Waking pre-dawn in this bed where our pile of bodies has somehow become more-tightly entangled and intimately cuddling over the course of a few hours of sleep, is amazing. Still, I extricate myself from the pile of my loved ones, and, unable to help myself, I kiss each of them softly on the lips, save Prinrin. I wouldn’t steal a kiss from someone whose one explicit boundary was the sharing of her lips with anyone else. For Prinrin, I simply squeeze her left shoulder once in a gentle caress before leaving bed. Well, I don’t kiss Lucky on the lips either, I kiss him on his forehead.
Leaving Kinzul’s chambers, heading towards the feasting hall, I find myself a bit surprised by the hustle and bustle of how many people are awake and active. Some of them do look haggard, as if they’re on their way to bed, or as if sleep wasn’t kind to them, but I can certainly empathize. I sit on a bench in one of the hallways leading into the feasting hall as I dig into the dimensional pocket to pull the smartphone out of the hyperdimensional haversack.
I can’t help holding my breath in anticipation and excitement as I hold the power button, unsure of if it will turn on, boot up, load, or what. It feels like a full minute passes before the screen suddenly, blindingly brightens as the phone powers on. I don’t recognize the name for the O S, but why would I? It feels like an eternity as several minute pass while the phone is booting up for the first time. Hopefully it doesn’t require this much patience each time I turn it on.
Okay, wow, having an accurate clock is nice to start. I don’t know how it knew the time, but that feels approximately appropriately accurate, and it is the correct day of the correct month. There’s an N F C app, near field communication, a notepad app, and very little else that’s currently accessible. Most of the things I can think to do with a smartphone aren’t yielding results yet, as if parts of it are locked off to me. Perhaps in an effort to keep me from accidentally screwing myself out of the ability to use it. I know I’d fiddle around in the settings right away, especially to check out things like networking, brightness, languages supported, and so on.
Well, I suppose I can make a note of some of the th—. There are already notes in the notepad app. One is “Shops Required For Catalogue Setup.” I hesitantly open it, holding my breath in anticipation once more. It’s a list of names, with Luni, Te, Kinzul, me, Attraxiaz, Lil, and a few names I don’t know. The last one is bolded and underlined three times, Leezahna. That’s ominous. Does that mean it’s someone that’s dead? Someone that’s in Terrorzin’s forces that I need to make sure to offer mercy to, to rescue?
Phew, I’m not sure I’m ready to accept the possibility that we might already be screwed. I need to take a few deep breaths and relax while waiting on the two Thunderers. Trying to relax a ways away from the feasting hall, I sense a large group of bodies, and my hypersensitive hearing kicks in, despite me not wanting to eavesdrop. I sense about six conversants, there’s a bunch of early-morning chatter, but when the topic of conversation maneuvers its way to me, I can’t help paying a bit of attention. I’ve just decided to refer to them in my head as numbers arbitrarily, based on who was speaking earlier in their gossip gabbing.
The first voice complains, “Nobody goes out, fights two dragons, wins both fights, and fights a horde of underestimated mages, and comes back healthier than when they left. No one.”
Voice numero dos quietly mutters, “Schism did.”
The third voice, a familiar, higher pitched, very full of themselves, angrier voice comments, “There’s no way that ugly little troll did any such thing. He probably had our Lady and our Star do all the work, if anything.”
The second voice, one I couldn’t really hear while it was quiet, a cracked, reedy, feminine, familiar voice, more audibly retorts, “Schism isn’t a he, but whatever you need to believe to feel better about yourself.”
That third voice snips back, “Ugh, screw you. Nasty little freak will get an even bigger head and float around here like he owns the place if people start buying into the propaganda of him being such a badass. Just expecting people to go along with his plans because our Lady sees her old flame in him.”
The second voice chimes in, “You did not just say that about our Lady. She could kill you for that.”
The third voice quails ever so slightly, “Erm, no, you’re right. She could, but she wouldn’t,” until she adds, “Anyway, why am I even giving you the time of day? Ugh, this whole mountain is screwed up. Know your place, trash.”
The second voice responds, “Right, whatever Leezahna. Nobody cares who your parents were. Good luck maintaining your social status in a place like Mount Solace.”
Wait, Leezahna? Crap. The note. Huff, great. Gotta convince that person to tend the shop. Just lovely. She sounds like the type who’d sabotage it so that my reputation couldn’t benefit from it. She also sounds like that lady with the emerald tresses.
Voice number six chuckles and whispers almost conspiratorially, “I heard that our Lady began calling him Schism my love.”
The first voice grumps, “She calls everyone that, what’s that got to do with anything?”
The response from the sixth voice is almost childish, “Nuh uh, she calls everybody my beloved followed by their name or title. Schism is her *luuuuurve*.”
I can almost feel the eyeroll of the third voice that steps in, “I’m sure if our Lady does refer to the gutter trash as anything different than anyone else, it’s to show her distaste, you absolute neanderthals. Disgusting besmirching our Lady so, implying our Lady would have anything less than perfect taste by favoring a disgustingly ugly little troglodytic troll.”
The cracked, reedy, feminine second voice says, “So which is it, does she see The Platinum in Schism, or does she think Schism’s an ugly gutter trash troll? Go shove your head in a hole Leezahna, or better yet, boil it.”
The third voice blusters, and its owner, a figure surrounded by two other figures, stalks away huffily. I’m pretty sure I know who Leezahna is. I’m fairly certain she’s that queen-bee type with the emerald tresses. Am I in an episode of a high school drama from Fakeworld?
The first voice offers, “I agree with her about one thing, he’s an ugly little troll. Maybe a goblin. I mean, half the reason he’s so ugly is that sleepy look of his, always dazed, like he’s not even there, not watching where he’s going. Like he doesn’t even have a brain to turn on. Oh, that and the crying.”
I try not to snort in laughter at the idea that my brain isn’t turned on at basically all times. The reason I look dazed is because I’m distracted devising ways to grow in power, in order to end these stupid apocalyptic scenarios, because no one else is going to step up to the plate besides my inner circle, and the members of the Order. The members of the Order are a bit stagnant in power though, it seems to just be us Can’Z’aasians that can achieve rapid growth.
Voice four that hadn’t spoken in a while, giggles in agreement, “Hehe. Yeah, Schism’s scrawny and pale, and apparently been shirtless or pantsless, or even naked all over the mountain. Isn’t that supposed to be like, tabboo for actual humans? But yeah, seriously! What kinda hero cries?”
The second voice grumbles, “The Platinum did. Cried plenty.”
Voice number four backpedals a bit, “Okay, sure, but that was like, stoic crying over a field of defeated foes, weeping for their souls or some stuff.”
I can virtually feel the eyeroll of the second voice as she responds, “Who’s saying Schism’s crying is any different? Any of us know how many people Schism’s killed? Why are you all hung up on Schism’s looks anyway?”
The fifth voice offers, “He’s not so bad to look at, for a human. Pretty eyes, cute pointy ears. Though, I guess that’s it, maybe the hair, if he’d brush it. I suppose it’s fifty fifty. He could maybe be a five on a good day with less of a mess on his head, I don’t see him being even a six without some sun, some meat on his bones, and more fashion like that one coat.”
I can sense the second voice’s owner rolling their eyes yet again as they respond, “Not a human, not a troll, not a goblin, not even a he. You guys are all kind of pathetic. I’ve heard of hero worship, but I didn’t know the opposite, hero disdain, existed until now. Schism isn’t my cup of tea, but I’m not going to badmouth them to score popularity points with spiteful wenches like Leezahna and her crew.”
The first voice grumps, “I only said I agree with her that he’s ugly, I couldn’t care less what she personally thinks. I still doubt he did all that much in the first battle. Sun, Hunter, Muse, our Lady, and the Vivant were there.”
The eye-rolling in the second voice reoccurs, “You forgot to mention our Tenith. Way I hear it, Schism saved one of the Vivant, and was the only one that could defeat some weird special foe, and took out a contingent of mages in eight minutes when the Vivant couldn’t end them in thirty. Word is the next day, Schism didn’t make it back from their second mission, because they fought off a Damnation so everyone else could get away. They showed up a couple hours later, stronger than ever.”
The fifth voice giggles, “Tehe, you sound so naive. There is no way that that’s true. Nobody comes back from an encounter with a Damnation. Even The Platinum didn’t. Definitely not stronger. Hehe, you’ve got some weird wish fulfillment going on or something. He probably just napped and missed the mission, and was punished for making the Dormir, Shield, and Aegis do all the work, making him fly home alone later. He looks sleepy all the time, always distracted.”
Our one defender, the second voice responds, “He— damnit now I’m doing it. They! Aren’t my favorite person, but they’re powerful, and kind. Go ahead and open your eyes, really, literally, use your dragon senses when you see Schism next time. There’s a reason they’re an archmage on top of all their other titles. They gave me— us, Zayzi and me—,” the second voice, almost assuredly Ixeyla, hesitates to divulge what I’d supposedly given her before finishing, “something, and an offer of something else. They’re forgiving too. So forgiving that they don’t even blink when I threaten to kill them.”
The first voice flubs, “You what?”
The second voice’s owner, probably Ixeyla, right? Flusters, blushing. She then turns and walks away. That had to be, right? Yeah, that must have been Ixeyla. Huh, she was defending me. I’m touched. She doesn’t exactly like me, by her tone, but I guess I have some of her respect, and gratitude. Also, since pretty much only Ixeyla knew I didn’t like being called he, I use my changeling gift to grow a pectoral-ridge like I’ve seen on femme Draconiacs. It’s in the hopes that I’d maybe be able to dissuade further people from assuming I’m male, despite not being female either.
Hopefully Lil is ready for that private bond with Ixeyla sometime when I have some safe S P left in a day, when we’ve got time to get them together. I won’t layer myself permanently into their private bond. I do like her all the more now though. Despite not really having cared about what the other voices thought of me, it was nice of her to defend me.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
A new voice joins the crowd, Atter the Loud, and she’s laughing at the ones that sound like gossiping teenagers, shaking her head. She comments, “I surrendered to *Schism* and no one else in your Order lads and lasses. I’m a titled Thunderer. Take that how you will.”
Shiz must have been near as he quips, “I surrendered too, but for different reasons. Rock dragon broke my jaw, and Schism was being reasonable, offering a ceasefire. My partner was going to attack while we were talking truce, did attack, me ‘n’ Attey took the hit. Then I saw Schism completely obliterate my partner Tinth when he turned on us, in rage for injuring us, us, Schism’s enemies, Schism’s captives.”
Shaking his head, Shiz continues, “Schism did something I’ve never even heard of. Fire and ice as powerful as any fully charged breath attack condensed into a single moment. In a single instant, Tinth, my partner, the ancient blue’s face was blown clear off and body sealed to a wall in a glacier. Most impressive thing? Schism was *frantic* about trying to save our lives. Their enemies’ lives. Schism took away our near-death injuries, took ‘em on with their allies, some magic connecting them to a guy called Sponge. Oh, that’s before we got put into a magic pocket and carried away to safety while apparently a Damnation was closing in.”
Chuckling, Atter conjectures, “We were in the pocket, so couldn’t tell you for sure, but if someone said Schism took down a Damnation, and walked away whistling a tune, feeling even better than before, I’d believe it if I were you.”
I can’t help smiling as I wait around the corner for the two Thunderers to show up. The Thunderers don’t need to clear up rumors about me for me, but it’s endearing. We have to get their clutch to safety immediately. I really shouldn’t step in, but at this point I am feeling kind of full of myself, so I want to at least correct that last bit to play it down a little.
Sliding around the corner from where I’d been sitting the entire time, I chuckle loudly enough that my presence is noted, before correcting, “Well, I took the Damnation *down* but didn’t finish the bugger. His friends arrived and got to him while he was still breathing. They ran off with him. I’m not saying they were scared of me, no, not at all, there was something going on. Like it was more about keeping his dragonforce away from me than anything else. I walked away, but I wasn’t whistling. I was spent. Everything but my most emergency resources. Hey Loud. Hey Shiz. Thanks for standing up for me. You didn’t have to.”
Grinning, trying to stifle a chuckle, Shiz quips, “Yeah but it’s fun seeing the looks on people’s faces when they learn that truth is scarier than the rumors. You figure out a way to get them here safely yet?”
Nodding hesitantly, I query, “Still probably the same idea. Illy gave you the magic pocket to hold onto, right? Do they need a lot of oxygen? We can use the same magic pocket if they’d be fine with the amount of air that’s in there. I wouldn’t dare risk them though if they need to breathe in some way. I do want to get them as soon as possible. I’m worried that the Damnations were in your area. As long as we’re above the Worldstorm as I call it, I’m confident I can get you home safely. If they try to go up incredibly high to reduce the risk of the storm? I’ve got an even better advantage up there. I’m a Void Dragon.”
Shiz begins to say, “About the Damnations, us too—,” but Atter laments, “I know that I’ve said things that—, I understand that you know how important they are to me. Even if they are lost to us, I still surrender, and plead that any of my people you can rescue, you take in. I’ve no right to ask, but if they’re missing, I’d beg you to blaze a trail to find them.”
Tensing up a moment, trying not to let my eyes wet, I nod, “I’d do it. If they’re missing. If I knew which location, I’d set out. Solo if I had to, but the Onyx Dawn are all good people. There’d probably be volunteers. Let’s make haste and hope it doesn’t become an issue.”
As we’re leaving, I hear the fifth voice grumble, “Did Schism look different to anyone else? Maybe they’re a six after all. Well, okay, talking about mounting a solo rescue or something? The badass factor is pretty hot, maybe even a seven.”
I can’t help snorting a laugh. I shake my head as I work at trying to keep my mind on task. Shiz smirks, but Atter’s face remains grim, neutral. I lift all three of us up out of the feasting hall on invisible telekinetic squares. I’m surprised that Revvy, Gresog, and Farzee are already at the aerie, starting work on carefully trying to expand its edges. Revvy’s hauling stone into place from somewhere below, while Greggy and Farzee work together to melt sand into the cracks, below, above, and around new stone blocks, locking it into place. It looks like Farzee might have even been up all night.
Calling out to her telepathically, I ask Farzee, “Are you alright? Have you even slept? I’m grateful to you, and proud of you, but don’t burn yourself out. We need you, our The Blue.”
With a hint of pride, Farzee responds in that delightful accent, “Not slept a wink, sorry Schism, but I’ll make sure to hit the sack early. Won’t even try to find anyone for it. I’ll be exhausted. Revvy and Greggy have been up too, got me in touch with some Sand civvies. Pawn went to bed late, but she’ll still be up sometime mid morning, and she’ll handle routing the other civvie volunteers that you wanted. Thanks for the concern Schism. ‘Preciate it.”
Nodding to her, I wave at Farzee, Gresog, and Revinth, as Atter and Shiz take their draconic forms. It feels good to know that there’re five dragons, six if you count me, up in the pre-dawn hours around five or six am, trying to be hard at work in ways that save lives. The Thunderer siblings take wing westward, angling in the direction of Attraxiaz’s burrows, but they veer slightly with Atter in the lead, towards where there must be a nearby mountain instead, a fair hike from where I’d seen her troops on the surface. It must be at least half a dozen miles away, but still, she was housing a thousand or so kobolds, though no Draconiacs oddly enough, unless I misjudged.
I dare say, the entrance is fairly well hidden, because it’s lined up with the top of the Worldstorm, as if it were a raft floating at just below sea-level. I wonder if Attraxiaz has managed to keep this secret from Terrorzin, or if it was meant to prevent people like us, the Onyx Dawn, from laying siege, or raiding. Somehow I doubt she’s had much lucky keeping more than one big secret from Terrorzin.
I think that, in Atter’s shoes, I’d probably make sure to seem like I was accidentally letting slip my biggest secret at some point, or rather, like I was trying desperately to hide one thing, when in reality I was making a subtler play to hide something more important to me. I’d gladly focus efforts on appearing like I care about the secrecy of say, an extra base entrance or exit, if it meant hiding a clutch of eggs without drawing attention to the fact that I was hiding something else. I’d try to keep like half a dozen fake priorities of what constitutes needing the most secrecy that made it seem like any secret I’d try to keep, that I’d go over the top about.
Either way, when we begin landing in the almost-hidden tunnel structure, the Thunderers flinch as an inordinate amount of lightning worms its way towards the entrance. I’m a bit surprised both at the sudden stream of lightning, and at the surprise the Thunderers show at it, as if they weren’t expecting it. It doesn’t take much of anything for my internal electrokinesis to extend several meters at this point, redirecting the lightning around us entirely. Apparently my new channels in place of my old physical nervous system, and tweaks to my organs that include magnetics and E M Fields let me literally channel my lightning powers biologically.
Having my actual nervous system be located in whatever digital space contains my other organs is working out to be incredibly beneficial. I’m back to my boosted reaction speed from Can’Z’aas. The amount of time it takes for me to react to something is as low as anywhere from five to six or seven percent of the time of an average human, or perhaps an average Changeling Fae. The boost to my basic abilities and passive capabilities by becoming RS2 as a base is incredible. I’m slightly excited to find out the rest of the effects of the changes we’d accomplished last night.
I’ve been sort of wondering about what sort of personal possessions the kobolds and any other residents might have, if there were any non-combatants. I am however reminded that there are no non-combatants in any Terrorzin-allied faction. He mandated all eggs, and basically all living beings, all be remanded to his control and pledge their loyalty to him, and he treats them all as combatant pawns, disposable shock troops, and so on. So it’s not too much of a surprise when Atter leads us through the tunnels, and everything is spartan as hell.
When we get to a deeper area within the burrows, a place that is obviously Attraxiaz’s private den, I realize that Atter’s faction might even be considered poor. Even as the leader, as a titled Thunderer, Loud has little of anything one could call as wealth displayed.
Curious about what we might need to transport, I ask, “Atter, how much help are you going to need transporting materials, belongings, wealth, resources, food, and so on?”
With a sullen look, Atter admits, “Sadly, not much Schism, Reggie. We’d been about to raid on Terrorzin’s orders, forming up to head out the day you invaded ShizTinth in fact, in order to replenish somewhat. Terrorzin’d have been hoping we lost enough forces in the raid to be more manageable for the amount of resources we could bring in, always favoring losing ground-troops without magic. My kinsmen, sent out essentially in the hopes that the non casters would die, it—. It was fortuitous you arrived when you did.”
As she continues to admit things that she knows I have strong feelings about, Atter wears a serious expression, “I’m only slightly ashamed that we would have raided for our survival, not as much as I should be, perhaps. Seeing your sustainability though, I’d be glad to never risk it, or harm another to take what’s theirs, ever again. We’re almost there. Let me just blast this wall. Better yet, Shizzy you do it, low as you could, please brother.”
At her request, Shiz charges a short blast to knock down a well-disguised false-wall. It’s plain to see why Atter had Shiz do it, if she’s a titled Thunderer, and thus her breath is of a higher caliber. The clutch of her eggs is in an incredibly tightly packed alcove just on the other side of a wall. If someone had x-ray vision, they might mistake it for a natural pocket of stone within the wall. I suppose that’s exactly the point. Several of the egg-shaped or oblong objects appear to be rocks, packed in along the eggs. I think there are thirteen of the ovaloid, coarse, grayish objects that are actual eggs.
Commenting mostly to her brother, I think, Atter laments, “Only five, six, maybe seven will be viable even if I’d find a mate as soon as tonight. The folks at Mount Solace seem the type to volunteer, for the chance to save lives, offer chances at life. What about you though Shizzy, you still feeling off about our deal?”
Shiz looks away and grunts before grumbling, “It’s uncouth to speak about such deals in front of uninvolved parties, especially non-dragons.”
There’s a bit of a smirk from Atter as she corrects, “Reggie here’s as much dragon as you or me brother. Might even have been worth approaching about the Conjugation, but apparently doesn’t come equipped with the parts. Not that I’d have expected them to agree, what with already apparently being the mate of the leader of the Onyx Dawn, after having known them for less than a week. Still, what powerful whelps would spawn from such a Conjugation Shizzy? Fun to imagine kids that can take care of themselves inside half a year, a tenth as well as Schism can in that same time.”
There’s a look of distaste across Shiz’s face as he responds, “Alright, alright, enough with the conjecture. Yes, I’d Conjugate, to make sure they had a chance before they all lost viability. I’m sure you’ll find someone in Mount Solace though, so I’d prefer to not hear about the issue again, unless it’s absolutely dire Attey.”
I’ve got a fairly strong feeling that it’d be a pretty good guess to assume the Conjugation is essentially fertilization of eggs. I can see why the siblings would make a deal that such a thing was only a last resort, why the eggs haven’t already been Conjugated, and so on. Still, it’s a shame that apparently already half are likely to have lost viability.
We unfold the portable hole, and begin quickly loading the eggs carefully into it, as well as the few meager possessions belonging to Atter. I also find myself blushing about the fact that I’m already coming to be known as Kinzul’s mate, despite, like Attey said, me having only been with the Order for less than a week. It has really only been what, five, six, maybe seven days since Kinzul had found us and brought us into the Order?
Still, I also suggest we should snag as much glow-lichen and glow-moss to pack in with the eggs as possible. I know the pocket dimension itself doesn’t really shake around, but better safe than sorry, and some extra oxygen and warmth couldn’t hurt. I want us to protect every life that we can.
It’s time for Atter to begin organizing her people, now that we’ve got the eggs. She should be able to take care of herself for the couple of hours it’ll take for Shiz and I to get to Mount Solace, set these in a safe location amongst the Order members, and head back with the beginnings of the volunteer train. Hopefully things go smoothly, but I’m already expecting a combat today.
I’m hoping that any combat that might happen is not all seven Damnations, but there’s a fair chance that it could be the six uninjured ones at least. I’d really rather it not be any of them, but right now? Right now I’m more powerful than I was yesterday, with less limitations, and I’ve got all of my resources, and new resources that Kinzul and my inner circle helped invent last night basically. I might be able to take out a Damnation or two, without needing to abuse the Worldstorm, maybe, but at least with the help of the Worldstorm, I should be able to take out at least one. Maybe. Right?