Doom and the Warrior

by Lexy Wolfe

  The ogre blinked, flicking a glance at Mya hovering over his shoulder. “Chess?”

  “Yes, chess. You do know what chess is, do you not? There was a youngster who was brilliant before the catastrophe with whom I spent many hours playing. You may as well make yourself useful while Bura’an handles the details of the restoration.” Waving his forepaw, a chess table with pieces appeared, with a sturdy chair across from the dragon. “Sit.”

  Gareth smirked, patting Simpkins’ shoulder as the ogre obeyed the dragon’s order. The bard’s expression turned worried when he looked back towards the door. “Have faith,” Bura’an told him quietly, waving for the bard to join him.

  TRACKER PAUSED AS he and Doom crested the stairs on the mountainside, sniffing the air, cocking his head to the side as he listened. “She is there,” the wolflen growled. As if to prove him right, Ky-Lar moved from behind the large boulder they walked towards, gazing at them with calm expectation.

  “Ti?” Doom knelt by the woman who sat with her knees drawn up and face hidden in her arms. “Ti, what’s the matter?”

  She looked up, her face wet with tears. “I don’t want to stay here! This is not our home. Bralden is our home. Where they accept us. They do not think either of us are monsters or toys or tools or pets or anything but one of them. We have a place there.” She pulled away from his comforting touch, surging to her feet and punching a tree. It squealed as a split raced away from the point of impact. The display of raw power startled both Doom and Tracker.

  Seething, she paced, shaking with emotion. “Will the dragon gods steal me and my memories of Bralden away to get what they want? Am I just some tool or trinket to be passed from one powerful thing to another?” She punched the tree again, the crack widening. “Why must I keep losing the ones I love to sate some powerful, selfish entity?” she raged.

  “They are not taking anything from you. They want to take care of you.” Doom clasped the medallion around his neck, an unconscious gesture to reassure himself and hide a symbol of her ire from her. “They want to take care of both of us. The temple is their home. They want to share it with us so they can protect us.” He looked at the giant panther. “They brought Ky-Lar to you.”

  “So I am supposed to trade away our home with Kerk, those I care about in Bralden, the first place I have been able to know peace and freedom for this empty, soulless hole in the ground?” Golden eyes flashed in the light. “I am grateful to have known all that, and to have Ky-Lar, but I rather I had died killing that demon than lose everything again!”

  “You are losing nothing, Cat-Sister.” Tracker dared to put his hand on her shoulder. “Things are changing, but you and I both have known change would be coming.”

  “I’m not ready,” she all but wailed. “I’m not ready for our paths to diverge.”

  “Our paths may part, but our friendship never will. You will never lose me, Cat-Sister, no matter if we run in the same pack or different ones.” He cupped her jaw, rubbing his thumb across her cheek. “And you will never lose Bralden. You and Doom-Not-Demon touched all who live there. You will forever be a part of us, whether you dwell there or not.”

  Ky-Lar paced closer, his head held low, tail lashing. Awkwardly, he growled in the wolflen tongue, “Must learn what should have learned.” He looked at Doom. “Both have much to learn about selves.”

  Doom blinked at the panther. “You can speak wolflen?”

  Holding his head proudly, the panther stated, his diction improving slowly as he spoke, “Ky knows what bondmate knows. She knows wolflen, I know wolflen. She would know what I know, but time apart damaged the learning.” He padded to Tiwaz, bumping her gently. “We must leave. Better if learning is without distraction for you both.”

  Tiwaz looked stricken. “You, too? You want me to leave everyone behind, Ky-Lar?”

  He bobbed his head in assent. “Leave, yes. Forever, no. Too many years stolen from us and from him.” He looked at Doom with a similar sad affection that he had for Tiwaz. “Too much time lost in learning what you are. Much to make up for in small time.”

  Doom managed a reassuring smile. “He is right. My wings are growing back, but it doesn’t mean I know how to fly. I will need to train as hard as you ever did to become strong.” He pulled Tiwaz into a tight embrace. “I have faith Ky-Lar will keep you safe.” He looked at the panther. “How long until you return?”

  “Learning will be many, many years. Time alone, no longer than two cycles of the seasons,” he replied simply. He turned his feline eyes to Tiwaz. “Sooner go, sooner return.”

  “I know,” she whispered. Turning to Tracker, she pulled him close in a tight embrace. “Pack-brother, I will miss you terribly. Find a good pack to run with. I could not bear knowing you were alone.”

  Tracker rested his chin atop her head. “I plan to return to Aurora, if she will have me. The Dragonway temple should be part of Bralden, not a stranger. They have much the tribe can learn. And there is much they can learn from the tribe.” He grinned toothily. “I expect there will be a naming ceremony one day. I would be honored if you stood for us. If she is willing to share cubs with me, at least.”

  She could only nod, a lump in her throat at the intimate request. She turned to Doom, reaching up to put her hand along his jaw. “I cannot wait to see you soar in the skies,” she whispered. “Where you have always belonged.”

  Doom smiled, though his eyes reflected more emotions than mere amusement. “Ti, at your side, I have always been where I belonged. Promise me one thing.” He held her gaze for a heartbeat. “Don’t go after Alimar without me. We will see our journey to the end together.” When she didn’t reply immediately, he frowned. “Promise me!”

  “I promise,” she finally stated. She stepped back, looking between her pack-brothers. Tears glistened in her eyes, and her voice was tight with emotion. “I love you both,” she said before turning and, shape-shifting into her panther shape, ran before either could see her cry again. Ky-Lar ran by her side, both melting into the forest.

  Tracker looked at Doom, quizzical about the gromek’s odd expression. It took a few minutes before the gromek could speak. “I always knew she loved me. As much as I love her.” He closed his eyes, turning away. “This is the first time she ever said it aloud.”

  “She is beginning to heal. It is good,” Tracker stated firmly. “Come. We must tell the others so they need not worry. Or try finding them before it is time for them to return.” Doom nodded mutely, the pair returning to the temple. They both cast one last look in the direction she had vanished.

  WIND RIPPLED ACROSS the thick grass on the treeless slope of the split-peak mountain of Dragons’ Summit. A flock of birds picked through the grass peacefully. They startled at as growing shadow fell across them, sending them into the air a heartbeat before a green object slammed into the ground. A reddish brown dragon back-winged and landed near, maintaining an outward air of nonchalance though his eyes reflected concern. “Today’s lesson was dodging, not falling, Thrahx Vaug.”

  The gromek pushed himself up, spitting out a mouthful of dirt and grass. Annoyance flashed in his yellow eyes as he glared at the dragon. “Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me, Marchen! How silly of me to forget.” He stretched his wings out to their full extension, then folded them back as he shoved himself up to his feet. “At least I didn’t land on my wings this time. The healers should be grateful.”

  The dragon’s form melted, changing to that of an ogre-sized human male garbed in an elegant red outfit edged in gold and browns. He reached up to brush away other remnants of dirt, picking off a clod of dirt and grass hanging off the tip of the gromek’s horn. “Judging by the level of sarcasm in your tones, I do not believe more flight training would be prudent. You are too distracted. We can continue with less hazardous lessons.”

  Doom growled, his green skin flushing darker. “I cannot help being distracted!”

  “Don’t bristle at me,” Marchen scolded, though sympathy blunted any sharpness in his rebuke. The
ir path wound their way to a doorway leading to a tunnel into the temple’s mountain complex. “We are all concerned about the Temple Daughter. And many of us have volunteered to search for her.” He pointed out blandly, “You are the one who keeps declining our offers.”

  “I want nothing more than to go find her.” He paused within the archway, staring into the distance before he turned with a sigh and shut the door behind him. “It has been two years, two months and seventeen days since I last saw them.”

  Marchen arched an eyebrow, glancing sideways at the gromek. “Not that you’re counting.”

  “Not that I’m counting,” he agreed with a weak chuckle. Worry replaced his short-lived attempt at humor. “I want her to know that I have faith in her. She promised she would return. Ky-Lar said it would be no longer than two years.”

  “Thrahx…Doom,” the young, man-shaped dragon chided, putting a hand on the gromek’s shoulder. “Everyone knows that Tiwaz has the favor of Keth, Sulnar and Veridian all. If they have not whispered to even one person about trouble, then she is safe. No one can put an exact length of time on how long it would take to learn something like one’s own racial nature. Shape-shifters are the most reclusive of all races. It stands to reason she would need time.”

  “It feels like it has been a lifetime. We have never been apart for longer than a month.” He reached up to pull off a remnant of grass stuck behind his horn. “Never this long.”

  Marchen chuckled. “I keep forgetting how young you both are. You have only seen little more than two decades, so years will seem interminable. When you are as old as Drathmor, centuries will flutter by like minutes to you.”

  Doom snorted. “I am a gromek, not a dragon. And you can’t deny Drathmor is ancient even by dragon standards.”

  “How long do gromeks live for?” Marchen asked. Doom stopped abruptly at the question. The dragon acolyte turned to regard him with sympathy. “You don’t know?” he stated more than asked.

  “I don’t remember how old the oldest gromeks were.” He punched the wall, the rock crumbling slightly around his knuckles. “I do not remember much of anything before Alimar.”

  Marchen put his hand on the wall, the cracks melting and repairing themselves. “It is common for older memories to fade over the course of time. I hope that one day your days of slavery will be as dim.” He clapped a hand to Doom’s shoulder. “Come. The central temple’s library is quite extensive. We can see if there is any information about your people in the library somewhere.” Doom nodded mutely and fell in step with Marchen.

  STARS SPARKLED AGAINST the deep indigo of the night sky. The whispering wind swirled around the solitary figure gazing out over the forest from a south-facing promontory of the split mountain home of the central Dragonway Temple.

  “It’s been so long, Ti. Where are you?” Doom asked the sky. He spun at the sound of wings, barely catching himself from taking a step off the cliff as a familiar black and grey dragon with glowing blue-white eyes landed between him and the tunnel back into the temple complex. “Keth?”

  Amusement radiated from the dragon god as he settled and folded his wings on his back. “You remember me.”

  “I always remember threats to me or Tiwaz,” Doom pointed out acerbically. “In case they return.” He crossed his arms, still scowling. “Why didn’t any of you tell us who you were?”

  “Would you have believed us if we told you we were gods? You barely trusted us as it was,” the dragon replied simply.

  Doom opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again in annoyance. “I had suspected something,” the gromek grumbled, turning back to gaze over the forest again. “Ti was adamant the glyph shackles she bore could not be removed by anything but a god. She has never lied, but I thought Alimar had lied to her and dragons were that powerful.”

  The dragon watched him, then turned his own eyes to follow the gromek’s longing gaze. “Remember, my son, what someone knows as truth is not necessarily true.”

  Doom’s eyes widened at the familiarity of the accent and he spun back to stare at the dragon. “You! You were the wagoner who got us to the ship!”

  Closing his eyes for a moment, Keth inclined his head. “In a manner of speaking. Juran does not exactly have a firm grip on reality, so it was easy to speak and act through him. Crossing the veil outside of places holy to us is draining.” The dragon regarded Doom steadily. “While there is always the risk he still could have suffered without proof of his involvement, when they examined him through magical means, he had no memory of that night.”

  Cold shock closed around his heart like a fist. “Alimar had looked for us? Did he kill anyone because we fled?”

  “Some suffered, but none were killed. Alimar’s attentions have returned to tormenting the living.” The dragon’s expression waxed aggrieved. “He has warded his estate heavily against divine eyes, so it is difficult to see within its borders. Between your mother’s race and those wards, I could not find you until you were in the temple.”

  Doom blinked. “You…you were looking for me?” Keth nodded. “But not Tiwaz? Why?”

  Eyes closed as Keth heaved a heavy sigh. “Perhaps it would be easier if I showed you something.” The dragon god’s form rippled, then suddenly changed, shrinking down until he stood before Doom as a gromek. His hide retained its draconic patterning, but the green hue of a gromek mottled the black instead of grey. Instead of having Doom’s yellow eyes, they were still blue, and he bore a tail.

  Keth quickly grabbed Doom by the wrist, keeping him from toppling off the ledge in his shock. “You! I remember you! I was barely a year, but— You’re my father?” Doom shook his head. “No, it can’t be possible. I’m not—”

  “Gods frequently couple with the races they answer to. Dragons coupling with other races is more common than most realize, regardless of divinity. We are more magic than matter, so form is less important to us than other races.” He gestured towards himself. “This is how I appeared to your mother.”

  “Did she…know? That you were a god?”

  “Not at first. I told her before I had to return to the divine plane.” He smiled, shrugging one shoulder. “This world is more magic than most understand, which is the root cause for there being so many races and why it shattered as it had during the war with the high elves.”

  Doom frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Typically, everything occupies a niche and suits the environment it dwells within. You noticed yourself that if you needed a particular prey, you had to go where it lived. But it was rare to find unique animals sharing similar aspects.” Keth shrugged. “That is because for survival, they would compete for territory and drive out or kill anything that encroached. By the time most races evolve to being intelligent, they had already eliminated all competition.

  “But on this world, windows would open for a time between this and other worlds. Some became stranded here and flourished. They even brought some stability to this world because their forms were so unchanging.” Keth looked from the stars back to Doom. “Only once at least one member of a higher evolved population undergoes transcendent evolution do they truly belong to this world. Gromeks and shape-shifters are two of many populations that remain in a transient state.”

  Putting his hand to the side of his head, Doom walked past Keth away from the cliff edge. The god turned, watching him with a faint hint of concern. “I think I understand how Ti felt when I or Gareth tried to teach her something complicated and foreign to her.” He turned back. “What in all the hells is ‘transcendent evolution’ and what does that have to do with anything?”

  “It is when a mortal becomes a god.” Doom blinked, then stared blankly. “Yes, I know. Most mortals define gods as omniscient, omnipotent, immortal beings who have existed since creation. They’re wrong.”

  “They’re wrong?” Doom’s expression reflected his confusion. “Gods aren’t immortal?”

  “Immortality is not defined by divinity, though the divine are immortal. See, dragons a
re immortal by their nature. Nevertheless, dragons have all the physical wants, needs, strengths and weaknesses that other mortals do. And they can die, just not of old age. You would imagine that we would have been the first gods, but we are some of the youngest. Until there were other races on this world, we had no need for gods.” He shrugged. “Not everyone can become a god. One must be born with a seed of all the non-divine magical energies within them.”

  He put his hand over his heart. “They must also possess a passion about something. Not just a strong desire. It must be an all-consuming passion that gains admiration and followers. They must master themselves and their gifts, possess understanding of the world around them, and their part within it so profound, many call it enlightenment.”

  “And that is when they become gods?” Doom asked slowly.

  Keth nodded. “Prayers strengthen the bond the gods have to the mortal plane and allow us to hear our followers. Unfortunately, most gods are bound to the members of their parent race, sometimes to a group within their parent race, so what they can hear or do when it comes to anyone outside their race is limited.”

  “Humans have a lot of gods,” Doom observed in dry tones. “My trainer told me about many of them. Not that praying to any did any good.”

  “Humans are rather…prolific, despite their limited lifespan. I think they can have such intensity because their numbers allow them to sacrifice everything for their passions. However. Because dragons are native to this world, we can be the chosen god for any race, even those without gods of their own.” He closed his eyes. “Without a connection to the divine plane, those races are all but invisible to all gods, even my siblings and I. Unless prayer is directed to us to draw our attention.”

  “So, because we didn’t worship you, you abandoned Tiwaz and me?” Doom demanded, the spines along his backbone rising in anger.