“You will find that we bonded dragons are not as affected by the Pact as others, but even with that said, I have trouble caring about much beyond Turan Lev and the Clan. I believe in stopping incursions, but mostly I leave the gods alone. Let them bring meaning to the lives of the little races with their short lives. What I won’t tolerate is the absolute destruction which the horrors desire.”

  “So to you, we dragons are simply the guard dogs of this world, not its rulers.”

  She scoffed at me, exhaling a small bit of flame and smoke. “You want to rule the world?” She kept going before I could answer. “Even the grandest of wild dragons don’t want that. You’ve met Draconis, correct?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And did you think that he lacked in strength?”

  “No.”

  “If he wanted to conquer a nation, perhaps even all of Ileria, he might be able to. But what then? By our very nature, dragons are greedy for wealth and perhaps for strength, but we don’t desire political power. Having a few hundred minions is quite tiring, as I’m sure you’ll find out. Control also means responsibility… and above all else, we dragons are lazy.”

  I wanted to argue with her, to point out that this was only a trait of reds, but there were echoes of the truths learned in the Dragon Dream contained within her words.

  When I didn’t respond, Beliciosia shook her head. “You have much to learn, young Nicosandumas. But for now, I would have us hunt. How does seafood sound for dinner?”

  Interlude 8 – Hold the Wall

  Cami stared at the other dragon rider. He wore red scale armor, which if she didn’t miss her guess came from his bonded companion. That struck her as odd.

  “Something wrong?” the much older man asked.

  Cami looked at him again. He had to at least be her father’s age, but if the bond truly slowed aging, he could be far older. She’d have to be careful.

  “No, I was just thinking about your choice to wear red dragon scales as armor.”

  “Why? They provide excellent protection.”

  “Yes, against fire, but doesn’t your bond already do that?”

  “Ah, young one. Yes, it does. Now I understand your confusion. It’s more of a cosmetic choice. Beliciosia likes it when we look alike. You’ll learn as Nicosandumas ages. Dragons become more idiosyncratic with age.”

  Cami nodded. “Then do you mind answering a curiosity of mine?”

  “Of course not, just as Beliciosia is trying to provide some education to Nicosandumas, I am here to help you.”

  “Oh, first, just call him Nico. When you say his full name, it grates on me. But what I wanted to know is, how old are you?”

  He smiled. “Yes, that is an important question for every dragon rider. I’m 389 years old. Beliciosia was just over three hundred years old when she chose to bond, so we have been together for more than half of her life.”

  Cami’s eyes grew wide. “How long can a dragon rider live?”

  “As long as their dragon does, of course… and sadly, in a few cases, even longer. A dragon can live to be thousands of years old if they reach the wyrm stage.”

  “What do you mean if?”

  “Ah, there is so much for you to learn. Yes, well, all the age categories can be reached over time, or if your bond becomes deep enough by you leveling. From the information we have, I believe you already know about the latter. Each dragon can live to be a certain age, but must reach the next age category in order to continue living.

  “A few wild dragons die because they don’t mature enough. Perhaps they sleep too much, but they age out before they reach elder. I’ve never heard of it happening before that stage, though. It happens to more of them before they reach ancient, but the real barrier is wyrm. Each dragon must find their own way to wyrm. They must reach ancient before 1,000 years and most do so close to that age. But then they must reach wyrm by age 1500, or they will die.”

  Cami suddenly felt a small fear for Nico, but she quickly pushed it away. There was nothing Nico couldn’t do. They would overcome it together.

  “And if they reach wyrm?” she asked.

  “There are records of wyrms reaching 3,000 years of age, but they must go into hibernation before that and just never wake up. Legends say that, in the distant past, that there were dragons who were even beyond wyrms… like the great mother, Tiamat. But that was before the Dragon Dream, and so either Beliciosia doesn’t know about it or won’t tell me more.”

  For a moment, Cami was lost in thought. To live to be 3,000 years old…

  She grinned. Just how far could she push her craft if that were possible? She would be able to forge items which could sunder the heavens. Now, she was excited. There was much for her and Nico to talk about. They’d been holding back, but they needed to continue to grow.

  “Then we should spar,” Cami said. “I need to grow stronger.”

  “Interesting response. I think I’ll like you youngling,” Turan answered with a smile on his face.

  ________________________

  Sheraleigh gobbled up the sheep in two bites. It wasn’t as good as a cow, but she liked to mix things up from time to time. Her servants brought her as much food as she wanted, and her chief servant hadn’t bothered her for days. It was always difficult with him, though, because he was some sort of ruler amongst the humans.

  That much at least Sheraleigh had figured out—it was something she was particularly proud of. She imagined that not every dragon would be so perceptive, nor would they take the time to bother learning tidbits about how the lesser races interacted.

  Still, every time he came to her, he bothered her about bonding. Or at least he had until a month ago. Then, his visits had stopped. Now, though, the barred doors to her lair opened up.

  It was so cute that the little beings felt safer with metal bars on the doors of her lair. It wasn’t like she couldn’t have flown up to the sky anytime she wanted to. The lair had a clear path upwards and she watched the night sky now as she looked out.

  The doors had just opened, though, so she lowered her head to take in what was coming. Her nose told her first who it was; she smelled the scent of her chief servant, Castine. The other servants, who seemed to always follow Castine around, also came in. She always smelled more magic about these humans than any of the others who served her.

  When Castine walked in, he greeted her, “Good evening, Sheraleigh. I hope you’re well. I apologize for not having visited you in over a month. Affairs of state have kept me busy.”

  She snorted. “Bah, a month… a month is nothing more than a nap to a dragon. You have kept your tasks up, though, by providing me with many tasty treats.”

  “Yes, I can see that you’ve grown even more since I saw you last. That’s very good.”

  Sheraleigh looked herself up and down. She was, of course, gorgeous. But perhaps he was right; she might have inched forward in her age category. Lots of easy food without hunting was probably the optimal path to growth, she mused. Then a darker thought struck her.

  “You aren’t saying that I look fat, are you? I’ll have you know that I’m not a red.”

  Castine waved his hands in front of him like he always did when he was trying to appease her. “Oh no, never. You’re as gorgeous as ever, Sheraleigh. I sent some more gems down to you while I was gone. I hope you found them enjoyable.”

  Sheraleigh glanced over at her slowly growing hoard. It wasn’t the largest, but she was still very young and she had done nothing but be her glorious self to obtain it. The Dragon Dream spoke of much larger hoards, but those dragons had to go out burning and pillaging to gather such wealth.

  No, she shook her head. As long as her servant Castine did his job, she would let him keep feeding her and growing her hoard. “Why do you bother my rest, Castine? I know I’ve told you more than once that I will not partake of this bond with a lesser being.”

  Castine said, “No, Sheraleigh. It isn’t anything like that. I was going to tell you that war is coming to my Empire. Things may become hectic for a while. I likely won’t be able to visit you as much or find you as many shiny trinkets—although, I will do my best to make sure that you’re still fed as much as you want.”

  Sheraleigh rose up to her full height. She was more than twenty feet long and knew that she must be an imposing spectacle to such a creature as Castine. She even let out the waves of her Dragon Fear, though it was only level one.

  That should teach them proper respect. Oddly, Castine didn’t so much as sway when she did. She was about to get more serious when he continued speaking.

  “You are, of course, free to leave anytime you wish, but I did want to mention that I believe one of your clutch mates, Nicosandumas, will be arriving here within the next few weeks, perhaps even sooner.”

  When Sheraleigh didn’t say anything, Castine stood in silence for a few moments before turning and leaving. Sheraleigh was in too much shock to bother reprimanding him for turning his back on her. She didn’t know if she was ready to see her brother.

  Nicosandumas…

  He had always protected her. In fact, it was because of him—at least indirectly—that she had obtained this wonderful lair and these many servants, even if none of them would agree to become minions. But he had also been the strangest of their clutch.

  No, Sheraleigh was not at all sure what to think about this turn of events. So, she did the most natural dragon thing of all and plopped down to take a much needed nap. A few days of sleep were what she needed. Yes, a few days of sleep would help her think of the best plan.

  ________________________

  General Westin was sitting in his office when one of his aides came rushing in without even knocking. “General…” the man’s voice was ragged, and he was clearly in distress.

  Westin was still prepared to dress him down for the violation of protocol. Even here… no, especially here on the border, protocol was required. It was true that protocol was a form of discipline—and discipline saved lived.

  Before the aide could say anything more, though, the warning horns were sounded. Once… twice… Westin was standing as the second horn went off. That meant this was going to be more than just some minor skirmish.

  When a third horn sounded, the General’s heart started beating rapidly. A true attack, then. He went to grab his armor. Fortunately, it was enchanted and very easy to put on. Before the third horn had ended, a fourth began to sound.

  His eyes bulged.

  Rather than grabbing his sword, he picked up the communication crystal on his desk and shoved his way past his aide as he rushed to the walls. These walls were the shield of the kingdom. They kept out all the monsters which inhabited the western mountains. No officer wanted the post he ‘d been assigned to, but it was still the most necessary position in the kingdom.

  Even the King had spent several weeks here, returning to the capital only a month ago to prepare for the spring festival and deal with some matters of court. The General shuddered as he ran—that was a job Westin never wanted.

  He had that thought as he reached the top of the wall and saw the streams of monsters pouring out of the passes in the mountains. In the lead were companies of orcs; Westin recognized some of their mercenary banners. There were goblins by the thousands, and peppered amongst them were ogres and trolls.

  But what really got his attention were the mountain giants. They were as much more than their lesser kin from the lowlands as mountains were greater than hills. Each one stood at least forty feet tall and was a walking engine of destruction.

  In that moment, Westin almost thought that dealing with the conniving nobles in the court might have been worth it. Almost. Either way, he started barking orders and then channeled a thread of mana into the communication crystal. His only thought was, “Please let the king answer quickly.”

  The wall was going to fall without significant reinforcements. That wasn’t a prediction; it was a dire fact. The only question that remained, was how long could he hold the wall?

  ________________________

  More than two hundred miles to the northwest of where General Westin stood on the wall, a robed figure struggled against artic winds. These mountains were brutal. Up this high, very few creatures survived.

  There were some, of course. He’d been forced to deal with a yeti, for example, just the day before. The occasional ice elemental popped up, but the closer he got to his target, the fewer such creatures existed. They knew who the King of this mountain was, and the story was that in his youth he’d been a brutal ruler.

  Tolston hated the fact that he’d been sent on this mission, but at least he no longer felt the cold. He didn’t even have to expend magic to stay warm. It was no longer necessary .

  He had reanimated, not as the free willed lich that he’d wanted to be, but rather as an arcane skeleton. Some of the power of his magic was gone, but he still retained much of it. His master had assured him that if he served well, they would find a way for him to break back into the legendary ranks once more.

  He’d done it once before, after all.

  Tolston shook his head for what felt like the millionth time. He’d wanted immortality, but not like this. Never like this. He hadn’t even wanted undeath as a lich, but he had betrayed the sitting Emperor in favor of an older regime, and this was now his fate.

  He could either fall down and wait for centuries to wear him down, or he could accept his new role. It was a bitter pill—one that he couldn’t even swallow any more.

  Now, though, he was on a recruiting mission. Tolston bore a priceless magical artifact with him. He was jealous. If he had used this artifact, he would still have been undead, but at least he would have controlled his own destiny. Now, it was being offered up to recruit the aid of an ancient white dragon, Iskaldurdauoi.

  The trek had taken him days because even his master couldn’t say exactly where the dragon had holed up. Now, though, Tolston believed he had found him. Just a few more hours, and he should be there.

  As those hours wound down, Tolston found himself eventually climbing up to and then into a wide cave mouth. Surprisingly, there were no minions. He had expected that at least there would be some orcs to provide for their master’s needs, but what did he know? His master had reported that Iskaldurdauoi was not long for Ileria. He was old, even by dragon standards, and had failed to break into the wyrm category.

  His body was failing him.

  Tolston walked into the lair and saw the dragon. He was perched atop a mound of what the former Archmage took for his hoard, but both dragon and hoard were covered with a thick layer of ice. Tolston felt a moment of panic.

  Perhaps he was already too late? It wouldn’t matter that it wasn’t his fault. Failure was never treated lightly, as well he knew. This really was his last chance. Then the ice cracked, and red eyes gleamed out in the low light.

  “Who would dare intrude upon the realm of Iskaldurdauoi?”

  The creature’s voice was deep but sounded rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in decades. Which, Tolston realized, was entirely possible. Before he could even answer, the dragon burst to his feet and jagged shards of ice blasted out in every direction.

  Tolston’s new body was more durable but also much more complicated to repair. A mage shield sprang up before him and blocked all of the shards. When he waved his hand, waves of fire rushed out from the shield, melting the ice in front of him.

  The dragon seemed to wince at the fire. “A mage… but you don’t smell of the living. A lich?”

  “Close enough,” Tolston admitted. “I come representing one greater than I. I have an offer for you.”

  “I serve no man. I may not be what I once was, but I’m still a dragon,” the ancient white sneered.

  Tolston understood the sentiment, but chuckled inwardly. It didn’t matter. In life or death, everything would end up serving his master.

  “My master has a proposal which, if you accept it, will give you a path forward. He has an artifact that can give you the ability to become a wyrm.”

  Silence hung in the air as sharp as the biting wind while the dragon pondered those words. Finally, he spoke again, “Go on. I would hear more.”

  Chapter 34 - Terrors of the Deep

  We turned and flew further west but remained far out from the coast. I didn’t ask why we didn’t hunt as we flew past large schools of fish, giant squids, whales and other things. The horizon stretched out, a clear demarcation between the cobalt expanse of the sky and the shimmering azure of the ocean. The glistening sea below us moved with fluid grace, occasionally erupting with sprays of water as large aquatic creatures came up for a breath or leaped in play.