Path of Dragons 17 - Chapter 40 - Responsibility (Patreon)

The child screamed.

Elijah smiled.

“I think it’s universal,” he said, glancing at Carmen as Ok’tarik once again threw Callux into the air. 

“Seems that way,” she acknowledged, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth.  “Miggy used to love being tossed around.  I remember our first vacation.  Alyssa wanted to go to down to Florida for some ridiculous reason.”

“She always was fond of Disney.”

“You remember that Mulan shirt she used to wear?” Carmen asked.

“Remember it?  I bought it for her.  With my mom’s money, but I went up to the register and everything.  It was a birthday gift,” Elijah revealed.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” she asked.  “Every time she wore it, she would go on and on about how it was proof that deep down, you were a good and thoughtful brother.  I was never really convinced.”

“Ouch.”

“You ran away to Hawaii and barely even called her.”

“I didn’t run away.  I went to college.”

“You ran away,” Carmen insisted.  Then, she sighed.  “That was Alyssa, though.  She always ignored the worst parts of people.”

“Or she saw the best,” Elijah countered.

“However you want to put it,” Carmen conceded.  Thankfully, she didn’t point out that that tendency was what got her killed.  According to everything Elijah had discovered about his sister’s death, its inevitability was obvious to anyone with eyes.  Carmen had warned her.  So had others.  But back then, she still saw Roman as the man he’d once been. 

A friend.

A mentor, even. 

Idly, Elijah wondered if that assessment had ever been accurate.  Maybe he’d always been a bad guy, and it just took the apocalypse to expose the rot that was always lurking beneath the surface.  After Alyssa’s death, the curse that came with the False Dragon Fang just made everything worse.

“By the time the world ended, that shirt was full of holes,” Carmen went on wistfully.  “She only wore it to bed.  Still cute on her, though.”

Elijah didn’t respond.  Instead, he experienced a brief pang of regret.  If he’d stayed on the mainland, maybe he would have had a better relationship with his sister.  Perhaps he would have known the woman she became, rather than just depending on the memories from their shared childhood.

“Be there,” Miguel had advised him, and though he’d been talking about Callux at the time, the advice resonated with Elijah’s past as well.  If he’d just been there for Alyssa, maybe things would have turned out differently.

“Are you okay?”

Elijah shrugged.  “I don’t know.  Just a bout of melancholy.”

“Yeah.”

Carmen didn’t need to say anything else, because they both understood it better than most.  Everyone who had survived Earth’s transformation had lost people.  Their whole lives had been upended and replaced by something new, confusing, and terrifying. 

That was the thing that later generations would never understand.  They could listen to all the stories, but in the end, they didn’t experience it.  So, they would never know the impact it had on everyone who did.

“Do you think their descendants will one day look back on this the way we remember Earth before the World Tree?” Elijah asked, nodding toward Ok’tarik and the child. 

Carmen shrugged. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“A couple of things,” she answered.  “Are they going to survive long enough to create a legacy worth remembering? And if they do, will the rest of the orcs have advanced enough to appreciate it?  I don’t know.  No guarantees one way or the other.”

Elijah couldn’t disagree with that. 

It had been three weeks since Callux’s birth, and though he was still much larger than any child of that age had a right to be, his growth hadn’t proceeded at the pace Elijah had expected.  Instead, he’d grown a few inches, put on a couple of pounds, and then stalled.  He was much more coordinated now – like a four or five year old human, if Elijah had to pinpoint the level of development – but it was clear that it would be a long time before he started fighting battles.

On the other side of that coin, the child’s cultivation system had developed much more rapidly, and to the point where it had become solidified.  He didn’t have access to the system – at least as far as Elijah could tell – but if he did, it would confirm that he had reached the first stage.

Cultivator, and at less than a month old.

It was unprecedented. 

Probably. 

Elijah had no idea how quickly dragons developed in the wild, so for all he knew, it was normal.  What was not normal was his core, which felt like an amalgam of disparate powers that represented his attunement as well as his heritage.  Elijah recognized the dragon as well as nature.  But there was something even wilder in there that he couldn’t quite identify, save that it probably originated with his father.

And finally, there was what could only be the sliver of the World Tree, nestled in between all three, like a splinter that was somehow beneficial.

Everything fed off of that.  And in turn, the others funneled energy in the opposite direction.  They existed in symbiosis, and in a way that Elijah couldn’t quite explain.  Certainly, he didn’t understand it.  Not completely.

What he did understand was that for all that he appeared to be a blend of dragon and orc, Callux was neither.  In fact, he was something entirely new that resisted categorization. 

What would he become?  How strong could he be?   Would he be the missing link that allowed orcs to escape the prison imposed upon them by the system?  There were so many questions, and Elijah lacked the means to answer a single one. 

“I think it’s time.”

“Then that’s my cue to leave,” Carmen said, pushing away from the rail.  “Good luck.”

“You’re just going to abandon me?” Elijah asked, but she was already walking away.

“Got work to do.  Gears to grind.  You know, Blacksmith stuff.”

“Traitor,” Elijah muttered to himself, but he didn’t really mean it.  If he could avoid the coming confrontation, he would have as well.  But it was his responsibility, so he had no choice but to embrace it.  Still, it took Elijah a couple of moments to compose himself properly before he stepped forward.

He crossed the deck far more quickly than he expected.  Then, he just said, “It’s time, Ok’tarik.”

“I know,” replied the orc.

Predictably, the child screamed in enjoyment as he flew higher into the air.  A second later, Ok’tarik caught him, then set him on the deck.  The child reached up, begging for another toss, but his father nudged him along.  His shoulders drooped, but he turned and scampered away.  It wasn’t long before something else caught his attention, and his exuberance returned.

“Where will you take him?” Ok’tarik asked. 

“You’re not going to argue that he needs to stay?”

The orc shook his head. “That was not the plan.”

“I understand that, but sometimes, plans change,” Elijah acknowledged.

Ok’tarik looked away, his gaze trained on the middle distance.  In that moment, he truly was the picture of the savage but noble warchief.  It was an identity he’d embodied from the moment Elijah had met him, and getting to know the orc only solidified that impression.

“This is not natural,” he said at last. 

“What’s not?”

“The way I feel about him,” Ok’tarik elaborated.  “It should not be.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I know other things are more important.  My people.  The impending war.  The fleet.  Everything.  But right now, I care nothing for those issues.  I only want him safe,” the orc explained.  “And even though I know he will be better off going with you, I need him to stay here, under my care.  I dream…I dream of teaching him to be a good orc, of molding him into something better than all the others.  I want him to live on even after I am gone.  I…I need him to be…happy.”

To Elijah, it sounded like Ok’tarik had embraced fatherhood, albeit reluctantly and without knowing what it really meant.  However, the halting explanation said as much about orcish culture as it did about the warchief himself.

The fact was that orcs didn’t feel such things.  Or they weren’t supposed to.  Perhaps that was what it meant to be sapient.  Maybe love was the missing ingredient. 

Or at least the capacity for it.

Either way, the words sounded oddly fitting coming out of Ok’tarik’s mouth.  He struggled with it, but his earnestness was more than appropriate.

“I will do my best,” Elijah said.

“You will do better than your best.  You will move worlds for him,” Ok’tarik stated.  “Swear it, or you will feel my wrath.”

Elijah’s back stiffened.  He wanted nothing more than to respond to the orc’s threat in kind.  However, he held that intuition at bay and focused on something more useful.  Ok’tarik’s promise hadn’t come from a place of animosity, but from the love he felt for his newborn son.  Elijah could accept that.

“I swear I will do everything possible to ensure he has every opportunity to reach his potential,” Elijah stated.  “I will protect him as if he’s my own blood.”

That should not have been necessary, because in that boy’s chest was a piece of Elijah’s potential.  It was wrapped in the core he’d been granted, but it was there all the same.  Practically speaking, it was meant as an investment.  As Callux grew, so would the borrowed power be returned. 

But if he fell?

Elijah would never get it back.

On top of that, Elijah hadn’t chosen his path on a whim.  Certainly, he hadn’t really known what would happen, but the reasoning remained just as true now as it had been when he’d bestowed the fruit of his cultivation upon the then-unborn infant. 

Elijah realized then that he meant every word of his promise to Ok’tarik.  It must have shown in his eyes, because the orc took one look and nodded.  “So be it.”

Ok’tarik offered Elijah his hand.

He took it, then squeezed.  Shaking hands was not an orcish tradition, but one that Elijah had taught his ally.  It felt appropriate.  They weren’t just sealing a deal.  They were agreeing upon the fate of not just Callux, but the entire orcish society within Orveth Kaal. 

“What of Makit?”

Elijah shook his head.  “I’ve done everything I can.  She needs rest.  Even then…”

“She made a sacrifice,” Ok’tarik stated.  “She would do so again and again, given the same choices.  Do not fret for her.  I will ensure she has the resources she needs to make a full recovery.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“So be it,” Ok’tarik responded without a moment’s hesitation.  Yet, Elijah could see the pain of that simple statement written large across the orc’s face.  He’d needed Makit to survive, and she had. Now, it was up to her, fate, and, Ok’tarik’s assistance to ensure that she continued to improve.  Hopefully, she would one day return to her old strength.

Maybe even surpass it.

After all, with great hardship often came the ability to improve.  Was that true of giving birth to such a unique creature as Callux?  Elijah didn’t know.  But he hoped so.

His guilt dictated as much.

Finally, the handshake ended and Ok’tarik called for his son to return.  The child did, awkwardly running toward his father, arms outstretched.  He clearly believed he was in line for another session of being tossed high into the air.

Ok’tarik knelt, then placed a massive hand on his son’s shoulder.

“You will leave now,” the orc said.  “You will go to paradise.”  He turned his head to Elijah, then said, “This dragon will protect you.  Treat him as you would me.”

The child clearly didn’t understand.  He might’ve been well-developed physically, but from a mental standpoint, he was still barely better than a human infant.

But that was okay.

He would learn.

He would grow.

And Elijah would keep his promise.

He extended his hand to Callux and said, “Come with me.  I want to show you another world.”