Stone Dragon (The First Realm)

by Testamark, Klay

  While the glass still rained down, the first magician started with the classic fireball—hits like a rock, explodes like a bomb, and burns like napalm. But I twisted my head and it flew past.

  BOOM. The magician on the other side hit me with another fireball, rocking me sideways. My scales weren’t even singed.

  “Did you just attack a fire-breathing dragon with fire?” I said. “That’s like attacking a polar bear with snowballs, isn’t it?”

  I lashed out with my claws, caught the first black mage, and bit his head off. The third mage hit me with a blast of cold and the fourth turned the floor to quicksand.

  “Hey, not fair!” I said. My paws scrabbled for purchase and my wings flapped for lift but the cold had sapped my strength and I sank under the surface. The marble closed over me and became solid again.

  “Did we get him?” said one of the mages.

  —I burst out of the ground, flapped my wings, and leaped straight up, crashing through the dome and trailing chandeliers on my wings.

  * * *

  Dragons used to be such a mystery.

  For one thing, how could they have six limbs? There’s no precedent. No reptile in the fossil record has so many legs. And how could they fly? They were too big, too heavy, and they certainly didn’t have the breastbones for it.

  Yet here I was, a dragon, and I wasn’t just flying—I was flying fast.

  Turns out dragons are thaumavores, or magic-eaters. They feed like other animals but also derive sustenance from the ambient energy. Flying, for instance, was possible through air magic. I wasn’t even flapping my wings. My body was taking in magic as it came to me, then blasting it behind me for propulsion, like some kind of air-breathing rocket. Wings swept back, I made good time.

  Holy balls, what did I just do?

  We finally got rid of that meddlesome old man.

  Who ARE you?

  The dragon Cruix, at your service. Rather, in my own service, as no elf is my master. The mental voice seemed to mutter. Disgusting ephemera, cluttering the world with your towns and your cities… We should have wiped you out the minute you arrived…

  Who’s WE?

  Why, we dragons! The rulers of this world! Where have you been, that you have not heard of us?

  Those were your thoughts I was thinking, wasn’t it?

  There was a pause as I allowed him to go through my memories. Now that we knew about each other, our minds had formed divisions. So far the barricades were holding.

  Am I the only one? he said, after what seemed like hours. Am I the only dragon in the world? Am I the last of a proud race, greatest in wisdom and in majesty? Is there no one else?

  Tough luck, buddy.

  Things were looking up. Cases of possession weren’t unheard of and there were doctors who specialized them. It would be simple enough to turn around, turn myself in, and turn back to normal. I adjusted my wings, determined to do just that—and continued on a straight path. What the fuck?

  I know what you’re thinking, little elf, and I will not allow it. I am no mere demon or thoughtform to be banished so easily. I AM A LIVING MIND and I remember the magics of my people. If you try to seek medical care, I will stop you.

  This is terrible!

  Ah, but it gets worse, at least for you. You see, this situation cannot hold. Two minds cannot share the same head for long. There can only be one outcome, and I tell you this because you have no hope of stopping it.

  What happens? TELL ME.

  In less than forty days I, Cruix, shall take over this body and extinguish its original personality. You, Angrod, shall cease even to be a memory.

  * * *

  I was still reeling from that when the hair on my neck stood up. Turns out I still had hair. It was silky and white and went all the way to my tail. I had a mane and trailing mustachios.

  I never thought I’d have to become another species before I could grow a beard.

  Now that hair was standing on end. The air smelled weird. I wondered what it was—I jinked right.

  BOOM. Lighting split the air.

  They’d lain in wait, the combat mages. They’d teleported ahead and hovered along my flight path. Cloaked, I couldn’t spot them until they split the night with thunder. They flew alongside now, passing lightning back and forth and missing by inches. They were trying hard to hit me, but I was trying even harder to evade them.

  Fire mages dove in, covered in flames and screaming for my death. I dodged the living missiles. As a dragon I was agile in the air. I was halfway built for it, unlike the elven mages. Still they dive-bombed me, harried me with lightning and sleet. The ice crystals were sharp and blinding.

  Persistent little monkeys, aren’t they? Why don’t we show them who REALLY rules the skies?

  I was about to say no, but then a fire mage singed my moustache. “Okay, that is it!”

  I was among them like a hound among rats. I tore them from the sky, bit them in mid-air, and crushed them in my talons. I was bigger, faster, more heavily armed. Those caught in my wake lost power and tumbled from the sky. I almost pitied them.

  Stop! Stop! You’re killing them!

  Isn’t this what we want? Finally, power enough to shake the world!

  Staaahp!

  You’re no fun.

  * * *

  Meerwen soared. Her enhanced eyesight gave her a complete view of the battlespace. She grimaced at each casualty. Many of them she knew by name, and it hurt to see them fall. It was clear that Angrod had become a monster. She watched as he tore through the last of the mages. She had to increase speed to keep up.

  Part of her wept at the turn of events. Things had been so promising. She couldn’t understand how he could be a prince, let alone a dragon. Both princes and dragons had passed from the world before she was born. To hear her father tell it, the world was better for it.

  Thinking of the death toll that had begun at the royal palace, she had to agree. Prince or not, Angrod had to die.

  The mages were far behind. The dragon was keeping a straight course. She couldn’t keep flying much longer—the spell was extremely taxing. It was time.

  She canceled her forward thrust and began to stoop. She held her fists out in front of her and called upon the power of the earth. She was high in the sky, but she’d always had an affinity for the earth and the wind resistance ceased to be a problem as her weight multiplied. She became denser, much denser, and soon was as rigid as a statue.

  Down she dived, down and down, gaining speed and power. She poured energy into her earth discipline, and apart from a few course corrections dropped like a rock. An extremely dense rock, plummeting so fast her skin grew hot. She held her fists in front of her and aimed for Angrod.

  * * *

  I was congratulating myself for the skirmish when something hit me in the back. I stopped feeling my legs. Something wet slithered across my belly.

  What was that?

  I chanced a look. Oh, shit.

  There was a hole in my back, and a bigger one in my abdomen. Whatever had hit me, it had punched all the way through. I was trailing my own guts.

  I noticed we were losing altitude.

  What do I do?

  Do? There is no “do.” Only DIE.

  Chapter 10

  Findecano directed the guards as they picked through the wreckage. Overall, it could have been worse. There were plenty of bruises and scrapes among his guests (the dwarven ambassador sprained his ankle jumping onto the garden, the clumsy lump) but there was just one civilian fatality.

  Too bad about Valandil. The old fool had been a hero at the end, but it was probably for the best. If his apprentice hadn’t killed him, Findecano’s man would have. The Lord Governor reflected on the turn of events, trusting on instinct to show him the way.

  A healer approached. “Help you with that burn, milord? You shouldn’t even be on your feet.”

  He waved her away. “I’ll be fine. Take care of the others. Is my wife going to be all right?”

&nbs
p; “They’ve finished setting her arm. I think that’s her walking toward us.”

  Tari had her arm in a sling. Findecano embraced her, gently. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “A clean break and the healer didn’t see any other problems. It’s a good thing you were on top of me.”

  He grinned. “I’ve heard that before.”

  She punched him with her other arm. “And what about your burn, my husband? That looks bad.”

  Findecano’s right leg was a big mottled burn. It was red, black, and thoroughly seared. The woolen hose was completely gone.

  He gritted his teeth. “I’m warding off the pain with air magic. It’s not helping it heal, but it’ll do until the emergency passes.”

  The healer had gone. Tari waved her hand and enveloped them in a bubble of quiet. “And how does this affect us?” she said, moving her lips as little as possible.

  “It seems I’ll have to kill Angrod after all. I was going to have his claim thrown out of court—it was a joke after all—but this has forced my hand.”

  “I’ll wager your agent is pleased with this development.”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Aren’t you, my dear agent?”

  “Son of a bitch,” said a disembodied voice.

  “May I assume that was a general and rhetorical son of a bitch? Or were you referring to me?”

  The spy fidgeted. “Uh, of course it wasn’t you, milord. It’s just that I was trying so hard.”

  Findecano nodded. “Reinforcing the floor under you was a step in the right direction, but you were still a drain on the local magic field. Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

  “Just got a message from the Grand Master. He says reports of the dragons’ extinction were exaggerated and wishes to tell you he’s sending a team to deal with this last one.”

  “Who told him about it?”

  “Uh, I did, milord. But you didn’t order me not to.”

  Findecano frowned. “We’re going to talk about your loyalties. In the meantime, tell the head of your order that he may hunt this dragon so long as he doesn’t hamper my own efforts. No doubt the public will want the dragon’s head.”

  “He seemed to know all this already. He probably has other assets in the city.”

  “We’ll talk about this later. My dear? Please drop the screen. I must coordinate the cleanup.”

  Tari dispelled the working and the sounds of the hall rushed in. To Findecano, the many subdued conversations sounded like a military camp after a battle. The spy bowed, invisible to everyone else, and left.

  “That man concerns me,” Tari said.

  “A nice enough boy, for an assassin.”

  Her eyes widened. “Surely you’re not going to introduce her to Meerwen?”

  He scratched his chin. “There’s an idea. At least he won’t transform into a dragon.”

  They walked over to the mage who’d lost his head. He lay in a body bag. The plastic was too flat above the shoulders.

  “Did you know him?” Tari asked.

  “Feniel Tarhassdorien. I handled his exit interview. I’m going to have to call his mother.”

  She reached over and squeezed his arm. “These things happen.”

  He shook his head. “I thought our generation was the last to deal with dragons. They’re damn hard to kill. I would’ve stopped Meerwen, but she ran out so quickly. Now she’s—”

  “Mother! Father!”

  Meerwen hobbled in, supported by a pair of royal guardsmen. She shook free and moved to hug her parents. “I’m so glad to see you both!”

  “Why are you all muddy?” her mother asked. “You’ve ruined that dress!”

  Meerwen grinned. “I did the old bullet drop, punched a hole in the dragon. Splashed into a lake, had to pull myself out of the lake bottom.”

  “Did you kill it?” her father asked.

  She shook her head. “It flew on. We haven’t found its body.”

  “Milord,” said Findecano’s secretary. “I’m swamped with messages from the city council. They demand action against this rogue wizard or dragon, whatever Angrod Veneanar has become.”

  “I’m already making a list of the mages and knights that will be on the task force.”

  Meerwen saluted, thumping her chest with her fist. “My Lord Governor, I formally request to lead that force.”

  “You, my daughter?”

  “I am an officer of the royal guard, and as a mage and knight I’m qualified to lead both warriors and wizards.”

  Findecano scratched his chin. On one hand, this was a chance to gain more glory for House Elanesse. On the other hand, this was his baby girl.

  “Sire, this dragon must be hunted down,” she said.

  “The dragon has a name, remember?” Tari said. “Have you forgotten that he’s the reason you’re wearing a low-cut gown?”

  Findecano coughed. “Is there anything else?” he asked his secretary.

  The blonde elf glanced at her notes. “You’re under considerable pressure from various special interest groups, all of them demanding action. One such group, BADD, is baying for the dragon’s blood.”

  “BADD?” Meerwen asked.

  “Bothered About Dangerous Dragons.”

  * * *

  I woke naked and in a hole.

  It says something about an elf’s drinking habits that I didn’t see anything wrong with either of that. I ached all over, and I needed to use magic to soothe my joints and muscles. Again, that was to be expected.

  I was in a forest, but for some reason the earth was torn up to one side. As if something had crashed, skipped, and crashed again, plowing up the ground as it went. Trees had been knocked down, and the ones bordering the clearing were branchless and splintered.

  I’d forgotten something. I looked down at the hole. It was shaped vaguely like… what…?

  Oh, hell.

  I’d done that! I’d turned into a dragon and murdered my master. I’d also fought several combat mages and killed a few. I was perversely proud of that, but then I despaired. Valandil, a man I’d known twenty years, was dead by my hand. So were others.

  If that weren’t bad enough, there was an alien mind in my head and it would extinguish me in less than three months. To say I was in big trouble would be the understatement of the century. I was twice damned, twice condemned.

  On the bright side, they probably didn’t want me as king anymore.

  It took two hours to find a road. I was somewhere on the Green Plains, roughly between Drystone and the southernmost city of Vergath. I’d flown farther than I thought.

  Thankfully, I was no longer naked. Say what you will about our drinking habits, but elves come prepared. I’d tucked a set of clothes into hammerspace. Granted, the thin shirt and boat shoes weren’t the best for a midnight hike, but I’d packed them against waking up in a strange bedroom. Who knew I’d be leaving the city via dragon? It certainly wasn’t in my horoscope.

  Leo: Forces internal and external have put you in a dangerous spot. Maintain control over yourself or risk causing a scene. Now is not the time to debut an outrageous new look.

  It was a clear night, with a full moon, and to make sure I didn’t trip on anything I had my Sight working. Everything was sparkly, but there wasn’t a farmhouse in sight.

  There wasn’t any sign of pursuit, but that made sense. Flying is tremendously draining if you don’t have wings. Also, this far from a city there were no patrols. I was counting my other blessings when—

  “Stand and deliver!” a man boomed.

  Shit.

  The man stepped onto the path. From his voice, size, and manner of dress he was obviously human.

  Humans. There was no mistaking them. Six feet tall, heavily muscled, and armed to the teeth. And that was just the women. This character towered a full head and shoulders over me. He was broad, massive, and decked in fur and leather.

  “Hand over the valuables!” he said, slapping his side so I could see the longsword on his hip. “Come on, be quick a
bout it!”

  “Have you taken a look at me? I’ve only got the clothes on my back.”

  “I’ll have none of that! I know you elves—you all carry pots of gold and cookies.”

  Let’s kill him, Cruix said.

  “Shut up, you bloodthirsty animal!” I said.

  “Hey!” The man looked hurt. “This is a legitimate economic transaction. Just cough up some coins and you’ll be on your way.”

  Regular or extra-crispy?

  I gritted my teeth. “I’ve had a really bad day. Please step aside.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Fine.” I reached behind me and pulled out my sticks.

  The man drew his sword, but hesitated. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  I twirled them, but he didn’t seem impressed. “I have spent twenty years mastering the sword,” he said. “It would be dishonorable to use that skill on an unarmed man.”

  “Hey, I am armed!”

  He shook his shaggy head. “That won’t do.”

  “Another time, then?” I tried to slip past him but he blocked me with the outstretched blade.

  Why don’t we— I silenced Cruix with an effort of will. It was easier now that I was an elf again.

  “If you give me your word not to run away, I shall make the fight more equal,” said the highwayman. Since the alternative was to kill him, I nodded.

  He went to a nearby tree, where he selected a straight branch and hacked it free. Trimming off the twigs, he fashioned a staff as long as his sword.

  “Now we are ready to fight,” he said, holding the staff in a low guard.

  The moon was high and bright, but I asked whether he would need additional light.

  “That will not be necessary,” he said, and I saw his own eyes flash. Oh, right. Humans have catlike night vision.

  We attacked at the same time, our weapons splitting the air. Stick met staff met stick. We parried and swung. Our weapons clacked—they clattered and cracked. He had a double reach advantage (longer arms and longer weapon) but I was dual-wielding. And the first rule when fighting a dual wielder is Watch both hands.

  He parried my strike, went for a rib shot. I batted it aside and snapped a cut at his head. He grunted. He jabbed with the staff and I twisted aside and let it pass. Then I drummed on his chest. Bam-bam-bam.