Desdin and Keoma walked towards the flames of the forge. The flow of molten light and sparks warmly lit the features of their face and distinguished them as shady figures if anyone observed them afar. Desdin was reflective after looking back towards Ingrid and Stokely. “They are strong in their youth, but clearly shaken by the events here. Hopefully, these trials will change them for the better. I am sorry for the events happening here.”
Keoma scratched the back of his head. “You guys have the worst of the bad luck. I’m sure this would have been a catastrophe with or without your group showing up. What do you want to do now, Warden?”
Desdin, with confidence, answered, “I need three things to counter her. First, I need to learn exactly what is going on with Cherry and Demalyn. Afterwards, I will have to get them a message so that they will recognize when to react in tandem with me.”
Keoma blinked at Desdin. “Okay. No problem. I plan on fighting alongside you, of course. This is my home. I may have some plans of my own, but helping with yours shouldn’t disrupt me. I’ll visit with Hobe and Walstaff in the morning. Stokely and Ingrid will fill in for our missing council members, and hopefully we can shore up support from around town. We’ll figure out how to infiltrate the lodge. What’s next?
Desdin continued, “I need an open source of chrism to meditate in. A source at least as strong as what your people used at the funeral when we arrived here. This request isn’t necessary and I can’t exactly explain, but it is something personal to me.”
“We did test forging with chrism at one point but the products we made were fragile like glass. I can have someone open it back up for whatever reason you need it,” Keoma answered.
Then, looking plainly at Keoma, Desdin raised a finger to make a point. “Last, and most importantly for me, I need you to patch up my armor and my sword. At least to where it will hold together. I don’t expect you to have dragon scales or anything fancy, but I’m going to need to be as close to my best as possible”
“As for that, we are working on it now. My students are eager to learn about the Dragon’s Breath ore and how it comes to exist and its function. I was giving a lesson, but I have a favor of my own to ask. Would you do the honor of teaching them about the origin of Dragon’s Breath? It would be an honor for them to hear it from someone that is intimate with the Farlands.”
Desdin gestured with grace towards Keoma. “It would be my honor.”
Keoma instructed his men accordingly, and soon everyone in the forge gathered around the workstation. With a chain, Keoma raised the long sword from the forge's current. He began hammering away at it along with two others, causing sparks to spring out. Desdin started, “People of the Farland are a hearty race. We live high in the mountains to the north, where the air is thin and we are ever vigilant against the dangers of our harsh climate. We named the largest mountain the Dragon Throne. It is where she, The Dragon, slumbers for years at a time. The last of her kind. We believe her very breath imbues the air we breathe with the will to live. Our eyes shimmer when excited with the colors of life.” Desdin shut his eyes, breathed in deeply and focused for a moment before turning to the gathering with a red glow within his charcoal eyes.
He didn’t need the help of the sparks flying behind him to keep the rapt attention of the room. “When she takes flight once a decade, we venture to her throne, risking our lives in the dangerous journey. Collecting the scales, she discards and mining the ore within the mountain where her head rests. Her presence alters the precious minerals there into different colors. And each has a special property. We used the red ore in tempering bladed weapons. Its red sheen can cut even the flesh of presumed gods. We used the blue ore in all kinds of weapons, making them light as a feather. Yet when striking, it brings down the weight of the heavens. We used the yellow ore in bludgeoning slow weapons. Even when they miss their target, the surrounding area is thunderstruck, causing massive damage from the pressure and shock. There are other colored ores, but they are exceedingly rare and may appear once every hundred years or so.”
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The students were mesmerized, and no one dared to interrupt. “Forging any of these ores into weapons requires the heat of the Dragon’s forge, which sits at the base of the Dragon Throne. The flames of that forge have been flowing continuously for time immemorial. Your mighty kiln here would appear like a puddle of rain next to the one that is the pride of the world.”
Keoma smiled, giving Desdin a thumbs up. “My men and women here should be able to finish the rest of the work. I’ll lead you to the chrism forge chamber and come back to make sure the job is at least up to my polished standard.” Several of the group thanked Desdin as he left with Keoma.
When they left, Keoma’s tone shifted as he said, “I am aware that your group has its secrets. And being a part of this fight has brought the spirit back to my heart. But, man to man, why am I taking you to an open source of chrism?”
Desdin hesitated for a second before saying, “We all might die tomorrow. I have to convey something before I possibly go to my end. There is some ethereal thing watching me from the flow of chrism.”
Keoma stopped in his tracks and glowered at Desdin. “The direction you are going with this is troubling. I don’t think that I want to know more. I will help you with your plan to save Leoris. But you are raving mad. I am already aware you encountered Ivalic in battle. And I know you spent time in Ouren’s prison. Whatever happened to you has knocked some screws loose.”
Desdin looked at him defensively. “You asked. And I answered. If you have more to say, get it out.”
Keoma craned his neck to one side. “Thinking back on it, most of what the Farland believes, including Jonah, is pure madness. Desdin, you come dangerously close to sympathizing with the Fallen, those Devil Beasts, despite seeing what they are capable of here. You buy into the mythology of Dragsil, and those monsters even tore him apart. You revere the Dragon that is a barely living fossil. And you mock the very real miracles the Oldest and their descendants have brought us.”
Desdin countered, “You acknowledge the wonders of the Dragon yourself. You play at showing interest in our ways. You're afraid because of this conflict, I get it. I am too, but I am trying to be objective in my approach.”
Keoma scoffed, “I remember why I grew weary of the Black Wings now and why I settled down. You are right in some capacity. I respect your culture, but it has been nothing but self destructive dogma in my lifetime. I hope you heed my words in some capacity and wake up after we end this nightmare. For your own sanity.”
They walked the remaining part of the way in uncomfortable silence. Keoma flipped a switch and the dim light of chrism pouring out barely brought the shadows of the chamber to light. Keoma left Desdin there alone. He settled before the flow, staring at it while focusing on his breathing.
“Come on, I finally have something to say and you won’t show up?” He sat there staring until an uneven flow of time disrupted the chrism before him that wavered and danced. The chrism hummed in complete resonance, causing the room to vibrate harmoniously. He remained in place while the room was drifting further away. Outside of his peripheral vision, he could make out flashes and glimpses of an ethereal blue glow. Hands reached out before him from the darkness before her face emerged. And then the rest of her giant self took form. The chrism halted its flow, and she stood motionless before him, gazing at him.
“This is the closest you can come to me in the real world, is that it? I suppose I’ll find out if I talk to you here, if you will answer me later when I come as close to you as I can in that other world. The spider showed me one of Jonah’s memories. You were in it with Ouren and Dragsil. Jonah figured something out and could also see you, right? Ivalic kept him from reaching your secrets directly. So he went after the Roots of Dragsil to discover what the Oldest knew about the world. Dragsil hid the knowledge of the heavens in his roots. We, Jonah’s beloved disciples, will find them. If I survive dancing with the spider tomorrow, I’m going to pick up where he left off. And find out what the Oldest is hiding from us.”
She still stood motionless before Desdin as he stood up. The room seemed to return to a normal state. Fading away into blue tears of dust, she coalesced into the chrism that suddenly shined so brightly and rang at a frequency that both blinded and deafened Desdin momentarily. He leapt back and shielded his eyes as it cracked and shattered in a thunderous bang.
Keoma slung the door open a few moments later to find Desdin reeling. He motioned to some students to pick him up and take him back to the main room. Keoma looked over the room and the shards of chrism now shattered like glass all over the place. “By the name of the Oldest, what did you do?”
“I kept an open mind and tried to talk to one of your gods.” Desdin looked at Keoma and smiled. Keoma stood there with his mouth open with his head shaking in disbelief.