Frostfang glanced at Squallwing out of the corner of his eye. The younger dragon was huffing and puffing as he laboured to keep pace. He had told Stormbringer that he would be seeking out Regal Flame next, and she had asked him to take Squallwing with him. Apparently, her grandson had business in Regal Flame's lands, and having Frostfang around should keep him from getting himself killed.
She had stated that last part quite bluntly, and he could see what she meant. Squallwing had achieved his First Awakening, but despite being five hundred feet long, the younger dragon was the very opposite of imposing. He was a sluggish flier, lacking in both speed and agility, and neither his physical abilities or magic were impressive either.
What he did have, however, was an oddly well-developed grasp of various magic-related subjects that he was only too happy to talk about. And he had talked about them. A lot. The young dragon had initially been quite wary of Frostfang, but once he'd realised that Frostfang wasn't about to eat him or tear him limb from limb, he'd rambled on about a variety of topics, from alchemy and how to shortcut the casting of ordered magic to the creation of charms and magical focuses.
Frostfang had paid only passing attention to Squallwing's monologue, but the young dragon's knowledge was certainly above average for his age. He must be a scholar in temperament although his neglect of his combat-related abilities was troubling.
"You are falling behind," Frostfang drawled as they flew over the ocean. "How often do you fly?"
Squallwing winced. "Perhaps less than I should." He paused. This was likely a topic that he had spoken of many times before, both with his parents and with Stormbringer. "I just prefer studying over hunting and fighting, and my mother says it is safer for me."
"Hmm…" Frostfang was not one to interfere in how another dragon raised their child, but this was an important topic. He wouldn't put it past Stormbringer to have sent Squallwing with him just so he could hear the thoughts of another primordial dragon. "Studying is all well and good, but this world can be a cruel place. If you do not know how to fight, then only death awaits you."
Squallwing visibly shuddered, and the laboured beating of his wings slowed as he shifted himself into a better position to conserve energy. Frostfang frowned. Had he flown so infrequently that flying in formation with a larger dragon wasn't instinctive? He doubted that Stormbringer would tolerate such a careless approach to raising a hatchling, so there must be some explanation.
"I know," Squallwing said. "I am… weak compared to my cousins."
"Why?" Frostfang asked. He saw no need for excessive tact. If there was a problem, then it should be solved now while Squallwing was still young rather than allowing it to fester. If nothing else, addressing his physical and magical weakness would make it easier for him to eventually attain a Second Awakening.
"I was badly wounded when I was a hatchling," Squallwing said. "I strayed from my mother's side and encountered a flock of drakes."
Frostfang growled. Drakes and dragons rarely got along. Dragons viewed drakes as lesser versions of themselves whilst drakes resented the natural advantages that dragons had, foremost amongst them their access to a magical breath attack. Drakes could develop breath attacks, but they were thoroughly mundane in nature.
For instance, a fire drake might be able to breathe fire, but it was a strictly mundane process. Their fire was created by the combination of a number of substances secreted from glands in their mouths. In contrast, a dragon's fire was magical in nature, a product of their soul and magic. It was not uncommon for young fire drakes to be hunted by humans, elves, and other such species. They would slay the drake and take those glands, allowing them to create a variety of flammable substances. In contrast, a dragon's fire could not be stolen so easily. Indeed, once a dragon was dead, their fire was gone forever.
As a result, drakes and dragons frequently clashed. Drakes were typically smaller and weaker than dragons, and their Ascensions were no match for the Awakenings a dragon experienced. However, they often lived in large groups, and it was not unheard of for flocks of drakes to attack and kill lesser dragons and hatchlings.
"You did well to survive," Frostfang rumbled. "What became of the drakes?"
"My mother heard my cries. She was able to rescue me before I perished. When my grandmother found out, she dealt with the drakes herself."
Frostfang chuckled. "That would not have taken her long."
"According to my cousins, it rained drakes that day, so many fell before her wrath."
Frostfang could easily imagine that. Stormbringer was a primordial dragon. There was no drake alive who could stand against her, and her wrath would have been terrible indeed. To harm one of her grandchildren? That was not something she could overlook, especially since Squallwing had only been a hatchling at the time.
"How large were you then?" Frostfang asked.
"About six feet long."
That got his attention, and he turned his head to gaze at the younger dragon. "Six feet long? Your mother was careless then. You should never have been out of her sight at that size."
"I was curious," Squallwing said, coming to his mother's defence. "And I was good at sneaking off. It was my fault, not hers."
"You said that you were badly wounded."
"Yes. I barely survived, and I was fortunate that I was healed without any permanent damage to my magical circulatory system. But since that day, my mother rarely lets me out of her sight, and I have become reluctant to venture too far from our home."
"You were both afraid," Frostfang said, and Squallwing flinched. Cowardice was one of the worst insults that could be levelled against a dragon. It was one thing for a dragon to retreat because they could not win and needed time to devise a strategy or acquire more power. It was quite another for a dragon to flee because they were afraid.
"I… yes." Squallwing sagged. "I was able to achieve a First Awakening with my grandmother's help, but she said that I would be unlikely to achieve a Second Awakening if I continued this way." His body tensed. "I… I don't want to be weak, and I don't want to die so young. When my grandmother found out that you were going to Regal Flame next, I begged her to let me join you."
"Oh?" Perhaps the hatchling had some courage in him after all. "Why?"
"Regal Flame is supposed to have a lot of books about magic. Grandmother says that Regal Flame owes her a few small favours, and that I could exchange those for being allowed to copy those books. I don't have large magical reserves, but I do know a lot about magic. The books I want to copy are supposed to contain training methods for increasing my magical reserves. If I can do that, then maybe I won't be so weak."
It was odd that he was fixated on acquiring new training methods, but perhaps there was something about him that prevented him from making good use of the more common ones. At least he was taking action.
"What of your father?" Frostfang asked. "You have not spoken of him."
"He fell," Squallwing sagged. "When I was still in my egg. He went mad during the Sixth Catastrophe and grandmother had to… to…"
"Ah." Frostfang nodded grimly.
The Sixth Catastrophe's powers had been potent indeed. Part of her pre-emptive strike had involved driving many of her potential opponents mad and having them turn on their own families, friends, and allies. Most likely, Stormbringer had been forced to strike Squallwing's father down before he could do something terrible. Freeing the minds of the afflicted had been possible, but it had not been easy, and it had taken expertise that not all of them had possessed at the time. Fortunately, Doomwing had developed countermeasures and had shared them amongst any who had the strength and expertise to use them, but many had fallen prey to the Sixth Catastrophe's machinations in the meantime.
"You cannot change the past," Frostfang said. "Instead, focus on becoming a dragon your father can be proud of." He bared his teeth. "You are tired. I can feel it. But you are a dragon. Do not falter. As weak as your body is now, it will rapidly adjust if you continue to push yourself."
"What if fall out of the sky?" Squallwing asked. "My wings… they ache so much. I've never flown this far in one go before."
"I will not let you fall," Frostfang said. "So continue pushing yourself. We are not that far from land. We will rest when we reach the coast."
Squallwing managed to stay aloft until they reached the coast, and Frostfang found a suitable place for him to land. The younger dragon all but collapsed upon the desert sands while Frostfang stayed aloft, his keen gaze surveying their surroundings. The desert spanned a considerable distance up and down the coast and continued inland before stopping just shy of a towering mountain range.
That mountain range was where Regal Flame made her home, and on the other side of it should be a vast forest teeming with life. That was not to say that the desert was devoid of life. Several dryads lived there, and their towering forms loomed up over the desert sands like living mountains.
Desert elves lived with those dryads. Some made their homes within the trees themselves whilst others built settlements in the shade the trees cast. Still others dug out settlements in the ground amidst the roots. The dryads survived by drawing water up from deep beneath the surface and by harvesting magic from the powerful currents that flowed through the land.
From what he remembered, the elves subsisted on the bounty the dryads could provide, as well as the many creatures that lurked in the desert. There were reptiles, birds, and mammals of various sizes, many of which survived by digging burrows or developing resistance to heat. There were also massive creatures that lurked beneath the sands, giants that could sate even a primordial dragon's hunger.
The elves also tended to various species of cacti that the dryads had developed. These cacti were fearsome-looking plants with a variety of defences like spikes and poisons to drive away predators. However, the elves had been taught how to harvest them, and their fearsome appearance concealed their nutritious nature.
Closer to the coast, the desert elves could also fish because the coastal waters were rich with all manner of sea life. Since few of the dryads lived near the coast, the elves there would have to build their own settlements, most frequently by digging into hillsides like dwarves. There were even tunnels beneath the surface that linked these coastal settlements to the underground chambers scattered amongst the roots of the dryads' trees. These tunnels were reinforced by the dryads and were often accompanied by other chambers where crops could be grown.
Normal elves could not have survived in such a manner, but desert elves had an even closer bond to their dryads than normal elves. It meant they seldom left their desert homes, but it allowed them to flourish in an environment where regular elves would soon have perished. Frostfang had occasionally wondered why the dryads had not tried to convert the desert into a forest, but apparently, the magic that flowed through the land predisposed the entire area to being a desert, so their attempts would have been quite unlikely to succeed. Perhaps when they were older and more numerous, they might be able to change things, but that would take at least another Age or two.
"How are you?" Frostfang asked Squallwing.
"Better." Squallwing had gone from slumping on the ground to drawing on the magic around him to replenish his strength. Frostfang had food packed away with magic, and he took a whale he'd caught before leaving home and tossed it to Squallwing.
"Eat that," Frostfang said. "You have only achieved your First Awakening, so food will be of great use to your recovery."
The more Awakenings a dragon had experienced, the faster and more efficient they were at replenishing their stamina using the magic around them. At a certain point, dragons could become so good at drawing on surrounding magic that they basically didn't need to eat. That was how powerful dragons could slumber for decades – or even centuries – at a time. Not only could they put their bodies into a state of hibernation but they could also consistently draw on the magic around them to nourish themselves. At that point, dragons ate mainly because they enjoyed it and because it could be quicker than relying on absorbing magic.
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However, a young dragon like Squallwing was still a long, long way from reaching that point. Instead, eating vast quantities of regular food was likely the fastest way to restore his stamina. Besides, he was scrawny for his length and age, so a bit of extra food would be good for him.
As he waited for Squallwing to regain his strength, he noticed several desert elves riding toward them on large lizards. They had made no effort to conceal themselves, and they had not drawn their weapons, so he allowed them to approach as he used magic to soften his landing. Behind him Squallwing regarded the elves warily, and Frostfang felt a weak burst of detection magic spill outward. It was a decent idea, albeit lacking in execution.
"Greetings!" the leader of the elves called. These elves had darker skin than their forest-dwelling kin, and their clothes were colours more in keeping with the desert than the greens and browns favoured by those who lived amongst the trees. "Do I have the great honour of addressing the mighty Frostfang?"
Frostfang was amused by the elf's overly polite speech and pleased to be recognised. "You do."
The elf dismounted his lizard, patting the beast affectionately on the side, before sweeping into an elegant bow. He straightened, and his dark eyes were keen as they flicked from Frostfang to Squallwing. "Then allow me to extend the warmest possible greetings on behalf of both my people and our noble lady, Phacelia."
"Phacelia is known to me," Frostfang said. "And I return your greetings. You are polite, elf, and that is good."
"Courtesy is common sense," the elf replied. "Especially when dealing with one such as yourself." He tapped his chest. "I am Eremos, a captain of the elves that serve Lady Phacelia. May I ask what brings you to these lands? I had thought your domain to be in the far north, at the roof of the world."
"Those lands are indeed mine. I have no business in the desert. I am merely passing through. My business is with Regal Flame in the mountains beyond this place."
"Ah. Of course." Eremos inclined his head. "Yet, if I may, I wish to present a request on behalf of my lady."
"Speak," Frostfang said. "Although I will agree to nothing until I know what Phacelia wants."
"You are known as the One Who Brings Winter With Him. My lady has many powers, but the cold has never answered to her. However, there are certain… projects that she wishes to undertake that will be greatly aided with access to magic that presides over ice and cold."
"I see." Frostfang's eyes narrowed.
Dryads could learn ice and frost magic, but few of them were any good at it. It would be far easier for Phacelia if she had a device that could convert her nature, life, and growth magic into magic that presided over ice and cold while also offering her some measure of control over the resulting magic.
Frostfang was more than capable of creating an item that could do so. Indeed, any dragon of his lineage who had undergone even their First Awakening should be able to manage that without much difficulty. However, the capabilities of such items were heavily dependent on the dragons who made them. As a primordial winter dragon, even a lazy effort from him would easily outclass an item made by anyone else.
"I could make such an item," Frostfang said. "But I would not do so for free."
"Of course," Eremos said smoothly. "My noble lady is no beggar. She seeks an item that can match the output and control typical of spells of the twelfth order."
"Oh?" The twelfth order was a useful stopping point since spells of that order were powerful enough to harm most creatures but still easy and quick enough to be practical in battle. "I am capable of making an item that can go further."
"My noble lady is wise. Such an item might prove to be… too much for her purposes."
"And what does she intend?" Frostfang asked bluntly. "I have no desire for any creation of mine to be used recklessly."
"Of course. My lady wishes to grow different plants, many of which cannot survive in this place, even with her aid. But there are chambers underground where cooling magic could be used to help them grow, to say nothing of the advantages cooling magic might offer for various crafting and alchemical pursuits."
"What can she offer me in return?" Frostfang asked.
"It is said that no dryad has attempted to settle in the far north for quite some time," Eremos said. "But my lady has a daughter who has begun to dream of ice and snow. She is young yet, little more than a sapling, but…"
A dryad willing to try their luck in the far north? Frostfang was careful not to let his greed show. This was a most fortuitous encounter. He had no idea if the young dryad would be able to make it work, but just finding a dryad who was willing to try could be considered a triumph.
"Hmm…" He made as if to consider the matter before nodding. "I will need to speak to Phacelia in person, but those terms seem agreeable to me. I will conclude my business with Regal Flame and then seek out Phacelia before I leave this region."
"Thank you, mighty Frostfang. I shall relay your words to my lady." Eremos pointed toward an outcrop of black stone in the distance. "If you and your companion are still hungry, then you may wish to try your luck over there. It is not unusual for great worms to be found in that area."
"Worms?" Frostfang asked. "How large?"
"Many are the length of your companion, and the largest are bigger even than you."
"Hmm… perhaps we shall try our luck," Frostfang said.
"Then good hunting," Eremos said before bowing. "We shall take out leave now."
Frostfang turned to Squallwing. The younger dragon must have known what he was thinking because he was cringing.
"Do we have to?" Squallwing asked.
"If you wish to grow stronger, there is no time like the present. My presence ensures that you shall not come to any true harm. Use this opportunity to grow stronger."
Squallwing nodded. "Yes, that is how I should look at it. Besides, they're just worms. How difficult can they be to slay?"
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Frostfang ignored Squallwing's pleas for help as the younger dragon was tackled headfirst into the sand. The worm he'd chosen to fight was slightly larger than him – and far more vicious. A few other worms had gathered, drawn by the fighting, but they kept their distance, wary of Frostfang.
"Help!" Squallwing wailed, clawing frantically at the worm. Unfortunately, the creature's entire body was heavily armoured, so all he was doing was making it madder. The worm's mouth was filled with circular rows of serrated teeth, and sparks flew as it tried to rip into Squallwing's side.
"You're fine," Frostfang replied. "Stop flailing around and get your footing." Perhaps out of fear or desperation, Squallwing obeyed. The young dragon managed to get his feet under him. "Good. Now brace your shoulder under the worm and lift."
"It's heavy!"
"You're a dragon. You can lift it. And if your muscles aren't strong enough, use a bit of magic. You know enhancement magic, right?"
"I've never used it in a situation like this!" Squallwing growled. He had braced his shoulder underneath the worm as best he could, but the monsters refused to budge. "My feet are sinking into the sand."
"Then harden the sand beneath you with magic." One of the other worms lumbered forward to intervene, and Frostfang sent a blast of searing cold at it. The others fled as the worm was frozen solid. "Breathe. Relax. The most dangerous part of the worm is its mouth. With your shoulder braced under it, it can't get at you. Take your time."
Frostfang could remember his first real hunt. He'd been so much smaller then, and his father had stayed back, allowing him to make mistakes as he'd squared off against a giant bear. At the time, Frostfang had felt as though he was fighting for his life, but he had realised afterward that his father could have intervened at any moment. As the battle had progressed, his father had spoken to him, his calm voice offering advice on how best to approach the situation.
On that day, Frostfang had learned of the importance of keeping his wits about him and mastering his emotions. Emotions could be useful things, but thinking clearly during battle was essential. Anger could make a dragon reckless whilst fear could rob them of their strength. A wise dragon learned how to harness the power of their emotions while never allowing those emotions to rule them.
"That's it," Frostfang said as the ground beneath Squallwing hardened. "Good. Now, use your enhancement magic – and don't forget to keep your grip tight. Don't let the worm squirm free."
Squallwing snarled and bared his teeth as he finally began to drive the worm back. Lightning crackled over his scales, and his wings pushed against the ground to boost his momentum.
"It's off balance now," Frostfang said. "Twist and throw it. You'll know how. It's instinct." Squallwing roared and pivoted, heaving the worm over his shoulder. It slammed into the desert sand, momentarily stunned. "Use your lightning! Aim for its mouth!"
Squallwing drew his head back and then unleashed a bolt of lightning straight into the worm's mouth. The creature shrieked, and then fell still and silent as smoke drifted out of its maw. Most likely, the lightning had fried its innards and brain. Squallwing dragged in several deep breaths and then collapsed onto his back, wings splayed out, scarcely able to move.
Frostfang chuckled and loomed over Squallwing. His scales were cracked in multiple places, one of wings was moving slightly awkwardly, and he had a few chipped teeth from when he'd made the mistake of trying to bite the worm in the head. "How do you feel?"
Squallwing stared at him. "I almost died! It almost ripped my chest open! I… I…" He began to laugh. "I feel… I feel alive!"
Frostfang grinned. "Good. Remember this feeling. This is what it means to be a dragon." He hauled Squallwing up onto his feet. "We should go visit Regal Flame now."
"Like this?" Squallwing motioned at his battered body. "I look terrible."
"Regal Flame is the daughter of Sovereign Flame who was the oldest and mightiest of our kind in the days when the First Gods still walked the world. They called him the Uncrowned King, for dragons have no kings, yet there was not a dragon alive in those days who would not have been proud to call him such. How do you think he won the respect of all our kind? It was through battle… through blood and claw and flame! She will not think less of you for arriving bearing wounds from a proper hunt."
Squallwing nodded slowly. "I… I see." He tested his wings. "I can fly, perhaps not as quickly as usual, but I can fly."
"You are fine," Frostfang said, using a small burst of magic to assess the younger dragon's wounds. "None of your wounds are serious. It will take you a few days at most to heal." He lifted the worm up and stored it away with his magic. "We can give the worm to Regal Flame. If we say it was from your first proper hunt, she will value it appropriately."
"But I've hunted before," Squallwing said.
"Not like this, you haven't. I can tell. Most likely your mother had you fight things much weaker than yourself. This worm was a decent challenge, and the wounds you bear are a testament to its strength. This was a proper hunt."
The words seemed to strike a chord because Squallwing's claws clenched, and he looked at the ruined dunes with fresh eyes. "Thank you," he said at last.
Frostfang stared at him for a long moment. His mother must have been so scared of losing him, especially after what had happened to her mate, and yet her attempts to keep him safe would only leave him more vulnerable in the long run. A weakling he might be, but he would never grow stronger if he was coddled. Perhaps that was why Stormbringer had agreed to let him accompany Frostfang. Frostfang would not coddle him, and seemingly small successes like this hunt could serve as the building blocks for future improvement.
Hmm… now that Frostfang thought about it, lessons such as these would only aid him in raising his own hatchlings.
"There is no need to thank me," Frostfang said. "But if you wish to prove your gratitude, then grow stronger. You may never reach the heights of your grandmother, but there is no reason that you cannot be stronger tomorrow than you are today."