Path of Dragons 18 - Chapter 24 - Alliance (Patreon)

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“Stop glaring at them,” Sara said out of the side of her mouth.  “They’re just doing their jobs.”

To his credit, Elijah hadn’t even realized that he was looking at the photographer in any particular way.  Now that Sara had reminded him to pay attention to it, he recognized the look for what it was.  Still, he struggled to keep his annoyance from showing in his expression.

“Just smile and wave,” she advised.

Elijah didn’t respond, but instead simply followed her lead.  As he did so, cameras flashed, and the subtle din of conversation boomed into full-blown chatter.  A few people called out his name.  Others simply called him Lord Druid, making Elijah even more uncomfortable.  But none of them hit him quite like when someone yelled out a well-earned moniker. 

Butcher of Bloodrock Bay.

Despite the brutality that came from slaughtering everyone in an entire settlement, Elijah didn’t regret his actions.  While those pirates hadn’t personally attacked his grove, they had accepted the people who had.

It was a message for anyone who might do the same.

And that message had been received.  No one would attack the Hartwood Grove now – and it wasn’t just because of the Hartwood Sentries, people like Miguel or Oscar, or any other defenses that had been raised in his absence.  No – the real reason was because everyone knew what would happen if they tried.

A vengeful dragon would descend upon them, wreaking havoc and calamity along the way.

Elijah had proven himself capable of delivering such vengeance on a grand scale, and no one wanted to test his mettle.

Did he enjoy being that symbol of consequence?  Not at all.  However, he recognized the necessity as well as anyone else.  If he wasn’t there to keep people in check, someone would have long since attacked the island.  The mere thought offended Elijah at the most basic level.

“You’re still glaring,” Sara said through her teeth, her smile never fading.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, forcing his emotions under control.  It was much easier than before, even if he didn’t sequester those negative feelings in their own leaf.  The budding ecosystem was much better at filtering out the bad while maintaining the good.

Sure, he would still need to process.  Emotional health was about more than just cultivation.  But he couldn’t deny that his amethyst mind was much better suited to dealing with that sort of thing.

Still, the smile didn’t come easily.

Regardless, Elijah maintained it as he, Sara, and Okar passed a low wall and into the plaza itself.  The space was almost a hundred square yards, and it was just as impressive as the building it fronted.  Marble statues dotted the elaborate tiles, telling stories of heroism. 

Elijah didn’t recognize any of them.

He was just thankful they hadn’t erected another statue of him.  He’d studiously avoided the existing one, largely because its presence on the other side of town embarrassed him.

When he’d mentioned that to Sara, she had laughed, adding that the Day of the Dragon was coming soon.  She had pointed out how much the people of Ironshore would love it if he flew by in his dragon form.

Or joined one of the parades.

Of course, Elijah had flatly refused, which only made her laugh.  For a moment, he saw the old version of Sara – the one who hadn’t had the weight of an entire city thrust upon her. 

Elijah missed that Sara, even if he knew she would never be that girl again.  Still, her excitable nature came through from time to time, but only when she let her guard drop.

Rarely in public, though.  And definitely not on the way to a meeting of the most powerful people on Earth.  Realistically, Elijah knew he belonged in that meeting, at least as much as anyone else.  More, really, if power was the only concern.  A handful had reached the deity tier, but Elijah suspected that he still held more raw power than anyone on the planet. 

He just hoped ranking up to deity hadn’t given them false illusions as to their place in the pecking order.  If it had, Elijah recognized that he would need to show them the error of their ways.

That possibility raced through his mind as he walked the plaza, leaving the press behind at the low wall.  They weren’t allowed inside.

Elijah gave brief consideration to the type of consequences that would keep them at bay.  He hoped they weren’t too harsh.

Above, Elijah sensed a cloud of Isaiah’s drones.  They were clearly meant to be invisible, but not to people with senses as finetuned as Elijah’s.  That seemed like a calculated decision.

Just stealthy enough to ensure he could skate in under most people’s radar, but not so invisible as to offend his powerful guests.  That definitely sounded like Isaiah, who’d clearly learned his lessons about pushing people too far. 

A thousand corpses on his doorstep would do that.

They were allies, after a fashion.  Which meant that he stayed out of Elijah’s way, while Elijah mostly kept out of Seattle.  That bond had resulted in Elijah saving the city, while Isaiah hadn’t held back at all when he sent people into the ancestral world.  Seattle’s munitions, ships, and other technology had made the defense of the Vengeance possible.

The alliance worked, even if Elijah and Isaiah didn’t really get along with one another on a personal level.

Elijah had issues with a few other major leaders.  His relationship with the guilds were probably the most cordial.  They took great pains not to offend him, even when he’d executed a Tamer on their doorstep.  And Elijah didn’t really muddle with their affairs, even helping their people when they crossed paths.

But the same could not be said of his dealings with Hu Shui and the Conclave.  Or more specifically, with the man’s wife, Nyasha.  While the former might’ve been the face of the organization and its enforcer, Nyasha was the real power behind the Conclave.  She controlled everything about it, even going so far as the sanction Elijah’s use of the teleportation system they’d built.

Could he have contested it?  Probably.  The policy might have even been reversed if he’d apologized or made some concessions regarding his actions in Meridian Lux.  Assuredly, that was what she had anticipated when she’d banned him from using the Spires. 

Yet, Elijah had no interest in playing those games.  No need, either.  He could get to basically anywhere on Earth whenever he wanted.  He’d even expanded his dolmen network so he didn’t have to worry about their approval of his actions.  With that, plus Shape of the World Serpent, he could travel almost as quickly as he could if he used the Spires.

In some cases, he could go even faster.

In short, he’d called their bluff.  However, he hadn’t gone so far as to push them out of the teleportation business, which was probably the reason they’d taken no further actions against him or his people.

It was politics of the worst sort, and Elijah had no real interest in any of it.

But as Sara kept telling him, he had no choice but to play the game.  The only other option was to become a dictator. 

Tempting.

Oh, so tempting.

They reached the building’s entrance, and it was just as magnificent as the view from afar suggested.  That was to say that it was festooned with massive columns, each one carved with ornate designs that reminded Elijah of the Palais Longchamp in Marseille. 

Or formerly in Marseille, Elijah conceded.  Aside from Paris, none of France’s major cities had survived the World Tree’s touch.  A few had held on for a decade or two before being overrun by monsters, beasts, or simple political strife that erupted into war.

So it was with most cities throughout the world, most of which were long fallen.  Many had been replaced by new settlements, but Elijah couldn’t help but feel saddened by all the history that had been lost.  As a result, he very much approved of Isaiah’s choice to mimic some of the architectural feats of times long past.  In that way, the memory of a fallen culture could be retained.

Still, the building looked somewhat out of place amidst the rest of the city’s futuristic aesthetic.  Elijah kind of liked it, though.  The contrast made it seem even more special.

The steps leading up to the entrance were grandiose in scope, if not in design.  Elijah and his companions did not hurry.  Instead, they mounted those steps deliberately.  When they reached the top, they were greeted by a fantastic door carved from shimmering blue stone.  Flanking it were ten soldiers on either side, all of whom felt like mid- to high-demigods.  The one standing in front of the door was a deity, though.

Like the others, he wore a basic black suit that reminded Elijah of the U.S. Air Force dress uniform.   There were more differences than color, though.  For one, the cloth shimmered in Elijah’s senses, evidence that it was  heavily enchanted.  The man’s sidearm was clearly a powerful weapon, as was the sword at his hip. 

Elijah couldn’t help but wonder what sort of class he had. 

Was he a Rifleman?  A Pistoleer?  Or was his gun standard issue, while he relied primarily on the sword on the other side of his hip?

There was no way to know until they got into a fight.

Elijah didn’t intend to let that happen.  As he’d told Sara before they’d arrived, he intended to remain on his best behavior.

“General Hamada,” Sara said, stepping forward as she extended her hand. “So nice to see you again.  How is your family?”

“They are well,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it firmly.  He kept a neutral expression, but there was a hint of a smile somewhere in his eyes.  “Thank you for helping my daughter with the apprenticeship in the Forge of Creation.  She has improved her craft by no small degree.”

“She is a talented young woman,” Sara responded.  “We are lucky to have her contributing to our city’s reputation.”

“Even so, we are grateful for the introduction to Master Biggle.”

Sara just nodded in acquiescence, releasing the general’s hand.  He moved on to Okar, saying, “We would be honored if you could give a demonstration to our trainees.  They so rarely get to see a master swordsman in action.”

That was the perfect thing to say to Okar, who puffed his chest out and nodded graciously, saying, “I will be happy to, general.”

Finally, he got to Elijah.

“Master Druid.”

“You can just call me Elijah,” was the response.  “You’re the one in charge of the city’s defenses?”

“Among other things,” Hamada answered.  “I was in the city during the war elf invasion.  I am only alive because you healed me afterward.  Do you remember me, perhaps?”

Elijah shook his head, surprised at the genuine gratitude in the man’s voice.  “I’m sorry,” he said before admitting that he didn’t recognize him.  “I healed a lot of people that day.”

“So you did.  Many among us are alive because of you,” he said.  “Not just in Seattle, either.  You are the single biggest reason that Earth is still here.  Without you, the world would have fallen into the Abyss.  Some people might have forgotten that, but not Seattle.  Not me.  Thank you.  If you ever have need of me, you only have to ask.  I will martial my forces, and we will march at your command.”

Elijah looked at the man in surprise, though he struggled not to show it.  “What about Isaiah?”

“I agree with him,” came a disembodied voice.  Elijah traced it back to one of the nearly microscopic drones.  “You are our champion.  We are allies, and Seattle does not forget.”

That truly did take Elijah aback.  He and Isaiah did not like one another, and neither had made any efforts to disguise that fact.  So, the statement of support came almost out of nowhere.

But Elijah was politically savvy enough to understand that the statement was for sure.  Not Hamada’s.  That was heartfelt enough.  But Isaiah’s?  It was a calculated step meant to let anyone who might be listening know that he and Elijah were in it together.

Was that because he had ulterior motives?  Or did he truly believe that the strength of the alliance, both in actuality and perceptually, was that important?  Probably both.

“Thank you,” Elijah said.  “And so long as our interests align, the Hartwood Grove will remain on good terms with our neighbors in the desert.”

Hamada smiled at that.

Isaiah’s drone flickered slightly.

Then, Hamada turned and gestured toward the door as he said, “Come.  The conference awaits.”