by Prax Venter
“What is this?” the creature who had to be the king demanded, an air of practiced authority behind his words.
“Beautiful danger!” someone called out from the group of on-lookers to Mark’s right.
“Indecent!”
“Did the minstrels summon them?”
“Destroy the invaders!” shouted another from the foot of the throne, and a hush fell over everyone in the expansive hall. “It’s the only way to be safe.”
As he slowly rose to his feet, Mark held up his hands and was about to tell everyone to calm the fuck down when Amina stepped forward and sunk to her knees.
At first, Mark thought it was the ambient tint that shaded everything red under the dome of the Red Tortoises, but he just now noticed that all the sleek black salamander warriors he’d come to know as having neon-blue eyes and markings had changed… They now had glowing red eyes and red markings.
“Strange ruler, I beg you,” the chieftain’s daughter said, her stubby muzzle pressed into the crystal floor and her thick tail tucked between her round ass cheeks, “I know not where I am. All we are has been taken. Do not end the last of the Awysai.”
The sheer amount of sorrow and defeat pumping out of Amina had a physical impact on Mark’s heart and the mood in the royal chamber shifted from confused panic to curious stillness. He’d hoped the others, including her father, were being held somewhere else, but the profound loss flowing from Amina informed him that this was indeed all that remained of her people.
He gazed around at these Wrongside salamanders with neon-green markings and he was almost certain they were biologically related to the Awysai. By the look of their elegant clothes and pompous faces, their culture seemed radically different to their nude, warrior counterparts. Some of them were even severely overweight.
One of the more physically fit ones standing near the king and queen moved forward and down the few steps to approach Amina, his lime-hued eyes never leaving her. He wore an elaborate tunic with no sleeves and gold bands tight around his solid biceps. With clothes on, the neon-green patterns on his onyx skin looked more like tribal tattoos as opposed to the runic engravings of the Awysai’s markings. When she saw his wide feet stop in front of her, she lifted her head to look up at him.
The male creature quickly knelt and offered her his hand. They clasped forearms and both rose together.
Mark’s emotional antenna felt both incredible awe and the adrenaline of desire from the male before he spoke.
“Be still, heavenly dragon,” he said, his voice calm and soothing. “I have never dreamt a being so sublime could ever exist. Rise, and share your story.”
“Begin with what threat you bring upon us, dragon,” the female with the crystal crown added as she sat back down on her throne. “This creature’s striking body may have you spellbound, my son, and their dramatic appearance denotes unprecedented power, but her wounds speak volumes of mortal conflicts.”
Mark got the sense that this green “wrong-wysai” queen was not only the true leader here, but that she was fiercely intelligent. He wondered if he should just let Amina handle this, yet he could sense that she was mentally and physically about to collapse. She also didn’t really know where to begin.
Mark held up his hand.
“Your grace,” he said, hoping the title made sense for these people. Every sleek salamander from either dimension immediately snapped their neon eyes to him- except Amina and the guy who Mark assumed was their prince. They still stood clasping their three-fingered hands on each other’s firm arms and staring into each other’s eyes. He continued.
“I am a Collector and a Lover. I’m also the one that can best answer all your questions. But first, may I please be allowed to heal these tortured people?”
He could have just done it, but the collective minds of the creatures around him projected the appreciation for his due respect. The male Mark thought of as the king looked over at his partner and whispered something he couldn’t make out.
However, this matriarch held her luminous green eyes locked on Mark’s as she assessed what or who he was. That focused connection was all he needed to dive into her alien mind for a sense of what they’d stumbled into here.
An image of a vibrant, ruby-crusted chamber like the inside of a geode expanded within his perception. In the center of this space bounced an erratic line of red energy, refracting for eternity, zipping off in random directions as if it were a trapped laser. This beam was the core of their whole society. These wrong-wysai didn’t exactly worship it, but they had a symbiotic relationship akin to a farmer tending to livestock.
Now that Mark had a base point to start from, the layout of her thoughts and history began to fall in line as if he’d completed the edges of a puzzle.
Her title was Sovereign, and her name was Fayllencia. Outsiders called them Red Tortoises over their reclusive nature and the ruby armor they wore. But the name they had for themselves was Blazar.
These black-and-green salamanders from the Wrongside had long ago realized that if they stored unique red-hued objects in the vast underground space where the beam lived, it reciprocated by creating the red shield of energy that kept them safe- and the dome on this side of reality was orders of magnitude larger than what the primitive Awysai had built. Additionally, any creature entering the beam’s chamber became fully healed and their food and water needs were left completely satiated.
Sovereign Fayllencia knew this eternal sustenance had the side effect of influencing her people to hold an intense appreciation for red hues themselves but felt it was worth the benefits. It had been this way for her whole life and for all rulers before her in recorded history. In this vast dry wasteland of the Wrongside, food and water were scarce, but the beam provided everything they needed. That was fortunate because they were currently under siege… And had been for decades.
They’d done something to anger some ancient, mindless evil, and no Blazar had left their protective dome since.
Mark wanted to know more because this enemy siege situation was exactly what the king person was whispering about, but the Sovereign had erected hardened mental blocks around the issue. Denial, regret, and violent embarrassment constricted around Mark’s mind, and although this was all a vision and happening in over the span of a single heartbeat, her devout national pride nearly suffocated him for getting too close to whatever truth she hid.
Mark snapped back into his own skull and involuntarily sucked in a deep breath.
Sovereign Fayllencia considered him a moment longer then nodded once, giving consent to the healing he’d asked to perform.
After clearing his mind, Mark focused on his strong desire to help the Awysai. What had happened to them was technically his fault, both Sasha and Jezebel felt it far worse for their role in what they had done to the Helper Fairy AI. Both of his horned beauties turned to face him, their bond allowing them each to lend their anger and remorse to help fuel the power of his ability.
He wasn’t as practiced at mass healing, but with the three of them unified under one will, he could tell he was nearing that higher level of perception he’d been flirting with lately. Mark forced the cresting wavelengths of their thoughts to align then opened his eyes and unleashed his bright Lover’s energy in the form of a torrential indoor downpour.
Not only were all the Awysai refugees fully restored, but moans of surprised pleasure filled the room as everyone in the royal hall felt the inconceivable power of Mark’s healing bliss.
When it was over, the Blazar began murmuring amongst themselves again, but this time there were no calls for their destruction.
“Now that I am not distracted by the beauty of these mythological lusty dragons,” Fayllencia began, her green eyes narrow. “I notice that you are the Lover, the Succubus, the Druid, and the Abyssal Horror we were warned about only days ago…”
Mark knew this had to be coming, but he didn’t sense any ill will from this woman.
“That is correct, Sovereign,” he said
quickly. “These dragons, as you call them, are your counterparts from a mirrored dimension. Her name is Amina, and her people helped us when we first arrived in your world. Because of their hospitality and friendship, they were occupied by the military of a neighboring society to get to us. We risked everything to rescue them and escape here.” Mark paused and turned to look out over the Blazar knights and supposed nobility around them. “We are not destroyers. Quite the opposite, actually.”
More murmuring arose around them and the sovereign lifted her hand for silence.
“And if we offer you asylum, will we not suffer the same fate?” she asked.
Mark had to smile. She was indeed a sharp one.
“First, no one knows where we are. Second, I and my Enthralled are not seeking to stay here. We have a lot of work ahead of us, and if we do not find the shards of the Crystal Heart before Lady Maliah figures out how to break into your world, she will end all life as you know it.”
The one near the pair of thrones who called for their destruction spoke again.
“I want to say he is lying, but the powers manifested by both this Collector and the one we saw in our minds claiming to be the creator are beyond my understanding. Perhaps it is best we do not choose a side. The great dome shall protect us, always.”
Murmurs repeating this mantra about their dome echoed around them with nods of agreement. Mark wondered if he was some type of royal advisor.
Sovereign Fayllencia stood and looked out over her people.
“I want to thank our minstrels for their entertainment, but obvious pressing matters demand that the rest of the evening be cancelled. I and my Voices will engage with these strange newcomers and determine a course of action that most benefits our people.”
There was some disgruntled murmuring among the gathered crowd who dragged their feet as they slowly moved out the back of the throne room.
Fayllencia cast her eyes over to one of the armored Blazar wearing more ruby armor than the others and gave him a nod. Mark got the impression that he was their Captain of the Guard equivalent and his thoughts were confirmed when the seriously muscular salamander tapped a few of the warriors still surrounding him and the Awysai.
The chosen guards moved to quickly usher out the crowd of people that had been gathered to watch the concert, and once the doors were closed, the Sovereign immediately turned her gaze to the one Mark thought of as the advisor.
“Urtanion, you do realize that the great dome did not protect us from these people walking right into the middle of our royal concert, correct?”
The older-sounding salamander narrowed his neon-lime eyes as he looked from his matriarch to the red-patterned Awysai, and Mark’s magic eye received a sudden spike of hot embarrassment from the man.
“Mother, the premise of your question is incorrect,” said the prince, unabashedly gazing at Amina. He paused a few moments giving the new Chieftain a soft smile and then turned to face the Sovereign. “None of these people are here to harm us. The dome has let these otherworlders pass freely because they are both peaceful and are in need of our help.”
Urtanion nodded slowly and Mark sensed that this Blazar advisor hated being wrong more than anything. It was his duty not to be wrong.
“The handsome one’s logic is flawless,” Abby couldn’t help herself from whispering.
Fayllencia sat back down in her throne, and her husband reached over to place his three thick fingers on her arm. They shared a glance, and after a moment of contemplation, she nodded once, slowly blinking her yes. Mark had the sense that she called the shots, but that there were some division of roles between them that remained unclear.
The prince’s father then turned his gaze to Amina.
“We know you aren’t a heavenly dragon from the afterlife, and we have heard your plea to not be destroyed. We grant you this, at least. Now, as my enamored son had originally asked, I would still hear your story. We have heard of otherworlders and Collectors coming through a mysterious gateway to the east, but never have we known the existence of others so similar in form to the Blazar.”
Amina was still lost in a sea of loss and confusion. She looked around at Mark, then her own people standing around her, searching for a way to force the thoughts tumbling in her skull to form into words that made some semblance of sense. After a deep breath she turned back to the rulers sitting on their ruby thrones.
“I do not know you or where I am standing. I know our wise leader, my father, was recently murdered before my eyes. I know the Goddess Echo that grants us the power to defend ourselves was severed from our hearts. I knew that the Skeema would have killed us all whether I knew the whereabouts of the Collector Mark… yet, had I known, I learned that I would have betrayed an ally for the most meager chance to save my father and my people. It falls to me to do the right thing for the Awysai, and I do not know if I am ready to make those decisions or what those decisions mean.” She turned her neon-red eyes to Mark’s, and he saw a stream of fresh tears running down either side of her snout.
“I do know that Mark is not a destroyer and that his actions have always been kind and what he says has always been true. I believe him over this Lady Maliah that has only encouraged death.” After another shuddering breath she turned back to face the Blazar rulers.
“I can only ask that we be given time to reestablish our anchors to the Goddess Above and Beyond, if possible, so that we may once again begin to… We were peaceful. We fought no one, had built our own great dome with our sweat and muscle, relished in the cool waters of Mirror Lake, focused on our quiet devotions.” She paused, and Mark felt some new spark begin to burn within Amina’s once-tranquil heart.
“But now,” she continued, her steady voice projecting confidence from a new, absolute purpose. “I know we must grow strong once more before we enact our vengeance on the Skeema for what they have taken.”
“For what they have taken,” repeated several of the now-red-patterned Awysai, and Mark felt a chill spill down his spine. Is this why they had shifted from blue to red? Had they been corrupted by tremendous loss? It was poetic, but it didn’t feel as if it were the truth.
The throne room was quiet as everyone contemplated Amina’s words. Then, the Sovereign stood, gathered her long velvet gown, and began moving toward the new Awysai Chieftain. She squeezed her son’s muscular shoulder as she passed him and then came snout to snout with the otherworlder.
“I understand the challenges of leadership,” she said. “Your fate is yours to decide, and I can see your conviction so I will only offer this advice once; I caution against letting vengeance consume what you have left.
“You are not Blazar, but it appears that you may be our cousins from another world, and as such, I will grant the Awysai shelter while we learn more of each other and you find your footing again. Then we will see where we both stand.”
She held out her hand and the two women shared the forearm grasping greeting that seemed to be a common line through both cultures.
“Now,” Fayllencia said then turned to her son, the royal prince, “Isskeld will escort me while I take Amina and her people to get settled with clothing and a place to rest for the night.” She then turned to Mark. “Meanwhile, Lord Orvamello and Urtanion will speak further with the Collector.”
Mark nodded once to the Sovereign then shifted his eyes to Amina.
“I am truly sorry it came to this,” he said.
“We all are,” Sasha added, stepping forward and placing her hand on Amina’s shoulder. “I promise you, the Skeema will pay for this.”
Fayllencia waited patiently for this exchange before joining up with a group of guards outside the red-metal doors at the end of the expansive hall.
Beyond the doors, Mark saw there was no roof other than the gargantuan red dome. And that the sparkling ruby city of the Blazar was something out of a dream. Long, twisting spires reached hundreds of feet into the air and thin bridges of translucent crystal connected everything in stunning patterns- playin
g both roles of functionality and beauty.
Then all the Awysai had been led out of the box-like throne room leaving Mark and his team with only the Blazar lord and his advisor.
“Collectors are born within our domain every few years,” Orvamello began, also stepping down from his throne to join them. “Typically, they are spurred by desire to venture off in search of Enthralled and essence. Many do not return, and as such I can safely say I’ve never met a more powerful Collector or such a sizable battle harem.”
Mark gave the kingly creature a grin. “You have something we want, and you’ll ask us to do something before we can have them. That’s how things work, so let’s not waste each other’s time with dancing around the issue. An ancient evil assaults this place and keeps you trapped in your dome, and we’d love to hear all about what needs to be done in exchange for the Crystal Heart shards, but we must help the Awysai reestablish a connection to their goddess before I am back to full fighting strength.”
The lord and advisor exchanged a glance.
“My, my, you do continue to be unique,” Lord Orvamello said, rubbing the bottom of his stubby snout.
“I’m concerned about this talk of a goddess,” Urtanion said. “Such spiritual nonsense has no place under a dome of reason.”
“Look,” Mark said, holding up his palms. “I’m not going to debate the existence of higher powers with you. We’ve personally spoken to several gods and goddesses with very real influence over this universe. Along those lines, I need to help the Awysai find a place under your huge dome to set up shop and get our energy flowing again. Consider it a partial payment up front for solving your problem.”
“We’ve done this before,” Jezebel said, her hand on her hip.
“Many times,” Sasha added with a snap of her spade tail.
“I would enjoy hearing your stories,” the Blazar Lord said, “but I can see that your destiny is not one that allows for sitting and chatting over fresh brewed tea and warm mealworm biscuits.” He paused and turned to this advisor.
“Urtanion, I’m going to fetch my daughter to get involved with the otherworlder’s theology needs. You stay with these unique individuals and tell them of our story, and of our need.”