Cassandra Pendragon
We didn’t dawdle much longer. A short discussion broke out when Viyara offered to carry us on her back, she’d be much faster at navigating the lair in her dragon form. I was all for it but Barzuk insisted that it would sully her dignity, transporting others like a common mule. Viyara’s temper was rising again when I decided to put a stop to their argument. I blinked onto her back and pulled Barzuk up with a couple of my wings. I placed him in front of me and ignored his yammering:
“We can worry about appearances later when we don’t have a crater full of enemies at our door. Until then I don’t want to hear another word about how she should behave.” I applied just enough pressure to emphasise my point before I retracted my wings. “Did I make myself clear?” Barzuk grumbled under his breath but he didn’t object loudly and with a smug roar from Viyara we were off in a trice. Riding her felt strange, her arms and legs were too short to run at speed and she had to support them with slithering motions of her whole body. It was a rather comfortable way to travel, her back remained steady and only swayed from left to right smoothly. I didn’t have to try terrible hard to keep my seat even though I had never ridden before but the constant shifting of her coils around us took some getting used to. We were surprisingly fast, the wind from our passage ruffled my hair and blew Barzuk’s ponytail across his chest.
The sights along the way were marvellous and for the first time I could truly appreciate that I was in a dragon’s lair. Despite our dire circumstances I felt a rush of excitement while I took in everything around me with wide eyes. My sense of direction was completely confused under ground so I had no real way of knowing where we actually were. Additionally I didn’t have the foggiest idea where the portal we had passed through might have taken us. We glided through the left tunnel from where we had appeared, marble and gold giving way to dark granite interlaced with veins of all kinds of metals, gold, silver, astralite and some I hadn’t seen or heard of before. I saw green and pink streaks, ores that appeared nearly crystalline with ruby red or sapphire blue shimmers and I was sure I had even seen a dribble of mercury in passing, running down one of the walls. In regular intervals, huge druses appeared along the ceiling, filled with rubies and citrines, a giant amber glowed brightly in the centre, its light reflected and strengthened by the gems around it. Soft golden red light filled the corridor and made me feel like I was flying through a fairytale. A lava or magma channel, I wasn’t sure which since we were still underground but the stuff wasn’t driven by tectonic forces anymore, ran along the right side of the tunnel, partly carved into the wall. A long string of runes covered the edges of the channel, most of them active and probably powered by the stream of molten rock but the most intricate ones which appeared every few meters and showed the same sigil over and over again were dull and lifeless.
Curiously I glanced around and searched for other signs of magic and with a little bit of energy sent to my eyes I found them. The gems in the druses above were all subtly carved, delicate lines crisscrossing them where the light from the amber wouldn’t reach. I was by no means an expert but the craftsmanship alone told me how much effort had gone into designing and applying them. But yet again, they didn’t seem active, the groves and trenches within the crystals void of energy. Carefully I conjured my second sight and studied the different formations again. While most of the runes along the channel were blazing with light, the others were indeed dormant. I saw a spark of energy lingering, ready to blaze into life but a vital part seemed to be missing, there was no purpose, no will behind them. If I had had to guess I’d would have said those weren’t runes but anchors for complex enchantments that were tied to the fey, Erya. As long as she was sealed, they wouldn’t work.
Viyara’s thoughts broke me from my reverie:
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I dropped my silvery vision and focused on her mind, wondering how her telepathy actually worked and if she had gotten a glimpse of my thoughts.
“Extremely, I haven’t seen something comparable before. The light, the colours, it’s truly magical. I don’t even recognise half of the metals we have come by.”
“That’s no surprise, quite a few of them should be unique. Same goes for the gems, the ones you see around here are artificial but the ones growing naturally are something else. They shine with an inner light in all colours you can imagine. Just wait, you’ll see them soon.” I padded her hide affectionately.
“Can’t wait. But before we get there, can you tell me why? I know that most islands have some unique resource or the other but I have never heard of so many in one place. How come this volcano is chock full of them?” I felt Viyara’s ribs press against her scales as she puffed out her chest proudly.
“Every lair turns out like this sooner or later. Dragons are constantly emitting magic, sometimes more, sometimes less. Each beat of our hearts sends minuscule waves of life force into the world, we exhale mana and from time to time even our soul emits a pulse power. At birth for example or when we fall in love… when we die.” She added morosely. I continued to stroke her side while she regained her composure. “Anyway, over time our surroundings absorb more and more magic and they start to transform. My father lived here for more than 2000 years, well before the cataclysm, with several draconic wives. Most materials within the lair have been saturated to the brink and then some. Often the change isn’t obvious, but you’d be surprised at how sturdy the rock deeper down can be or at the healing properties of some of the thermal springs close to the hoard. Precious metals, gems and living beings are another matter though. I don’t know why, maybe they are more attuned to magic or maybe it’s the fact that we actually care for those things, but they always end up very different. One of my mothers even told me a story about how most humanoid chimaeras, you know, beast kin, are descendants of humans changed that way.”
“Even kitsune?” I had to ask. I didn’t know much about my people, most of our history was lost during the cataclysm and the few fragments I did know about didn’t contradict her.
Her head bobbed up and down in front of me: “According to my mother, probably. But I don’t know anything about your race, today is the first time I have seen one of the fox tribe after all. If you could tell me a little about your people I could maybe give you a hint.”
“Sure, but I’m afraid there isn’t much to tell. Most of our knowledge was lost when our capital was destroyed during the cataclysm.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“You misunderstand. What are you like? Do you have any common traits? If you really were transformed that way some of the dragon’s characteristics would break through.”
“Oh, right. Let’s see… all of us can use mana but we only have very few life force casters and practically not a single soul mage. We are…,” I blushed and was quite glad Viyara couldn’t see my face, “well, we are said to be extremely beautiful and we don’t age. I’m probably going to look like this for the next couple of centuries. I’m taller than most kitsune, even the males, we aren’t as sturdy as humans and don’t reach the hight of elves. Our tails appear over time, normally a new one sprouts whenever we understand something fundamental about ourselves or the world we live in and our abilities skyrocket every time. As far as I know a kitsune can have up to nine tails but I have never met anyone who even claimed to have met a nine-tailed fox. We have a thing for trees, cherry trees in particular but that could also be a cultural bias, I’m not really sure. Like most races, I guess, we appreciate art, wisdom, beauty, kindness… the usual. We aren’t particularly greedy or fond of wealth but we definitely value finely crafted jewellery or precious gems.”
I was paraphrasing, our conversation consisted of memories I conjured and shared with her, not actual words. Viyara’s soaked up every detail and relished in some of the scenes from Boseiju I shared with her. I could feel the storm front in her mind recede bit by bit while I took her for a stroll along my favourite glades which I still remembered in vibrant colours. I could even conjure the smell of cherries and thyme that had always calmed me down. While she strolled through my home I focused back on my surroundings with half my mind when the walls and ceiling suddenly receded and we entered another cavern. My mouth hung open in amazement and I couldn’t sustain the images any longer, completely enthralled by the sight before me.
I had thought the chamber we had arrived in had been huge but now I knew better. We had entered a cathedral fit for a gathering of dragons. Immense pillars of marble rose every 20 meters from the ground, reaching up to the far ceiling. Streaks of gold formed complex formations on their surface but the enchantments again lacked the lustre of magic. Far above us a mosaic of sapphires and moon stones gave the illusion of an open, starlit sky. The walls were covered in druses, each one housing a single gem. They were a deep blue colour but they shone with a pulsing, reddish light that reflected off of the pillars and illuminated the cavern with rays of colour. Each gem stood taller than me and when I looked closer I could see different veins of metal running through each of them. Their placement and orientation seemed intentional but I couldn’t figure out the shape they formed.
The centre of the cavern fell away to from a yawning hole, maybe 100 meters in diameter and 200 meters away from us. Flickering red light danced over the rim and swaths of heated air brushed across my face, carrying with them the smell of molten rock and burning air. The circular edge of pit was covered in a single sheet of silver, arcane symbols, inlaid with different gems, etched into it tightly enough to form a waterfall of oscillating light. A low rumbling sound reached my ears as if boulders were clashing against one another deep below and I could feel faint vibrations in the air that made my tails itch.
“Welcome to the Great Hall, Cassandra. Only a few outsiders have ever had the chance to see it.” Barzuk’s deep voice felt tiny in the gargantuan space. I had to take a moment to collect my thoughts before I replied with barely more than a reverent whisper:
“Breathtaking. I feel like an ant in a treasury. What is this place?” Viyara’s thoughts curled around my own with the impression of a smug smile:
“You’re no ant but I know what you mean. This is the central cavern of the lair, the hoard is just beneath. It’s a throne room, if you will. Every time my father wanted to impress, be it the few instances when another dragon visited or for one festivity or the other we would gather here.” She slithered across the polished floor and peered into the pit. “Look, my father’s pride.” Without warning she slipped over the edge, the ruff in front of me caught the air and we soared into a world of fire and light. My stomach churned, I reflexively unfurled my wings to keep my balance and slung a couple around Barzuk’s waist for good measure.
We were near the ceiling of a dome, maybe a kilometre in hight and 2 across. The circular walls consisted of cracked geodes, gems of all colours blinking at us from within. Some were larger than a barn while others were just as small as my pinky but not two of them shone with the same light. While I was watching, some of them even changed, purple became azure, emerald rays turned a deep yellow. The rumbling sound I had heard was much more pronounced, as if we had entered the body of a gigantic beast and would listen to its breath. Magic hung heavy in the air, swirling and dancing it made my fur stand on edge and my wings tingled with energy.
Halfway towards the bottom, five mighty streams of magma broke through the walls, each of them as wide as a river they thundered downwards at an angle, their momentum catapulted them far towards the centre. Where they slammed into the sea of molten rock that made up the floor, fountains of sparks and flames shot into the air for tens of meters. Dead in the centre of the sea of fire a single island rose from relatively calm floods of magma. On a dais of white marble, at least 100 meters across and 50 above the magma, an inexpressible amount of wealth glittered in the light.
Mountains of gold, hills of silver and heaps of jewels were carelessly scattered around. Armours and weapons, most of them made for humanoids but others clearly intended to be used as a tail weapon by dragons, stood side by side with ancient tomes, some of which were carved on sheets of crystal with pages twice as wide as Barzuk. I saw vials, filled with luminous liquids and huge gems that enclosed different kinds of plants. Powerful artefacts hummed with their own power alongside bars of precious metals, stacked together by the dozens. Flying stones hovered over the dais, each of them loaded heavily with further riches.
From up high I could see the imprint of a dragon’s body where Viyara’s father had rested on his hoard. He had been coiled around a pillar of gold in the middle of the island. A colossal ruby, carved into a cabochon with a diameter of at least 5 meters sat atop. A faint glow shimmered through its surface but I was too far away to make out any details.
Surprisingly the temperature was tolerable. The air was hot, dry and had a sulphuric taste to it but I wasn’t choking, nor were the tips of my hair smoking. I was in a much better condition than I should be this close to a sea of molten rock. Viyara didn’t appear troubled or strained while she gently arched downwards and rode the currents of hot air. I didn’t expect to be distracting her when I gently brushed against her thoughts:
“Why are we, or rather Barzuk and me not burning up? This close to a sea of magma we shouldn’t be able to survive. Are you casting a spell on us or is the magic of this place?”
“It’s the place, in a way. You see the large ruby down there? That’s Erya’s prison. It’s supplying the magic for most of the lair, an absurd amount. One of the most ingenious set of runes is carved into the stone beneath the sea and into every gem along the walls. The runes constantly convert thermal and kinetic energy into different forms of magic and channel them into the ruby. It’s the only way to sustain all the enchantments which were usually active. Since most of them are dormant right now the magic accumulates here. You can even smell it in the air.”
“Uhh… doesn’t that mean that the fey down there has access to all the energy this place can provide? And she has been enslaved for I don’t know how long? Won’t she just try to kill us if you set her free?”
“Fey are bound by their words, literally. I’m not going to let her out without some form of reassurance but they are devious by nature. If she manages to trick me we’ll be in a whole new world of trouble.”