I swam in close to Modessa through some cloudy water where the sharks had been. I internally groaned at the thought I might just have swum through the excrement that Dragon Fear had forced them to evacuate. That alone was enough to make me swear at the silhouettes of the fleeing sharks in the dim light. If I ever saw them again, they'd end up inside my stomach for certain.

  I closed in on Modessa's unconscious form and swam in a slow circle around her, using the size of my body to hide her from the other predators and my strength to protect her from the tumultuous currents.

  Pulling her tiny, fragile form into me brought out a strange kind of rage. This could just as easily have been Cami. In fact, Cami likely would have died from such a blow. Modessa had the benefit of being level twenty, and she probably had more than one magical device to help protect her.

  It wasn't that I cared about the rogue, as much as what it made me think about. As gently as possible, I reached out my clawed front legs and pulled her to me. I tilted my head to the side and held it close to her chest to listen.

  Her heart still beat, but it was weak and faint. She'd never survive the journey to the surface in this state. I called upon the magic I had learned as a human. This was the first time I had actually cast a spell in my dragon form, and deep within me there was a slight tremor of doubt that the magic might not work for me.

  Lesser Regeneration.

  A surge of divine magic went through me. It felt so much weaker in this body than it did when I was playing human. Yet, even now, I sensed the faint presence of Miseria in this magic.

  This magic would enhance Modessa’s recovery and I held her close to me while chain casting the spell until it stacked five times on her. It wouldn't bring oxygen to her lungs, or more importantly to her brain, but it should prevent the breakdown of oxygen-starved cells. At least, that was my hope.

  Something did annoy me about this, though. I found myself longing to know how the magic worked. Would it do what I wanted it to? I grumbled, sending a host of bubbles rising to the surface. Did this mean I was going to have to do what Lisella had talked about, and actually have to study the theory of magic rather than simply performing it?

  My eyes were open the entire time I was casting, and even if my mind wandered, I paid close attention to what was going on around us. The churning of the water had slowed, and I could begin to see more of the light which weakly trickled down from the surface.

  The kraken had completely sunk beneath us, and the majority of the predators had departed. A few scavengers might still consider grabbing an easy meal amongst the dead sailors, but they all gave me a wide berth. Overhead, the shadow of the ship showed it had moved beyond where we were.

  The problem I now faced, was that once I reached the surface, I would have to transform again or the rest of the adventurers would know what I was. Maybe Lisella was correct, and they only sought an alliance with dragons. They had still used rather brutal tactics and treated us as unreasoning beasts.

  I was done casting my healing spells, and it was time to move for the surface. That was when I caught a flash of green light beneath me. I shifted to move myself between whatever that was and Modessa before looking back down.

  The glow was coming from the open mouth of the dead kraken as it sank into the depths. The green continued to brighten until a creature burst forth from the previously fearsome beak.

  It looked like what I'd think of as a jellyfish, but was more than six feet long—not counting the slender tendrils trailing behind its mostly oval-shaped body. Its translucent form shot through the water. And then I heard it.

  Not with my ears, although sound travels quite well beneath the water. No, its mind pressed in on mine. It shrieked a single word, but there was so much hatred packed into that word that it made me nauseous.

  "Dragon!"

  It repeated the word again and again till I realized I should probably take the battle, which was beginning to feel imminent, topside. The creature simply wasn't right, although I couldn't exactly explain why I felt that way. I simply knew that it reminded me of the horror—though it definitely wasn't that powerful.

  One of the tendrils pushed up in front of its body as I moved to swim to the surface. I felt the tingle of magic dancing along that tendril and, before I could flee, black broken rays formed a tight spiral as they spun out from the tentacle and struck my scales.

  Agony hit me, despite there not being the least bit of physical damage to my scales. It would have been impossible to tell where I'd been struck except for the horrid burning and itching I felt inside. It was almost like the thing was attacking my soul.

  Then, with a great push of water behind it like a jet, it blasted forward and latched on to my hip, at the same spot it had managed to hit me with its spell. I felt my life being drained and a creeping weariness began to soak into me.

  I shook my head, disrupting the water, and sought to shake the thing off of me. How I wished I'd taken Electrical Aura before. No matter how I shook, the strange jelly-fish hung on to me like a parasite, trying to ooze its way into the tiny crevices between my scales.

  The agonizing pain intensified, and I wanted to shake harder, even if it killed Modessa. I simply had to get this thing off of me. Then I opened my mouth to roar and did… a dragon thing. I should have thought of it before, but being stuck in a human form for so long must have corrupted my mind.

  I breathed in and then blasted out a full bolt of lightning from my open maw right at the creature on my hip. I was immune to electricity and was counting on that fact not to conduct any charge into the helpless Modessa.

  The powerful electrical discharge created plasma as it ionized the surrounding water, resulting in a bright flash of light accompanied by a visible shockwave. The violence of the force underwater caught me off guard and rocketed my body backwards, sending me spinning as I tried to desperately cling to Modessa. The burning pain within my thigh was gone, but the flash had been so bright that I was temporarily blinded and struggled to see what had happened to creature.

  Interlude 7 - Unfettered Terror

  Modessa’s blade came down. Shadow magic was of limited value when trying to protect herself from the tentacles of a creature so large that it virtually ignored her attacks—or at least that was how many would see it. She had delved deeper into the pursuit of the shadow than most, and she realized that many paths of magic all led to the same point.

  Shadow could cut if it was condensed enough. It had no natural mass, so it could be shaped and made as thin is possible. Some of this was allowing her mind to conceive of her magic in the way it was needed. The sheath of shadow which wrapped around her short sword as she struck out at the tentacle made her weapon hit harder and cut through the tough skin in advance of her blade actually making contact.

  That skin was squishy, but tougher to penetrate than most any target she had ever struck. It sought to soak up any damage and spread it out over the massive tentacle. Her shadow magic focused on penetration, allowing her blade to pierce deeper than ever would have been possible.

  Once she had her blade deeply embedded in the monstrous appendage, she willed the fire enchantment worked into her sword to trigger its overload function. To most, it would have looked like she cut down, sliced deeply into the tentacle, and then pulled back the weapon all in one smooth motion. As they said, she made it look easy. Only those attuned to magic would see the shadow, although the gout of flame which exploded out when her blade pulled back was visible for all to see.

  Next to her Galbrecht, her Brechie, struck down with his sword. And not just his blade, but the entire man was bathed in a golden glow. She had no time to spare on stray thoughts, but dang the man was gorgeous. He was older, but she appreciated his steadiness. Hers had been a life of chaos and it felt reassuring having him at her side. He might be blind to her interest, but she was used to that pain.

  The creature shuddered and a tentacle lashed out at her, except that was the wrong way to think about it. It swept across the deck and she was blasted backwards. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brechie get slammed back at an angle. Then, the crushing pain as her head smashed through the ship’s railing drove all thought from her mind. She was knocked out into the sea, but was unconscious before her body hit the roiling waves.

  Her mind was racing still, though it only operated at a subconscious level. In her occupation, there were always those adventurers who seemed fixated on death and dying. She’d usually kept her thoughts to herself on the subject, but one thing that people repeatedly described was how in near death moments, the images of your life supposedly flashed before your eyes.

  They speculated that it also happened to those who died—a way of knowing that the gods were weighing the merits of your life. Modessa was hardly what one would call religious, but there also was no denying the many ways the gods impacted life on Ileian. She was what she liked to think of as an irreverent believer.

  What had the gods ever done for her, anyway?

  When suddenly the worst moment of her life began to flash before her closed eyes, Modessa knew without a doubt that the gods were right royal pricks. Who else would make her relive this moment as a way of judging her? She wanted to think it was just a flash of memory, but it was so much more—Modessa felt like she was there.

  She felt so small, so helpless. Glancing down, her hand was that of a child. She’d been what… eight when this happened? Life wasn’t easy. She’d worked more than she played.

  This was the village she grew up in with her parents, two older brothers, and her baby sister. Her father was a simple man. He cut wood for a living and they lived on the very edge of the town, maybe outside of what was considered the town proper. Her mother mended clothes for farmers and others in town to help buy food for the family.

  There was never plenty, but she’d been happy. The child Modessa had never felt it unfair for her to do her part, much of which consisted of her watching her younger sister so that their mother could work. It wasn’t a bad chore.

  Cymi was almost four on the day it happened. Everything had begun like a normal day, but then the screams had started. Modessa had heard people fight before. Her father had covered her eyes, but people got worked up at times, and it wasn’t unusual for people to fight. She’d even heard the older boys yelling in anger.

  This wasn’t that. This was something different.

  It wasn’t even the cries of pain that marked it as different. It was the raw unfettered terror she heard in those voices—and it cut into her young soul, scarring her forever. She couldn’t help herself, but remembered to scoop up little Cymi before she ran around the corner of the house to see what it was. She could see the town over the small stone fence her father had built to keep the few sheep they had inside.

  That image was forever burned into her mind. She watched as flames in more shades of orange than she knew existed consumed the homes of her village, burning them all down. Worse though, spears of those flames moved in unnatural ways. They pierced through person after person. They waved about and the people stuck on them screamed in agony as they were burned alive from the inside out.

  Modessa pulled Cymi close to her. She screamed and cried, but Modessa covered her face and turned to run. It didn’t do any good.

  Out of the flames walked a man with glowing green eyes. Those eyes had been seared into her memory. They were the thing she woke up to in terror many nights.

  The man wasn’t walking on the ground, but instead walked through the air on a path of flames. Those flames streamed forward and blasted into her house. Inside, she heard her mother’s screams as the house went up faster than seemed possible. There was something unnatural about the fire. Why her mind stuck on that point, she didn’t know.

  Bryant and David, her brothers, came running from where they’d been caring for the cow out back. They both froze. One of them, she couldn’t tell in her memories which one it was, cried out, “Oh goddess, Miseria protect us.”

  It always bugged her that she couldn’t remember which one of her brothers had said that. Details mattered. Her training had proved that to her over and over.

  Then, even more spears of flame came blasting for her. She dove and landed heavily on her shoulder, curling around her little sister. That moment of pain filled her memory. Protecting Cymi was too important. She cried out for her brothers to run. She wanted to think they could protect her, but whatever was attacking them was no man; he was a monster.

  Cymi was crying, and Modessa absently made a soothing sound. “Quiet baby girl, please be quiet. It’s gonna be okay. Sissy’s got you.”

  When Modessa looked up from the ground, she saw both of her brother’s bodies floating in the air. Each was skewered by a spear of orange and green flame. Their screams bit into Modessa, as though her flesh was being physically torn apart. The look of pain and fear on their faces was too much. Her older brothers might have picked on her sometimes, but she loved them.

  A part of her subconscious mind began to rebel. Why did this memory have to be so vivid? She’d caught glimpses of all this in dreams before—or rather, nightmares—but never all at once. It was like she was being forced to dredge up and relive all the details of the worst experience of her life.

  Then, in her memory she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eyes. Her brother’s bodies fell limply to the ground. She heard a broken, insane voice gibbering.

  “No, not the ones. No magic. No, must eat. Fate’s threads. Feel it pulling.”

  That movement materialized into her father running from the woods. He leapt over the small stone wall with his double-headed axe in hand. She had seen him slay a wolf with it once, and many times had watched him fell a tree. Daddy was larger than life, the strongest man in the world, invincible.

  But instead of hope, she felt only cold terror. She wanted to scream out for him to flee, but her mouth wouldn’t form the words.

  She needed to be saved, so badly.

  It all played out just as she had feared. The floating madman laughed, no he giggled. “Oh, you’ve got some spirit. I feel a bit more of the threads in you.”

  Those accursed spears of flame shot out from him. Daddy’s axe did no good. It hit the dirt as the flesh of his hands was seared to the bone, and then he too was skewered. Blissfully, she must have closed her eyes when that happened, because her memory became only auditory at that point. The screams were horrible—especially in counterpoint to the hideous giggling—but at least she didn’t have to see her precious father die.

  She stayed very still and covered Cymi’s mouth tightly. Tears streamed down her sister’s face, but at least she wasn’t making any noise. The monstrous man began to float past her. Modessa’s fear was too great to allow for any hope. She didn’t dare move.

  Then the man spun in the air. “Ah, there you are little mouse. I almost lost the scent.”

  Modessa remembered the worst pain of her life. That is saying a lot for someone who’s been burned by acid, shot with arrows, stabbed with daggers, and had a limb hacked off. But whatever the fire was that pierced through her, it burned her from the inside.

  The spear of flamed had gone straight through her and skewered her sister at the same time. The baby shrieked and shuddered and then was gone.

  “Ah, the young provide so little sustenance…” The voice frowned. “But you. Oh, I think there might be more to you.”

  Then, without any warning, that deep burning pain was gone. There was still a fierce pain in her chest where she had been burned, but it was easy to bear now that the flame was gone.

  The monstrous man was screeching himself now. “No! How did you find me so quickly?”

  There were other sounds and fighting, but she drifted in and out of consciousness, so she was unable to recall memories that she had never observed. What she did remember, was that when she woke, there was a man bent over her. His hand was on her chest and she felt a wonderful warmth go through her. She’d never forget his words.

  “By Miseria’s mercy, heal this child.”

  Healing Touch

  Modessa looked up and saw bright blue eyes. He was a man, but younger than her father had been. His face was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. Then, behind him, she saw another figure in singed gray robes. The second man was some type of wizard from the stories with a staff, but he appeared exhausted. It seemed the staff was the only thing keeping him upright.

  Words came to her memory, words which she had buried before this. They were dredged up from the depths of her psyche and perused for the amusement of some god standing in judgment over her life. In the present, Modessa wanted to shriek at the violation.

  Then, she was back in the memory.