The day the stars changed is only rarely mentioned in the histories of the calamities. I remember it clearly, the uncertainty and confusion. The guiding stars missing, foreign constellations replacing our own familiar ones. The sun itself rising a little differently, the seas turbulent and weather unpredictable.
Of course, at the time, we were occupied with other matters. But now, looking back, it is still generally dismissed as merely another side effect of the Calamity of Advent. Yet I cannot help but wonder: what if it is the other way around?
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Chapter Two
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Valthurian didn’t need to wait as long as he’d expected.
Within a few days, that human returned. The one with the pickaxe, who’d been trying to steal him away from his lair.
For a moment, he wondered if it might be better to allow it. The human would surely carry him away to a city, where he could pass many other humans and take their gold. But he couldn’t be sure his influence would work anywhere away from his mountain. And he was loath to entrust any part of his fate to humanity that he didn’t have to.
He formed a bowl in the pillar, shifted the window so a single shaft of light would illuminate his beautiful statue, and waited.
The human approached slowly, cautiously. Valthurian barely resisted the desire to consume all the gold the man carried, but he wanted to try this fairly first. If he could establish a relationship with the humans rather than scaring them off, this could work.
Besides, if it went badly, he could easily snatch the gold long before the slow creature escaped his mountain.
He still didn’t have a plan for how to pretend he had granted a human wish. It seemed the sort of thing their legends loved, but all he had to use was stone, a few bones, and whatever trace metals he could scavenge from the mountain beneath him.
The human stopped short when he reached the cavern entrance, staring in awe. “It’s changed! It really has.”
He scurried forward, then hesitated, then advanced again.
He looked into the bowl, then frowned up at the dragon head.
Valthurian wished he’d thought to put instructions on the pillar. Maybe this was too confusing for a human.
“Is it true this place can grant wishes now?” the human whispered, as though afraid of being overheard.
Yes. Valthurian needed to write the word.
It took long minutes, but though the human jumped as the first stone shifted, it stared in rapt awe through the entire process. Valthurian smiled inwardly. It was working!
“Then I wish for the power to reach max level and show Alissa how worthy I am!”
Valthurian sighed. First, that was a stupid and senseless wish, and second he hadn’t even offered any gold.
Gold first.
The human jumped, stared, then nodded. “Of course, wishing dragon. I’m sorry.”
He placed a single small gold coin in the bowl, then grinned eagerly up at the statue.
The gold dissolved, granting Valthurian only a single day’s worth of sustenance.
He couldn’t quite bring to mind how to spell out ‘This is insufficient to grant such a huge wish,’ and instead settled for MORE.
“More? But I’m just a cab driver, I don’t make enough to afford even this.”
Hah! Then what are you doing exploring dragon caves? You were in here before, when it still said it was cursed! You’re either a fool, a liar, or both.
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But he didn’t say any of that. Instead, he just made the word MORE a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder.
“Fine, stingy wishing dragon.”
Stingy human, more like.
As the human slowly counted out one coin at a time, looking up for approval between each, before reluctantly adding another, Valthurian contemplated his current conundrum.
What could he create that could, theoretically, count as granting this stupid wish?
Armor perhaps. Humans liked to pretend they had scales. But made of stone? Not likely. It would crumble and shatter far too easily.
Maybe he should just kill the human, take the gold, and have done with it. He quietly closed off the entrance hall, just in case. No reason not to trap the fool here for the moment.
He withdrew the writing, absorbed the gold - eight days worth now, nearly all the human had brought - and shifted the pillar back to leave an open space.
The human backed away, fearful and eager in equal measure.
To advance your level you must perform great deeds. I cannot do them for you. But I can give you this.
It took nearly an hour to write out. During which the human lost his fear, and then his eagerness, and then his patience. But the entrance was sealed, which caused the human’s fear to increase when he noticed, then resignation followed, and then he sat quietly muttering to himself while waiting for the words to appear.
The item itself was easier. Gold wasn’t the only metal beneath his mountain, and Valthurian had seen enough treasure in his uncounted centuries to know what humans liked. So he crafted a sword, dragon bone for the handle and core, curved and sharp iron with bronze inlays. He created it in a compartment beneath the floor, adjusting it between letters, until it was perfect. It used most of his iron and all of his bronze, but he hoped that if the human was pleased he would return with others.
As the last letter formed, he pushed the compartment upward and parted the stone above it, so the finished blade shone in the evening sunlight.
The human gasped, then ran forward and seized the sword. He read the message, then nodded and bowed. “Thank you, wishing dragon! I will prove myself!”
Valthurian unsealed the exit, and the human ran off.
Well, that was eventful. Now to see if anything came of it.
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Valthurian Goldenflame had in the past month received two more ‘levelup’ points which he could assign to any of the gibberish words which defined him, though he had yet to use any. He spent some time meditating on each of the words, but whatever meaning they held eluded him. He remained convinced that the final word indicated these points.
He spent more time studying the deep workings of his mountain, and discovered ways to shift the mineral composition to extract the smallest hints of metal. This occupied him for weeks, during which he only infrequently remembered that he’d set himself up as a wish-granter and given a sword to a human in return for eight days of gold.
He collected together his iron, found more bronze, rooted out quartz crystals which lay hidden far below. He sorted shale and granite and obsidian, ornamenting his lair with an array of minerals to please his aesthetic sensibilities.
And he waited. He had sent a message to the humans. He had laid out a message for his fellow dragons. Until one or the other of them replied, there was little he could do.
He practiced shifting minerals from one form to another, but there was only so much he could do. He could not create gold from shale, and gold was the only thing that interested him.
Valthurian was patient, but he also knew that he lived on a countdown. Every day, another unit of precious gold was consumed. If he ran out before his messages were received, he would be lost.
The human didn’t return.
Dragons did not suddenly begin flying overhead.
But someone else did arrive. Twenty-three days after the human’s visit, another creature slipped silently into Valthurian’s tunnels. He noticed it at once. There was no stealth that could evade him, he felt his mountain as fully and intimately as his own scales and claws. He had even begun to gradually shape the walls into patterns like scales, both because it was more beautiful and because it gave him something to do.
So when the kobold entered his tunnels, Valthurian immediately gave the creature his full attention.
First, he closed the entrance behind it as soon as it was out of sight.
Then, using the reshaping skills he’d spent the past month practicing, he quickly wrote out a message in his central chamber.
I need gold. If you can help me obtain it, I will reward you greatly.
The kobold didn’t even look at the writing, but walked to the center of the chamber, then knelt and pressed his head and tail to the floor in obeisance.
“Great sleeping one, this servant has been sent to you by the Regal Jade Mystery, Alasarnim Glimmerscale. What desires can this servant answer?”
Valthurian hastily erased the earlier message, then contemplated his new servant. Kobolds and dragons had worked together for centuries, with kobolds also serving as tasty snacks if they got out of line. This particular specimin was male, wearing a crude set of armor with a green streak painted down the center of the chestplate.
The kobold couldn't be more than a few years old, barely adult. But Valthurian didn't fault Alasarnim for the choice. Messengers did tend to be eaten more regularly than others, after all.
He would have preferred an army, or at least some gold, but this was a start. Now he just needed to decide on the best way to turn a single kobold into a system for obtaining gold.
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