Unbound

Felix’s anger cooled as they walked. He didn’t regret his words—he’d meant every one of them. What he regretted was potentially spoiling his relationship with Archie. The guy knew how to rub everyone the wrong way and seemed to enjoy doing it. Felix had always been good at gauging people though, even before he’d been hurled across the universe. There was something worthwhile in the guy, he knew it.

Eventually, he’d make Archie believe that too.

Conversation went entirely silent for a while, but Felix was fine with that. Their attention was better spent on the fortress around them. The hallways were laid out simply, with the closest chambers providing clear function for the Dragon stables. Rooms full of dry-rotted saddles and tack, decayed rope and chains more rust than steel. In one area they found a series of bunks that Yin explained were communal sleeping spaces for couriers and patrolling Dragoons.

Most of the rooms were stripped of anything particularly valuable, though not by looters like in the Kingsrock. No this had the appearance of a swift, orderly departure. All that remained were things too bulky or too heavy to move, and the odd assortment of forgotten knick-nacks. Dice made of bone, a comb of stone, and even a few coins spilled beneath a bed. They were an old minting, according to Vess. Old enough that she didn’t recognize the woman stamped into them.

“How would I know?” Yin answered when asked. “All you mortals look alike.”

The murals on the walls persisted through the fortress. Despite being coated in dirt they were still in remarkably good shape when compared to the rotted leather and hemp. All of them depicted swirling skies filled with flying Dragons, often alone. Others had the Dragoons as small, spear wielding figures stacked ten deep on each enormous lizard. They were beautiful, painted in a distinct style with the Dragons themselves picked out with carefully cut gemstones. That none of them had been hacked apart for their riches firmed Felix’s belief that they were in an unaccessed part of the fortress.

Up a set of stairs they found numerous open pens and trellised chambers utterly overgrown with wildlife. Some of it was the swamp encroaching on the fortress, but most seemed to have been planted there intentionally. Insects, birds, and lizards roamed everywhere, though they scattered whenever his party drew close.

“Food,” Harn said. “Livestock and crops. This place was designed to withstand sieges.”

Vess rubbed the wide leaf of a small tree, heavy with fruit. “All our fortresses were. What I know of our beginnings says that the Dragons we fought were mighty and relentless. More than one fortress has fallen to them, passing on into song and story. But I cannot trust what I was taught. The Dragons were our allies at one time.”

“The consequences of the War,” Yin said. “Always the War.”

“Against who?”

Vess traded looks with Yin, before speaking up. “The War against the gods, we think. The Dragoons were founded during that War, according to Yin, though he knews little more than that.”

“The Fathom consumed much of what I once was,” the Wyrmling said heavily. “I do not recall my origins, nor that of the Resplendent Order of the Dragoons.”

“What he does recall lends credence to these tomes I found in the vault. They speak of monsters, not Dragons or draconic Types.” Vess stepped up to a dirt-coated wall, broken up by clinging ivy. She swiped it clean to reveal another mural. It featured a handful of Dragons and Dragoons in battle against strange monsters with too many teeth and limbs. “What does this look like to you, Felix?”

He leaned closer, inspecting the shape of the creatures. None were the same, though all sported ungainly bodies that still exuded a sense of incredible threat. A thrill of recognition shot through his bones. “Primordial spawn.”

“Indeed. The flesh curse was the greatest threat to the Continent for many Ages. Together, the Dragons and Dragoons fought the infected beings in order to route their dire influence. An endless, brutal task. The work was not yet done when our partnership was dissolved.”

Felix shot a curious glance at the golden Wyrmling. “You’ve never mentioned this.”

“It is in the past. As I understand it, the Primordials that remain have gone quiescent. Or they have changed altogether,” he added, inclining his tiny head at Felix. “To cleanse the flesh curse…What we would have given to have you at our side then, Autarch.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t.” Images from his own recent past intruded on the present. Memories of the Revenants and the Dustborn Wraiths crowded him. “We’ve seen a piece of what horrors you must have had to face.”

“A terrible time, but I recall much joy in these fortresses.” Yin looked around at the foliage, up beyond the ceiling at something far away. “Come. We’ve more floors to explore, and we can do that faster if we split up.”

“Agreed. Evie, take Beef and Archie with you. Tzfell and Laur, stick together. Yin—”

“I shall venture forth on my own,” he said.

“As shall I,” Vess added.

“Right. Pit, Harn, Eidolons. You’re with me.”

Onward they went, past rooms filled with more plants and the scurrying of those odd chicken-lizards called Daika. A lot of them. Up another set of stairs, they reached rooms meant for people, with beds and wardrobes still intact. Daika were in there too, nesting in empty bookshelves or atop long-rotted bedding. Felix spent some time there, investigating what remained of those living spaces. Sadly he found little aside from scraps of paper and moldering clothes.

Yin, Vess, and Evie’s group went on ahead, and Felix was happy to let them. His team moved slower, partly due to Felix’s interest in everything and partly due to Harn’s crutches. The man refused to be carried any longer. Harn could move well enough with the crutches, but they weren’t the best at navigating the often slick stone flooring.

“I dunno how to shape rubber, but maybe a layer of, like, sticky earth? That…no that probably won’t work.” Felix rubbed his chin as they walked. It was increasingly bristly. He’d have a beard before long. “Hey Pit, do you think Vess minds beards?”

“Eh. Face hair is weird,” Pit said, trotting now as a Dire Hound again.

“Half your body is hair.”

“Fur.”“Same difference.”

“Except people enjoy my fur. They say I’m soft and cuddly. Your face hair is weird.”

“You’re just not used to it,” Felix scoffed. “Harn, what do you think? Are Continental women into beards?”

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Felix turned when the man didn’t answer, only to find that Harn had stopped. His eyes were closed and he was…sniffing the air.

“What’s going on?” Felix glanced around. They were in a stretch of unremarkable hallway, the same as much of the fortress. He sniffed, catching the faintest tang of something. “What am I smelling?”

“Metal,” Harn grunted, before pushing himself forward. He pressed through the ring of Eidolons and onward at a rapid, swinging pace.

Felix and Pit traded glances before hustling after him, their ring of protection ambling with them.

The further they went, the more Felix’s Perception snagged on things. The smell of metal grew, but now it was accompanied by the scent of ash. The next corner they turned revealed a gap in the corridor, where it ran across a wide open structure supported by heavily decorated columns. Through the opening were a series of low stone basins and tall furnaces choked with ash. Some had toppled over completely, filling the area with cracked stone and heavy metal panels covered in rust. Harn stood among them, taking it all in.

“It’s a forge,” Pit said.

Felix joined Harn, who was carefully running a hand over one of the many anvils. Tools were scattered about the ground, their wooden handles rotted away to almost nothing. “This is quite the place. Almost like the forge back in Elderthrone.”

“It’s very similar,” Harn said quietly. “I can feel it in the air.”

He made his way to the center of the space. The forge had the look of an industrial workspace, where a vast quantity of arms and armor were produced all at once. That made sense, in Felix’s eyes, as they would have likely been repairing or producing things for the Dragoons in large quantities.

“There are arrays inscribed into these anvils and across the ground,” Harn said, maneuvering himself across the debris. “Mostly for durability. Whatever was made here was designed to be tough above all else.”

“Were the fortresses similar to Strongholds?” Felix asked. “I guess I was assuming they were, based on the voice of this place responding to Authority.”

“This one at least, yeah. I don’t doubt the rest were too.”

“Wow, imagine a bunch of Strongholds like Elderthrone?” Pit whistled in appreciation. “That’d be handy to have. We should claim this one.”

“No, these are part of Vess’ Territory and a piece of Dragoon history. If anyone claims it, it’ll be her.” Not to mention Felix had no real Authority over the place, while Vess did. “Harn, do you—Where’d he go?”

Felix answered his own question almost immediately as he spotted the man entering an archway further into the forge. This part was enclosed, featuring a long corridor marked by several thick stone doors. They were sealed.

“Gonna need Vess to open these,” Harn grunted after shoving at one door unsuccessfully. “Seems like whatever magic this place still has is workin’ just fine here.”

Felix tilted his head, his Perception catching several familiar figures close by. “I think she’s just ahead. We can go ask her.”

“I’ll wait.” Harn was already running his hands across the stone, tracing out faint inscriptions.

“Eidolons, please wait with Commander Kastos,” Felix ordered. “I’ll be just ahead.”

The four of them rumbled and their chests flashed with some sort of magic, but Eagin inclined his giant head. “As you wish.”

“Don’t need babysitters,” Harn muttered at them. “But you’ve got good arms on ya. Wanna help me clear some of the junk in the forge?”

Orun’s stone face creased into a smile. “Gladly. All this walking and standing around is boring me to death.”

Felix and Pit continued on through the forge area and into a much wider space. He’d sensed it before, but Felix still found it extremely impressive as the relatively low ceiling suddenly gave way to an enormous, vaulted dome that stretched at least five hundred feet high. The corridors, which had always been quite large, suddenly expanded into a vast open courtyard of some sort.

A staging ground, maybe? With that being the forge, and these other buildings as some sort of support structure. Felix could see that, though he didn’t know much about what such a place would need to support it. Weapons and armor probably. Saddles? Dragons used saddles, right?

Why wouldn’t they? It’s a lot more comfortable than having a bunch of people jostling around on your back, that’s for sure, Pit sent.

Felix ruffled his doggy ears. Sorry bud. We’ll get you a new saddle and armor soon.

Four large hallways connected to the large courtyard, including the one he and Pit had come down before they’d stepped off into the forge. It was clear that this was the central point of this entire subterranean structure, and it was well appointed. More giant Dragon statues were built into the walls, rising high above the roofed buildings with regal expressions and spread wings. Those wings made up the surface of the vaulted ceiling, their bat-like structure serving dual purpose as the ribs in the dome. They lead the eye around the area, and most pointedly to the far end, where another pair of Dragons flanked a large set of doors.

“Lord Autarch, these seals are fascinating. Very similar to some of the work the Dwarves did, but different in a few minute ways. It’s incredible!” Laur was almost vibrating with excitement as the Elf pointed out parts of the giant doors, each bit glimmering as his power intersected with the sealing magic.

Tzfell was next to him, calmly studying the many carvings and words inscribed into the door’s surface. “It is quite ornate too. A lot of effort and skill went into making these doors.”

“Where do they go?” Felix asked. “Outside?”

“We believe so. It is heavily warded, but the magic is weakened greatly. Perhaps due to time or damage we cannot see on this side.”

“Look then, but don’t touch,” he instructed. “I’d rather have Vess take a look at it before we start unraveling things.”

“Of course, my Lord.” Tzfell pointed to a building just opposite of the forge. “She and her Companion went in there not long ago.”

“Thanks.”

They followed where the Chanter had pointed and entered a building that had an entirely different feel than the forge. Felix couldn’t put a finger on it exactly, but it was an unnerving sensation. Inside, beyond a short hall and a simple, but large courtyard, was a dark, circular chamber. A single mote of golden radiance bobbed in the air, painting the interior with a stark illumination. Vess and Yin stood there, inspecting a number of odd tables and platforms.

Felix cleared his throat lightly. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“We’ve found the hatchery,” Vess said, and her voice was tight.

“What remains of it,” Yin added.

His voice shook with a distant memory of thunder.

Felix’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, Manasight compensating for the bad lighting. Those tables and platforms were clearly designed to hold large spherical objects, and the pieces of inscription that remained legible spoke of heat and pressure, a stepped down version of the force sigil. What was upsetting were the huge rents and punctures in the tables.

“What happened here?” Pit asked in a small voice.

“Intentionally damaged,” Vess noted, tracing her hand along a deep gash. “The Dragoons didn’t want these to function again, whatever they were.”

“They were designed to heat and comfort the eggs laid by my brethren. We were often on the battlefield, so hatcheries like this were designed to care for our youngest and most vulnerable.” Yin shuddered, his overfed form falling heavily onto Vess’ shoulder. “To deface them in such a way… Why? Why did they turn on us, Vessilia?”

The hurt in the Wyrmling’s normally confident voice stabbed at Felix almost as much as his words. None of them had an answer.

A deep splintering crack resounded across the air, interrupting them all. It sounded like a redwood made of stone was splitting apart, and Felix didn’t need Laur’s panicked shouts to let him know the doors had opened. The fortress itself was clear on that.

Alert!

Breach In Progress.

30 Unidentified Assailants.

Containment Wards Depleted.

Defend, Dragoons.

We Stand Together.

The raiders had broken through.

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