[Hlaeth] Ch 17 - In Cold Blood

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            “As it was, the Archmage managed to draw in the Mazakeem at the end, who also feast on such creatures, and they were happy to start feeding on it as it wanted to feed on us. It had no choice but to let us go and attempt to save itself from them.”

            We walked through the trees and shrubs and flowers and ponds, me idly reading tales and legends and sayings carved into everything for the discerning eye, even the artwork telling stories if you knew how to interpret it, my Polyglot pinging on just about everything I could regard, even if I had to rely on Feature for colors.

            “Master Aelryinth,” Captain Fyanyl spoke up hesitantly again. “You inferred that it has been only ten years since the Fall of your world…”

            “Time streams of alternate realities move faster or slower than they do there. At the time I stepped off-world there, and before I was sent to the far edges of Creation, that is true. It has been a good year since I’ve been back in my personal time, although how much that will be when I get home is another matter.”

            “But… that means you’ve only been using magic for ten years,” she pointed out in almost a whisper.

            The eyes of the dragons grew very large, indeed, when they realized that, staring at me in shock and disbelief.

            I was unperturbed. “The great power of elves is long years and a natural tie to the magic of the world. They grow into magical power and harmony with the Land with grace and elegance. The great power of dragons is ancestral might inherited on all levels, which they do not have to work for; they simply have to grow older and they inherit greatness.

            “The great power of humans is that we learn and adapt quickly. That is our racial strength. We can achieve in years, sometimes even months, what might take an elf or dragon decades or even centuries.

            “If we burn out quickly, we can learn to burn very brightly, indeed. We merely have to work for it.” I paused significantly. “Killing seven billion undead is a lot of work we had to burn very brightly to succeed at,” I noted diplomatically.

            “Such growth in power is unnatural,” Gold Urblingfoa, the youngest of the Wyrms, spoke up in dismay.

            I just laughed shortly. “Going to sleep and waking up in a few decades smarter, wiser, bigger, stronger, with more magical power and more knowledge than when you went to sleep, is extremely magical and very unnatural, Elder, as you can doubtless tell when you consider dragons next to every other creature in the world.” The Gold Wyrm actually blinked in astonishment at the rebuke. “Dragons do not set the standard for what is natural, Elder. They set the standard for what is magical.

            “Dragons are far, far past the point of being natural.”

            “With not a single dragon on your homeworld?” Copper Rimbiter asked quickly. “Then how did you acquire your Dragon-name?”

            “How long do you think you could survive in a Dead Magic Zone, Elder?” I replied calmly, and the Copper Wyrm’s elvish face turned pensive. “That was the whole world.” I waved my hand about the gardens, formed and shaped and maintained by magic, Glamour bringing out accents and shades to it that delighted the eye and ear. “A dragon on my homeworld would have died of mana-deprivation or been consigned to torpor until magic rose to a level one of you could be sustained at.

            “As for the dragons I’ve faced and who gave me that name, know that out there in the cosmos of the many worlds, there is a realm of Dragons known as the Empire of Cold Blood. This empire spans multiple worlds, marching from planet to planet, conquering them, exiling away the native gods, and dominating all inhabitants thereof. They wipe away or kill much of the mammalian life, seeing them as competitors and prey. Their Wyrms are always seeking new lands for their own, their Dragons seeking new places to raise their young, and the Spawn have voracious appetites that must be satisfied.

            “This Empire of Cold Blood learned of our world, came to it, set themselves up, and began their takeover with leisurely confidence, certain of their victory since us natives of the world had been forced to cede so much of it already, and the other intruding forces were scattered, disorganized, quarreling among themselves, and no danger or threat.”

            “And-?” prompted Elder Rimbiter when I paused, smiling at having to ask the question and appreciating a proper storyteller’s pacing.

            “We killed them all once we knew they were on Earth. We tracked them back to their land of operation, and wiped out every single one of them, chasing them across the planet if required.”

            I idly popped up the Holo of the island nation they’d ripped up from the Earth’s mantle and made into their own lost land of dinosaurs and Dragonbloods, as well as the corpses of many, many dragons of all sizes splayed out over the wilds, crude stone cities for their reptilian servants, and their ornate and mighty lairs and hoards.

            They all tilted their heads back to look up at the true size and majesty of the two-headed Great Wyrm in charge of the efforts of the Empire on Terra-Luna, and they all recognized him from Mortus Dius, too.

            “Every dragon on your world?” Elder Rimbiter repeated speculatively.

            “They still continue to arrive by other means, generally taking shortcuts through the Never-Never of the Fey. But we are watching and waiting for them.” I did give them all speculative glances. “And no, there were no Enlightened dragons among them, although the Jeweled were rare presences here and there… and were also contributing members of the Empire. We killed them alongside their Chromatic kin. You are actually the first dragons I have ever met of your kinds.”

            “There are no Enlightened in this Empire of Cold Blood?” Elder Coronus asked sharply.

            “Neither we nor the Mentos who fled from them across multiple worlds ever reported meeting one, Elder Coronus,” I replied to the Gold Wyrm calmly.

            It was time for the dragons to exchange glances with one another, the implications not lost on them. “This manner of behavior is not unexpected among our kin,” Silver Elder Styllari said softly. 

            “To be expected, rather,” Elder Rimbiter interjected with a sniff. “That is why we have to kill the Chromatic so often, you know.”

            All of the dragons nodded together, at once reluctant and icily determined.

            “To see that they have reached such a level of cooperation amongst themselves, and have slain all of the Enlightened who might defy them…” Elder Coronus was clearly not very happy at the moment.

            I flicked up a miniature version of the two-headed Great Wyrm, black and red and clearly showing hints of a demonic nature. “Other-planar sponsorship, potentially divine Bloodlines,” I pointed out smoothly. “They’ve both demonic and diabolic contacts, we have encountered both, and the Jeweled seem to arbitrate among them and keep the violence to a minimum. Their aggression they turn towards all non-dragons, particularly mammalian life, and claiming new worlds for themselves. I imagine whole new planets to claim is both excellent population control, killing a lot of Spawn and Dragons, and you don’t need to fight other dragons for territory if there’s a whole lot for the taking right over there.” I waved airily at nothing special in the distance, yet encompassing everything.

            The elves winced at the implications.

            “An Empire can only sustain itself by expanding. If the expansion is stopped, the internal conflicts that plague the Chromatics will immediately start up again,” Elder Styllaris stated promptly.

            I waved acknowledgment in her direction. “Very true. But that is something that would take being stifled for draconic generations, which are inordinately long for us, and it is probably not an overestimation to say that stifling a worlds-spanning empire of dragons is not at all easy.”

            That earned some grimly soft chuckles from all of them. No, that probably would not be easy…

            “You seem to have succeeded, where other worlds failed?” the Brass Wyrm Laufengel piped up curiously.

            “We shattered the only existing Gate between their Empire and our world… with a Klein Bomb.” The faces of the Wyrms flushed, picturing that being used. “Dragons not having an urgent sense of time, they’ve not seen fit to make another from their end, and we are waiting for it to appear on our side. There are… defenses in place to delay the establishment of such a Gate on a temporal level. 

            “If and when the Empire of Cold Blood opens another Gate, it is going to be right into the teeth of a force waiting for it, and ready, willing, and able to Klein it again. The results will be graphic, not very pretty, and probably disincline those dragons who remain interested in us from wanting to use the same tactic.

            “In the meantime, if they come through the Never-Never, it is in ones and twos, and we have to deal with them as they arrive. There is a very committed force of dragon-slayers devoted to stopping them, my wife and I merely being two of them. We will Teleport across the face of the world to join the fight against a dragon and bring it down. We are not allowing them any foothold on our world… which is probably delaying the establishment of a Gate, as there is no dragon on this side to secure its existence.

            “Dragons do not survive on Terra-Luna overlong, Elders.” It was a grim statement that silenced them for a few minutes as we strolled along.

            “Would you be open to Enlightened dragons, were they to arrive?” Laufengel asked, almost daring me to say no.

            “I do not know, Elder,” I replied simply. “Our experiences and those of the Land at the hands of dragons have been uniformly negative, ranging all the way to horrific. While we might be inclined to offer the Enlightened a chance, we also aren’t going to accept your natural attempts to dominate us. If there is any friction, you’re going to be asked to leave, and if you don’t want to, matters will come quickly to a head.

            “There’s also the profit motive, which will probably make you uncomfortable.”

            “Profit… motive?” Bronze Clangrill repeated carefully.

            “As Wyrms, the value of your dead bodies probably exceed the value of your hoards to us,” I said calmly, walking on unperturbed. “There is almost no portion of a dragon that does not have value, and we know how to use pretty much all of them. Bringing out all the value of draconic parts is something of an Alchemical specialization among us. We’ve gotten very, very good at it.

            “Picture carrying around your entire hoards with yourselves all the time, daring others to take a run at them. That’s basically what a dragon is to us, a walking and talking hoard of loot waiting to be put to the sword and profited from.

            “Your actual hoards? Those are just curiosities. I could dump a dragon’s hoard into the demands of my Allegiance every day and it would just vanish in Burning precious metal and gemstones without being noticed.”

            The expressions of the Wyrms were odd. They weren’t opposed to the corpses of dragons being used for other purposes, or even eaten. It was the way of the world. But to be considered walking hoards themselves by the eager and the greedy was a bit different than thieves lusting after themselves instead of their treasures.

            “And is this how you see us? As treasures to be claimed,” Elder Clangrill sniffed in displeasure.

            “No, but it is something that I am aware of, as aware as you are of calculating everything I and the two elves behind us are wearing, and how such would contribute to the esteem of your own hoards.”

            The Wyrms certainly didn’t flush slightly at being caught out at their own assessments of such things, but it was as natural to them as breathing. It simply wasn’t thrown into their faces like I had so lightly.

            “And how does the value of a dragon break down?” the irrepressible Rimbiter asked brightly. “I would deign to know how valuable I am!” he asked in mock aloofness.

            I turned my head slightly. “I don’t know the exact values of a Wyrm of your species, as we’ve never killed one of your kind. Here are the values of a Black Mire Dragon for comparison.”

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