Red, layered rocks rose from the dense jungle, like walls looming on all sides. It had been uncomfortably humid in the lowlands, but as Shane crested a gap between two ridges he felt a refreshing, cold, dry wind, which no doubt originated in the desert to the north. He ascended into that cold wind and floated over the treetops, striding the layer of air between too-cold desert and steaming jungle. It smelled strongly of the acrid southern jungle fruits and rancid flowers.
Yet another scent rode the winds, that of livestock. A naked shepherd led goats through the jungle below. Shane descended in front of the man. He was young, and he wore his blue hair long and straight, as Shane once had. Clan Caitria, Shane thought. The man's nude body was painted with pale blue patterns, his skin glistened with sweat in the humid air.
"Clansman, is your village nearby?" Shane spoke in the language of his parents, southern Rilnese, the dialect that was specific to Clan Caitria.
"Outlander," the man said, "what is your purpose? Why have you returned to your motherland?"
"I have come to speak with the leaders of each clan," Shane replied. "I was chosen by the Blue Dragon to become the Chief of Chiefs."
"They will not name you."
"Then they will die."
The man looked away, ashamed. "It is not my place to judge you, outlander. The sorcery you command is beyond even that of the Wise Woman. Go to the east until you see a blue spire rising from the jungle. That is where you fill find my village. They will know I have sent you, and I will be diminished."
"You will not be diminished. I will command it thus. Go in peace."
True to his word, there was indeed a blue spire to the east, at the bottom of a depression surrounded by a half-circle of waterfalls. A village was nestled into the river basin. Smoke rose from each windowless, adobe home. There were animals in the fenced-off yards, however there was no filth, and no trash. It was a remarkably clean village, and while many of the younger people were naked, their bodies were painted with artistry, and all of the people carried themselves with dignity.
Out of habit, Shane landed at the base of the blue spire. Without invitation, he strode inside. It was so unlike the purple spires that Astrid was wont to create. The bottom floor was not a foyer, there were no rings-like walkways, and no upper floors. It was just an empty cone made from blue crystal, with a natural red stone floor. Four people sat upon thrones resting on a wooden dais. They wore elaborate linen clothing, jewelry, and beads. The man and woman in the center were middle-aged, the local Chief and his wife. There was an older woman, no doubt the Wise Woman, and a well-built man with his hair in a bun, who was no doubt the local Knight Captain.
"Who comes into my spire without an invitation?" the Chief growled, causing his braided blue beard to jostle.
"I dreamed of this outlander," the Wise Woman rasped. The beads on her arms clattered as she beckoned him forward. "Do not make light of his strength. He could kill all four of us in a heartbeat."
"I do not fear death," the Chief replied. "What business do you have with us, outlander?"
"His business is very dark, my Chief," the Wise Woman said. "Speak your words, young man."
"The Blue Dragon is dead," Shane said flatly.
The Knight Captain suddenly stood up. He pointed his finger at Shane, and said: "Charlatan!"
"Peace," the Wise Woman said. "He speaks true. Young man, tell us how the Blue Dragon died."
"Princess Elvira of the Purple Dragons killed him. She bit down on his neck and ravaged his body with her claws."
"Lies! The Blue Dragon was strong and alert. He would have never let an enemy get close!"
"Last night I dreamed that a Spirit from the other side came to our world and took the life of our god, the Blue Dragon." The old woman pointed to Shane. "I recognize the face of this outlander. He was there."
The Knight Captain stomped his foot in protest. The woman sitting beside the Chief buried her face in her hands and began to cry. The Chief gestured, and she left the dais toward the back of the spire.
"If what you say is true," the Chief said. "Then we are doomed. The Red Dragon will lead her armies to the south."
"The Red Dragon has been dead for thirty years. I saw her corpse myself."
"More lies," the Knight Captain hissed. "Our tribe has lost many Knights to the oath-sworn servants of the Red Dragon."
"Power siphoned from her corpse using necromancy," Shane replied.
"I dreamed of a great battle in the sky," the Wise Woman said. "War Chiefs of the Four Clans smashed their armies against the Teeth of the Red Dragon. Many Knights were killed, many airships were burned out of the sky with crimson flame."
Shane reached into his pack and produced the notes that Deorwine had given him. He opened the page with the full diagram of the airplane design, with dimensions and specifications of the wings and control surfaces. He held it up for the other to see.
"This is a machine that can fly through the sky. It is powered by draconic sorcery. A single man, Felix of Quaria, killed many of the Knights of the Four Clans."
"Allow me to see that," the Chief said.
"This document is the only hope for saving our entire race," Shane said. He approached the dais and offered the book to the Chief. The man nodded, took the book carefully, and then settled into his seat. The Knight Captain sat beside the Chief as well, and they both whispered to each other, pointing at the pages. They turned the page a few times, and then the Chief handed the book back to Shane.
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"This is a machine of war," the Chief said. "The foolish clansmen who choose to live in the great cities sometimes speak of such machines. If our enemies in the north have succeeded in creating such a device, then it will be a very dangerous condition for us. Especially since our Knights have lost their powers."
"Chief!" the Knight Captain cried. "Do not speak of such things to this outlander!"
"I can help restore your power," Shane said, sensing an opportunity.
The man's face betrayed his desire, and he made no attempt to hide it. "Tell me how," the Knight Captain said.
Shane glanced at the Chief. "Call a clansmeet. Promise that you will name me Chief of Chiefs."
The Chief turned to the Wise Woman. "Summon her. Do it now."
The Wise Woman sighed. "Daughter of the Queen of Dreams, show yourself."
A small Dream Elemental, about as small as the ones hiding in the Realms, appeared on the dais. She looked a bit like the Greater Elemental that Brigid had summoned, but much smaller. No clothing covered her pale, translucent cyan skin. She saw Shane and she giggled. Then she began to dance.
"If I were to Wish that this man would die, could you kill him?" the Chief asked.
No silly, the Elemental replied with a chuckle. He is protected by the third High Daughter of the Elemental Queen of Dreams.
"Speak truth to us," the Chief growled, "who do you serve?"
"I serve Princess Astrid of the Purple Dragon Tribe," Shane admitted.
You keep dangerous company, the Dream Elemental said. Perhaps the Purple Dragon wishes to feast upon your souls? She has sent her servant to deceive you.
"Tell me," the Wise Woman said, "this second Purple Dragon that you serve, did she consume the soul of the Blue Dragon?"
"No, his soul was allowed to return to Ashe."
The Wise Woman gasped.
Impossible, a Purple Dragon would never allow a soul to return to Ashe. Not without making some sort of deal.
"What does it mean?" the Wise Woman asked.
It means that the Purple Dragon has some other purpose for your people.
"So should we trust this man?" the Chief asked.
Tee hee, that is a foolish question. What currency can be used to purchase a Purple Dragon, I wonder? Name yourself his ally, and maybe one day you will find out.
The Dream Elemental stopped dancing, then she vanished.
"How could we ever trust a man who we cannot control?" the Chief asked.
"It is out of our hands," the Wise Woman said. "I advise that we do as he wishes. Name him Chief of Chiefs, so that we might learn the lesson that the Dream Elemental foresaw."
"The Knights will accept him if he can restore our power," the Knight Captain said. "I advise that we do as he wishes, so that when the armies of the north arrive, the Knights may stand against them with dignity."
"Young man," the Chief said, leaning forward. His bright teal eyes were filled with intensity. "I wish to see these machines of war that you have shown us. I will call a clansmeet. I promise that I will name you Chief of Chiefs. You are welcome in my home and in my village." He leaned back. "I have spoken."
The Knight Captain rushed forward. "Now restore my powers," he insisted.
"What is your name?" Shane asked.
"I am called Fintan, Knight Captain of this village."
"I will restore your powers as promised, Fintan, but first you need to dress in warm clothes."
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Shane did not recognize his location when he arrived in the Realm of Fire. He had led the Draconic Paladins of Quaria to the Realm many times, and the landscape was always the same. Now, the landscape was unfamiliar. It was still cold and snowy, and there were still planet-sized volcanoes on the horizon, but the nearby cliffs, snow lakes, and forests were all different. Fintan looked uneasy as he crunched through the snow.
"What is this substance?" Fintan asked.
"It is called snow," Shane replied, using the Quarian word. He did not know the Rilnese word for snow. He didn't even know if such a word existed. "Have you seen the white patches at the top of the mountains in the desert in winter?"
"I have seen this thing, yes." Fintan reached up and brushed the snow off his head.
Shane looked around in every direction. A copse of trees on a nearby hill was burning. He began to march in that direction, and Fintan trailed behind.
"What is this place? Why is it so cold?" Fintan asked.
"This is the Realm of Fire," Shane said. The ghostly white box marking the edge of the Realm flickered above. "It is cold, so that the flames of the Fire Elementals may seem hotter."
The trees were burning into cinders in the center of the copse. The Fire Elemental sat upon a fallen log, which was glowing from within with dull orange light where the wood touched her legs and thighs. "Outlander," Fintan said, "I see her with my own eyes. You spoke true. There is a Fire Elemental in this place."
Shane the Doomsayer, I see that you are a master, and I see that you have brought an apprentice.
"Daughter of Fire," Shane said. "Why does this Realm look different?"
There are many Realms, spread out across your world. We offer our power only within a limited range. Most of the landmasses in your world are completely covered, but if you were to venture into unknown oceans you might find places where there is no Realm.
"I better understand the shape of the Realms," Shane said.
Fintan of Clan Caitria. I offer you my power, in exchange for your spiritual energy. Do you accept this power?
Fintan turned to Shane, raising one eyebrow quizzically. Shane nodded.
"I do so accept," Fintan said.
It is done. Shane the Doomsayer, you have two other Realms to visit. Be about your labors.
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It was after midday when they returned to the village. Shane did not know how to get kerosene, but Fintan was able to furnish a barrel of flammable oil made from animal fat. They stood in the training yard for the Knights, while villagers stood around gawking at the strange outlander. Shane tried not to gawk at the women who smiled his way. Fintan was a diligent student, and by late afternoon he was able to connect to all three Realms. As it had been with Felix, the Realm of Lightning was the most difficult for the Knight Captain.
"Now just connect to all three at the same time," Shane said. "Imagine the feeling just before breathing fire as a drake. Combine the three powers in a way that seems familiar to you, in a way that gives you the same feeling. Focus that power into your fist, and then punch upward toward the sky. Release that power."
Shane felt the three connections. He felt the combination, the mixing. It was very different from the way Felix mixed the powers. The Knight Captain punched his fist up to the sky and produced a plume of azure flames, crackling with lightning, howling with wind. That's it, Shane thought. A different type of draconic sorcery. Maybe it will work for me?
He reached out and established the same connections, combining them in the exact same way. He reached up with his palm, and released. A pillar of azure flame ripped up into the sky, a hundred, a thousand feet perhaps. Shane could not tell for certain. He turned to see Fintan trembling on the ground, his mouth hanging open, speechless.
"Chief of Chiefs," Fintan gasped. "I now appreciate the difference in strength between us. Tell me, master, how can I shapeshift? How can I soar the skies once more?"
Shane shook his head. "You will never be a drake again." He produced the book of engineering diagrams, and opened it to the page with the image of the airplane. "This machine of war is the only way you will be able to fly. Tell me, Fintan, where among the clans can I find masters of sorcery who can command metal and stone?"
"In the great cities," the Knight Captain replied.
"Where is the closest city?"
"To the south and east. Follow this river until it joins with three other rivers, and then follow the large river until it reaches the ocean. There you will find the smokestacks of great industry."
Shane cloaked himself in storm sorcery, and floated up into the sky. "Then I must be on my way. Listen now, I have orders."
"Chief of Chiefs, I await your command."
"Bring the other Knights to the Realms, teach them draconic sorcery as I have taught you. Then, travel to the village of the High Chief of Clan Caitria. Teach his Knights storm sorcery as well. I am the Chosen One. Speak true words of my arrival in this land."