“And there’s no way of reasoning with her?”

“Physically impossible given the restraints, but even if it weren’t… what could we say?”

----------------------------------------

“Fire, foe, climb, whatever else you grumble, sparkle incorrectly…” Jair coughed and massaged his neck, though that did nothing to ease the feeling of Qahrvirna’s dragoncube being tightly lodged at the top of his throat. “I find items, objects hold where.”

Qahrvirna was still periodically giggling, though he’d been at it for hours now. At least he was able to make draconic word-sounds now, for a long time it only came out as nonsense.

They were almost out of Cyrindenth’s territory now, the mad dragon having swooped by a couple times just to be sure they still were the same people. Thankfully, she hadn’t tried to steal their legs again.

Jair was slowly getting the hang of the dragoncube, which was significantly more complicated than the standard lizardbox, and required a completely different technique to utilize.

Where the lizardbox amplified and changed the sounds he made to be different sounds, it was more akin to playing an instrument with a limited number of notes. The dragoncube was entirely internal and infinitely more complex.

To ‘speak’ he had to push mana and air into it and not try to make any sounds himself. If he did produce his own noise, it would garble over and confuse the speech rather than allowing it to smoothly pass. Some of the sounds required him to use the tongue to shape, but for the most part it was just keeping his head up and mouth open to disrupt the sound as little as possible.

“Orange sparkle?” Jair held out a hand. “Required.”

"I think you mean sparkle." Qahrvirna smothered her laughter long enough to hand him another vial. “I’ll have to charge you for all the ingredients, if you keep going at this rate.”

“I have find whatever you required,” Jair said carefully. As long as he had the dragoncube in, trying to speak anything but draconic would be futile.

“You need to tilt the ‘rrrge’ up at the end for future-tense. Right now it sounds like you’re a drunk dragon.”

“I will find whatever items you require.”

Qahrvirna nodded approvingly. “I must say, I’m impressed. I’ve never seen anyone make this much progress learning that so quickly.”

“I have else objects.” He held out the lizardbox.

Qahrvirna eyed it, her laughter turning disdainful. “I refuse to believe that you learned this much complexity on that thing.”

“I have not.” He pointed at his throat, then at the box, then moved his two hands together to meet in the middle. “Else objects.”

“Your accent is flawless, but your grammar is horrendous and your vocabulary is all over the place.”

“Consideration only beginning.”

“I am going to need that back soon,” she said, as they stopped descending and began to climb the last intermediary hill between the territories of Mount Cyrindenth and Mount Muegvygh. “I don’t trust your vocabulary for this negotiation.”

Jair nodded and forced the tiny cube up and out, coughing violently. “You ever consider making it round?”

The witch handed him another vial, this one containing a green liquid which tasted sharp and oily but felt soothing against the ragged tears in his throat. “It needs to be square. If we make it big enough in a sphere, you wouldn’t be able to get it down, and it would lose a good third of the functionality.”

“And why wouldn’t you tell me you have this?”

Qahrvirna raised an eyebrow. “If you think I was trying to hide it, you clearly don’t know me as well as you imagine.”

“But you don’t advertise it as a product. I never heard about it before.”

“Most people don’t want to feel like you do right now every day for months just to increase their potential vocabulary talking to violently territorial creatures better avoided entirely who can be communicated with by experts or hiring a translator.”

“It’s not that bad.” Jair coughed and swallowed another gulp of the oily green elixir.

“Don’t try to lie to a vampire about injuries, I can taste the blood on your breath.”

“I’m not denying I’m injured. Being able to speak to dragons is worth it, and it could be a lot worse.”

She gave him that look again, hunger and something close to possessiveness. “Typically we only make them for other vampires. If you’re interested in converting, I can get you in on the business.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. I usually find the most benefits from joining the Tsael clan, however, so you’ll need to up your offer a bit more if you want me to actually accept.”

Qahrvirna turned the dragoncube over in her hand, then raised one finger to her lips. “Name your price. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Unfortunately, what I want is not in your power to give. Unless you know a way to go back in time and slay a dragon before it eats my friend.”

“You speak of slaying dragons very carelessly for someone seeking passage.” Muegvygh chuckled and suddenly lit up in front of them, lying sprawled around the hill. Until then, he’d blended his silhouette so perfectly with the night landscape that even Jair had no idea it was there. Younger and smaller than the other two dragons, he was still over twice Ryenzo’s size. “I hope you’ve come to challenge me to a duel properly, rather than act as an assassin.”

“My feud is with a poison matriarch, not you or your kin.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Muegvygh blinked at him uncomprehendingly.

“You interrupted our conversation, that’s as much as admitting you can understand me.”

Qahrvirna shot him a panicked glance, then hastily swallowed the dragoncube and nearly choked trying to get it in place too quickly. “He says his feud is with a poison matriarch, and he has no ill intent towards you or your family.”

“Mmm,” Muegvygh growled low, contemplative. “No duel today, then?”

“We have brought tribute,” Jair said, holding up another of the sparkly objects, giving it a spin to catch the light from his staff.

“We bring a gift,” Qahrvirna translated, pointing. “No need for fighting.”

“Then we will have a different game!” Muegvygh rolled over on his back, watching them upside-down with a many-toothed grin. “Riddles!”

Qahrvirna grimaced. “Is that necessary?”

Muegvygh kicked his feet in the air, causing a minor earthquake as he wiggled excitedly. “Yes! Riddles! Or duel.” He rolled over on his side. “If you prefer fighting.”

“Riddles sounds blue weight.” Qahrvirna coughed and hastily drank another orange potion. “Delightful. Riddles would be delightful. Go ahead.”

Muegvygh asked immediately, “What city do all dragons reside in?”

Qahrvirna looked at Jair.

Jair looked at Qahrvirna.

They both looked at Muegvygh. The dragon continued to grin, lines of fire pulsing up and down his length as he lay sprawled out between the hills.

“Majesty,” Jair said, a distant memory flickering to the fore. “Full possessive.”

Qahrvirna raised an eyebrow at him.

“Say it,” Jair urged.

“Majesty,” she translated, confused.

Muegvygh was delighted, slapping the ground with one clawed hand and creating a small crater. “Ahahaha, you are wise! What is the first claw of a forest?”

That one translated even worse, but Muegvygh was nothing if not reliable.

“Say ‘a river,’ then correct yourself to ‘winter’.”

“A river?”

Muegvygh tilted his head.

“No, winter,” Qahrvirna added quickly.

“A river is the lash of the tail,” Jair told her, and she repeated it in draconic.

“Indeed it is! Your turn.”

Qahrvirna looked pained at the thought. “Can we just offer you this glorious tribute instead and go on our way? I am not as clever with words as you are and I’ve been away from home too long already.”

“Oh, very well.” The dragon rolled up and over the hill, clearing the path in front of them. "But next time you come through, you must bring me a riddle."

Jair handed him the gold and jeweled bauble, which the dragon promptly puffed on to melt and twisted around his claw like an oddly-shaped ring.

Muegvygh grinned sideways at him as he walked by. “Remember, if you decide to try your hand at dragonslaying, come and challenge me. I’ll go easy on you.”

“You certainly do seem like a trustworthy sort,” Jair told him. “We should get together sometime and talk about philosophy.”

Muegvygh’s attempt at a blank look was broken by a violent shudder, as he backed his head away from Jair with a disgusted hiss.

“Not going to say anything?”

Torn between the chance to have the last word, or the tacit admission he’d taken the time to learn how to speak with mortals, Muegvygh’s pride was going to take a hit either way. He chose to defend himself rather than take the usual draconic stance of dignified ignorance.

“Philosophy is evil. But I can teach you riddles.”

“I’d debate you on that.”

Muegvygh snorted. Having said his piece, he went back to pretending he couldn’t understand Jair, toying with his still soft tribute-ring and ignoring the visitors.

Jair chuckled and waved his staff in farewell, then set out across the hills.

Qahrvirna stared at him like he’d lost his mind, but waited until they could no longer see the dim glowing outline of Muegvygh behind them before coughing up her dragoncube so they could talk properly.

“You’re insane,” she said, wonderingly. “You say I provoke dragons. You tried to goad him into a fight how many times? We’re lucky he didn’t roast us on the spot.”

“There’s a trick to insanity,” Jair said flippantly. “Know your enemy.”

“That’s just good sense in general.”

“And Muegvygh is playful and absurd. Meet him where he is. Easiest way to make friends.”

“Eythron gets you for how long?”

Jair laughed. “Until he stops trying to kill me and gets around to telling me what I need to know to advance my class.”

“You’re already ascendant. What more advancement can there be?”

“My ascension is… complicated. The outcome was about as far from standard as you could imagine, and Eythron is the only person I know who cares so much about the inner workings of my class.”

“Isn’t there a whole school for mageblades somewhere? Almas, I think?”

“Yes, Almas. Veor, to be specific.” Jair snorted derisively. “I’ve been there. It’s less helpful than you’d imagine. A bunch of retired reforged or disillusioned aspirants who never made it further than initiate. Cross-disciplinary classes like mageblade have much stricter advancement requirements, and not everyone can keep up. The Institute is good for getting the initial class requirements out of the way, but not much beyond that.”

“And those riddles?” Qahrvirna said, ignoring Jair’s minor rant about the Institute. “They didn’t even make sense, how did you guess the answers?”

“He likes to use the same ones. I’ve heard them before.”

“You don’t know Muegvygh if you think that. He was clearly proud of himself for just coming up with them. I bet you he’s been working on them the whole time I was with Emyxnar.”

“Perhaps he stole them from a book.” Jair’s delivery was fully sincere, betraying none of his awareness of Muegvygh’s status as the opposite of scholarly.

“You’re telling me that a great dragon used riddles found in human literature?”

“He clearly understood me.” Jair shrugged. “Guess he got bored and spent a bit too much time chatting with his princesses.”

“Even if he did learn our language, he looked far too proud of himself for those so-called riddles. They only make sense—and I use the term very loosely—in draconic.”

Jair shook his head. “Majesty and City sound nothing alike in draconic. At least in our language they kind of rhyme. Which, I think, is the point. He was making a meta riddle that could only be solved by someone fluent in both, and he finds it incredibly clever.”

“So you solve his impossible riddles, then proceed to taunt him? It takes a lot to scare me, but I was sure you were going to get us toasted.”

Jair smiled and waved his glowing staff mysteriously in front of him, affecting a wise elder’s tone. “It’s easy for things to get lost in translation, but if you know how someone thinks, you don’t need to know how it translates. I know Muegvygh. He would never hurt me.” Then he dropped back to his normal voice to add, “As long as I never accept his offer to duel.”

“I know Emyxnar and Cyrindenth pretty well, for dragons, but what you’re talking about is something else entirely. Who are you?”

“Jair Welburne, Elect of the Frozen Wind, Heir of Firelight, and Brother of The Ignis. Among other things.”

Qahrvirna was dead silent for several strides. “What are you… no human could possibly attain half those titles, even if they lived a thousand years.”

“They would be very difficult to accrue on the first try without a single death, yes. But it’s not impossible. It can be done in seven years, if you know exactly what you’re doing.”

“How… and why? Brother of The Ignis? What use could that be to someone like…” she waved a hand, indicating Jair’s young and magically flimsy body. “Or was it in a past form?”

“There are some effects that cannot be obtained by force. When I first reforged my sword…” Jair shook his head. “The details don’t matter, and it’s a very long story. Suffice it to say that I spent those seven years obtaining the exact items I needed as quickly as possible despite seemingly insurmountable obstacles in my way, because I need my sword at its best to deal with an even more insurmountable obstacle.”

Qahrvirna sounded uncharacteristically serious when she replied, “So, Eythron.”

“Yes. Eythron. I cannot accept any flaw in my weapon, not if I can correct it. Even if it takes another seven years.” Again, and again…

“Good thing I’m immortal, or I may die of impatience.”

Jair shrugged. “You have my word, I’ll do whatever you ask for, as long as I get what I need first.”

“That’s normally my line,” Qahrvirna practically purred, temporary seriousness gone as quickly as it had come.

“Has anyone ever told you that you do a good job of scaring people off?”

“Never.”

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