by Ian Rodgers
“But it’s getting dark,” Greg’s wife cautioned, glancing towards the window. Velvety darkness seeped across the land, and blanketed the village of Green Stump, but I just chuckled.
“It’s alright, I have ways to see without needing light. Perks of being a student of magic, and all.”
Greg and his family looked impressed, and followed me outside to watch. I warned them it would be boring, but they shrugged and claimed they had nothing better to do.
I felt a tad uncomfortable being watched so closely by strangers, but I got the Alarm spells layered over the fields. If anything broke through, I would know!
.
BREEE-UUU! BREEE-UUU!
I jolted awake as imaginary warning bells went off in my ‘head.’ I struggled out of the bed Greg had been kind enough to let me borrow, and quickly dressed myself in robe and illusion.
My Alarm spell had gone off, signaling that something had breached the perimeter of the fields. And since I had set the spell to only go off if something weighing half a ton or more had entered, odds were it was the Rumble Boar I was tasked to slay.
At my side Rosa awoke, groggily rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
“You don’t have to come with me. You can sleep in if you want,” I said softly, rubbing her head fondly.
(No, I can go, I’m a big girl, I’m not tired!) she protested before yawning widely. She stiffened, a meek, embarrassed expression crossing her face. I just laughed and let her float down into one of my pockets.
“Now, let’s hunt!” I declared as I hurried out of the house. Dawn was just barely beginning to creep up over the horizon, so the ambient light levels were terrible. Thankfully it wasn’t a problem for me, but I could see how regular humans would be hard pressed to deal with any problems that arose this late. Or early, I suppose.
Just up ahead, near the north-eastern patch of Green Stump’s fields, was a veritable boulder of muscle and bristly hair.
The Rumble Boar was indeed as huge as the farmers had surmised; fourteen feet long, and standing as tall as a horse. Six curved tusks protruded from its mouth, though they all sported nicks and scratches. Evidence of battles fought, no doubt. It’s hide was dark brown, almost black, and blended in well with the dirt and the darkness around it. However, there was a noticeable lump of scar tissue where its nose and left eye should have been. No wonder it couldn’t smell anything, it didn’t even have a nose with which to sniff!
It’s last good eye was focused entirely on the roots and seeds it was digging up out of the field, scarfing down the crops with wild abandon.
“Time to trap it!” I announced, and Rosa nodded. I slammed the butt of my staff against the ground, and it shook slightly as I sent Earth magic through it.
The massive porcine creature looked up in my direction, huffing at the challenge. It scraped the ground before charging forward, ready to ram me.
I stood my ground, waiting for it to get closer. Rumble Boars were C-ranked magical beasts, possessing the ability to use the Earth Element spell Quake. All it did was create tremors in a small area, not unlike a miniature earthquake. This was why Rumble Boar were dangerous against an unprepared foe. A sudden, unexpecting shaking could throw a person off balance, and then they’d be gored and trampled by the ton of muscle that slammed into them while stunned.
I, however, was not an unprepared foe. Before the creature got half-way towards me and in range for its Quake attack, Rosa and I pooled our magic for a joint casting of the Pit spell. A simple Level Two spell, it created a hole in that ground to trap a target. Very basic, and easily dodged. But, perfect for a near-blind, charging foe.
A massive, gaping pit opened up in front of the Rumble Boar, and even if it had seen it, its momentum was too great and it wouldn’t have been able to stop on time. It tumbled into the hole with a loud, startled squeal, accompanied by a meaty thud as it slammed down into the opening.
It was still alive, though, despite three broken legs, and I strode forward confidently to finish it off.
I stopped at the edge of the magically made pit, and raised my staff high into the air, channeling magic into a rapier thin blade of wind, hovering directly above the trapped beast’s head. Rumble Boar were good eating, easily providing a huge amount of fresh meat, and for a small, relatively new farming community, this would be a boon as they’d be able to save money for a while with an entire ton of pork to eat.
“Carve deep, and split all that offends! Wind Sword!” I uttered, casting the spell downwards. The razor-edged blade of enchanted air slashed forth, and there was a wet ‘thunk!’ followed by a grinding sound as the spell sunk into flesh, severing the Rumble Boar’s head from its body before crashing into the dirt beneath.
Immediately, the Rumble Boar faded from my magic sight as the mana within it was extinguished along with its life. I nodded, pleased with the speedy resolution, and together my Familiar and I filled in the hole in such a way that the dirt pushed up the corpse, rather than burying it.
“I think that went well,” I claimed as I stared at the enormous carcass in front of us. Rosa nodded in agreement.
(Nice that this quest didn’t turn out to involve more Rumble Boars attacking us, or that it was actually another monster doing the raiding,) the Ruby Carbuncle said dryly.
I shushed her quickly. “Don’t say that! Saying things like that only tempts fate! Remember the ‘White Pine Cave Incident?’”
Rosa thought for a moment before shivering. (Why were there so many bats?! And why did they eat those laxatives?! WHY?!)
She buried her face in her hands and wept softly, the terrible memories of a cave filled with bats and flying guano escaping her repressed memories.
“Yeah. Next time, please don’t tempt fate by asking ‘is that all?’ or any derivative of the sort which might incline some bored god to interfere with our lives and send us more trouble!”
Suitably chastised, Rosa nodded weakly. I sighed, suddenly tired, and looked back at the houses where interior lights were coming on. The fight had drawn some attention, despite how quick and low key it was.
“Well, let’s go tell Greg the good news,” I said, laying a preservation spell on the meat before heading back to the village proper to inform them of the quest’s completion.
.
I left Green Stump around several hours later. Dawn was already peeking up over the hills and vales of Drakon, and there wasn’t any reason to stick around the village. I said my thanks and goodbyes, of course, and the farmers were overjoyed that I left them the Rumble Boar’s carcass to do with as they wished.
As the adventurer who killed it, the magical beast’s remains were my spoils of war, so to speak. But what use did I, or Haven for that matter, have with a ton of pork? Sure, the tusks could be sold to a blacksmith, who’d grind them up and use them as an abrasive for polishing steel, but I was out in the rural regions which made finding a smith to buy the them somewhat tricky. And, if I was honest, I just did not like the idea of lugging around an entire corpse in my Dimensional Pocket.
No, it was not just easier, but kinder, to leave the Rumble Boar to the farmers.
As I walked back towards the marsh so I could use it as a shortcut to reach Haven, I noticed that the overwhelming presence of the pink dragoness from yesterday was gone. When had she left? I hadn’t heard anything fly off. After all, several tons of muscle and scale flapping house-sized wings generates a significant amount of noise and wind.
I shrugged after pondering it for a moment. She probably had other things to do.
Of course, that’s when I almost ran into the dragon in question. Pomegranate had indeed left her previous spot, only to move towards the area I’d passed through to get to Green Stump.
She lay in the middle of my path, basking in the dawn light, blocking my path to Blackbriar Marsh, and radiating smugness at catching me off guard.
Rosa whimpered, hiding in my pocket, her instincts acting up and shouting at her to flee. Dragons loved shiny, precious stones and
metals. And a Carbuncle was a favorite prey for those draconic beings who cared little for ‘the sanctity of sapient life’ and took what they desired. Fear of dragons and creatures with draconic heritage was ingrained into Rosa’s species.
And yet, the pink dragon did nothing. Instead, it simply lay there, watching me with a piercing stare from her wine-colored eyes.
There was a way past her, though. A tiny squeeze of a path past her pink scaled bulk. Of course, if she wanted to, at any moment the dragoness could lash out and end my life as I tried to slip by. But she hadn’t bothered to do anything, yet, so I took a deep breath and moved past her.
Pomegranate the Dragon watched me as I left, head tilted curiously.
“Why do you help them?” Her voice was deep, yet feminine, and carried a noble air. She sounded both incredulous and intrigued as she asked me her question.
I froze, surprised to hear her speak, and turned to give the pink scaled behemoth my full attention. Anything less would be rude, and dragons had pride that stepped over the border into arrogance.
It took me a bit to process her question. “It was a job. They paid me to help them.”
“Why? They were weak, unable to keep their own nests safe. You could have taken whatever you wanted from them, and they couldn’t stop you. There was no need to bother giving them assistance in exchange for what you desired.”
“That’s not how humans, no, that’s not how civilization works,” I said, shocked by the dragoness’ attitude. Although honestly, it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Dragons were loners. They prized solitude and individual strength over cooperation. Even Lesser Dragons like Hydras and Lindwyrms kept to themselves. Wyverns, which lived in groups like a colony of bats, were an exception, not the rule.
“Bipeds have realized that, while weak when alone, they can be stronger and achieve more when the work together. It’s the basis of who they are. And look at what they’ve made! Cities and nations! Architectural feats that tame the wild! Weapons that can slay creatures many times their size and strength! Asking for help is not a weakness, and neither is giving it. It’s the power of civilization and advancement. Community is the name of this power.”
Pomegranate stared at me unblinkingly for many minutes. The silence grew stifling, and Rosa burrowed deeper into my robe’s pocket as the tension mounted.
“You are not human. Why do you bother with them?”
That question hurt more than I cared to admit, and I flinched unconsciously. But I had my answer. It was part of why I had come to Drakon. It was why I had left Liliana, because I was afraid of her getting hurt. It was why treasured Rosa and Tara more than anything.
“Because I do not want to be alone.”
The mound of scales and raw, primal power snorted, but there was a look of sympathy and understanding in her crimson eyes.
She looked away, dismissing me now that her curiosity was sated, and I eagerly took the opportunity to leave. The dragon had unnerved me. And for some reason I felt she and I were more alike that we chose to admit.
Chapter 11: The drums of war
The morning sun shone brightly over the rolling hills and lush greenery. Beneath the warm light and soft breeze, an elegantly dressed and heavily guarded procession snaked its way through the knolls and trees, drums beating and pipes playing.
Fifty scaled, bipedal beings with the appearances of lizards walked calmly towards a towering stone ziggurat in the distance. Many of them went without shirts, though their legs were covered in woven reed skirts. These bipedal lizards were the ones performing the music.
A smaller group of these travelers wore golden armor and were armed with ceremonial obsidian blades and clubs. Their eyes were sharp, and they stared at everything around them with suspicion.
At the center of the procession was a hunched lizard whose red and orange scales were tarnished with age, eyes milky white and staring at nothing. He wore a robe made of snakeskin, enough gold and silver jewelry to double as armor in its own right, and an elegant gold headdress decorated with vivid blue and purple feathers. He sat upon a palanquin being carried by four of the shirtless servants.
In his lap was a giant, beautiful egg of mottled pink and white. It was easily half of his size, and he held onto it like a precious treasure.
The stench of rotten wood suddenly filled his nostrils and he let out an unconscious growl. A greasy feeling slithered across the scales of the assembled lizardfolk. The entire procession ground to a halt, and the guards looked around, weapons clenched tight, while the other servants nervously glanced around and bunched up close to the palanquin.
“Show yourself, wretch! Who dares to impede the sacred passage of a Priest of the Eternal Dragon?” one of the golden armored guards demanded, shouting out in a hissing language. For a moment, nothing happened. Silence squatted upon the area, increasing the nervousness of the group.
“What does one of the World Rebellion want with a poor, old soul like myself?” the elderly lizardfolk priest asked in Common, his voice strong despite his decrepitude.
At his question, something answered. The bark of a tree nearby rippled, and slowly something pulled itself out of the wood. The leaves upon the branches shriveled up and turned brown, and the plants around the tree died.
Clad in a hooded robe black as tar, and wearing a mask of silver with a tree etched into the surface, the person who dared to halt the religious procession revealed himself, stepping out of the tree.
“It’s nothing personal,” the man said, raising two dark brown hands towards the group. “It’s just that I need a conflict to test someone, and a war suits my needs perfectly.”
Dozens of roots erupted from the ground, lashing out and attacking the lizardfolk. Twenty defenseless servants died screaming as the spears of wood impaled their chests, puncturing their hearts. The rest of the wooden tendrils were blocked by a hastily raised shield of fire courtesy of the priest and turned to ash.
The golden warriors reacted, lunging at the assassin, swinging their weapons. Glowing auras surrounded their weapons, and as they struck, shockwaves of energy smashed into a wooden wall that rose from the ground in front of the masked man. No, not a wall, but five dead trees that suddenly grew from nowhere!
The silver-masked man waved his hands dismissively, and the trees that had protected him exploded outwards, splinters scything into the lizardfolk unlucky enough to be without defenses. The golden armor protected the guards, however, and the fiery shield around the palanquin saved the remaining lizardfolk.
None of them had a chance to relax, though, as thorny vines erupted forth around the legs and tails of the procession’s defenders. They were pulled apart messily in a shower of bone, scales, and blood. Their screams were cut short as the vines shoved themselves down their throats and strangled them from the inside.
The assassin glanced over at the handful of surviving lizardfolk and stepped forward, a menacing aura surrounding him. One of the servants screamed and tried to run, but was stabbed by multiple stake-like roots and died, bleeding out of countless wounds.
The priest shook his head and raised his gnarled claws. “Make peace with the Dragon God, my children. Pray for warmer suns and a brighter future.”
Magical power gathered around him, and the fire that had protected them coalesced into a fireball and shot off at the World Rebellion agent. The spell made it less than ten feet before being smothered by a number of vines shooting out of the earth and wrapping around it.
Then, with a wave of the dark robed figure’s left hand, glittering dark green powder wafted through the air, instantly inhaled by the survivors. Their scales fell off their bodies as they rotted from the inside out, and their eyes and noses bled. They dropped to their knees, gasping for air, unable to scream. The palanquin fell, and the priest collapsed into the grass, still clutching the egg.
“Might I know the name of the one who slew me? I wish to take it to the grave so Lord Aravantis can know whom to punish when your own death comes,” the pr
iest inquired, only a hint of the pain he felt showing in his shaking voice.
“I am the Root of the World Rebellion, Apostle of the Dweller in the Void,” the man in the silver mask declared. A thorn covered spear rose from the ground into his hands, and he stepped forward over to the dying priest. He thrust the weapon and pierced both the egg and the elderly lizard’s heart.
Three… lilies… will usher in… your doom,” the priest wheezed out as the last breath of life left him.
The assassin stared at the corpse for a moment before reaching down and ripping a small, script covered ring from the priest’s left hand. He pocketed it and turned away, before walking into a nearby tree, whisked away from the scene of carnage.
.
The town of Ryegrid bustled and hummed with life and activity. The walled settlement was a large hub for the farms and various industries around the outer edge of the New Castella territory. Here, farmers brought their produce, ranchers brought their animals, loggers brought in lumber, and miners brought ores to be bought and sold and sent all over Drakon and back to the kingdoms in Orria.
It was a moderate sized town, and not as vital a trading center as Pollastra or Windfish City, but Ryegrid had its place as a gateway to the more rugged, wild, and untamed lands to the west.
Placed as it was on the boundaries of civilization, adventurers flocked there, too. It was a staging ground for the Guild, and bounties, missions, quests, and jobs galore were available. And where adventurers went, gold flowed. Smithies dedicated solely to producing and maintaining weapons and armor stood side-by-side with supply shops for travel. There was even a pawn store that exclusively bought from adventurers!
Ryegrid bustled, and it thrived. But this day, a sense of dread and foreboding settled over it like a black fog. No one was sure why, but everyone felt it weighing down on their mind and soul.
Then, as noon rolled around, the unease grew to a head, as people observed a tree in the center of town starting to wither and die, its leaves turning black and crumbling to dust. On the bark of the tree ripples appeared, the surface distorting as a figure in a black robe and silver mask emerged from it.
