Chapter 2: Swift Wings

Noah and Shannon traveled ever deeper into the heart of Uther, following the tracks of the fiend army. However, the distance between them was growing with each passing day, and Noah was doing the math. “I have an idea,” he said, sitting with Shannon beside the campfire as they ate dinner, “an idea of how we can get to Colbrand faster.”

“I’m listening.”

Noah unrolled a map and pointed to a mountain near their location. “They say there is a dragon that lives in this mountain. Though feared for their strength, dragons are known to be very intelligent, far more so than their wyvern descendants. We might be able to convince him to join our cause, at least temporarily.”

“You want to enlist the help of a dragon?” Shannon gawked.

“He may be able to get us to Colbrand before the fiend army arrives, and I can’t think of a more powerful ally. Besides, if it doesn’t work, at most, we’ve added a few more days to our journey. What do you say?”

Shannon took a deep breath. “If anyone else were to propose such an idea, I would have called them mad. But if you tell me it’ll work, I’ll believe you.”

“Not quite the response I was looking for, but I appreciate your support.”

Thus, they took a detour, moving off the fiend’s path of destruction and heading for the mountain. They expected to find a gothic and foreboding stone spire in the wilderness, untouched by man, minus the scores of charred skeletons and signs warning travelers to stay away. Instead, at the foot of the mountain, they found a healthy village with fields of crops, including vast vineyards and farms devoted to hops and barley.

“Huh, ‘Dragonpint.’ I wasn’t expecting this,” said Noah, reading the village entrance sign. The sign was carved with the effigy of a dragon blowing a stream of fire over a beer stein.

“I’m certainly not complaining,” said Shannon.

They entered the village, robust and thriving in the spring warmth. As they walked down the main street, Noah spotted a young man wearing armor and a bronze knight emblem.

“Excuse me,” Noah said, waving to him.

“Can I help you, travelers?” he asked.

Noah flashed him his gold emblem, and the man tensed up. “I need to speak to the leader of this town. It’s an emergency.”

“R-r-right this way,” he stuttered.

“I must say, I never expect to find a village next to a dragon’s den,” said Noah as he and Shannon followed him through the village.

“It’s actually because of the dragon that this village is still around.”

“What do you mean?” Shannon asked.

“The dragon and the village have an agreement. Should an army of bandits or monsters attack, the dragon will awake from his slumber and deal with the threat. The agreement is one hundred barrels of wine and spirits a year, plus another hundred every time they call on him, but they haven’t had to awaken him in a long time. They say he’ll go out and hunt every few years, but he just sleeps the rest of the time. There are only a couple of other knights here and some soldiers, and really, our only job is maintaining the peace and dealing with problems too small to bother waking the dragon.”

The knight’s words gave Noah hope. If the dragon’s services could be bought with liquor, then his plan had a good chance of working. They were brought to one of the vineyards, where a well-dressed man could be seen speaking with a farmer.

“Mr. Mayor, there is someone who needs to speak to you!”

Noah, Shannon, and the knight met the mayor halfway. “Welcome to Dragonpint. I am Haven, the mayor. I must say, we rarely get a gold-ranked knight out here.”

Noah reached out and shook his hand. “I’m Sir Noah. This is my companion, Shannon. I’m afraid there is a dire situation.”

“What’s going on?”

“A colossal army from the beastman city of Welindar is marching on Colbrand, ready to wipe out every last man, woman, and child. They’ve already carved a path of destruction across the countryside and are moving fast. We hope to speak with the dragon and see if he’ll consider helping us save Colbrand. It may already be too late, but we have to try.”

The mayor rubbed his balding head and turned away. “If Colbrand is destroyed, the entire country will fall apart. I doubt he’ll go for it, but it’s certainly worth a shot. Come with me. We’ll prepare a tribute.”

The mayor hurried back to town, and Noah and Shannon followed.

“How did your town form this pact with the dragon?” Shannon asked.

“Believe it or not, it was his idea. Long, long ago, before my time, this village was being attacked by an ogre tribe, and then, out of nowhere, the dragon appeared and obliterated them. ‘Grow wheat and grapes,’ he said. ‘Brew me enough liquor to sleep until the end of time, and I will defend you.’ Then he spat out a big lump of gold and told our ancestors to use it to get started.”

Haven brought them to a large building near the vineyards, where men were hard at work making booze of all kinds in massive barrels. The smell of wine and beer was heavy, almost bringing tears to Shannon’s eyes, as though huffing a bar rag.

“I had heard about a company called Dragon’s Brewery that produced some of the country’s best wine, beer, and spirits, but their drinks were expensive, scarce, and kept secret. Is this the headquarters?” Noah asked.

“That is correct. We keep a large reservoir in case of emergencies, and whatever remains that we don’t drink ourselves is sold to a select few distributors.”

“Huh, I always assumed the name was just picked to sound interesting. You can find a thousand pubs, brothels, apothecaries, and other businesses with ‘dragon’ in their name.”

“‘Fit for a dragon’ is our motto. After all, he might not choose to help us if we provide subpar product.” Haven turned to a nearby barrel and filled two cups from the spigot. “Here, give it a taste. This is our prized ale.”

Noah and Shannon accepted and emptied their cups. “Oh, that is good.”

“I’ve never been one for these kinds of drinks, but that is nice,” said Shannon.

Haven then stepped away. “Men, we need to prepare a tribute for Roroaka!” The announcement sent a rush of fear through the workers. None of them had ever delivered to the dragon’s lair outside of the yearly offering.

“Is the town under attack?” one man asked, standing atop a series of scaffolding around several massive fermentation vats.

“Not our town, someone else’s! Colbrand! An army is marching on the capital! Hop to!”

The men rushed to fulfill the order, but it was a process. This was a society without forklifts, so moving the hundred barrels just around the brewery was a feat of monumental engineering, requiring pullies, rollers, and even monk magic. They were loaded onto huge wagons, each pulled by a team of oxen. Noah, Shannon, and Haven stood back, watching the herculean effort unfold.

“Each one of those barrels costs a fortune. I don’t suppose we could expect to be reimbursed by the kingdom?”

“I can’t speak on their behalf, especially if they’ve already been wiped out. It’ll be easier to just pay for it myself. Would you accept gems as payment?”

“You have them?”

“By the time the barrels are done loading, I will. Shannon, my stationary if you would, please.”

She smiled. “Hanger vellum and No. 3 ink?”

“Precisely, dear.”

They stepped outside, and Shannon assumed her centaur form. She then conjured a roll of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill from her ring. She carried much of his materials and tools in her ring, acting as a magical caddy. She also conjured a plastic slate for use as a makeshift writing surface. It could be set on anything, but for some reason, she liked it when Noah hung it off her back and used her as an easel.

Noah wrote a long alchemic formula, and Shannon performed the magic, preparing a king’s ransom in diamonds using nothing but locally sourced carbon. Her magical capacity had grown by leaps and bounds while working as Noah’s assistant, simply from how often she cast these spells. As per his words, the last barrel was being strapped down in its wagon by the time he was finished.

“Prepare yourselves; you’re about to meet a dragon,” said Haven, climbing into one of the wagons.

Noah and Shannon did the same, and the caravan began its journey up the mountain slopes. A road had been built ages ago for tribute and was painstakingly maintained, but still, the slightest bump and jostle made everyone nervous. The oxen groaned as they pulled the wagons, but it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. Finally, they arrived at a massive cave, large enough for a 747 to pass through, and extending deep into the heart of the mountain. In front of the cave was a large basin, the size of a backyard pool, and a church bell.

Examining the basin and the surrounding rock, Noah realized that all the stone had been warped into shape. Even the cave was too smooth and uniform to have naturally occurred. The barrels were emptied into the basin, and once it was full, Haven retrieved a hammer and approached the bell. All the workers covered their ears, so Noah and Shannon did the same.

GONG!

Haven struck the bell repeatedly until, finally, a great tremor shook the mountain. The men quivered in fear and got ready to prostrate. Noah stored his wyvern leather coat in his ring, not wanting to cause offense. He could hear movement in the darkness, and soon, a massive shape entered his view. Even he was shocked by what emerged.

The dragon stepped out into the sunlight, the epitome of power and supremacy. His muscular four-legged body was wrapped in black and dark-red scales, each one the size of a knight’s shield and infinitely more durable. He was massive, capable of shredding a basilisk with one swipe of his claws, and as he stepped out of the cave, he stretched his wings, each one several times the size of a football field. He gazed with golden eyes at the puny humans before him and huffed with an almost regal bearing, fitting with the five large horns atop his head reminiscent of a crown.

“The time of year is not right for my awakening. What new vermin threatens my sanctuary?” he grumbled with a voice like thunder.

“Almighty Roroaka, we humbly come before you asking for your help!” Haven shouted. “However, it is not our village that is being attacked. Please, let this man explain.”

He turned to Noah, waiting for him to step forward, but Noah was stunned. Even after more than a hundred lifetimes and everything he had seen—no, he was at a loss for words because of those lifetimes. A hundred lifetimes of study and experience, uncovering the secrets of life and witnessing its most extraordinary and horrific forms, and it was that knowledge that allowed him to properly appreciate the sight before him.

This being was a biological marvel, blasting everything he thought he knew about anatomy out of the water. A creature of such size should collapse under its own weight, but to even fly? Noah could also sense his overwhelming power, greater than Adwith Tarnas and Elisandra, as if he had a nuclear reactor for a heart. Only this world could produce such a life form. But just as he could sense the dragon, so too could Roroaka sense him.

He lowered his head and glared at Noah. “You, you’re different from the others. There is something about you, something powerful, something ... ancient.”

Noah cleared his throat. “When I communed with the spirits of nature, they acknowledged me as an entity similar to them. That connection is what you are sensing. The queen of the elves was able to sense it as well.”

“Hmmm, I do indeed sense the spirits’ blessing, but that is only the result of what I detect, not the source. Very curious. Who are you?”

“I am Noah, the Wandering Spirit, a being that has transcended time, space, and death. This body I inhabit is merely a vessel, one of countless others I have owned throughout the millennia.”

“Perhaps you might be even older than myself.”

“I hope not. I’ve always wanted to meet someone older than me, who understood time on the same scale I do.”

Haven and the other men listened to the conversation with wide eyes, unable to believe what they were hearing. The way Noah and the dragon spoke to each other, the things they were saying, it was as if they were listening to two gods.

“What brings you before me, Wandering Spirit?”

“I seek your aid. In the past, you’ve protected this village from invaders. I ask you to do the same for the city of Colbrand. A monstrous army marches on the capital of Uther, a hundred thousand strong.” The men gasped in shock, trying to imagine an army of such numbers.

“These lands change ownership so often; those names mean nothing to me. I protect this village because it exists within my territory, and its humble citizens brew the drinks I enjoy. I have no intention of aligning myself with some arrogant human king on his gilded throne. Whatever army is threatening to conquer that city, I’d say they deserve to have it.”

“Even if that army was born from Zyrga?”

Roroaka narrowed his eyes. “Say that again?”

“The Profane have reemerged with their sights set on consuming this world. The army marching on Colbrand was once the population of a city, a hundred thousand men, women, and children. They were transformed into unholy abominations, had their freedom and souls stolen from them, and now they are forced to fight.”

“And? Why should I care what happens to Colbrand? Why should I go pick a fight with those demon-worshipping savages? My only desire is to drink my spirits and sleep until the end of time.”

“Trust me, I get it, more than you know. Look, if you don’t want to fight the Profane, I understand, but they’re going to erase everyone who will, starting with the nation of Uther. What happens when they win the war against life and claim dominion over this world? Your village will be an island in an ocean of blood and darkness, and that tide will keep rising. Do you really think they’ll stop at the edge of your territory and respect its borders? What happens when, instead of an army of a hundred thousand, it’s an army of a billion unholy monsters?”

Roroaka growled as he thought over everything Noah had said. All he needed was one more little push. “Tell you what? Just fly us down there before the Profane level the place. All this booze should be worth at least that. And if you help us win the battle, I’ll make you the finest drink known to man, something that’ll put this stuff to shame.”

“Hmph, I’ll call your bluff. Very well, I’ll escort you to the battlefield and do some hunting on the return journey. But first...” Roroaka lowered his head to the basin and inhaled every drop of liquor. “Ah, very nice. Village chief, your offering pleases me.”

Haven kneeled down. “You’re too kind.”

“As for you, Wandering Spirit, climb on my back, and let’s depart.” He held out his massive hand for Noah and Shannon to use as a ramp. Haven and the men were in shock, unable to believe that the dragon they worshipped was offering to let these travelers ride on his back.

Shannon was terrified of the idea of flying, but when she looked at Noah, there was a smile on his face, unlike any expression she had ever seen him wear. “My Lord?”

“Shannon, I have lived for a very long time and have done some outrageous things, but I never thought I’d get the chance to ride a dragon. Seven thousand years, and it just never came up, and now, finally, woo! This is a very special day for me. I did ride a wyvern on Kisara Island, but that doesn’t compare to this.”

The excitement in his voice was palpable, and Shannon giggled. She had always known Noah to be very detached from the world around him, hard to impress or frighten. That mental fortitude and stability was part of why she idolized him. It made him dependable, someone she could rely on no matter what the situation. However, seeing this ancient being actually giddy about something made her heart flutter and erased her fears. She and Noah climbed onto Roroaka’s hand and moved up his arm, with Noah grinning to himself the whole way. They reached his back, settling between two of the large spikes running down his spine.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you drank all that booze on an empty stomach. Are you all right to fly?”

“You should not underestimate dragons. Even if my wings were broken, the sky still belongs to me. However, I will need directions to reach Colbrand.”

“Head south. Do you know the Paleon Channel? The city is where the channel meets the sea.”

“Excellent.”

Haven and the other villagers cleared the area as Roroaka spread his wings, and with a mighty pulse, he launched himself into the sky. Shannon yelped and held onto Noah for dear life, her feet having never left the ground like this, but the man who had flown through space was still grinning. Roroaka turned south and set off across the cloudy expanse. He was watching his speed and altitude, mindful of his passengers. Too fast or too high, and they’d either die from hypothermia or hypoxia. Time was running out for Colbrand, and they were down to the wire, but with the speed at which Roroaka was flying, they would get there in a day at most. There was still a chance to save the city.

Miles of land vanished below Roroaka’s wings with clouds whipping by. The people of Uther, cast in his great shadow, looked to the sky in fear and awe. Countless legends and stories had been built around someone’s claim of witnessing the majesty of a dragon in flight. Their friends and family would deny, dismiss, and even mock the announcement, but the very idea stoked envy. Dragons were known to destroy kingdoms and incinerate armies, turning all human endeavors and strength to ash. They were something to be feared, yet it was impossible for someone to see that shape, to hear those wingbeats, and not feel their heart soar. To be made so small in comparison, but to be reminded of the vastness and wonder of the world, both humbled and inspired.

“Tell me something, Wandering Spirit, have you ever flown like this before?” Noah tried to reply, but couldn’t speak loud enough. “What?” Roroaka asked, turning his head back. With the air blasting by, his titanic voice could reach them, but the same couldn’t be said for the reverse.

Noah summoned his clone and sent it running up Roroaka’s neck and onto his head. “Can you hear me now?” Noah asked through his clone.

“What is this? What did you do?” the dragon countered, unable to feel Noah’s weight.

“Just think of it as me throwing my voice. Now we can properly talk. To answer your question, I have quite a lot of experience flying. I’ve ridden in metal crafts that could exceed the speed of sound and fly from one world to another.”

“What magic could allow such flight?”

“Not magic, machinery; technology from realms far from this one. There are infinite worlds where anything that can possibly happen does happen. I travel from one world to the next, dying in one body somewhere and then gaining a new body somewhere else. Some might call it a gift, but I call it a curse, one I seek to break, lest I continue getting tossed around the multiverse. This world and its magic are my best hope for that.”

“So, what is your stake in this fight? Fighting the Profane is to court death, which jeopardizes your quest. What drives you to risk your life?”

“Part of it is to protect the mother of my unborn child in Sylphtoria, as well as my friends in Colbrand. Part of it is to clear the way of obstacles that might stop me from breaking my curse. Part of it is simply because I was asked to help. A lot of it is because ... I’ve come to like this world. I’ve lived and died more than a hundred times on a hundred different planets, carried across the multiverse through reincarnation, but this is the only one to hold my attention, the only one that I’ve felt comfortable in, where I can be my true self. I hope for this to be the last place I call home, my final life, before I rest.”

“A peaceful rest, something we all dream of. After thousands of years, I chose to forsake reality for the world of dreams, the one place where the sun never sets on the Age of Dragons and Enochians. The villagers’ brew helps me sleep.”

“Do you mind if I ask you something? What exactly happened between the dragons and the Enochians? Everyone I’ve spoken to, every book I’ve read, they all tell a different story. Some say the war between your races was just a proxy war between the gods and spirits.”

“Your first mistake is thinking that we and the Enochians are different races.”

“Shamanism, I figured as much. I noticed your mana flows similarly to a beastman in their animal state, but I didn’t want to assume. I was worried you would take offense if I was wrong. You really are an Enochian, aren’t you? One of the last.”

“I was born as an Enochian, just as all dragons were, but I abandoned my original form a long time ago. Our shaman powers work differently from the lower races. Humans and the like are bound to a totem beast, a creature with which they share an innate relationship. For Enochians, our dragon forms could be thought of as our reversed selves, what happens when you take our elemental power and magic affinity and convert it into a more wild, animalistic form, with our bodies reflecting that power. We Enochians were created by neither the gods nor the spirits, yet we wielded their power and venerated them both, though not always equally.

The Enochians who worshipped the gods maintained their original forms and sought what you described: a world of machines and magic fused together. They saw the world not as something that exists, but something that waits to be made. They built their cities, using the power of the elements to shape nature into something that benefitted them. They prided themselves on their art, scripture, and knowledge, seeing the progression of culture, the cultivation of the mind, and the advancement of society as the one true destiny.

The Enochians who worshipped the spirits donned their dragon forms and thought maintaining the natural order was the proper path. To create is to destroy, to build is to corrupt, to affect is to defile. The world has no need for cities of stone, for paved roads, for ivory towers. It needs to be untouched, to function as it has before our arrival. Everything that should exist already does, and what nature does not provide is unnecessary to the world and soul.”

“Aside from booze, right?”

Roroaka snorted. “I can excuse the farming of crops, and nature granted us fermentation. To live as a dragon is to live a simple life, free from the constructs of civilization, to live in a world shaped by nature rather than built by ambitious minds with agendas. What many would call primitive and mindless, we call natural and balanced. Our mighty bodies are immune to the heat and the cold, the rain and the sun, so we have no need to build homes or cities. Game is easy and bountiful, so we need not farm. I created my den by burning an alcove into the mountain with my breath, simply for privacy and quiet, but that is the limit we dragons allow for altering the world.”

“That ideology still lives on in many beastmen today. Our enemy, Kaisen, sought to use the power of the Profane to destroy the foundations of civilization and have everyone live as animals, with the only authority being power, and the strong ruling the weak.”

“For our beliefs to be hijacked by a wretch of the Profane, despicable.”

“So what went wrong?”

“It was no single thing. There can never be peace as long as there is more than one belief in this world. The Enochians were not above war, and did not shy away from a chance to use their power to make the world as they envisioned it. They fought amongst each other as often as they fought against us. The cataclysmic powers unleashed in the Enochian Wars repeatedly brought the world to ruin. We dragons were no different. We were made arrogant by our powerful bodies and sought supremacy over each other. However, the ongoing conflict between Enochians and dragons didn’t escalate into full-scale war until the arrival of the angels.”

“Angels?”

“Beings of pure elemental energy, believed by many to be the progeny of the gods. A handful came to this world, falling from the stars. Such strange beings; alive, but not really, possessing only the most basic, bare-bones foundation of sentience. They didn’t communicate in any way we could understand, didn’t appear able to procreate, and were driven solely by the instincts of self-preservation and erasing those different from themselves. The Enochians, powerful in the elemental forces, were spared destruction, perhaps recognized as allies in some way. Dragons, however, wielding wild power like the spirits of nature, were regarded as threats and annihilated on sight.

Their arrival and instinctive antagonism towards us galvanized the Enochians, and that’s how the war started. It didn’t end until both sides were eliminated, and the world was left in ruin. Those of us who remained were left broken, if not in mind and body, then in our bloodlines. Enochians sired the elves, dwarves, and other lower races, while the dragons sired the wyvern race, having a fraction of our power and none of our intelligence. Honestly, I believe that our downfall was partly due to something beyond our control. I can’t explain it, but it feels like the world is running out of magic. It’s less abundant than before, and I think that’s why our descendants are so much weaker than us.”

“I think you may be right. I spoke with a member of the Profane who said that the power of Zyrga is fading from their kind. They seek new ways to build their ranks because they’ve lost the ability to produce venom. What happened to you may be happening to them.”

“For the sake of this world, I can only hope.”

The two continued talking, Noah about his past lives and experiences, and Roroaka about the Age of Enochians and the events that followed. He flew through the day and the night, with Noah and Shannon sleeping on his back. The winds were cold, but they had blankets to keep them warm. The next day, Colbrand entered their view, but that was not all. A massive blast crater had been carved into the landscape, reminiscent of an atomic bomb.

“By the spirits,” Shannon gasped.

Noah sent his clone up to Roroaka’s head. “Can you circle that crater?”

“As you wish.” The dragon turned, swooping around the crater with Noah scanning for signs of the fiend army.

“I think they’ve all been wiped out,” said Noah.

“It seems that way. Wandering Spirit, you should know I’ve sensed power like this before. The mana lingering in the air, it is undoubtedly from an angel attack.”

“You’re saying an angel destroyed the Profane army?”

“Easily. This is the kind of destruction they bring. I don’t know where it went, but I’d best not linger here in case it returns. Your city would be annihilated in the crossfire.”

Roroaka landed between the crater and the city, and Noah and Shannon slid off. Riding a dragon had been an amazing experience, but they were glad to be back on solid ground.

“Thank you for all your help. I truly appreciate it,” said Noah.

“It’s rather a shame we didn’t get here in time for the battle. You missed your chance for a dramatic entrance before saving the day.”

“Honestly, I’m really disappointed too. I mean, damn. That would have been such a great way to arrive for the fighting. Still, I’m sure the Profane will give us plenty more chances.”

“For that, you’ll need to make that drink you mentioned, the one that would put the villagers’ brew to shame. I’m quite curious.”

“You could always shrink down to your Enochian form and join us in the city. I’m friends with a brothel owner who sells it. We call it Knight’s Ambrosia. You could enjoy a drink, some good music, and we’ll even get you laid. There are no dragon girls, but I’m sure we can find someone you’d like.”

“I think not. I am a dragon through and through, and I find cities distasteful, but someday, I would like to taste that ambrosia.”

“Another time, then. I’ll have a big barrel ready for you.”

“My Lord, we have company.” Noah turned around and saw a small army of soldiers and knights galloping towards their location. What they hoped to do against a dragon was unclear, but they had to be able to say they investigated the event.

“Then this is where I shall leave you. I enjoyed our talks, Wandering Spirit. I’m sure we shall meet again.”

“I look forward to it. Farewell, my friend.”

Roroaka gave a mighty flap of his wings and returned to the sky, kicking up a dust cloud. Once he was gone, Shannon cleared her throat. “I was half-expecting Roroaka to be a female, and you’d have to seduce her.”

Noah chuckled. “So was I. I just didn’t want to say it.”

As the cloud settled, the knights and soldiers arrived, and leading them was a familiar face.

“Leuca Aithorn, it’s been a while,” said Noah, shedding his adult face for his natural one.

“Noah, is that you?” he asked, bewildered.

“The one and only. Accept no substitutes.”

The many knights and soldiers with Aithorn were shocked by the name. Noah? THE Noah? The Wandering Spirit had returned to Colbrand while riding a dragon, no less. They expected Aithorn to leap off his horse, spear in hand, aiming straight for the rogue’s heart, but to their disbelief, the notoriously icy elf calmly dismounted and walked over, shaking Noah’s hand.