by J Jordan
As street brawls erupted over who drew a mustache on Our Heavenly Goddess, and their only source of water took on a yellow tinge, and their gold stores slowly dwindled to pay the growing army of bar maidens, blacksmiths and lavatory control specialists, the town mayor was voting himself best mayor of the Geliluen District of Enchanted Forests. Fifteen years running. What a guy.
“Stay out of my world!” screamed the Matron.
“You’re the one invading mine!”
“Katrese, it’s getting hard to breathe.”
“I’m working on it, Romney.”
“I can’t get through. I feel lost.”
“Stay with me, Cora. I just need a little more time.”
The mayor of Alderbury was a kind man and honest to a fault. And he deserved every last one of those “Mayor of the Year” awards on his mantle. His town was clean and prosperous, and his vigilant Town Watch ensured no paladins or rogues got into scuffles. He had several wells drilled throughout the town, to ensure his citizens had clean drinking water even if the bandits to the north had their way with the stream, which they didn’t. They were bandits, yes, but they weren’t animals. Not all of them. No one peed in the river, okay? It was fine. And the bar maidens were paid fair wages, because there was a constant stream of income from adventurers and lavatory control specialists coming in from a long day. And everyone knew that the LC specialists were good tippers.
“Hang on,” said Kinsey, twisting around in midair. “Where’s Daisy?”
A mud monster walked into a bar. The bartender asked, “Tough day, Balder?”
They’re clean! Everyone is clean! Stop fixating on sanitation!
“And the rancher? Where did he go?”
The town of Alderbury was a clean place, with a strong economy, and good food, clean water, plenty of work for citizens and traveling adventurers, fully-stocked apothecaries, a row of blacksmiths competing for business, a couple of tailors, taverns on every corner, lavatories for men and women and centaurs and minotaurs and smaller ones for pixies, and a resident enchanter—two resident enchanters—who spun elaborate magic onto weapons and amulets. Everyone had work, everyone had food and drinking water and ale, everyone was happy with their lives and their work. Everything was fair and just, and nobody fought because the Town Watch was there to break up fights and help people when they needed it. Everything was wonderful.
“Do you know what I want more than anything?”
There was only one problem with Alderbury. It had stopped growing. The Matron’s attention was elsewhere.
Devon launched himself off the far wall and through the veil. He crashed into the Matron and wrapped his arms around her. The Katarin stone connected with her back.
“I want to be a god.”
The town of Alderbury, and its accompanying enchanted forest zoning, were uprooted by the sudden force of magical transfer. Trees and buildings, knights and bar maidens, blacksmiths and sanitation workers, all fell into the Katarin stone’s unrelenting pull. The dragon, Devon Reymus, gained form with each magical being. The world of Lanvale and the destroyed Reymus Collection were returning by degrees, as the fantastical world crumpled on itself like paper. The Matron twisted in Devon’s grasp and planted a palm on his forehead. She pushed with all her remaining might.
“Stop, you idiot!”
But she was losing her own physical form. The once fleshy hand had become tendrils of blue flame. Raven hair became a rippling corona of flame. The last smiling pieces of Geliluen Forest were uprooted and drawn into the stone’s surface. The blue flames of the Matron curled against the force. Two young stars turned to Romney Balvance. The face that held them had lost its features, but the glare was evident in her eyes. Somehow, this was all Romney’s fault. The Matron’s curses were lost in the tidal pull of the Katarin stone. One final scream echoed as the last of the flames drew into the stone and were snuffed out.
The world was back to normal, except for one important detail. Devon Reymus was missing. Something large and scaly took his place.
The beast was twice Katrese’s size as it stood on its hind quarters, its belly coated in golden scales. It dropped onto all fours, revealing a dark and rocklike hide, splaying its long claws against the Katarin tiles. A towering neck swiveled to reveal a snout crested on top and along its jaw with regal scales, like a mane of golden spikes. The Katarin stone was wrapped taut around a thinner section of its neck, like a strange blue-flashing collar. The two amber eyes focused on Romney, and the snout curled into a grin, revealing rows of ivory spikes. Waves of heat billowed from between the small crevices of its teeth.
The beast opened its jaws and began speaking in perfect Camerran, though the motions of its mouth didn’t seem to play along with the language. Tykeso would later describe it as a poorly dubbed dragon in a bad movie. The voice was unmistakably Devon Reymus.
“Blessings, little dragon slayer. If it weren’t for you, I would still be crawling in that sad little flesh suit, awaiting a death that would never come. Now I am truly free. Thank you. But I’m afraid your usefulness has come to an end.”
There was no windup this time. The gout of fire came fast and free, focused like a single orange streak that forked in front of Romney and cut two clean gashes through the steel walls on either side. The dragon released another that banked past Cora’s head and evaporated a section of wall behind her.
A frustrated howl bellowed from the long throat, then another fire streak. The fire missed Arindale, who ducked instinctively. It carved a ragged circle in the wall leading into Devon’s art gallery, and another circle in the wall behind that, on through the penthouse. The dragon, Devon Reymus, smashed his claws against the tile floor in frustration.
“Die, mortals. Be consumed in my godly fires.”
Another gout passed across Katrese, leaving one angry, fully intact goddess and a perfect outline in the wall behind her.
“Why aren’t you being consumed?”
Katrese approached Devon without fear and held up her index finger.
“You can’t kill them. And, in return, they can’t kill you. That was the deal.”
“Hang on. I watched Lorna kill a hundred people in Andar yesterday. She’s famous for killing people.”
Katrese turned to Romney, with an expression that said she wasn’t in the mood to deal with this.
“How do you know they were dead? Did you check each body for a pulse?”
“Actually,” Kinsey said, stepping into the conversation from a distance, “every soldier at the base was badly wounded in one way or another, but no one suffered life-threatening injuries. Grazing shots mostly. Some minor knife wounds, and broken bones. One guy said he was thrown like a spear. Nothing fatal. Everyone is expected to pull through.”
“That’s Lorna for you,” said Katrese. “No more interruptions, please.”
She turned back to the dragon, unfazed by his full height.
“This is a serious breach, mister. You’re lucky I don’t strip every last one of your protection spells. They are the only thing keeping you alive right now. These amateurs could have a field day with your scaly butt.”
She shot another glance at Romney as he prepared to speak. He thought better of it.
“Now, I want you to release every last bit of that magic, or so help me I will stick you in the worst realm of suffering you could ever possibly imagine.”
“Your threats are hollow, false goddess.”
“Do you want to live in a call center for eternity, Devon? Because that is what your hell looks like.”
“You cannot bind me. I am a god now.”
The gout of fire did nothing to the goddess.
Not true. It worsened her mood.
“No, Devon, you’re a dragon. A defunct alpha predator. A giant fire-breathing lizard. A dragon who is on my very last nerve. But you are not a god.”
Devon demonstrated his power once more, sending a focused beam of heat toward Rella. It banked at the last second and disappeared into th
e condo. Rikka fired back with her own wand. The magic beam struck Devon square in the chest and pushed him back an inch, leaving claw marks in the tile. His muzzle wore a pained expression, but his golden belly was unmarred.
“Cut that out,” Katrese snapped. “No more fire breath. No more magic wands. Do not throw that dagger, Arindale Kinsey.”
Kinsey lowered the knife. The others returned their weapons to their sides. Devon sat up on his haunches and grunted noxious fumes from his nostrils. A low grinding sound put Katrese on edge. She wagged her finger once more at Devon.
“I still have repairs to make. And I want everyone on their best behavior. That means no flame breath, mister. Romney, do not even think about ‘popping’ Devon out of the building. Tykeso, you are not going to climb his scaly hide with your daggers. Don’t even dream about it. Cora and Rikka, you put those wands in your pockets and leave them there! And when I get back, Devon Reymus, you are turning back into a CEO. Rella Candrata, you drop that wand on the ground right now. No more fighting, no more arguing, no more magic.”
Katrese turned to start her work, then wheeled back around. Her divine gaze burned at the dragon.
“You are an ungrateful little . . . ”
She growled the last part, fist clenched and shaking around the word she wanted to say. Then she turned once more and stormed out of reality.
This left an awkward room of six dragon slayers and a dragon, staring at the scorch marks all around them and sulking with hallowed guilt. Romney took note of the new holes cut in the walls and the ceiling. He moved to one such fissure and peered through. He could see the Lanvale skyline twinkling beyond. And above him, a night sky full of stars.
Romney had never seen the stars from anywhere in Lanvale before or its neighboring suburb Cresdale. As his eye wandered to the far end of the city, he watched the cityscape and evening sky join at the horizon. It made a beautiful mirror effect, like stars shining over calm waters. The general rules on light pollution had gone cockeyed to make this happen, but the effect was amazing. Okay, he said to himself, this means that some part of reality isn’t working, but you can’t help admiring it. Cora joined him at the fissure. He scooted to the side to make room for her. They watched a distant constellation loom over the city, matching light for light. Cora sighed and slowly shook her head.
“It’s incredible.”
“Sure is,” said Romney.
“Truly an impressive sight. There is no place in Ontar we could see something like this, with all the light pollution.”
“Yeah.”
“There are a few places left in Azerra. Far North Azerra. And even then, you wouldn’t see it like this.”
“Yeah,” said Romney. “It’s pretty great.”
“Hey, guys, there’s still a dragon in here.”
They turned to Arindale and the others, who had drawn their weapons again on Devon. He had moved two feet toward the center of the room.
“Thank you, Agent Kinsey. But I’m not worried, because everyone here is in a stalemate. Devon can’t kill us, and we can’t kill him. And any other magic will only make Katrese angrier.”
Romney turned to Devon. He had to bend backward to see the dragon’s face.
“Nobody wants to make her angrier, do they? That would only make a bad day worse for everybody.”
“I will ruin you, little dragon slayer. No matter my form, I will crush you and everything you hold dear.”
Romney grinned at this.
“I don’t think you can do any of those things from a prison cell. You’re guilty of theft, attempted murder, destruction of private property, assaulting a provincial agent. I’m sure I’m forgetting something. Agent?”
“His rap sheet is almost as long as yours, Balvance.”
Romney guffawed at this.
“But I saved your life.”
“Nope,” said Kinsey. “You’re still going to jail.”
Then Kinsey thought about it.
“And when did you save me? You pulled me into this mess with your wand. That’s endangering the life of a provincial agent. Probably. There has to be something in the book for that.”
Their argument was cut short by fire. Devon’s flame burned through the eastern wall, through the myriad wires, then the steel and mithril supports underneath, spurting out into the night sky in orange flashes. The flames left a perfect fissure running from corner to corner. The wall bowed around the cut. Its three neighbors groaned as structural loads shifted.
“All right, Devon. Cut it out. You can’t kill us.”
Devon gave a draconic grin.
“I’m not killing you.”
He reared back and blew another flame at the adjoining wall to the left, continuing the clean cut through to the next wall. Another perfect line, as if it were made by a two-ton plasma torch. The northeast corner sagged with little left to hold it in place. The fissures closed like a charred mouth and the walls buckled. The ceiling tipped at the corner, sliding down several inches like the brim of a gentleman’s fedora. The remaining support made a frustrated groan. Structural beams failed. They were never meant to carry these new burdens.
Devon prepared another blast, but stumbled against the assault of magic beams and missiles. Cora and Rikka were fighting back, joined by Rella’s wind gusts. Tykeso moved into the fray, daggers raised. He took a swipe at Devon’s flank, but the blade gleaned off his impossibly resilient hide. Devon shifted his bulk and tried to tackle the elf, but Tykeso was already stepping away. Arindale’s dagger passed by the elf’s ear and pinged off a towering claw. Devon shifted and inhaled another gust of breath. It came out as a fiery column, continuing the charred line along the northern wall, this line uneven from the shocks of magic onslaught. The fire had reached the midpoint when the wall cracked farther along the line. The northern wall collapsed under the pressure of losing its three brethren so soon. The ceiling dropped a foot, gave one final agonizing cry, then fell to its doom.
In a matter of seconds, Devon’s penthouse suite, and the Reymus Collection, collapsed into a pile of debris sitting atop the Reymus Building. The dust curled off the remains, drifting into the evening breeze and the night at large. The citizens of Lanvale were too enamored with their new starry sky to notice the change in architecture. They were also too busy to notice the thing that shook itself free of a fallen ceiling. It was large, scaly, and now had a look of triumph stretched along its massive jawline. It kicked a crumpled air conditioner to the street below and let out a tremendous roar. The night wind was cool victory on his scales.
The dragon needed a running start. His first dive would need hang time, to maximize the first swath of destructive fire. He hunched low and calculated his trajectory. That was the problem with these modern cities. Too much crap scrunched together and not enough space to fly free. No matter. He would find a way to get it right. He had time to figure this one out. Or so he thought.
He didn’t see the six dragon slayers emerge from the wreckage, or the clean circle they had cut through the ceiling as it fell on top of them. Devon was too focused on his next big move. He did see the massive cloud of magic missiles forming over them as they readied their next attacks. But by then it was too late.
“Now!”
The volley crashed into Devon’s side as a single convergence of light, wind, and magic missile. The force of it pushed him toward the edge but waned as he reached it. He leapt forward, then sideways onto a small cliff made by a tumbled wall section. He turned to the dragon slayers from his new perch and ducked low as a magical gust of wind passed over his crest. Devon raised his wings, like two gruesome sails, and caught it. He left the ground in a single stroke. The down draft swept through the wreckage, bringing out clouds of dust. The team covered their faces but continued firing magic up at the flying form. Devon gave another magnificent swipe of his wings and lifted higher into the air.
He rose with each wing beat, until he was clear of the Reymus Building. He saw a pathway leading into a crowded intersection a b
lock away. The mortals had stopped in the middle of the street to stare at the oddities going on above them. It was too easy, almost sad. There would be other, greater challenges ahead. The world was his now. He dived.
Devon threaded between skyscrapers, neatly and quietly swooping down onto the crowd of onlookers. He was so enthralled by his imminent attack, he didn’t hear the loud pop from behind his head. He didn’t notice the man wrapped around the base of his neck. But he did notice the sudden change in the wind.
Romney clutched at Devon’s scaly mane and fired a blast of wind from his wand, aimed at Devon’s right wing. The sudden change in air speed was too much. The right wing was now gaining too much lift, and the left couldn’t compensate for the difference. Impressive as they were, Devon’s wings still fell under the terrible reign of aerodynamics. Devon tried to correct the mistake, but Romney matched it with another blast of wind across his left wing. The effect was overcompensatory. Devon’s left wing reached out to the brilliant night sky and lost all of its lift. The right wing pointed downward, toward the advancing street below.
Devon fell onto the street and came to a dead stop. There was no skidding across the asphalt. His feet were planted squarely onto the street. The Katarin stone flashed around his neck. The mighty dragon, Devon Reymus, yelped. He could already feel the power crackling through him. Both Devon and Romney were not prepared for the sudden explosion of magical discharge. Neither was the crowd below, watching the entire spectacle unfold before them.
No one was prepared. Not even Katrese.
The upside to this was that several hundred passersby caught the spectacle on their cell phone cameras. That is, they caught the first few seconds that weren’t brilliant light.