Chapter 9: Chapter 8: Hard Lessons

When the fae mentioned the obelisk, Rael expected there would be some grand quest to understand what they meant by it. Azmond understood; Wollow told a bunch of stories about fae sending someone on a long journey for love, adventure, or ‘just because’. But when Rael asked the Faulk about it, they all nodded and pointed in the same direction. They paddled south for an hour, the group trying very hard not to look at the extravagant bouquet Rael had wrapped in linen to protect. When they came upon the obelisk, Rael rose an eyebrow as Azmond marveled the ancient structure. Rael and Azmond stood before it, on one of the rare patches of solid land in the swamp, wary of the reflections on the seamless structure. The rounded pillar was neither carved nor constructed, yet it was clearly artificial. The surface was gray and smooth enough to see their reflections in, yet there were lines that ran up and across the obelisk, not painted nor carved. At the top of the three-meter-high pillar, there was a melon-sized hole orbited by the lines. Azmond cocked his head, thinking there was something off about the hole. Rael prowled around the column like a restless beast and they addressed the anomaly.

“The fog is invisible through the hole.”

Azmond started. They were right! He could see the blue sky through the hole. The Child of Dragons moved around the structure until he could find the most sunlight. Azmond wanted to lay down in the dewy grass and bask in the first real sunlight he’d seen in months. He got on his knees and hummed contently as the sunlight shone on his face.

“Shamans often come here to meditate.” Ulric said as he sat down to whittle. “Some say they can still hear the whispers of the Dragons who left the Dragonneedle here. Helps with forming new spells.”

“Why aren’t there more people here, then?” Rael continued pacing around the obelisk.

“It’s more convenient for shamans to meditate at the one placed within the Stone Circle. No chance of a fae or beast interfering in meditation.” Ulric’s hands made quick work of the driftwood, forming the general shape of a kneeling child. “Especially since the fae seem to hold the Dragons in as high regard as we do. Maybe higher.”

Rael shivered despite the humid heat. They looked around, eyes shifting to find any sign of more fae.

“There’s a chance that we can encounter more fae?”

“Naw, they actually respect the Dragonneedles.” Kip was leaning against a willow tree on the bank. “So long ‘s we don’t stay here for more than a couple hours.” He pulled some jerky out of his pack and began chewing at it. “But ‘m surprised you came out normal. I’ve heard from Gorm that entering the realm of the fae is nuts. Like everything that isn’t real becomes real, and all the things that were real disappeared.”

“It was weird.” Rael nodded as they sat down by Azmond, who was nearly dozing in the light. “We couldn’t breathe, but we didn’t need to. We couldn’t speak, but our largest thoughts were made public. We couldn’t move without willing to. And when we moved, it was not in a line as we do now, but instant.” Rael snapped their fingers. “And when the fae was angry or confused, or curious, you could feel it like I feel the mud beneath my feet, the wind in my hair, or the heat on my skin.”

“That’s not really how Grom described it.” Kip shrugged. “But I guess it’s different for different people.”

“You could ask Oro.” Ulric said, his knife chiseling intricate patterns in the horns of the child he sculpted. “He’s had a run-in with a few fae.”

Azmond remembered Oro! It was quite easy since the first time they met was unforgettable. Rael still needed help walking around, and the young raider offered to get a sturdy branch for Rael to use as a cane (or staff, as Rael insisted). When he found one, a deer with a bright red pelt and antlers came out of nowhere and bowled him over, breaking the branch in the process. Rael and Azmond were too stunned to follow the deer, but it had apparently disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

“He’s had the same run-in with the same fae.” Derrol clarified. “I don’t know what that deer has against him, but I don’t think Oro ever entered a fae realm.”

Rael whistled as they kept their eye on the obelisk. “What are we supposed to do here?”

“Think, meditate, relaxed, practice, exercise…” Ulric held his carving up to get a better view. “I’ve heard many tales. Best I figure, we just need to be near it to reap some benefits.”

The group stay there awhile, basking in the sight of the ancient menhir as the sun traveled unseen overhead. The grasses swayed in the cool northern breeze, fog fingers trickling between each blade like a lover running a hand through hair. The water flowed so slowly, one would think it were motionless had one not seen the fallen leaves drift further and further away from the willow. The lone tree on the bank of the small island stood firm as the moss that hung among its branches swayed over the youngest captain. Kip was done eating jerky, leaning in a squat against the tree, muscles straining from the exercise. He watched Rael and Derrol duel, the oldest captain sending the young Dragonward to the ground every time they hesitated or slowed. They wrestled and punched near the water, careful not to disturb the whittler and his napping muse. Azmond blearily opened his eyes, watching as Rael was pinned to the ground once more.

“Why are you doing worse than before?” Derrol sat on their back as the youth struggled to escape from his weight.

“I’m still recovering from the strangeness of the fae.” Rael grunted.

“Recovering?” Derrol frowned. “Tell me exactly what happened once you were taken.” Rael squirmed away from the captain’s heft, and told their account of what happened. The more they spoke, the more the other captains looked to one another in confusion.

“What you experienced isn’t just different, its wildly different from other accounts.” Ulric had stopped whittling, scratching his head in confusion. “We’ve all heard tales: you enter a forest or a cave that feels wrong, and the silence becomes deafening. Your thoughts and emotions begin to form and could even hurt you. The fae, the intelligent ones at least, look like beautiful maidens and men. Their words don’t match the movement of their mouths and they are as quick to anger as they are hard to please.”

“That doesn’t sound like what we witnessed at all.”

“Aye.” Ulric nodded as Derrol continued to twirl his fingers in his beard.

“What interests me are the names you chose for yourselves.” He said. “You mentioned there was like a weight was put on you when you chose to identify yourselves.”

“It was like the weight of memories were pressed on me,” Rael pulled at some weeds as they sat down. “Flashes of feelings and places just slipped into my mind, like every glimpse added a heavy stone on my shoulders. Az had it worse. I shouldn’t have put a word with so much history on him.” The Dragonward’s expression was downcast.

“I just needed a nap.” Azmond yawned.

“Perhaps you could do with the same.” Derrol pulled Rael to their feet, as he had done every time he had thrown them to the ground. “It’s best we go. You still have an emblem to craft.” Rael began dusting off their clothes, but the collected dirt and mud from over a dozen losses was too much. They eyed the obelisk.

“Why do you call it the Dragonneedle anyways? The top is rounded. Its shaped like a Bergin baguette.”

“The hole is called the dragon’s eye.” Derrol pointed at it. “Thus, Dragonneedle.”

“Can I see?” Azmond sat up, reaching for Rael. “I wanna get a look through it.”

Rael smiled, lifting the child to their shoulders so he could see. Just as Rael stepped closer for Azmond to look, the Dragonneedle’s lines lit up in a blue light. Azmond flinched, but it was too late. He’d already looked through the hole. He was assaulted by information once again, a beam of light spearing into his head. His eyes rolled back and he fell. His cry was cut short.

Rael, quicker than they could think, caught the falling child in their arms, breath hitching as their heart thundered in their chest. They put a finger to his neck. A pulse. Rael almost let out a sigh of relief but kept firm and checked Azmond for any injuries. His eyes were open and unfocused, but everything else made it seem like he was sleeping. When they passed their hand over Azmond’s head, Rael flinched. He was burning up.

“I don’t understand.” Rael muttered, the captains looking on in shock. “I don’t understand…”

Azmond heard them talk as the world faded to white. When he said he was alright, he may have fibbed a bit. He didn’t have a headache before, but the word ‘Scaled’ still weighed heavily on his mind. He knew what Rael was talking about when they said it felt like there was a heavy stone pushing down on him with every glimpse, every memory. The first few memories came easily enough, ideas and definitions about the Scaled. Simple concepts that bore more than just psychological weight but historical mass as well. How his kind were revered, but sometimes hated. How their words were listened to, but sometimes misinterpreted. Most of all, how they were always remembered. It was within the realm of the fae, where ideas and concepts were made real and all that was corporeal was made unreal, Azmond learned something that terrified him to his core. He was important. He was different. Something that would have satisfied any normal ten-year-old almost drowned him in his terror, fearing that everyone he’d ever met was only after what he was, rather than who he was. Until Rael’s grip tightened their grip around his hand, and he knew what they felt. Rael was worried, not for the Scaled, but for Azmond. The by they met in a mask, who stuck by them when things got tough. That was the truth for Rael, a shield for Azmond to cover from the coming avalanche of memories.

Those memories that washed over him left their mark, but Azmond did not understand them. Until he looked through the eye of the Dragonneedle. It was different compared to the chaotic and forceful way the memories of the fae realm crashed into his mind. Once the beam of light entered the child’s head, they spread through his jumbled brain like a soothing ripple. He was still reeling from the fae encounter from a few hours ago, but the light seemed to recognize that. It slowed down and disabled Azmond’s motor functions, sending Azmond into unconsciousness. As Rael and the captains faded from his waking mind, the magic spread through his brain and began to work. When Azmond dreamed of the things he once saw but could not understand, he was confused. Just as he was the last time. He marveled at the explosions lighting up the night sky in blues and greens, watched as his unfamiliar hands pulled slots from apiaries to shake away gold and silver dust into buckets, breathed in the noxious fumes of a carriage running without a beast to pull it. Until he asked himself how it worked. His thoughts and consciousness scattered in disarray, rejoined as the echoes of the answer came to him. He knew then that hydrocarbon chains were an incredible source of energy that could be used power reactions, explosions to moves metal by way of piston and pump. He wondered how he came to know that answer, and his consciousness faded once more. When he came to, the answer waited for him in the recesses of his mind. His brain was still unaccustomed. To know, his consciousness had to disappear, fade away as foreign information flooded his brain.

Azmond woke with a strangled gasp. Tears had soaked the pillow of his hammock. He looked around the familiar room, bobbing steadily as people walk around the longboat. He could hear someone beating metal into shape towards the aft of the ship. Heart thundering as panic tried to seize control, he rushed out of the room and up the ladder to above deck. Rael was there, working at the newly relocated forge. Two forges on the starboard and port aft were covered by tarps. Not enough to keep the smoke from collecting, nor enough to block the navigator’s stick, but just enough to keep the forges and smiths away from wind and rain.

Azmond found Rael working on a pair of silver bands, enmeshed with two of the sapphire flowers they’d gotten from the fae. Rael had bas under their eyes, sapphire and lapis dust covering the floor, their knees, and their feet.

“Rael?”

Rael swung around, dropping their hammer as they swept him up in a big hug.

“Az!” They held on to each other tight. “I was worried, even when Bak told me you just needed to rest. I’m sorry I let you near that thing, I should have known it was a load of stupid bull—”

“’M okay.” Azmond nestled his head into their shoulder. “Just some weird dream.”

Rael separated from the hug and held his shoulders tightly, meeting his eyes in a fierce frown.

“A ‘weird dream’ does not put someone to sleep for a full day.” They asserted, Azmond looking over their shoulder to stare at what they were making. Two hydrangea flowers, each framed within the open maw of an iron dragon with inlaid sapphire eyes.

“What are those? They look cool!” Azmond pointed, desperately trying to change the subject. Rael stood up and sighed.

“Just promise me you’ll tell me if you’re feeling sick or uneasy, okay?” Azmond nodded, eyes still trained on the jewelry. Rael stretched, groaning as their joints popped. “Every Faulk that goes to the Althing needs an emblem, a symbol that represents us. Every one of a Jarl’s men bears his crest on their shields, every one of his captains flies the Jarl’s flag above their own. And since we’re a duo, we needed our own emblem. I wanted it to be a sword with a bunch of lightning bolts held by a dragon…but I was told it was ‘too cluttered’ and ‘messy’.” Rael snorted and shrugged. “I went with Ulric’s recommendation to use what the fae had given us. A dragon with a hydrangea in its mouth. A hydragonea? Whatever.”

Rael picked up two silver bands from the table by the anvil and clipped the emblems onto them. They pulled the soft metal apart on the larger band, fitting it on their left bicep, and closing it firmly again. Rael motioned for Azmond to bring his arm close, repeating the process until the emblem was firmly secured around the child’s arm. Azmond ran his finger across the band, pinching and prodding at it.

“Rael, I got a good price for the other three flowers you gave me. More than enough for the silver I gave you. Hells, it’s enough silver to last a lifetime!” Someone called from below. Gault popped his head up from the ladder, beaming when he saw Azmond. “Ah, I knew he’d be alright!” The smith was cradling a few ingots of silver underneath his arm, held together by twine as one would tie together logs of wood.

“Why don’t you hold onto it. It’s not like I can bring it with me to the Stone Circle.”

“That’s fine.” Gault gingerly placed the silver by the forge. “It’s not like we can find a use for silver outside of trade.”

“Why use silver then?” Azmond raised his hand to ask, only for his brain to jolt.

Silver. A soft, malleable metal, relatively uncommon in the cosmos. Exhibits highest electrical and thermal conductivity of any mundane metal and highest reflectivity of any metal. Powerful antibacterial uses due to toxicity to bacteria while remaining safe for handling for carbon-based animal and plant cells. Due to its nature as an easily processed and undegradable metal, it is ventured to have value as a form of capital in most trade systems, like gold.

You are reading story Dragon’s Legacy at novel35.com

Azmond blinked a few times as his faculties returned to him, Rael and Gault staring at him in confusion.

“What?”

“I should be asking that.” Rael frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Did I say all of that out loud?” Azmond bit his lip, shirking under Rael’s worried gaze.

Gault let out a low whistle. “Incredible. You looked the eye of the dragon and returned to us with Their insight.” Rael glowered at him, and he held up his arms in surrender. Rael huffed and put their hands on their hips.

“Let’s try to avoid relying on the ‘insight of the Dragons’. Az didn’t sound like himself.” Rael stared pointedly at Gault as the smith wrung his hands and avoided eye contact.

“I’m just saying, there is as much strength in knowledge as there is in unity.” Gault stood up straighter.  ‘“The shield wall is as sturdy as the weakest hand’ doesn’t just apply to the warriors holding the shields, but the men who crafted them.”

“Even if it may hurt Az?” Rael’s eyes were like daggers. As they stomped forwards to poke their finger into a steadfast Gault, there was a creak from below.

Neither Rael nor Gault heard it, each raising their voice to speak over the other as they argued. Azmond stared curiously as a hand pulled a soggy Faulk over the side of the longboat. Derrol, bald head glistening in the faded light of a foggy late morning, held his sopping beard close to his chest and smiled when he saw Azmond. He held a meaty finger to his lips, a cheeky glint in his ice-blue eyes. Azmond stood still, struggling to keep a smile off his own face. The soggy captain moved on the balls of his feet, stepping carefully behind the two smiths.

“…I’m not going to sacrifice—GAAAH!” SPLASH!

In one swift movement, Derrol grabbed Rael by the hand they flung about in exasperation and threw the youth overboard. Azmond rushed to the side of the boat, Gault standing there in muted confusion. Rael erupted from the surface, gasping a few lungful’s of air until they found Derrol looming over them from the longboat.

“DERROL, WHAT THE SHIT?!”

“Save your breath!” Derrol called out, ignoring their screaming. “It’s time for you to finally learn something.”

“I AM GOING TO STICK MY FIST SO FAR UP YOUR—”

Rael wasn’t having a lucky day. They hadn’t slept in two days, they were exhausted from work and worry, and they’d been constantly interrupted. Like when they were pulled under the water again. Gault had come by to look, leaning on the railing and wincing when he saw them get pulled under.

“I’m still impressed at the distance you can keep your Tome-warrior from yourself, Captain Derrol.” He was careful with his words.

“Training to increase the limits of your Tome’s range only comes with benefits.” Derrol asserted, focusing entirely on the bubbling water.

His Tome-warrior walked out of the water and onto a nearby sandbank, dragging a struggling Rael. The young Dragonward sputtered and struggled, cursing through gasping breaths until they were flung several meters onto the sand. They rolled a few times, digging up clumps of wet sand, until they came to a stop. They struggled to their knees, gritting a mouthful of sand.

“What in the hells is that asshole thinking…?” They grunted, glaring at the massive Tome-warrior. He resembled a younger Derrol, with a head full of hair and a circlet much like Jarl Feldon’s. The key differences made it so much more intimidating than either Feldon or Derrol; it was taller than the latter, more muscular than the former, and lacked any sort of smile or mirth, its dead eyes staring down at Rael with all the passion of a sunbaked mud toad. Azmond poked into Derrol’s side as hard as he could, a small frown on his face.

“Why are you doing this?”

“This is for their own good.” Derrol’s eyes were hard-set and focused. “Rael could punch, Rael could kick, but they haven’t yet learned the first, most important lesson in fighting. And if they can’t even figure that out, then they might as well stay on the drakkar when we go to the Althing.” Rael stumbled to their feet, spitting out sand from their mouth. They held up their fists in preparation. “At least they’ve got the will to fight. You could learn something from Rael, Gault.”

“I’m afraid I’m too craven to fight, Captain.” Gault winced as he watched Rael and the Tome-warrior circle one another. “I don’t have the grit.”

“No craven is self-aware.” Derrol noted. “You may not have the grit for bloodshed, but you help the community, in your own way. I acknowledge you, Smith Gault, son of Captain Ur.”

Gault stood up a bit straighter. The Scaled, the Smith, and the Captain watched as two fighters paced around each other on the sand. Rael paused. So did the Tome-warrior. Rael charged. They ran to it and threw a punch at its chin, but the Tome-warrior sidestepped, sending a slap to Rael’s hand. Rael kept following the punch, twisting on their leg and diving towards the Tome’s blind spot. It swung around with a devastating haymaker. Rael kept low and kicked at the Tome’s ankles. They flinched when their foot hit what felt like a steel bar. They tried backing away, but the Tome-warrior wrapped Rael up in a crushing bear hug. The Dragonward managed to wiggle out of its grasp somewhat, but it held firm to their shirt, holding them aloft with an arm as thick and as strong as one of the Grand Mangrove’s branches. Rael held onto the arm, trying desperately to kick at the Tome-warrior’s face. The Tome caught one of Rael’s flailing feet and took a few blows to the face. It staggered a bit but continued to bring Rael up. Once Rael was held up nearly three meters in the air, it slammed Rael down into the ground.

Gault winced. Azmond cried out. Derrol did not react. Rael lay there, wheezing as stars danced in their vision.

“Isn’t your Tome-warrior partly based on your father?” Gault said worriedly. Derrol nodded. “Jarl Throng the Crusher?” Derrol nodded again.

“And Thorgan, his brother. Champion of the Stone Circle for ten consecutive Althings.” Derrol whispered. Gault shivered, knuckles white on the railing as Rael got up again, storm brewing in their eyes.

They limped towards the Tome-warrior, one arm cradling their side. Rael grit their teeth and charged again. The Tome-warrior sidestepped again, extending its massive arm to clothesline Rael. The youth was crouching already, pivoting quickly to drive a kick between the legs of the goliath. For the first time, it groaned in pain and moved back. Rael, whooping in joy, threw a punch into its nose. Rael’s cry of victory died in their throat when a meaty fist caught the punch. Squeezing hard, the Tome-warrior pulled Rael into a weighty gut-punch. Rael’s body went limp as their body spasmed in pain, struggling to breathe. The Tome dropped Rael to the ground, fighting for every hollow gasp. Their groans sputtered into growls of rage.

“How well can you control it?” Gault asked. Derrol rose an eyebrow inquisitively, prompting Gault to sheepishly summon his own Tome. A hammer. “You could see why I insisted on hosting Rael…I haven’t met anybody else with a Tome-tool. I tried asking Sherra about her Tome-warrior, but she’s never really had a way with words.”

“Let me guess. She said something like: ‘You just got to feel it.’” Derrol said gruffly as he wrung his beard dry. “Tome-warriors are a lot of trouble because you can only describe them like that. I can’t tell it exactly what to do unless I’m using it to cast a spell. ‘Go there,’ ‘attack,’ and ‘defend’ are reliable commands. You understand what they’re capable of. As few words as possible, otherwise it just sits there dumbly. They look human, but I’ve seen capricorns smarter than them. Hells, I’ve seen catfish smarter than them. Too stupid to fear death, too stupid to react to anything unless you will them to. That, and how they fight just like the people that inspire their creation makes them formidable warriors.”

“Is-Is there any danger for Rael?” Gault was leaning over the railing, focusing on the Dragonward as they slowly crawled to their feet.

They unleashed a hoarse roar and ran towards the Tome-warrior. They slowed and flung some sand into its face. Just as the Tome closed its eyes, Rael drop-kicked it in the gut. The Tome grunted and caught their legs, swinging them around a few times and letting go. Rael flew in a large arc, back into the dirty swamp water.

“It does understand the difference between ‘train’ and ‘attack’.” Derrol confirmed, crossing his arms. “I think our Dragonward is coming close to the realization.”

Rael came back up treading water. They flipped over and floated there as the anger simmered just beneath the surface. They held up a hand, watching as the rivulets of water rand down their arm and joined into a little stream. Their hazy mind was piecing something together behind all the fury and pain. They summoned their Tome-dagger, the typical ache from its summoning lost in the archipelago of agony that dotted their body. “The water joins together to form a current.” They whispered, the mad scrawl of the spells dancing on the blade. “[Synthesis].”

Two lines blurred and melded to become one. Rael was too tired to be surprised it worked. A bark sounding like a strangled giggle erupted from their mouth. They swam, a tainted smile of bile and blood smeared across their face. They held up their dagger and readied it, pointing at the Tome.

“By the Dragons, finally.” Derrol rubbed his hands on his head. “I’ve never met someone so stubborn. Let’s see if they can finally do something. Just to be sure…[Echo Voice].”

Rael steadily approached the Tome-warrior. Until it opened its mouth and said something Rael had heard too many times before.

“You fight like a girl.”

Rael’s mind went blank. They snarled, abandoning all plans they’d hastily concocted.

“[Hydro-kinesis].”

Water blasted from around the sandbank, twisting into spouts releasing dozens of kilograms of pressure as they carved furrows into the sand. The Tome-warrior dodged two spouts converging on it, missing Rael coming at it from the side. It danced away from Rael as they attempted to stab it in its side. Rael continued charging at it. It readied a stance, bringing its fist low for an uppercut. Rael kept going, swinging their knife and dragging a whip of water from the swamp to strike at the Tome’s face. The Tome-warrior held up its arms to block, the water leaving a nasty gray welt on its arms. Its skin tore open and the manifested flesh around it began to fade away. On the backfoot, it kicked out at Rael. Rael, acting on instinct they didn’t know they had, vaulted over the thick limb, dragging their knife across it. Blinded by rage, they stabbed towards the Tome-warrior’s neck. The Tome, though on its knees, wasn’t done yet. It caught the dagger through the palm of its hand. It opened its mouth again. Rael’s spell was still active, water rushing towards the back of its head like a hammer.

“[Greater Leap].”

Rael didn’t register what it said until they felt a jerk pulling them, ripping the dagger out of their hand. Rael fell flat on their tailbone. Disconnected, the Tome-dagger faded away and the rushing water lost its momentum, collapsing on the sand behind the Tome-warrior. When they looked up, they found Captain Derrol smiling at them with his mismatched teeth, standing in a crater of sand.

“What did you learn?”

Rael’s heart finally slowed down, enough to feel their muscles screaming and taste the iron on their breath. They thought back to every spar they’d had with Derrol’s massive, fearless, and skilled Tome-warrior, and how they eked out any advantage. It was dirty; aiming low, throwing sand, and even using magic against an opponent that didn’t use theirs. Rael thought they were fighting like when they were younger. When things were simpler. If there were more people to fight, you just hit harder, struck faster, fought better. Until they got their magic, and fights became even more unfair.

Unfair.

Rael didn’t realize this until now, but there was no such thing as ‘fair’. Not in a fight. They won against the other kids because their father could afford to constantly put meat on the table, because Rael grew taller, because Rael got into more fights. A fair fight ended in a bloody draw, and an unfair fight ended with victory. And no matter how Rael whined when other kids would use their magic to fight them, they did not stop, or fight one-on-one.

“Fighting fair is for suckers.”

“Pretty much.” Derrol nodded. “People that tell you to ‘fight with honor’ are usually the hypocrites that have been trained all their lives, practicing as others provided for them. They have weapons and armor made especially for them, never having earned a weapon through their own strength. We can’t tell them not to do that, even if they’re the type to yell at their opponents to fight them in a single file line. So, we make sure we fight with the advantages we have. This lesson broke you of the illusion of fairness in war, of mercy on the battlefield.” Derrol lifted Rael to their feet, his Tome-warrior fading away into the fog. He clapped his hands on Rael’s shoulders. “Now come! Jarl Feldon has a spot for you on his drakkar.”

You can find story with these keywords: Dragon’s Legacy, Read Dragon’s Legacy, Dragon’s Legacy novel, Dragon’s Legacy book, Dragon’s Legacy story, Dragon’s Legacy full, Dragon’s Legacy Latest Chapter