Fyre Fly: Chapter 38 - Dracus

When I have a chance to read the scrolls I purchased to research dragons, they’re less illuminating than I wanted them to be. One of them is about the value of dragon bones and scales, and the arcana applications of such ingredients. It also makes it abundantly clear how rare such items are, due to the rarity of dragons themselves. That itself doesn’t bode well.

The bestiaries contain stories, mostly. Some read like history, while others sound more like myth. It’s clear that dragons did exist at some point in this world, but the danger they presented made them targets of beast hunters, and eventually the bounties on their heads became so high that the animals were hunted to extinction. Again: this isn’t boding well for Sandro’s Role.

“Good morning,” I greet everyone as I sit down for breakfast. Gardi (and Salvia) are sitting with Sandro (and his guards) along with a handful of other travelers we’ve acquired along the way. Some of them are participating in knowledge exchanges with our own experts—Agate for farming, Yequirael for weaving, Dizzi for artificing—while others are paying their way simply for the novelty of it all. The Fyrethains have grown a lot more used to visitors by now. I’m sure it’s a welcome change of pace from the experiences they had with the Jorrians.

“Good morning, Lord Fyre,” Rei greets me. She’s a black and white felis, one of Sandro’s guards. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

“What, I can’t share breakfast with you all without needing something?” I tease. She’s right, though; I typically sit in the meal circle at the head of the room with Mirzayael and the other leaders. Today, however, they’ve already eaten and set about their daily work. I’m a bit late due to the dragon scrolls I was poring over.

“Okay, I do have some things I wanted to talk about,” I admit with a guilty smile. “Actually, I was hoping to grab the two of you, Gardi and Sandro.”

Gardi looks surprised. Sandro looks concerned. His cloak quivers.

“It’s about dragons,” I say. “Gardi, were you aware of any other dragons like Ollie in the arctic?”

“I don’t think any dragon is like Ollie,” they admit, glancing toward the head of the room. The wall behind our meal circle opens onto a wide open-air pavilion, which is where Ollie typically sits at meal time. He isn’t there now, so we’re met with the sight of blue sky and distant clouds instead.

“As far as I know, dragons aren’t supposed to talk,” Gardi continues, peeling their gaze away. “But, no. As far as I know, the last ice dragon was killed long before I was born.”

Unfortunate. But I had sort of expected that. “Have you heard about anywhere else in the world they might exist?” I extend the question to some of our guests sitting in the circle, passing a questioning gaze over them as well.

Gardi shakes their head.

It’s Salvia who speaks up next, however, surprising me. “Ollie can do magic, right?” they ask. “He has affinities.”

“He does,” I admit, wondering what that has to do with anything. But I’m curious to indulge. “Ice and wind.”

“Animals aren’t supposed to have magic,” they say. “Sometimes it can happen if a creature is very long lived. It’s said they absorb magic from the world. Over a lifetime, that can add up.”

“Creatures can also gain affinities through concentrated exposure to magic,” one of our visitors adds. She’s a lamia with light brown skin, wavy dark hair, and a blue and yellow pattern over the snake half of her body. She communicates with sign language, and a jewel she wears at her neck glows as it repeats the words aloud, similar to Ollie’s necklace. I wonder if she is lip-reading all of us, or if she has another way to interpret what we’re saying. Many of our other visitors sign and speak when around lamia, but none of the Fyrethians, or Gardi, for that matter, seem to know the language.

“It’s common for creatures that live near Ruins to gain magical affinities,” she continues.

Salvia nods along. “Well, dragons need a wind affinity to fly, right? So probably you’d be looking for something very old, which means it would be very secluded. Or,” they add, gesturing to the lamia woman, “near a source of wind arcana.”

“The Drifting Isles is a source of wind arcana,” another visitor, this one a dhampyr, suggests. “We mistook your city for the Isles at first.”

A narrative I’ve heard several times now. If there are dragons left in the world, could they have retreated to an ancient, remote land hidden in the clouds? I have to believe there are dragons out there somewhere for Sandro’s Role to not be a death sentence. Blair had said his role would reset even after he slayed a dragon, so it’s designed for more than just one.

As much as I loathe the idea of hunting an endangered species for the benefit of one person. There’s has to be something I’m missing. There must be a nonviolent solution to this. But can I solve it in time?

Gardi scowls, a rumbling sound building in their chest. “Ruins are dangerous. The gods destroyed them for a reason.”

“What?” the dhampyr says with a laugh. “No they didn’t. It was a natural disaster.”

“In all the Ruins at once?” the lamia counters. “No. Something happened. But I suspect it was arcane in nature. Perhaps a weapon.”

“Or disease,” a felis suggests. “We know the world’s population was significantly reduced at that time. Perhaps without people to run the cities, their technology fell into disrepair, leading to the mana leakage we see at those sites today.”

Gardi does not appear to be pleased by any of these suggestions. “Gods make the most sense. All of these civilizations, destroyed at once? What else has such power save the heavens?”

“If the gods wanted those cities destroyed, there wouldn’t be any trace of them left,” the lamia points out.

Gardi hesitates. “They could have left the remains as a warning to others.”

“A warning about what?” she counters. “If their remains are intended to dissuade us from doing something similar, what are they warning us not to do?”

Gardi frowns, looking down at their breakfast. “I… I am not certain.”

Salvia seems to find this conversation highly entertaining, grinning smugly when Gardi happens to glance in their direction, which just sends the felis into an even deeper scowl.

I take a bite of the meal, attempting to hide my own smile. This is good for Gardi, even if they might not want to admit it.

“So dragons require a wind affinity to fly,” I say, bringing the conversation back on track. “Does that mean some dragons can exist, or did, without the ability to fly, assuming they never obtained a wind affinity?”

The lamia woman shrugs. “Possibly. There are many dragon-like creatures that still remain in the world without a wind affinity. Drakes. Wyverns.”

I perk up at that. “Is there a clear-cut definition for what defines a creature as a dragon versus dragon-like?”

Everyone looks around at each other uncertainly.

“I don’t know,” the dhampyr finally says. “Beast classifications is not my area of expertise.”

The same seems to be true for everyone else where. But this brings me back to the words Shirasil had said to me before departing: Find a bestiarian. Your kid isn’t the only dragon in the world.

This must be significant. What if there are creatures that may not be a dragon in name, or even appearance, but will qualify for Sandro’s Role Requirement?

“Sandro,” I say, and the boy startles. Goodness, I need to work with him on separating himself from his cloak’s feelings, somehow. “I’d like to speak with you in private once we’re done with the meal, if that’s alright?”

He nods, a little too quickly, and starts shoveling food into his mouth.

“Er.” I raise a hesitant hand in protest. “You don’t have to rush.”

He swallows down an overfilled mouthful of fruit that I’m not even sure he’d finished chewing. It moves down his throat in a visible lump. That has to be painful. “I’d rather get it over with.”

“It’s nothing bad,” I promise.

Somehow, that makes him look even more frightened.

I wonder if this world has some form of anxiety medication.

Despite my assurance that he can take his time, he finishes the meal in another couple of minutes, everyone watching him in bafflement. I excuse us, promising the others (mostly his guards) that I’ll bring him back shortly.

Sandro is tall and gangly, at least a head taller than me, but the way he hunches makes him seem small.

“Are you doing alright?” I ask him as we casually meander toward the open wall. I figure some fresh air will be good.

“Sure,” he says, his eyes darting around, as if at any moment someone is going to pop out and grab him.

“I know things have been hard since you arrived here,” I tell him. “We’ve all been through certain… trials. But I want you to know that I want to help you, alright? You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”

The cape hugs his shoulders like a kid wrapping themself in their blanket. “Why do you want to help me? I attacked Ollie.”

“You didn’t know he was a person.” We step out into the sun, and my skin tingles pleasantly under its warmth. “And I have a feeling that without the Role Requirement, you’d have no interest in fighting dragons anyway.”

“I don’t!” he cries. “Please, you have to believe me—”

“I do!” I interrupt, unable to hold back a small laugh. “I already do. That’s why I want to help. Ollie and I also both have Roles, you know. We’re all just trying to figure out how to manage them.”

He looks at me in surprise. “You do?”

I manage not to shake my head in disbelief. “You should consider engaging Echo more often.” I hold out a hand. “I have an ability that lets us speak mind-to-mind. It will give us more privacy. Is that okay with you?”

The horrified look he gives my offered hand indicates that no, it’s not okay with him. Then he takes a breath, holds out his hand, hesitantly draws it back, then clasps my hand.

I smile encouragingly. “Thank you. I know that took a lot of effort.”

First I take a moment to ensure our conversation is kept private from Mirzayael, Ollie, and the Core (I’m sure Sandro would panic if someone else popped into the middle of our talk) then I activate the spell.

[Psionic Touch activated.]

Fear hits me like a truck. I flinch, nearly letting go of his hand, as anxiety washes over me in waves. I have the abrupt urge to run, to hide, to look over my shoulder—

I mentally stabilize myself and push the feelings back. They’re not mine, they’re Sandros. And they’re not originally Sandro’s either; I can feel the Shroud cowering in the back of his head, emitting wave after wave of intrusive thoughts. They hammer into Sandro, and he bends beneath their incessant weight. In response, I try to emanate calm thoughts. The two emotions intersect, and like oscillating waves of opposite phase, they cancel each other out.

Sandro blinks. He straightens a little, looking around us in awe. “How did you do that?”

“Emotional self-regulation,” I say. “It always came pretty naturally to me, but you can learn it, too.”

“Wow.” Sandro closes his eyes for a moment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I think, and he jumps again. This one is a bit understandable, however. “Try responding to me through the Link.”

“Like this?” he wonders.

I pat his hand. “Perfect. Now, I’d like to work with you on separating yourself from that cloak of yours, but that’s not why I wanted to speak with you right now. I’d like to get more information on your Role without anyone else listening in.”

He tips his head, looking at me curiously. “You mean the gods?”

Without the Shroud affecting him, he’s a lot more observant than I was expecting. “Exactly. The two you saw before might be on our side, but I don’t think they can entirely be trusted, and other gods even less so.”

He nods. “What about my Role do you want to know?”

“You said you have to slay a dragon,” I say. “I want you to ask Echo to precisely define what she means by dragon.” I’ve already asked Echo this myself, but I have to be sure that the answer isn’t any different with respect to his Role.

He raises an eyebrow. “Uh, sure. One second.” He pauses for a moment. “Okay. She said, ‘A Dragon is a member of the dracus family.’ So I asked her what a dracus family was, and she gave me a whole list of things. Do you want me to repeat it? It’s kind of long.”

He already beat me to my next question. “A long list is great! It sounds like we have options, then. Go ahead.”

It turns out, the long list is, in fact, long. Echo lists at least ten different types of elemental dragons, which is a bit redundant, but then goes on to list other names, some of which I have heard of, and some of which I haven’t.

Wyverns, wyrms, drakes, amphipteres, hydras, and sea serpents all make the list—as do dracids, which surprises me. I suppose I should have guessed as much from the name, but I figured the association was more due to appearances rather than any actual genetic relation. Perhaps dracids are to dragons as humans are to chimpanzees. Once again, a field of science entirely outside of my wheelhouse. But the important thing is, we have options.

“This is great,” I say. “If the others were correct, then many of the species on this list may already be extinct, or at least too rare to find. But there’s several on here that I think we can work with.”

“I’d love to not fight a hydra,” Sandro thinks, some of his own authentic worry creeping in.

“I’d prefer that as well,” I say. “But this is a starting point. I’ve heard of wyverns and drakes before, so they must not be as rare as the others. Perhaps some of these creatures could be hunted for meat and supplies.” If it could be used to benefit others, it would make me feel a lot better about needing to kill one.

I can feel Sandro’s relief, but there’s still a degree of reluctance. “Even if we find one, I don’t know if I can beat it. When I tried to attack Ollie, it wasn’t even close.”

“Does Echo say you need to win by yourself?” I ask.

He pauses another moment. Then he grins. “No,” he says. “I don’t.”

“Then we’ll be there to help you,” I promise. “I’m sure Mirzayael would love to train you up a bit with that sword, too. All we have to do now is figure out where these creatures live.”

And which are the closest to our location. I still haven’t forgotten about the need to find a place to land the Fortress. As much as I want to help Sandro, I can’t let his quest to find a dragon delay our increasingly urgent need to find a place to land.

Echo, can you tell me where each of these creatures can often be found? I ask her, recreating the list of names Sandro read off as well as I can remember. I leave dracid off for obvious reasons.

[Affirmative,] Echo says. A moment later, a list appears in my vision.

A lot of the ones with “dragon” in their name have “Unknown” listed beside them. I assume that means they either are extinct, or there at least haven’t been any recent sightings. But about five other species populate with lists of locations.

My gaze lingers on one of the locations provided for wyverns, and an abrupt, drastic idea occurs to me.

“Thank you,” Sandro says aloud, drawing my attention back to him. “You were right earlier. I have been all alone. And scared—though I suppose I can thank the Cloak for that. But I appreciate having someone who understands.” He pauses, and I can feel his swell of emotions as he becomes choked up. He quashes the feeling a moment later. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

“I promise that’s not necessary,” I tell him, letting go of his hand and letting the Psionic Touch end. “We’re all in this together.”

Sandro visibly wilts as soon as I let go. He winces, glancing around nervously, but his gaze returns to me. “Okay. I trust you. Should, um. Should I go find Mirzayael now? To help with training?”

I pat his arm. “Maybe we should work on that emotional regulation, first.”