The Ballad Of A Semi-Benevolent Dragon - Interlude 1: The Hatchling

Doomwing couldn’t help but envy his parents’ scales. His father’s scales were a deep red that called to mind the horizon at dawn or dusk whilst his mother’s were a vivid blue that reminded him of the sky just after the sun had dipped below the horizon and darkness had yet to truly fall. They were big too, so much bigger than he was. They were each roughly seven hundred feet long although his father was perhaps a few feet longer. In contrast, Doomwing was a mere twelve feet in length.

But he would grow. for as long as a dragon lived, they would only grow bigger and stronger, or so his parents had told him. It seemed like only yesterday he had been a mere ten feet in length, and he could still vaguely remember a time when he had been smaller. He ate well each day, feasting on the scraps of kraken, leviathan, and whale that his parents brought him and on the fish, deer, and cattle that he was large enough to slay. There was something satisfying about eating what he killed, something that felt right and honest and true in a way that eating the food others gave him never did.

“Have you finished eating?” his mother poked him with her tail. Had she wanted, she could easily have smashed every bone in his body, yet her touch was firm without being painful. “Your father and I must tend to our duties. We will accompany you to Mother Tree, but we expect you to work hard.” Her amethyst gaze burned into him. “Do not spend all your time playing with the other hatchlings and children, and do not waste you time with that layabout god.”

“Yes, mother,” Doomwing replied. Of course, he had no intention of spending all his time studying. His parents lived high up in the mountains, so his classes with Mother Tree were his best opportunity to meet other hatchlings and children, and Dion was an interesting god. True, he wasn’t very powerful or good at fighting, but he was fun to be around, and he seemed to know all about the best things to eat and drink.

“He is a hatchling,” his father rumbled. “Let him have his fun. He will be grown soon enough, and then he will have duties of his own to attend to.”

“Even so,” his mother insisted. “He has a mind for magic, our Doomwing, but it will mean little if he does not study.”

“Hmph.” His father loomed over him, golden eyes shining like twin suns. “You are smaller than your mother or I were at your age, Doomwing, but your mother speaks the truth. You have a talent for magic than neither of us did. Work hard. Perhaps you will get more pleasant duties because of it.”

Doomwing nodded. He had learned that it was better to just agree with his parents when they were in this sort of mood. They were always going on about their duties. He could appreciate what an honour it was to help the gods shape the world, but why couldn’t they spend more time actually enjoying what they’d built? It seemed a shame to make so many wonderful things and then never have the chance to savour them. Dion agreed, which is why the god spend so much time coming up with new foods and drinks. Many thought his efforts wasteful when there was still so much to do, but everybody needed to eat and drink, so why not make the experience more pleasant?

His parents took to the skies, and Doomwing followed them into the air. Given his small size, he couldn’t keep up if they flew at their full speed, so they slowed their pace to allow him to fly between him. There were few things that could threaten an adult dragon, but hatchlings were far more vulnerable. He was safe as long as his parents were nearby, and he would be safe with Mother Tree and Dion. Dion might not be much of a fighter, but he was still a god, and Mother Tree was stronger than all but the very mightiest gods.

As they flew, Doomwing gazed at the horizon. They were still far away, but he could already see Mother Tree. She was so tall that her trunk pierced through the clouds, and her branches cast shadows for dozens and dozens of miles. She was so large that even his parents could perch upon her boughs, and even the largest of dragons could not come close to matching her size. Doomwing licked his lips. Mother Tree always had the tastiest fruits for the hatchling and children who attended class. They were both a reward to encourage their best efforts and a way of keeping hunger from bothering them. Dragon hatchlings were almost always hungry, and Doomwing spent most of his time eating to fuel his rapid growth.

As they neared the tree, they came across a multitude of other fliers. There were massive eagles as large as his parents, flocks of wyverns, and even packs of drakes although his parents turned their noses up at them. Apparently, drakes were like dragons, only far smaller and weaker. There were also sky whales and sky krakens, and strange, feathered serpents soared through the clouds. Clouds of small birds, fairies, and other creatures flitted here and there, unbothered by their presence because all knew that violence would not be tolerated within the shadows of Mother Tree. Anyone who disagreed would face her wrath.

Once they were close enough to spot the branch where the other hatchlings and children had gathered, his parents turned and angled south to where they would be helping the gods shape a series of islands in a newly created sea. Doomwing folded his wings and dove, landing beside a dragon whose scales were a patchwork of blues, blacks, greys, and silvers.

“You’re early today,” Stormtooth chirped. She nudged him with her head. “And you’ve grown bigger too.”

Doomwing made a face. “But you’re still bigger than me even though we hatched on the same day.”

She chortled. “That’s because you’re small for your age whereas I am large.” She puffed out her chest and flared her wings. The sudden gust of wind drew several scowls from a group of young elves nearby, but she simply bared her teeth in a toothy smile. “I’m also a weather dragon. Everyone knows weather dragons are the best lineage.”

He scoffed and poked her with his tail. It was still a bit stubby, but he was hoping it would grow long enough to whip things with soon. “At least wait until you’re a hail dragon before saying that.”

She rolled her green eyes. “A hail dragon? Don’t be silly. It’ll be a while until either of us has our First Awakening, and you can be sure I’ll have mine before you have yours.”

Doomwing bared his teeth. “Just you wait. I’ll be a nova dragon one day.” He jabbed her lightly with his wings. He’d always been proud of them. He might be small for his age, but his wings had always been unusually large. That was why his parents had called him Doomwing.

“A nova dragon? You’re a burst dragon now. You’d need to go through Four Awakenings to become a nova dragon, and only three dragons in the world have managed that.”

“I’ll be the fourth,” Doomwing insisted. “Just you watch.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Stormtooth padded forward as Mother Tree appeared, a dryad rising up out of the branch ahead of them. Unlike other trees, Mother Tree could make plenty of dryads, and she could hear and speak through all of them. That was how she was able to run so many classes at the same time. “We’re supposed to be covering runes today, right?”

Doomwing nodded eagerly. “Yeah. That’s what they said last time.”

They took up their spots on the branch and waited patiently as Mother Tree checked to make sure everyone was there. Dion appeared soon after, his god-metal body gleaming in the sun, divine runes inscribed upon his skin. He was the same size as an adult elf, but he carried himself with a grace and power that no elf could match. He held a wineskin in one hand, and there was a box of food in the other. Doomwing sniffed the air and sighed. His friend had sealed it to make sure the smell would not spread. Perhaps he would share whatever was in it with him later.

“Now that you are all here,” Mother Tree began in a soft, musical voice. “We may begin.” She nodded. “Dion.”

The god stepped forward. His eyes were gemstones of topaz and garnet, and they both shone with iridescent light as he began to speak. “Today, we will be covering runes. Now, I’m sure you have all heard a great many things about runes. Some are probably true. Others are probably false. Our task today is to provide you with some understanding of what runes are and why learning them would be a good thing.”

Dion raised one hand and traced a symbol in the air. The symbol pulsed, and warm, gentle light washed over them. “The world is a story,” Dion said. “Written by the gods and those who work alongside them. Runes are the words that make up that story. In the beginning, before the world was made, there were only the Seven Gods, and each of them discovered a primordial rune. It was with those seven primordial runes that they created the world and all the life that now dwells within it. Yet the Seven Gods were not the only ones who could use runes. Divine runes are the runes used by the other gods, and although none are so mighty as the seven primordial runes, they can nevertheless add to and change the story of the world.”

Mother Tree smiled. “In time, the creations of the gods learned to use their own runes. These are the ancient runes, those wielded by the oldest and greatest creations of the gods. Dragons can wield them, as can I and my daughters.”

Doomwing puffed out his chest and nudged Stormtooth. “Dragons are awesome, aren’t they?”

She grinned back. “Of course.”

“Below the ancient runes are greater runes, lesser runes, and basic runes that can be used by other creatures who are not blessed with the same level of power,” Dion said. “The most important requirement for using runes is that you have a soul because only those who have souls can use runes.”

“Why is that?” a young elf child near the front asked.

“The world’s story is written with runes,” Dion replied. “To use a rune is to change the story of the world. You can think of it as changing fate or destiny. But fate and destiny to not bow to just anyone. You need something special to push against the tide, something that tells the world you’re worth listening to. That thing is a soul. It is why only the Seven Gods can use primordial runes. Only their souls have the power to use them. Likewise, only gods can use divine runes because our souls are different from others. Likewise, only the mightiest other souls like dragons or Mother Tree can use ancient runes.”

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Dion smiled. “Now, you might be asking why you should bother learning runes when you all can use other kinds of magic.” There were nods all around. “It is true that all of you have magic of your own. For some of you, it is almost instinctive, as much a part of you as your arm or your leg. For others, it is something you learn. Such magic is generally divided into orders, with each order being more powerful and complex than the one before. The more talented of you have already progressed as far as the fifth order, but you still have a long way to go. Even a weak god like me can still use magic of the tenth order with relative ease.” He paused, and his expression grew serious. “You want to learn runes because they are capable of doing things that other magic cannot. When you use other magic properly, you change the world around you. When you use runes properly, the world itself changes for you. That might not sound like a big difference, but think of it like this. Let’s say you’re on the beach. You could make a little wave by moving the water around with your hands or flapping your wings. If you were big enough and strong enough, you could even make a very big wave. But could that wave compare to the power of the tides themselves, to the sea itself moving from its very depths all the way to the surface? Of course not. What is the power of even the mightiest individual compared to the entire sea? After all, even the gods who made the sea did not make it alone, and even now, not a single one of them could command all of it without help.”

Doomwing listened intently. His parents had told him about runes, but they did not have Dion’s flair for speech, nor did they have his easy charm. People liked listening to him, and Doomwing was no different.

“Could you show us the difference?” Stormtooth asked.

“I was hoping someone would ask that.” Dion chuckled. “Mother Tree, a target, if you could?”

The dryad sighed and then gestured. Part of the branch rose up into a shape that roughly resembled a tree. “Try not to make too much of a mess.”

“As if a mere fire could harm you.” Dion pointed. “I’ll start off with a simple seventh-order fire spell.” The words were accompanied by a flash of light and heat followed by a tremendous boom. A sphere of searing flame enveloped the target. The air burned, and the shockwave of the blast washed over them. The attack would have melted a hill into little more than a puddle of molten rock. As the spell faded, Doomwing peered at the target. It was scorched and burnt but largely intact. “Are you trying to make me look bad?” Dion asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mother Tree covered her mouth with one hand to hide a giggle. “Work hard, children, or you’ll end up like him.”

“You wound me.” Dion clutched at his chest dramatically before straightening. “As you can see, a mere seventh-order spell failed to inflict anything more than superficial damage on the target. How about if I use a greater rune of fire?” He gestured, and Mother Tree called up an identical target. Dion traced intricate shapes in the air, and a tangle of crimson light appeared around the target.

And then it burned.

Within seconds, the target had been reduced to ash that spread on the breeze.

“And that, children, is why you should learn runes.” Dion sketched a bow, and Doomwing sat up straighter, as did the others. “When I used a seventh-order spell, I was trying to burn the target. When I used a greater rune of fire, the world itself commanded the target to burn. Notice how quickly the target burned and how there was basically no collateral damage. This is what a rune can do.”

“So all of us can do that?” an elf child asked eagerly. Doomwing could see the gleam in her eyes at the thought of setting things on fire, a rarity amongst elves, most of whom seemed to dislike fire when it was used for destructive purposes.

“Yes and no. In theory, anyone of sufficient power can learn all the runes that require that level of power. However, the truth is that you will almost certainly find certain runes easier to use than others. For example, our dragon friends will almost certainly find themselves quite adept in using runes related to fire and destruction whereas our elf friends will be better with runes that govern growth, life, and nature. That doesn’t mean you won’t be able to use other runes, but you will have to work harder to learn and use them. But that’s okay,” Dion said. “Different doesn’t mean bad, and the world would be boring if everyone was the same.”

Mother Tree clapped her hands together. “Now, I’m sure you’re all dying to give it a try.” There were eager nods all around. “Spread out along the branch.”

Doomwing found his own spot and readied himself. What rune would they be learning first? Perhaps Dion would teach him that rune he’d used to destroy the target, or maybe one that could alter gravity. In fact, he was pretty sure his mother used a gravity rune to drag him off his little hoard when he didn’t feel like moving.

“Since your parents would be upset if any of you blew yourselves up, we will begin with a simpler rune.” Dion smiled. “The basic rune for light.”

Doomwing’s eye twitched as Dion demonstrated. A small orb of light appeared over the god’s hand before vanishing. “Now, here’s what you need to do. You have to trace the rune and move your magic alongside the pattern. It’s like this…”

Doomwing stared down at Mother Tree. The great tree was already burning, but even the combined efforts of the remaining dragons were not enough. She was regenerating almost as quickly as they could hurt her. What they needed was an attack with overwhelming power, one that could damage her so badly that her regeneration was completely overwhelmed. He’d already tried a twelfth-order spell. It hadn’t been enough.

Deep down inside, he’d probably known that it wouldn’t be.

All he had left now were runes. There was a part of him that rebelled at the thought of using them against Mother Tree. She, along with Dion, had been his first teachers in runes, and she had encouraged him to continue learning, long after others had set aside their studies in favour of honing other forms of magic. And why not? Learning and using runes became exponential more difficult at higher levels. A basic rune was easy enough, but by the time someone got to greater runes, it was like trying to draw dozens of different patterns at the same time while moving their magic in dozens of different ways too. The mental strain was enough to leave even many dragons with a headache. Stormtooth, his old friend, had never mastered anything above a lesser rune, though perhaps she might have if she hadn’t died so young.

He shook his head. Now was not the time to reminisce.

His golden eyes flared, and he began to trace the components of an ancient rune. It was the equivalent of drawing thousands of different patterns simultaneously, all of them unique, and all of which had to fit together in exactly the right way and in exactly the right order. The failure of even a single component would result in the ancient rune as a whole failing, which would most likely lead to his brains leaking out of his skull. At the same time, his magic flowed outward, empowering the countless patterns in precisely the right order and with exactly the right amount of power.

His nose began to bleed, and his eyes wept bloody tears. Below him, Mother Tree’s attention turned upward. She must have sensed the threat. She began to form her own ancient rune, but Doomwing was faster, and he’d started before she had. Even this wouldn’t be enough to kill her, but it would hurt her enough that the others could actually deal lasting damage to her. She reached out to him, her melodic voice pleading for his understanding, for his kindness, for his mercy.

He hardened his heart.

The ancient rune completed.

And the world erupted.

A coruscating beam of raw heat and force lanced down from the summit of the heavens like the spear of one of the long-dead gods of the First Age. It was light beyond blinding, fire beyond burning. Everything it hit, it annihilated. The clouds boiled away. The air burned and blasted outward. And the soil was instantly melted into glass before disintegrating. Only Mother Tree withstood the blast, her great branches sheltering her, her stout trunk standing firm… but only for a few moments.

Before the power of the rune, even Mother Tree could not remain unscathed. Doomwing sagged, tumbling out of the air and crashing onto the ground as he devoted every scrap of power he had to fuelling the rune. The Mother Tree was determined to write her own story, but Doomwing would not let her have everything her own way. The world changed to accommodate his demands, and the beam of light intensified, a cosmic drill that could have burned through the world itself if the Mother Tree hadn’t been in its path.

But not even his massive reserves could fuel the rune for long. The beam petered out, and Doomwing forced himself to rise. Mother Tree was still standing, but her leaves had all been burnt, and great chunks of ruined bark fell from her trunk. She was screaming, and he wished to all the gods that had died that he did not have to hear it. Choking on the words, he forced himself to speak.

“Attack!” he boomed. “Now! Hit her with everything you have!”

Dragon fire answered his call, and Mother Tree burned as she had never burned before.