you even think that? I would never participate in something so dishonest and evil!”
“Perhaps not knowingly. I do not think you are capable of such a thing, but there are many ways to create a situation to their advantage, and the Circle spends their entire life dreaming up new manipulations.”
“So you think they sent me here without me realizing it? That I am a puppet for them?”
“I told you they were strong empaths; they could just as easily implant orders for you to appear at my lair, with no memory of how you got there or why you’d come.”
Sondra felt rejection and sadness tighten her throat. She was starting to like Tolmac and enjoyed his company—and he still didn’t trust her. Worse, she knew he had good reason, as she wasn’t being completely honest with him.
“How do I prove that I am not a part of them?” She tried to keep the hurt from her thoughts, but Tolmac sensed it anyway.
“Do not fear, little one, I know you are not like them. If they sent you to me then they will find that not only will they never have me, but they have lost you as well. I will protect you from them.” Tolmac didn’t like the feeling of pain 62
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issuing from Sondra’s spirit, and he didn’t understand why it bothered him. The emotions of other dragons never affected him before. He realized that he just vowed to protect something other than himself or his territory. Taking on such a responsibility provided its own form of enslavement, but for some reason the thought didn’t alarm him. Instead he looked over at the smaller dragon beside him, her aura dark with hurt feelings, and felt a fierce desire to stand between her and any threat she faced. He struggled to find something else to say to soothe the wound he himself caused. An idea occurred to him. Knowing her endless curiosity, satisfying it should snap her out of her sadness.
“Would you like to see my hoard?” Did he just say that? It sounded so …
juvenile.
It did the trick, however. Sondra’s head snapped up and she responded with alacrity, her aura brightening with excitement. “You have a hoard! Really?
What’s in it? Gems, gold, magical weapons?” Tolmac sighed, secretly pleased at her enthusiasm and unnaturally nervous about showing her his life’s collection of things precious to him. “You shall have to wait and see. Let us hunt and then we will return to my lair.”
“All right, let’s go!” Sondra rushed out, anxious to view a real dragon’s hoard for herself.
They arrived back at the lair before sundeath, Tolmac determined to teach her to fly at the very next opportunity. His muscles ached from assisting her over the mountains. She was a small dragon, but even for him, practically carrying another adult dragon over mountains wasn’t a simple matter. They filed into his lair, wending through a maze of tunnels.
Sondra vaguely recognized the same tunnels she travelled previously and even spotted melted rock where Tolmac flamed her as she ran away. She glanced back at him as they passed one spot where black glass gleamed darkly in the rock face.
“I missed on purpose, you know.” He defended himself, feeling strangely ashamed of his behavior at their first meeting. She didn’t answer, just mentally smirked at him and turned away to continue through the tu
nnels. He struggled to keep his mind on the task at hand and his tongue between his teeth as she sashayed ahead of him, her sinuous tale gliding back and forth in the red glow cast by molten rock bubbling in the mountainous cauldron below.
They reached the main cavern. A huge pit opened to the lower levels of the volcano and Sondra saw the molten lava that boiled in the belly of the
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mountain beneath her, the heat and light of it chasing away the shadows and the chill of the mountainous air. She carefully skirted the pit, amazed that the heat didn’t bother her—it actually felt nice warming her scales.
Tolmac ignored the gaping hole in the center of the cavern and continued down a side tunnel. Sondra followed him to another rocky chamber and nearly bit her tongue in shock. Here, amidst steam vents clouding the air, the walls glittered with enough rough gems to purchase a hundred kingdoms. Lying beneath the vaulted ceiling, whose gem-encrusted surface glittered like a starry night, was a huge pile of gold coins spilled across the floor. Interspersed among the gilt bounty, cut gems glittered, and strands of pearls dangled from their golden grip. Lethal weapons wore sheaths of gold, and pieces of armor shared space with bolts of silken cloth that spilled from ironbound chests.
Sondra noted that many of the items didn’t look like anything she had ever seen in her entire life. Over in the corner lay a suit of armor made entirely of a luminous green stone, delicately and skillfully carved. Helms in a style unknown to the southern lands dotted the treasure trove, runes and decorative carving and gilding suggesting their purpose was solely ceremonial. An entire armory of weapons lined up against the far wall, many whose use and design were completely unknown to her.
Tolmac watched her as she surveyed his treasure. He noted the awe and wonder swirling through her aura. He hoped she saw the treasure as he did, rather than as an object of greed. He collected each piece of treasure and every coin from the many lands he traveled. He earned every priceless gem, magical or simply beautiful, from long journeys and deadly quests. Some he pried from the clutches of other dragons that he bested in combat or in riddles. Many of the weapons he took from the legendary warriors he defeated when they challenged him in hopes of further distinguishing themselves. A dying warrior, honored by his mere presence, gifted him the jade armor. Every gem, every sword, every shield or helm; they all held meaning and represented the life Tolmac led.
