One Moo'r Plow

There was little information to be gained from the soldiers I had just saved. Despite all that I had done, ignoring that I had just saved their lives, they refused to give me anything. Loyal men of the baron to a fault. All that was willing to be spoken had been said, and now I sat hunched over as Ishila worked at my back.

Sharp pain twung up my spine as she yanked free an arrow embedded just out of my own reach. My eyes watered with pain as I forced down another gulp of petal-milk, its healing properties working to close the freshly-widened wound.

Whoever had fired these at me had both impeccable accuracy and Skills that let them slice through my hide with ease. Ince Ironhide had dissipated, I had found myself covered in a hundred cuts. Individually small and bearable, but collectively enough to torture me even as they began to close.

“Fools one and all.” Ishila remarked. I took her words to mean the baron’s riders who sat seated in the shadow of the wall. Workers watched them warily as their wounds too were healed. After some discussion, it was decided that they would be allowed to stay until it was safe to leave.

To send them back into the forest once their injuries were healed would surely be a death sentence.

“Humans,” I grunted. “Not easily swayed, even for their own better fortunes.”

“Hmm. I expected you to be more upset for some reason.” She grunted and yanked out another arrow between words. My back shuddered with how deep this one was, but I remained still.

I sighed and shook my head. Anything to distract myself from the pain.

“I know enough. There is little I can do to avenge their fellows, but they may glean some safety here.”

I meant that. What little the riders had told me could be summed up with; they were on patrol and had been ambushed by a literal rain of arrows.

Nothing less, nothing more. Where they had been going, who had shot at them all remained shrouded.

There was little I could do about this. What was there to be done, after all? Charge into the forest, claymore waved over my head and hope to find the attackers still sitting there?

If only things were that simple.

Saws rasped in the distance, axes split great logs and workers shouted as another section of walls was secured. The workday continued after that brief pause. No matter what, the farm had to go on. It’s master wounded and in pain, yes, but my wishes were that the construction did not stop.

Zheli fussed about and offered some soup to help what ailed me, but I found myself so bloated with petal-milk that it healed my hunger as well.

Something I could further advertise it for?

I had been reminded of my own mortality today, my mortal vincibility made clear once more. Strong and sturdy as I was, there were those that could harm me, and they were not far away. Yet rather than be shaken by this, I merely made note of it.

I had already died once, and was not deluded enough to think it could not happen again. Every day that I lived here, the memories of my old life grew more distant, as did any shred of desire I might have had to return. Who I had been before was unimportant. What mattered was who I had become.

And that, I did want taken from me.

“Where is,” My muscles spasmed mid-pull as another arrow was yanked free. “Your father?”

“At the fort. Again.” Ishila grunted. “Trouble with the dungeon. As always.”

That I had heard dozens of times since I woke, but had yet to find out what that trouble actually was. Velton had been insofar my magical problem-solver, and I needed to utilize him once more. He was distinctly unavailable, I learned shortly.

“Doesn’t even come home to sleep anymore.” Ishila sighed with some tinge of sadness as she ripped free another arrowhead. The pile of black shafts next to me had grown alarmingly large, and she still had plenty more to go. “Same as Ma’. Haven’t seen her in a week now. Only saw Pa’ when he flashed in to retrieve something and left again.”

So that ruled out both Velton’s mage-powers and Tehalis’s tracking.

I needed someone else. Someone just returned to us, who I would now ask to perhaps put herself in danger for me.

“Le’rish?” I knocked on the door of Velton’s farmhouse sometime later. All was quiet here, save for the crackle of powerful wards that had sprung up the instant my hooves had touched the farmyard. Ishila had been loathe to stay behind, but had agreed that the farm needed an overseer.

If I were to ask Le’rish to risk herself once more, I wanted the words to come from me. Not through a proxy, where it felt like I was using Ishila to pressure Le’rish into this.

Moments passed before the door quietly opened and the woman I sought stood within.

“Garek.” She greeted me with a hint of a smile. There was only one person she showed real emotion to, and while I was far, far into her good graces, it wasn’t me.

That was fine.

“Might I talk with you? Inside or out doesn’t matter.”

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The door swung open wider and she gestured me in.

“Does, actually. Want to show you something.”

And just like that, my interest was piqued. She seemed familiar with the house, walking around like it was her own. Been here for several weeks, after all. Time had passed since her rescue, and she had recovered well. Or so she told me. Something troubled her. Hidden underneath her usually small range of emotions.

Ever-present as we caught up, chastised me for not visiting while she was holed up here and bored out of her skull and more. Always right there on the tip of her tongue. Her scent was still non-present, empty as always. I in turn caught her up on the farm’s expansion and transformation, although I got the impression Ishila had already given her all the details there were to be had.

In turn, I asked how Artyom had been doing, and received a shrug in reply. The felenid lived in the barn where he was most comfortable, and maintained the farm in Velton’s absence. That was all she knew and imparted.

“You’re likely wondering,” Le’rish spoke slowly after a period of silence. “How I managed to survive in that pit for long, even trapped in my other form.”

She spoke those last two words slowly, carefully.

“I assumed it was something to do with your Skills.” I admitted. “Longevity as a monster or something, perhaps?”

She laughed at that. Just a little.

“Not at all. Monsters burn through food faster than almost any mortal race. This is what drives them to fight and hunt and prey on others, in many instances.”

“I am torn.” She admitted. “Yet after everything you have for me, I have to share this knowledge. Perhaps you too will understand. Come closers.”

Cautiously, I drew near and she laid her hand on my brow. For a moment, nothing happened. Then I was flooded with sights and sounds and scents all at once until I realized these were memories.

Not Le’rish’s. Some foreign, alien creature. Something that perceived the world differently. Something massive. My own thoughts and sensed dropped away as I was engulfed by it.

I was Ash-tul, the Earth Shaper. Greatest among mortals. Perfection itself, created in the image of the Gods. I had not and would never know death. Immortal. Dragon.

And I was not content. Prophets spoke that the Gods would one day fall. Elves and Dragons, the children of the Gods now rose against them to fight and take their rightful place. Why else had they been created perfect, if not to one day rule all this world?

The first mistake of the Old Gods.

I stormed Heaven’s Basilica, brought wroth and flame and power unyielding to the Old Gods with every dragon and elf at my side. Only through sheer numbers and losses was I forced back. Through endless white and blood-red legions of angels and swarms of Invaders let loose was the first crusade against Heaven broken, and we retreated down our strongholds once more.

But the Old Gods loved their children, and they were lenient enough to let us go.

Their second mistake.

They populated this world with more races, but none created in their image. These were mortal, frail. Many.

I walked among them, wings outstretched as they cowered in fear. Scales shed themselves from me, each falling onto hordes of mortals. Each with a fragment of my will and memories and power that would embed themselves in every host and turn them to my use. Soon the mortal masses had been transformed and legions of my own stood assembled.

It was not enough.

Star-seers of dragonkind spoke of Star-Gods who would come to our aid if we stormed the Fair Basilica once more.

And so we did. The Star Gods remained true to their word, and joined the battle from outside the heavens. The veil broke that day, the spaces between realities forever weakened as they summoned through great forces from other spaces.

Many were lost forever, wiped from existence by the Old Gods power. They battled not to stop up, but to preserve their very existence. Their legions of parasite-angels swept down to burn the world and sway our attention. Mine did not deter and marched upon the Fair Basilica.

Those who remained declared themselves the Gods Above and rulers of this new world. They spoke of other worlds where Dragons might solely rule uncontested. And so we would go to soar upon solar winds, free at last.

But one final act remained. One, perhaps of spite. My kind left in their glory resplendent, dooming this world to never witness a dragon once more.

But I was Ash-Tal, the Earth Shaper. Through this world, by sheer will I shaped a hundred, a thousand nests deep in earth. And in each one I planted a scale-gem of myself. An egg, almost. Surrounded by treasure and power, all would be drawn to them. None could resist the taste of power they offered. Power not given to mortals since the Old Gods had realized their first mistake.

Let the these new Gods Above rule this world, for one day I would return, and legions of dragons would await me once more.

Then, and only then did I take to the stars. My prophets would one day sing of my return, and I would come in swarms of meteors to make this world mine once more.

I was Garek once more. The memories ended and I snapped free, eyes wide and realizing I had not drawn a single breath all this while.

“What in the name of the Gods Above?” I struggled to make sense of what I had seen.

“I found one of those eggs.” Le’rish spoke quietly. “Exploring a dungeon far away from here. The Pit of Sahakar, they called that one. Brutal place. But I braved it and received its reward.”

“To be infected and transformed?”

“Yes. But the egg was old and fragile. Even dragon-magic cannot stand against time. Knocked me out cold for days once all those memories hit me. Gave me power. Dragonpower. A second form. One that you’ve seen.”

“The Apex.”

She smiled sadly.

“That’s what the system declared me, yes. The strongest among my kind. The one and only Drake left.”

“But does every dungeon not have an egg in it?”

I could not make sense of all those memories, foreign as they were.

“Do you know what happens whenever a new dragon is born into this world, Garek?”

I did not.

“They are either hunted down, or they leave. Most leave. Every dragon-birth is a cataclysmic event. One that happens seemingly at random. The eggs don't always take effect right away. They’re old, faulty, and not every dungeon has one.”

“And the Gods Above allow this?”

Le’rish shrugged.

“I don’t know. There’s much I don’t understand, but I have chosen to share it with you. I know you’re different. I suspect it’s something similar, in your case.”

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