“Hold tight, Kaln.”
“I see her.”
That was one inaccuracy per sentence; he actually couldn’t see her as such, but he was keenly aware of the presence of another dragon homing in on them with focused intent. It was by the same suite of dragon-related powers that he was affixed firmly to Izayaroa’s back, obviating the need to actually hold on—which was good, as she was simply too large and overall smooth for there to be anything he could grip.
The mountain reared up before them, the huge Timekeeper doorway aglow in the falling dusk with its inset Timeglass decorations. All around, the peaks were stained orange and crimson by the setting sun, and the forest in the valley below was already lost to shadow. Whatever complaints he might have had, Kaln could not deny that his strange new life kept showing him new vistas of incredible beauty.
And then Vadaralshi came plummeting out of the cloud bank directly overhead, diving right at them with her wings folded back and all four talons extended. He couldn’t even guess what she was trying to accomplish; he could sense her intent as clearly as her presence, and it was pure high-spirited mischief, as when she’d buzzed him and Emeralaphine previously. Presumably she didn’t think she could actually land a hit on Izayaroa. She had to know what the consequences of that would be.
Fortunately, this proved to be the case. The much larger black dragon effortlessly flipped into a barrel roll, managing to swoop adroitly around Vadaralshi in the split-second she was passing through the space where they had been. The green snapped her wings out, attempting to check her descent, but having repositioned herself directly above, Izayaroa pumped her own wings in a powerful blow augmented by magic.
This, of course, sent her and Kaln shooting skyward, but also slammed a wall of pure kinetic force straight down at Vadaralshi. The younger dragon emitted a strangled squawk as she was smacked right out of the sky and plunged into the forest below.
It was enough of a distance that seconds passed before Kaln distantly heard the heavy impact, complete with supplementary sounds of crunched trees and the shrieking of displaced birds.
“You guys don’t play gently, do you?” he asked aloud as Izayaroa banked, spiraling downward toward the landing outside the lair.
She snorted derisively. “I assure you, husband, that was gentle. If I reprimanded the brat hard enough to actually dissuade her, it would cause undesirable tension with her mother. Emeralaphine is in the same boat. Life around here became substantially more annoying the day Vadaralshi figured that out.”
They alit on the platform, her landing so skillful he barely felt the vibration. There she paused, tilting her head to study the door before entering. Kaln had to crane his neck to see past hers, but after a moment of this Izayaroa seemed to realize his predicament and obligingly re-angled herself to give him an unimpeded view.
Two soldiers of the Phantom Legion stood guard to either side of the door. They were clearly spectral, though the glow of the surrounding Timeglass obscured the faint luminosity he remembered them possessing. For the moment their exposed faces appeared skeletal, with only occasional flickers of the shape of a fully fleshed head around them. And the odd position they were holding, what was— Oh, Kaln belatedly recognized the gesture as the salute their commander had given him previously. They must have done that upon their arrival, he just hadn’t been positioned to see it.
“Thank you,” he said aloud, trying for the solemn yet offhanded demeanor he’d seen high-ranking government functionaries use toward honor guards back home in Rhivkabat. “As you were.”
Both ghosts immediately snapped back to proper attention, thumping the butts of their spears once against the flagstones and then going completely immobile. Undeath, Kaln reflected, probably did much to improve one’s ability to stand still.
“Hm,” Izayaroa grunted in a pensive tone, then finally stepped forward into the towering corridor.
He could already see the fruits of their labor here; previously, this access passage had been liberally strewn with trash, moss, and cobwebs. It was now utterly pristine, as spotless as if every inch had been polished. But even that was nothing compared to what awaited them at the end.
They emerged into the cavernous main chamber of the lair, and Izayaroa came to a halt, slowly swiveling her long neck to gaze around in silence. Kaln couldn’t blame her; the place was unrecognizable.
It had previously fallen into such a state of decay that a thorough cleaning had changed the very shape of it. Gone was the sea of bones, leaving behind a clean expanse of Timestone floor with its decorative engravings revealed. There were, Kaln observed, bands of Timesteel set into the floor, separating the relatively plain stonework from the large sections which had been laid out in geometric murals. Also gone was the centuries-deep layer of moss, mildew, dust, and cobwebs which had climbed up the walls and even across the ceiling, and aside from the cleanliness, the best part was that this entire huge chamber was generously embellished with Timeglass inlay, which was now unobscured and glowed vividly. Warm, clean radiance filled the space, as much a contrast to its previous dimness as the spotlessness was to its former filth, bringing out the golden hues of Timestone and Timesteel that made it look like a completely different room from the gray cavern of before. Even the sounds were clearer, less muffled; water flowed merrily through channels in the floor which had been entirely covered by ancient bone piles, and inset gears and pipes revealed through decorative apertures in the walls clicked and hissed steadily away, sounding clearer and, Kaln thought, faster than they had been.
He particularly appreciated that the stink of ancient decay was gone.
A thump echoed from outside while they stood, taking it in, followed by the heavy clatter of huge claws upon Timestone, and Vadaralshi came trotting into the room from behind them, clearly none the worse for wear and apparently not even annoyed about her recent comeuppance.
“I know, right?” she said cheerfully. “I gotta hand it to you, Pants, your crazy idea paid off nicely. I mean, look at this place! Holy crap, we’ve got lights!”
Izayaroa turned to give her a disdainful look, which the younger dragon affected not to notice; she was too busy scampering forward to the middle of the floor, where she actually began capering about, spinning in circles and pouncing like a puppy, as if to revel in the newfound abundance of floor space.
If their arrival hadn’t done it, that was apparently enough to alert the other occupants of the household to their return. Two pointed heads on long necks emerged from their respective doorways, well above ground level.
“Husband, Izayaroa,” Tiavathyris greeted them calmly, dipping her head once. “Welcome back.”
“Ah, you’ve returned,” Emeralaphine said in a far more brusque tone. “I trust your errand was successful.”
“Our part in the task is done,” Izayaroa agreed. “The next steps will require your help in particular, Emeralaphine. And there has been…an additional complication.”
Emeralaphine snorted. “Oh? I suppose I should not be surprised that you couldn’t manage to handle it yourself.”
Izayaroa lifted her head, and Kaln didn’t wait to hear her rebuttal.
“Ladies,” he said sharply. “Peace, please. I’ve only just returned home, and I don’t need to hear bickering. I would ask how things have gone, here, but I can see for myself. Any problems?”
“Hmph,” Emeralaphine sniffed as Pheneraxa poked her head into the room from behind her. “Yes, yes, fine. I do say, husband, I have not become accustomed to having these…horrible little gremlins running around my home. That will take more than a couple of days. I’m compelled to admit that they manage not to get in the way, though.”
There were indeed phantom soldiers stationed throughout the room, a pair of them bracketing every door and standing rigidly at attention. To demonstrate her point, Emeralaphine flicked at the nearest with her tail. The ghost evaded her without effort—not moving as a person would, but flowing aside in a puff of mist, then returning to his post.
“Well, don’t harass them, please,” Kaln said, struggling to contain his exasperation. “The ability of good troops to work around your needs is a trait to be appreciated, not tested for your amusement.”
“Yes, quite,” Tiavathyris agreed. “I confess I am not entirely sanguine about this use of the souls of soldiers, but one cannot impugn results. The change in here is incredible—particularly in how quickly it was achieved. After all, the dead need no rest. And, it must be said, the enslaved don’t need their morale managed.”
The sensation Kaln experienced wasn’t quite a headache, not in the physical sense. But it was…something. Right between and behind his eyes, the inexorably building pressure that came from having to manage these beings whose awesome power was exceeded only by their egos.
“The ‘must’ in that sentence was carrying a lot of weight,” Pheneraxa commented. “Did that truly need to be said?”
Tiavathyris swiveled her neck around to stare at her, parting her jaws as if in preparation to hiss or bite. Emeralaphine, in reaction, reared up to her full height, baring her own teeth.
Kaln released the hold affixing him to Izayaroa’s back and teleported right into the middle of them.
“She’s right,” he stated, locking eyes with Tiavathyris. “Not that her sniping is helpful or particularly smart, but the observation itself was correct. If the Phantom Legion don’t enjoy their situation, well, that would’ve been something for them to consider before they abandoned their oaths and country. And I would like this to be the last time we have this specific discussion, please. I will always hold your counsel in the highest esteem, Tiavathyris, and I hope you will not hesitate to offer it—when you have something new or useful to contribute. This argument can only end with me reminding the Legion out loud of what they did. They’re already being adequately punished and I don’t think they deserve to have their noses rubbed in it any further. Unless something new comes up, drop it.”
“It shall be as you say, husband.” Far from anger at being thus shot down, Tiavathyris smiled broadly and dipped her neck to him in a deep gesture of submission. “I appreciate the wisdom of your position.”
“And you!” He pointed at Pheneraxa. “Just…shut up. Next time you feel an urge to rile up one of your siblings or aunts, go read a book instead.”
Stolen novel; please report.
The blue dragon spread her wings, dipped her head, and crossed one foreleg before the other in an elaborate six-limbed variant of a curtsy.
“I hear and obey, o my lord and master. All things shall transpire according to your will, as it is written.”
“Can you maybe hear and obey a bit less sarcastically?” he asked wearily.
“Pick your battles, husband,” Izayaroa murmured, lowering her head to his level from behind so he could see her smile.
“Right, yes. And speaking of battles. Commander!”
The leader of the Phantom Legion materialized right before him, luminous ectoplasm forming in a cloud in the air and then coalescing into his form. Silent as always, he saluted.
“Fine work,” Kaln praised. “Your troops are to be commended. I apologize for anything my family did to hamper you, which I’m sure at least some of them did. Anything to report?”
The commander held up one hand and, in another drift of glittering blue dust, a sheet of parchment appeared in his grasp. He held this up facing Kaln, who started to reach for it but then drew back; it seemed to be part of the commander’s physical essence, what there was of it. Instead he leaned forward, squinting.
“Ah… I don’t suppose you can write in Vhii?”
“Here, let me.” Pheneraxa paced over to him, sticking her long nose over his shoulder to peer at the ghostly parchment. “As I thought, this is in classical Darashi. It’s a mission report. There were no intrusions during your absence, the Legion had no need to consult with your consorts for orders, and they found and scouted a deep cave system which is now being used for refuse disposal. Soldiers were sent all the way to the bottom to verify it is not magically active or inhabited before they started throwing bones in there.”
Well, this was going to be interesting. “Are there any language primers on Darashi in the library?”
“Of course there are,” Pheneraxa sniffed, pulling back to scowl reproachfully at him. “Just what sort of two-bit operation do you think we’re running, here? That is the personal library of Emeralaphine the White Wind!”
“Perfect, then I guess I know what my new hobby will be,” Kaln said with a sigh. Why did everything have to be so arbitrarily difficult? Clearly the Legionaries could understand his verbal orders. He supposed it was understandable that they couldn’t speak out loud, but…why couldn’t they just write in Vhii or Filvallin? Oh, well, learning languages was fun and gratifying, and he’d not had the opportunity to pursue any in a while. Maybe he should bone up on the peculiarities of necromancy while he was in there. “Thank you, Commander, good work. And now that the place is cleaned enough to see them… Does anybody know what these do?”
He gestured, and the various dragons swiveled their head to look—including Vanimax, who had just emerged from Izayaroa’s chambers looking surly as usual. Now that he could see them plainly, Kaln was able to count eight distinct Timekeeper devices displayed in here. In fact, they were laid out in two neat rows lining the central path up toward Atraximos’s—his, now—chambers. Varying in size from an obelisk just shorter than Kaln packed with whirring gears to an interlocking set of slowly rotating Timesteel rings that rose almost two stories tall and half as wide, they were clearly not fastened to the floor, but had been brought here and set down.
“If we did, husband, they’d be in use,” Emeralaphine answered. “Offensive as the statement may be to archaeologists, when you’ve seen one inscrutable Timekeeper machine, you’ve sort of seen them all. The only thing you really can do with the ones that provide this kind of perpetual motion is hook them up to modern cogworks as a source of motive force, but none of us are interested in that kind of tinkering. Otherwise, they’re basically just decorative.”
“I see. And…why are they all out here? Useless or not, Timekeeper artifacts are extremely valuable. I’m astonished that none of you have them squirreled away in your hoards. Or that Atraximos didn’t, for that matter.”
“These were uncovered by…collective effort,” Izayaroa explained, grinning. “We’ve long since extricated anything portable and interesting from the ancient city; these are the specimens about which there was some dispute of ownership. Atraximos grew tired of the ensuing…discussions and decreed they would be displayed out here in the common area.”
“Hm. I was about to have the Legion move them somewhere out of the way, but… I can see the sense in that arrangement. Well, they make pretty good conversation pieces, anyway. Very well, then, Commander, never mind. You have your duties; I will summon you when I have additional orders. Dismissed.”
The ghost saluted again and dissolved into a puff of glowing mist.
“Well, look at you,” Vadaralshi commented, grinning hugely. “Laying plans and barking orders! Where’s all that courtly diffidence from before? You’re like a whole different pair of pants!”
“I see someone has been encouraging him,” Emeralaphine commented, but she did so with a smile.
“As is no less than a wife’s duty,” Izayaroa said primly.
Pheneraxa snorted. “To have gotten him this spicy in just a couple of days, she must have encouraged his brains out.”
Vadaralshi cackled madly; Vanimax rolled his eyes, turned, and silently stalked back into his mother’s chambers, tail lashing behind him.
Probably for the best. Kaln was trying something, based on Izayaroa’s comments about what dragons like in a mate, and so far, it seemed to be working. Even Emeralaphine had not taken exception to his assertive demeanor; Tiavathyris was actually giving him what he might have interpreted as bedroom eyes, though it was a bit hard to parse that expression on her currently reptilian face.
Could that be… Was that really all she’d wanted? Kaln dismissed the idea; it was surely a piece of the puzzle, but there was no way it was that simple.
More to the point, the one likely exception to this rule of draconic behavior was Vanimax. Kaln had already established dominance there, as firmly as possible, and reinforcing that was only going to widen the rift. He needed…or at least wanted to come to some accord with Vanimax, but had little idea how to even begin. That was really the last major sticking point, in terms of his relationships with the family. Even the other two drakes, while they both had difficult personalities in their own ways, weren’t nakedly hostile toward Kaln. Actually he thought they both might like him on at least some level.
With dragons, it could be hard to tell.
“Emeralaphine,” he said aloud, “I need your expertise.”
“Of course you do,” she replied, managing to look condescending and flattered at the same time. “I believe Izayaroa mentioned that, in fact. Very well, what’s gone wrong?”
“On our way out of the city, we were approached by a priest of… Which one was it?” He turned to Izayaroa. “The Evervales pantheon is kind of outside of my sphere of expertise.”
“Oooh, you have expertise?” Vadaralshi cooed mockingly. Tiavathyris smacked her away with a wing.
“Anessima,” Izayaroa explained, “commonly known as the Shepherd. She is goddess of… Well, a discussion of comparative theology wouldn’t be germane, so—”
“For all intents and purposes, you may think of the Shepherd as the goddess of perseverance,” Emeralaphine interrupted. “Izayaroa is right, there are deep nuances and a priest of the Flock could go into more detail, but in essence she embodies the spirit to keep one’s head down and survive no matter what befalls. Small wonder her faith became the largest organized religion in the Vales, with Atraximos darkening the skies. Why, what’s she done now? You met a priest?”
“The priest offered herself to Izayaroa,” Kaln explained.
Vanimax’s head poked out of the doorway, wearing a frown.
“As…” Pheneraxa tilted her own head, blinking. “You mean…sexually?”
“That would be a very strange move, for a priest of the Flock,” Emeralaphine mused.
“As a sacrifice,” Izayaroa clarified, flicking her tail in annoyance. “She seemed to be under the impression she was about to die if I accepted.”
“A sacrifice?” Tiavathyris narrowed her eyes to slits. “To you? None of us have ever demanded such, but I should think you would be the least likely to be approached for that purpose.”
“Thank you,” Izayaroa replied, nodding deeply to her. “Yes, that was my response as well. Obviously, the point of most immediate concern is that Anessima detected my presence and felt the need to respond, but while we are on the topic, I must ask: have any of you been demanding sacrifices from the local mortals?”
The dragons blinked and frowned, glancing about at one another in uncertainty. One by one, they all turned their heads to stare at Emeralaphine.
“What? Seriously?” She slapped her tail against the floor in rising irritation. “When would I have done such a thing? I never leave here. And more importantly, why? There’s nothing to be proved by such barbarism, even Atraximos never indulged in that particularly stupid vice.”
“That is what I thought,” said Izayaroa. “Then we are left with questions and no answers.”
“One answer seems simple enough,” said Tiavathyris. “Anessima may never have reacted to you or any of us before, but then… No one has ever visited one of her cities in the company of a godling.”
Kaln heaved a sigh. “I figured that was probably it. Well… Hells uncounted, our grace period might have ended a lot earlier than we’d hoped. Whether or not they know Atraximos is gone, at least one of the gods now knows I’m here.”
“They already knew that, husband,” Emeralaphine pointed out. “Gods seldom explain themselves, even to their mortal followers. Especially to their mortal followers. Gratuitously, obstreperously mysterious beings, ever one of them.”
“They’re almost as bad as dragons,” Pheneraxa said solemnly, and ducked to one side when her mother swiped at her with a wing.
“Anessima and the other three noticed you during your apotheosis, remember,” Emeralaphine continued. “They apparently expected you to perish in the process, as most would-be godlings do; since you have not, and are living right on their doorstep, so to speak, it stands to reason that the four of them will be curious what you’re up to. Well, this is annoying, but it need not be a crisis; we’ll simply have to come up with a way to reassure them that Kaln isn’t going to disrupt the local power structure.”
Tiavathyris cleared her throat. “He created a power vacuum by destroying Atraximos the Dread, and is establishing himself as a new deity with a dragon-aligned aspect, from a nigh-unassailable seat of power, at the head of a family of dragons. Kaln, and by extension this family as a whole, is definitely going to upend the local power structure.”
“Then the task is to convince the gods to work with rather than against us,” Izayaroa mused. “Hm… That will not be a small undertaking, but it need not be necessarily impossible.”
“Pants is the smoothest mortal I’ve ever met,” Vadaralshi agreed. “If anyone can shmooze the gods, it’s him.”
“He’s mostly a big flirt,” Pheneraxa commented. “Might not be wise to try that on Anessima. She’s married to the Huntsman.”
“Are they actually married, or is that just a religious fable?” Vadaralshi countered.
“That’s actually an interesting question; whichever was the case originally, the nature of gods and their relationships to magic and the belief of their followers—”
Izayaroa loudly cleared her throat. “As we have already established, this is not the time for a digression into theology. Kaln can brush up on that later. For now, the other matter at hand is his food supply. We acquired the first shipment while in Boisverd; he has his in that bag of holding. That will give us roughly two weeks to make arrangements for deliveries.”
“Did you not make arrangements with these merchant contacts of yours while in the city?” Tiavathyris asked pointedly.
“Of course,” Izayaroa retorted, “but I obviously couldn’t have them deliver biweekly shipments of foodstuffs here. I have a small cottage in the Boisverd hinterlands to which I’ve had merchants deliver things before. It’s easy enough to visit surreptitiously; I have done so many a time.”
“Oh, let me guess,” Vadaralshi said sourly. “That’s gonna be our job from now on.”
“Sounds easier than hunting,” said Pheneraxa.
“Hunting is fun!” her sister snapped. “We are dragons! Do you fancy being demoted to a beast of burden?”
“That would be problematic anyway,” Kaln cut in. “If one of the gods—and therefore probably all four—have their eyes on us, I wouldn’t trust any amount of stealth to get one of you to and from a dedicated drop point at regular intervals.”
“That is a risk,” Izayaroa agreed. “We can probably get away with it once or twice—but it would require the magical skill of one of us three, not something the kids could pull off.”
“Hey, I can go invisible!” Vadaralshi protested. “That’s basic magic, you don’t need to be insulting.”
“Child, hush,” Tiavathyris scolded.
“I think Kaln is right, regardless,” Izayaroa continued. “It is riskier than my other idea.”
“Oh, I’m sure this will be rich,” Emeralaphine scoffed.
“In fact, I rather think you will like it,” Izayaroa said, smirking at her. “It gives you your favorite thing: a chance to show off.”
“Ah, you want magic done?” The white dragon visibly preened, arching her neck proudly. “Very well, it stands to reason you would call upon my skill, then. Anything you can imagine, be assured I can do. What is your grand plan? Let me guess, you want to cast a mind-controlling charm over your merchants to have them bring supplies right here and then forget everything they’ve seen.”
“Of all the convoluted—why would that be your first thought?” Izayaroa demanded, exasperated. “No, obviously I meant the simplest answer! We simply need you to create a teleportation portal linking the drop point to our lair.”
“Oh.” Emeralaphine’s expression soured and she lashed her tail. “Well, then. No, I can’t do that.”