"My Lady, I feel that I must respectfully ask you to reconsider this strategy that you have put forward. Many of us who have examined it have concluded that it is far too rapid in its pace! Surely we must take into consideration that this is a species that visits feral barbarisms even upon its own kind, slaying millions for nothing more than some obscure ecumenical or political point! Assuming we can ever succeed at all, this process should consume centuries --nay, millennia!-- rather than the breathlessly short span that you have foreseen. . . ."
With hooded eyes I watched the Council Elder (What was her name? Damned if I could recall . . . .) natter on, methodically pointing out one area after another where Dithra's plan of re-introducing ourselves to the humans could come apart at the seams. They were good points, and it was a good speech, though the whole argument had doubtlessly been orchestrated by Ahnkar. Whatever his other flaws, and they were legion, I had to admit that old dragon definitely had guts, still pushing his agenda even when my talons were wrapped around his throat.
On that thought I glanced over to the far side of the compound clearing to where the name's owner sat, a corner of my hard mouth curling upward slightly as I noted his own gaze quickly veering away from me. Everyone was doing it; giving me nervous little glances when they thought my attention was directed elsewhere. It was like the elders were having a polite little political discussion in a tidy little tea room, striving to ignore the main battle tank (main battle dragon?) crouching in the corner, looking at them.
The smile faded as my mind went on to other subjects, other problems, such as how to go about telling Pasqual what we needed to do with our children. She would probably try to kill me over it, certainly hate me forever. But I could see no alternative, if they were to survive in a world shared with humans.
Natter-natter-natter. . . .
Almost two weeks had now passed since the battle in the clearing, and the dying season's accumulation of snow was beginning to soften and slump in the afternoons. It re-froze when evening fell, but every day it took just a little longer for Winter to get its battle-lines back into order. Speaking of cold, I remembered the message I received the day after the battle. It was from Ksstha, crafted before-hand and delivered verbally to me by one of his surviving followers.
"Despised creature, if you are hearing this now, then I have fallen in battle to you. If this is my lot, then so be it; I long to once again see those who were torn from me so very long ago by the vermin you share kinship with. But you have not won. You have not won, not as long as a single dragon remains to draw breath, not as long as a single dragon remains to raise their voice against you and your vermin in blessed defiance. The battle will go on, and one day both you and your beloved vermin will fall, as I have, and my people will once again rise up in triumph, and spread their wings to the sunlit skies, their feet grinding down upon the ashes of you and everything you hold dear. . . ."
It went on in this manner at length, then ended with a surprising request.
"All of those who were of my Line are gone, ages ago. So it must be you, my slayer, who performs the Duty for the Fallen. Do it, and in doing so look upon your own bleak future."
Puzzled, I asked Stefan what this "Duty for the Fallen" was, and he brought me up to speed. That same evening, after more than a little thought, I once again found myself in that battered mountain clearing. It was empty now, save for scorch marks where other dragons had fallen, and Ksstha's lonely remains.
I stared down at the crumpled, battle-scarred form, my mane chiming softly in the chill evening wind. I thought about that one brief moment, seemingly an eternity ago, when I saw something in the ancient dragon's eyes, something other than the leaping flames of Hell. I sighed, spoke the ancient words Stefan had taught me, then invoked Power.
Immediately Ksstha's remains exploded into bright blue-green flame, the heat so intense that it penetrated even my steely armor as the Power still lingering within the body was released. I watched, as Ksstha had demanded, and within minutes his body was devoured by the flames, leaving only a scorch mark upon the ground and a small heap of ash that was quickly picked up by the wind and carried away, up into a darkening, star-sprinkled sky. "Rest, warrior," I murmured, "rest at last. I will take up your burden from here, and I pray to the Ancestors that they grant me the strength and wisdom to bear it well."
I stared up at those cold, uncaring points of light for awhile, thinking of far too many might-have-beens. Then I sighed once again, shook my head, and slowly walked back down the hill.
Natter-natter-natter-natter. . . .
Less than a day later, I received the first of the Challenges. Most of them were what I'd thought they would be; acts of vengeance attempted by younger, rasher dragons mourning their fallen elders. Some, however, were nothing more than thinly-veiled assassination attempts, pre-arranged, I suspect, by Ksstha prior to his demise. I should have expected it, I suppose; the wily old warrior had been dragon-kind's closest thing to a general, and he'd had millennia to hone his skills.
The Challenges weren't all-that much of a problem; the tactics used by the younger dragons tended to be of the scream-and-leap variety, and only a few of the most stubborn forced me to kill them. After a week of one Challenge right after another, however, I'd had enough. My next Challenger/assassin was astonished to find me facing him on two legs and clad in full battle-dress. Shortly after that the screaming began, when the first CS round smacked him in the face. I gave him five more, until he finally passed out from the pain. I then slung the grenade launcher back over my shoulder, picked up the chainsaw I'd brought with me, and used it to open his throat. Afterward I turned to the Challenger's horrified cronies, shook the steaming, blood-dripping machine at them, and roared "Which of you dogs is next?"
The Challenges stopped after that, but then two nights later came the assault. We awoke to the sound of exploding mines, and found a dragon writhing in silent agony on the perimeter, his left foreleg ripped away at the shoulder by an AT unit. Additional craters, splashes of blood and marks of a hasty retreat told us he had not been alone. The gravely wounded dragon never said a word before he died, not even after we turned him over to Stefan, but it didn't take a genius to know what he and his friends had been after. Up to that point I'd lied to myself, kept telling myself that somehow, between Pasqual, Stefan and myself, we would be able to manage. That night in the minefield shattered that fantasy, and with a heavy heart I made arrangements for a meeting with Kaa'saht.
Natter-natter-natter-natter-natter. . . .
"Enough."
The Council Elders jumped slightly, then turned to stare at me. I returned their gaze for a moment, then realized with a small start that it was I who had spoken. Slowly I rose to my feet, gathering my thoughts, then turned to Lady Dithra, who once again sat as Council Eldest. "Your pardon, my Lady, but enough," I rumbled, then glanced at Ahnkar. "Your influence upon these proceedings has been noted, Ahnkar; we will discuss your interference at a later time, in private."
Over by Dithra, Stefan rose to his feet at my words, began to head toward Ahnkar. He stopped when I made a small patting motion with one hand. I then returned my attention to the elder dragon who had been speaking. "What you do not seem to realize, Elder, is that we have no choice in this matter; no choice as to this course, and no choice as to its timetable."
I looked at the other members of the council. "Think back, Elders of the Council. Think back just a single century ago. What were the humans like back then? They either walked or rode dumb beasts, and their greatest form of power was realized by burning a bit of wood beneath a covered container of water. What are they like now? Do they not now fly, far better than we do? Do they not now employ tools, machines that make our strength and speed seem as nothing in comparison? Have they not walked upon other worlds? These things they have done in the span of a hundred winters. What will they be like in another hundred?"
I drew in a breath, let it out in an exasperated gust. "Elders, there is no time left. Dithra's timetable is indeed ambitious, but it is the only one that we have any hope of completing before it becomes no longer possible to hide from the humans. Before that day comes, the humans must be willing to share their world with us, or we are lost."
"Their world? Their world? It is ours! Our homes, our lands that those upstart vermin stole from. . . ." I turned to look at Ahnkar, and what he saw in my eyes caused him to choke-off whatever else he was about to say. I gazed at him for a long moment more, then turned back to the Council. "Upstarts? Perhaps. Perhaps not." I murmured. "But even if the humans did indeed come to these lands after we had occupied them, they still have the stronger claim."
There was a rumble at that last from the gathered dragons. Ignoring it, I rose to my feet and ambled out into the clear area before the gathered Council, paused, then began to doodle in the snow with one of my talons. As I drew I glanced up at Stefan, dipped my head slightly in his direction, signaling respect. "The one known as Stefan has labored long and hard to educate me in our ways. Our ways, traditions, protocols, everything. Even a little bit of our mythology." One corner of my hard mouth twitched upward into an ironic little smile as I once again looked back to the Council. "Of those stories, there was one in particular I found intriguing, as it had such a strong resemblance to parts of a human legend."
My doodles were beginning to coalesce into a circular shape upon the ground, one that was already flickering with the first signs of Power. Several Council members shifted uneasily as they stared at it, their puzzlement obvious. "Do you recall the story?" I continued "Of how our people once lived in a dark place, hounded by demons until their wisest created a passageway out of that grim domain?"
A few more practiced strokes and the pattern was complete, shining with blue-black brilliance. I gestured, and it began to rise free of the ground, a construct of glowing lines and sheets of light. "Long did the people roam, through lands of searing heat and lands of bitter cold, through lands where the very air was a poison. Many died along the way, until only the smallest handful survived. Survived to come here."
The pattern was rotating its largest facet toward us, one filled with gray chaos already clearing, already darkening. A black sky studded with cold white dots of nuclear flame came into view, their wan light shining down upon a devastated landscape. "And what of those ancient, stygian lands that our Ancestors fled? Do they still exist? They do, and not just in memory or in fantasy, but in reality."
I bowed then, my arm sweeping across in a grandiose gesture, to end pointing to the gateway. "Here and now, I bring before you those oh-so-real lands. Welcome, dear Elders of the Council, to the realm of your Ancestors. Welcome home!"
Moments later the first of those things hit the portal. Within seconds the entire view was nothing but foaming madness as the dark, twisted creatures tore at the barrier and each other to get at the prey they sensed so-very nearby. To a one, the dragons recoiled violently from the horrific scene, hissing loudly with both shock and horror. I studied them for a moment with a cold eye, then gave them a feral grin. "Ah, but you do not enjoy the sight of my brothers? Yes, dear Elders, brothers, if not in blood, then most certainly in intent."
I sat back onto my haunches, radiating ease. Beside me, Hell strove to break through, but I'd wrought far better this time and the barrier held. "Let me tell you another story," I rumbled. "Once upon a time, long, long ago and far, far away, there was a world. It was a very old world, cold and harsh in its twilight years, and those who dwelled upon its face were in turn just as cold and harsh. Those people bickered and fought amongst themselves, forever jockeying for power and position," I paused minutely, mockingly, "until there came one who thought he had discovered the key to ultimate power. In his mad bid he tore the very stuff of Life from those near him, and used it, twisted it, to create a different sort of life."
I glanced back up at the creatures within the portal. "A military form of life. One as brutal, vicious, and implacable as the battlefields it was bred for. But life owes allegiance to no-one, and that power-mad fool soon found himself being devoured by his own creations." I made a slicing gesture. "That was the end of him, but not his creations, who thrived, multiplied, and spread. Soon the people of that world found themselves beset by the ultimate predators. Beset, and overrun."
Oh, the more it changes, the more it stays the same, the human half of my soul quietly sang, its mental voice bitter in its mockery. My mane clashed harshly as I gave my head a sharp shake. "Does this not sound familiar, O Elders? Desperate, their rapidly dwindling numbers being devoured alive, the people turned to those among them who were the most adept in the workings of Power. Those magi, however, could do little but slow the onslaught, buying time to find a way to escape the doom that reached for them all." I gestured to the portal again. "They used that time to work out a way to weave devices such as this; devices to open passages to other realms, and through these passages the people fled."
"But most realms, most worlds, are hostile to life, being too hot, too cold, or most commonly dead and sterile. In a journey to make Exodus pale in comparison, the people blundered from world to world, leaving a trail of their own dead in their wake. Then, finally, a last, pitiful remnant opened one last passageway, and found themselves looking upon Paradise."
I paused, my eyes scanning the crowd, my silent audience rapt in spite of themselves. Then I lifted a single talon skyward, slowly tilted it down until it at last pointed at the snow beneath me. "Here. This is the world the Ancestors discovered at last, and settled upon, refugees of their own folly. Refugees, and usurpers."
I looked to Dithra's agent, who looked just as spellbound as the rest. "I once discussed with the one known as Stefan how it was that we were the only higher creatures upon this world with six limbs rather than the usual four. His answer, unfortunately, was not correct. The magi remember the true answer, and when the proper pressure was applied one of them showed it, showed this, to me. Why they have kept this secret to themselves for all this time, while letting others forget, is a question that I will leave you the task of asking them."
At last I turned my gaze back to the banded dragon. "So, Ahnkar, if the humans are thieves, then what are we? When the Ancestors settled within this realm without so much as a by-your-leave to the humans, to the Lung, what were they?" I stabbed a talon at the banded dragon. "If you truly wish to apply the metric of thievery, Ahnkar, then I have only one thing to say to you and all the other dragons, on behalf of myself as the last of the Lung, my family, the humans, all those who are the true children of this world.
"Get off our land."
I raked my gaze over the silent group for a long moment, then gave them all another dose of that feral grin. "And where would you go? Well, you could always . . . go home," I hissed, jerking a thumb at the gate to Inferno that hovered beside me.
I held it there, for a long, slow count to ten, then my tail whipped out and across the patterns carved into the snow. The portal shattered in a concussion that rocked all of us. Into the ringing silence that followed, I quietly spoke. "You are the guests in these lands, not the owners. Adopt Lady Dithra's policy and make peace with the true owners, or go home. The choice is yours. Make it now."