Dragon Breeder 3

by Dante King

  Time blurred as it always does when you get caught in the converging currents of good food, excellent music, flowing drink, and top-notch company. The stars wheeled overhead. Bonfires leapt up into the night sky, clawing at the heavens with their flickering orange fingers.

  At some point, I turned around to ask Bjorn and Rupert a question and found that my two friends had vanished. Where and when and why they had left me I had no idea, but I hoped that they were even now enjoying the company of women who would leave a kink in a man’s back the next day.

  I was strolling casually along one of the wooden promenades when, with a shattering crash that must have made itself heard down in the abandoned streets of the ratfolk settlement, the window that fronted the alehouse exploded out into the street. Shards of thin, poorly made glass scattered across the wooden walkway and out into the mud beyond it. Two soldiers landed hard on the boards only a couple of feet in front of the toes of my boots.

  Both women lay groaning on the deck for a moment. Then, catching each other's eyes, they rolled to their feet and went at one another once more. They moved unsteadily, as if the boulevard was actually the moving deck of a ship. I realized that they were, unsurprisingly, filled to the back teeth with beer.

  Moving instinctively, I grabbed the women by their uniform collars and pulled them apart and held them on their tiptoes. I had to give them their due, they were still keen to get at one another, swinging haymakers through the air and lashing out with kicks that wouldn’t have hurt even if they had connected.

  “Ladies!” I said. “This isn’t the time or the place! What the hell are you fighting about?”

  One of the women looked at me blearily. Finding it difficult to focus on however many of me she was seeing, she closed one eye and said, “We were fighting ‘bout… Um… We were fighting about…. What the fuck were we fighting about again, Corsa?”

  The woman in my other hand, who had gone limp and looked like she might be quite happy to nod off in my grip, jerked her chin up. “Eh? Oh, hello, Cox, what’re you doin’ here, love?”

  “You just tackled me through the fecking window, Corsa,” Cox said.

  “I never did!” Corsa said.

  I rolled my eyes and let the two women go.

  The two inebriates gave each other a hug, like a couple of weary travelers who have not laid eyes upon one another for too long.

  At that moment, the barman came storming out of the rickety establishment, a stout length of wood in his hand. He caught sight of the two embracing drunks and opened his mouth to start yelling.

  Then, a great collective ‘Ooooooh!’ of delight rose and spread, until it engulfed the entire street and everyone on it. The landlord’s furious bellows were drowned by the sound of hundreds of throats all emitting the same sound of delighted awe. It was the same voice that people adopt when they are gathered into a large enough group and fireworks are let off.

  I turned around and added my voice to the reverential chorus, as the music from all the different sources died.

  The dragon lanterns were all aglow now, burning with fluttering flames of yellow, green, blue, pink, and purple. How they had been bewitched I had no idea, but even as I looked at them, I noticed that some of them were moving.

  And not with the wind.

  The lanterns began to break themselves free of the strings on which they were strung. They stretched papery wings, shook their long papery necks, and clambered up to stand on the strings from which they had so recently hung. The way that they moved, it looked like they should have been weighing the string down. Of course, though, they still weighed next to nothing.

  “Damn, but this world just keeps on surprising you, doesn’t it?” I breathed to myself.

  With a great rustling sigh, all of the dragon lanterns took suddenly to the air. It was a multicolored spectacle the likes of which I had never seen before, like a meteor shower in reverse. The flock of lanterns lifted into the air and drifted up, flapping, into the heavens. A few wolf-whistles rang out—as they can always be relied upon to do during such moments.

  All in all though, the audience of thousands of troopers was quiet, stunned. Eyes were wide and reflected the many-hued light of the ascending paper dragon lanterns. Looking around, I spotted more than a few tear-streaked faces.

  I thought it an interesting observation of intelligent life; that people could be surrounded by such miraculous magic all day every day, could walk the streets with all sorts of wondrous creatures, including dragons, and not bat an eyelid. Yet, with a bit of booze and some pretty, light-filled lanterns that any child could make, those same people—many of them hardened warriors—could be reduced to tears.

  “Maybe,” Noctis’ voice echoed quietly in my head, “it is not the paper toys themselves that moves the humanoids so, perhaps it is the idea which their flight represents.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked. My brain was sloshing about contentedly in ale, like a pig wallowing in mud.

  “New life,” Noctis said at once. “That is what the releasing of the lanterns signifies, or it did when I was young. New life. New dragons rising. They embody the idea that even in a world of violent destruction, still great things can be created.”

  “Anyone ever told you that dragons are a modest and self-effacing bunch?” I asked, staring up at the dwindling specks of light as they flapped heavenward.

  “No,” Noctis said flatly.

  The lanterns rose higher and higher, until their colors became almost indistinguishable, and those that were white or yellow or gold blended in with the stars in the velvet background behind them.

  Chatter started to rise once more, but then a voice that I recognized as belonging to none other than Bjorn, roared out of the crowd.

  “The Empire rises!”

  The call was taken up, first by a few, then by many and then by all.

  “The Empire rises!”

  “The Empire rises! The Empire rises!”

  “Long live the Mystocean Empire!”

  As if on cue, music started up from all quarters once more and the volume of the assembled soldiers rose to meet it.

  Smiling dazedly to myself, I dropped my eyes back to the street, thinking that I might just treat myself to something hot and greasy from Old Sleazy.

  My eyes landed on the shaved head of the bearmancer, Hana.

  She was standing gazing up at the lanterns that were all but invisible now. Her large eyes glimmering, a slight frown creasing her brow. Her hands were bound in front of her, although the manacles were not made to be obvious. The sleeves of her voluminous cloak almost completely hid them from a casual glance. There was a dragonmancer, whom I recognized from my Arcane Practice class, standing behind her, clearly acting as a guard.

  Acting on impulse, I strolled up behind her and touched the dragonmancer on the shoulder.

  “Can I chat with this one for a bit?” I asked her.

  The woman, black-haired and black-eyed, shrugged. “No skin off my nose, so long as you don’t free her.”

  I nodded my thanks, stepped forward, and touched the elbow of the engrossed bearmancer.

  Hana’s head snapped around, and her lip curled back from her teeth in a bestial snarl. When she saw who it was, she relaxed somewhat.

  “You,” she said.

  “Me,” I agreed. “Are you enjoying the festivities?”

  Hana looked up at where the dragon-shaped lanterns had vanished into the night sky. “It was… a moving spectacle,” she said grudgingly.

  “Nice of General Shiloh to let you out to see it,” I said.

  The bearmancer snorted and held up her chained hands. “Oh yes,” she said. “Your general is quite the hostess.”

  I snared two cups of inferno rum from a generous man carrying around a small barrel and offering much needed libations to the hammered crowd around him. I held one out to Hana.

  “No, thank you,” she said.

  “Come on,” I cajoled her. “Things aren’t as bad as you seem to think t
hey are.”

  “I’m a prisoner of war, no?” Hana asked, in that lovely rhythmic accent of hers.

  “Well, yeah, on paper, I suppose you are, but General Shiloh is just making sure that you can be trusted not to do anything stupid. She won’t hold you in bonds like this forever.”

  “You seem very sure,” Hana said.

  I held the drink higher, and she finally accepted it.

  “I am sure,” I said. “I’m sure that you can be trusted.”

  “How do you know?” Hana asked me.

  “I have had lots of practice judging books by their covers,” I said, sipping my cup of inferno rum. “And you do not strike me as a baddie.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “What do I strike you as, then?” the bearmancer asked, taking a tentative sip of her drink.

  “You strike me as someone who doesn’t harp on about honor, you just live it,” I said simply.

  Hana narrowed her eyes at me as she regarded me over the edge of her cup. Then she said, “You would not have bested me in unarmed combat, as you did in the temple, were it not for that abomination that is the Mystocean Transfusion Ceremony.”

  I frowned.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “You’re a mancer too. You have the power of the creature you share your mind with, don’t you?”

  “We do not go through a Transfusion Ceremony with the creatures with whom we bond,” she said, her voice colored with mild disgust. “We do not degrade them so.”

  “You don’t share your bear’s blood?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

  “No. Such a thing is a vile Mystocean custom,” Hana replied.

  “So, if you haven’t shared blood with your bear, then you don’t have its strength or enhanced abilities, right?”

  The bearmancer nodded briefly; a short, sharp nod.

  “Do the Vetruscans not use a Transfusion Ceremony with their bears ever?” I asked.

  “No,” Hana said. She drained her cup and set it on a railing at her elbow. She swallowed slowly, looking hard at me.

  “Wait,” she said, “you don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?” I asked.

  “You dragonmancers are actually the only mancers who make use of the bonding magic that you refer to as the Transfusion Ceremony.”

  My eyebrows rose. “That can’t be right.”

  Hana gave me an almost pitiful stare.

  “It is why the other civilizations who have mancers hold the dragonmancers of the Mystocean Empire in such low regard. Many think of them—of you—as being as bad as the Bloodletters, whom you revile so much.”

  “Why?” I asked, leaning in closer so that I could be heard over the noise of a brass band that was going hell for leather not too far away.

  “Why do you think? For the way that you intermingle the blood of your sacred creatures, your dragons, with those who would use their powers. To go ahead with such a violent and invasive act on such sacred beasts…” The bearmancer shook her head. “The Mystoceans are, in the eyes of these other Empires, abominations.”

  It was not nice being called an ‘abomination.’ I felt this even through the fog of the booze that held me tight in a warm, loving hand. It was a big, heavy, harsh word. Sat about as comfortably as a pair of steel wool boxers.

  Before I could ask anything else, or get the bearmancer to educate me more on the feelings of those that lay outside the Empire’s borders, the Rank One dragonmancer guard stepped forward.

  “Time’s up,” she said, placing an authoritative hand on the prisoner’s shoulder. “The General expressly instructed me that you could watch the lantern release but must be returned to your quarters immediately afterward.”

  Hana gave me a last thoughtful look. “Thank you for the drink, Dragonmancer Noctis. It gives me heart.”

  “The inferno rum?” I said. “Yeah, it’ll do that. Gives you the gods’ own hangover though too if you over do it.”

  “No,” the bearmancer said, trying and failing to hide the grin that lit her features. “It gives me heart to talk to you. You said that you are an astute judge of character, but so too am I.”

  The dragonmancer began to guide Hana away, with the firm and resolute hand of one who knows that once they get their prisoner back to her quarters, they can then go and get drunk with everyone else.

  “And what do you judge me to be?” I called after her.

  “Not like the rest,” came the soft reply.

  I stood there, after Hana had been taken away, mulling things over.

  But, not for long.

  “Mike! I’m so glad that I ran into you!”

  It was Elenari.

  “Hey, Elenari,” I said, “it’s good to see you.”

  I squinted at the elf and saw that she was in full battle dress.

  “You look very… dangerous.” I peered at her more closely, and suspicion clouded my face. “And sober. What gives?”

  Elenari beamed at me. “And you look the opposite,” she teased, pulling me down so that she could kiss me.

  I lost myself in the kiss, allowing my mind to drift like a palm frond caught on a tide.

  “Mmmm,” Elenari said, “you taste like a distillery.”

  “That’s the taste of desire, m’lady,” I said with a crooked grin. “So, what really is the occasion for you being in full armor?”

  “You didn’t hear?” Elenari asked me, a feverish exhilaration burning in her green eyes.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, grabbing a tankard from a passing gnoll bearing a tray. “What’s going on?”

  “General Shiloh gave me permission to be in the vanguard for three whole legions. We’re going into the Subterranean Realms to secure the ratfolk town, and then press on to explore further!” Elenari gushed.

  “No shit!” I said. “Just you?”

  “No, there are a few dragonmancers taking other legions too,” Elenari said, “but still… After so long having to hang back while the rest of you got to go into danger, this is exactly what I needed.”

  I put a hand out and pulled the red-headed elf into a rough hug. Elenari laughed as I patted her head clumsily.

  “I’m happy for you. You’ll be amazing. I’d follow your perfectly toned and highly capable ass into battle no questions asked. I’m sure the troops you lead will feel just the same.”

  Elenari smiled up at me. “Thanks, Mike.”

  “For what?”

  “For having my back.”

  I grinned roguishly. “It’s a hell of a back. And the front isn’t too bad either.”

  Elenari slapped me on the chest.

  “When do you leave?” I asked.

  “Tonight,” Elenari said. “Hence the sobriety. Actually, I’m due to march out within the hour. I just wanted to say goodbye to you and Saya, and anyone else that I could find.”

  I hugged her again.

  “Well, good luck,” I said. “Not that you need it. You’re as capable as they come. Just ask that prick who robbed me when we first met.”

  Elenari cupped my face with her hands and nodded.

  “See you soon,” she said.

  “Don’t forget to bring me back a present,” I quipped.

  We kissed, long and hard, then Elenari grinned and disappeared into the crowd with a sexy little salute.

  I wandered through the throng of men and women dancing and gyrating in the street, moving to the rhythm being laid down by a trio of drummers and one guy working hard on a horn.

  There were some nutty individuals playing a game of Dragon Balls to the wild delight of a crowd of onlookers. This game involved a line of people rubbing a high potency alcohol through their hair. The first team member lit their head on fire and then passed the flame on to the next person’s head before dousing their own flaming dome with a mug of water. And on it went down the line in a highly incautious relay game.

  A few of the more agile and sober soldiers had started a limbo line, and trooper after trooper was attempting to worm t
heir way under a flaming rope.

  I watched the line of drunken fighters try their luck at the rope, whistling and cheering along with the rest when some flexible soul who still had command of their center of gravity managed to make their way under it.

  I was just applauding one prize jackass who had managed to hit himself in the forehead with the burning rope so that he was left with a neat red line across his head, when someone came up behind me and started pulling on my shirt sleeve.

  “M-M-Mike!” Rupert gulped breathless. “Mike, you have t-t-to come quick!”

  “Why?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “It’s Tamsin,” Rupert stuttered, as he tried to catch his breath, “she’s—”

  “The dragonling?” I shot at him.

  Rupert nodded, obviously not trusting his words.

  “Lead the way,” I said.

  Rupert and I ran back to the campsite that had been set aside especially for the Drako Academy dragonmancers. I left Rupert outside the tent that he indicated.

  I walked into the tent to find Tamsin side on, lying on the ground on a pile of sheepskins and wolf hides. Having missed the births of Wayne and Garth, I had been braced to find a woman in the throes of extreme stress—birthing anything has been known to raise the pulse a little. I recalled the Seer telling me how dragon births were nothing like regular births, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was about to see something that might forever change the way I viewed womanly parts.

  Instead, I found Tamsin dressed in a shift, breathing quite normally, though rivulets of sweat ran down her body.

  “You’re… just in… time, Earthling,” she hissed. Her yellow eyes narrowed as she bared sharp white teeth.

  “Just in—?” I started to say.

  Tamsin opened her legs and a shaft of pure, blazing light lit the tent. So bright was it, it looked like a car with its high beams on was driving right out of the hobgoblin’s—

  I covered my eyes as the light flared even brighter.

  “Holy shit!” I said, my drunken brain reeling under the onslaught of the brilliant light.

  And then, it faded.

  Purple blotches obscured my vision, and I blinked impatiently to clear them. When I could finally see again, I looked down and my breath caught.