Valkyrie's Shadow

Chapter 4

Hejinmal, as it turned out, could actually fly.

Ilyshn’ish could only watch in horrified fascination as her brother crawled out of the city through the main access shaft. She wondered if he would get stuck along the way but he didn’t, to her slight disappointment. Sometime later, they emerged on the surface and crawled up onto a wall of the city’s trading outpost. Below, a steep valley stretched on, its depths shrouded by icy clouds and blowing snow.

Hejinmal pushed off of the wall and wobbled away ponderously into the sky. Ilyshn’ish looked around cautiously one last time for potential ambushes along the flight path before taking wing herself.

It was a matter of seconds before she caught up with her brother. Hejinmal struggled mightily, working just as hard to stay aloft as he did accelerating forward. It took nearly ten minutes until he finally picked up enough speed for his wings to keep himself level with the continued effort. Still, he was absurdly slow: flying at only a third of what Ilyshn’ish considered a leisurely pace. She sighed and pulled ahead of him, allowing him to pick up a bit more speed by following in her slipstream. It took nearly two hours to finally rise above the peaks to relative safety.

Ilyshn’ish turned her head back to speak to Hejinmal.

“In which direction are we going?” She asked.

Hejinmal’s only reply for a long while was his laboured breathing before he puffed out a breathless response.

“South…” he huffed, “past foothills…three…concentric circles in…the lowlands.”

After hearing her brother’s directions, Ilyshn’ish banked southwards and ascended a few thousand additional metres before setting into a relaxed glide. From her altitude, she had a view of the region’s landscape to the east and the west, they were still too far north to spot anything beyond the spine of icy peaks to the south. Ilyshn’ish had ranged the length and breadth of the Azerlisia Mountains and out into the seas of the north, but she had little experience beyond.

Once, she had ventured past the foothills on the eastern slopes but was immediately met with opposition. Shortly after she crossed over the low-lying forests, a half dozen Hippogriffs with small figures riding them appeared from below to ascend in her direction. She didn’t want to know what would happen if they somehow managed to get close, so she returned to the mountains. Plagued by doubts over how safe it was to travel, she had not tried to leave again even after several decades had passed. Home was dangerous enough as it was; beyond was possibly far worse.

It took them over two days to reach the beginning of the southern foothills due to Hejinmal’s sluggish pace, but, even with the long hours to settle her nerves as they glided safely high over the mountain peaks, her last memory of attempting to explore the lowlands remained at the forefront of her mind. The formation of Hippogriffs from back then certainly seemed aggressive. The riders, too, she sensed were each equipped with a small panoply of magic items. What if it happened again? She had very little confidence against so many unknown assailants.

Even as she scanned the terrain below with the worrying thoughts in mind, six dark figures appeared from the canopy below and to the east. They ascended directly towards Ilyshn’ish and her brother; it only took a moment to register their features. They were about half again as tall as Quagoa, but much thinner. Dressed in black robes and holding gnarled wooden staves, crimson points of light stared intensely in their direction from skulls wrapped in desiccated flesh.

Undead.

Though many Undead were capable of flight, they had the look of corporeal magic casters. They appeared too strong to be Skeleton Mages, so…Elder Liches? Once in a while, a Skeleton Mage or an Elder Lich manifested in the Azerlisia Mountains: in the valleys and passes that hosted the timeless conflicts and savage struggles between the numerous species making the range their home. They didn’t survive for long, however, becoming target practice for Frost Giants.

Individually, she sensed that they were weaker than her, but she still couldn’t beat six of them at once.

“S-sister?” Hejinmal's surprised voice came from below.

Ilyshn’ish looked down and realized that, while she was assessing the situation, she had unconsciously increased her altitude to gain time to think. Hejinmal rapidly fell behind as he no longer had the benefit of being in her slipstream, and he steadily dipped lower and lower in an increasingly futile effort to maintain his speed. It occurred to her that she could simply use her brother, so she watched as he fell further and further behind. Once the Elder Liches caught up with him, she would know whether they intended to collect them for experiments or materials.

It took about another hour for the Elder Liches to reach Hejinmal’s altitude and surround him, with Ilyshn’ish weaving high above as she awaited his fate. Due to the time it took for them to do so, she understood that they were limited to flight magic, and they were utterly incapable of actually catching her, should she choose to escape.

She didn’t know why, but the flight spells commonly used by magic casters conferred a set speed to whomever they enchanted, and many creatures capable of natural flight were far faster than what a magic caster using the spell could achieve. She estimated that she could fly many times faster than the Elder Liches that were pursuing them, so she relaxed and continued to glide well out of spell range.

Ilyshn’ish watched as Hejinmal looked around himself nervously, but he did not seem to be preparing to fight. His mouth moved as he said something she was too far to hear, and the formation of Undead mages split away and descended back towards where they had appeared. She tucked in her wings and dove towards her brother, levelling out behind him and slowing herself before assuming her position in front again.

“What was that all about?” She asked.

“It was a border patrol,” he answered. “They came up to see what our business was.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before I flew off?”

“I didn’t notice them, actually,” he laughed nervously. “They gave me quite the scare when they suddenly appeared around me…I suppose that’s why you left me behind.”

“Yes,” she replied. “I figured that I would find out whether they were hostile or not by watching what happened after they caught up with you.”

“Oh. Well, that makes sense.”

“Shutting yourself in for a century has dulled your instincts, brother. I hope that you now know the meaning behind father’s words.”

Their father always said the same thing to Hejinmal, who had shut himself away with his tomes and parchments to learn about the world. No matter how much they argued through the door, it would always end with the same advice: If you want to acquire knowledge, leave this place and travel the world.

A downcast expression fell over Hejinmal’s form; a tone of regret filled his voice.

“I do now, yes,” her brother said. “I always thought he was just unreasonably threatening me with something I dreaded, but I guess he really did care. I learn things a thousand times faster when I experience them directly. I guess that's just how we are, and he wanted me to understand that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you do.”

“I just wish I could apologize – to admit that he was right…but now, he’s gone.”

“Apologize?” Ilyshn’ish sneered, “Don’t tell me that you have even more useless thoughts bouncing around in that bouncy head of yours. Don’t waste your energy wishing for pointless things – no one wants your apologies. You should know as well as I what mother and father want.”

“Hmm…I’m not sure if you should be saying anything along those lines out in the open, sister. Becoming stronger is one thing, but I’m pretty sure we’ll never become so strong that any of us can claim dominion now.”

It seemed like prudent advice, at least until she could figure out the difference in strength between herself and this new Dragon Lord. There was no point in rushing anyways – if Olasird’arc had been slain so easily, she thought it would take at least a millennium to even consider such ideas. Until then, she could explore and learn to her heart’s content.

To her left, a circular structure on the ground drew her attention. It wasn’t three circles, though.

“What’s that?”

“That?” Hejinmal followed her gaze, “Oh, that. It’s the lair of our new ruler. You’ll probably see it up close sooner or later.”

Ilyshn’ish frowned. If a Dragon Lord had made his lair this close by, how did they not know about him? Distant lands aside, they should have sensed that the territory of another Dragon was right next to their own.

A cluster of structures passed below them, arrayed in circuits around a central group of buildings.

“How about all this below us?”

“That’s Carne,” Hejinmal replied, “a Human settlement. Well, they said that but it seems to be mostly Goblins and a handful of other Demihumans.”

“Are they slaves?”

“It doesn’t seem like it from up here. Slavery is against the law in this nation, anyways.”

“The law?” Ilyshn’ish said as she continued to observe the goings-on below, “You mean those things like rules?”

“Yes, dear sister.”

Their father had rules as well. Rules for the Dragons, rules for the Quagoa. Ilyshn’ish wondered what sort of rules were applied to Dragons in this new place. Slaves were useful for gathering treasure and dealing with menial odds and ends beneath the notice of their masters. Surely it was the lesser beings who were not allowed slaves, to keep them from becoming full of themselves and gaining undeserved wealth.

Ahead of them, she saw what she thought was what her brother had referred to. It wasn’t as grand as Feoh Berkana, but what she saw on the surface was many times larger than the Dwarf capital’s trading outpost on the surface. Considering this, what lay underground must be truly colossal. The three circles were three stone walls. The centre of the city, along with most of its inner ring, glimmered with light in the darkness. The outer section was dark, as well as a portion of the inner ring which seemed to be nearly bare of buildings. Hejinmal descended, but she remained high above to examine what lay below.

Many Quagoa-like creatures milled about, but they all seemed to wear some adornment like the Quagoa leader or what she imitated on her Dwarven self. Like the vast majority of land creatures, they seldom looked up. After she was satisfied that she had seen enough, Ilyshn’ish descended to a portion of the wall where she sensed other Dragons. She alighted on a frosted-over area and saw several of her siblings within some sort of stone construction.

At the entrance, two small figures stood behind a table. She sniffed at their pale bodies: they were…female? Their scent was cloaked under a much stronger perfume, but their features seemed like what races like Dwarves would consider female. They were also dead. First Elder Liches, now Undead female creatures. The Undead females looked up at her with their glowing, crimson eyes.

“Where is your number?” One of them asked.

“M-my number?”

The plain-sounding reaction to her appearance was unexpected. Usually, when a Dragon swooped down, those below would panic and make all sorts of noises.

The two Undead females exchanged glances. Ilyshn’ish sensed that they were roughly as strong as the other Dragons in her generation, making them weaker than she was. Even if it came to blows, she could always just flee if things didn’t turn out well.

“Then what is your name?” The same female asked as the other pulled out a book and opened it over the table.

“Why are you demanding my name?”

Ilyshn’ish was immediately suspicious. They stared at each other across the table for a long while before a third Undead female walked out from within the building, holding a wooden clipboard.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

“It has no number,” one replied.

“It has no name,” said the other.

“It has no bag,” the newcomer noted and looked down at her clipboard. “All eighteen are accounted for…”

They all looked to Ilyshn’ish and tilted their heads in unison.

“She doesn’t belong.”

“An intruder?”

“We should kill her?”

“Woah!” Ilyshn’ish hunkered down defensively, “How did that escalate so quickly? What do you mean I don’t belong? That’s my brood in there.”

“Brood?”

“Kin.”

“Blood.”

The one with the clipboard tapped her cheek for a moment before looking up at her again.

“Whose spawn are you?”

“S-spawn?” Ilyshn’ish felt her tail twitch, “Couldn’t you have put it in some better way? If you must know, I am Kilistran’s daughter.”

The Undead female looked back down to her clipboard again, scanning through the pages attached to it. Without a word, she turned away and walked back into the shelter. Roughly halfway through, she stopped and turned to speak to someone out of sight and Kilistran stretched her neck out to look in Ilyshn’ish’s direction. After a brief conversation and a slow nod from Ilyshn’ish’s mother, the Undead female made her way back towards them.

“She claims that she is what she claims,” the female produced some instrument and began to write something down.

“Nineteen, yes?” The first asked.

“There’s no badge for that,” said the second.

“Use the spare ‘nine’,” the third said.

The second female produced a white hexagonal plaque with an unpolished wooden frame; Ilyshn’ish sensed that it was of little value. Placing it face up on the table, the Undead female produced her own writing instrument and squeezed a ‘1’ in front of the ‘9’. The thickness of the character did not match the other, and after several attempts to make the digit more substantial, the Undead female held it out to Ilyshn’ish.

Ilyshn’ish sniffed at the plaque again – what little value it held had deteriorated even further from being scribbled on.

“What’s this for?”

“Identification.”

“Identification? I already have a name.”

“And now you have a number.”

Ilyshn’ish peered down in irritation at the female, but it looked blithely on. Rather than argue over the useless thing, Ilyshn’ish moved on to a more important topic.

“What about my bag?”

The three females exchanged glances again before the third spoke.

“Infinite Haversacks, along with all other articles, are not granted until training and orientation are complete.”

There was more? Hejinmal had not said anything beyond the valuable bags…

Another detail caught her attention.

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘training and orientation’?”

Rather than provide any real answer, the third female turned back towards the shelter.

“Follow me,” she said before walking away.

Ilyshn’ish looked to the first two, who no longer paid her any attention, then followed after the one who she thought would lead her to what she wanted. The shelter built along the wall consisted of a row of alcoves; each appeared to contain a Frost Dragon. Most lay despondent with their eyes closed or stared dully at nothing in particular. A layer of rime coated the floor, and the lack of possessions over the bare stones left a sad and lonely impression on her as she made her way along.

The Undead female came to a stop before the alcove that Kilistran had poked her head out of.

“This one requires orientation,” the Undead female told Ilyshn’ish’s mother. “Report to the front desk once she’s familiarized with the new procedures.”

Without waiting for a response, the Undead female returned up the corridor. Ilyshn’ish looked to her mother, then to the Undead female, then back again.

“It is good to see you well, daughter,” Kilistran said in dreary tones.

“I hardly recognize you, mother,” Ilyshn’ish flexed her claws over the stone floor. “Why are you here? Why are you acting so meek around these…these…”

“Vampire Brides,” her mother offered.

“Whatever. They’re so much weaker than you – plus you wield divine magic. How can you allow them to address you like that?”

“I know that they are much weaker, but their mistress is so, so much more stronger.”

“Mistress? Not master? What about this Ainz Ooal Gown fellow?”

Ilyshn’ish’s tail swished over the icy stone floor, and she awaited any useful tidbit about the powerful Dragon Lord.

“Ainz Ooal Gown is the master of their mistress…I suppose Hejinmal found you and told you what happened.”

“He said that father was slain easily,” Ilyshn’ish frowned, “though I cannot imagine how. He’s always been one to make mountains out of molehills.”

“He wasn’t exaggerating,” Kilistran sighed. “Olasird’arc died right in front of me – as far as I am from you right now. The other brood mothers were there to witness it too.”

“Then tell me: how was an Ancient Dragon slain so easily? Was he laid low by some powerful artifact?”

“It was a spell.”

“A spell?” Ilyshn’ish scoffed, “How can that be? Unless it was the fabled magic of our ancestors…then I suppose it would make sense. The magic of the present, however, cannot do such a thing.”

“That I do not know,” Kilistran said. “My poor, sweet daughter…you were not there, so I imagine that you will need to suffer a bit to understand.”

Ilyshn’ish scowled at her. Seeing her mighty parent so cowed and stuffed in what looked very much like some sort of stall, bereft of any treasure, was both disturbing and repulsive. Everyone else received the same treatment as well, as far as she had witnessed.

“When I see Hejinmal again,” Ilyshn’ish muttered, “I’m going to break his tail.”

Kilistran’s head perked up at the mention of his name.

“You shouldn’t give your brother such a hard time,” she said.

“And why is that?” Ilyshn’ish’s voice grated, “This is nothing like he suggested – you’ve all been crammed into these…these…”

“Pens.”

“They even call them pens!” Ilyshn’ish shouted, “This is insane!”

“He saved us all,” her mother’s tone was unchanged, “just so you know. If not for him, many others would have been slain – including me. You should be nicer to your brother."

“Well good for you, but that means nothing to me. Maybe I’ll add a knot or two for extra measure, wasting my time like this…”

A familiar chonking sound drew close.

“Ah, sister!” Hejinmal said cheerfully, “I found this instrument in front of your room…”

Ilyshn’ish turned and beamed at her sibling.

“Have I ever told you just how much I love you, dear brother?”

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