《Dragon Core》 1: The Ending Which Is The Beginning When one loves an object very much it is possible to leave an imprint upon its substance. A shadow of your own soul, your intention and desires. At best it can be a legacy to impact the future. A talisman to your descendants, carrying a memory of your presence. This is not a true path to immortality, for there is not enough time to imprint an entire soul onto an object. Why, even to imagine such a thing were possible, the process would take centuries, if not millennia. Even the longest-lived of aelfin-kin would die long before such an imprint was complete. No, those seeking to outlive their deaths are best served seeking other routes.
PROLOGUE
Beneath a mountain of gold, an ancient dragon lay sleeping. The treasure carried a curse, one which held him as surely as it prevented any thieves from decimating his horde, a curse of slumber and stillness. If the dragon were to wake, if he were to stand up from amid his gold and prowl down long-empty corridors to his entry cavern, he would find a feast of sleeping adventurers from a dozen countries and eras lying atop the lesser treasures they foolishly sought to steal away. But he did not wake. The dragon slumbered on. The would-be thieves slumbered on. Outside the cave, a sign had been carved into the lintel, a warning to explain the curse and dissuade new fools from entering. The words were worn by weather and time, the message faded but not yet illegible. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Dust coated the entry cavern in thick layers, obscuring the form of the thieves and treasure alike. Dust drifted in the sunlight from the exit window far above. Dust concealed the true nature of the dragon¡¯s final resting place. His home, his place of power, had become his silent and lonely tomb. The heat of his body had slowly reshaped the golden coins upon which he lay, beneath which he lay, into a perfect prison fitted exactly to his body but for a single flaw. Beneath the dragon¡¯s foreclaw, his chin resting upon its rough surface, lay the centerpiece of his horde: a gemstone older than the mountain itself. Light glimmered within its crystalline depths, its colour the fiery red-gold of molten amber, flickering in time with the dragon¡¯s slowly beating heart. The dragon slept and the centuries passed. No ripple of concern disturbed his dreams of conquest; dreams of power; and most of all, dreams of gold. But all things must end. Even the most powerful curse cannot last forever. One day every adventurer awoke as the last trickles of magic faded away. They coughed and choked upon the dust which covered them, but most survived the ordeal and set about looting the place as they¡¯d long ago intended. The lesser treasures were easy pickings, so easy that they turned their attention at once upon their fellows. Those come soonest claimed priority through chronology, while those come latest claimed priority through enlightenment and strength. Unnoticed amid this chaos, the dragon lay gasping futilely for air beneath his golden prison, his mighty strength insufficient to break a thing so perfectly molded around himself. His only movement, the claw which tightened over the warm crystal, determined that if he were to die he would at least never surrender his greatest treasure. By the time the surviving adventurers reached the central cavern, the mound lay cooling above the dragon¡¯s unmoving body. Beneath the dragon¡¯s still, cold claw, the gemstone pulsed with fiery life. 2: New Reality The arrival of the Words of Calamity was a quiet thing. They appeared gradually, slowly insinuating themselves into our world years before we realized the true danger they presented. It was only after the Second Calamity, the Calamity of Advent, that the Words were recognized as the first. If we had understood then what the words portended, we may have been able to fight back from the first. If we had been ready to fight back, it needn''t have been a calamity.
Chapter One
307 DRA It had been a long hunt, even by draconic reckoning, and Valthurian Goldenflame''s hunts often lasted days or weeks more than those of his more impatient kin. Though if truth be told, less of the delay was due to his quarry¡¯s skill at hiding or evading him and more due to his distraction with a certain lovely green drakaia who happened to be in the area. He¡¯d courted her many times over the decades, with varying results. He spent entire days in the sky, chasing and diving, flaming when the opportunity called for it. He always enjoyed the look of it when his flame and hers entwined, his flickering gold-red meeting her petite stream of blue in a rage of colour and power. Each deadly, each beautiful, but more than doubly so when combined. But now the drakaia had left, back to her own hunt, and he returned to his with renewed vigor. This prey, this particular one, he wanted very much. She was young, tender, plump with youth and not yet toughened with sun and age. Not like the second, who stalked about waving her stick and shouting threats when she sensed his presence. That one would not be good eating, for all that she was as soaked in power as her young charge. The elder left each day, roaming the lands to do whatever it was the humans did, while the young one stood alone in the fields and called upon her power. He found it tedious to watch, as he counted the hours between departure and return. At least each day she spent at such work, painting fragile shields in the air before her or her weak imitation of dragonfire, saturated her tender meat more fully with the power she wielded so inexpertly. With such a meal he might sleep for months without his heartfire so much as flickering, and rise to hunt again still strong from it. Valthurian would not be letting this one escape him. The routine varied only in the hours of the elder¡¯s departure and which spell the young prey chose to fumble through. He spent several days following the elder, to see whether she was setting a trap for him, but she seemed oblivious except when his shadow passed over her or he flew low enough for her to feel his own power resonating off her own. Then she would fire her own spells, rave at the sky, and hurry home to her hatchling. He let her see him fly away, past and into the hills beyond their valley, and then did not return at once. When he did return, he flew high on a cloudy night and settled back into his perch atop the cliffs. He lay quiet and waited; he watched as the elder departed; he waited as his meal began her useless rituals. Human power could only rarely stand up to draconic fire, and nothing he¡¯d seen from her gave the slightest indication that hers would be the exception. He glided down from the clifftop, circling behind her as the sun shone from above. His wings shook the air as he turned his glide into a dive, his breath waited hot in his chest, and yet she carried on oblivious to his swift flight. He snatched her up in both foreclaws, slicing through her scream before it could begin, fire blazing ahead of him in exultant victory. His prey convulsed briefly before falling still. Valthurian Goldenflame was an expert hunter, and for all their innovations and pretense at civilization, humans were still soft and unscaled. If they did not breed so quickly, they might have been hunted to extinction, being both so delicious and such easy hunting. But, then, some of them did sting. This meal was not quite four bites worth, but he took his time, flying lazy circles above the empty and scorched dwelling as he ate. He¡¯d been right, it was worth the long wait and the careful hunt. So young and suculent, so dense with power, the ideal prey. He was so lost in the bliss of a perfect meal that he did not notice the elder approaching until her power-fed flame bounced off his underbelly. ¡°Curse you!¡± she screeched, pointing her stick at him again. ¡°Curse, twice curse, thrice curse! You vile beast, you have taken from me everything I love!¡± Valthurian roared in return, bellowing forth a gout of flame which washed over her power-bubble shield without harming her, and tossed the last bite into his maw as he flew away. ¡°I curse you, dragon!¡± she shrieked, though her voice grew faint with distance. ¡°As you have killed what I love, so may you be killed by yours! When next you touch that which you love most, may that touch be your death!¡± He shivered from neck-spine to tailtip, the curse washing over him in a wave of power he could not dissipate. For all his strength, that gift had never been his. This human had a sting after all. He thought longingly for a moment of his lovely green, she whose name he could never recall, but whose scales and fire he would never forget. But human curses could only last a few centuries past their death, perhaps make it twenty for good measure. He could abstain that long. Besides, he had his treasure and his lair. With the fortification of his current power-drenched meal, he could probably sleep longer than the human¡¯s remaining lifespan even if she did supplement it with power. Yes. He could wait. He didn¡¯t need another¡¯s touch, not like humans did. Foolish creature, thinking him anything like itself. He was still laughing as he dove from his high window, tucking his wings against his sides as he splashed into his immense hoard grinning as he felt the warm brush of gold against his scales. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Who needed the touch of even the most beautiful drakaia when one had such treasure? He lay beneath his pile, sleep suddenly an undeniable imperative. He must have flown harder than he realized, to be so tired so soon. He felt about for the goldforged crystal buried deep within his hoard and curled one clawed hand about it. Truly, what dragon could love anything so much as he loved gold? He drifted into sleep, breath slowing. The clatter of coins gradually ceased. And then, all was still.
497 AU (1093 years later.) Valthurian Goldenflame snapped awake, vision expanding to fill his dust-filled lair. He saw his empty trove, his dry skeleton lying strewn across his cavern, every tunnel in all its twists and turns, the footprints in the dirt, the warning carved upon his lintel. He saw everything and understood it intimately, down to the cracks in the rock and the quiet vibration which had awoken him. Tink tink, tink, tink tink tink. A human stood by his claw, trying to chip away his finger-bones to get at his crystal. The last treasure remaining to him. Valthurian roared, soundlessly, and the mountain trembled. The human fled, echoes of his footsteps fading quickly amid the dust and ruin. The crystal flared up with heat and light, then subsided as his rage fled. Confusion followed on its heels. He could not look, could not move. He saw, and understood, but nothing more. He roared once more, experimentally, watching closely as the crystal glowed and the cavern trembled. Rocks from the ceiling in one of the further tunnels dislodged, collapsing in a rain of dust and tumbled stone. He was dead? He spent a long time contemplating what remained of his body, which had been picked-over so thoroughly that only the barest skeleton remained. His scales were gone, his spines and horns taken, his tail missing entirely. His other claws were missing, only the one hand clasped around the crystal remained untouched. In fact, it looked almost as though his bones and claws had fused onto the crystal, making the whole thing too heavy and unwieldy for humans to remove. Well, that he could be thankful for at least. But what was he? He couldn¡¯t be a ghost. Dragon spirits did not linger on, however vengeful they may feel. That was the privilege of lesser beings. Valthurian Goldenflame Alphit: 0 [OVAN''RT] Batyu: 0 [OVAN''RT] Ho''warab: 0 [OVAN''RT] Odet''iyea: 3 Elakkahp: 1 Ho''urek: 1 Gomeekae: 3 Sevaho: 5 Jasisev: 4 Azripo''ah: 5 Deerenn: 2 Zeyovf: 1 Enteta: 1 The sheet appeared in his mind, along with a certainty that this represented himself. But though he understood at once that the system message (system message?) was a perfect representation of his own stats (stats?!), he did not understand the words. Whatever concepts they represented, he could not translate. Except the last. He knew that meant he could increase one of the unknown words. Make himself stronger, more. . . whatever the words represented. Valthurian''s confusion only increased. This was like nothing he¡¯d ever seen, nothing he¡¯d ever experienced, nothing he¡¯d ever heard of or imagined. He dismissed the message without quite knowing how. He needed at least a little more time to consider before he started assigning finite levelup points (levelup? What?) to unknown attributes. He closed his mind, though he could not close his vision, and meditated. It was the closest he could come now to sleep. Hunger tickled at his soul. He needed. He was without. He lacked. Exactly what he lacked, he could not quite bring to mind, but he felt that yearning emptiness within himself, the absence of something he knew meant as much to him as life. Gradually, he began to recall that feeling. From his birth. As a hatchling. Before he had his own hoard. He needed gold. He needed gold, and there was gold to be found. He felt it, saw it, understood it. Beneath his cavern, buried too deep for any dragon claws to reach, the reason he¡¯d first felt so comfortable here though he never knew it until now. He reached for it, and he found it, and he consumed it. Two hundred and seventy of it. (??) He felt it within himself, and relaxed from the tension that had run through him since awakening. More would be better, but this would last him for now. The stone beneath him shifted slightly, and he encouraged it to press together and fill in the spaces left by his removal. This was his mountain, and he didn¡¯t want it to fall apart. While he was at it, he shored up the collapsed tunnel section, smoothing its ceiling and compressing its floor. Valthurian spent several weeks in quiet meditation, slowly reinforcing and repairing his tunnels, trying to come to an understanding about his current state. But it made no sense, however he considered it, so eventually he gave up on comprehension and instead accepted it as fact. He was not alive, but he was also not dead. He could see his mountain - or most of it, at least. Its peak lay beyond his reach. He could not move. He could move stone, with increasing precision. He could consume gold, and would slowly burn through his stored hoard at a rate of 1 per day. (What these arbitrary units of measure were, he couldn¡¯t guess.) He could survive without it for at least a few hours, but he didn¡¯t want to test what happened if he let it run out and stay out for long. He needed to find more gold, but he could not do so without moving. He¡¯d claimed everything within his reach. He could not move. Therefore, he needed someone else to bring gold to him. He smoothed out the lintel¡¯s warning, erasing it from the stone, and wrote something new there. Slowly, painstakingly, he scrawled a brief fable after the human fashion in the language of their scribes. Bring gold as an offering to the glowing gem, and your wishes will be granted. It took him nearly three days, but he managed it. Then he smoothed out the sunward-facing mountainside and wrote in giant skyletters for any dragon who might fly nearby. Trapped. Need gold. Bring news. Urgent. That went much faster, as skyletters were large and required far less precision. Done, he settled back to wait and contemplate. He fixed up his window, widening it, decorating its edges. He smoothed out the hollow where his bones rested, and in so doing discovered that he could consume his bones as well as gold. He did so, one at first, carefully. It didn¡¯t go to the same place within him, material in a separate place which he could not use to live on, but could use to. . . something else. He watched the glow pulse in the gem with each bone he absorbed, saw how it pulsed with ivory light, and varied his consumption. The gem always matched him. He flared his inner fire to rage, and the gem glowed violent orange, flames licking from its surface. It stilled when he calmed. The gem was him. His soul lay within it. He made a hollow in the center of the cavern, then absorbed the last bones clutching his soul core. It fell to the stone with a clink, then rolled gently down the slope. His view shifted, just a little, the edges of his understanding sliding a few feet to the west. The gem pulsed with rapid flame as brief panic ignited his soul. Then he pushed the gem into the stone, moved the mountain to cover it, and lay quiet and still. The cavern lay empty, and that meant no one could offer him gold. He needed some sort of idol, or statue, or fountain. Humans loved decorations. He laughed at the realization that his survival would rely on trading with humans, unless one of his kin should happen to fly overhead and see his message. But he was safe, now. He had time. He shaped his bones into one form after another, never quite satisfied. He needed something grand, but not too intimidating. It needed to look like something the humans would sacrifice gold to - and who knew what that would be like? But finally he settled on his own face, as it once had been. He shaped the bone-material into a statue of his majestic head, then mounted it on a stone pillar directly atop where his soul-core lay hidden. He changed the message, replacing ¡®glowing gem¡¯ with ¡®dragon¡¯s head¡¯, and settled in to wait.
3: First Contact The day the stars changed is only rarely mentioned in the histories of the calamities. I remember it clearly, the uncertainty and confusion. The guiding stars missing, foreign constellations replacing our own familiar ones. The sun itself rising a little differently, the seas turbulent and weather unpredictable. Of course, at the time, we were occupied with other matters. But now, looking back, it is still generally dismissed as merely another side effect of the Calamity of Advent. Yet I cannot help but wonder: what if it is the other way around?
Chapter Two
Valthurian didn¡¯t need to wait as long as he¡¯d expected. Within a few days, that human returned. The one with the pickaxe, who¡¯d been trying to steal him away from his lair. For a moment, he wondered if it might be better to allow it. The human would surely carry him away to a city, where he could pass many other humans and take their gold. But he couldn¡¯t be sure his influence would work anywhere away from his mountain. And he was loath to entrust any part of his fate to humanity that he didn¡¯t have to. He formed a bowl in the pillar, shifted the window so a single shaft of light would illuminate his beautiful statue, and waited. The human approached slowly, cautiously. Valthurian barely resisted the desire to consume all the gold the man carried, but he wanted to try this fairly first. If he could establish a relationship with the humans rather than scaring them off, this could work. Besides, if it went badly, he could easily snatch the gold long before the slow creature escaped his mountain. He still didn¡¯t have a plan for how to pretend he had granted a human wish. It seemed the sort of thing their legends loved, but all he had to use was stone, a few bones, and whatever trace metals he could scavenge from the mountain beneath him. The human stopped short when he reached the cavern entrance, staring in awe. ¡°It¡¯s changed! It really has.¡± He scurried forward, then hesitated, then advanced again. He looked into the bowl, then frowned up at the dragon head. Valthurian wished he¡¯d thought to put instructions on the pillar. Maybe this was too confusing for a human. ¡°Is it true this place can grant wishes now?¡± the human whispered, as though afraid of being overheard. Yes. Valthurian needed to write the word. It took long minutes, but though the human jumped as the first stone shifted, it stared in rapt awe through the entire process. Valthurian smiled inwardly. It was working! ¡°Then I wish for the power to reach max level and show Alissa how worthy I am!¡± Valthurian sighed. First, that was a stupid and senseless wish, and second he hadn¡¯t even offered any gold. Gold first. The human jumped, stared, then nodded. ¡°Of course, wishing dragon. I¡¯m sorry.¡± He placed a single small gold coin in the bowl, then grinned eagerly up at the statue. The gold dissolved, granting Valthurian only a single day¡¯s worth of sustenance. He couldn¡¯t quite bring to mind how to spell out ¡®This is insufficient to grant such a huge wish,¡¯ and instead settled for MORE. ¡°More? But I¡¯m just a cab driver, I don¡¯t make enough to afford even this.¡± Hah! Then what are you doing exploring dragon caves? You were in here before, when it still said it was cursed! You¡¯re either a fool, a liar, or both. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. But he didn¡¯t say any of that. Instead, he just made the word MORE a little bit bigger, a little bit bolder. ¡°Fine, stingy wishing dragon.¡± Stingy human, more like. As the human slowly counted out one coin at a time, looking up for approval between each, before reluctantly adding another, Valthurian contemplated his current conundrum. What could he create that could, theoretically, count as granting this stupid wish? Armor perhaps. Humans liked to pretend they had scales. But made of stone? Not likely. It would crumble and shatter far too easily. Maybe he should just kill the human, take the gold, and have done with it. He quietly closed off the entrance hall, just in case. No reason not to trap the fool here for the moment. He withdrew the writing, absorbed the gold - eight days worth now, nearly all the human had brought - and shifted the pillar back to leave an open space. The human backed away, fearful and eager in equal measure. To advance your level you must perform great deeds. I cannot do them for you. But I can give you this. It took nearly an hour to write out. During which the human lost his fear, and then his eagerness, and then his patience. But the entrance was sealed, which caused the human¡¯s fear to increase when he noticed, then resignation followed, and then he sat quietly muttering to himself while waiting for the words to appear. The item itself was easier. Gold wasn¡¯t the only metal beneath his mountain, and Valthurian had seen enough treasure in his uncounted centuries to know what humans liked. So he crafted a sword, dragon bone for the handle and core, curved and sharp iron with bronze inlays. He created it in a compartment beneath the floor, adjusting it between letters, until it was perfect. It used most of his iron and all of his bronze, but he hoped that if the human was pleased he would return with others. As the last letter formed, he pushed the compartment upward and parted the stone above it, so the finished blade shone in the evening sunlight. The human gasped, then ran forward and seized the sword. He read the message, then nodded and bowed. ¡°Thank you, wishing dragon! I will prove myself!¡± Valthurian unsealed the exit, and the human ran off. Well, that was eventful. Now to see if anything came of it.
Valthurian Goldenflame had in the past month received two more ¡®levelup¡¯ points which he could assign to any of the gibberish words which defined him, though he had yet to use any. He spent some time meditating on each of the words, but whatever meaning they held eluded him. He remained convinced that the final word indicated these points. He spent more time studying the deep workings of his mountain, and discovered ways to shift the mineral composition to extract the smallest hints of metal. This occupied him for weeks, during which he only infrequently remembered that he¡¯d set himself up as a wish-granter and given a sword to a human in return for eight days of gold. He collected together his iron, found more bronze, rooted out quartz crystals which lay hidden far below. He sorted shale and granite and obsidian, ornamenting his lair with an array of minerals to please his aesthetic sensibilities. And he waited. He had sent a message to the humans. He had laid out a message for his fellow dragons. Until one or the other of them replied, there was little he could do. He practiced shifting minerals from one form to another, but there was only so much he could do. He could not create gold from shale, and gold was the only thing that interested him. Valthurian was patient, but he also knew that he lived on a countdown. Every day, another unit of precious gold was consumed. If he ran out before his messages were received, he would be lost. The human didn¡¯t return. Dragons did not suddenly begin flying overhead. But someone else did arrive. Twenty-three days after the human¡¯s visit, another creature slipped silently into Valthurian¡¯s tunnels. He noticed it at once. There was no stealth that could evade him, he felt his mountain as fully and intimately as his own scales and claws. He had even begun to gradually shape the walls into patterns like scales, both because it was more beautiful and because it gave him something to do. So when the kobold entered his tunnels, Valthurian immediately gave the creature his full attention. First, he closed the entrance behind it as soon as it was out of sight. Then, using the reshaping skills he¡¯d spent the past month practicing, he quickly wrote out a message in his central chamber. I need gold. If you can help me obtain it, I will reward you greatly. The kobold didn¡¯t even look at the writing, but walked to the center of the chamber, then knelt and pressed his head and tail to the floor in obeisance. ¡°Great sleeping one, this servant has been sent to you by the Regal Jade Mystery, Alasarnim Glimmerscale. What desires can this servant answer?¡± Valthurian hastily erased the earlier message, then contemplated his new servant. Kobolds and dragons had worked together for centuries, with kobolds also serving as tasty snacks if they got out of line. This particular specimin was male, wearing a crude set of armor with a green streak painted down the center of the chestplate. The kobold couldn''t be more than a few years old, barely adult. But Valthurian didn''t fault Alasarnim for the choice. Messengers did tend to be eaten more regularly than others, after all. He would have preferred an army, or at least some gold, but this was a start. Now he just needed to decide on the best way to turn a single kobold into a system for obtaining gold.
4: Voice of Stone Why is it that humanity, when it finds a new power, immediately subverts it to darkness? The uprising might never have been necessary if our first adapters had been able to understand that the power of the Words should be used for the benefit of all, rather than as a tool for selfish gain. If we could''ve united instead of fighting among ourselves, how much sooner would the Advent have been fought back? In fact, I would go a step further. What if we had not been so fast to assume enmity? What might we have learned?
Chapter Three
Valthurian had a few options with regards to his new kobold. He quickly discarded the idea of sending him to initiate communication with the humans - they were greedy and useless as allies. They may become necessary later, but as nothing had come from his one interaction with the human thief despite his best efforts, he didn¡¯t consider them a great option. He likewise found no value in keeping the kobold to wait in his inner chambers and converse with visitors on his behalf. He had few enough visitors, that would be a waste of potential resources. He idly considered whether he could utilize the kobold itself as organic material to create something worthwhile, but at present his ability to shape reality extended only to stone and minerals. Even the grass growing on the outside of his mountain was safe from his tampering. He wasn¡¯t sure if such power might become available to him later, or if he would be forever stuck with only mineral manipulation, but either way it didn¡¯t help his current predicament. That left the question of whether to send the kobold to negotiate with the other dragons, or use him as a scout and learn more about the immediate surrounds of Valthurian¡¯s mountain. He couldn¡¯t decide. Either could be valuable. How far is the nearest dragon? he wrote out beside the kobold, nudging it with a bump of stone when it didn¡¯t seem to notice the words. It turned to the text, then shook its head. ¡°This servant does not know this script, great sleeping one.¡± Great. So that rendered the question of where to send the creature moot. He had no way of communicating with it. Well, that wasn¡¯t technically true. He could use pictures carved into the wall. There was something humiliating about trying to communicate with a kobold by drawing pictures. Valthurian decided then and there that he would not be using pictures. They could be easily misunderstood, for one thing, and they¡¯d be extremely time-consuming. There had to be another way. Could he create an artificial voice somehow? He really should have thought of this sooner, but he¡¯d been a bit distracted. He left the kobold kneeling in his central room and moved his focus down far beneath. A moment¡¯s concentration carved a testing chamber from the stone, shifting and compressing the rest of the mountain to make room. It would not be an easy task, but he was confident he could make it work. By grinding one stone against another, he could create sound. By shaping that sound through various shaped stones, he could modulate it into a rough approximation of voice. It took longer than he''d expected. The kobold eventually tried to leave, which Valthurian did not permit, until it spoke. "This servant will return but needs to eat." Oh. That was fine, then. He opened the front door and returned his attention to the voice experiment. Unfortunately, bouncing sound around was not as effective as he''d hoped. He needed wind. Well, that was possible too. He shifted the room into a circle, separated the walls, mounted it to move on tracks, and carved his psuedo-voice into a wall. That allowed him to create a sustained tone, accompanied by the grinding sound of stone on stone, but it was progress. Turning that tone into words took days. He remained focused on his goal, but kept track of the kobold. It came in and out several times, remaining prostrate in his central room when not off hunting, except when it moved to an outer chamber to sleep. It made no attempts to escape, and Valthurian found himself grudgingly impressed with the creature. Despite having no sign from Valthurian for days on end, it remained devoted to its assigned task. Perhaps it would prove more valuable than he''d dared to hope. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Each morning when it returned to the central chamber, it said, "Great sleeping one, this servant is ready to obey," and each morning Valthurian continued to work on his experiment far beneath. At last, he was ready. He recreated his speaking-wheel contraption in a rotating disc form behind the wall of his main chamber, placing a large stone dragon head on the wall in front of it, with a carefully formed funnel to direct his words out into the chamber. It was a bit crude, a bit imprecise, and required his active concentration to reshape the stone constantly in order to create words, but it would do. He could practice and improve his technique after he set his new minion to its task. He also removed the pedestal he''d created before and flattened out the floor, so that the dragon head with its new voice became the primary focus of the room. He did create a shallow bowl in front of the head for donations of gold, but no longer needed signs or writings. "Do you know me, kobold?" Valthurian''s voice grated out in a somewhat slurred echo, with the grinding of stone an integral part of its tone, but the words were words and that was good enough for today. "Yes, great sleeping one! This servant is sent to you. What do you desire?" "My name is Valthurian Goldenscale, not great sleeping one. I am awake and I need to know what has become of the land around my mountain. There are humans, but how close? Are there others nearby? How far are the dragons? Who is Alasarnim Glimmerscale?" He stopped before he could overwhelm the creature. It felt so good to finally give voice to his questions, but he did not need to answer them all right away. "And, most important, where can I get gold?" "The lands around your mountain are contested land, Great Awakened One, Valthurian Goldenflame. Humans have built their city two days to the northwest, and orkin live in the forest to the south. Both have tried to claim this mountain, but your warnings have driven them away until now." Warnings? Yes, there had been warnings, hadn''t there. Who had put those up, anyway? Well, nevermind. That was less important at the moment. The kobold was still talking. "The dragons are spread across the land as they ever have been. The Eight still claim their divisions of the world, but Alasarnim Glimmerscale the Regal Jade Mystery has dominion over the land surrounding your mountain. She felt you awaken and saw your words, and sent this servant to you." "The Eight?" Valthurian demanded. "Yes, Great Awakened One, Valthurian Goldenflame. The Eight, of which you are the ninth. The dragons who have ruled the world since the calamities." "There are more than eight dragons," Valthurian growled, "and none of them would submit to another''s rule." "Yes, there are nine." "No," Valthurian growled, his voice grating as he spun the disk more forcefully. "There are more than nine. There are countless. We are not so few. We cannot be." "This servant is sorry for his ignorance, Great Awakened One, Valthurian--" "Just call me Lord Goldenflame," Valthurian interrupted. "You waste time." "As you say, Lord Goldenflame." "Who is Alasarnim Glimmerscale?" "The Regal Jade Mystery rules this part of the world, and seeks peace with you, Lord Goldenflame. She does not wish to fight you for dominance of this area, and hopes that you can be content to live within her realm." "I do not live within any realm but my own," Valthurian roared. "As you say, Lord Goldenflame. This servant can convey your words to the Regal Jade Mystery, Alasarnim Glimmerscale." "Not yet. You''ll leave when I give the order and not before." "As you say, Lord Goldenflame." Valthurian let the disc slow to a stop as he considered his next move. He dwelt within territory claimed by one of only eight remaining dragons. How long had he been sleeping? How long had it taken his soul to coalesce into a gemstone? His status popped up as he thought this, and he vaguely noticed that his potential number had increased. If it said his age anywhere in the jumble of foreign words and numbers, he didn''t know where. "How long have there been only eight dragons? This cannot have happened quietly. There are hundreds of us. Thousands, perhaps! Far more than a mere handful." The kobold shifted slightly, his body tensing just a tiny bit. "Lord Goldenflame, this servant must ask ... were you alive before the calamities?" "What calamities?" The kobold did not answer for a very long time. "The Calamities, Lord Goldenflame. They are not things which can be forgotten. It has been a hundred generations and this servant still hears of them." "What are they?" "The First Calamity, the Calamity of Words, changed the way ejrana works forever by locking it into the Status System. Then, before we could learn how to use the Status System, the Calamity of Advent occurred, and the world was enslaved by people from beyond the stars. Then ..." the kobold''s voice dropped away to nothing. "THEN?!" Valthurian demanded. "The final calamity, the Calamity of Distortion. It changed the peoples of the world from their old forms to our new. This servant does not know the differences, but the kobolds of before were entirely disconnected from ejrana, yet now this servant could merely spend five levelup points and unlock it to use forever." "Ejrana?" "Yes, Lord Goldenflame. This servant would be very poor at using it without putting a great many further points into its associated stats, but it could be done if you commanded. This servant does not have any levels unused at this time but if you command--" "But what is Ejrana?" "It is ... ejrana. People can do things with it.¡± The kobold waved its arms in what was clearly meant to be a demonstration, which failed to convey anything but flailing arms. ¡°Give a specific example.¡± ¡°Cars run on ejrana,¡± the kobold said. ¡°And fire swords.¡± Valthurian had no idea what a car could be, but he did understand ¡®fire¡¯ and ¡®sword¡¯, though not how they could be combined. Usually, fire melted swords, or at least made their wielders yelp and drop the overheated weapon. Very satisfying interaction, fire plus sword. He began to think that understanding the world would be harder than he¡¯d assumed.
5: Things Have Changed The first generation did not understand the words. But the second, those who grew up with them, began to make connections and see patterns in their lines of incomprehensible characters. It was the second generation who translated them, the second generation who taught themselves the true nature of the calamities. It was the second generation who led the uprising.
Chapter Four
¡°What does ejrana look like?¡± ¡°Like water but made of fire.¡± The kobold shook his head. ¡°No, that is wrong too. It¡¯s not wet or hot.¡± ¡°Where does it come from?¡± ¡°Everything that lives can learn to channel it with enough enteta. It doesn¡¯t come from or go to anywhere, it only changes.¡± ¡°How is it used?¡± ¡°This servant does not know. If Lord Goldenflame commands, this servant can begin to unlock the use of ejrana, but it will be fifteen more levels before that will be possible.¡± ¡°What are levels, how many do you have, where do they come from?¡± ¡°Levels are how power is ranked and improved. This servant has seven levels. They come from acting, living, and using stats.¡± ¡°What is the System? Why is it in my mind?¡± ¡°It is in everyone, Lord Goldenflame. Since the Calamities, no one has been born without it.¡± ¡°But what is it?¡± ¡°A measure of reality and potential. This servant is not a very ho¡¯wareb kobold, but has put several levels into alphit and batyu.¡± He appeared very proud of this nonsensical statement. ¡°What are alphit and batyu?¡± ¡°Alphit is ¡­ alphit. This servant does not know how to describe it.¡± He thumped himself on the chest. ¡°This servant is more alphit than most. Batyu is how much can be moved, and to better damage enemies.¡± He made a few punches into the air in demonstration. Valthurian¡¯s alphit, batyu, and ho¡¯wareb were all zero. The kobold finished his clumsy combat dance, and bowed apologetically toward Valthurian¡¯s dragon-head statue. ¡°This servant cannot think of the words, Lord Goldenflame.¡± Valthurian mentally sighed, but didn¡¯t put in the effort to convey that in sound. It was becoming easier to shape his ¡®voice¡¯ but it was still a complicated process that required attention. He would not waste it on something so meaningless as a sigh. ¡°What about the other things on the stat sheet? Azripo¡¯ah? Sevaho? What are they.¡± ¡°This servant is not very azripo¡¯ah, Lord Goldenflame, if you desire something stolen you should find a different servant.¡± All this talk of nonsense words was making Valthurian¡¯s gemstone-self twitch with irritation. The kobold clearly didn¡¯t know much about it anyway, or he would have been able to use synonyms that Valthurian could understand. ¡°Forget the nonsense words. Tell me what has happened in my absence. How is it that so few dragons remain? I refuse to believe that these ¡®calamities¡¯ could have been enough to bring low so mighty a race as ours.¡± ¡°This servant does not know much of history, Lord Goldenflame, only what is commonly taught. If there were ever more dragons than the Eight - Nine now that you have awakened - this servant has never heard the story.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. This time Valthurian did take the effort of voicing his displeasure, a rumbling stony growl that shook the room. ¡°Then tell me what history you do know.¡± The kobold bowed deeply, and began to speak. The history he knew, it turned out, was very dull and incredibly localized. He told of his tribe, scions of the Molten Rifts, some underground volcanic area which Valthurian had no knowledge of or interest in. But though if he¡¯d had his body he would surely have devoured this ignorant messenger by now, to do so now would require more effort than the creature was worth. The kobold described the terrain around the Molten Rifts, described the mighty diamond lair belonging to Regal Jade Mystery, Alasarnim Glimmerscale, went on at great length about how perfect in every way this dragon was, but eventually got around to something of more interest. The orkin hid in their forests as they always had. They had grown more numerous in the years Valthurian had been sleeping, but still remained a scattered collection of small communities. The human city was another story. It lay a bit to the north of Valthurian¡¯s mountain, a ten-minute flight or so, but two day¡¯s hard run to the kobold. The humans had grown so numerous they sprawled their cities across the grasslands, tearing up earth to make ever-taller mounds to live in. Valthurian scoffed inwardly as the kobold spoke in awe of the ¡®towers reaching the heavens¡¯. Humans never had gotten over the fact that they weren¡¯t dragons and never could be. Stupid humans. ¡°How is it Alasarnim Glimmerscale tolerates this invasive human presence?¡± Valthurian demanded. Without enough dragons around to keep their population down, it seemed they¡¯d become a blight upon the land. The kobold appeared confused. ¡°Tolerate, Lord Goldenflame?¡± ¡°Even if this Regal Jade Mystery can¡¯t eat her way through them fast enough, surely she could just burn their nest to the ground?¡± The kobold¡¯s face twisted in what Valthurian could only interpret as¡­ horror? ¡°Lord Goldenflame,¡± he choked out, ¡°this servant is sorry, but did you suggest that the Regal Jade Mystery, Alasarnim Glimmerscale, would ever betray the Pact and¡­¡± he shuddered and his voice dropped uneasily, ¡°eat a fellow person?¡± Valthurian¡¯s voice wheel ground to an abrupt halt, sending an echoing shriek out into the halls. The kobold dove to the ground, prostrating itself. ¡°Apologies, Lord Goldenflame,¡± it said in a rush, ¡°this servant did not mean to imply that you would ever speak so ill of another dragon, this servant accepts whatever punishment you may¡ª¡° ¡°SHUT UP.¡± Valthurian¡¯s control of his voice-wheel contraption was shaky, the roar more snarl than words, but the kobold clearly caught the intention because it fell still and quiet, trembling face down on the stone floor. Valthurian¡¯s gem-soul flared with crimson light, fury heating the stone around him and melting his gem a little deeper into the mountain stone. ¡®Fellow person¡¯? A dragon, giving humans the same consideration as they would each other or the ascended aelfir? Weakness. If this was the kind of creature that dragons had become, then it was no wonder only eight of them survived. No, more, it was a wonder even eight had survived. Humans were no threat individually, could be reasoned with, tricked, or consumed depending on the situation. But get a big enough pack of them together and they would nip at your heels with their accursed spells, some of which lesser dragons actually succumbed to. If the dragons had let humans grow this numerous? No wonder they were on the brink of extinction. But though Valthurian¡¯s wrath was quickly kindled, so too it faded in turn. He was old, strong, and above all else, patient. The humans would be dealt with in time. Right now, ensuring his own survival was more important. When he spun his voice-wheel into motion, his manufactured voice carried no indication of his recent wrath. ¡°You say the dragons rule the world yet? Despite this pact of equality?¡± ¡°Yes, mighty Lord Goldenflame," the kobold said, sounding proud of the fact. "Dragons have always ruled, since the day we were first formed from the Molten Rifts." Valthurian refused to get bogged down in a discussion of kobold religion. Silence filled the chamber. He tried to think what he could ask that the ignorant creature would be able to answer, but before he could decide he sensed a flicker of movement on the slopes of the mountain. ¡°Go and see who is coming,¡± Valthurian commanded. ¡°Don¡¯t be seen.¡± The kobold squeaked in confirmation, jumping to his feet and racing down the maze toward the entrance. Valthurian¡¯s vision was entirely restricted to the mountain in a sphere around his soulstone. He could feel the faint tremors within the earth, but until whoever it was climbed higher they would remain outside of his range. He waited patiently, tracking the progress of the approaching creatures. Three of them, if his read on the vibrations was correct. And¡­ he sensed something. Faintly. Familiar. He couldn¡¯t quite discern it, but they grew ever nearer. Then the kobold came rushing back, beginning to speak even as he bowed to Valthurian¡¯s stone similitude. ¡°Three humans, Lord Goldenflame. They appear to be adventurers.¡± The kobold swallowed uneasily, voice dropping. ¡°One of them has a sword with dragonbone.¡± Valthurian felt a growing sense of anticipation and satisfaction. Finally! His wishing-dragon ploy was beginning to come to fruition. As much as he may prefer to eat the humans for their arrogance, right now he¡¯d take anything that could expand his ability to obtain the precious gold he now required to survive. ¡°Find a safe cavern to hide in. Don¡¯t come out until I call.¡± The kobold bowed and scampered away. Valthurian¡¯s gem gleamed a smug amber, as three well-equipped - and wealthy - adventurers stepped into his range.