Chapter 11

He’d never had children of his own, at least, not that he could remember. He did, however, remember his mother—what she’d had to do, and even what she would have done, to ensure his future. Since then, he’d watched more families come and go than he’d ever care to count. More often than not, the mothers were all the same as his. But what he didn’t think anyone had ever noticed was just how far a son would go to protect his mother.

The walk through the hills had been unpleasant, to say the least. Half-hobbling over rocks and through shrubs while clinging to a cane was no easy task. His arm and leg were withered, likely without recourse, but such was the price of survival. If humanity ever knew the truth, they’d thank him for it. Ken though... Jacob stopped and leaned on a tree for rest. His eyes settled on a cloud, a puffy white dog chasing its tail in the breeze. Ken was smart. Jacob looked at the dirt. Ken was intentionally ignorant. If he had any real sense of responsibility, he’d have helped. They could have worked together. Humanity would stop them eventually, and only then would they be ready for the Dragons. What weight would a few thousand lives have when regular people had what they needed to save billions from dragon-fire? It didn’t matter now. Ken was gone. Jacob would have to teach the people himself. Although, even that was plan B now. The Dragons were here. The Seers found the first one. It was safe, for now. Jacob looked through the trees; there was a cabin not so far away.

Jacob pushed through his exhaustion, through his pain, and stood at the cabin’s doorstep. The soul-sight flooded his eyes. Through the wall, he could see two souls. One was a woman, a leader’s soul; she was sad, stressed, and distracted. Her intent was focused on the soul in front of her, so much so that her own soul seemed to reach out and wrap around it. It was a child, probably a boy. His was a soul Jacob had never seen before, but he expected that. The child’s soul was not one of the eight types found in normal people. That could only be a Dragon soul. The Dragon was tense, worried. His intent was more on the woman than hers was on him. Where her soul seemed to wrap around his, his soul was completely formed around her like a bubble.

Jacob lifted his cane and rapped on the door, the knocks to the tune of “shave and a haircut.” Suddenly, the souls focused in his direction, at the door. He knocked again. The Dragon put itself in front of the woman. Jacob found it odd; power usually rushed out from its origin point, but this kid was giving him nothing. Nothing but a strange sense of dread in his stomach. He could feel it, the child’s soul sight was boring into him, clawing at his being for every emotion and intent Jacob had. The child’s soul tightened and thickened its bubble around the woman, her own soul barely shining through the shield the boy intended to provide. In this, Jacob decided to test the child, to prod for a weakness. If this Dragon was so attached to her, then he’d kill her. Her death would likely break the child, and by the time Jacob hobbled off this God-forsaken hill, there’d only be one Dragon left to slay. He settled on the thought, but no sooner had he made that decision did the boy’s intent shift entirely, almost painfully, at him. The intent behind it was shockingly violent. Then Jacob felt it. Another intent, one matching the boy’s. Then he saw it, the hand on the child’s shoulder. Slowly, a head appeared from behind the boy, as if it were rising out of him. This soul was another unlike Jacob had ever seen, bleach white, were it not for strange, tendril-like lines running across it, lines that matched the Dragon’s soul. More of the head emerged. A drop of sweat ran down Jacob’s back. The soul, unlike any other soul he’d ever lain eyes on, had eyes. Endlessly deep, black, swirling at their edges, and staring right at him. The rest came in a blur: the torso, wings, and, as its right hand emerged, a sword. The strange soul swung the only soul blade on earth, and a tremendous golden flame erupted from the entire front wall of the cabin.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Jacob launched himself backward, slamming into the dirt as the wall of assumed oblivion rushed over his nose. Jacob heard a woman shouting, and a little boy opened the unscathed door. The boy’s voice was sharp, angry, and seemingly blended with one much deeper than his appearance would imply. “Jacob Kergin. Leave.”

“Come now, boy, surely you know I can’t do that. If you know who I am, you must know why I’m here.” Jacob sank into the hill, an easy illusion to sniff out, but he needed a moment. He reached out, and threads of soul and magic erupted from his fingers and latched into the hearts of the puppets he’d brought with him. He knew it would be a surprise for the boy, for two more people to suddenly appear and attack him. Jacob watched through the eyes of his creations as the Dragon noticed the appearance of the extra souls. He activated their soul sight and they leapt at the boy from the tree line. Jacob watched through three sets of eyes as the otherwise invisible, winged swordsman flicked his wrist. There was no fire this time, but a shockwave from the motion ripped his puppets apart and chewed apart the ground in front of the child for a hundred yards or more. The horrific thunderclap echoed through the Italian hills.

The boy looked at him again; he’d sniffed Jacob out, as anticipated. This time, there was less blend in his voice, the child’s voice was less prominent. “You’ve made your choice, Kergin. I warned the boy as such.” It was then, for the first time since Jacob had arrived, that the boy’s power flowed from him. It flooded the hills, drowned out everything for as far as Jacob could see or sense. Now there was only the Dragon and Jacob.

This was no longer about killing the Dragon. This wasn’t about the woman or saving humanity. This was about survival. Jacob stuck his arms into the dirt, his weak, withered fingers bled as he pushed them into the earth. Again, soul strings flew from his fingertips, but this time, they latched onto every spare body he could find. With numbers, he’d lose minute control, but he only needed the numbers. The first to emerge were the recently deceased, the well-preserved. His threads found animals too, and the bones of soldiers who’d died nearby. In only moments, thirty corpses were rushing at the child, Jacob’s puppet spell working to rebuild enough of their bodies to allow them to move and strike. He wasn’t strong enough to do this at such scale so quickly, so again, his weakened arm began to tighten and shrivel as the spell took what he was demanding of it directly from his body.

The corpse parade rushed the cabin, but another swing of the spirit’s blade sent another ethereal wall of golden fire down the hill. Jacob saw through the puppets’ eyes as the ones he was unable to steer away erupted in towers of matching brilliant golden fire. But he was making his escape under the veil of an even simpler replacement-style illusion he’d left behind. Another explosion, another wall of fire. Jacob watched that boy, standing motionless in his doorway, decimate his plan A. There was no killing these Dragons. Not alone.