“I have to fight that thing no matter what,” I answered honestly. “If I can save anyone he has devoured, I will.”
“You can save them!” the little boy said, eyes shining. “He ate our Well, too!”
“Your what?” I asked, confused by the constant and vague liquid imagery everyone had been using down here.
“Our Well! Our other gift!” he continued. “Our second gift to the seven worlds!”
Seven? I thought, before I remembered the Lost Deeps.
“Each world had two gifts,” Markhen explained. “One, specifically for the next Lord of Avalon, a weapon he could wield on our behalf. The other, we each were to give to Avalon, containing our knowledge and a miracle, so that it could be shared with the remaining worlds. For example, the Woadlands were to share their Woadfathers, as well as their botany, with each world. They knew things even we didn’t understand about plants and medicine. We were looking forward to learning it,” the boy sighed. “We were to share our libraries and the Well.” He looked at my face, and seemed happy that I was still confused, probably because he was excited to explain what he was talking about. “The others will use fancy words. I’ll just say this: if the Woadfathers are special trees, then the Well is special water. It heals and renews the living, especially their minds. We were able to create our museums and libraries because of it,” he swept his hand out. “The Well renewed our minds, helped us remember things we had once forgotten. The older we were, the more it helped. Our elders became the wisest scholars, and many of our experts could compete with those from other worlds. Our mages with the Dawnborn and Avalonians. Our craftsmen with the Pangeans and Deepborn. In exchange for the miracles of other worlds, we came to Avalon intending to share part of it. We even made a special container to carry it!”
“Does it just work on the old?” I mused, trying to determine if the magic bath was the reason this little boy sounded so smart.
“We all used it!” he declared enthusiastically. “It helped our minds grow faster, prevented other chemicals from damaging them! It was why our children learned so fast and retained so much, and why our elders were immune to any diseases that attacked the mind! Because as long as you have a body, the Well will renew your mind, and as long as you have a mind, it will renew your body! And that’s why you can save my brother!” Markhen added fiercely. “Because the Tidefather couldn’t devour their memories, so they are still inside with the Well! And he never learned to take the Well’s power for himself, because it doesn’t work the way monsters think it does! You can save them all!”
The little boy pointed to the icy weapon that had been created for me. “This spear’s name means Shard. It was made out of a union between water and ice. Even a dragon of his power can still be hurt by such a weapon, especially one that hates the cold as much as he does! I know you can slay him with it somehow! End him, and free the Well! You will gain it as a boon, and it will free those whom he devoured! You have to!” he said fiercely. “You’re a king!”
“Alright, alright,” I attempted to soothe the excited child. “I meant it when I said I’d try.” I turned to Breena, who had been content to let the little boy chatter. “Let’s get everyone together and form a plan.”
A council of like-minded people was summoned—myself, my warband, and the dozen or so Atlanteans that were willing and able to help me fight—and we began to discuss the problem of slaying one of the Lesser Wyrms of the galaxy, with none of the armies, resources and high-level champions usually needed for this sort of endeavor. Sure, I had a fancy new magic stick and a lot of extra power I didn’t earn, but the Tidefather was still going to be something beyond anything else I had ever faced, with the possible exception of Cavus.
And something told me that the dragon wouldn’t be weak to Stell’s Satellites in the same way that the Umbra was.
But after speaking with the resurrected Atlanteans, we found an advantage we could turn against our enemy.
The preparation took three hours. When we were finished, the cleft atop the blue mountain opened again, so that everyone’s favorite red-headed, sarcastic protagonist could crawl out and brazenly defy his only present remaining enemy.
“Parley,” my voice called out. “I seek parley with the dragon who lays siege to this place. Come muster your courage to speak with me.”
A long silence stretched in response to my words. That was okay. I would have been offended if he had answered my call immediately.
Eventually, though, a massive wave formed off in the distance. It rolled slowly over to the mountain jutting from the deep.
Now that I was above ground again, I remembered just how weird the world outside the mountain had been. We had traveled here atop a surface of thick liquid, and the Tidefather had thrashed at us from beneath. I had been unsure if he could penetrate the water to attack us, as he had bothered with hurling a Scaleling in our direction, instead of tearing out of the endless ocean kaiju-style and wrecking our faces as soon as we showed up.
I got my answer when the water finally parted and a head at least twice the size of my entire body broke through the surface.
“Hello, would-be king,” a voice at least as powerful as Raw-Maw’s washed over this poor idiot standing on top of the mountain. The neck supporting the head continued to emerge from the water, rising to loom at least twenty feet over the top of the mountain. “I will hear your words.”
Shit-shit-shit—I kept thinking, terror washing over me even though I was supposedly just out of the monster’s reach. This was a stupid plan.
Calm down, my own dragon told me. Don’t let him get to you. Look and realize that he’s injured.
I did just that. It was hard to make out details on the monster’s ugly, seaweed-green hide, but it really did look like it had been burned, or scarred, or damaged in some other painful fashion. As far as I could tell, the wounds looked fresh. They hadn’t come anywhere close enough to killing the monster outright, but I could tell that breaking through the semi-solid surface below us had cost the creature a great deal.
“I would hear your explanation for invading my territory and interrupting the sacred Rite,” I replied. “You have disrupted the process of choosing Avalon’s next Planetary Lord. Defend your actions.”
A snort enveloped the red-headed idiot at the top of the mountain in a cloud of foul air. It was followed by a chuckle that mountains would probably make, if they ever decided to eat someone as a joke.
“Your weak attempt at trickery is even more humorous than it is insulting, would-be king. Even the Atlanteans dared not play such games with me. Such idiotic courage is… refreshing,” the massive head cocked to the side. “It almost makes me forget that you stole from me.”
That one’s a lie, by the way, the Freaking New Guy added helpfully. He totally still wants to rip you apart. Just in case you didn’t know.
No, I’m good, I answered sarcastically. Obvious bad guy is obvious. Let’s just keep going.
“If you wish to end the parley,” my voice called out as an arm pointed fearlessly in his direction. “You are welcome to go back into the muck and sulk for some time. Tell me this, at least. Were you even aware that this chamber once served to anoint Avalon’s Planetary Lord? And were you seeking such a position for yourself?”
More snorting and chuckling. I began to feel that the dragon was watching a bad show that was the only thing on right now, and grateful for it.
“If you were a true dragon, you would know that we take our crowns by fear or force. I do not need a planet’s permission to claim it as my territory. Now your turn, little would-be king. Explain yourself. Why are you here?”
The red-haired figure did its best to meet the Tidefather’s gaze.
“Greed,” my voice answered honestly. “The purpose of this Rite is for the nascent Lord to understand the boundaries of his territory. This place is an opportunity to find out just how much is mine.”
“Oh,” the Tidefather’s amused voice washed over me. “Does the little
dragonling need another to tell him what he owns, and what he does not?”
“Pretty much,” my voice replied, and my figure shrugged. “That’s not unreasonable, though. Did you know how much you owned when you were my age?”
The massive head cocked to the other side.
“I do not remember what it was like to be your age, little dragonling. That was too many eternities ago.”
“Must not have been very formative years for you, then,” came my reply.
“Formative?” the massive beast chuckled again. “My, you are amusing. It makes this little trick of yours that much more entertaining. Do go on. Explain yourself, little Earthborn. What dragon took pity on you and bonded with you? Or did you gain your bond by being so entertaining?”
The figure in front of him began to laugh.
“You have no idea just how insane that story is, and just how much has changed since you have been down here. You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the whole history.”
“Excellent,” the massive monster hissed. “Oh, I am delighted to hear things have changed for the Earthborn. I’m afraid you have misunderstood me, dragonling. I am thrilled to see that this, a half-grown whelp in borrowed mail, is the best the Earthborn can now send to interfere with the other worlds. Tell me, would-be king, how much did the Earthborn suffer when they failed to protect Avalon? How much respect did they lose? How far did they fall from power?” The dragon’s head swayed as he studied the tiny figure below him. “Are you here because your people are so poor now? Do they have to send their sons to every dead world, digging through the rubble to find whatever scraps of power they can grasp? Is that the case now, little Earthborn? Have your people become garbage collectors? Beggars, crawling through whatever Pathway will still take them? Tell me, little whelp. How far have your people fallen?”
My figure did not answer immediately. The Tidefather seemed pleased.
“Are you not allowed to answer my question, little whelp? Did your parents forbid you from talking about your people’s shame? Must you hide the fact of your fall, even as you dig and beg for power to elevate your people once again? It’s alright, little one. You can tell me: how bad was your people’s Second Fall?”
My figure cocked his red-haired head at that.
“Second fall?” I asked, genuinely curious, and not worried that he could see.
The Tidefather chuckled again, and I remembered that I was his first source of gossip in probably millions and millions of years.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” the ancient dragon answered. “I was not expecting conversation with your kind to be so… satisfying. For this level of entertainment, I might have given my scales away for free.”
Still lying about that, Teeth whispered needlessly. Totally gonna try and eat your face later.
“When was our first fall?” I asked carefully. “Or is that something you made up?”
Either way, I needed to keep him talking. That was apparently my main job these days, whenever a giant asshole showed up.
“At the very beginning,” the massive sea serpent answered flippantly. “I remember a little of it, and the stories afterwards. Your people were weak when the ancients discovered them, and decided they made the perfect slaves. Just strong enough to do hard labor, or serve as fodder for wars, but not strong enough to rise up on their own. Hungry enough to turn on each other for a few scraps of power or food, either to use themselves or to give to the few closest to them, without being able to realize that one does not keep promises to slaves. Their bodies, especially those of their females and very young, were attractive to every other race, either to damage for relieving anger or to couple with for relieving lust. Finally, after all of this, they were still palatable and nutritious enough to serve as a food source. As soon as they were found, they became the most sought-after captives in the Expanse. The Council used them to negotiate with the more monstrous races, offering a few thousand of your people in exchange for sparing a more important world from the ravages of a Tumult. Those of you not given to monsters were instead used to train the other slave races, so that those lesser races could become just as useful in satisfying the Expanse’s many needs and urges. Those centuries were the true golden age amongst the stars,” the monster sighed, actually sounding wistful. “When the powerful of any race, Council or monster, could get whatever they wanted, and grow stronger still.”
Horde, I thought with cold veins. He’s describing the same behavior I saw from the Horde.
That’s because the Horde came from a dragon, Teeth answered sadly. The same dragon we came from.
Shame washed through me, before a new thought allowed me to purge his words from my mind.
We came from two dragons, I declared, and the second one isn’t anything like this asshole.
He looked down at me to see whether I believed him. His massive yellow eyes seemed confused at my figure’s reaction.
“You do not answer me, little Earthborn,” he rumbled, sounding puzzled. “I was expecting you to rage at me for such insulting words, and call me a liar.”
“I am raging at you,” my voice snarled back. “Because I believe your words. I believe that the old ones were as sadistic and perverted and short-sighted as you say, to squander a people’s potential in the worst ways possible. And I believe that some of those old ones are still around, which explains why the Expanse, or galaxy or whatever, is still this screwed up. And I’m angry that some of them are still around, and that they taught members of my race to be the same.”
“Not nearly enough of them,” the Tidefather snorted again, misunderstanding that I was speaking of present members of my race and not the past. “Otherwise they would have never risen up to wreck the Expanse. But something squeamish and powerful found your people, little whelp. It protected and taught you all just long enough to allow you to learn how to Rise,” he spat. “It was the most inferior way to gain power that anyone had ever discovered, yet your race latched onto the concept in bulk. And somehow, the wretched little things thrived with the power. I’m sure the rest is history for you. But it should be a teachable experience nonetheless, especially now that your people have proven themselves weak after all, and unworthy of the prestige and praise lavished upon you by the rest of the Expanse. So now you know, little Earthborn. Your people were never meant to be great. It should be no surprise that you are all returning to your roots, at least on some level.”
The figure in front of the behemoth remained silent for a while longer.
“Do you have nothing else to say, little Earthborn?” the Tidefather gloated in a booming voice. “Has your despair robbed you of your hope? Are you no longer able to spring that futile little trap of yours? I have been waiting for it. At the very least, I would be able to consume you, find the name of whatever dragon was fool enough to bond with you, and risk my vengeance.”
“Oh, you,” my voice rang sweetly, as my figure buckled with laughter. “You always know just what to say.”
“What?” the dragon reared his head back in astonishment.
“The vengeance thing,” I explained. “The idea of you, little you, picking a fight with either of them. Absolutely high-level-larious.”
“Either,” the monster said as he eyed me carefully, not missing that detail. “You claim to have formed a bond with more than one.”
“Well, in all fairness,” I answered. “I didn’t have much of a choice with the Flesh bond. Turns out that gets passed down, just like a cleft chin or something. Absolutely no credit I can claim there. Not that I’m happy about it, mind you. That guy’s an even bigger asshole than you are.”
“But you’re right about the second guy taking pity on me,” I continued. “Though I can’t understand why that fact doesn’t scare you more. Didn’t you just tell me what happened the last time something powerful took pity on the Earthborn? I’m kind of surprised you haven’t bothered to attack me yet. Even if I am your first real conversation source other than ghosts in the last million or so
years.”
“There is no point in attacking you,” the monster rumbled, anger crawling back into its voice. “This current form is an illusion you have created to distract me. Because you think it sufficient enough to divert my attention when you finally flee this wretched, frigid rock.”
“Flee?” My totally real figure (promise!) cocked its head at him. “Why would I flee from you? I have a Rite to complete. A Lord has to know the boundaries of his or her territory. Though I suppose if I was a ‘her,’ I’d be Lady, instead. Not sure what the proper term is there, to be honest. I’ll have to ask.”
“The boundaries of your territory are the outer walls of the blue rock you are currently hiding in,” the leviathan said in a deafening growl. “They were drawn by the being you see before you, one whom you have no power to contest, one whom the dragons of your own damned bonds dare not even dream to confront! This wretched cold rock is your entire kingdom, its handful of ghosts are your subjects, and your reign will last however long it takes for you to run out of food! Then you will be forced to confront me and be slain, or starve and die, and I will send another piece of myself to claim you so that I might devour your corpse, gain knowledge of how to finally leave this place, and prove once and for all that your own purpose was nothing more than a tool for my own advancement!”
“See, that,” I said, my most authentic body ever (no, really) pointing at him. “That right there. That’s what I finally figured out down here. How these Rites really work.”
“Explain, if it will hasten my opportunity to kill you,” the dragon said through his gritted, longsword-sized fangs.
“Being a king means you need to discern truth,” I replied. “It’s not about how much power you wield. I could have all seven worlds offer me tribute every day, feed every single one of my desires, and it wouldn’t make me a king. Being a ruler is about how you wield that power. Can I wield it well? Can I increase my kingship by making my subjects safer, richer, and happier?”
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