Archemi Online Book #2: Trial by Fire - Prologue

If you came from RRL, you may have seen the old version of this chapter as the Epilogue of Dragon Seed. It was edited and is now the prologue of Trial by Fire - J.

Two hundred dragons were gathered in the hatching chamber of the Eyrie, and their moans and the rustle of agitated wings stirred the hot air as the man who had been Baldr Hyland marched toward the Matriarch’s nest of sand and stone.

The Matriarch was a sorry sight. Her semi-comatose bulk sheltered three rocking, chirping eggs, and she stared at Baldr and the other approaching knights-to-be with glassy, stupefied eyes.

You big ol’ dumb bitch, Baldr thought. “Throwing everything away on Hector, of all people.”

The last couple of days had taught Baldr a couple of things. Firstly, you never trusted the life of your enemies to Archemi’s A.I. He knew he should have predicted what had happened, but he’d let himself slip into believing the game was reality. The Knight Commander, the Matriarch, the monsters... they were here to support the players. Dumb players, smart players, casuals and hardcore gamers were all catered for by a network of realistic constructs who would generate their stories... and give them opportunities for agency. That meant slipups. It meant that Knight-Commander Arnaud had stuck Hector in a jail cell instead of killing him, giving him the opportunity to escape. If there was one thing Baldr could give Hector credit for, it was being good at running. Baldr had briefly forgotten that the only thing capable of taking a player out of the game was another player.

It was not a mistake he’d make again.

He’d already taken the time to brood on the error and process it. Now, all he cared about were the eggs, and the promise of the future he was destined for.

“Ready, pussy?” The giant ghost of a man whispered the message to Lucien in PM. “Which egg are you gonna take?”

“The small one,” Lucien shot back meekly. “But I’m telling you, Baldr, the dragons pick the player, not the-”

“I damn well know how it works.” Baldr flexed his hands by his thighs as they drew up at the edge of the great big sandpit the Matriarch used as her nest. "I damn well know."

Things had been different since Baldr had woken up in Cham Garai. The most obvious change was the stone in his forehead. It didn’t hurt, but he hadn’t been able to dig it out. He figured that if it didn’t hurt or cause any problems, well, it weren’t any of his concern. And other than some bad dreams, it hadn’t been. To the contrary. It felt like the best thing that had ever happened to him.

While they waited for the priests and the Knight-Commander to half-heartedly bless the eggs, Lucien fell in to Baldr’s right like a whipped dog, while Violetta hung back to his left. The blond sorceress glanced at him coyly, her eyes bright with trust and growing adoration. He had taken a different approach with her than he had with Lucien, who responded better to domination than charm. Baldr didn’t question his sudden knowledge of operant conditioning any more than he questioned his knowledge of the game, or his new-found superpower: the ability to access a view-only version of the Developer Console.

“Please, Lord Hyland. Lucien Stoker, Violetta D’Arcy... advance.” Knight-Commander Arnaud called to them, and he and the priest of Liric stepped back from the eggs. Both of them were struggling not to stare at Baldr.

Baldr grunted and strode confidently toward his chosen egg - the big silver one. He knew it contained a Tier 7 platinum male dragon, a creature one level higher than the Knight-Commander’s ‘model’ white male, Talenth. Short of a queen dragon, it was one of the best mounts in the game... once it was mature.

“And that’s going to take too damn long.” Baldr approached the egg, grinding his teeth in frustration, and lay a hand on the hot shell.

No matter how much he tried to compose himself, he was pissed off. The brain-dead Matriarch been hiding one of those queens… the mount that should have been his. But with the clan’s queen down for the count, there weren’t going to be any more queens born in the Eyrie. Queens were the sole Tier 8 mount in Archemi. Worse, only queens could breed more queens, and only then with a Tier 6 or 7 male. So the plan had changed: Baldr would get the best dragon on offer for now, then go and find Hector and his princess. They’d bring the queen back her and get her to lay. The odds of breeding this platinum dragon to her were pretty good - around 15%. Eventually, he’d get the Tier 8 he’d been waiting years to acquire.

... Years? Woah there, big guy. What?

Baldr grimaced as his head throbbed.

Whatever thought had been about to come next was interrupted by the baby dragon. He felt it tapping under his palm, then the crunch as its beak began to fracture the shell. Baldr took a step back, zoning in on the egg as it rocked and split. The adult dragons would normally cheer at a hatching, buzzing their wings and roaring encouragement, but the hatching grounds were eerily silent as the three hatchlings struggled out of their shells. Out of the corner of his eye, Baldr saw Violetta’s blue egg shatter, while Lucien began pulling pieces of shell off his struggling white.

“That’s it, lil’ buddy.” Baldr crooned, eyes fixed on his struggling hatchling. “You can do it.”

Pieces of shell fell away, and then the dragon’s sharp egg tooth split the leathery sack binding him inside, tearing through it like a boxcutter. Fluid spilled out, and then all in a rush, the hatchling slithered out onto the sands like a sculpture of living mercury. Smiling, Baldr crouched down in front of the panting, flapping dragon,helping him orientate himself. The Developer Console told Baldr that this Tier 7 male had great stats, just like he’d thought. No... known.

The dragon trilled as he beat his sticky wings and pushed himself up to sit. His nostrils flared: he was blind, his eyes still sealed with mucous. To the left, Violetta cried out as her Tier 6 blue female toppled to the ground in exhaustion. Lucien was frantically assisting his much weaker Tier 4 female out of her egg. The little white panted and chirped, blundering into her future rider and knocking him to the dirt.

“Hey there, little guy.” Baldr reached out to his own dragon as the hatchling pawed at his eyes, and helped him unseal the lids with a fingernail. The platinum staggered forward, lurching in against him in a shivering heap of wings and scales, and finally opened his eyes. They were the brilliant white of a lightning strike, churning with the magic contained in his blood. Baldr’s breath caught as their gazes locked, and in an instant, the psychic connection was forged.

The little dragon’s jaw hung open with shock. Then he backpedaled, whining, and tripped over the tip of one drooping wing.

Baldr halted his retreat with a thought, and hatchling’s will buckled underneath his own. The geas that bound the dragon to serve the Knights of Saint Grigori had weakened, but it was still in effect. The magic was bound to Lirenian’s line, and as long as a queen lived, the geas would hold. Baldr knew of the existence of the geas as well as everything else about this place - the details of the magic, the location of the Dragon Gate, the way the magic transferred to each knight-commander. He knew everything, because he’d designed it.

For a moment, Baldr was confused by his own thought. Then his temples throbbed, and the moment of confusion passed. Frowning, he rubbed his brow, and squeezed the skin around the pearl embedded there. Yeah, that’s right… I designed this place. Of course he had. He remembered doing it.

The fog receded, and Baldr opened his eyes to stare down at his hatchling. “Your name’s Bareon.”

“Bareon?” The wyrmling echoed. “But–”

“That’s your name, son.” Baldr kept his gaze fixed with that of the newly-hatched dragon’s.

“Bareon,” the dragon echoed numbly. “And you... you’re...”

Bareon didn’t finished, too terrified to speak the name he read in Baldr’s mind.

“That was my old name,” he drawled. “Baldr’ll do for now. But you? You call me sir, boy. Only words I ever want to hear out of your scaly mouth are ‘yes, sir’ and some questions. Respectful questions. Understood?”

Bareon swayed in place. His hatchling instincts were telling him to seal the bond with touch and beg for food, like a baby bird. His common sense was telling him to run.“Yes sir.”

“Right. Now, let’s go see about getting you grown.”

Bareon swallowed, looking up at Baldr hopefully. “Are we getting some food? Sir?”

Baldr looked down at him, and smiled a thin, patient smile. “Yep. We sure are. And I'm going to make sure you to grow up big and strong.”