《Fist of the Starspawn Dragon》 What the Dragons Found Below the Ice Waru Kingsfield stood in the jaws of Antarctica¡¯s subzero wind, naked but for his boxers. Only the qi that he drew from the ice and rock and air and light kept him from freezing to death, its warmth flowing through his flesh. He had a dark rugged face and curly black hair. He was thickly muscled. In his veins flowed English, Japanese, and Wiradjuri blood. His father Yarran, also naked down to his boxers, held a Mossberg 590 tactical shotgun at his side as casually as a golf club. Yarran was jacked as a bull kangaroo¡ªand utterly relaxed in this freezing hell. Yarran¡¯s voice was deep. ¡°Your breathing is good. Your posture is excellent. But I sense your qi flowing weaker than usual.¡± The cold pressed against Waru¡¯s shell of warmth, trying to crush it. Waru¡¯s chattering teeth muffled the sounds of the dig-site a quarter-mile away: the clang of picks, the burble of voices, the shrieks of drills. World-changing things were happening at the dig-site. It was a big day for Waru and Yarran¡¯s clan¡ªa big day for the Dragons¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t think about that right now. ¡°There¡¯s no life here,¡± said Waru through clacking teeth. ¡°If there were trees, grass, something, my qi would be stronger.¡± Yarran gave a sad shake of the head. ¡°Almost twenty years old and still making excuses? Qi lives in everything, my son. Anyone can draw from this land if they have the will.¡± Waru¡¯s patience was fraying. ¡°Just do it.¡± Yarran grinned. ¡°Very well.¡± He pumped his shotgun, aimed. Waru tightened his stomach, focusing qi where he expected the buckshot to land. When the impact came, a split-second before the thunderclap, Waru left the ground as if plucked by a giant hand. He didn¡¯t feel the buckshot until he was finished tumbling across the ice. The impact stung¡ªbut it stung less than the twenty-four other times his father had shot him that day. Yarran helped him up, brushing the ice and lead spall off his body. ¡°How was the pain that time?¡± ¡°Six.¡± ¡°Better! See? Practice. Practice is everything.¡± Yarran flipped the shotgun so the muzzle faced his chin¡ªand fired. The explosion snapped Yarran¡¯s head back. Instead of obliterating his skull, the blast just powdered his face with soot. He ruffled tiny fragments of lead from his graying hair. ¡°Holy shit!¡± Waru blurted. ¡°Didn¡¯t even sting.¡± ¡°Qi doesn¡¯t make us invincible, Dad. Why take stupid risks?¡± Yarran lifted a finger. ¡°Calculated risks always look stupid to a novice. Now, let¡¯s get back to practicing. Take your battle stance.¡± ¡°What? Fighting? I¡¯m tired. We¡¯ve been training out here all day!¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been testing your resilience.¡± Yarran tossed the shotgun aside. ¡°Now we test your technique.¡± ¡°Fuck that!¡± ¡°You know I hate it when you curse, Waru.¡± Yarran swung his foot at Waru¡¯s face. Waru¡¯s reflexes kicked in too late, the cold slowing him down. The foot cracked his jaw like a mace. Waru went ragdolling. When he got up, his head was a furnace of pain. He wiped blood off his lips. Anger flashburned away his fatigue. He went into his fighting stance, shifting his body sideways, then lifting one hand above his head and lowering the other to his waist, concentrating qi in his arms. A rumble of exclamations rose from the dig-site, cracking his focus. ¡°Uh, Dad, did you hear that? I think they found something!¡± Yarran¡¯s tone of fatherly kindness grew stern. ¡°It can wait, boy. Dragons never lose focus in battle. Never. If the world is ever threatened, we must be ready to protect it with our full concentration. Do you hear me, boy? We¡¯re Dragons.¡± ¡°We¡¯re Dragons,¡± echoed Waru. We¡¯re the shadowed guardians of humankind, his memory recited. He¡¯d studied the words over and over for his swearing-in ceremony. We¡¯re the unsung protectors of the Earth. We¡¯re the silent defenders of civilization. But if the Dragons were truly humanity¡¯s guardians, Waru had always wondered, why did they keep qi a secret from everyone else?¡± His father always said it was because evildoers would misuse qi, would wreak havoc across the planet. But Waru felt differently. He believed that if everyone on Earth knew qi, humanity could survive any threat. The truth, he thought, was the Dragons didn¡¯t want to share power. The secret order of five hundred and twelve qi warriors liked hoarding their knowledge in the shadows. They didn¡¯t want rivals. Sure, there were the Manticores, the qi warriors who opposed the Dragons and wanted to conquer the world outright, but their numbers had fallen to fewer than a hundred ever since the two groups had warred in the 1980s. Waru¡¯s own grandfather Yarri had killed the Manticores¡¯ leader in single combat, sending a Qi Beam through his heart outside the Moon Shrine in the Southern Outback. With the Manticores in tatters, the Dragons were the last of the nine leagues of qi warriors to hold sway. And the Dragons had no interest in losing their power, whatever excuses Waru¡¯s father, the Head Dragon, gave him. What technique will he start with this time? Whenever Waru thought he¡¯d seen them all, Yarran busted out something new. Despite being the strongest of the Dragons, Yarran was always learning. Yarran moved both hands above his head and down to his waist, and repeated the motion, again and again, moving faster, his clever eyes watching Waru, the rest of his body as still as stone. Up and down, up and down, faster and faster, until the arms blurred together. They cracked the sound barrier and went ever faster, until the speed was such that each arm seemed to split into two separate ones. The Vengeful Squid! Waru had never seen the technique in person, only in the dusty training VHS tapes his mother Suzume had borrowed from the Dragon Archives for his practice. Setting his jaw, Waru crouched into a Cannon Fist stance and launched at Yarran. He dashed so fast, his steps blurred into a single roar. Waru cocked a fist and put most of his qi into it. Yarran¡¯s four hands caught Waru with ease: three caught his punching arm at different points, as if catching an asteroid mid-flight, while the fourth clamped around his throat. Riding Waru¡¯s momentum, Yarran swung him, arm still outstretched, into a tango-twirl, rotating once-twice-thrice before launching Waru back into the air. Waru sailed forty, fifty, sixty feet above ground¡ªhigh enough to glimpse the deep trench fringed with excavators that was the dig-site, the only flaw in that perfect white expanse¡ªbefore plunging earthward. As Waru fell, a leaping Yarran met him halfway down with a kick. All went black. Waru woke to find himself in a smoking crater three feet deep, Yarran standing over him with an outstretched hand and a look of regret. Yarran had two arms again. ¡°That was too much, son. I¡¯m sorry.¡± Yarran hoisted Waru upright. Waru wobbled, groaning. He felt as if a bomb had gone off inside him. ¡°Son? You okay?¡± Yarran steadied Waru. When Yarran¡¯s eyes went to Waru¡¯s stomach, they widened. Waru looked down to find a red bruise the size of a frying pan on his abs. The sight made the pain even worse. He grimaced. ¡°I expected your qi to buffer the hit,¡± said Yarran, scratching his head. ¡°What happened?¡± ¡°I put most of it into the punch,¡± said Waru sheepishly. ¡°Are you crazy? When you face a stronger opponent, no more than thirty percent of your qi should be offensive. You know that.¡± ¡°I thought if I could just land the hit¡ª¡± ¡°Foolishness!¡± Yarran raised a finger. ¡°You¡¯re not a child anymore. You must strategize. How many times¡­? Ah, but you already know what I¡¯m going to say.¡± ¡°A fight is two-thirds mind, one-third body. I know.¡± ¡°Not in your bones, you don¡¯t.¡± Yarran sighed. ¡°You must rein in your emotions. Your impulses. Battles of qi are more like chess games than street brawls. There are so many techniques, so many possible surprises, tactics, turns, counters. When your grandfather fought the Black Manticore, who do you think was stronger? But Yarri Kingsfield had his wits.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. Not enough wits to stop smoking, Waru thought bleakly, but he didn¡¯t say it. ¡°I know.¡± ¡°Yarri knew the great game of qi like no one in history. You¡¯re his grandson. Act like it.¡± Yarran rubbed Waru¡¯s hair. ¡°Yeah. Okay. I¡¯ll try to use my head more,¡± said Waru. Strategize. I¡¯ve got to strategize. In the distance behind Yarran, from a spot near the dig-site, a tiny figure rose high, high into the air; it was a speck, then an ant, then a doll, hurtling toward Waru and Yarran at a mad speed. But when it landed several feet nearby, with a spume of snow, it was just Waru¡¯s mother, Suzume. She was dressed in the Dragon¡¯s formal wear, a black gi with a green dragon on the back, broad-winged, spouting red flames up both sleeves. Her black hair was cinched into a bun. Her fingers were caked in colorful flakes from hours of painting; the greatest artist in the Dragons¡¯ ranks, she¡¯d spent the week illustrating the Dragons¡¯ excavation for posterity. She tossed a pair of identical gis at Waru and Yarran, who dutifully put them on. Smiling, she put her hands on her hips. ¡°How¡¯d my sweetbaby handle Dad¡¯s torture today?¡± ¡°He¡¯s learning plenty,¡± said Yarran, matching her smile. ¡°I give him a hard time, but once he learns to use his head, he¡¯ll be the strongest Dragon in our ranks. His natural command of qi is unmatched. I can feel the Source flowing through him from forty feet away.¡± Suzume¡¯s heart-shaped face glowed with pride. ¡°Sounds like you at that age. Talented, but brainless.¡± Waru smiled. ¡°Is that true, Dad?¡± Yarran frowned. ¡°Not how I remember it.¡± ¡°Anyway, the reason I came¡­.¡± Suzume poked her thumb at the dig-site. ¡°The excavation team¡¯s found something.¡± Waru gasped. ¡°Finally! What is it?¡± ¡°Come see for yourself.¡±
Dozens of excavators ringed the trench, pumping smoke into the crisp blue air. Hundreds of personnel swarmed the site, trudging between prefab houses and equipment shacks and snowtrucks, hauling picks and drills, flashlights and lunchboxes, phones and thermoses. A helicopter sat a hundred feet beyond the site, like a lazy black dragonfly. The trench was several hundred feet in diameter, descending into the cold earth in stepped terraces, like Waru had seen in Queensland¡¯s open-pit mines as a kid. In the trench¡¯s base was a black pit, about thirty feet wide and surrounded by excited crewmen. Suzume held a gray brick with a screen in the center: a qi reader. A bright blue circle blinked on the screen. ¡°My god,¡± she whispered. ¡°The signature¡¯s so strong. What could possibly generate this much qi underground, Faisal?¡± The excavation leader, a portly man in bifocals and a white parka, answered in a thick Saudi accent. ¡°I do not know, Mrs. Kingsfield, but it frightens me. I am thinking we should be having more security if there is something alive down there.¡± ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous,¡± said Yarran. ¡°No creature could give off such energy. It¡¯s a natural wellspring of some kind. The old legends spoke of the planet itself having chakras.¡± He rubbed his hands in anticipation. ¡°If the Dragons could harness them¡­.¡± Faisal¡¯s eyes flitted nervously between Yarran, Suzume, and Waru. The Dragons vetted outsiders carefully¡ªWaru¡¯s aunt, Akita, ran the Dragons¡¯ small team of mind-adepts responsible for the task¡ªbut sometimes outsiders blabbed. When they did, mind-adepts had to use their most hated technique, Memory Obliteration, on everyone involved. Faisal struck Waru as a scared man. Scared men tended to blab. ¡°Before you continue that line of thinking,¡± said Faisal, nudging up his glasses, ¡°I think you should be hearing what we have found inside the trench.¡± ¡°Go on,¡± said Yarran. Faisal swallowed. His eyes went to Suzume, as if hoping she would speak on his behalf. She did. ¡°They found a structure.¡± Yarran¡¯s brow lofted. ¡°Natural?¡± ¡°No.¡± Yarran and Waru traded looks of confusion. ¡°Manmade?¡± said Yarran. ¡°But how¡ª¡± ¡°Not that either,¡± said Suzume with relish. Yarran¡¯s mouth fell open. Waru¡¯s heart pounded. ¡°Maybe Faisal¡¯s right, Dad. Maybe we need more security.¡± But before Waru could finish speaking, Yarran jumped to the bottom of the trench. ¡°Honey, wait!¡± shouted Suzume, leaping after him. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything rash!¡± Waru faced Faisal. ¡°You should alert the other Dragons, just in case.¡± Faisal swallowed, nodded. He cast an anxious glance to Yarran and Suzume, then trudged off to a prefab. Waru jumped into the trench, landing beside his parents. The three peered into the pitch-black pit. Beside the pit stood a gantry bore and a mounted laser-cutter. The crewmen were watching the Dragons closely, muttering to each other in Arabic and clutching their picks. One, a stocky young man with fearful eyes, offered Yarran a high-powered flashlight. Yarran declined. He glanced at Suzume. She clapped her hands and began to glow from head to foot with bright yellow light. Several of the crewmen gasped; they¡¯d seen the Dragons wield qi for weeks, but every new technique brought surprise. Then Suzume levitated¡ªthat caused another stir¡ªand descended slowly into the pit. ¡°Dad,¡± murmured Waru, ¡°you know I can¡¯t levitate.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be okay, son. Just descend the old-fashioned way.¡± Yarran clapped Waru¡¯s back affectionately, then levitated down the hole after Suzume. The pit glowed with Suzume¡¯s golden light. Gradually, the light dimmed. Waru felt the crewmen¡¯s expectant eyes. He shot the men a cold look. They averted their faces. Waru hated pressure. His dad was right; he struggled to control his emotions. But he had a bad feeling about all this. Qi was power. And power was dangerous. Whatever was causing the massive qi signature the Dragons had detected with their satellites two months ago had to be more dangerous than a nuclear bomb. Control your emotions, idiot. You¡¯re a Dragon. Biting down his fear, Waru jumped into the pit. As he fell, he kicked from wall to wall to control his descent, chasing Suzume¡¯s retreating light. To his amazement, the walls were metal. Bulges of rock punctured the walls here and there, but the pit looked to have once been perfectly round; it was as if Faisal¡¯s crew had punctured the top of a long-sealed silo. He went down, and down, and down into the black heart of the world. The pit seemed to go on forever. He felt like Gandalf plunging through the depths of Moria. Down, and down, and down. At last, he alighted on a concave metal floor, in a passage wide enough for a subway train. Yarran and Suzume were waiting for him in Suzume¡¯s pool of light. Suzume¡¯s qi reader was humming, its echoes strange in the corridor. ¡°I don¡¯t believe this,¡± she whispered, swallowing. ¡°The signature¡¯s even stronger than we thought. All those layers of rock were muffling it.¡± ¡°Oh my God.¡± Yarran approached a pipe fixed to one wall. The pipe ran down the passage into darkness. ¡°Look.¡± Waru studied the pipe. On one of the flanges bracing it was a string of symbols; they looked a bit like Mandarin, but with triangular characters instead of boxy ones. ¡°Is that a language you recognize?¡± said Waru. ¡°I sure as fuck don¡¯t.¡± Apparently Yarran was too stunned to notice Waru¡¯s cursing. ¡°No,¡± Yarran muttered. Suzume shook her head. ¡°Me neither.¡± Yarran led the way down the corridor, his wife and son close beside him. Waru said, ¡°You know what this is, right? I mean, it has to be.¡± Suzume¡¯s voice was breathless. ¡°A remnant of some extinct civilization.¡± Waru nodded. ¡°Antarctica had rainforests a long time ago. Like, a really long time ago. I¡¯ll bet the continent was prime real estate when this place was built.¡± ¡°They must have been pretty advanced,¡± said Yarran in reverence. ¡°Makes you wonder what drove them extinct.¡± ¡°And where the hell that qi¡¯s coming from,¡± said Waru. ¡°How close is the source?¡± ¡°Deeper, if you can believe it,¡± said Suzume. ¡°Only question is how we get there.¡± No sooner had she said this than the three reached a wall¡ªor maybe, given the seams around it, a gate. In front of the gate, fitting snuggly into the concave floor, sat a dark blue sphere of shimmering crystal. The crystal had overlapping edges like an armadillo. Suzume¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°That sphere¡ªYarran¡­.¡± ¡°It¡¯s rich in qi,¡± said Yarran. ¡°I can feel it. How strange. It feels like a living thing.¡± Yarran clenched his fist; a thin whorl of qi, glowing the same blue as the sphere, unfurled from the object to meet his hand. Waru was low on qi after his descent through the pit. He followed his father¡¯s gesture, drawing the sphere¡¯s qi into himself. The qi was cool, deep, scintillating, unlike any he¡¯d Collected before. And it felt¡ªresponsive. Struck with boldness, he sent some of his own qi back to the sphere. An incredible thing happened. The sphere partly uncurled¡ªagain he thought of an armadillo¡ªto reveal a chair, surrounded by a crystal instrument panel. The instruments hummed and blinked. Yarran gasped. ¡°What¡­?¡± Then Waru understood. ¡°The concave floor must be a road. And the sphere¡ªa vehicle.¡± ¡°What should we do?¡± said Suzume. As if in answer, the sphere spoke in a deep, rasping alien tongue, and the vehicle curled shut. The sphere rolled down the concave road toward the gate. With a shriek, the gate slid open. The sphere picked up speed, rolling on into the blackness. The three walked on through the gate, Yarran shaking his head in wonder. When no one else said it, Waru blurted, ¡°Qi tech! Fucking qi tech!¡± ¡°But how is that possible?¡± said Suzume. ¡°How could a species with such incredible control of qi go extinct?¡± ¡°Maybe they didn¡¯t,¡± said Yarran. ¡°Or maybe, I don¡¯t know, they left the planet. Or they¡¯re here. Right here. Underground.¡± That sent a chill down Waru¡¯s spine. His fear and curiosity were at war inside him. As scared as he was, he had to know what was causing the massive signature on Suzume¡¯s qi reader. ¡°I bet there¡¯s a whole city of qi tech down here,¡± said Waru. ¡°That must be what¡¯s causing the signature.¡± Yarran nodded. ¡°It could be.¡± The corridor opened to a vast expanse of darkness. The ground began a gentle descent. Suzume strengthened her light. The concave road continued for several hundred feet before making a left turn into darkness. Yarran shut his eyes and began to glow as well. The combined light brought a chamber of staggering immensity into view. Waru couldn¡¯t see any walls but the one behind him, from which the road had emerged. As the Dragons walked on, Yarran and Suzume¡¯s light teased out other concave roads etching the floor¡ªdozens. Two more of the sphere vehicles were visible, resting in the roads as if waiting for passengers to jump into them. But Waru guessed no one had driven the spheres in eons. The three came to a structure so astounding that all the Dragons gasped at once. Waru¡¯s heart started thudding, hard and fast. He licked dry lips. It was a statue hundreds of feet tall, made of the same blue crystal as the spheres, the top barely encompassed in the Dragons¡¯ light. The statue showed the most awesome and terrifying being Waru had ever seen. The being was humanoid¡ªtwo arms, two legs, a head¡ªbut with long, razor-sharp talons instead of fingers and the head of a monstrous bird, with a hooked beak, hornlike tufts of feathers, and the cruelest eyes Waru had ever seen. The being wore a billowing robe on which a symbol was engraved: an eye sprouting four wings and encased in a crystal. ¡°My God!¡± cried Yarran. Suzume¡¯s voice cracked. ¡°According to the qi reader, this statue is the source of the signature.¡± Stepping forward, Yarran raised a hand toward the structure. Waru grabbed Yarran¡¯s arm. ¡°You¡¯re going to Collect? Are you crazy?¡± ¡°Son, it¡¯s a statue. Whoever made it, they¡¯re long gone.¡± ¡°Dad,¡± said Waru, glancing at his mother for help, ¡°we don¡¯t know what we¡¯re dealing with. You¡¯re the one who always tells me to use my head.¡± Suzume whispered, ¡°Your son¡¯s right.¡± Yarran frowned. ¡°You¡¯re siding with him?¡± ¡°There are no sides. We¡¯re family. I just think we should investigate this place before we interfere with anything.¡± Yarran frowned. ¡°I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± But his eyes were fixed on the statue. Waru hadn¡¯t noticed before how the towering mass of blue crystal glowed with a subtle inner light. ¡°Yarran?¡± Suzume held her husband¡¯s arm imploringly. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± But the Head Dragon seemed spellbound. Ignoring Suzume, he reached out his hand. ¡°No!¡± shouted Waru. But Yarran was already Collecting. A filament of qi, the very thinnest thread of light, spooled out from the statue and reached to join Yarran¡¯s hand. Yarran closed his eyes. ¡°Oh,¡± he whispered. ¡°Oh, the power in here, the power¡­.¡± Waru grabbed Yarran¡¯s arm and tried to block his chakra with Defiant Touch, but Waru''s qi was too low. Luckily, Suzume had the same thought; she wrangled Yarran forcefully, seizing his arm and cutting off his qi. Yarran scowled; then his face settled back to normal. He blinked as if shaken from a trance. ¡°It¡ªcalled me,¡± he said hoarsely. ¡°We should leave,¡± said Waru. ¡°This place is wrong.¡± Yarran nodded, looking shaken. He led back the way they¡¯d come, and smacked against something. Waru reached and felt an invisible barrier walling off their path. A cold, black terror covered his heart. How Sweet the Sound of a Screaming Mother His heart battering his ribs, Waru felt along the barrier for any give. There was none. Suzume¡¯s light faded, leaving the three in a darkness broken only by the statue¡¯s glow. Suzume took her Mirage Splitter stance¡ªclosing her eyes, crossing her arms¡ªbut no duplicate image of her appeared. ¡°I can¡¯t use qi!¡± she cried in dismay. Taking the Qi Beam stance, Yarran stood tall, breathed deep, and joined his index and forefinger, aiming at the unseen wall. But no beam of white energy left his fingers. His look of bewilderment melted into one of fear. We have to keep calm, Waru wanted to say, but something happened just then. The barrier glowed a soft, shifting blue. Its light strengthened. Stepping back, Waru saw the barrier made an enormous dome containing the statue. A humming filled Waru¡¯s ears: at first soft, then deep, like a swarm of hornets. Suzume¡¯s qi reader trembled and crackled; she threw it just before it burst into a hundred shards. The barrier glowed so bright Waru could no longer see beyond it. Then it vanished¡ªand Waru, Yarran, and Suzume were back on the icy surface of Antarctica, the air blisteringly cold. The statue stood before them, its immensity astounding in the light of day. ¡°Teleportation,¡± murmured Suzume. ¡°So it¡¯s possible after all.¡± The statue¡¯s size gave Waru vertigo. A rumble of voices made him turn. The dome had teleported the Dragons half a mile from the dig-site. Dozens of crewmen were pouring from the site¡¯s prefabs to point and gape at the statue. A snowtruck sputtered to life and slurred out of the site toward the Dragons, the passengers craning out of the windows. The statue quivered like water, bending the light so the land and sky seen through it seemed to twist at impossible angles. Then, in seconds, the statue dissolved, the blue crystal becoming blue smoke, which gathered into a great cloud. The cloud spread, roiling. It plunged Waru, Yarran, and Suzume into deep, cold shadow. Where the statue had been, a figure hovered. It descended until it stood on the ice. It looked like the statue made flesh, but perhaps twelve feet tall instead of hundreds. The head was the same: cruel-eyed and avian. The robe was the same, billowing, with that winged-eye-in-a-crystal symbol. The creature¡¯s feathers were a deep blue, shot here and there with streaks of white. The eyes were white as cue balls, without pupils. They looked right down to the floor of Waru¡¯s soul. Behind those eyes burned a power so vast, Waru felt like a rat staring at a tank. Yarran spoke. If he was afraid, his voice did not show it. ¡°Friend, the Dragons greet you. I am Yarran Kingsfield, Head Dragon and Shadowed Protector of Humankind. This is Suzume Kingsfield, my wife, and Waru Kingsfield, my son. We bless you in the light of the qi that lives in all things, that binds the universe.¡± The avian was silent, its white eyes inscrutable. Its hands hung limp at its sides. It just stood on the ice, watching the Dragons. The snowtruck slewed to a halt beside the trio. Faisal leapt from the vehicle, along with three others, all clutching automatic weapons. Faisal¡¯s eyes were huge; the sight struck him speechless. ¡°Put away your weapons!¡± Suzume ordered. Faisal looked at her in disbelief. ¡°Put them away,¡± Yarran hissed, and the men did so. At last the avian spoke. The voice¡ªa male voice, Waru noticed¡ªwas deep, rasping, ancient. ¡°In what age have I awoken? This land is not the land I know.¡± Yarran had been right to assume language was no barrier, Waru thought. With an awareness so powerful, how could it be? ¡°By our calendar, the year is 2025,¡± said Yarran, ¡°but that means nothing to you.¡± He glanced at Waru. ¡°How long as it been since the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs?¡± ¡°Sixty-six million years.¡± Yarran told the creature, ¡°It has been sixty-six million years since the asteroid that wiped out the dinosaurs.¡± ¡°You do not lie,¡± said the creature. ¡°I sense that much. Nor does this land.¡± He stroked the bottom of his beak with his razor-sharp talon and gazed at the barren horizon. ¡°Fifty-two million years I have waited for one who knows the Source to wake me. And so it has happened. Yet I sense so little of the Source in you¡ªand in this world.¡± He inhaled, as if taking the measure of the Earth from the air itself. ¡°So very little.¡± This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Yarran balled his fist, but kept his tone calm. ¡°Friend, I have given you my name. What is yours?¡± The creature answered without looking at Yarran, eyes still on the horizon. ¡°My race gave me many names. But I discarded them all, as I discarded my race.¡± The humans gasped. The creature seemed not to notice. ¡°I call myself Azreth. It is a word that means the light of an exploding star.¡± At last he faced Yarran. ¡°You call yourself Head Dragon, yet your son has a greater hold on the Source than you. Far greater. Even so, you are all of you nothing. Tell me¡ªfor I have slept fifty-five thousand centuries to fight a worthy opponent¡ªwho is the strongest Source Wielder in this age? It cannot be your son. I refuse to believe it.¡± Suzume, pale as milk, whispered to Waru, ¡°Run, my child.¡± The spirit went out of Waru at that. His mother would never tell him to run unless she thought death was certain. A Dragon never flees. A selfish part of him wanted to leap into the snowtruck and drive as fast as possible from the being who called himself Azreth. But he could never abandon his mother and father. ¡°Please,¡± Suzume whispered, more urgently. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± said Waru. ¡°You know that.¡± With a controlled tone, Yarran told Azreth, ¡°My son may have more qi than I do, but he¡¯s still learning how to fight. I am the one you seek. I am the greatest qi warrior of the age.¡± Soundlessly, Azreth teleported closer to the Dragons. Up close, he was somehow more terrifying than the statue he''d slept in. A strange smell like ozone emanated from his flesh. His empty white eyes peered down at Yarran as if at an insect. ¡°You lie to protect your boy-child.¡± Yarran shook his head. ¡°If you can sense lies, you should know I¡¯m telling the truth.¡± ¡°He is,¡± said Suzume. Azreth¡¯s eyes roved to Waru, blazing with contempt. His beak tightened into a scowl. ¡°How can it be? How can it be that in such vast reaches of time, nature has produced a race capable of touching the Source, yet as weak as yourselves? What a revolting trick. You should never have awakened me. I would rather have waited for a more powerful race. Yet now I see what I must do.¡± He made an O with two fingers, as if to flick an ant, and brought it to Yarran¡¯s forehead. ¡°I will simply have to conquer the universe to find what I seek.¡± He flicked. Yarran was there; then he was not. In his place, for a long millisecond, stood a Yarran-shaped effigy of blood; over the next few milliseconds, the blood smeared across the ice in a hectic fan shape. Waru processed all this even as the shockwave flung him into the snowtruck. He sank halfway into the side of the vehicle as if it were foam. He gaped at the bloodstain that had been his father. He had to be imagining this. It wasn¡¯t possible. Suzume was lying on the ground, blood dripping from her ears, nose, eyes. She blinked and crawled, trembling, to her feet. Faisal¡¯s crew opened fire on Azreth. The bullets vanished where they struck¡ªjust vanished. Azreth cocked his head at the crewmen. ¡°You have no command of the Source at all?¡± He plucked Faisal off the ground like a doll and held him thrashing. ¡°What a mockery of life!¡± Azreth¡¯s eyes flared. Faisal bubbled like liquid. His head traded places with an arm. His legs melted together and slid up to jut from his chest. He screamed and screamed as Azreth made more alterations, turning him into a shoggoth of human flesh. Then Azreth set Faisal gingerly on the ground and sent him rolling across the ice at breakneck speed, his screams fading into the distance. The crewmen threw aside their guns and raced toward the dig-site. Before they covered twenty feet, Azreth sent a beam from his pinky-talon and they burst into blue flame. At the same time, the helicopter at the dig-site was clattering into the air. Several crewmen were hanging desperately onto the landing gear. Azreth snapped his fingers. A tendril of lightning lashed out of the great blue cloud above him and struck the helicopter, sending it wobbling and spinning into the ice, the fuselage crumpling, the twisting rotors turning one of the hangers-on into a red spray. ¡°Please¡­.¡± croaked Suzume. ¡°No¡­.¡± With great effort, Waru pushed himself out of the hole he¡¯d made in the snowtruck. He buckled, got back to his feet, then staggered and clutched his mother in both arms. Azreth snapped his fingers several times. More lightning struck the dig-site. Prefabs burst into blue flame. Burning crewmen ran back and forth across the ice, their screams faint from this distance. Against the terror in his heart, against the certainty of death, Waru found the strength his father had always hoped he would. His own bravery surprised him. He told the entity calmly, ¡°There¡¯s no sport in this, Azreth. Give me five years to train and I¡¯ll be strong enough to fight you. Five years. I¡¯ll become the worthy opponent you seek. Just let my mother live.¡± For the first time, Azreth smiled. The smile held vast mockery. ¡°You would do that for me?¡± He snatched Waru in one hand and Suzume in the other, glancing between them like a child wondering which toy to play with. His palm was cold as ice. ¡°Not my son!¡± cried Suzume. ¡°Don¡¯t hurt my son! Anything! I¡¯ll do anything!¡± ¡°I had forgotten how pleasant the sound of a screaming mother is,¡± said Azreth. ¡°Perhaps the music will lose its savor in time, but for now¡­.¡± A translucent blue crystal encased Suzume. She banged on the crystal and screamed. Azreth twitched a finger; the crystal hovered into place beside his ear. He shut his eyes. ¡°Yes,¡± he whispered. ¡°Such sweet music.¡± The lightning was still coming down, but there were no more screams at the dig-site. ¡°As for you,¡± said Azreth, ¡°mighty son of Yerrow, or whatever his name was¡ªseeing as you are the most powerful Source Wielder of this age, I¡¯ll let you choose your death. What will it be? Flame? A flick of the finger? Or perhaps you¡¯d like your limbs refashioned? I have other choices, of course.¡± ¡°Let me go,¡± said Waru. ¡°Let me train. Let me fight you.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll never be strong enough. Not in a thousand years.¡± ¡°Watch. Let me go!¡± ¡°As you wish.¡± With that, Azreth reached back his arm and flung Waru into the sky. The last few moments of Waru¡¯s life were a blend of anguish, sorrow, rage, and disbelief. Even with all his qi concentrated on protecting himself, Waru felt as if g-forces would turn him to jelly. He rocketed through the atmosphere, the cold wind slicing him like a thousand swords. Then, in no time at all, he was in the black vacuum of space, hurtling toward the infinite void. He was spinning so fast the Earth whipped across his vision like a slot-machine lemon. He shut his eyes against a surge of nausea. He spun and spun, the impossibly cold vacuum sucking every drop of air from his lungs. The last thing Waru Kingsfield thought, before his brain fired its last signals, was of a memory long-buried, of him picking out a Christmas tree with his mother and father, the smell of pine needles thick in his nostrils. It was a good memory. Then it was gone. Pelegs Price Dark. A dark as deep as anything could be.
Light. A fragile, mellow light the color of spring grass. A ball of awareness absorbed the light without comprehension. The light split and clumped into bleary forms, gaining new shades and hues, becoming a series of objects. In front of the ball of awareness¡ªor above?¡ªwas a nest of spindly, armlike things that looked hostile. Person, a part of the awareness whispered. I am a person, a man. The man became conscious of his body, of his heart pumping blood, of his lungs drawing air, of his eyes growing watery in the green light. He moved what he knew to be his tongue, though the concept was slippery¡ªmoved it from side to side in his mouth. He blinked. A satisfying sensation. He blinked again. The armlike things were definitely above him. They were luminaires of some kind, snaking down from a green ceiling. He was lying on a hard surface, its metal cool against his flesh. Warm, thick air surrounded him. Sounds. A metallic tinkering. The man slid his gaze to a slouching figure beside him. The figure was arranging odd steel implements on a desk, not paying attention to the man. He looked, impossibly, like an overfed triceratops in filthy overalls. His pebbly orange skin was brindled in red. Strapless black goggles sat at the base of a beak. The goggles seemed as small as a pince-nez on top of his huge horned head. His broad, swept-back frill was studded with little nubs of gray bone. He wore leathery black gloves and big steel-soled boots. He was mumbling to himself in a weird tongue, his voice a creaky bassoon. Waru¡ªthe man remembered his own name; that was a start¡ªsat up and looked around. He was in a forest teeming with ferns and stout palm trees. An indoor forest. Around him stood desks and shelves and a mobile bank of computers, the screens of which bubbled with diagrams. All these objects levitated a few inches off the ground. The chamber connected to others in all directions through marching rows of groined vaults, their pillar-archways covered in moss. A white mist obscured more distant chambers. Waru Kingsfield. Yes. I remember. But who am I? He was naked. It felt wrong. All over his body, thin wires had been inserted. That felt wrong, too. He grabbed a bouquet of wires stuck to his chest and ripped them out. The pain was dazzling. He screamed. The creature arranging implements¡ªa member of a race called Cerans, he would come to learn¡ªjumped with a shrill cry, the goggles flying off his head. He scampered off through the pillar-archways and vanished into the mist. Bewildered, Waru ripped off the rest of the wires and jumped down from the hovering slab he¡¯d been lying on. Waru Kingsfield. A man. A Dragon. But what did any of that mean? He studied the implements on the desk. Surgical tools, by the look of it. And a device that resembled a qi reader. Qi. I know qi. But the qi was a tiny flame inside him. He pointed the device¡¯s prong at himself and pushed a button. Symbols appeared on the screen: a pair of green triangular logograms. They looked faintly familiar. The computers showed the same symbols. Lying on a desk was a tattered black gi with a dragon emblazoned on it. Gasping in recognition, he snatched the gi and threw it on. He could fight. He knew that much. But when he punched the air, he felt weak. He clutched a scalpel like a dagger and struck off through the forest in search of the Ceran. A black six-winged dragonfly lofted from a fern and sailed off in a blur. ¡°Show yourself!¡± he shouted. ¡°I don¡¯t know if you wish to harm me, but I will defend myself with lethal force if I must!¡± No answer. He walked on, keeping away from the denser plumes of mist that rolled through the trees. He came to a transparent wall, corded here and there with vines. He gasped. Beyond the wall lay a wilderness of stars, uncountably many of them, red and white and blue and yellow, flickering through veils of orange and mauve and lavender dust. ¡°Szkel!¡± piped a voice behind him. He whirled to find the Ceran clutching what looked like a huge red butterfly net, the mesh humming with electricity. The Ceran¡¯s yellow eyes were wide. He was trembling. ¡°Clesch vin tzar tzumi!¡± The Ceran took a small disc of blue crystal out of his overalls and tossed it at Waru¡¯s feet. Waru flinched, but the disc did not hurt him. The Ceran gestured for Waru to pick it up. Reluctantly, Waru did. The disc glowed, then flared with bright strobing light. Waru dropped the disc and staggered back against the wall, his head swarming with those strange triangular logograms. For a few seconds he had a splitting headache and feared he¡¯d sprung a trap. Then his mind stilled and he was himself again. ¡°Now we can speak to each other,¡± said the Ceran, still trembling. ¡°That locution disc you hold has altered your brain so you can understand the Tzintzuni tongue, be it spoken or written. Please give it back, as it cost me a thousand scales.¡± Astonished, Waru tossed back the disc. ¡°Who are you?¡± he demanded. ¡°Where am I?¡± ¡°I am Peleg. But I can¡¯t imagine that name means anything to you.¡± His fingers tapped his net in a fretful rhythm. ¡°Do you intend violence?¡± ¡°Not if I can avoid it.¡± ¡°That is marginally encouraging. Yet the scalpel in your possession raises doubts.¡± Waru tossed the scalpel near Peleg; the Ceran picked it up. ¡°My doubts have receded somewhat. Please accompany me to the lounge and I will explain all¡ªbut walk in front!¡± The lounge turned out to be another forested chamber slithering with mist. But this one had levitating chairs made of a soft shapeless substance somewhere between foam and clay. At a word from Peleg, two of the chairs scooped up him and Waru. The foam-clay substance rippled under Waru. The feeling was pleasant, but Waru¡¯s unease did not lessen. ¡°I don¡¯t belong here,¡± he said. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m in a dream.¡± ¡°You could hardly be blamed for that,¡± said Peleg. From a trolley, he dialed up two glassy bulbs full of yellow cream. Peleg¡¯s chair drifted over so he could pass Waru a bulb. ¡°Do you have a name?¡± ¡°My name is Waru Yarran Ryusei Kingsfield,¡± said Waru. ¡°That¡¯s about the only thing I know about me.¡± Peleg frowned. ¡°Amnesia. That is unfortunate.¡± He sucked some cream out of his bulb¡¯s tapered aperture. ¡°But I suppose it¡¯s a small price for not being dead. As for me, I¡¯m a deepspace trawler for the Clan of the Carrion-Eaters. I trawl the vastnesses of interstellar space in search of derelict qi ships. When I find one, my vessel¡¯s retrieval arms gut the bluestone drive from the qi ship¡¯s engine room and reel it into my possession. I then sell the drive on Asteron Prime. That¡¯s my planet, as you may have guessed. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. "But a strange thing happened while I was trawling space today. My ship¡¯s qi reader brought me to you.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand," said Waru. "I was floating in outer space?¡± ¡°If by floating you mean flying at five miles per second. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. But the strangest part,¡± said Peleg, frowning down at his bulb of cream, ¡°is that you were dead, stone dead, when I found you. Dead things don¡¯t have qi signatures. Or so I thought. Truth be told¡ªand I hope you won¡¯t take this personally¡ªI had planned to, erm, study you before you came back to life.¡± ¡°Take me apart, you mean.¡± Peleg threw up a defensive hand. ¡°You had no vitals! I was certain you were dead!¡± Waru pardoned him with a shrug. ¡°Maybe I wasn¡¯t all dead. Is that possible?¡± Peleg puffed his cheeks thoughtfully. ¡°Or the qi¡ªwell, resurrected you. There are some, and I did not count myself among them until today, who believe qi has a will of its own, and guides nature to its own mysterious ends.¡± ¡°But why? Why me?¡± ¡°If only I knew!¡± Waru clenched his fists. ¡°I must learn who I am, where I came from.¡± ¡°Ah, the second question I can answer. You¡¯re a human, of course. Based upon the trajectory you were flying when I found you, and after running simulations of this sector¡¯s stellar alignments over the preceding millennia, your flight path perfectly intersects that of the Sol system nine hundred and seventy-six years ago. It therefore seems likely you came from Sol¡ªwhich does not surprise me, Sol being your race¡¯s birthstar.¡± ¡°What do you know of Sol?¡± Peleg¡¯s eyes glittered. ¡°Now that is curious. Come to think of it, you would have left Sol the very same year that he awoke. How intriguing.¡± ¡°¡®He¡¯?¡± ¡°The Plague of Grief, he is called among those who fear him. Joy-Eater. Shadowblight. King of Sorrows and Lamentations. To his worshippers, he is the Nova¡¯s Light, he is Truthbringer, he is the Flame of the Source, he is the Holy Storm Eternal. Others call him merely the Blue Emperor, or Lord White-Eyes. But his true name is Azreth.¡± A piece of ice fell through Waru¡¯s soul. ¡°I know that name.¡± ¡°So you know of him.¡± Peleg shuddered. ¡°Never has a being brought such pain to my world. Asteron Prime was the first of his conquests. There have been many since. His accursed Galactic Fief has conquered thousands of worlds. None have withstood his armies, not even the Dracari. Yet Azreth himself rarely leaves Earth. He seeks but one thing: a being who can defeat him in single combat. ¡°So strong is Azreth that few warriors in the last millennium have given him the slightest challenge. Yet many, many, many have tried, for anyone who defeats him is entitled by law to his Galactic Fief. His challengers come from all across the Fief to participate in the Grand Tourney of Earth, which he hosts once every century. The victor of that Tourney gets to fight Azreth to the death. ¡°A mad wish, if ever there was one, but the Azrethi Galactic Fief is so vast there is never a shortage of madness. I have heard it said that at any one time there are a million beings on Earth training for the next Grand Tourney. Of those, only a few hundred will qualify for the Tourney at all, and virtually everyone who participates will die in the process. A dismal ambition, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± Peleg¡¯s words had knocked loose many thoughts in Waru. Waru was slow to answer. ¡°This Azreth sounds like a vile tyrant. If his challengers believe they have even a tiny chance of overthrowing him, the near-certainty of death might be worth it.¡± ¡°Fools! All of them! None can defeat the Plague of Grief! But again, it strikes me¡ªyou came from Earth around the time of Azreth¡¯s emergence. Can this be a coincidence? Legend speaks of humans finding Azreth in the depths of the Earth and awakening him. In a brief time¡ªthe Nine Hours of Disobedience, it is called¡ªAzreth laid waste to all humans who opposed him. ¡°Humans were a stubborn race in those days. Some launched atomics against him. But in doing so, they only slaughtered themselves. Fewer than one in ten humans survived this Great Hemoclysm. A better fate than some races faced at the Joy-Eater¡¯s hands, but worse than most.¡± ¡°This monster,¡± said Waru. ¡°You say he came from the depths of the Earth. What else is known about him?¡± ¡°He is the last member of a race that lived on Earth before humans evolved. The Tzintzuni, they called themselves. It means ¡®acolytes of nature¡¯. A strange and powerful race of qi adepts. But of Azreth¡¯s life, little is known. He is a sullen and secretive creature.¡± ¡°What does he look like?¡± Peleg grimaced. ¡°You wish to see his visage.¡± ¡°If you can show me.¡± ¡°The sight fills me with dread. As a boy, my creche-mother kept Azreth¡¯s effigy in my room, to watch over me so I would not misbehave. But I suppose an image cannot harm me.¡± Peleg pulled a device from his overalls and cast a hologram into the air. The sight startled Waru so much, he flung his bulb away and would have toppled from his chair had it not adjusted to catch him. His heart raced. His skin crawled. His voice creaked with hysteria. ¡°I know him!¡± The memories came rushing so fast, so painful, he thought they would crush him. ¡°No,¡± he groaned, remembering the avian demon who turned his father into a pattern of blood. ¡°No, no,¡± he muttered, remembering his mother imprisoned in a crystal, remembering all the death and destruction at the dig-site, remembering Azreth¡¯s cold hand as it clutched him, drew back, flung him into the sky. Peleg watched Waru with wide eyes. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Overcome with a nameless panic, Waru jumped out of his floating chair and raced off in a random direction, then doubled back a different way, his pulse racing, his mind a white fuzz of dizziness. ¡°It can¡¯t be¡ªcan¡¯t be¡ªcan¡¯t be¡­.¡± Peleg fidgeted nervously. ¡°Storms and starfire,¡± he whispered, ¡°I¡¯ve brought a madman aboard!¡± An instant of darkness came over Waru. Then he found himself flat on his back amongst the ferns, staring up at a fearful-looking Peleg. ¡°You fainted,¡± Peleg explained. Waru rose unsteadily. Without getting back in his chair, he told the Ceran everything he could remember about his encounter with Azreth in the heart of Antarctica. Peleg¡¯s expression turned from curious to bewildered to awestruck, and finally to silent, stunned contemplation. ¡°It all makes sense now,¡± said Peleg sadly. ¡°It all makes sense. The grief must be fresh in your heart. From your perspective, Azreth killed your father mere moments before you awoke on my table.¡± ¡°Grief, yes. But more than that, I feel¡­.¡± Waru trembled, fists balled tight, face burning. ¡°What?¡± Peleg asked. ¡°You feel what?¡± ¡°Rage.¡± The feeling was a nuclear furnace in Waru¡¯s chest. Anger and Waru were one. His heart was racing so fast he thought he might pass out again, but the anger, red-hot and vast as the surface of the sun, kept him standing. He screamed with insane fury, screamed and screamed. When at last he gained hold of himself, ignoring Peleg¡¯s fearful fidgeting, he paced the room, calculating vengeance. ¡°I will obliterate Azreth,¡± he said coolly. ¡°I will torture him and torture him, and then I will destroy him.¡± Peleg swallowed. ¡°An understandable ambition. But perhaps I can recommend more achievable ones. Like, say, gardening.¡± ¡°Azreth must face justice! He must! When is the next Grand Tourney?¡± ¡°In twenty-four solyears, but¡ª¡± ¡°More than enough time to train. We must go to Earth immediately. How far is it?¡± ¡°One hundred and seventy-two lightyears. My bluestone drive is reasonably adequate; it can make that trip in nineteen solyears. That is three weeks, ship-time. But I assure you, time is not your problem, Waru Kingsfield. If you had all the time in the universe, you would be no more likely to defeat Azreth. And that is because no one can.¡± ¡°Twenty-four minus nineteen is five,¡± said Waru, Peleg¡¯s words washing over him. ¡°Five years to train. Funny. That¡¯s how long I asked Azreth for, just before he threw me into space.¡± Peleg shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to put this gently. You are not strong enough to kill a star-conquering demon.¡± ¡°You underestimate the Son of the First Dragon. Take me to Earth.¡± Peleg ticked off three nervous fingers. ¡°First, Earth is much too far away. The fuel cost would be exorbitant. Second, you have no means to compensate me for the work I would forego. Third, I fear Earth down to the little crystals in my bones. It is the very den of Azreth!¡± Waru said impatiently, ¡°I¡¯ll pay your costs. I¡¯ll pay double.¡± Peleg cocked his head. ¡°How?¡± ¡°They must have jobs on Earth.¡± ¡°None that would earn you the nine thousand scales I¡¯d require, notwithstanding all the time I¡¯d lose.¡± ¡°None at all?¡± said Waru in disbelief. Peleg rubbed his forehorn. ¡°You say you¡¯re a great fighter. If that¡¯s so, you could make a fair amount in the fighting pits. More likely, you¡¯d die.¡± ¡°Was a great fighter. My qi is dim and pale compared to what it was. But that will be fixed, in time. Are there other ways to make money?¡± ¡°Outside of gambling and theft? Or games of great danger, like gauntlet lodges or teleportation chicken?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes. Surely there are just¡ªjobs?¡± ¡°Alas, humans are a lowly race on Earth. They number two billion, but the offworld races who inhabit the planet are five times more numerous and tend to regard your kind as a nuisance. The status of humans on Luna is more favorable¡ªthere, they have some power¡ªbut Lunarians have no truck with outsiders.¡± ¡°Whatever. I¡¯ll find a way to pay you back. I promise.¡± ¡°Ah, but how do I know you¡¯ll keep that promise?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t. I¡¯m at your mercy. But I swear on my honor as a Dragon.¡± Peleg made a chewing motion with his jaw, his eyes far away. ¡°The Dragons fought Azreth during the Nine Hours of Disobedience. This is known. It takes a mad sort of honor to fight a demon knowing you will die, but honor all the same. I suppose you share this honor yourself, given your goal.¡± He threw up his hands. ¡°Very well. But you must pay me back triple the fuel cost: twenty-seven thousand scales, no less. I must be compensated for the unpleasantness of coming to Azreth¡¯s world. And you must pay me as soon as you can. I do not expect you to live long, if you aspire to become a Tourney Ronin.¡± ¡°Deal. What is a Tourney Ronin?¡± ¡°It is what you must become to prepare for the Grand Tourney. But that is no urgent matter.¡± Peleg hopped from his seat with a grunt and straightened his overalls. ¡°Great storms of Asteron, what strange circumstances I have tumbled into. And you, Waru, have tumbled deeper yet. Come with me, if you would. I will bid my Pterids prepare your sleeping chambers while I draw up an official contract and set course for¡ªEarth.¡± He shuddered at the word.