A Dragon of a Different Color

by Rachel Aaron

  “No,” Marci said. “But dragons don’t normally make their ages public, so that doesn’t mean—”

  “It does in this case,” Amelia said. “The reason you can’t name one is because they no longer exist. Estella and Svena are revered as ancient dragons, but by the old standard, they’re not even middle aged. If you look at our history, it’s easy to blame our lowered life expectancy on clan infighting. Bethesda certainly wasn’t the only dragon who killed her father for power. But dragons have always tried to kill their parents. The difference is that they’ve been uncommonly successful over the last ten thousand years. This isn’t because modern dragons are cleverer, stronger, or more ruthless than previous generations. It’s because old dragons like the Quetzalcoatl, who should have been unbeatably powerful, were weakened by living here.”

  She dug her little claws into the stone. “This isn’t our world. We came here as refugees, and though we conquered, we never fully adapted. That’s no big deal for young dragons who’re still small enough to be supported entirely by their own flames, but once we achieve a certain size, fire alone won’t cut it. Like every other magical creature, including humans, we need native magic to buoy us up and keep us stable. We were able to limp along before the drought, because even though we couldn’t actually use the magic of this plane, we could still lean on it.”

  “But then it vanished,” Marci said.

  Amelia nodded. “We had nothing after that. Most dragons couldn’t even change into their true shape during the drought, and the ones that could manage couldn’t maintain it for more than a few minutes at a time. But even the trick of staying in our far less magically intensive human forms only really worked for the young and small. The truly large dragons, the ones who’d fled here from our original plane, they had to either go to sleep or find alternate sources of supplemental magic, like my grandfather and his Aztec blood sacrifices. Those who could left this plane entirely in search of greener pastures, but it was always just a crutch. Even the richest power of a foreign plane is no substitute for the magic of your home.”

  Marci frowned, thinking her words through. As Bethesda’s daughter, Amelia had been born right before the drought hit, well after the dragons fled to this plane. But though she couldn’t have lived through their loss, she still sounded as if she were speaking from personal experience, and suddenly, Marci realized why.

  “That’s why you were always on other planes, wasn’t it? You weren’t running from Bethesda. You got too big to stay.”

  “Don’t write my mother off totally,” Amelia said. “Avoiding her was a huge part of why I didn’t come home, but I was also nearing the edge of what this world could handle.”

  She fluffed her smoldering feathers proudly. “You remember my impressive wingspan back on the beach? I might have mentioned this before, but thanks to the time dilation between planes, I’m a lot older than I should be. How much older is impossible to say since no one’s ever managed to make a reliable inter-planar calendar, but my best guess is I’m actually around four thousand, give or take a century.”

  “That’s impossible,” Myron said. “That would make you the oldest dragon on Earth.”

  “Now that the Three Sisters are dead, I am,” Amelia said matter-of-factly. “I’m older than Svena or Estella, and well big enough to have major problems with my magic. During the drought, I couldn’t be on this plane for more than a few days before I started feeling dangerously drained. Now that the magic’s back, I can manage a month, but it’s still unpleasant. This isn’t just a matter of my comfort, though. When the Merlins sealed the magic a thousand years ago, there were over a dozen ancient dragons remaining. By the time the seal broke, only the Three Sisters remained, and that was only because they’d slept through the whole thing. That’s a lot of world-class dragons dropping dead in a relatively short period of time, and while none of them died as a direct result of the loss of magic, it’s no coincidence that they were all defeated by lesser dragons who should never have had a chance of beating them, including my charming mother. That weakness is why I’m here, because unless someone does something, that’s the future of my species.”

  Myron snorted. “Dying to your children?”

  “Dying to a lot of things we shouldn’t,” Amelia said. “And while I know you don’t have a problem with that, this is far more serious than a few old dragons dying before their time. It’s the loss of our elders, the only dragons with the power and experience to keep the young idiots in line. Why do you think the clans have been so volatile since we got here? It’s not just because there was a land grab the moment we arrived. It’s because, by traditional dragon standards, we’re all children. We’re an entire race of young, hot-blooded fools, and when one of us does survive long enough to learn some sense, there’s not enough magic around to sustain us, which causes us to reach for power we shouldn’t in order to survive.”

  That didn’t sound good. “What kind of power?” Marci asked.

  Amelia shrugged. “Anything we can find. Blood sacrifice was a popular choice. Even during the drought, there was power in blood, but it wasn’t exactly an efficient exchange. Even with an empire offering him sacrifices, the Quetzalcoatl still lost to Bethesda, and only part of that was due to her backstabbing the hell out of him. Personally, I’ve never cared for blood, so I made up the difference by Planeswalking to places that had magic in abundance. It worked well enough, but it was always a temporary fix, and it’s not like Planeswalking’s a common skill. Even Svena’s never mastered it, and she’s one of the greatest dragon mages in modern history, though if you ever tell her I said that, I’ll have to kill you. The point is, even if I could teach everyone how to Planeswalk, dimension-hopping in search of food is no way for most dragons to live. We’re stupidly territorial. We need land. We need a home. And since we’re all already here, I’ve decided it’s time to properly move into this one.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Myron said, trying and failing to hide his obvious curiosity behind a wall of academic disdain. “Dragons operate on a fundamentally different magical system. You can’t just ‘move into’ our plane.”

  “But we already have,” Amelia said, looking up at Marci. “Do you remember how nice your death was? How big and spacious and well furnished? Whose memories built that for you?”

  “Julius’s,” Marci said. “But—”

  “Exactly,” Amelia snapped. “Julius, a dragon. By everything we know about magic, his memories shouldn’t have done squat because, as Captain Curmudgeon here just reminded us, dragons aren’t part of this world’s magical mojo. Or, at least, we weren’t ten thousand years ago. But that separation must be starting to blur, because as you and I both saw, Julius’s memories mattered. And if a dragon’s memories can help build a human death, what else can we do? The question is no longer ‘is integration possible?’ It’s how much integration has already occurred, and how much further can we take it?”

  By the time she finished, Marci’s mind was racing. “It’s absolutely possible,” she said excitedly. “Magic is a natural system, and natural systems change and evolve when pushed.”

  “Not this much,” Myron said, glaring at both of them. “This whole theory is ridiculous. Dragons have only been here for ten thousand years. That’s nothing on an evolutionary time scale, especially given how slowly the dragon population turns over. There can’t possibly have been any meaningful change in such a small period of time.”

  “But we’ve already seen it,” Marci argued. “Amelia and I were both inside the death Julius shaped for me with his memories. How would that be possible if this isn’t happening?”

  “Are you sure it was him?” Myron countered. “It’s no secret you were infatuated with your dragon master. Do you have any proof that it was his memories doing this and not your own wishful thinking?”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “Because I was dead, and as my death spirit has informed me, human deaths are holes dug into the floor of the Sea of Magic by the memories of the
living. None of my old friends from Nevada even knew I was in the DFZ, much less knew what kind of house I lived in. Julius is the only one those memories could have come from. Plus, the whole reason I was trapped there to begin with was because I was too remembered for the Spirit of the Forgotten Dead to find me. Where were those memories coming from if not from dragons?”

  “They were from dragons,” Ghost confirmed. “Memories are memories no matter which head contains them. A mage who is remembered by a dragon cannot be said to be forgotten.”

  “And thus we see how the wires get crossed,” Amelia said. “Even during the drought, dragons were part of every human culture. We filled your stories and your legends, decorated your art, and fought your heroes. Even today, you make endless video games and books and movies about us. It’s dragons all the way down with you guys! And as we’ve firmly established, nothing moves magic like humans.”

  “Wait,” Marci said, staring at her in wonder. “Are you saying that humans integrated your magic into ours for you?”

  Amelia nodded rapidly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. We don’t need to wait for physical evolution to naturalize us because humans have it covered. Our magical bed has already been made, so to speak, and the only reason we’re not in it already is because we’re still lacking a connection between our fires in the physical world and this one.”

  Marci’s eyes went wide. “You need a spirit.”

  “Actually, we already have one,” Amelia said, pointing a curved talon at the blue sea. “Remember what I just said about dragons being a huge part of cultures all over the world? That’s a lot of human attention, and when a lot of humans pay a lot of attention to something, what happens?”

  “You get a Mortal Spirit,” Marci said immediately.

  “Bingo,” Amelia replied, staring at the swirling waters of the Sea of Magic with hungry eyes. “Somewhere out there, beneath one of those whirlpools, there’s a giant hole created by humanity’s collective idea of ‘Dragons.’ When that hole fills up, the magic inside will become the Spirit of Dragons, or at least humanity’s idea of one. Left on its own, that wouldn’t mean anything for us real dragons except trouble. Who wants a god made out of someone else’s stereotypes meddling in your affairs? But if an actual dragon got to that hole first and exerted some good old draconic influence over the magic building up inside, you’d end up with a very different sort of spirit.”

  “What kind of influence?” Marci asked nervously. “Are you going to try and become its Merlin or something?”

  “No way,” Amelia scoffed. “Merlins are a strictly human gig. I’m a dragon.” She showed her sharp teeth in a predatory smile. “I’m going to conquer it.”

  Everyone stared at her in horror.

  “What?” Marci cried at last.

  “You can’t conquer a Mortal Spirit!” Myron said at the same time. “They’re enormous, pure magic on a geologic scale. You’re the size of a cat.”

  Amelia snorted. “As my brother would say, ‘Judge me by my size, do you?’ I might be little now, but I’m magic, too. Everything is on this side. That’s one of the greatest things about this plane: parts is parts. Just as mages can suck down magic from anything to use in their spellwork, I can set fire to any magic I come in contact with. That’s why I gave Marci the dragon’s share of my fire. Since this isn’t our world, there’s no afterlife here for dragons. Once our fire’s gone, that’s it. We’re ash. But when Marci died with my fire inside her magic, she smuggled me across the border, and then she brought me here, to the only place on this plane where I could possibly make this work.” She grinned up at the spellworked sky. “The sanctuary of the Merlins.”

  “I never should have let you in,” Shiro growled. “Dragons are always trouble.”

  “But why did you want to come here?” Marci asked. “The Sea of Magic I get, but only Merlins can manipulate the Heart of the World. What good is that to you?”

  “None at all,” Amelia said. “If I was here for the spellwork, which I’m not. I’m here for this.” She pointed up at the blue sky. “Calm, light, not getting burned alive—that’s what I’m after. Don’t forget, the Sea of Magic was every bit as dark and terrible and dangerous for me as it was for you. It’s all well and good to know there’s a hole out there in the shape of a dragon waiting for me to claim it, but if I had to bumble around in the dark looking for it, the Sea of Magic would chew me up before I got close. From up here, though, I can look for my spirit’s vessel without having to worry about getting ripped apart. That’s critical, because once I find our spirit, I’m going to need all the fire I’ve got left to claim it, because that sucker’s going to be huge. We’re talking about all of humanity’s collective idea of dragons gathered in one place. Do you know how many stories there are about us? We’re practically a genre.”

  “I’m sure it’s very big,” Marci said. “But isn’t that a problem? Even if you can spread your fire, how are you going to take over something that size?”

  “By getting in early,” Amelia said, her gleaming eyes more serious than Marci had ever seen. “The return of magic is a once-in-eternity opportunity, Marci. That’s why I was willing to risk everything for this. Somewhere out there is an enormous vessel for a dragon spirit, and this is the only moment in history that it will ever be half full. If I can get in there at the right moment and spread my fire through the magic before it develops a consciousness of its own, I won’t have to take over anything. I’ll just be the mind that’s already there when the new spirit wakes up. Once that happens, we’ll blend together, and its magic should naturally become mine. That’s what I’m here for. That’s the trick. Other than the nature of the force that carves their vessels, there’s no actual difference between a lake spirit and a Mortal one. They’re both just craters in the floor of the Sea of Magic that fill up and get a personality. Dragons can’t dig out a spirit because this isn’t our world, but if I can take over the one that humans dug for us and fill it with real dragon fire, the end result should be a spirit of dragons by dragons, just like every other animal spirit on this planet. And once we’ve got that—”

  “You’ll be a native species,” Marci finished excitedly.

  “Better,” Amelia said with a grin. “We’ll be rooted here. All of us. They all might burn individually, but every dragon’s fire sparked from the same original source: the magic of our home plane. The power that birthed us still burns in every dragon. It’s a thin connection, but if my theory is correct, that shared inheritance means that if I take over that spirit, it won’t just be me and my fire. It’ll be all of us. I’ll become the tie that binds dragonkind to the magic of this plane. We’ll no longer be stunted and limited to whatever power we can scrape together or cook up on our own. We’ll be home again, dragons of this plane, and it’ll all be thanks to me.” She took a deep breath, amber eyes gleaming. “I’ll be their god.”

  Marci sighed. So that’s what this was about. “I knew all that ‘saving the species’ stuff was too altruistic for you.”

  “I’d hardly be a dragon if there wasn’t something in it for me,” Amelia said unapologetically. “And it’s not as though I’m being underhanded. I’m the one who had the idea and who took the ultimate risk—it’s only fair that I should reap the rewards. Besides, it really is good for everyone. The whole world benefits when dragons become invested in our mutual long-term future, not to mention live long enough to grow out of our rampant megalomania stage.”

  “Do you grow out of that?” Myron asked sarcastically.

  “We mellow with age,” Amelia replied with a sniff. “Just look at me. My play to become the god of dragons was all wrapped up in the greater good. I’m practically a saint.”

  Marci had to laugh at that. “At least now we know you weren’t kidding when you said you had bigger ambitions than Heartstriker.”

  “Please,” Amelia said, disgusted. “I never wanted Bethesda’s job, and I think Bob owes Julius an apology for saddling him with that dumpster fire of a clan. Thi
s is way better. If I can pull this off, not only will I be the god who solved the deepest existential crisis of our species, I’ll be a spirit, which means I’ll be truly immortal. Even if someone does manage to kill me, I’ll just respawn in my domain. The only downside is that I could technically be bound by a mage, but I’ve never had a problem managing humans, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. Certainly worth the risk to lock in this much power and put my entire species in my debt.” She winked at Marci. “That’s what I call a win-win.”

  Marci rolled her eyes. Amelia looked disgustingly pleased with herself, but while she didn’t like that the dragon had kept her in the dark about her true intentions, she didn’t actually have a problem with Amelia’s plan. It felt a little questionable to take over the Spirit of Dragons before it could wake up, but considering there wouldn’t even be a spirit of dragons without actual dragons, it could be argued that it was their spirit already. In any case, dragons needed a way to integrate, because after ten thousand years, they were definitely here to stay. The sooner they got properly merged into the native magic, the more peaceful and better off everything would be.

  If it worked.

  “Not that I doubt your brilliance, Amelia,” Marci said, “but how are you actually going to pull this off? I got you into the Heart of the World, but there’s still a lot of whirlpools out there, and even if you can find the right vessel, how are you getting inside? This place is a model, not the real thing. You can’t just dive in.”

  “Actually, that’s exactly what I plan to do,” Amelia said. “Remember, this model is not to scale. Considering how big the Sea of Magic is, that’s a critical advantage. I might fly for years without finding anything outside, but in here, everything’s all nicely squished together.” She smiled at the sea. “I bet if I fly out into that wild blue yonder, I’ll find my vessel. After that, it’s just a matter of winging it.”