Hatchling

by Lupine King

  The leader of the troops was obviously not an ordinary character. He wore a bright silvery helm. It was a beautiful, ornate thing with a single sheet of metal covering his neck and face. It shielded his cheeks whilst leaving only a hard strip covering his nose. The dome of the helmet was also a strange affair with the front displaying a large horn after which a plume of metal bristles began ending in the back with a short tassel. The rest of his armour run along similar lines.

  His shoulders and torso were covered in the same decorated silvery metal and he wore large gauntlets that extended to his elbows. The only other pieces he wore were tassets, poleyns, greaves and sabatons all silvery as well. One did not have to examine the StormHawk emblazoned on his left breast to know he was Steelborn.

  The two men exchanged harsh whispers before the silver-clad man reared his mount and turned to trot away. Five mounted knights from him original troop immediately followed him along with the new squad and their leader.

  THE ARMED MEN RUSHED straight to Magistrate Valan's courtyard. There the sound of stomping from the mounts and armed men was heard through most of the household causing many to come out to see the arrivals. They were unafraid because the guardsmen had not stopped them so they were probably not enemies. Still, they were somewhat cautious.

  The watchers were treated to the sight of seven mounted dragoons and a squad of infantrymen. The lead dragoon was a man in silvery Steelborn armour atop a massive Hoarfrost Spikesaur. The beast was gigantic, a full metre and half at its withers and fourteen metres from head to tail. Covered in large, dense white scales it was a fearsome beast.

  Armoured, fast, with incredible stamina and the ability to use ice attributed attacks, it was a perfect battle mount. It was also a daemon, a special beast that was like to normal beasts what cultivators were to normal humans. In its case it was a saur, a class of lizard daemon feared among the reptilian species.

  The highest class of reptilian daemons were the dragons separated into three classes, the drakes, the drakons and the wyrms. Lizard daemons despite not being as highly regarded were similar. They were divided into saurs, crocs and geckos.

  The saurs were the land-based lizards and spikesaurs was fearsome even among them. They were ideal battle beasts and mounts, able to fill both roles with ease. The spikesaur had superior attack and defensive abilities. It had a long, ridged, massive prehensile tail that made up about two-thirds of its entire body length, a shocking nine and a half metres.

  This tail is used as a whip or bludgeon and its dagger-like claws and teeth were fully capable of ripping heavily armoured men to shreds. As for its scales, they were tougher than stone. Not to mention that this was Hoarfrost. The ice attributed variety, possessing all that entailed.

  Naturally strong and fast, this particular saur could run more than twice as fast as a normal horse whilst comfortably carrying thirty times its carry weight. Plus, it was a fully trained battle mount of a high ranking military officer. But its true value as a mount came from its sheer endurance, resilience and mobility.

  A horse could maybe move at nearly fifty kilometres per hour unburdened at full gallop but it would never be able to maintain this speed for an extended period of time. The spikesaur was different. It could run at max speed for a day or two, heavily burdened, with little strain.

  It was also armoured thanks to its scales and its massive, toed feet allowed it move on an incredible variety of terrain. The lizard could move on rocky, marshy, flat, loose, sloped and frozen ground. It was these factors that made saurs, in general, the preferred mount of Bathar's elite heavy dragoon battalion—The Saurians.

  However, even among saurs, the Hoarfrost Spikesaur was in a class of its own. Its scales were tougher, it had a crown of savage spikes on its head and a few other parts of its body and could use ice attributed daemonic arts. In addition to this, the particular specimen that had been ridden into the magistrate's yard was an extremely powerful and beautiful one. There could not be more than three such beasts in the whole city let alone one with an actual master serving in the military.

  Seeing it also dispelled any wariness that the members of the household could have had. The daemon, as well as its rider of the beast, was familiar to them. Even Valerian who had been drawn out by the commotion immediately went back to his courtyard to continue his training, leaving Richard to handle it.

  Valerian had long held Jonas Steelborn, Lord tier arcanist and second circle array master as arguably the most famous of the relatives he had met—arguably. The reason for the use of this term was because of the man who had just ridden in on his high-class battle mount.

  Vorm Steelborn, King tier arcanist and commander of the Viscount's forces of DaleGuard's military. Array masters were very highly reputed and Jonas was recognised as the most gifted one in his generation. However, Vorm was an Arcane King.

  Arcane King! The very words made the bones of many shudder in admiration and even Valerian was not exempt. Before he had just seen it as a lofty title for a great cultivator but now that he was an arcanist himself, he finally understood what it really meant. The tiers in cultivation were not just steps on a ladder. Each implied a certain level of power and comprehension of the mysteries that was beyond his current understanding.

  That fact that Vorm had achieved this alone marked him as a gifted talent and the fact that he did so before the age of fifty marked him as a prodigy. Not that Jonas was any less of one. He was an Arcane Lord, a veritable level of power but the only reason he could even be mentioned in the same breath as someone so far above him in strength and status was due to his skill as an array master. The worth of a second circle array master did not lose out to that of an Arcane King.

  Richard walked up to the assembled men calling out joyfully, for him at least. “Vorm!”

  The armoured knight leapt off his mount replying in turn, “Richard!”

  “Is uncle in?” he asked in addition.

  Richard had some inkling as to what this visit was about so he nodded and motioned him over. “Come.”

  He led his cousin into the manor. Those who observed saw that as they crossed the threshold Vorm's unique helmet suddenly shimmered and liquefied, running down his neck to become part of his breastplate. It was no trick of the light. His breastplate liquefied next triggering the entire ensemble to do same. The silvery liquid swirled around him once before being sucked into the ring on his right index finger.

  FOURTEEN

  Commander Vorm's Mission

  ARMOUR PUT AWAY, VORM allowed himself to be ushered in to meet his uncle. His own father had been the magistrate's elder brother. Sadly, he died young. Thus, even though Vorm grew up with his mother he had an incomparably precious relationship with his uncle. Valan was not just his uncle, he was also his teacher and his father figure.

  He counted himself as fortunate. His father may have died but having Valan as his uncle afforded him the things that made him who he was today. He was the leader of Cragsveil's military, commanding four thousand, five hundred men and women. What some called the O'be clan curse had worked in his favour turning him into a recognised powerhouse with abilities others could never fathom. Again, it was Valan who gave him the guidance necessary for that to happen.

  When a subordinate informed him of the magistrate's troubles he tossed everything aside. Despite coming home from an extended deployment and a lengthy campaign he did not go home to rest or to his wife and children. Instead, he rushed to his uncle's house. This was more than enough to show how much he valued this particular uncle of his.

  “So ... you were gone for quite a while this time but I did not hear any news of battle at the Pronged Gap!” Richard inquired.

  “There was none”, he answered.

  “I was about to head back when I received intel that a Dire Daemon had made its way over the boundary and was causing chaos along the East. I decided to deal with that before coming home. It took longer than expected.”

  Richard chuckled, a single dire daemon would nev
er delay him that long. “A Horde Lorde huh? The newcomers are always so brash. They honestly think that despite the fact they could not make it out in the Wildlands they can run rampant here.”

  Vorm could not help but smile. He shared that opinion. Still, this particular Horde Lorde had some reason to be cocky. It had many powerful subordinates and a proper grasp of the properties of its element. It would probably have risen to the profound tier soon. Thankfully he got there in time to stop it.

  The two men had never truly been close but they had similar dispositions. Nevertheless, they took the time to catch up a bit before Valan came out to meet him. Once the old man came, however, Richard made an excuse to leave knowing that they needed to speak privately.

  “Good morning uncle!” Vorm began.

  “Good morning Vorm. Hope all is well”, the magistrate answered casually.

  “All is well Uncle. I have come about the matters concerning Valerian and yourself”, Vorm stated simply. He had to cut to the chase. If he did not and ended up drawn into the magistrate's pace it would be dinner before they were done.

  “Ah! As I suspected. Tell me, what have you heard?” the magistrate added.

  “I learnt of Valerian's outstanding prospects, of his dual force nature and the rumours of his crippling disability”, he answered.

  The magistrate's eyes hardened. It was nearly imperceptible but Vorm caught it. Not only was he that good but he had also known the man all his life. He would not dare say that the man was laid bare before him but he could certainly notice when he hid something especially now when he was watching closely for a reaction.

  “Valerian is not crippled. His is a problem stemming from his mother's legacy”, the old man stated matter of factly.

  “Yes. I heard that too. Only I was told it was an excuse you were using to avoid admitting that your defective blood had been passed on” Vorm pushed.

  It seemed harsh but he knew from experience that he had to do it. He had to push his uncle in order to have the full story come out. He wanted that. Not an hour long lecture that would have them skim the subject and the issues involved then retiring for tea before a second session. He was here for information, not a lesson. He would get it.

  “What is it you wish to know Vorm?” the magistrate asked blandly.

  He was neither blind nor stupid. He knew exactly what his nephew was doing. He did not approve but he knew that the boy—no—man would keep pushing until he had his way. After he had tried so hard to teach him patience too.

  “Let's start with what happened exactly?” he replied finally leaning back in his chair.

  The magistrate did same reaching up to stroke his long beard as he did so. Then he set out to weave his tale. Vorm did not stop him. His uncle was the best narrator and storyteller he had ever met. He settled in looking forward to what he had to say. This led the magistrate to smile. Little Vorm always loved a story.

  “My dear nephew. I hope you remember my stance regarding cultivation and the proper age for children to start it”, he opened.

  “How could I not? Because of it, I only began cultivation when I was ten”, Vorm answered.

  “Good, good. Then, does it not strike you as odd that Valerian is cultivating at the age of eight?” he questioned with a small smile.

  Vorm was startled. It was only now he reflected on it that he realised that it was strange. His uncle had always maintained that it was stupid and unnecessary to make children begin cultivation before they were ten years old. He argued that true progress in cultivation only begun with the onset of puberty and anything before that would only help with the foundation. So apart from establishing some of the basics such as control, there was no basis for starting so early.

  This flew in the face of the general practice that had children begin as soon as they were able. However, the magistrate cared little about that. He pointed out that the overemphasis on cultivation was what allowed children to grow up empty-headed and ignorant. Besides the basic numbers and letters, the only things they knew had to do with cultivation. This was a serious shortcoming that could lead to problems in their future.

  The head start was not worth it in his opinion. Not when there would be next to no physical growth till puberty, meaning that training would be unable to show its results. Or the fact that it was during puberty that natural essence absorption peaked to facilitate the changes, making that the best time for even arcanists to train. Even a person's own essence would be stimulated during this period doubling the effects of all efforts.

  Thus, he felt that the years before were better spent on more scholarly and childish pursuits. If training the body and the essence was not very effective, why not focus on the mind. After all, these were children they were talking about. How many had the attention or comprehension to make any meaningful gains when they were forced to train instead of play at so young an age?

  However, if you spent time teaching them the things they would need as adults you would not only broaden the knowledge but their minds as well. This would help with their comprehensive abilities and develop them into more balanced adults.

  This was a conviction he had held for most of his life. A conviction that had caused Vorm, Richard, Jonas and even Valiant to be forced to wait until they were ten to even begin cultivation. They were forced to sit through boring lessons on politics, strategy, philosophy, cultivation theory and other such subjects whilst their colleagues were busy with their baptisms and transformations. You would have thought they were to become scholars.

  Nonetheless, the effects of their lessons revealed themselves when they began actual cultivation. It was like they cultivated their minds first before they progressed to their bodies and energies. Each of them was far ahead of those same peers who started before them.

  He was a medial Arcane King, a reputed spell caster and famed commander. If Richard had not suffered his injury he would definitely be a King as well. Jonas was an expert array master of the second circle, an achievement that could not be overpraised and Valiant ... he had outdone them all.

  For his uncle to go against his own convictions and let his grandson cultivate at his age, there had to be a reason. “Why?” he asked.

  “I see it's begun to dawn on you”, the magistrate said smiling. “I was forced to let Valerian start so early because of a small discovery we made nearly three months ago”. Then, he began to tell his nephew some of the events of the last two months.

  “You're saying that Valerian's body is somehow self-cultivating?” Vorm asked bewildered.

  The magistrate nodded sagely.

  “And that the reason you are buying all these resources is to provide it with the fuel it needs to continue?”

  Again the old man nodded.

  “You are sure that his condition has to with his mother and not yours? That it has nothing to do with the O'be curse?” Vorm asked for the second time.

  The magistrate looked annoyed. “Do you think that I of all people will be mistaken on this issue?”

  Vorm thought about it and decided that it was very, very unlikely. There was no one more knowledgeable about the O'be and their curse than his uncle. The man had searched and researched for so many years trying to understand his defect and the source of it. There was no way he would not be able to tell if Valerian's condition was similar to his or not.

  “Have you spoken to the elders? Get them to know what is happening. With their support you will probably find other ways to help Valerian” he suggested.

  The magistrate merely snorted in anger. “The elders! Forget them! Most of them do not even know about Valerian's special physique. That was classified a secret on par with the O'be legacy. When Valerian woke up and the problem was first discovered I broached the issue. They actually nearly considered it. Then they remembered that I was a crippled wastrel and immediately concluded that Valerian's problem was my fault”.

  As he spoke he could not but think back to the moment when the great elder pulled him outside. Unlike the ignora
nt Elder Grant, she as a great elder was in the know about the true nature of his condition and the O'be legacy. But all she did was ask whether he was sure that Valerian's condition had nothing to do with the O'be curse. He assured her that it was not.

  However, even as he spoke he could see the disbelief on her face. He knew then and there that he wasting his breath. Which was easier to believe? That the inability to move qi was related to a mystery legacy belonging to a missing woman of whom little was known or to the one curse they knew with similar effects. The great elder looked at him and informed him that be that as it may the clan would have to withdraw its support. It could not afford to waste resources.

  The meeting held later was just a formality. The issue had been decided there. The elders were already of a mind that Valerian was as crippled as he was and were prepared to cut their losses early. They only held off on his arcane cultivation because they did not want to be seen doing so without proper proof. But to them, there was no need. Not when it was so obvious.

  At first, Valan had been infuriated but eventually, he too began to doubt. Could Valerian's condition really be traced back to him? It would fit. He knew nothing about his daughter-in-law's true origins. Who is to say she even had a legacy? What if this was all just another form of the curse?

  Thankfully, good news came just in time to break him from his downward spiral. From that moment he knew what to do.

  Vorm looked at his uncle unsure of what to say. He knew how touchy the subject was but he was not sure that the old man was making the right decision. To bet everything on an untried theory was too reckless. Uncle Valan did not do reckless.

  “Are you sure there is no other way? Perhaps we should invite some experts to come and examine the boy. They could find something to help”, he broached.

  “Find what?” the magistrate barked.

  “I have narrowed the problem to a blood legacy he inherited from his mother but without knowing what that legacy is we can do nothing. It could be that he needs a special cultivating method, or a special device, or substance, or environment or any other number of things. We cannot know because we have no idea what the legacy is.