Dragon Core

by Sain Artwell

  “Hmm… Not really. I think I know what I need to do, but go ahead.”

  “For many long years, I was blind, unable to see I’d been bred and built into a tool. My payment was not in wealth, nor love, but in a sense of purpose given to me, and with it I was led astray. I love Mlevanosk, but you should realize she groomed your growth at every step, teaching you specific knowledge and skills to guide your curiosity, merely so you’d have the tools and inclination to succeed her legacy. You may feel you owe her, but you do not. Contemplate upon this duty she left, before you bind yourself to it.”

  For moments, her face was blank, then cracked by a chuckle. “That’s… Yeah, that’s a way to put it. Apologies, I don’t mean to belittle your wisdom, it is much appreciated. I didn’t pause to think that, but yes. I can see it now. However, with all due respect, I’m going to disregard your advice. You do realize you’re speaking to a proudly suicidal cultist here? I’m practically addicted to impossible things greater than my own life.”

  “With due respect, you are the most self-conscious gullible fool I’ve met,” said Alron, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

  Sofi returned a winsome grin. “And, of all the jaded nihilists I know, you work hardest to pretend that’s all you are.”

  “Careful with that trail of thought,” warned Fei, “Of the countless women who’ve sought to ‘repair’ my Alron, I’m the only one to have survived the consequences.”

  “Please be understanding, I meant nothing by it.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you didn’t…” Fei’s gaze lingered on Sofi. And you claim she’s no idiot.

  You’re awfully suspicious of her, for someone who’s so eagerly encouraged me to take her as mine.

  Before, she was a useful tool. Now, she’s a dead weight to us in combat, a dead weight with a pair of alluring personalities—the most dangerous of all distractions.

  Indeed… But perhaps enduring such danger was not without merit. Apocalypse was a great boon to Alron’s might, but its strength was rigid, incomparable to the versatile power he’d hoped to regain from re-bonding with Mlevanosk’s. It’d granted him victory against Rasdrev, Kastalos, and a great number of foes, but, if given time, the Ascendancy would adapt. It always did. Alron himself was a living proof of that. Though he had a head-start in brute strength, which he could press for a while, the Ascendancy’s vast resources would eventually outpace him. In this war, time was not his ally.

  Furthermore, losing Mlevanosk illuminated the cracks in Alron’s plans to re-assemble his old harem. No matter how he struggled, no matter how he required their strength, or wished to see them again, Oqhizt of Yvaria might remain forever beyond his reach. Perhaps this all would end with just him and Fei against the world.

  He’d have to explore the limits of dragonization, and do so with haste. To that end, Sofi’s insights into vis could prove crucial.

  “Sofi, I propose a trade,” began Alron. The cheer in her eyes turned to focus, and Alron continued, “Being a broken dragongod has granted me a certain intuitive understanding of myth, which Mlevanosk has likely missed. Accompany us for a year, lend me your and Mlevanosk’s knowledge, aid me in refining my dragongod powers. In turn, I pledge to aid your research in equal measure.”

  “Heh. I knew you were hiding something.”

  “Given I had no words for myth, nor knowledge of it, they were not insights I could’ve easily explained.”

  Sofi’s eyes shifted rapidly across her scribbled notes. She laid down her stylus, breathing deep, continuing to weigh the offer. “It’s tempting, very tempting… extremely so. I suppose this arrangement would include some perks.”

  She means sex.

  I know what she means, Fei.

  Alron gave Sofi a suggestive raise of brows, an amused huff, and a nod. “As time permits.”

  She licked her lip, visibly struggling to suppress a bundle of emotions. With a deep sigh, and a nervous swallow, Sofi finally pressed on, “Please be understanding, but I have to say no. Mlevanosk’s words, though they didn’t answer my every question, gave me a direction. I do sympathize with your vengeance, but I would die inside if I followed you and watched you destroy Ascendancy. Not to mention, if I were to meet your daughter again… I’m not sure what I would do. Apologies. I’m too soft to walk that path.”

  “Understandable,” said Alron, disappointment weighting his faint smile.

  Sofi hurried to speak. “Again, apologies. This is awfully selfish of me, but, could you take me outside the City when you leave? Any of the northern settlements would do. I already packed my belongings and travel essentials.” Sofi patted a bag containing, among various tools, a hand cannon and a starsteel knife.

  “Stars bless your gall,” said Fei blankly.

  “Apologies.”

  “No need to apologize. It is not a great inconvenience. Let this be recompensation for my inability to grant your first wish.”

  Sofi’s lips wrinkled awkwardly. “Ha-ha… Yes. That. Thank you for reminding me.”

  “My pleasure. Now, if neither of you has more matters to attend to within the City…” Alron retrieved Apocalypse, his jadegold glaive, and a heavy stack of clothes, which he dragonized into armor and wings. “Let us fly.”

  ***

  A day’s flight west of Blackmetal City, and half hour’s flight south of the small town of Vjenatsforge, Alron and Fei glided through thick black clouds. Thunder cracked around them. Flakes of ash and metal rapped against Alron’s armored face.

  A recent goodbye hung on their minds. They’d brought ruin to Blackmetal City and killed two of the four responsible for their last century, but also lost two dear companions. Neither dwelled too deeply on this thought, or if Fei did in the hidden recesses of her mind, she kept it to herself.

  Even without Oqhizt and Yuvera, do you think we can win?

  Alron weighed their odds. Dente’s power is sure to grow. She will be the vanguard of any real offensive launched against us, or the crux of their final defence. Should we face her with the Knights of Myrwing or Sorcerer King on her side, we could no longer afford to show her mercy. Can you bring yourself to kill her, if you must?

  You told her we’d only kill her lovers.

  I spoke those words to hold myself back. They were said without considering what we are, she and I. We stand the cusp of ascension, held back only by our bonds. Cut them loose, and a dragongod is unleashed. You cannot kill either of us safely without killing our bonds first.

  For a time of several thunder strikes, they glided through the clouds without a word. Red lightning flashed. The question remained unanswered.

  They knew this, and shot me regardless. If I’d died, you’d have ascended and Blackmetal City would be gone.

  Perhaps that was their design.

  Even if bringing down a dragongod would cost them so much more? Do you think it was an accident, a moment’s recklessness? Dente’s companions are young. They may believe in their chances to defeat you after draconic ascension.

  Sorcerer King is not that careless.

  You suspect we’re being dangled by his claw…

  Almost certainly. He is the greatest oracle of the Ascendancy, and is backed by the stars themselves. So long as his ambitions remain unknown to us, our every step has a chance of being predetermined by him.

  Stars save us… Or not. You get the gist. What could he possibly gain from the destruction of the Ascendancy? Is this some mind game to trick us into giving up vengeance?

  Alron laughed with the thunder. Perhaps it is merely a game of politics, him plotting against the other sovereigns to consolidate power. Perhaps not. Regardless, our path remains set. If Oqhizt truly died, not even Sorcerer King could anticipate her revival. Let him craft his plots and consult his stars. He will find that, when claws clash, all elaborate schemes fold before sufficient violence.

  He meant it too, every word. Alron didn’t know where his confidence swelled from, but whilst grasping the handle of Apocalypse he knew, rather than believed, th
at he would be victorious.

  Clouds dispersed into thinner hills of mist as Alron and Fei emerged from the stormfront. Before them stretched a landscape of multicolored salts and black rivers, cascading from the cloud-piercing shape of Abyssmaw’s skull. Beyond the skull lie the vast Blood Jungles, which covered much of the Hungering One’s corpse. Veiled by Fei’s invisible flames, carried by the strongest wings in the world, they crossed these lands undetected.

  Chapter 24 - Immortal Memories

  Shouts of rage and resentment roared between the burning forges of Blackmetal City, their chaotic song punctuated by arrhythmic bursts of cannonfire. Wyrmkin draped in red cloaks, rags, and armor raised bloodstained swords and hand cannons high in the air in cheer. One by one, chained members of the clan Nvomsk were dropped into a cauldron filled with molten metal. Children, young, the faithful servants, and clan elders—all who the mob could catch were boiled alive in molten metal.

  Sorcerer King didn’t pause to watch nor interfere, but continued straight down a street drenched by leaking ductwork above it. Windows were broken, doors kicked in. A group of deepkin bandits dragged riches out of a store and into a sewage drain. No one acknowledged Sorcerer King’s presence. The bandits parted before her, as if she were an invisible boulder parting a stream. Sorcerer King kept walking.

  Up ahead were two armored wyrmkin locked in pitched battle of life and death. Black, their figures glistened with reflections of the burning city. Smoke and fire shot from the exhausts behind their necks. Clashing with thunderous might, cracking the buildings and pavement with each blow, they battled. If symbols of their armor were to be believed, the man was the patriarch of clan Nvmosk, and the woman the heiress of clan Sjerinov. Sorcerer King walked through their bout to an unmarked door of unremarkable design, and entered a lightless flight of metal stairs.

  The civil war playing across Blackmetal City was well planned and expertly executed. Only a mind attuned to interpreting the alignments of stars could see the ripples beneath the waves, the patterns of careful design hidden beneath this chaos. And to predict where those ripples converged? That required a mind blessed by the stars.

  Sorcerer King stepped into a half-submerged tunnel. Pale dragonfire lantern glowed ahead, behind a corner. Its light illuminated the hunched back of a neckless creature wrought from blackmetal. It worked with tubes and vials filled with transparent fluid, unaware of Sorcerer King’s presence until the moment she spoke.

  “Stars bless tonight, I’d feared you died.” She did not bother altering her voice.

  The metal creature spun around, a starsteel blade trained at Sorcerer King. She flicked her claw. The starsteel melted and fell. Only a pool of dark liquid reflecting the night sky remained, floating on water.

  “Sorcerer King, in flesh.” Though the cadence of his speech remained the same, Rasdrev’s pleasant fatherly voice was gone, replaced by a croak that sounded like his throat was coated in rust. “You did a marvelous job hiding the old King’s departure as long as you did. In retrospect, it seems so obvious, but I truly suspected nothing. Congratulations on the successful transplantation.”

  “Why thank you.”

  “I must admit, as far as coronation celebrations go, you caught me at an unfortunate time, though I suspect that is no coincidence. Perhaps we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

  Sorcerer King smiled an icy smile. “Perhaps. Must say I’m impressed by your trick. Tell me, did you divide your brain by surgical means, or how are you able to control multiple bodies at once?”

  “By sleight of hand. A combination of correct vestiges, receptive brains soaked in carefully balanced alchemical brews to enhance their receptiveness. It’s nothing too fantastic, and there are drawbacks.” Rasdrev’s metallic claw brushed over the ochre tube hanging from his hip. Pale blue jewels twitched on its surface like gemstone eyes. At once, Sorcerer King recognized them as a collection of vestiges used in controlling vestigeless slaves and lesser beasts.

  Sceptical, she glanced at a dark corridor. “Clever. But, even so, that only explains how you’re able to possess one body at a time.”

  “I switch my cartridge from body to body. The combination creates an illusion of multitude,” Rasdrev explained.

  “Fascinating.” Sorcerer King narrowed her eyes, peering into the dark corridor. Gazing into the near future, she saw ripples caused by a metal creature she’d foreseen. Ten flickers from now, it rounded the darkened corner and waded water towards them. “Then, who is that?” she asked, the moment the figure became visible.

  Rasdrev turned. They watched a bulky frame fill the corridor. Beside its worn armor and chipped weapons, it was indistinguishable from the countless other metal warriors Rasdrev had created. Silent, with determined footsteps, the intruder approached. It paused at the precipice to the room where Sorcerer King stood, ignored her, and turned to slowly march towards Rasdrev. Two armored figures, two sets of ripples. This was the pattern she’d seen. Ripples within ripples, one hidden beneath the other.

  “Impossible…” Rasdrev took a step back. He inserted the Eyes of Dominion into a slot in his chest. A sapphire glow filled the eyes, and Sorcerer King felt the tendril of draconic-vis in the air, as Rasdrev reached out towards the intruder. Sorcerer King swung her starsteel-coated claw and cut the tendril off.

  “Don’t be rude,” she said, raising a claw before Rasdrev. Sorcerer King watched the intruder approach. “Greetings, stranger. I am the Sorcerer King, ruler of the Ascendancy and chosen of the stars. Introduce yourself, and perhaps we can ensure our ambitions don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

  It ignored her, continuing towards Rasdrev. Sorcerer King frowned.

  “It is a simple patrol sentinel with a malfunctioning brain. No one knows of this place,” said Rasdrev, taking another step back. The other sentinel opened a locked hatch on its back, and drew out a long fleshy tendril, which twinkled with faint pulses of light. For the second time, Rasdrev said, “Impossible…”

  Sorcerer King studied the tendril through her oracle’s eyes. Vis coursed through it in structured pulses, containing whispered memories of numbers and names. Whispers and memories in a voice she’d heard long ago.

  “Mlevanosk?” Sorcerer King gasped.

  “Not in person. She died, that much is certain. That leaves only the possibility of her… No. It would be impossible. Certain allowances were made for her followers, but security of her vault did not permit interaction with sentinels. Only I had direct access to her nerve cable. Unless she… Ah. Marvelous. You truly were a marvelous woman, my dear Mlevanosk. How foolish of me to trust countermeasures you helped to design.” Rasdrev lunged for the intruder, but it caught his pneumatic claw. Steam hissed out of the two mechanical monsters as they grappled, Rasdrev’s vessel quickly proving itself outmatched by its foe.

  “Sorcerer King. I will share all my secrets with you, if you save me. All the blueprints and designs to raise an army of hollow sentinels capable of conquering the entire planet,” said Rasdrev, his voice measured and steady despite impending doom.

  “I’d rather watch you die,” she replied cheerfully.

  “Ah? That is unfortunate.”

  “Quite so. But, if you know how I may negotiate with Mlevanosk, I might make concessions in your favor.”

  One of Rasdrev’s metallic limbs broke under pressure. He managed to stop the glowing cable, but was left at a disadvantage of one limb. Emotionless, his opponent unlocked a small hatch in Rasdrev’s vessel’s neck, and pulled out a matching cable.

  “I’m afraid that is impossible.”

  “Then, I’m afraid I can’t offer you anything.”

  “I see. If that is your final offer…” Rasdrev released his grip.

  The two cables connected. Vis encoded with memories flooded into Rasdrev’s vessel. A grating scream of rusted metal filled the flooded tunnel. Pneumatic limbs twitched into unnatural angles as he convulsed.

  It lasted no longer than a flicker. As suddenly as he’d
screamed, Rasdrev fell silent. Sorcerer King saw through her oracle’s sight how a mind once racing with thoughts and ideas dulled. Rasdrev became as the other sentinel was, a lobotomized slave reduced to a lifetime of half-existence within his metal coffin.

  Intriguing. He was not a man of principle, or honor, or spite. For one as obsessed with self-preservation as him, to accept death meant he’d seen no way out. Either he’d not known how Sorcerer King could reach Mlevanosk, or thought the task impossible, which meant Mlevanosk was truly dead and impossible to communicate with. This, in combination with the mastery she’d displayed of memory manipulation, had worrying implications.

  Sorcerer King watched the two sentinels disengage from their grapple, eyes turning towards her. Pneumatics hissed and the two metal giants launched across the room, their claws tearing her to bloody shreds, in her future sight anyway.

  Before reality caught up to her vision, Sorcerer King plunged the minds of two sentinels into blackness with a sensory collapse. They stumbled, but resisted. She leaned into a lunge, pouring vis into the pulsing piece of a Stargod within her, forging from her vis a long, thin blade of starsteel. Seeing futures and present at once, all she had to do was place the blade just so. Both sentinels impaled themselves on their own weight. Brains within them died instantly. Yet, the new threat remained, gnawing at Sorcerer King’s composure.

  For decades, she’d allowed Mlevanosk to operate under Rasdrev’s care, believing her influence limited to a small number of cultists. Instead, she’d hidden her designs within the tug-of-war between two seemingly opposing sides working together—herself and Rasdrev. All this time, she’d had access to Rasdrev’s sentinels, and who knows what else. And now, upon her death, Mlevanosk had become a fearsome thing indeed.

  She was an agenda without an ego, a collection of memories working on predetermined paths, ideas seeded into hearts, and impulses hidden in the subconscious of minds, scattered across untold numbers of wyrmkin and vestiges.

  There was no one to interrogate, and no one to spy on. Neither her agency, her allegiances, nor her reach could be determined. She was not with the dragongods, that much was certain. But had she known anything? Had she set contingencies against Sorcerer King? Briefly, Sorcerer King cursed herself for allowing Alron to attempt rescuing Mlevanosk. If his wrath was compromised, everything could fall apart.