Maefus strode landed outside the oddly-shaped slate tower and unleashed his magic, his enormous body glowing as it puddled, pooled and ran, shrinking down until he reappeared in the guise of a wizened old lizardman in maroon robes and tunic. He detested morphing, but wouldn't otherwise fit within the structure. He pounded on the tower's angular wooden door until it was drawn open by a dapper-looking, pale-skinned humanoid with blazing, fire-rimmed eyes and burning hands in a fine hand tailored suit.
The flame-eyed man reeked of charred meat, burning hair. Maefus wrinkled up his snout. "Putrid today, aren't we, Jago?" The man named Jago smirked haughtily.
"Not very careful words for one who clearly comes to speak with the Destroyer," he said, voice a match to his high-brow clothing and physical demeanor. Even Maefus, an ancient among dragons, considered this cretin stuffier than most. Yet its last words caught Maefus's attention more than the tone in which they were spoken.
"Why do you call him so?"
"He has heard tell that such is a name for him prevalent among faerie now. He finds it suitable. Now, what news have you? Or do you suppose it of sufficient import that I should allow you into chambers yourself?"
"It is as you speak in second asking, Jago," said Maefus, his tone less harsh. "Convey to him that I offer bond of my core to its import. He will know what this means." The flame-eyed attendant made a 'hrmm' noise in his throat and closed the door. Maefus sat on the top step, waiting patiently. He had learned much of patience in his long life. For dragons, impatience often equalled death.
It was nearly an hour before Jago returned. When he opened the door, his hands were covered in leather gloves, and his eyes were quite ordinary, a bright green color to the irises. "Follow me, and mind you don't stray from the path I walk. It could get dicey if you do." Maefus got up with a grunt and followed Jago inside.
Immediately inside, Maefus followed Jago onto a wooden walkway like a gangplank, on either side of which was simply empty darkness. The walkway was only a couple of feet wide, and looking down over the side, the morphed dragon could see no indication of a bottom. For the first time in ages, he felt a touch of fear. Noranet, the red Eldest, had tried to convey to Maefus once how unbelievably worrisome it was to be around the Great One; the ancient wyrm now had an inkling why.
After what felt like nearly a mile, the gangplank and darkness gave way to a marble platform, at the back of which stood a flat white stone wall with an open closet. Maefus recognized it from tales of Mortal Plane- an elevator. Jago stepped inside and smiled wickedly at him.
"Going up," he cooed. Maefus stepped inside, the doors closed, and he ascended toward the Destroyer. He began questioning the wisdom of coming here.
Kathy watched the sun making its slow descent below the lip of the horizon, listening to the gentle swish of the lake water washing up the beach along the strand. It was a lovely combination, particularly when paired with the scent of freshly cut peaches wafting through the air.
Yet a subtle pressure, the sense of eyes upon her, forced her to look back over her shoulder. The source of the scent and sense of being watched stood there, King Ovin, his hands thrust in the pockets of grubby off-white trousers. She realized she was staring when he offered her a wry grin and made his own eyes goggle widely at her.
"Sorry," she said, looking back at the sunset. "Didn't mean to stare."
"It's quite all right, Lady Potts," he replied, hunkering down beside her in the sand. "Remarkable, isn't it, that a place like this exists within the web he's got me trapped inside of."
"He didn't make all of this, did he?"
"No, he didn't. That isn't within his abilities to control, just the exterior and about three-quarters of what goes in. The rest resides in the hands of chance and the gods." He reached over and took up a stone from the sand, lofting it up and down to test its weight. He tossed it out over the water, and Kathy whistled as it dropped in without making a splash.
"Neat trick."
"I didn't do that," said Ovin. "The principles of physics play differently here." She scoffed, looking shocked at him. "What? Surprised that a creature of magic knows of science?"
"A little, yeah."
"Science is just magic with a host of rules and guidelines," Ovin said amiably, smiling. Kathy looked away, considering this a moment. After a minute, Ovin stood up. "You'll be up soon from your nap. Listen carefully to what I tell you now; things will be bad for you when you come here. Be prepared for the worst. And most importantly, keep moving. You can't stay in any one place too long."
"Why?"
"Because there are things here that hunt," King Ovin said, eyes flaring wide, mouth set in a stern frown. "Even here they will eventually show up, looking for me." The dream-world began wavering, and Kathy groaned, sitting up on the old bed she and Byron shared.
She resolved to tell him about her dream when he awoke. It was only a matter of waiting for him to get up.
Daggeuro stood on the porch fronting the inn, coffee in hand, light breeze blowing over him. His thoughts turned toward the last fifty years, the losses, the battles, the slaughters he'd been involved in. So much depends on us now, he thought. Too much. He had always suspected King Ovin was still alive, but knowing it for certain gave him the hope he needed to keep on, to remain cautious. Without it, he might have led the company on a charge at the command centers of the loyalists.
He withdrew from one of his pouches the calendar booklet he used to keep track of time. In four days, according to his book, the Faded Army would be sending a sizable strike force at a command outpost in the north-central plains. It was one of the only places on the continent where the dragons allowed more than twenty people to gather. Sixty assorted men and women of faerie, along with seven wee folken, would be part of the team. He wondered how their morale might be improved if they knew King Ovin was still alive.
"Your thoughts wander, father," Rasmus said, stepping out onto the porch with him. "I still cannot read them, but can sense your longing." Daggeuro looked over at his youngest child, who had, for the time, removed his armor. He was a small boy, frail of build. His ears were decidedly more pointy than Turot or Marianna's, closer to his mother's in appearance. Daggeuro always found this curious.
"You're getting better at the High Mind. That's good. What brings you to me, son?"
"I am troubled still by what I did to the Regent," Rasmus said plainly. He looked out at the empty street, squinting against the wind. "I, crushed him like a food can."
"No, son, you didn't. You crushed his armor. There is a difference. The High Mind cannot be used like that on living things, remember? Sure, you can lift and throw them, dig into their emotions and thoughts. In time, you may yet develop the power to control living beings to a degree, but mostly through manipulating their thoughts. And Ramsus, make no mistake," Daggeuro said, his tone dropping, becoming steely. "If the roles were reversed, the Regent would have slain us all."
Ramsus considered this silently, peering out at the town. Eventually he spoke again. "There is one thing more that troubles me, father. The human man. I catch glimmers of his thoughts, and to say he is strange is putting it mildly."
"He is ill," Daggeuro replied.
"Perhaps. He also frightened the dragon," Ramsus said. "His power is not of our world, is it?"
"No. Enough questions on this line, son. Get your armor and do some drills with Turot." The boy disappeared inside, leaving Daggeuro alone once more. He walked slowly out into the middle of the street and scanned the skies overhead, spotting nothing out of the ordinary. "Small favors," he muttered to himself.
Maefus stepped out of the elevator with Jago, who immediately took up a position next to the panel and stopped. Ahead stood a chamber filled with columns of all manner of material, shrouded in deep shadows fifty feet in. There was the beginning of steps leading up to a platform, the edge of which seemed to stop all light from passing. Two yellow gimlet lights, pinpricks from where he stood, glowed in that void.
"Come forth, Maefus," the owner of those eyes intoned, his voice light, jovial even. There was an undercurrent of falsehood in its cheerfulness, though. The Destroyer was a thing of obfuscation, clearly. "I have yet to have made your aquaintance." Maefus shuffled forth, stopping at the bottom of the steps and bending down to one knee.
"Hile, Destroyer, god of dragonkind, ruler of Ether Plane," Maefus rang out in his aged, gravelly voice. "I, Maefus the red, come before thee with ill news, brought me this day by Croag the green."
"Croag, you say? I have heard of this one. They say he is the most cunning and craftiest of his breed, despite not being Eldest. What says he?"
"He claims that early this day he came upon a human in Celia whose Awakened power is close in resemblance to your own," said Maefus. The lights flared, and Maefus heard something shift above, a shuffling motion.
"Truly? What did this human do, tell me, I beg," said the Destroyer, sounding almost giddy.
"He created from a card of some sort six vampires, which set upon Croag. Upon killing blows, the creatures disappeared, turning back into scraps of paper, which in turn turned to ashes. Croag said the magic used reminded him of what he has heard tell you can do."
"And for good reason," said the Destroyer, still lurking, unseen save for his glowing eyes, in the darkness above. "This is good, oh! This is too rich! Finally, a worthy game is afoot, yes! Maefus, I have an edict for you to carry to all others of your kin!"
"As you wish, my lordship. You need but say thy will, and it shall be done."
"No dragon is to molest or harass that human, or any who travel with him," the Destroyer said. "What the loyalists do doesn't matter; neither they nor any specter will be a match for him or any who would brave his company. This is my will!"
"My lord, if I may be so bold as to ask, what if he comes here," Maefus asked, rising to his feet.
"Oh, he will, Maefus. It's inevitable! You see, that human, Byron, has been cursing me since the day I gave him that power," said the Destroyer, chuckling in the dark, his humor fused with madness. "So let him come, if he wishes! I welcome our reunion!" The dragons' god cackled, and an unseen hand of force threw Maefus back toward the elevator, its power sufficient to push him all the way into its doors with a crash. Jago pushed the panel to open them, and he and Maefus scrambled inside.
As the doors whooshed shut, Jago shook his head and said, "I always hate it when he gets like this."
The next day saw Kathy and company away from the abandoned village, the resident of mayor's house having remained gone. His or her business was their own, and Kathy felt glad to be on the move again, making progress. She didn't mind the sense of isolation she felt on the road; in a place made for civilization, it made her uneasy.
The flat grasslands had done little to reclaim the beaten trade roads they walked upon, the way still clearly marked sporadically by aging, damaged wooden signs. Stubby hills south of their path showed up an hour into their travels, and Daggeuro remarked upon them.
"Those hills used to house most of the Hurik Clan of goblins," he said, as much to his children as to his human companions. Kathy remembered her encounters with the war-like Huriks, casting her mind back. They had struck her as curt, brutal little men, bordering on savages. "Their great forges and villages were all concentrated there, until the black dragon Rinpuk levelled them to make room for himself and his roost."
"Is he still there," Kathy asked quietly.
"No. Rinpuk is dead," Daggeuro rumbled, frowning. "Myself and a handful of other kennin, including the Axemaster and Spearmaster, put paid to him." Kathy had forgotten about his title as Blademaster of his race, and hearing of two other great warriors of his kind gladdened her. "They serve now in the Faded Army as my chief subordinates."
On they marched, their pace steady but not taxing. They stopped in the late afternoon to have a break and take a brief lunch, at which time Ramsus informed them all that he sensed others nearby. "Four of them, two men and two women," the young kennin said, biting into a banana. "They are all elves. Fear chokes them. I believe they are fleeing something, from the west."
"Probably specters," Selena said. "Kathy, can you send one of your figurines to look?" Kathy sent off one of her hummingbird figurines, brought to life by her magic. Her mind's eye, locked to the figurine, took in everything the bird-like object could discern. It took only seven minutes to spot the group of elves, all running, wounded, from a pair of gargantuan centipede beasts, which wriggled along close behind. Their path wound take them three-or-four hundred yards north of the group, if they stayed ahead of the creatures. Kathy willed the bird figurine to return and drew her mind back from it, relating what she'd seen to the group.
"We needn't concern ourselves unless the specters turn upon us," Daggeuro said, sipping water from one of his canteens. "Turot, Marianna, be ready." Kathy scoffed, swigging down the last of a can of Coke and getting up, adjusting her axe. "What are you doing, Kathy?"
"Those people need help," she replied sharply. "I never thought I'd see the day when you wouldn't charge off to offer it!"
"You also never thought you'd see my world reduced to this," Daggeuro snapped back, stepping right up to Kathy, glaring her in the eyes. "Do you think for a moment I enjoy making such decisions? Do you imagine I've become so ignoble?" Kathy took a step back, her cheeks flushed. She looked away from him.
"No," she whispered. "I'm, I'm sorry. I just hate thinking we," she began, stopping as screams tore the air a mile away. All eyes turned north, where they could just make out the centipede beasts thrashing and whirring about. Tears ran from Kathy's eyes. "Are they..."
"Yes," said Rasmus flatly. "They are dead." The specters turned north then, leaving the company alone. They didn't bother trying to continue their break, pulling themselves together and hitting the road again.
It has come to this, Kathy thought, staving off more tears.