The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon - Chapter 48: The Princess And The Unicorn
Swiftstride watched his mistress leave with Doomwing.
The winged unicorn had never felt so utterly useless. Antaria could fly now. What need did she have for him? Perhaps she couldn’t fly as swiftly as him yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. She had improved so quickly at everything else. It wouldn’t be long before she was better at flying than him too.
He knew that one day he would no longer be able to serve as her mount. Unicorns… unicorns were creatures of purity, and that meant there were severe restrictions upon whom they could carry into battle. If fate was kind, Antaria would one day marry and have children of her own. She would be a good mother, and Doomwing’s domain would be a fine place to raise children.
After all, who would dare to attack the domain of a primordial dragon?
But until those days came, Swiftstride had hoped to stay by her side, to serve her faithfully. And then, years from now, he would serve her children.
But what service could he offer when she had found a way to do the one thing he did better than her?
“Your moping is pathetic,” Corundum said. The doppelganger’s eyes gleamed. “You have two choices before you, unicorn. You may mope, as your species is so fond of, or you can fight to become useful. Which shall it be?”
Swiftstride knew that his training had not been as difficult as his mistress’s. He knew that he had not been pushed as hard or as fast, and he knew that part of that was his fault. For all that Doomwing’s training was brutal, he had given Swiftstride a choice. He could be pushed the same way Antaria had been, or he could receive training more in line with what he was used to. The latter would be hard, yes, but he would not face death the way Antaria had.
Like a coward, he had chosen the easier option.
No longer.
He turned to the doppelganger and nodded his assent. He had dawdled long enough. If his mistress could put her life on the line, how could he do anything less and expect to stand at her side?
“It seems you do have some courage after all,” Corundum said. “Not bad for a unicorn. But we’ll see how long that resolve lasts.” He took to the skies. “Follow me.”
They flew south over Doomwing’s domain until eventually they reached the sea. There, they passed over a village of tiger-people. There was another doppelganger there, and he and Corundum exchanged a few brief words before they continued out over the open sea.
“When the First Gods fell to the Broken God, they did not fall alone.” Corundum’s gaze turned wistful. “Dragons flew beside them, and they fell in such numbers that their broken scales were like rain. But there were others there too, your ancient kinsmen amongst them. For all that I find many of your current kin cowardly, content to dwell in their woods and pass judgement on others as though they possibly understand what goes on beyond their sheltered homes, I will say that your ancestors were worthy of praise. Hopelessly outmatched, they still answered the call, and they paid for their loyalty with their lives. Dragons they were not, but courage and loyalty should still be respected, regardless of the species involved.”
Swiftstride nodded sombrely. He had no real memory of those events, not the way Doomwing did. All he had were fragmented, broken tales passed down amongst his kind. But Doomwing had been there. He had seen the Broken God and witnessed the devastation wrought upon the First Gods and their allies. For Corundum to praise those long-dead unicorns was the highest praise they could receive.
“The first unicorns could not fly, for they had no wings. Your kind was born from unions between unicorns and pegasi. In time, they grew numerous enough to be considered their own people, similar to how the winged serpents of today can trace their origins back to dragons and leviathans.” Corundum growled. “Of course, none of your kind were ever so foolish as them. They should consider themselves lucky to still exist. Had some of them not sided with us in the Third Age…” He shook his head. “You are fortunate. One of your ancestors was… unusual.”
Swiftstride’s eyes narrowed. What did he mean by that?
“You cannot sense it. That blood has grown thin over the generations, but it is there. If it is strength you seek, the power to stand at your mistress’s side and serve her with courage and honour, then that blood, thin though it may have grown, may be your best hope.”
Corundum’s gaze drifted to the east. A storm had gathered, black clouds rising up to form mountains in the sky that were riven by the crack of lightning and the boom of thunder. The waves below were towering walls of water that soared and crashed with the weight and force of avalanches. And yet… was that fire amidst the clouds?
Swiftstride’s body thrummed, every hair standing on end. That was no natural storm, and it was turning toward them. No. He realised. It was turning toward him.
“One of your ancestors was a qilin,” Corundum said. “That qilin. As thin as his blood may have grown within you, he would never fail to recognise it.” The doppelganger chuckled. “You want strength? Ask him for it… but realise you will have to prove yourself.”
In almost no time at all, the storm was upon them. Lightning raged, great forks of electricity that crackled amongst the clouds and between the sea and sky. The roar of thunder was almost enough to fling Swiftstride from the sky, and the wind was a hammer driving needles of rain into his flesh.
And amidst the storm, striding boldly through the clouds, was the qilin. The qilin was… majestic, a creature larger than any unicorn or pegasus that Swiftstride had ever seen. He was part deer, part horse, and seemingly even part dragon. Lightning danced over his body, and flame bloomed wherever his hooves stepped upon the air.
Power rolled off the creature, and Swiftstride’s heart raced in his chest. If the qilin attacked, not even Corundum would be able to protect him – that was how powerful the qilin was. Yet the qilin’s gaze held no trace of fury. Instead, he was serene, utterly at ease, and as he drew closer, Swiftstride realised that, despite the violence of the storm around them, around the qilin, the winds were calm and the sky was clear. Upon his head was a single, shining horn that held all the power and might of a storm alongside the fury and wrath of a wildfire.
“You are a lot smaller than I remember, Doomwing,” the qilin said.
“And you are as small as I remember, Leishen,” Corundum replied. “As for me… I am a doppelganger. Doomwing himself is elsewhere. I use the name Corundum.”
Leishen’s eyes – pools of fire and thunder – gleamed. “It would seem his skills have improved even further. I have a descendant who might benefit from his teaching – or from yours.”
“Perhaps. If you think them worthy, then send them to me.” Corundum nodded at Swiftstride. “You know why we are here.”
“He is one of mine,” Leishen murmured, and the storm gave an ominous rumble around them. Sparks drifted from his mane to light up the darkened sky. “But my blood in him is thin… very thin.”
“Yet it is there,” Corundum replied. “He seeks strength.”
“For what purpose?” Leishen asked. “I am a qilin. I will not give power to a fool or a tyrant. You know this.”
Swiftstride mustered his courage and flew forward. He could barely keep his wings beating in the qilin’s presence. It made him wonder what would happen if Doomwing ever unleashed his strength in full. Would he simply be crushed under the weight of the dragon’s power? He bowed his head to the qilin and then did his best to explain.
“You seek power to serve another?” Leishen’s lips curled. “Interesting… but is the one you wish to serve worthy of your service?”
Swiftstride came to Antaria’s defence. She was worthy. Even Doomwing had deemed her so.
“Hmm… interesting. But her worthiness does not make you worthy.” Leishen hooves stamped the air. “I shall test you myself. Prepare yourself.”
Corundum waited on the beach as Haitao looked from him to Brother Dragon. The little water salamander seemed to find the comparison between the two of them fascinating since he had spent most of his time trying to find differences between them. He had even gone so far as to try licking them, which Corundum had only tolerated because salamanders were simple-minded fools who nevertheless had their hearts in the right place. Besides, Haitao had only done that once before deciding it was a bad idea.
“Is that okay?” Xiang asked, pointing to the storm that raged on the horizon. Even from this distance, they could see the flash of lightning and the gleam of flame.
“The winged unicorn I came with – Swiftstride – is being tested by a qilin,” Corundum replied. “Qilin are many things, but they are not vicious or cruel.”
Brother Dragon nodded. “In the days of old when the First Gods still walked the world, they were peaceful creatures. Their storms brought wind, and rain, and lightning, but none were ever harmed. When the Broken God began his rampage, they learned that there were times when kindness and compassion were not enough. They took up arms, and many of them perished alongside my kind. Those that still remain are different. They are creatures of kindness and compassion, but they will strike down wickedness and cruelty when they see it.”
“What powers does Swiftstride hope to gain?” Xiang asked. “And would it be possible to meet this qilin?”
Like many beast-people, tiger-people revered the qilin, for they had received aid from them throughout their history. Doomwing had encountered several while travelling with Brother Tiger, and they had all found the idea of a dragon travelling with a tiger-man monk amusing. Leishen had even joined them for a time, and they had spent a good year travelling along the coast together before they had parted ways with the qilin. Brother Tiger had found Leishen’s thoughts intriguing. The monk had lived a life of violence before seeking the way of peace whilst the qilin had lived a life of peace before being forced to take up arms. And Doomwing? To a dragon, violence was simply another way of dealing with problems, particularly problems that refused to be reasonable.
“I do not know if Leishen will have time to meet with you. He only came this far north because Swiftstride is a distant descendant. As for power… I cannot be certain. Should he prove worthy, there are several ways the blood in his veins might awaken.”
The storm on the horizon grew stronger, and Corundum bit back a chuckle as Haitao climbed up onto Xiang’s head to try to get a better look. He could easily have used his own magic to peer into the storm, but this was a rite of passage. To intrude upon it would have been rude, and Leishen had done more than enough to earn his courtesy over the years.
“We shall simply have to wait,” Corundum said. “That the trial has gone on this long is a good sign. If Swiftride was going to fail, I suspect he would have failed swiftly. Leishen would only be taking this long if he truly wished to get Swiftstride’s measure.”
“Leishen was born in the First Age,” Brother Dragon added. “His storms bring nourishing rain, and his flames clear what is rotten to let new life grow. Either path – storm or flame – would help Swiftstride. If it is speed he seeks, then the path of storms would be better. The wind is swift – but lightning may be swifter still. However, the path of flames offers raw destructive power, as well as a set of skills that do not overlap with Antaria’s.”
“So a question of complementary or supplementary skills,” Xiang mused. “A difficult question – one that many warriors would have differing opinions on.” He glanced at Corundum and Brother Dragon. “What would you choose?”
“We are dragons,” Brother Dragon replied. “As such we often fight alone. This means that we must either possess a focused skillset so overwhelming that it can simply crush whatever dares to challenge us, or we must have a well-rounded skillset that can respond to any threat. Both approaches can be found amongst primordial dragons. Based on how Antaria prefers to approach opponents, I believe supplementary skills would work better.”
Xiang’s brows furrowed. “She fought with great speed and agility, yet she hit far harder than I expected.”
“Indeed,” Brother Dragon replied. “Most warriors who focus on speed and agility sacrifice power. To make up for this, they emphasise accuracy and may employ magic or weapons to increase how much damage they can inflict. Antaria is something of an oddity in that regard, most likely due to her particular magical affinities.”
“I see.” Xiang nodded. “So if Swiftstride were to obtain supplementary skills…”
“The idea would be for the two of them to develop a fighting style that emphasises overwhelming speed and immense power. Strike first and end the fight before it can truly begin.” Corundum bared his teeth. “A popular strategy amongst dragons when it comes to aerial combat. Many aerial battles are effectively over within seconds – even if a battle does not actually end immediately, the injuries sustained or the positional advantages gained can prove decisive.”
Corundum thought back to the many aerial battles he had fought. It was only at the lowest and highest levels that aerial battles tended to become drawn out affairs. Novices often lacked the skills required to end battles swiftly. In contrast, true experts were generally able to avoid making any serious mistakes, turning aerial clashes into extended battles where endurance could become an important factor.
“In any case,” Corundum said. “All we can do is wait.” He paused. “Still, it would be troublesome if Swiftstride were to suffer any permanent injuries. Antaria would be quite displeased with me.”
Haitao chirped at him from atop Xiang’s head. Trust the salamander to sympathise with the winged unicorn.
“I warned Swiftstride of the risks. He has done little to impress me so far, but I will not shame him by taking away his ability to choose his own fate. It is his life to risk.”
Haitao crooned and patted Xiang on the head.
“You need not concern yourself with Xiang,” Brother Dragon said. “He is not nearly so foolish as Swiftstride. Focus on your own growth. You have some growing to do before you can worry about anyone else.”
Xiang stared in awe as the qilin approached. The storm came with him. The winds howled, lightning flashed, thunder roared, flame blazed, and the waves rose and fell like mountains of water – and yet nothing was harmed. Not a single bird was forced from the sky, the wind died just before it reached the trees, and the surging waves turned calm to lap gently against the shore.
It was an awe-inspiring display of power and control.
The qilin himself was majestic although it was impossible to pin down his true nature. He was at once cervine, equine, and draconic. Electricity coursed over his body, and embers drifted from where his hooves touched the air. He had a single horn upon his head, and it shone with all the power of a storm and all the wrath of a wildfire.
Magnificent. Absolutely magnificent.
Fire and thunder shone in the qilin’s eyes, and for a long moment the creature stared at Xiang before his gaze shifted to the salamander upon his head and then to the two doppelgangers beside him. The former drew a small smile from the qilin whilst the latter turned the small smile into a full blown grin.
“You are multiplying, Doomwing,” the qilin drawled, though his voice carried clearly over the howl of the tumult of the storm. “Although perhaps not in the way some of your fellows would prefer.”
The two doppelgangers said nothing, and the qilin made his way down from the sky to stop at the water’s edge, his hooves touching neither water nor sand but only air. It was only then that Xiang noticed Swiftstride. The winged unicorn was held aloft by the qilin’s power but…
“His wings,” Corundum said. “He seems to be missing them… along with his horn. Would you care to explain, Leishen?”
The qilin glanced at the unicorn. The stallion’s wings were gone, as was his horn, and his body was charred almost black by flame and lightning. Xiang would have thought him dead if not for the faint rise and fall of his chest. “He passed my test, but his foundation was flawed. I gave him a choice. He could add to a flawed foundation, or I could destroy what was flawed, and he could rebuild anew under my guidance.” He inclined his head in respect. “I underestimated him. He asked me to break his foundation and help him build a better one. What you see is the consequence of that.”
“And what sort of foundation will you help him build?” Corundum asked. “I brought him here, so his fate is also my responsibility. What shall I tell his mistress?”
Leishen did not reply in words. Instead, he pushed an image into their minds. Xiang fell to his knees. He saw Swiftstride not as he had been or currently was, but as he might be – a unicorn with wings of flame and lightning and a horn of storm and fire. His hooves and wings would bring thunder and embers with each step and beat, and he would race through the skies swifter than any of his kin, at least since the days of old when unicorns and qilin had been many.
“My blood is thin in him,” Leishen said as the vision faded. “Yet it responded to my power eagerly. It reminded me… of before.” His gaze shifted to Xiang again. “We qilin are few now, so few compared to the First Age. I was young then, tiger-man, so young. I was no legend, no titan who brought storms and wildfires. I was young, and the qilin were many – so many that the thunder of our hooves alone was a storm, and the skies darkened when the Great Herd passed. But those days are gone, and the Great Herd is no more. Once, I could not have counted all of my siblings and cousins, yet now I carefully watch over each of my descendants. It makes me wonder how I missed this one, but I am glad to have found him.”
“How long will it take to train him?” Corundum asked. “His mistress is human. It will help neither of them if old age takes her before he returns.”
Leishen chuckled. “I shall help him build his foundation and show him the path ahead. But it would serve him better to walk that path alongside his mistress than me. I cannot be sure how long it will take, but he is determined. He will return to her soon.”
“Then take him,” Corundum said. “And train him well.”
“I intend to.” Leishen smiled. “The three of us together again. It is almost nostalgic.”
The three of them? Xiang’s brows furrowed. The qilin was surely referring to Doomwing, but who would the other person be? Not Swiftstride. The qilin had only met the unicorn today, and the same could be said for Haitao. Was it him? Xiang could not recall meeting the qilin before, and certainly not in Doomwing’s presence.
“Take better care of him this time, or do you intend to let him make the same choice as before?” Leishen asked.
It was Brother Dragon who responded. “It is his life to live or to give. I will not dishonour him by taking the choice from him.”
Leishen nodded. “I expected such a reply. You are a dragon through and through.” His gaze locked onto Haitao, but the salamander did not shy from it. Instead, the little creature met it evenly where so many others would have fled or collapsed on the spot. “Take good care of him, little one.”
Haitao chirped. He would.
“Then I shall depart,” Leishen said, turning and rising back up into the sky with Swiftstride. “May fortune favour you all.”
And as the qilin departed, the storm went with him. Xiang watched him go until the storm could no longer be seen. Only then did he turn away and make his way back to the village with Brother Dragon and Haitao. Corundum, however, took to the skies. No doubt, he would have some explaining to do when he next saw Antaria.
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Antaria had thought that nothing could top the sheer spectacle of the volcano Doomwing called home. It was the largest and tallest peak she’d ever seen – so tall that despite flying, she’d been forced to look up at it. She was sorely tempted to ask if he’d used magic to make it bigger, but she couldn’t help but feel that would be rude. It was his home, after all. Flying to the top had not been easy, and she would have suffocated in the thin air if not for the magic he placed on her.
Yet the majesty of the volcano itself paled in comparison to what it held. Within the crater of the volcano was a huge lake of molten lava, and around that lake was Doomwing’s hoard. The sight of it almost broke her mind. It was…
Great piles of precious metals heaped up the way a child might heap sand on a beach. Chest after chest after chest full of jewels, rare potions, mystical fabrics, and more scattered like leaves beneath a tree. Arcane devices of unspeakable power – objects that kingdoms would go to war over – left here and there the way a careless scholar might leave scrolls or books. Above the centre of the lake, beneath the night sky and surrounded by four elementals, was an egg. The surface of the egg seemed to mirror the sky above, black with twinkling stars.
“That is a stellar phoenix egg,” Doomwing said. “And before you ask, you cannot have it.”
Antaria huffed. “I wasn’t going to ask for it.”
The thought had definitely occurred to her. There was something almost… hypnotic about the egg. However, she knew better than to ask. Anything that Doomwing was treating with that much care had to be incredibly important.
As they landed on the shores of the lake of lava, she was once again glad that Doomwing had used his magic to protect her. The flight here had been interesting enough – soaring over a volcanic landscape marked by fields of jagged rock, rivers of lava, and towering pillars of rock was not something she thought she’d ever do – but the heat here was absolutely stifling. As strong as she’d gotten, she would have been dead within moments without Doomwing’s aid.
“So… do I just… go and pick something out?” Antaria asked.
Doomwing moved toward the lava and slid into it the same way a crocodile might slide into water. “One of my doppelgangers will assist you.”
Antaria took a reflexive step back as a wave of lava splashed against the shore nearby. “How many of those do you have?”
“Enough.”
And then he was gone, his entire form vanishing beneath the surface of the lake. She stared. The lake had to be enormous if he could fully immerse himself in it.
“Come with me.”
She turned to find another one of Doomwing’s doppelganger’s waiting for her. Despite looking absolutely identical to Corundum, he held himself differently. There was an… eagerness to him that seemed almost youthful in comparison to the more measured way Corundum carried himself.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“You can call me Littletooth.”
She blinked. “Littletooth?”
The doppelganger chortled at her dumfounded expression and nudged her with his head. “It’s a nickname an old friend used to call me by whenever she was annoyed at me. She was so proud of her big teeth. In comparison, my teeth were a more normal size although to her, they seemed small. Hence, Littletooth.”
“She must have been a good friend if you let her call you that,” Antaria said as she followed him away from the lake and over to the seemingly endless piles of treasure that awaited.
“She was,” Littletooth said. “She really was.”
“Ah.” Antaria winced. “Sorry.” It was easy to forget sometimes, but Doomwing must have lost a lot of friends over the years. And even dragons could grieve.
“Do not apologise for things you cannot change and had no way of knowing about.” Littletooth waved his stubby tail at her. “Now, come along. We don’t have all day, and I’m sure you’re eager to look around.”
Antaria grinned. “You bet I am.”
It was one thing to see the massive piles of treasure everywhere but quite another to know how much they were worth. Littletooth seemed to know the value of every single thing, and he was only too happy to tell her how much things were worth. That chest full of potions? Enough to buy her kingdom. Those bolts of magical silk? A king’s ransom. Those jewels? Forget conquering neighbouring kingdoms. She could just buy them all.
It was utterly insane, and she sincerely hoped that none of the dwarves ever got to see this place because they would absolutely go mad with greed if they did. However, as breathtaking as it was to wander amidst entire hills of wealth, she did have a reward to pick out, and she wasn’t stupid enough to waste such a precious opportunity on something like gold or jewels. She said as much, and Littletooth chortled and led her to another part of the hoard.
“Here, you will find weapons, armour, and assortments of items that you might find useful.” The doppelganger smirked. “The more… illustrious items are kept elsewhere.”
“Aww…” Even if she wouldn’t get them, it might be nice to see the kinds of items that even Doomwing considered remarkable. “Still… there’s a lot here.”
And there was. Rather than being dumped into piles haphazardly, the items in this area were all neatly arranged onto shelves and racks that seemed to go on forever. She wondered how Doomwing had even managed to arrange them so neatly before remembering his telekinesis. His size might stop him from handling objects with his claws, but she’d seen how fine-grained his control over his telekinesis was.
“What about this?” Antaria asked, picking up a sword.
“Not a bad item,” Littletooth said. “A sword from the Second Age, elven make. It is designed to cut through almost anything when enough magic is run through it. Without magic, it’s still very sharp, but nothing that a truly skilled dwarf can’t match. I can’t say I recommend it, though.”
“Oh? Why is that?” Antaria asked.
“It was designed for elves. You’re stronger than any normal human, but elves tend to have large magical reserves. As you are now, you’d get maybe… ten seconds of proper use out of it before you exhausted yourself. It’s not bad, but I think you can do better.”
Antaria hummed thoughtfully and continued walking until another item caught her eye. “What about these?” She held up a pair of winged sandals.
“Those were made using the willingly given feathers of a griffin. They will let the wearer soar through the air like a griffin,” Littletooth said. “You can’t fly that well yet, but you might get there in a few years.” He scoffed. “Griffins aren’t nearly as good in the air as they like to think. Besides, they’re not exactly lucky.”
“Oh?” Antaria said. “Why do you say that?”
“I got those from a human who tried to kill me in the Third Age. I used a spell to cut off his legs, and he dropped out of the sky like a rock.”
“Ouch.”
“This was out over the ocean, so the fall didn’t kill him. But the sharks did.”
“…” Antaria winced. “Yeah. Let’s keep looking.”
The next item to catch her eye was a blue charm.
“What about that?” she asked.
“Not a bad choice. That is a charm made from the scales of a water salamander. It allows you to breathe freely underwater and to speak and hear regularly as well,” Littletooth replied. “And before you ask, no water salamander was harmed making it. Instead, I – or rather, Doomwing – simply collected the scales after they were shed.”
“That would be handy, but there are ways of surviving underwater using just my magic, right?” Antaria asked.
“Yes. You are almost at the point where you will be learning how to sustain yourself using only magic, at least for a while. Such techniques will also allow you to survive underwater.”
“Never mind then. Let’s keep going.”
She wasn’t sure how long they wandered before something else caught her eye, but Littletooth was seemingly content to wander around explaining the items on display.
“You don’t mind that I’m taking so long?” Antaria said.
“Not really. Doomwing is taking a nap in the lake, so we’re in no hurry. Besides, I’m happy to talk about everything in this hoard.” The doppelganger’s eyes gleamed greedily. “I still remember being a hatchling, with hardly a coin to my name. Being able to boast about all of this pleases me.”
“Well, it’s certainly worth boasting about,” Antaria said. “What about that?” She pointed at a pair of glasses. “What do those do?”
“Another good choice. Those were made by a master dwarf craftsman during the Third Age. Dwarves, in general, aren’t particularly good at using scrying and detection magic. Instead, they’re better at instilling magic of that kind into items. Those spectacles can see through illusions, detect traps, and reveal information about your surroundings.”
“That does sound very handy,” Antaria murmured. She picked them up. “What sort of illusions and traps can they handle?”
“Anything up to the equivalent of tenth-order magic. If you run magic through them, you can also see through things to some degree. Try it.”
Antaria put the glasses on and stared at Littletooth while running magic through them. “I don’t notice anything different.”
“You can’t see through my body,” Littletooth replied. “My own innate magic and defences are too high, but try looking at yourself.”
Antaria did and then gave a squawk of surprise. “You can see through clothes with these?”
Littletooth chortled. “The dwarf who made those had a sense of humour – and that function was originally designed to see through armour, so you’d know where to stab the other guy. But, yes, you can see through clothes with those.”
“Uh… maybe I’ll choose something else.”
“Are you sure? The analysis abilities are very useful since it can give you a rough idea of your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses. However, it won’t work on opponents who are above a certain level of power or who have the right type of magical resistances or magical defences in place.”
Antaria bit her lip. “It is tempting, but it just… it doesn’t feel like it’s for me, if you know what I mean.”
Littletooth nodded. “Then we can keep going.”
They continued to wander. It was actually quite fun. Some of the items were truly bizarre, and Littletooth delighted in explaining the intricacies and oddities of each and every item she asked about. There was a gourd that could convert magic directly into wine – the work of some alcoholic alchemist from the Fifth Age. There was a pair of pants that put themselves onto the wearer. Useful, but a little disturbing, especially since the pants were prone to commenting on the wearer’s weight. There was even a mask that let her take on the appearance and voice of someone else. She had strongly considered that before setting it aside. It just wasn’t her style.
Finally, they came to a section of musical instruments.
There was a set of drums that could drive people insane when played. Littletooth offered to demonstrate, saying she was strong enough to resist the effects of short-term exposure, but she hastily declined. There was a lyre that could beguile and enchant those who heard it – and that was just too creepy for her tastes. She was happy to bash her enemies over the head with rocks, but she wasn’t going to control their minds. Littletooth gave her an approving look when she set the lyre aside.
“What about that?” she asked, pointing at a flute. “What does that do?”
“That?” Littletooth toddled over the flute. His slightly awkward proportions made him almost adorable, especially since he hadn’t attempted to rearrange her skeleton the way Corundum regularly did. “It is a summoning flute.”
“What does it summon?”
“It calls spirits and elementals associated with the sky,” Littletooth said. “And given your magical affinity with the sky and how you’ve managed to take charge of the monsters… yes, it might be suitable for you.” He paused. “There’s just one problem.”
“What?”
“Do you actually know how to play a flute because you can’t just blow into it and expect it to work. No. There is a whole book of songs that goes with it, and you have to be able to play those songs for it to work. Moreover, once you summon them, you’ll still have to win their loyalty and trust.”
Antaria’s eye twitched. “What? Are you serious?”
“Absolutely.” Littletooth handed her the flute and then called over a book. He opened the book, and Antaria found herself staring at music she couldn’t read.
“What sort of notation is this?” she asked.
“Elvish, from the Third Age. Human musical notation is actually closer to the dwarven style since humans have, historically speaking, had more contact with dwarves due to trading food and other supplies for various metals and jewels.”
“…” Antaria took a deep breath. “I’ve never played the flute before, but how hard can it be?”
Littletooth gave her a sceptical look. “By all means, try your best.”
She did. And it was awful.
“Damn it…” Antaria’s fists clenched. “I really don’t know how to play the flute or read this music, but… I don’t know… something is telling me that I should pick this flute.”
“Is that so?” Littletooth peered at her and the flute, and she felt the whisper of magic surround her. “Yes, now that you mention it, it does seem to have taken a liking to you. It would be a shame to just put it back, but…”
“I know someone who can teach her.”
Antaria yelped and stumbled back as Doomwing suddenly loomed over them. “Could you not do that? You’re supposed to be having a nap.” She scowled petulantly. “And how can you even sneak up on us like that? Did you use magic?”
“This is my lair,” Doomwing replied. “I can do as I please.”
“The glasses would have allowed you to see him,” Littletooth said before turning to Doomwing. “You said you have someone in mind. Are you thinking of…?”
“Yes,” Doomwing replied. “It will give her a chance to prove herself… and it is about time that Antaria met her properly.”
“Who are you talking about?” Antaria asked.
“You will find out when we return to the village,” Doomwing replied. “Take the flute and the book. You may continue to explore my hoard while I store my friend’s hoard. Once I am done, we will return to the village. I will fly there and carry you with my telekinesis.”
“Are you in a hurry?” Antaria asked. As swiftly as she could fly, she still moved at a snail’s pace compared to Doomwing.
“I was responsible for the… incident that destroyed my friend’s lair. I see no reason to delay any further in repairing it and returning his hoard.”
Doomwing went off to the opposite side of the lake to begin storing away his friend’s hoard. Littletooth nudged her with one of his overly large wings and grinned.
“What?” Antaria asked.
“He’s just eager to see his friend again,” Litteltooth said. “After all, it has been an entire Age since they last met face to face.”
When they arrived back at the village – good grief could Doomwing fly quickly when he wished – Antaria went to look for Swiftstride. She hadn’t paid as much attention to him as she probably should have, but he had always been fond of music. However, she couldn’t find him anywhere.
“He has left to undertake his own training,” Corundum said.
She rounded on the doppelganger. “What do you mean?”
His explanation was swift, concise, and made Antaria feel like he had punched her in the gut.
“He felt like that?” Antaria asked. “Why didn’t he say anything?”
“Do you think he would have wanted your pity?” Corundum replied. “More than anything, he wants to stand at your side – to be someone you can rely on. His weakness made that impossible, so he has sought to rid himself of it. You have grown stronger. Allow him the opportunity to do the same. Instead of worrying about him, focus on how you will welcome him when he returns triumphant.”
“Yeah…” Antaria said quietly. “You’re right. But still… I wish he’d said something to me.”
“You have been busy,” Corundum replied. Her eyes flashed, and he continued, “That is not a criticism. It is a statement of fact. Perhaps it is time to establish a proper bureaucracy, so this does not happen again.”
“You might be right about that…” She shook herself. “Doomwing said I’d be meeting my music instructor when we got here.”
“Yes, I did.” Doomwing rumbled. “She should be here any moment…”
The space beside them bent and twisted, and a blonde woman appeared.
“You… you were at the tournament,” Antaria said. “You said you were a friend of Doomwing’s.” The woman had never introduced herself. Instead, she had hung back, observing closely as Antaria and Doomwing’s other followers interacted.
“I am,” the woman replied, and she seemed strangely pleased when Doomwing did not gainsay her. “You said that you needed someone to instruct her, Doomwing?”
“She needs to learn how to play an elvish flute and how to read elvish musical notation. Unless I am mistaken you know how to do both.”
“Music is important to my people. My mother made sure that I was well educated in a number of musical traditions and instruments. An elvish flute and elvish musical notation will not be any problem.” The woman’s lips twitched. “Let us hope she is better with a flute than my father. That is one thing I hope she hasn’t inherited.”
Doomwing’s brows furrowed. “Ah… I had almost forgotten how abysmal he was. Yes… your mother forbade him from playing one, and Marcus threatened to break his flute over his head if he played another note.”
“Um… who was your father?” Antaria asked. “And why would I inherit anything from him?”
“Ah.” The woman smiled. “Allow me to introduce myself properly.”
The air around her shimmered, and the woman was no longer just a regular woman. Instead, she was the most beautiful woman that Antaria had ever seen with hair like spun gold and eyes like emeralds. There was something… strangely familiar about her features too, and as more of the illusions around the woman fell away, a pair of fox ears appeared atop her head, and nine golden tails appeared behind her.
“Kitsune…” Antaria breathed. She had heard of them but had never seen one herself. And nine tails? According to legend, nine-tailed kitsune were exceedingly rare and incredibly powerful. Yet staring at the kitsune in front of her, she could hardly feel a thing. It was almost like she wasn’t there. That meant she must have unbelievable control to go with her raw power.
But wait…
A kitsune with golden hair… one whose father might be related to Antaria in some distant way… and those features…
Those features weren’t so different from the ones she saw in the mirror every day.
The kitsune smiled. “If it helps, you have my father’s eyes, more so than many of his other descendants.”
Antaria finally put the pieces together. “You’re…”
“Yes.” The kitsune smiled. “My name is Hikari. Elerion the Valiant was my father. I suppose that makes me your… let’s say aunt since I’m not entirely sure how many generations it has been.”
“…”
“Hikari,” Doomwing said. “I am leaving her in your care.” He paused. “I am putting my trust in you.”
There was a weight to those words that even Antaria could feel.
Hikari inclined her head. “I understand. I will be worthy of it.”
“I hope so.” He turned. “While I am gone, Corundum shall speak in my name.”
And then he was airborne, his great wings carrying him away from the village at a speed no bird could hope to match.
“How considerate of him,” Hikari murmured. “Had he not used magic, we would all have been blown away.” She smiled at Antaria. “We will begin in earnest tomorrow, but do you have any experience with a flute?”
Antaria’s response was to raise the flute to her lips and blow.
And Hikari’s response?
“I… see.” She glanced at Corundum. “It seems I shall be quite busy.”
