by David Adams
I SPENT THE REST OF that day trying everything I could think of to convince Tyermumtican to tell me what he knew of my parentage, but the dragon gave me nothing. Over and over I begged, pleaded, demanded, and even once threatened. That seemed to amuse him; he let me finish, eyes bright with curiousity, then turned his aura of fear on me once again. Once again I lost control of my body. Khavi laughed at my cowardice until Tyermumtican turned it on him too, with similar results. Our craven begging and crying amused the mighty worm greatly, but he released us after a few moments.
I was truly desperate to have threatened such a powerful creature, but I had come too far to fail. To have the knowledge I’d sought for all my life so close but so completely out of my grasp was maddening.
When finally I gave up, slumping on the stones and grumbling to myself about the unfair nature of our dealings and various mutterings about the fecal matter of deceased deities, Tyermumtican took that as an opportunity to change the topic of our conversation, a moment he had seemingly been waiting for. Waiting with the patience of dragons.
“So tell me, Ren, of the disaster that befell your city.”
I looked up at the mighty dragon. “You want to know of Atikala’s doom?”
“I had many ties to the city. Unusual for a dragon of my colour, but I prefer to see past an individual’s shape and colour, to see the soul dwelling within. I had those within Atikala whom I considered friends. I would like to know if they still live.”
I swallowed nervously. “I am afraid, mighty Tyermumtican, that to the best of my knowledge, none live save us.”
I had not expected the copper dragon to take this news with anything other than glee, but his features fell as I told him. He was hurt but accepting of the facts. Ready to move beyond the past to more practical matters. “That is as I feared. I had hoped you could shed some light on this, but you have only two eyes and the caverns of the underworld are vast. I shall conduct investigations of my own. Thank you, however.”
The very thought of such a mighty creature thanking me was so completely alien that I shook my head. “You are a dragon,” I said, “you cannot be thankful to one such as I.”
The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “That is Ren of Atikala talking,” he said, “not Ren, sorceress and warrior, shaper of her own destiny.”
I held up my claws, so similar in structure to his, but one hundredth the size. “I am not mighty.”
“You think Laughless was not mighty?” Slowly Tyermumtican began to shrink, his scales forming back into skin, and soon the gnome called Laughless stood before us, his eyes as milky white as before, but now matching our gaze. “Power comes not just from size, Ren. Every one of us has power of a sort, and power is power. Axiomatic though that may seem, it is true.” Tyermumtican shrugged his gnome shoulders, holding out a pudgy hand. “Do you think I could walk into Stonehaven as myself, instead of wearing this guise?”
“No,” I answered. “The reaction of the gnomes aside, I have seen the gates. You could not fit.”
“So Laughless could go where I could not. Further, Laughless could more accurately gauge the intent of those who approached my lair, to discern their true intent—theft, trade, or peace. Thus, Laughless has a unique advantage over me, having a skill that I do not. In the right circumstances, Laughless, that blind, ancient gnome, is more powerful than I could ever be.”
It made sense, but his case seemed to be entirely theoretical. “Unless you need to go somewhere only a kobold can go, then I doubt I have more power than you do.”
Tyermumtican’s gnome face became an impish smirk. “And what makes you think I couldn’t appear to be a kobold?”
I threw up my hands. “Even more reason!”
He laughed, the dragon in gnome form seemingly overcome with mirth, but then the amusement slowly evaporated from him.
“Ren, I know it can be hard to see, but there is some truth in what I’ve said. Someday you’ll discover that there’s a power within you that’s more than you are now. Your friend is too stupid to do anything like that, but you…I sense something about you. I sense you are destined for great things.” A sad edge filtered into his tone. “And great pain.”
“Pain?”
“This is the curse of all those who bear great power. Each of us suffer our burdens, and those are stones we carry until we are dead. The greater our strength, the more weight life stacks on our backs.”
I stared curiously at Tyermumtican, his frail gnome form matching my gaze. “What pains could a dragon possibly bear?”
I had expected mockery or for Tyermumtican to have some clever way of showing how stupid I was, but I got something else. “Do you know why they call me Laughless?”
I shook my head. “I thought it was just a name for your gnome-face.”
“Laughless was what the gnomes called me, what I called myself to them. Names have meanings, Ren.” His tone became wistful. “I knew a gnome once. The most beautiful female I’d ever seen…witty, charming, and with a disarming smile. Her name was Embermoss. Despite our obvious differences, I fell in love with her.”
“Love?” It was a strange word. Definitely draconic, but not one I’d heard before. The root word meant close ally, but it was conjugated in a way I had not seen before. “What is love?”
Tyermumtican smiled at me and, despite his kindness, I had the distinct impression that he was grossly oversimplifying the matter, as one might do when talking to a hatchling. “Something stronger than any magic. A force that, if nurtured and grown, can overcome any adversity, survive through any hardship. A power as immortal as stone itself.”
He was talking down to me, but I still didn’t understand. “So dragons are love?”
He laughed, a loud, shaking boom that seemed so strange coming from such a frail creature. It reminded me of the dragon within.
“Ren, you are adorable. No, love is many things. A feeling deep within you. It is knowing that you care for someone, care for them so deeply and utterly that you are, in a way, a part of them. If that love is returned, it is one soul inhabiting two bodies. A friendship set on fire. Two hearts beating as one, possessed with a profound longing for each other.”
“Possession. As though, from a ghost? Or a daemonic force?”
“Some might say that the feeling is somewhat similar to being haunted or having a raging demon within, yes. But it is a good feeling.”
I did not see how having a pit-spawned monster or a vengeful spirit sharing space within my body could ever be considered good. “If you tell me it is so, Tyermumtican. What happened after you were possessed?”
“After I was…possessed as you say…Embermoss and I talked for hours on end. We told jokes, riddles, rhymes. We made each other laugh. Few can keep up with a copper dragon when it comes to humour, but she was ever my equal. Better, perhaps. We eventually married.”
“What is married?”
“It means permanently mated to one another and only each other.”
I frowned. “Permanently? To one partner? What about the genetic diversity of the community or the potential for one partner to die before the other or—”
Tyermumtican held up his stubby gnome hands. “Ren, please.”
I fell silent, and he continued.
“We married, and we conceived a child. I was, of course, in the form of a gnome—but younger, with a full head of hair.” He seemed pleased at the memory, and I studied him intently. “We raised our child as well as we could, teaching her all that we together knew, which I assure you was quite a lot. We named her Chime, for the sound of her easy laugh, and she grew to be strong, eventually leaving us to wander the world to see what we had spoken of. Embermoss and I shared a life together.” The dragon’s voice cracked as he spoke. “Her life.”
I shuffled my claws on the stone. “Tyermumtican, how many years ago was this?”
“Three hundred years since Chime left for the surface. More or less.”
“So Embermoss is long dead of old age, then.”
&nb
sp; Tyermumtican closed his milky gnome eyes. “Her grave is deeper in my lair. And Chime would now be dead, too. Her children, if she had any, would be as old as this body—or dead too. The day Embermoss died, the day that one soul inhabited one body again, was the day my laughter left me. This is what I mean when I speak of burdens.”
I was not comfortable contradicting a dragon, especially so often as I had been. “But you do laugh. I’ve heard you laugh. You did just before.”
“Of course. I am what I am, and I find joy in small things. But nobody can make me laugh as she did. Laughing until it hurts. Laughing until you think you’re going to die from lack of air, laughing at something so ludicrous and impossible it comes alive and renders you completely helpless.”
“Why would anyone want to be helpless?”
Tyermumtican shook his head, his face falling. I struggled to find meaning behind his words but I knew I had failed to grasp the point of some subtle but important lesson.
“I just don’t understand,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not be. You have amused me and brought back many memories, which makes me happy.” He shifted, then turned back to me. “Thank you for the visit, Ren of Atikala, but I feel that it’s time you and your friend departed.”
I lowered my head, biting down on my lip. I had not learnt who I was and had gained nothing except a vague sense of confusion. I had heard lessons I didn’t understand either the content or purpose of. “As you wish,” I said, “but where do we go?”
“With Atikala destroyed, I suggest you head towards Ssarsdale. I’ll wager you will find your cousins there accommodating.”
“We had the same idea,” I said, “but we were unsure as to the way.”
He seemed to anticipate this response. “Perhaps I can assist then. Truly, you will find the journey perilous as you will have to cross the surface, but I can provide you with a map that will allow you to avoid many obstacles.” He gave me a warm smile. “And if Six-Legs bothers you on your way, just tell him that you travel under my banner. That should send him scurrying back to his dung-filled hole.”
The memory of the spider sent a shiver down my spine. “You know of Six-Legs?”
“I made him Six-Legs.” Tyermumtican licked his lips. “Dragons can eat almost anything.”
