Revaramek the Resplendent - Chapters One Hundred Twelve, and One Hundred Thirteen (Patreon)

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Chapter One Hundred Twelve

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Revaramek soared over golden sands. The mountains they traveled through days earlier were now but a ragged red-gray scar on the pale horizon. The desert stretched in all directions beneath him, marked with wave-like dunes, and strange, scraggly trees clustered around occasional pools of water. Though he flew high enough for the air to remain relatively cool, already the sun’s heat felt more intense against his wings.

The dragon was not looking forward to heat he expected to feel when he landed. Despite that he was thankful for the sun, for without its guidance he would have no way to tell which direction he was traveling. Flying above an ocean of sand made for even tougher navigation than the swamp for a creature who used landmarks as guideposts.

After the morning’s playful antics, a more somber sense had settled over everyone. Mirelle was silent much of the day. She clung to his back, watching the sand slide by beneath them. Nyramyn said little as well. Each time he glanced over at his mate, Nyramyn looked caught between wonder and terror. Her frills were flattened, her membrane-shielded eyes wide, and constantly darting. Each time they passed a tiny oasis, or the muddy remnants of some ephemeral pond, Nyramyn called to him and pointed it out. It was as if she was trying to convince herself she hadn’t made an immeasurable mistake by accompanying him out into this strange, dry world.

Though Revaramek had also spent his life in an inundated world, for Nyra it was different. While the marsh had all the water anyone would ever need, Nyra’s home was different. The swamp she grew up in was completely submerged. Where the marsh had as much land as water, the place they called the swamp was little more than peaks and islands drifting on a sea of black poison. Seeing a desert was strange for Revaramek, but for Nyra it must have been positively overwhelming. At least when she arrived the marsh, there was still water everywhere. And she had the added joy of being able to drink it all. But this place must have seemed like death itself to her.

“It’s alright, Nyra!” Revaramek offered her a comforting smile when she looked his way. “It’s alright!”

Nyramyn returned his grin, bowing her head a moment in silent gratitude. She drifted a little closer, speaking up after a few wings beats. “I’m starting to understand why you wanted me to stay behind.”

“I’m glad you came!” Revaramek smiled at her, watching her as he flew. It wasn’t as if there were any houses he had to worry about crashing into. “I’d have been lonely without you.” He switched over to the common tongue. “Mirelle would have driven me crazy if it was just us.”

Mirelle patted his neck. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you’re telling all manner of lies about me. But I assure you, you’d not the one who would have gone mad already. I could take so many tales about your delusions of grandeur before I’d crack!”

“Nonsense, Mirelle.” Revaramek arched his wing, pumping his wings. “You’d have been enthralled by mesmerizing and completely accurate stories of all my heroics!”

“More like I’d have been correcting them. I was present for most of your heroic moments, remember? And the ones I wasn’t present for-”

“Earned me a statue!”

Mirelle laughed, rubbing the scales of his neck. “So they did. And yet I suspect you’d still find reason to exaggerate your own contributions. Before long, you’ll be telling me not only did you trick Asterbury and strand him in the swamp, but that you bested him in battle shortly afterwards!”

“I did!” Revaramek cackled, though his laughter trailed off when painful memories sent sympathetic twinges through his ribs. “Well…I battled him, anyway. You know, that little bastard’s stronger than he looks.”

“I know, Rev.” Mirelle softened her tone, patting him. “I won’t say this often, but you’re very heroic.”

“Ooooh!” Revaramek clapped his foreoaws as he flew. “Say it again! Loudly, this time, so I have an excuse to translate for Nyra!”

“I suspect she already knows.” Mirelle laughed, and as she shifted her weight, her safety harness rubbed against him. “Besides, I could say, you’re as useful as breasts on a gryphon, and you’d still tell her I said you were heroic!”

Revaramek cocked his head, glancing back. “Gryphons don’t have breasts, Mirelle!”

“I know!” Mirelle leaned forward. “That’s the point of the-”

“Gryphon fledglings don’t drink milk!”

“Revaramek, I know, that’s-”

“You see, fledgling gryphons have beaks, and can eat solid food right from the moment they hatched.”

Mirelle grunted, sitting up straighter. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Or maybe their mothers have to eat it first and vomit it back up for them.”

“That’s it.” Mirelle yanked one of her safety straps, pretending to undo it. “I’m jumping to my death.”

“Look at you, making jokes about falling!” Revaramek curled his neck to grin at her. “Remember when we first met, and I yanked you into the sky? You should have heard yourself squeal! You’ve come so far!”

“And you should have heard the way you squealed when I kicked you in the balls after we landed.”

“That was two in one afternoon, Mirelle, I was starting to think you had anger management issues.”

Mirelle folded her arms, but the smile on her face belied her irritation. “And I’m starting to think I should make it two in one afternoon, again.”

“Technically it would be three.”

“I barely even tapped you the first time!”

“And also, technically, those occurred in the morning, so it would only be once in the afternoon.”

“Each time you open your mouth, the option gets more appealing.” Mirelle tilted her head. “Why don’t you ask Nyra?”

“A good idea, as clearly, she will leap to my defense!”

“Just like she did earlier?”

“That was different!”

“Which is why you’re asking her right now, right?” Mirelle cupped a hand to her ear. “Funny, I can’t hear her replying.”

Revaramek flared his bronze-eyed spines. “I shall ask her when the time is right.”

Mirelle laughed and gestured at the horizon. “Will you just watch where you’re doing, already?”

“Why?” The dragon cocked his head, grinning. “What am I going to hit up here?”

“Oh I dunno.” Mirelle waved a hand at his face. “Anotherhouse?”

“Nonsense, Mirelle, they don’t build houses in midair! That would be impossible.”

“Didn’t stop you from hitting one before.”

“Oh balls, Mirelle.” The dragon tossed his head. “I only flew into that home because I was busy laughing at his burning outhouse!”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Grinning, Mirelle pointed towards Nyramyn. “At least watch where you’re going so you don’t crash into your mate.”

Revaramek grunted, straightening his neck. He had to admit, that was a good reason to pay attention to his surroundings. “Alright, but I’m only doing it because I care about Nyra’s wellbeing, not because you’re bossing me around.”

“Revaramek!” Nyramyn glanced his way, matching his wing beats.

“I love the way she says your name.” Mirelle shifted her weight against him. “Her accent is so exotic. Re-VAR-ah-MEK.”

“Pronouncing it correctly is hardly exotic.” Revaramek slipped into the swamp dragon tongue to reply to Nyra. “Mirelle says, watch where you’re going.” He gave his mate a stern look. “It’s safer that way.”

Nyramyn hissed at him. “Look!”

“I am looking!” Revaramek flicked his frills out. “Mirelle and I were just having this conversation. It’s terribly unsafe to fly without looking where you’re going.”

Nyramyn gave a frustrated growl, then glanced at his rider. “Mee-rill!”

“Oooh, I love the way she says my name, too. What is it, Nyra?” Mirelle twisted around on Revaramek’s back, so that Nyra would know she had her attention.

Nyra banked away to half-expose her underside, and point with a forepaw towards the horizon.

“Revaramek, look!” Mirelle leaned forward again.

“I am looking, Mirelle.” Revaramek sighed, flattening his spines. “We just had this conversation!”

“At the horizon, you resplendent idiot!”

Revaramek turned his attention to the distance, following where Nyra was pointing. Far across the desert sands, a hint of gray smudged the horizon. The dragon stared at it for a few moments, watching the way it rose, spread, and drifted. More gray rose beneath it, and Revaramek soon realized it was smoke. Though it was still distance, it seemed to rise from a fixed point, replenishing itself moment by moment.

“What is that?” Mirelle leaned forward against his neck.

“Smoke, Mirelle.”

Mirelle slapped his neck. “I meant what’s burning?”

“I don’t know, but I rather doubt the sand’s caught on fire.”

“If there had been a storm or something, it could have been lightning that struck one of those slender trees.”

“I haven’t seen a cloud all day. Besides, I don’t think it’s that big. There’s something on the horizon, though.” He pumped his wings, ascending. “I’m going to fly higher, see if I can get a better look. Mirelle, tell me if the air grows too cold or too thin!”

“Right!”

After translating for Nyra, Revaramek beat his wings in steady, powerful strokes. He rose at a sharp angle, and while the ascent pressed Mirelle against him, she did not complain. When he was high enough for the air’s chill to start biting at his wings, he had a better view of the source of the smoke. Sunlight glittered off water in the distance. Trees and reeds crowded the banks of an oasis larger than any they had seen thus far. Rounded structures surrounded the oasis. The distance was too great to tell what they were composed off, but their gray-brown color suggested bricks of clay, or mud. The orange glint of fire flickered near the water’s banks. Small figured moved amidst the structures, and around the fire. Revaramek’s blood ran cold. The dragon’s stomach sucked up against his spine. That wasn’t supposed to be here. Theyweren’t supposed to be here.

“What is it?” Mirelle called out over the winds rushing past them. “Your eyesight is better than mine, I think. What are those big lumps?”

“They’re…” Revaramek’s mouth suddenly felt as if he’d gulped down a mouthful of desert sand. “Houses, I think.”

“What?” Mirelle eased up to to peer past his neck. “Are you certain?”

“I see people, Mirelle.” Revaramek fixed his gaze on them, watching them move and interact. “It’s a village. It’s…it’s a village, on the oasis.”

Mirelle sank back against him. “What kind of village?” The sudden weight in her voice told him she already knew the answer.

“Urd’thin.” Revaramek dipped his wing, wheeling back towards his mate. They had to reassess their plan. “Asterbury’s leading us to a village of desert urd’thin.”

*****

Revaramek swept in low over the desert. His wingbeats stirred clouds of sand that billowed out behind him, and formed tiny golden vortices beyond his wingtips. Only when near their temporary destination did he extended his hind legs for landing. He touched down on the sands, only to find them shifting beneath his paws. He stumbled, dropped his fore legs down, and scarcely managed to avoid losing his footing as he trotted to a stop. Even then, the sun-beaten sands were uncomfortably hot against his paw pads, and he hurried into the sparse shade provided by a trio of gangly trees around an oasis little larger than he was.

“Nyra, be wary!” He called back to his mate, making room in the shady area. “The sands are treacherous and hot!”

Nyra cut through the cloud of sand left in Revaramek’s wake, and landed with a little more grace than he did. At least until she started yelping and dancing across the sand, flailing her paws about as if to ease the burning sting across her pads. “It’s hot! It’s hot!”

“I did warn you!” Revaramek settled onto his belly to let Mirelle down. “Get to the shade, it’s cooler here.”

“Relatively speaking.” Mirelle unbuckled her straps and slipped off the dragon. Then she worked to unbuckle the rest of the harness and pull it free. “I’ll take this off you, till we figure out what to do next. I’ll get your cargo off in a minute.”

“Thank you, Mirelle.” Revaramek pushed his muzzle against her face and licked her cheek.

“Ech, cut it out, Rev!” Mirelle shoved his muzzle aside.

“Hot, hot, hot!” Nyra practically squealed as she darted through the shady area and straight into the water to bathe her paws. She took a breath, and gave a deep sigh, standing in the middle of the tiny oasis. “Aaaaaah, much better.”

Mirelle watched her a moment, then nudged Revaramek. “You know, I was going to drink that water.”

“It’s not like she’s peeing in it, Mirelle.”

“And she’d better not, either!” Mirelle moved around Revaramek, unbuckling cargo pouches and water skins from around his body and limbs. “We should consider using this water to replenish our supplies.” She glanced over at the female green dragon, sniffing at the water she stood in. “It’s safe, right? To drink?”

“I hope so.” Revaramek flexed his wings in an uncertain shrug. “I wouldn’t think it has anything in it that’s any worse than the marsh water. Let me ask Nyra.” He switched into the swamp dragon’s tongue. “Does it smell stagnant? Or befouled?”

“No!” Nyra glanced back at him. “It smells nice, actually. A bit like the water from the creek near where we camped. Sort of…clean, but minerally.”

“Probably a spring, then.” Revaramek licked his nose, lifting a foreleg for Mirelle to remove the last cargo pouch. “Still, we should proceed with caution before we just start drinking-”

Nyra dropped her muzzle down, eagerly lapping up the water.

“Nyra!” Rev hissed, flaring his frills.

“What?” Nyra gave him a blank look, water dripping from her chin. “I’m thirsty!”

Revaramek shook his limb once it was freed. “Nevermind, love. I’m sure it’s fine.” He gave Mirelle a smirk, returning to language she could understand. “After all, I’m sure it’s Mirelle here who’s going to end up sick from the water, not us.”

Mirelle shot him a glare. “You’re going to feel sick when I put my boot in your-”

“Can’t hear you Mirelle, inspecting the water for your safety!”

Revaramek padded to the water’s edge. He nipped at his mate’s tail so she’d know he was there, then sniffed at the shoreline. The earth had an unfamiliar scent, different than the marsh, a little more acrid and not as rich. The sand melted away into mud alongside the water, and a few sparse reeds dotted the tiny pond’s bank. When Revaramek sloshed in alongside Nyra, a few little fish darted away from him, hiding amidst the stalked of submerged reeds. The fact it had fish meant it didn’t dry up. At least he assumed it didn’t. He had heard tales of fish who buried themselves in the mud, to await the next rainfall.

The dragon lapped up a few mouthfuls of water. Like its scent, it’s taste was sharper than usual, as if he could taste all the minerals deep within the earth that the water filtered through on its way to the surface. It was not unpleasant, though it would take some getting used too. He took a longer, deeper drink, helping to quell the parched dryness of his throat. When he’d drank his fill, the dragon lifted his head and gazed back into the shade.

“I think it’s plenty safe, Mirelle. Could start a fire and boil it, but your body’s already used to you drinking water from the marsh, as it is.” He nudged Nyramyn, then whispered to her in her own tongue. “Let’s not stand around in it too long, Mirelle will complain we’re fouling her drinking water.”

Nyramyn huffed and tossed her head. “It’s not as if we’re peeing in it!”

“That’s what I told her!” Revaramek licked his mate, grinning. “But you know Mirelle, she’s a sensitive daisy.”

“Stupid damn sand!” Mirelle wriggled around on the bank, adjusting her breeches. “How’d you even get in there? This desert can kiss my damn ass!”

“An angry daisy, anyway.” Revaramek turned around and waded ashore. “Mirelle, we’ve been here only minutes, how do already you have sand in your…everywhere?”

“Hell if I know.” Mirelle rubbed her forehead. “I think this desert just hates me. Are stopping here for the night?”

“It might be for the best. We’ve shade, and water, and we need to decide how to approach that village.” Revaramek cocked his head. ‘I don’t suppose you speak desert urd’thin?”

Mirelle dropped her hand, glaring at him. “How the hell would I even knowdesert urd’thin?”

“I’m only asking!”

“You’re the one with the magic powers. If anyone speaks it, it should be you.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works!” Revaramek scratched his neck with his wing tip as Nyramyn followed him upon to the sand. “You speak…regular urd’thin, right?”

Mirelle fidgeted with her blouse. “How does it get…ugh!” She glanced up at the dragon. “I speak some urd’thin, yes. I don’t know if it’s the same language that the desert people speak, though. Especially if they’re…” She scowled, waving his hand. “Magic urd’thin. Like him.”

“Please, Mirelle.” Revaramek cocked his head. “They’re not magic urd’thin. This isn’t a fairy tale.” He flicked his tail against the sand, smiling. “They prefer to be called shapers! Or…so I assume. It’s also possible they’re just…normal urd’thin, living in the desert.”

Mirelle leaned up against the coarse bark of one of the trees, wriggling against it to scratch her back. “Revaramek, why would he lead us into the desert to meet normal urd’thin?”

“Why does he do anything he does?” He settled onto his haunches, curling his tail.

Nyramyn lifted a paw, staring at it. Golden grains clung to her damp scales. “ACK! It’s sticking to me!” She shook her paw furiously, then glanced at the others. “AH! It’s everywhere!” She hopped about, dancing around on the sand, trying to clear it off her paws but only getting more of it stuck to her. “I’m going back in the water. It’s safer there.”

Revaramek let her wade back into the spring, for now. “I don’t think she’s enjoying the sand any more than you are.”

“You were the one who was all exited about visiting the desert! Didn’t you want to go rolling down some sand dunes?”

“I did, yes.” Revaramek snorted, gazing out across the sunbaked desert. The air shimmered beyond the shade. “Till I saw that village.”

“That’s alright.” Mirelle leaned her head back, staring up into the fronds of the tree. “You’d probably end up breaking your wings, anyway.” A smile drifted across her face. “What was it you said you were afraid would happen, when we first read that book, all those years ago?”

“Oh!” Laughter bubbled from the dragon when the memory drifted through his mind. “I was going to get sand in my sheath!”

Mirelle’s face reddened a little, but she shared his laughter. “That’s the one. Gods…seems like ages ago, doesn’t it?”

“It was, Mirelle.” Revaramek traced little sigils in the sand with his claw tips. “We scarcely knew each other, back then.”

“Yeah…” Mirelle rubbed her arm. “Let alone what we’d gotten ourselves into.”

“Remember when we thought Asterbury was just some bandit?”

“Mhm.” Mirelle closed her eyes, chuckling. “If only. I thought we’d have him dealt with, and have you send back to the marsh in a matter of days, at best.”

Revaramek rumbled, and his claws stilled against the sand. “You couldn’t wait to be rid of me.”

“No.” Mirelle’s tone softened, a hint of pain crawling into her voice. “I couldn’t. Didn’t know you at all. Thought you were…the most arrogant, egotistical, foul creature I could imagine…”

“To be fair.” Revaramek forced a smile upon his face. “I am.”

“Hardly, Rev.” Mirelle sighed, and swallowed hard. “And then you…you saved my life, and you almost killed yourself doing it. I didn’t…realize it, yet, that your heart was full of heroism, and hope, and…and loneliness.” Mirelle sniffed, and wiped her eyes, then smiled at him. Her voice was hoarse, now. “I know I don’t say things like this near often enough but…I’m ever so glad to have met you, Revaramek the Resplendent. And while I won’t admit this often…I’m eternally grateful for the night you looked past the foul-tempered person I’d shown myself to be, and the angry, ungrateful way I’d treated you, and asked for my friendship.”

Revaramek had to swallow back a growing lump in his throat. He shook his head, spines hanging a little limp. “Nonsense, Mirelle. You hadn’t done or said anything I didn’t deserve.”

“I’d argue that point with you, but it would defeat the purpose.” Mirelle sighed, and shifted against the tree to gaze at Nyra, while the female dragon worked to scrub the sand from her scales. “She…does realize as soon as she wades ashore, it’s going to cling to her again, right?”

“I’m not sure, yet.”

“Not that a bath doesn’t sound nice, right now.” Mirelle wrung her hands, chuckling. “It seems strange to think that…you saving my life, and asking for my friendship…that it led you to her.”

“So it did.” Revaramek smiled, watching his mate splash about in the water. “But you asked me to be a hero, Mirelle. That was what started all this.”

“That wasn’t quite how I put it, I don’t think.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Revaramek dipped his head, staring at the sand. He could almost hear his mother’s voice and his reply, echoing through his head. Promise me. So I know you’ll be alright. I promise, Momma. I’ll be a hero. I’ll make you proud. “But that was what I heard, when you came to me that day in the marsh. In my head, you were asking for your benevolent overlord’s protection. At long last, you were asking me to be a hero.”

“And a hero you were.” Mirelle slipped away from the tree, and wrapped her arms around the dragon’s neck. She hugged him tight, leaning her forehead against his scales. “And just look at you now, a hero still. Risking yourself out here in the desert, for your mate, for your family.”

Well look at you, Hero.

The sneer of Asterbury’s voice echoed in his head. Revaramek pushed the memory aside, but could not shake the feeling that there was more to this than just Nyra’s health. “He used to call me that.” Revaramek hugged Mirelle with a foreleg, his voice gentle. “Asterbury, I mean. Almost like an insult.”

Mirelle patted his chest plates, then eased back. She wiped her eyes again. “Guess the little shit didn’t realize how truthful it was.”

“I suppose not.” Revaramek flattened his ears, shifting his weight to curl his tail around his paws. “Or maybe he did, and it was me who never quite understood what was really happening. He was always so far ahead of us, and yet…I can’t help but believe we’re here for a reason. That somehow, for a purpose I do not know, he has led us into this desert.” He hung his head, digging his claws into the sand. The dragon’s belly knotted up. “Seeing that village makes me nervous, Mirelle. It makes me fear we’re…back in his game, and we don’t even realize it.”

Mirelle put her hand on the dragon’s shoulder. “Yet, for all his plans, you still beat him.”

“Yeah.” Revaramek rumbled, puffing out his chest plates in pride. “I did. And I still believe that…he’s leading us to something that will save Nyra. I just…”

“You wonder if there’s going to be a cost.” Mirelle put her head against the dragon again, stroking his foreleg. “I know, Rev, I know. But it’ll be okay. I promise you, whatever happens…it’ll be okay.”

Revaramek hugged her again, thankful for her comfort, even if he didn’t completely believe it. “Thank you, Mirelle. You know, sometimes I wonder if it was Vakaal who helped me trick him, too. After all, it was Vakaal who saved my life. Maybe it’s him who is leading us out here…”

“I still don’t understand that whole…” Mirelle waved her hand as she returned to the tree, and leaned up against it again. “Situation.”

“Neither do I, exactly. It’s a bit like…the two halves of his personality, were at war with each other. One always hiding things from the other.” Revaramek drummed his claw tips against the sand, making little depressions. “Truths he shouldn’t know, things he wasn’t allowed to remember, connections he wasn’t allowed to make. Vakaal said something about…the va’chaak.”

“They sure as hell looked up to him, at any rate.” Mirelle peered up into the tree tops again. “Enora used to talk about a plague he saved them from.”

“Did he?”

Mirelle shrugged. “How should I know? I assume he must have. Look.” She pointed up towards a cluster of bright red fruits with odd spindly structures extending from central bodies. “There’s fruit up there.”

“Hand-fruit, I think. It was Vakaal’s favorite.” Revaramek splayed his ears, gazing around. He half expected some urd’thin to spring, fully formed, out of the sand as if on cue. When it didn’t happen, he rose to his feet. “Should we try it?”

As soon as Mirelle moved aside, Revaramek reared onto his hind legs, and braced a forepaw against the tree. It creaked and leaned over under his weight. The dragon stretched his neck and grasped the fruit in his teeth as he gently as he could. He plucked it free, and then eased back from the tree, holding the fruit out to Mirelle.

Mirelle returned to her spot leaning against the tree, and pulled a knife from her belt. She peeled away the rind, and separated the fruit beneath into three equal sections. She handed one to Revaramek, and then walked to the waters edge to offer another to Nyramyn. Revaramek sniffed the fruit, but did not yet eat it. It smelled sweet, with a hint of tartness lurking, and left the dragon salivating.

When everyone had their fruit, Revaramek gazed at his piece a moment before consuming it. Then he held it up towards the sky in a paw. “To Vakaal, wherever he may be. Thank you for saving me, and for helping me, I hope, cage the monster. Here’s to you, Vakaal.”

Revaramek popped it into his muzzle, and immediately gave a deep, satisfied groan. The fruit’s flavor was unlike anything from the marsh, distinct and delicious. It was surprisingly juicy, with just enough of a tart edge to keep it from being overpoweringly sweet. Across from him, Mirelle had a similar reaction. She licked the juice from her fingers. In the water, Nyramyn danced about in delight.

“Oooh, that’s good!” She sloshed up onto the shore, no longer caring about the sand that clung to her. “Is there more?”

“Yeah…there is.” Revaramek plucked a few more pieces of fruit, enough for each of them to have one. There was a bit remaining, but he left it be. “We’ll leave the rest.”

“For tomorrow?”

“No.” Revaramek shook his head, smiling. “For Vakaal, and whoever he leads here next.”

*****

Chapter One Hundred Thirteen

*****

An army of urd’thin marched across the dunes at dawn. The just-rising sun painted the sands the color of scorched blood. Music and song accompanied their march, the same song the stars themselves once taught The First Chief. He had given it to his people, and let them twist it. Now, played with their drums and wooden flutes and reed pipes, it was an anthem of war, of freedom waiting to be secured. The sounds lifted his spirits, even as dread coiled cold and trembling in his belly.

For the first time, The First was afraid to die.

Though death was only of the flesh, and not of the consciousness, not of the understanding, it frightened him nonetheless. Before, he was always able to return to his vessel, to patch it up and move on. This time, he could not do that. He would leave it there, to be taken by his tribe, burned and scattered to the winds. His time living in his people’s story was at an end. They would mourn him, and from then on, his people would know death. Yet as terrifying as the thought was, he also knew it was their final step.

At last, his people would truly be complete.

The First crested the final sandhill just ahead of his army. In the distance, the invaders camp rose from the sand, a labyrinthine place of stones not from this world. Buildings and walls, tents and towers. They were still constructing it, and they had brought far more people than last time. In addition, dozens of dragons lounged about in the sand or splashed about in the waters of an artificial oasis. The invaders had shaped a hole in the earth, and filled it with water retrieved by pumps tapped into the groundwater.

Mica reached the top of the dune, and stood alongside him. She sucked in a breath, and let out a long, nervous whine. “There’s…so many of them…And they have monsters!”

“There are far more of you.” The First took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “The dragons-”

“Is that what you call those scaled beasts?”

The First nodded. “They are not here willingly. These people, they invade other’s stories, conquer the inhabitants, use them to help conquer stories. But they will not have your story, Mica.”

Mica turned her head, her ears up, and smiled at him. “No. They won’t.”

“The dragons are slaves, likely as are any other creatures fighting with them. If you can spare them, do so. If you cannot, then slay them. The same holds true for any of their slaves.”

“What if there are urd’thin with them?”

“I will leave that up to you.”

“And…if we can spare those…scaled beasts?”

The First settled an image into Mica’s mind. She gave a little groan, eyes losing focus. The image he showed her was a sphere, their world. It turned, and far beyond the desert, across the mountains, was an ancient, primal swamp, the only place where life had survived the world’s ruin. He saw it, long ago, and now he showed it to Mica.

“Offer them the chance to help you. Or send them to that marsh. And then build your desert.”

All across the vast dune, more and more urd’thin were reaching the top. Soon, an entire wall of them stretched across the sand, staring down at men and beast. Nervousness and fear rippled through them. None had ever seen such creatures before. None were certainly they were strong enough to fight monsters like that, or humans with shaping that rivaled their own. Hesitation rolled across them, a few wondered if they should just turn back now.

Down below, as they were spotted, alarm bells rang out. Deep, brassy tolls echoed across the desert valley below dunes. Men called orders, and scrambled for their weapons. Dragons jumped to their feet and clambered out of the oasis. Some of the humans climbed atop the dragons. The First only watched as they formed themselves into squadrons, pouring out of the village in organized ranks. They were well trained and well disciplined, and ready for battle. His army, by comparison, was disorganized, and untested. Under normal circumstances, they might well have been annihilated.

But these were his urd’thin, and they would not be collared, or stepped on.

“Watch the way they do things.” He whispered to Mica, so that only she could hear. “Observe their ranks, their formations, their tactics. Remember them, and learn from them. When this is done, teach your people. For now, exploit them here, and here.” He pointed out a few places where their formations were stretched thin, where the urd’thin could flank and overwhelm them. “Use your shaping. All of it. Make sure everyone knows that these humans have a kind of shaping, too. So, do not hold back. Everything they once wondered if they can do, they do it now. Tell them the gods will grant no punishment for shaping used in self-defense, no matter how powerful. The same goes for your healing. Everything you have.”

Mica swallowed, nodding. “I understand. They’re…” Mica leaned forward, gazing along their lines. “They’re afraid, I think.”

“I know. I expected them to be. So, I’ll show them bravery, and go myself. When I fall, you rally them, you make sure my death inspires them. After this, they will only know bravery.” He took a deep breath. “Are you ready?”

“Not at all.” Mica flashed him a nervous smile. “Are you?”

The First shook his head. “Not in the least. I am…going to miss you, Mica.”

Mica flattened her ears back, glancing away. She blinked back tears. “I’ll miss you, too.” She turned her eyes back to him, whimpering. “But you’ll be watching, right? Watching over us?”

“Always, Mica. But after this, I…I have to let things happen, good or bad. Your…your story only becomes real when I let things happen. So…please. When the bad things happen, and they will. When the whole tribe grieves. Please, don’t think I’ve forgotten you. Don’t think I don’t love you, that I don’t grieve with you. Just…understand that…that I have too…”

“I understand.” Mica released his hand to cup his muzzle and give his nose a kiss. “Will you visit? In my dreams?”

“Perhaps…when the time is right. One way or another…you’ll see me again, someday.”

“Alright…” Her voice trembled, and her fingers shook against him. Her hands slowly dropped away from his face. “I…I don’t know…what else to say…”

The First cupped her cheek in his hand, and leaned in to return the gentle kiss. “Thank you for making this story beautiful.” He pulled back, and offered her one last smile. “Goodbye, Mica.”

Mica wiped her eyes, choking back a sob. “Goodbye…”

It took all his resolve to turn away from Mica, and trudge down the other side of the dune. His throat tightened and burned, and tears stilled down his fur. His heart ached, as every man who came here to invade his beautiful world all had a grip on it, squeezing the life from him. His lungs refused to work, each breath was a pained chore. He wasn’t even dead yet, and already he was grieving for the friends he had to leave behind. The anguish of coming loss was almost too much to bear, and for a moment, he wondered how mortals could ever deal with such pain. If he were truly mortal, he was not sure he could ever bring himself to let go of those he loved, of his people.

By the time he neared the men who dared call themselves the Storytellers, all his pain was fading, and in its place came only anger. A unquenchable fire burned in his heart, transmuting all his anguish to fury. This was theirfault. They were the reason he had to leave his people. They were the reason he had to die. Every step brought him more anger, called forth more of his power. The more the rage took hold, the less control he felt he had. It was all he could do to resist the urge to simply wipe them all out at once, and return to his people.

But then they’d know, and once they knew, this…beautiful story…would never work.

Ahead of him, the formations of enemy troops and mounted shapers changed. One man, in a golden robe, astride a green and black dragon, came forward. The air rippled all around man and dragon alike as the human gathered his shaping. By their standards, he was powerful. Powerful enough to pose a threat to his urd’thin. The man brought his dragon to a stop, watching as the lone urd’thin approached.

“Have you come to negotiate?” The man spoke good urd’thin. Not desert urd’thin, but the common variety, probably had urd’thin slaves, somewhere. He also sounded a little nervous. The First could see it in his eyes, in his mind. They had come here, looking to capture shapers, in hopes something else…greater. And they also came prepared for whatever protector these people had. The one who brought the storm. But they hadn’t expected a genuine army to show up at their door, let alone one even their shaping had not seen coming. “Or do you expect us to surrender?”

“This is all your fault.” The First let his voice echo across all of them, rolling thunder, a portent of the coming storm. “You ruined your world, you fled its burning wreckage, and now what? You seek to…spread your ruination elsewhere?” With every word, his voice grew hotter, his anger stronger. Blue lightning flickered from his teeth, and the sand melted, and became as glass under his feet. “The urd’thin…are not your slaves. This…story…is not yours, and it will never accept you. What is it you hope to achieve here, what do you hope to find?”

Other human shapers on dragons were moving in to positions to flank him. The First did not care. Let them surround him. Let his people see him face down their threats, their overwhelming odds, let them see him face his own death with courage. Let them know inspiration. All the humans around him summoned their shaping, calling up all manner of complicated and intricate shields and wards. He ignored them, peeking into their minds. Even before they answered, he knew what they wanted.

The First only laughed. “Healed? You want your world healed? Look around you!” He waved a hand, and blue sparked trailed in its wake, scorching the air itself. “I’ve already healed it! But not for you. For us. For urd’thin.”

His words brought confusion, and murmuring. Some of the humans glanced around. The leader leaned forward, peering down at The First from atop his dragon. “What are you trying to say, guardian?”

“Guardian?” The First only smiled. He saw the meaning of the word in the man’s head. Some worlds, they thought had guardians. Creatures of stronger powers, there to protect its stories. He liked that idea. Maybe that was what he would make Mica. “Is that all you think I am? You look upon my vessel, and you think me some mortal? You came here, looking for one who could heal your world, and I could do it with a thought. But the cost of your mistakes are yours alone to bear. This place, this story I’ve built, and the fact I must leave it behind? That is my atonement for giving you your power.”

“Wh-what?” Their leader leaned back on his dragon, his jaw agape.

“Now you start to understand, who I am. Even if you don’t realize where you are.” The First tilted his head, gazing around. “What I don’t quite understand is where you’refrom…” He touched the man’s mind with his understanding, tried to untangle the whirling knot of confusion there. They were…from this place, but…not this place. “Your…gates. They’re not just piercing world veils, they’re…so there are other existences?” He wondered, briefly, if he had made those, or if it was something greater. “For every great choice…a new story. Live, or die, the story goes on…but it’s different, for everyone else. Something greater, then.” He smiled at their leader. “Thank you. I shall perhaps look upon this when I am but light and understanding again.”

Just as their leader was ready to speak again, The First turned in a circle, calling out to everyone. This time, he let his voice echo back to his people. This was for them. “I offer terms! They are simple, and binding! Leave, or die!” He pushed his power through the village, peeling apart their buildings, casting their foreign stones out into the desert, exposing the way to the gateway they had built to take their captives home. It was a strange thing, of silver and black rings inside a great stone arch. He pointed at it, his voice flat. “Leave. Or die.”

The First already knew the answer, but he felt it was important to give them the choice, anyway. As soon as he felt the leader gather his shaping, The First reacted. Time for him was meaningless, if he wished it to be. So while the leader’s powers may have been unleashed in an instant, it may as well have been an eternity. Before the golden-robed man’s thoughts had even finished giving his powers shape, The First cast him screaming into the sky. He unraveled into ribbons of blood that fell as crimson rain across the others. His shredded golden robe was caught in the wind, fluttering away. At the same time, The First hurled the green and black dragon across the world, wreathed in shaping so it would survive, and dropped it into the marsh.

It all happened so fast that those nearest him were stunned into inaction. Some of their dragons stumbled back, both man and beast crying out in fear. The First threw his hand towards another of them, and blasted him into nothing more than a cloud of sand, drifting across the desert. The next, he shaped spears from the earth, and drove them through the human a dozen times before he’d even felt the pain of the first. He slumped off his beast, and the dragon took to its wings, not to fight but to flee. Some distance away, it grasped at the collar around its neck and flopped back to the desert, writhing.

The First perceived a change in the air around him, like a great fist made of invisible power. He could have batted it aside, he could have absorbed it, he could have simply erased it along with the one who cast it at him. But he had no come here to win. He had come here to die, and will his peopleto win. This was not about him. This was about every urd’thin who called this place home. Now, and forever, they had to understand this place was theirs to call home, and theirs to defend.

So he let the power strike him.

Force struck him hard enough to lift him off his feet and send him tumbling across the sand. Pain erupted through him. Something inside his body broke. In the distance, atop the dune, he sensed fear and anger from his people, and pain from Mica. She alone knew what was happening. He focused on the agony radiating from within in. It hurt more than any pain he had experienced since Mica put the spear through him.

The First pushed himself back to his feet, found the one who had battered him with his shaping. The man was gathering more, while yelling to his comrades. “He’s no god! However strong he is, he can die! Fight back, fight back!”

The human was wrong, but the first needed him to be right. That did not stop him from exacting revenge. The more of them he took out before he died, the safer it would be for his beloved tribe to claim victory. Before that human could strike again, The First cast indigo lightning across the sands, and blasted him into charred fragments.

Another human struck with shaping from the side, and sent him tumbling across the force. The force of the blow broke one of his arms in two places, and tore something within his body. The pain wrenched a scream from him, and tasted blood. He forced himself not to let his wounds heal. The human’s shaping was different, more simplistic in a way, as though they lacked the imagination to do more with it. It was as if his people could wield a thousand different tools, while all the humans had was an army of hammers. Nonetheless, he hoped Mica and her people were paying attention, so they’d know what they were up against.

Two of the humans on dragon-back charged at him, while another circled above in the sky, looking for an opening. Yet even as his wounds exacted a growing toll, he rose once more, coughing blood. When the nearest dragon spat a gout of roiling, red-orange flame, The First bent the world beneath him, and sprang into the air. He kicked the dragon’s ride off it’s back, shattering the human’s back. Then he bound onto the second dragon. With his unbroken arm, he snatched its rider by the throat, and hurled the invader up into the sky, aimed squarely at the head of beast circling above.

Everything he did was designed to show his people what they could accomplish. He knew, under Mica’s leadership, she would never let them overuse their powers. But in times of crisis, they should do whatever it took to survive.

The dragon beneath him beat its wings and leapt into the sky, trying to throw him off. The First dropped onto the sands before the dragon could fly too high, and threw his good arm out towards another dragon trying to flank him. Enough concussive force struck the scaled beast to send it careening across the desert, bones breaking and scales flying off its battered form. At the same time, the dragon in the sky swooped down and blasted fire across the earth. The First darted out of the flame’s path in time to escape the worst of it, but his tail ignited, bushy fur burning down to the flesh. He screamed again, stumbling away, and in pained fury, cast flame back across the dragon. The beast crashed into the ground in a squealing, burning heap.

More human shapers on dragon back surrounded him, trying to box him in, calling up their powers. Beyond them, a legion more humans without dragons were joining the fray, some armored with weaponry and armor of steel and strange crystal, others armed only with their shaping. As he once more thrust his hand at them, cords of the human’s power bound around him, like crackling fire, burning into his flesh, binding him. Breaking the binds would be no more difficult than healing his wounds, and yet, as with his healing, he forced himself to resist the urge.

That single moment’s hesitation was all it took for the nearest dragon to lash out and sink its teeth into The First’s arm. The dragon bit through flesh and into bone. Bone cracked and splintered, and The First shrieked. The pain left his vision flashing red. The shaper who bound him pulled one way, and the dragon pulled the earth, and the urd’thins arm was torn away from his body. Blood splattered the sand.

In the distance, Mica screamed, and ordered her people forward. They were early, but didn’t matter now. Urd’thin warriors and shapers poured across the dunes by the hundreds, howling their anguished fury. In the name of their brave first chief, they surged across the desert. The First decided he would linger here long enough to see them over run this place.

The dragon who had bitten off his arm spat it out, and came forward to finish him off, ordered on by the human upon its back. As the dragon’s jaws came for his head, The First only smiled at it. The black collar around the dragon’s neck fell off of it, and the dragon stumbled to a halt, staring at the dying urd’thin. All around him, collars fell from the other dragons who had closed in, as well.

For them, for the lucky few who were nearest him in his last moments, The First had only a simple message, spoken in their native tongue, from their beloved homeworld. “Help my people, and know freedom.”

It took the dragons no longer to make their decisions than it had taken him to remove their collars. In a breath, they fell upon one another, tearing the riders from each other’s backs. The shapers were maimed and screaming, or dead and silent before they even what had happened. The First just wished he could free them all. But most of the other dragons still alive were already in new formation, charging to meet his people. And this was a battle they had to finish for themselves.

The First collapsed to the ground, blood inundating the sand around him. His head swam, and his vision first wavered, then grew darker at the edges. Thoughts were harder to focus upon. The sky above him was beautiful, clear and blue, as if all the world were incased in great sapphire sphere. The screams and shouts in the distance grew softer with each fading heartbeat.

When the worst of his pain ebbed away, he rolled to his side, staring across what was left of the human shapers’ camp. Blasts of power echoed across the desert. Sand became stone, smashed against invaders. Bolts of electricity crackled, searing air and flesh alike. Men and dragon screamed in pain, and soon, in fear. They were losing.

The First smiled. His story was ending, but his people’s story had only just begun.

As his vision dimmed, and his hearing gave out, he saw urd’thin everywhere, battered and bloodied, but victorious. They tore down the structures that remained, ripped apart the gateway the humans built. Soon, another bloodied urd’thin was on her knees, at his side. She threw herself against him, crying into his blood-soaked fur.

It was Mica. He hadn’t wanted her to see him like this, beaten, torn apart, bleeding out. But he hadn’t thought about this moment, either, only the end result. As she cried, she managed to sob a few words, but he couldn’t make them out. His hearing faded to a dull drone, and then nothing.

Everything was silent.

For a moment, he was afraid she was going to try and save him, but doubted even she could heal him quickly enough, now. The First wanted wished to her tell her was sorry she had to see him this way, sorry she had to see him suffer. But when he tried to speak, the only thing that came out of his mouth was blood. He gagged on it, then tilted his head back, and tried to smile at her. As his vision faded, her face was the last thing he saw. He focused on it until there nothing more to see.

Everything was dark.

His heart stopped.

His consciousness began to pull away, but he clung to his vessel as long as he could, felt her touch as long as he could. When that, too, faded, he focused his mind, and sent the very last of his mortal thoughts into her head.

Live well, Mica.

Good bye.