The Arclight Saga

by C. M. Hayden

  The warder seemed to shrink under the dragon’s furious glare. “We can arrange that, but you must cease this destruction.”

  “Your toys are no concern. You will take us to your Sun King immediately,” the dragon said. It wasn’t a request.

  Seeing that there wasn’t much of an alternative, the warder complied and led the dragons into the Magisterium. They moved deliberately, but without any haste, and even with Taro’s wooden foot he was able to keep up with them.

  The Magisterium had been fully restored since the incident with Vexis many months ago. The entire building was one giant, infinitely complicated machine. Gears turned without end inside of every chaotic hall and corridor, steam bellowed from the floor, and shafts cranked around a central column of endless grinding machinery. It was an amalgamation of stone and metal, and Old God machinery intermixed with newer, but less sophisticated, Endran magistry.

  The Magisterium tower was built by the Old Gods to project the Arclight a hundred miles in all directions. Long ago the magisters had taken up residence inside and now used it as their headquarters, but the tower itself predated them by centuries.

  The metal walkways bolted into the stone structure ran in a circle, and the first level led directly to the central meeting hall of the Curia. The Curial chamber was where the Sun King addressed the Magisterium directly.

  “Where is he?” the large dragon said, seeing that the chamber was empty.

  “I sent a runner to retrieve him; he’ll be here soon,” the warder-captain said.

  The dragon grunted. “This stalling will not be effective. We have a treaty with your people, and we expect it to be honored.”

  Taro hobbled forward, his leg stinging from the sprint over. “He’ll be here soon.” All three sets of dragon eyes turned to face him like glaring fog lights. Taro felt himself shrink as they looked him over, and his confident voice quickly became a dry squeak.

  The large dragon looked like he was going to spit venom at Taro and took two hulking steps forward, but the female touched her hand to his shoulder.

  “Annu hänen illu.” Her cool voice barely broke above a whisper, but her bodyguard’s combative mood faded.

  “Very well,” the large dragon said, eying Taro. “We will wait.”

  Suri came up behind Taro and yanked him by the collar. “Do you have a death wish?”

  Taro was breathing hard and used his sleeve to wipe a tear from his right eye. Somehow, he was still alive. “They’re dragons,” he said with a mote of excitement. “Real dragons!”

  Suri gave him a look of profound disbelief. “Well, no shit. Any other brilliant insights you want to share with me?”

  “They might be related to Antherion. It might be a good idea to be as nice to them as possible, especially considering they just made mincemeat of the Midway. They may not know their best friend is…”

  Suri nodded. “They said something about a treaty. Maybe it’s just politics.”

  The doors of the Curia swung open and Magister Briego entered. He looked like he’d just got out of bed; his hair was a mess, his glasses were crooked, and he looked even more disoriented than usual. Despite this, he spoke with an aura of profound respect. He carried himself not as an instructor, but as a head of the Magisterium. Taro could hardly believe this was the same man that taught his 0900 artificing class.

  “Your Excellency,” Briego said, rubbing his eyes, then reaching his hand toward the female dragon. “It’s an honor to have you here. Truly.”

  The bodyguard stepped between the two and motioned for Briego to keep his distance.

  Briego continued to speak, undaunted. “I wish you would’ve informed us of your visit earlier. We could’ve arranged some proper quarters for someone of such esteem, Empress.”

  “We have no interest in pleasantries,” the bodyguard said, forcing Briego’s attention away from the female. “I am Arangathras, first son of Craetos. I speak for Sivion.” He motioned a claw toward the female dragon. “We demand the return of our brother Antherion’s body, and the immediate surrender of the human responsible.”

  “How do you—” Briego began, but was quickly cut off.

  “These things you will provide pursuant to our treaty with your people. Page twelve, paragraph seven, section four, as amended.” Arangathras spoke as if the pages of the treaty were right in front of him, and he was simply reading off them.

  “Treaty?” Briego said.

  “You’d feign ignorance to protect our own kind?” Arangathras said.

  “Excuse me,” Taro said. His voice carried far in the echoing chamber. “How long ago was this treaty made?”

  “During the reign of Sun King Thoros,” the other dragon body-guard said simply. This was the first time he’d spoken, and he seemed much more tame than his counterpart.

  Suri counted on her fingers. “That’s almost twelve hundred years ago.”

  “I was present during the proceedings. No mention was made of a time limit,” Arangathras said. “Those who commit crimes against the Brood are to be surrendered to us.”

  Briego ushered a warder toward him and whispered in his ear. From the bits and pieces Taro heard, he was asking for the man to find a copy of the treaty in the Librarium.

  The Sun King looked remarkably calm when he entered the Curia. There were four warders on each side of him, which he promptly waved off as he approached the dragons. He spoke with Magister Briego for a moment, nodded, then continued toward the female dragon.

  “Lady Sivion,” he said. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Sun King Godrin. I’m familiar with the treaty between our peoples, and Antherion’s body will be released immediately.” He glanced at Taro. “He’s buried in the Conservatorium?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Taro said. It had been his idea.

  “Buried?” Arangathras snarled. Of everything he’d heard, this seemed to aggravate him the most.

  Sivion spoke for the first time in Amínnic. As she did, she approached the Sun King. The bracers on her arms and legs clinked like a wind chime as she walked. “It’s their custom. They bury their dead.”

  “We meant no offense by it,” the Sun King said.

  “Then none is taken,” Sivion said softly.

  The Sun King cleared his throat. “As for the matter of his killer, Vexis, she still has to stand trial for crimes against Endra. She’s committed grievous injury to us and killed many.”

  Arangathras growled. “The death of a few humans pales in comparison to the atrocity she’s committed.”

  “We disagree,” the Sun King said diplomatically. “But I can assure you she will face justice. Likely execution.”

  “Insufficient,” Arangathras said.

  “Execution is insufficient?” Taro said. “What would you do to her?”

  “No dragon has been killed in this manner since the Age of Nuruthil,” Arangathras said. “This atrocity demands the harshest of punishments. Her soul will be torn from her body and scattered throughout the reach between worlds.”

  The Sun King spoke carefully. “Would Your Excellency allow me time to converse with my court on this?”

  “Unacceptable,” Arangathras said. “There is nothing to converse over. Our treaty is clear.”

  The Sun King didn’t seem frightened by the gigantic creature and stepped toward him. “You, my lord, are in my city. In my Magisterium. You will treat me with respect or you will be removed. Is that understood?”

  Before Arangathras could answer, Sivion held up one hand and he stifled his words. “You are out of line, Arangathras.”

  The enormous dragon seemed to shrink at her words. “Apologies, my lady.”

  “Do not apologize to me. Apologize to him.” She nodded toward the Sun King.

  Arangathras bowed and spoke with exaggerated politeness that looked wholly out of place given his frightening appearance. “My apologies, Your Majesty. I’m not familiar with your customs. Would it be inappropriate to ask how long it will take for you to speak with your advisors o
n this most pressing issue?” He spoke through gritted teeth.

  “I should have an answer for you tomorrow at midday. In the meantime, I’ll arrange quarters for you in my palace.” The Sun King ushered Taro toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Show them to Antherion’s grave.”

  Taro nodded. “Yes, sire.”

  Since Sivion had arrived, Taro felt her eyes on him. At first he thought he was imagining things, but now Sivion was openly staring at him.

  “My children,” she said, “please accompany the Sun King’s men and see to it that my quarters are prepared. I will accompany the boy alone.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise,” Arangathras said. “My midsight has shown—”

  “I know what your midsight shows. Still, do as I ask,” Sivion interrupted gently. She stepped toward Taro and held out her long, smooth hands. “Please, dear boy, lead the way.”

  Chapter Three

  The Dragon Queen

  Sivion walked two paces behind Taro as they ascended the tower. Late though it was, the halls were packed, and scores of staff and recruits eyed them and exchanged whispers.

  “It’s not much further,” Taro said, hopping over a cluster of gears jetting up from the floor.

  “I am aware,” Sivion said. “I’ve been here before.”

  “You have?”

  “I helped build it.” She gave the place a disapproving look. “Your kind has changed it quite extensively, but it’s much as it was some two thousand years ago.”

  Taro mouthed the number silently. “How old are you exactly?”

  Sivion smiled. “Old.”

  The door to the Conservatorium opened at Taro’s touch, and when he and Sivion were inside, it disappeared behind them. Even after visiting the room a hundred times, it never lost any of its wonder. The smell of spring air and the sound of singing birds surrounded him like a cool blanket. The woodlands went on for miles in every direction, and in the distance were endless fields and mountains dotted with crystal-clear lakes and waterfalls.

  Magister Acker had taken over stewardship of the Conservatorium after Antherion’s death. He took decent care of the place, but he approached it in a much more analytical way than the dragon ever did. He took precise measurements, zoned-off areas for different sources of ink, and cleared many of the trees in the eastern groves to make room for tilled land.

  Sivion’s eyes lit up as she looked around the vast wilderness around her. Crinkled leaves fell from the trees above, and she grabbed one of them from the air before it hit the ground. She rubbed it between her fingers and smiled.

  “This is certainly Antherion’s doing.” Sivion let the leaf fall with the others. She seemed to anticipate Taro’s next question, and spoke again. “When Arkos was first formed, the gods gave each of the first dragons a different purpose in shaping the world. In those days, I shaped mountains. Antherion shaped trees and woodlands.”

  “I didn’t realize he was that old,” Taro said, mostly to himself.

  “He always had an affinity for humans. I told him it would lead him to a bad end.” Sivion shook her head somberly. “I suppose, even for us, time catches up. But to be killed by a mere human…it’s beyond words.”

  Taro and Sivion trekked deeper into the woodlands. Leaves crunched underfoot as they navigated the maze of birches and branches. “Vexis is no mere human,” Taro said, pushing through a curtain of willow branches.

  “I’m aware of what she is. I could feel the stink of her nether magic even as we flew here. I cautioned the old Sun Kings of the dangers the Arclight posed, but they didn’t heed my warnings. The Old Gods were many things—ingenious, generous, divine—but never careful. The thought of humans tinkering with their devices would terrify them.”

  They came across a small clearing about twenty feet wide. In the center was a lone boulder surrounded by forty smooth river stones arranged in the circle. The grave was in the center, bursting with clusters of bright tulips and hyacinths.

  Taro pointed. “He’s there.”

  Sivion knelt and ruffled one of the flowers. There was a long moment where she didn’t move or speak, but finally she wiped her eyes. “Oh, my dear friend. She did so much worse than kill you.” She looked back at Taro. “He’s been touched by nether magic?”

  Taro nodded. “Vexis used him as some sort of sacrifice to bring a void creature through the reach between worlds. I’ve never seen one so large.”

  Magister Veldheim had the creature chained up in his Bestiary and, according to rumor, was running all manner of experiments on it. However, Taro wasn’t sure how Sivion would react to that knowledge and decided to keep it to himself.

  Sivion knelt beside Antherion’s grave, and sensing he should give her some space to grieve, Taro walked back toward the entrance alone. Even from a distance, he could hear Sivion’s muted sobs.

  As Taro neared the door, he heard a clap of thunder and a warm breeze rustled through the trees. Looking up, he saw the sky had turned dark and cloudy. Moments later, it started to rain.

  Chapter Four

  Trust In Blood

  Taro was certainly set on finding Nima, but she wasn’t the only reason he stayed in the Librarium until the late hours of the night. Above all else, he dreaded going home. As a reward for stopping Vexis and killing Dr. Halric, the Sun King had set his family up with a small home in the uptown section of Ninth Street, not a mile away from the Magisterium itself. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was well-built.

  Usually his mother, father, and brothers would be asleep at this hour, but as it was always daytime in Endra Edûn, even Taro had trouble with sleeping at proper times. All the thick shades on the windows of his home were drawn except for his own room’s. He fumbled with unlocking the front door, then pushed it open. Light poured inside like a spotlight, and he quickly shut the door behind him. It was cozy inside, not quite as cramped as their old home in Ashwick.

  Taro heard the flickering of flames coming from the common room and found his father, Talthis, inside fiddling with burner plates. Fireplaces were exceedingly rare in capital structures, and teaching his parents how to use magistry-powered devices had been quite a chore.

  “You’re home late,” his father said, glancing sideways as he came up the stairs.

  “I didn’t realize I had a curfew,” Taro said bitingly.

  The Arclight had done so much for Taro’s father. His atrophied muscles had regained their old strength and the tone was back in his complexion. Despite this, he still had a look of profound distaste when his eyes met Taro.

  “Keep that tongue of yours in your mouth, boy. I was just making conversation.”

  “Sorry,” Taro said. He was surprised to find his words were sincere. “It’s been quite a day. How are you feeling?”

  “Damned good.” His father dipped his finger in the pot of soup on the burner and popped it in his mouth immediately after. “I spoke with General Gavin this mornin’. Looks like they’ll have a place for me with the city guard.”

  “That’s amazing news,” Taro said. “I know you’ve been wanting to get back to work.” He peeked into the pot of cold soup. It was creamy white, and filled with cheese, peppers, and broccoli. “Is there enough for me?”

  “There is, but it’s ice cold. I can’t for the life of me figure out this magistry nonsense.”

  “The power cell’s empty,” Taro said, then touched his hand to the side of the burner plate. Moments later, the soup began to boil. As it did, Taro retrieved some barley rolls and butter from the pantry, and he set some dishes and ironware on the kitchen table.

  “It’s a shame you don’t come home more often,” Talthis said. “Your mother makes a warm meal every night, always sets you a plate even though she knows you ain’t comin’.”

  “I have classes in the morning and afternoon,” Taro said, stirring idly at the simmering soup. “And the evening’s the only time I have to look for Nima.”

  “How’s that coming?” his father asked carefully. Taro appreci
ated his effort to not sound like a jackass.

  It had been much like this since they came to live in the city, almost as if there’d been some unspoken pact to be less hostile toward one another. Even so, their old arguments couldn’t be put away, and his father had made it clear that he blamed Taro for Nima’s disappearance.

  “I’ve made some progress,” Taro said, pouring some soup into each of the bowls. He pulled up a chair and scooped a spoonful of broccoli and cheese, blew on it, and put it in his mouth.

  His father paused as if waiting for more information. When none was forthcoming, he spoke again. “That’s specific.”

  “I just don’t want to get you and Mom’s hopes up.”

  “I ain’t no idiot, boy. You don’t need to sugarcoat what’s goin’ on. When you tell me somethin’, tell it straight. I can handle the truth.”

  Taro stirred idly at a floating pepper in his soup. “The truth is, if she hasn’t come back by now, it probably means she’s in trouble. She might not even be alive.” Saying it so plainly made Taro sick.

  There was a deep, long silence between him and Talthis. It was more uncomfortable than all the chastisement in the world. In fact, at that moment, Taro would’ve rather been yelled at. Instead, his father laced his fingers together and nodded.

  “I don’t doubt you love your sister. Do what you have to do, but please—” He paused for an uncomfortably long moment. “—if we’ve lost our daughter, don’t add to it by making us lose a son.”

  They didn’t speak again that night, and when Talthis finished his soup, he retired for the evening. Taro sat drenched in total silence and darkness, with only the faintest gleam of light peeking through the edges of the curtains.

  All in all, it was a remarkably peaceful exchange, considering some of the shouting matches they’d had in the past.

  Idly, Taro took his inscriber apart and began to clean it with wood alcohol. He laid the twelve pieces out in a row on a dry cloth, and scrubbed each with a tiny brush to pass the time. As he did, he noticed a book peeking from his leather pack. It wasn’t a textbook; it was one of the Helian books he’d gotten from the Librarium. In all the commotion, he hadn’t realized that he’d taken it.