“Fascinating.” Katie smiled. “I’ve only ever seen the claws of adult dragons and only from a distance or if they’re dead.” She continued to make sketches, documenting the changes, both subtle and obvious, as thoroughly as she could.
“Now,” Timmy said. “Let’s take a look at some of those new abilities of yours, Spot. You’ve awakened a few of them.”
The young dragon brightened – literally – at the chance to show off some of his new powers. Okay.
Over the course of the next hour or two, they learned several important things. Spot had an astral form that let him turn intangible for short periods of time, and it worked in a manner similar to normal astral projection, which made Timmy even gladder he’d asked Vicky to help teach him. While Spot was intangible, physical attacks were basically useless against him. He could also go through walls and other obstacles. However, techniques capable of damaging or interfering with an astral being were still capable of affecting him. For instance, he couldn’t go through a wall if it was covered in runes and seals designed to repel spirits and other astral entities. Thankfully, his draconic toughness still came into play, so even an attack designed to harm astral beings was unlikely to do much damage. Spot also had a form of astral sight, which let him see the ‘light’ of people’s souls. It could see through walls and other obstructions, and it could also detect astral beings that were invisible to the naked eye, such as spirits and ghosts. His healing fire had also grown stronger, and it was even stronger if he used it while he was in his astral form. However, Timmy still didn’t understand why Spot’s colouration reversed when he took on his astral form. It wasn’t something that happened to Vicky or other mages with astral magic, but it could easily be yet another weird dragon thing.
“Okay, you’re free to go, Spot,” Timmy said as he gave the dragon one last cookie. He’d have to thank Alicia later for making a special batch just for this. “Thanks for letting us take some measurements and do some tests.”
The dragon chirped happily and padded off, most likely to go find Chomp. The pair was close friends, and there was plenty for a three-headed dog and a dragon to do in and around the castle. Knowing Avraniel, the three of them would probably go for a jaunt in the forest. They might go hunting, or they might simply go for a stroll. Hopefully, Spot would learn to alter his size – an ability common to astral dragons – since there would eventually come a time when he would be too big to fit in the castle, and the dragon loved to spend time with everyone.
“Dragons are strange,” Katie said. “But really interesting too.”
“Yes,” Timmy replied, ruffling her hair and then ducking to avoid her shadows. “They are.”
* * *
Old Man took a deep breath and centred himself. Magic was as much about being in the correct state of mind as anything else, especially when it involved phenomena as esoteric as warping space and time. And time… time had a way of dulling even the sharpest blade. He was still formidable, but old age had robbed him of much of his strength. True, he’d yet to meet an opponent capable of taking advantage of his decline, but he had once been far more dangerous than he was now. Nowhere were the ravages of age felt so keenly as with his ability to manipulate time. Still, if their most recent mission had taught him anything, it was that he would need his magic – all of it – to keep the happiness he had found and the friends he had made.
A slow, bittersweet smile crossed his lips. When he had first met Timmy and the others, he had seen a way to achieve a meaningful and worthy death. He had been certain that in their company he would finally meet an opponent he could not best. What could be finer than a death in service to a noble cause? Yet now he found himself wishing for something more. But if he wished to have it, then he would have to live through the coming war and ensure that all of the others did too. And for that, he would need all of his strength. He would never again achieve the heights he had known in his prime. No warrior could conquer time, and humans were not elves or dragons when it came to longevity. His life was, in the grand scheme of things, fleeting. However, he could still improve. Hopefully, that would be enough. Hopefully, this old body of his could work a few more miracles.
Time manipulation on a large scale was not easy. He would have to ease himself into it once again. Yet as he watched the leaves tumble through the air around him, he was reminded yet again that every journey began with a single step, that practice made perfect. As a boy, he had not always been the finest swordsman amongst his peers. Yet by the time he was fifteen, there had not been a single man or woman in his clan who could best him. By the time he was eighteen, he was, without question, the finest swordsman in his nation. And by the time he was in his twenties? He doubted there had ever been a swordsman quite as good as he had been in his prime.
He watched the leaves for a moment longer and then flared his magic. Time stopped. Slowly, carefully, he plucked the leaves out of the air. Sweat broke out across his brow as the currents of time fought his control. Oh, yes, he was not nearly as strong as he had been, and the area he could affect was relatively small, yet with practice, he could regain some of his former strength. He caught sight of a bird that his magic had paused in mid-flight. Its feathers were such a lovely shade of brown. As his magic faded, his mind drifted to the possible future he’d seen in the realm of the cosmic fungi. If the brooch on his clothes was anything to go by, then there was still a chance for him to correct his old mistakes. But he’d have to live long enough to do it.
Old Man looked up at the sky. He had often wondered if the princess had ever looked up at the same sky as him. Well, she wouldn’t be a princess anymore. She wouldn’t even be an empress. Her children would long since have taken over. Indeed, he had heard faint whispers of the prosperity currently enjoyed by his homeland after so many years of constant, raging war. It made the pain of leaving bearable, to know that he had made the right choice, that everything he had fought for – that his friends had bled and died for – had not been in vain.
He called on his magic again. Even in his prime, he had not been strong enough to save all of those who had trusted him. This time, he was far older but also far more experienced. What time had robbed him of in strength, it had given to him in cunning and wisdom. He might even have to ask Timmy to acquire some armour from his homeland. If he was going to take up the mantle of the warrior again, then he should at least try to dress the part. Or perhaps he could ask the rats. After all, they came from his homeland. It made him wonder if they had the banners of the Bulwark. When the Bulwark of Cherry Blossoms had fallen, the legendary banners that had flown within its halls had never been found. No one would ever have dared to destroy them, for each was a priceless treasure and a sign of legitimacy that any usurper would have killed to possess. Yet the rumours had always been that a clan of ninja rats had served the lord of the Bulwark, and from what the ninja rats had told him of their past, they were most likely that clan.
Knowing how fanatically loyal they were, he found it difficult to imagine the ninja rats had abandoned the lord they served. It was likely that their lord, known as an honourable and compassionate man, had instead ordered them to flee rather than die alongside him in a hopeless defence. Such an order would have been all but unbearable, but the rats would have obeyed. But even if they were ordered to forsake their master, there was no way they would allow another to lay claim to the banners their master’s lineage had painstakingly won over the centuries. He would have to ask Rembrandt about it.
Old Man worked on his magic over and over again until he was exhausted. It was a strange but pleasant feeling. For too long, he had neglected this aspect of his magic since he had seldom needed it. His strength, diminished as it was, was still more than enough to crush any regular foe, and even the elite he’d faced from the empire thus far had not been enough to force him to use it. Now, however, he might need it again. His fighting days were not yet done, and if he was to fight, then he would do so to the best of his ability. A group of ninja rats arrived, n
o doubt drawn by the magic he’d been using. He smiled. What better way to test himself than against such skilled opponents?
“Might I have your assistance?” Old Man asked.
They smiled and drew their weapons. They knew what he had been doing, and they too could see the storm on the horizon. They had lost their home and the master they served once. Never again would they allow such a tragedy to befall them. They would die first – all of them – before they gave up the happiness and purpose they had found. It was a sentiment he shared. His lips twitched. To think he would find another reason to live so close to the end of his life. Fate truly was a peculiar thing.
* * *
Emperor William Winston Wesley Wilbur Waverton of the Eternal Empire was not a happy emperor. No. He was the very opposite of happy. As a child, he’d heard stories of the Sky City, the legendary flying fortress of the dwarves that had mysteriously vanished before it could see combat in the First War. It had not been seen since, and it had become an object of fascination – and obsession – amongst artificers and mages in the years that followed. How had the dwarves managed to build it? Even now, centuries later, no one had come even close to building a flying object of similar size and mass.
William had spent large sums of money during his younger years in efforts to replicate the Sky City. To him the benefits were obvious. Aerial troops were extremely powerful, and battles could often be won fairly easily if aerial superiority could be achieved without the complete loss of accompanying ground forces. Conventional grounds troops were fairly useless against them, and not all mages were useful against airborne targets either. Put a siege mage on top of a griffin, and the enemy were doomed unless they could bring the griffin down even if there were thousands of them. The truth of his beliefs had been confirmed shortly after his ascension to the throne. In a campaign to crush a rebellion, his expanded aerial forces had devastated enemy formations and fortifications, allowing him to obliterate the rebellion with far less manpower and far fewer casualties than most had expected. It had forced his political opponents to take him seriously despite his youth at the time. The conflicts that had followed had only strengthened his belief in the importance of aerial troops.
A flying city was even more powerful, and it would have solved all of his problems. His aerial troops would have somewhere to stay that was safe from attack from ground-based opponents, and he could simply heap siege weaponry and mages on the flying city to devastate his enemies. It would be perfect. Indeed, this exact line of reasoning explained why dragons were the apex predators of the world.
A dragon could fly, rendering it immune to the efforts of most of its opponents once it was in the air. A dragon’s fire was not only powerful but also capable of striking multiple targets at significant range. Add to that their supreme speed, endurance, and agility in the air, and it was little wonder that a dragon could slaughter almost anything with ease. On the off chance that someone actually managed to land a hit, dragon scales were proof against all but the mightiest of weapons.
The Sky City could be become his dragon – a dragon loyal to the empire and capable of ensuring his many dreams for the empire came true.
So reading the reports and realising what had happened made it difficult to see through the cloud of rage that had fallen over him. It was only his training and iron-will that allowed him to clamp down on his fury. Reckless anger would only lead to defeat. He had learned that lesson not only in the classroom but also on the battlefield and in the political arena. He would need to think clearly to find a solution to this problem.
“So… you mean to tell me that the Sky City literally dropped into our laps and we lost it?” William’s teeth ground together so hard that he would probably have to see a dentist about it later. It was okay. He was the emperor. He could afford it. “Is that what you’re saying?”
Lord Carlton, a burly man who had served first as one of his tutors and as one of his father’s most esteemed generals and Minister of War, nodded sharply. “Yes, Your Majesty. I accept full responsibility –”
William snarled. “You will do no such thing! I’m going to have to make an example of whoever was in charge of this debacle, and you’re far too good at your job to lose. I need you in this upcoming war. I can find a suitable scapegoat.” He leaned back on his throne and closed his eyes, deep in thought. “Everything you did was correct. It would have been excellent if you and more of our elites could have arrived in person, but our mages determined that teleportation magic would be unwise. I remember them saying something about dimensional distortions and eldritch powers. The exact details escape me, but the point is, they were all convinced that attempting to teleport anywhere near the Sky City would have been a fatal mistake.”
Lord Carlton, upon being notified of the Sky City’s appearance by his subordinates, had immediately ordered all available forces to converge on it with all speed and haste and to either seize it or bring it down by any means necessary. He had even gone so far as to requisition all aerial troops from the surrounding areas to help in the fight. This… disaster was not his fault. His minister had seen a golden opportunity and had correctly sought to seize it. Simply allowing the Sky City to leave was not something they could do, and its inability to use its weaponry or engines at the start of the battle had only confirmed attacking was the correct decision.
Unfortunately, Lord Carlton, an outstanding field commander and excellent strategist and tactician, had not been in the area. Instead, he had been forced to delegate command while he and more of the empire’s elites did their best to get there in time to contribute. Alas, they had not been able to make it there in time, and the local commanders had made an absolute mess of it.
“No, the fault for this disaster is with those who commanded the battle itself. You were correct to delegate command. Commanding a battle from thousands of miles away is lunacy. Unfortunately, the officers in the area proved entirely insufficient for the task despite the general guidance you offered and the many resources you ensured would arrive in time to contribute.”
“We have yet to get a complete picture of what happened…”
“Our casualties are severe. The exact severity hardly matters at this point. Setting aside the incompetence of the commanding officers, the aerial troops we dispatched were all experienced and skilled, and our sailors were likewise battle-tested veterans. The majority of the fleet is at the bottom of the ocean, and our aerial forces suffered grievous losses. The naval base… I’ve been told it resembles a giant crater.”
“In fairness to the commanding officer,” Lord Carlton said carefully. “Although mistakes were made, the Sky City would still have been ours if not for the quicker than expected arrival of reinforcements from Everton and the Shimmering Isles to counter our own reinforcements.”
The Minister of Information cleared his throat. “And I can confirm that the initial reports are correct – those forces were led by Councillor Winters.”
“By the gods,” the emperor muttered. “No wonder all of the Lords of Magic we sent are either dead or too badly wounded to be of further use until they’re healed. That bitch is far too powerful and skilled for them to deal with. Even I would be wary of facing her alone.” It went unspoken that the emperor was the most powerful mage in the empire. The Lords of Magic were the elite of the elite, but he doubted there were more than a handful who could face the councillor in single combat and have any hope of winning. Eliminating her would require a task force and a properly planned ambush although he felt he could best her if necessary. However, the battle would be far too close for his liking, and as the emperor, he could not simply take the field of battle on a whim. “But there is more, is there not? The initial reports included talk of a… monster of some kind.”
“Yes. An eldritch entity that was roughly two miles tall appeared alongside the Sky City. It proceeded to engage the fleet and attack the naval base before eventually being brought down after the Sky City had escaped. It subsequently exploded, inflicting i
ncredible damage on the already battered naval base. At this point, I’d call the area a complete loss, and our mages are reporting troubling spatial and temporal phenomena.” The Minister of Information paused. “We have also confirmed reports that the necromancer – Lord Bolton – and his companion were present for the battle.”
“Ah, yes… the shadow councillor.” William scowled. After the loss of the Eye of the Abyss, he and his advisors had theorised that Lord Bolton, Grand Necromancer and Lord of Black Tower Castle, was in fact a shadow member of the Council, someone who was secretly part of the Council, who could be trusted to work in the shadows and do what needed to be done – regardless of the morality or legality involved. “Why am I not surprised?”
“It would explain a lot,” the Minister of Information continued. “Everton must have located the Sky City somehow, and who better to retrieve it than a necromancer who lives in a castle built atop lightless chasms of unfathomable horror full of eldritch monstrosities – to say nothing of the ancient vampire who was alive when the Sky City was built. The Council knows war is coming, so they want a trump card. What better trump card than a flying fortress? With its mobility and firepower, the Sky City will be a grave threat once it has been repaired.”
“Their dragon has also grown more powerful, as has the elf,” Lord Carlton added. “Our troops spoke of explosions that consumed the very sky.”
Two Necromancers, a Dwarf Kingdom, and a Sky City Page 65