CHAPTER 197
Tom smirked as everyone else started picking themselves up from the ground. In the end, the free fate he released with every dodge had been the difference. One on one or one versus seven it didn’t matter once the fight had been going for more than a minute. “All bow before your great and mighty ruler.” Tom quipped.
“You’re not invulnerable,” Everlyn told him quietly. “You’re a cockroach that gains a level every time the enemy fails to kill you.” She laughed. “At least on the battlefield, which makes you vulnerable. I’ve squished plenty of roaches on a first attempt.”
“I know.” He looked down at the ugly liquid sticking to his clothes and used his clean spell. It removed maybe a tenth of the accumulated gunk. It was going to take a while before he was cleansed. “The tyranny of rank still applies.”
“And that dodge skill might be overpowered now, but when you are fighting in the big league and your ability doesn’t have precognition…”
“I know, Everlyn. We all know my limitations, our vulnerability. Humans are weak. Eventually we won’t be, but for the time being we need to accept our place in the world. If I go out there, I’ll be overwhelmed and dead within a minute.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Tom. I was just making sure you weren’t getting ahead of yourself. Seven versus one might give someone the wrong impression. Let their ego get ahead of their skills.”
“The kobolds reminded me of my place. A burst of early offensive fate is deadly to my build. Anything whose purpose is wanton slaughter is kryptonite to me at the moment.”
“To all of us when they outrank us.” Harry interjected.
Tom applied another clean, and it felt like it had made no impact. “I’m so sick of sitting here.”
“We all are,” Everlyn said. She looked sad and retreated to the girl’s corner, which Clare had not moved from. Though Tom saw how Everlyn sat deliberately with her back to the other woman. She might have thawed slightly over Sven’s death, but she was not friendly to them yet.
Rahmat settled next to him. “That was a good spar.”
“It was.”
“Would it be out of place if I asked you a question?”
“Depends on the question.”
The warrior held a small trinket. It was a privacy bubble, there was a flash of magic, and it activated.
“Suspicious.”
Rahmat shrugged. “I use it all the time. Everyone else is used to it.”
Tom checked, and no one was paying them any attention and he guessed in these close quarters, being able to have a private conversation was treasured and the attempts respected. “So, what’s your question?”
“The way you spoke when you realised Sven was gone… what was that about?”
Tom looked at the other man, alarmed, while trying to recall what he had said. “I wanted the full story.”
“And if I asked if there was more, would you answer?”
Tom froze, not sure what to say. If he lied, would it be noticed?
Rahmat’s lips curled up. “I see. No need to answer that then. I thought as much.” He paused for a moment and Tom saw he was studying Keikain. “My understanding was that the contract you put in place provided assurance.”
The other man had not been part of the process and so did not have access to the details like Tom, but with an effort of will he sent the contract across. As the owner, unlike everyone else, he had the flexibility to share it with third parties.
A full minute passed. Rahmat shifted uneasily. “Hm. I guess that wording gives me peace of mind. Your definition of what it means to be human.”
“Yeah it was a mistake.”
Rahmat quietly started to clean his main spear. “I wouldn’t want to be either of those two, though. It’s going to be a hard few years worrying the whole time that my only ally might turn against me at any moment.”
“I don’t care. They can rot in hell.”
“You liked Sven more than the others?”
“Didn’t you?”
“True,” Rahmat snorted. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you decision. The weight you’ve taken on is immense and I admire you for accepting it. I always felt you were more impulsive than that. This shows real maturity.”
“I almost killed him when I realised.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Now. I’m going to use him. If we need bait, he is it. If we need someone to clean the latrines with their own toothbrush, he’s the man.”
Rahmat chuckled. “How about her? How do you know she is not the ringleader?”
“Same deal.” Tom said quietly. “I’m not going to differentiate between them.”
They sat next to each other in silence not saying anything beyond the occasional comment about the evolving war happening outside the entrance that was displayed by the ritual. While they sat, Tom used Clean regularly and the putrid mess from landing in the kobolds vanished. The privacy screen faded, and he patted himself down.
He was clean.
Tom yawned extravagantly. He had research to do, so he left his spot next to Rahmat and laid down on his bedroll and focused on sleeping and finding out what the dragon’s weaknesses were.
Promptly, Tom found himself in a True Dream.
He was occupying the mind of the dragon. He knew it instantly just by the complete an utter sense of superiority that filled every one of her movements and minor thoughts. However, something was off. The body felt different from the previous times. Tom was immediately on alert. Placing the person he was in, the place and time, was vital for interpreting the validity of these dreams. If something had changed, trying to figure out what that was, had to be his primary focus.
She was flying, and the landscape was one he had never seen before. It was some sort of hilly jungle, with lots of unpleasant purples and lilacs. The surroundings were not as important as what else he felt. While the mind had the same arrogance and disdain for everything else, it felt less sure of itself and the body it existed in seemed weaker. It would be incapable of fighting like it had in previous visions because the raw power was not present.
Young, Tom realised to his surprise. The older dragon was jaded. It saw everything through a smog of contempt, of boredom, but this version did not possess that overlay. It observed the surrounding universe with interest and a desire to learn.
She breathed in deeply and did a lazy flip in the air. There was a thrill of pleasure at the uninhibited movement and then she shot up high and on the far horizon she finally spotted her target.
Three of them.
All of them from the same brood.
Her teacher at the academy might be shielded by his position, but his descendants certainly were not.
What was coming was not a fair fight. The trio were far stronger than she was, but they were naïve, protected, sheltered, stupid. They thought the world was honourable. That the rules of engagement, the trapping of civilisation applied even here, where there were no witnesses.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
They were alone and living in their idealised bubble without understanding what life truly was. A few strong flaps of her wings and she glided down, putting herself on an intercept course. It was a slow, boring chase, but they were stronger, so she couldn’t afford for them to get their guard up. She had to pretend to be harmless.
Eventually, she drew alongside them and concentrated on the impression she was projecting. She maintained the attitude. All of her lines were neutral. Her tail was carefree and sinuous through the air, not a single scale rising. They were all flat like they would be on a dragon doing a joy flight in a culled area. Nothing in her demeanour suggested battle readiness.
The three dragons, of course, had noted her long before she got within breath range let alone as close as she was now where a mistimed flap would cause a collision. They had not been subtle in their examination, almost rude… she could easily take offense and kill them for that.
Internally, she laughed even as she continued to draw closer.
All they picked up was what she had wanted them to see. The lighthearted casual movements that showed a dragon not on the hunt but enjoying a leisurely flight.
They matched her posture.
Well, not all three of them. She knew their names because she had researched her target. Zalcrocag remained partially on alert. Several scales had popped up in partial battle readiness. Maybe she had been recognised, the dragon thought. That would be gratifying, extremely pleasing if her reputation had spread this far.
Or potentially, Zalcrocag wasn’t as naïve as the other two dragons. It didn’t matter she would need to be struck first.
A lazy flap of her wings had a drift right over Zalcrocag’s back. The younger dragon, admittedly only by a couple of seasons, was watching her and it was amusing to see additional scales began to lift up, even the fine flight ones on her wings used in battle manoeuvres were activating.
The other dragon was transitioning to battle readiness, but it was too late. Zalcrocag was perfectly positioned and there was no escape especially as she wasn’t even thinking of protecting herself against a mortal blow. She might have realised that the fight was coming, but her opponent still thought that rules existed. She didn’t comprehend that this fight could be to the death.
Before preparation could become action, a sharp feeling of glee went through the dragon’s mind.
This was living.
To take a life.
To kill and know the other didn’t understand. That was power. That thrill of polluting their final moments with confusion and the opportunity was….
Now.
She dived, dipping to close the three metres separating them and bringing the other dragon into range. She struck out with her primary arm, pumping energy through it to make it heavier and move it faster. There was no choice of targets. There was only one spot she could hit to kill a dragon quickly, so she aimed for it. The carotid joint, two-thirds down the neck, the one spot where the natural armour of the dragon was incomplete.
With a burst of pleasure, she felt and heard the crack as her claw connected. The neck depressed, the bone moved and she could imagine internally the artery being crushed.
Zalcrocag instinctively dived to avoid further attacks, but no more was necessary. Fifty seconds of life was all the other dragon had. That was enough time for her to realise that she was going to die and to try to fail to understand why.
It was glorious.
As she plunged down and away, Zalcrocag squawked in warning.
Daughter of a festering anus, the dragon he was in thought in annoyance. If the others listened, that alarm might make them fight harder. She might get hurt! Momentarily, her anger flared brighter, then her customary calmness reinstated itself. If they hurt her, she would get revenge on their sister broods.
However, that apparently was not going to be necessary because the other two targets were still in holiday mode.
A simple sweep of her wings repositioned herself above the middle dragon. She could see Zalcrocag had transitioned to full battle posture… too late, of course, to threaten her. But if they all tried to fight back, it could cause things to be interesting for a bit. But first, she had to seize the full advantage.
The same thrill washed through her. It was the best feeling ever.
Her claw lashed out, targeting the same spot on the new dragon. She felt the bone give way, the click as the artery got crushed.
The exquisite cry of alarm, despair and horror that the dragon released when it realised that it had been ambushed. He dived as well, not to re-position to attack like Zalcrocag but to escape… but it was too late for him.
He would, of course realise and come for her, but she only had to survive a minute of one versus three and then the other two would fall and she could take her time with the third. The task was done. Laughing in joy, she flew upwards, trusting her slightly larger size to give her the speed to stay out of reach of their grasping talons while she out lasted the dying ones. They would perish not knowing why they had been killed and even better, despite seeing her and having her so close they would fail to land a single blow in retaliation.
Their ancestors would turn in their graves in embarrassment.
It was delicious.
They would chase her, the first two would die. The last she would play with and mutilate extra personally, then she would dispose of the bodies. She would never take credit for this, but the professor would know and the stories would spread. Next time, he would bow to her and give her the full respect she deserved. Everyone would learn when dealing with her, too. Give the maximum and not the minimum that the protocols required.
Or she would use it as an excuse to have a bit of fun.
The dream ended and like he often did after sharing that mindset Tom felt like vomiting. There was context he picked up without active thoughts to explain it. The slight had been minor. The professor had given her the allegiance of a minor lord to a higher lord as opposed to a professor to a higher lord. Either was technically correct, and the difference was no more than half a second and a few inches of extra lowering.
It wasn’t even a slight as such it was just that the professor had used his higher external station as a base for calculations rather than only the school version.
However, to her that had been a sufficient reason to murder three innocent and unaware younger dragons.
It was how the species worked but in another way not… Tom got the sense that she was extreme even amongst the bloodthirsty race.
Not that it mattered. That had not been the purpose of the dream. Tom now knew their weaknesses. A single blow to a spot two-thirds down the neck would crush an artery. Mentally, Tom made a point of remembering the exact moves the dragon had enacted before she had struck. He focused on the strength and angles and engraved the knowledge into his mind so it would never be forgotten. He now knew how to kill the dragon.
With a sense of triumph, he slipped into a more standard sleeping pattern.
Tom, when he awoke was not in the mood to talk to anyone. The first thing he saw was the others huddled around Keikain. They had been celebrating the fact that he had done something to deal with the corpses.
It made him angry, and he threw himself into training. Midway through, Rahmat had stood up and offered a spar, but Tom had waved him away. He didn’t want to practice against people instead he was happy to train his new teleport skill and incorporate it into his every single movement, while he worked through his emotions and how he could start punishing Keikain and Clare without anyone noticing.
Three hours later he collapsed his legs like noodles and his arms feeling like jelly.
“Tom.” Michael said, coming right up to him and touching him on the forehead. Magic flowed into him and the build-up of exhaustion that even his Touch Heal hadn’t been able to push away vanished.
“My god you’re pushing yourself. What happened? Was it a dream?”
“No, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“This is about Sven isn’t it.”
“No, it’s not. Not directly.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t wake you. It was Sven’s last wish and I couldn’t bring myself to do anything.”
“I’m not blaming you. Michael.” Tom kept his eyes fixed firmly on ground and refused to look at the earth mage. Despite what he knew, he would not get Michael involved. Just like confessing the problem to Everlyn, confiding in the healer would cause issues.
If he was going to use them effectively, Tom needed the team to function as a collective. Rahmat knowing the truth was already a problem, and he didn’t want to create anymore points of potential failure. Especially now the internal cohesion seemed to be improving. There was something about Sven dying to protect the group that seemed to have brought the killers back into the fold. It should have gone the other way, but Tom guessed if everyone thought the behaviour had been noble that would put a different spin on things. Even Everlyn appeared less hostile towards them, which was ridiculous. If he told her the truth, he knew she would kill Keikain and Clare with the risk of contract backlash or not.
That was why he had to bite his tongue and had channelled his fury into physical exercise rather than to risk exposing the killers and creating more friction.
“I don’t want to sound needy, but it certainly feels like you are blaming us.”
“Not your fault. Not any human’s fault. It doesn’t matter.”
“So, it was a dream.”
“No… not a dream… its just that Sven dying shook me.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a dream because if it was we can discuss it.”
“No! It wasn’t a dream! Because the latest one worked. I finally know how to kill the dragon.”
“Really? How?”
“That’s great news,” Harry said from across the room. “What’s the weakness?”
Tom tapped his neck and then explained to them all the complexity of landing the killing blow. The need for it to come from the right angle and that the dragon would be aware of the risk and wouldn’t willingly expose the spot.
“Sounds as complicated as blowing up the death Star.”
“Well, Luke had the force. We have fate.” Tom quipped. “Seems as plausible.”
“Real life versus movie,” Harry said.
“Well, that’s true.”
“Plus none of us are strong enough to do what you just recounted.” Everlyn pointed out.
“I know…” Tom massaged his head. “I just have to have faith that a solution will present itself.”
Everlyn shook her head angrily. “Faith? What’s happened to you? Tom?”
“Not just faith. Before we go in. I’ll use an Oracle question. I’m getting twice as many now and we won’t be blind. If we can’t win, we won’t go.”
“After that.” Everlyn shoved a finger in Keikain’s direction. “Do we really still trust the oracle questions?”
Tom thought for a moment about that question. Then looked at the killers. Remembered everything they had done.
“We can workshop a joint question,” Michael suggested. “The oracle questions worked. It was just if you asked the wrong thing you would draw incorrect conclusions.”
“We’ll work shop them.” Tom promised. He knew he was going into that portal, but at least this way they had a chance of surviving it and if he had to waste a question to get the others on board. Then he would even if he already knew what the answer was going to be.