Vignette - Lecture on Dragons

It has to be seen to believe. You have all heard this phrase before, yes? Dragons take that simple saying to an extent no one was prepared for. To see a dragon is to feel awe. To feel fear. We even call it Dragon fear, to distinguish it from ordinary garden varieties of terror.

Why though? Why is it a different thing? It's because there is a purpose. The fear inspires awe, it inspires belief. Everyone who sees a Dragon instinctively fears it and thus believes in it. They can’t imagine a being that can be more powerful, more dangerous. They feed that conclusion with belief and it becomes true. Dragons are unkillable, are unstoppable. A true force of nature.

But they are that way because we believe.

-Purported to be from the Runefather, Unauthenticated

Chapter 26

“We need you in the scrying room now Timothy!” Arthur’s yell echoed down to Timothy’s workshop.

Startled, Timothy flubbed a cut in an essence light storage card he had been working on for the last several minutes. The planned intent ran cross grained to itself as the magic field swirled into chaos. What could have been a neat rune suddenly wasn’t. And chaos leaped back up the mental feed into the mind that made it. Long years of training kicked in, channeling the river rather than attempting to stop it. Riding out the flood instead of being washed away by it. He managed to hold on through it, but he did not do so for free.

“God damn lizard loving bastards-” the curses and invectives continued to dribble from his mouth as he stumbled towards the ladder. Barely able to see through the backlash he smashed his hand into a rung instead of grabbing it. The cursing intensified as he closed his eyes entirely and carefully felt his way onto and up the ladder.

“Dammit Arthur, are you trying to kill me? My head feels like the alarm drum, and everyone is taking a swing!”

“Imminent beast wave.” He succinctly one upped Timothy’s complaints.

“Fuck me…!”

The alarm drum began to beat, four pulses followed by a pause warning all and sundry to return to the hold and batten down the hatches.

“Murphy has his cold hard hands in this one. The Nellie is on the return leg of the Paradise trip-”

Timothy winced, opening his mouth but Arthur was still going.

“-with 5 diplomats aboard.”

He shut his mouth for a few moments, trying to think of a response. Nothing, “When it rains…”

“Exactly. Regi is on his way up and can tell you where to look so please find the Nellie and provide overwatch.”

Timothy ducked back down to his workshop, taking a quick drink of ginger tea. Spicey or no it was a godsend when his head was aching like it was now. It was much stronger than the first few batches. Jenney had supercharged it, each generation of the plant seeming to be more effective than the last.

It worked, if slowly. With his headache on the way to recovery, he grabbed a green barreled ELR and his armored cloak and medallion then rushed back to the ladder. Half way up he hesitated, then dropped back down to grab the long range removal disks. He still wasn’t comfortable with letting anyone else know about them, but needs must as the Devil was most definitely driving.

It made for an awkward armful climbing up the ladder, but he was no longer seeing double so he managed. He barely had it set up before Regi climbed through the hatch. Greetings were very briefly exchanged before it got down to business.

“Mile marker 18, they are through the swamp and rushing back. As soon as Arthur let me know I had them drastically increase speed. They should make it back in under an hour.”

“Is it safe to move that fast in the river? I thought you kept it under 15 mph normally in fear of snags and floating tree trunks.”

“Go fast and risk a snag, or go slow and definitely get caught in the beast wave. Not much of a choice. Better the Devil we know.”

Timothy adjusted the pool's command sphere before activating it “Arthur, how long before the wave?”

The familiar gorgeous snaking river faded in. It felt unfair that so much violence was on the way yet the view remained serene and beautiful. He shook the thought away, elevating the view to get a wide angle shot of the river. The nellie appeared up stream of his estimate, a black seed trailing a white wake as she raced against the current.

A few sliding adjustments and she was centered in the pool, still small but now the surrounding countryside was visible for a mile in all directions.

“I am not sure, It's only the second one we have seen after all. Best guess is about an hour. Last time the pigs got restless for a short time, then bolted in our direction. Even though we have seen them sprint or jump as high as thirty miles an hour I am assuming they will move around ten for any reasonable distance. We have killed most of the pigs that have moved inside of five miles up or downstream. We even cleared them back a similar distance in the southern prairie. But the deep jungle is a write off.” It would be damn suicidal to go that deep, Timothy shook his head. Hopefully clearing three directions would help.

Timothy scanned the pool an additional time before speaking, “I am not seeing any hogs close in here, but if I do spot them are they a danger?”

“Yes, even as wide as the river is they can jump most of it with a full impact release. I doubt they would be very accurate with that much of a jump, but if enough jump at once... You get the idea.” Timothy did indeed get the picture. If enough hogs hit at once the motion wards would turn into an IED in the hold.

“We reworked the bunker walls with that issue in mind right?” Timothy didn’t take his eyes from the pool while speaking, swinging the viewpoint in increasingly large arc’s to the sides and forward of the nellie’s location.

“Hopefully. It should work, but it's still extremely dangerous. We have reinforced boxes around the motion wards. If it detonates it should direct the boom outside the walls. Should. Even if it works we are still going to have casualties. The user still has to touch the card to use it after all.”

Timothy winced. That was going to suck. Like a hand stuck holding on to a grenade. He would have to work on that. Some way to activate it without touching it. No time now.

Arthur sighed before continuing “It will happen you understand? It’s the same old story, in this world as in the last. You train people as much as you can, but when it hits the fan some will panic and forget. If they are lucky they might learn to do better the next time.”

Regi grimly nodded his agreement. Two sets of eyes looked hollow and haunted for a second.

It was shortly thrown off to focus on the current situation. “Did the hog killing strategy delay this wave? It's only been, what, just shy of four months?” Timothy asked, still panning the pool over the surroundings.

“Probably, the first one came after two months. This is double that time. Or it could just be a natural change. No real way to be sure. Even with cleaning out what passels we could, this one looks nastier than the last. I hate to ascribe any good motivations to him but the Proctor might have arranged for the first wave to be smaller.”

Timothy jerked the pool backward and zoomed in to frame a large passell madly charging down the river bank towards Runehold. “For what we are about to receive…”

“20, 30 , 40 … there are a good 50 of them in that passell alone!” Regi exclaimed.

“They don’t appear to be targeting the Nellie at least. They are a good mile ahead of her and charging towards us. Given the relative speeds she should overtake them in five or six minutes. If they can kill some of the pigs ahead of time it might draw some predators away from us… Thoughts Arthur, Regi? Is it worth risking the Paradisians?”

“Do it, Regi can you let them know? The Paradisians are going to be at risk either way. Might as well lighten our load. Jaraptors just want meat, they don't care where they get it. Feed them here and we might save ourselves a real headache.”

“Done, they are preparing the weapons now. A bit of a moot point though, I am willing to bet that the pigs will attack them when they come into view. All that active magic might as well be an all you can eat buffet sign.”

Timothy snorted, imagining guard pigs sniffing out magic instead of truffles. He waved away the inquiring glances. It was a bad time for jokes. Instead of dwelling on it he moved the image back to Runehold. Now directly overhead, the view showed the hold and a mile radius circle around it.

A mile circle that was temporarily clear, even if the edge of the jungle covering the extreme northern edge of the view could be hiding numerous beasts. “Where is Da?” Timothy glanced around the room surprised that it was just the 3 of them.

“He and Ma are organizing the bunkers and Jenney is prepped and ready in the med bay.” Regi had his eyes closed, following his connections to check for issues. “Everyone is in their assigned positions. Civilians are all deep underground, all the choke points are closed, locked and defended. They even beat the response time from our last drills.”

A few adjustments and the pool was back on the Nellie. “Probably the last time I will have a spare moment to check on her,” Timothy mused as he scanned the surroundings. “Do we have anyone ready to open and close the boathouse after she gets back?”

“Gabriel is waiting with the water gate open.” Regi knocked on the wooden side table before continuing “since the only amphibious threats don’t seem to come this far north of the swamp, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Timothy nodded, it took five or six people working together to pull up the essence wood porculus, but only one to drop it. He paused, there was no reason he couldn’t use a motion storage card and a control wand to raise the porculus, he just hadn’t thought about it before. Then again, leaving jobs for non wizards was a priority, having a set of six norms work the gate might be a better solution. He would leave that with the rest of the council later.

Enough!

He refocused, checking the path between the Nellie and Runehold at a very fast speed, definitely missing anything small or subtle, but it was hard to miss fifty hogs running shoulder to shoulder. Even the twelve foot tall prairie grasses, cleaning out the close in passels did have some negative aspects, couldn't hide that much movement. He spotted three such groups spread out along the river heading their way.

“At least 3 passels west of here along the river. If we assume a similar number in the other three directions we have 700 odd pigs on the way.

Arthur grimaced at the number, “Silver lining is that they are spread out pretty good. We should be able to handle them in bits and pieces rather than all at once. Also the half from the other side of the river will have to brave the piranhas.”

“Never figured you for rose colored glasses Arthur” Regi laughed a bit bitterly. “Piranhas get full like anything else. One hog is already an awful lot of meat. I doubt they will clear out the numbers much.”

“700, how are we for essence light storage cards?” Timothy had created the infrastructure, but he didn’t activate it on a regular basis. Arthur and Papa Joe had taken that over very early on. All he did now was keep turning out charge cards.

Still they had six months and over twenty five charge boxes. They should be good to go. Should.

“354 cards available, all but your recently made cards are fully charged, we used the boxes to top it all off as soon as the first signs were spotted. 50 rounds per card for the green barrels, 8 per red.” Arthur calmly rattled off the numbers from memory. “ A mix of five to one in favor of the green barrels. If it wasn’t for the dragon I would push for more red, but If ‘himself’ doesn’t get enough giant boar for his dinner he might settle for long pig.”

Timothy and Regi shuddered in tandem.

The dials spun at Timothy's deft touch and the pool shifted back to the overhead view of runehold. Already pigs were showing up at the edges. “It’s starting! Are you heading down to the bunkers Arthur?”

A moot question, as Timothy turned in time to see Arthur's head disappearing down the hatch. He was a spry man despite the grey in his hair. Regi grimaced as he stayed seated. Like Timothy he was too valuable to be risked in the bunkers. He could do more good coordinating and managing communication throughout the brotherhood. The enforced safety still chafed him.

“Stay safe Arthur!”

Timothy carefully rotated the central gyroscopic ring of the control sphere, pointing it towards the north before rotating the distance dial a single tenth of a mile click out. The pool focused on the open field between the jungle and Runehold. The curving river bounded both sides of the field for around half the open areas length, providing a killing field that would soon have to live up to its name.

Killing fields that had been prepared long since for the coming struggle. The river bank was lined with multiple rows of essence wood spikes set at a 45 degree angle. Small ditches and hills had been dug in rows across the area as well. They hoped that the combined obstacles would stop, or at least slow down the standard hog tactic of turning themselves into porcine missiles. Fixing the walls after the last wave had been a pain.

They were not expected to hold by themselves. Without active magic defenses the spikes would be crushed sooner rather than later. The inner defenses of layered motion and protection wards would then take the load.

Shovel poles extended out of the bunker openings providing another layer of projectile defense. Add in the ELR’s ready and waiting to reduce hogs into cooked ham and it seemed inconceivable that the hold could be in any danger.

That was the real danger. Hubris. They had been in the world for only six months. What didn’t they know yet? The dragon could likely stomp them from existence. What else existed out there that could do the same?

Thoughts for later, it was go time!

The drums ceased their beating, their task complete. They would hear them again when they beat the all clear. When, Timothy promised himself. When, not if.

Into the sudden silence Gareth's voice rose cheerful and triumphant. “♪You could never know what it's like ♪” Inspiring as it was, inspiration was not the purpose. The anticipated massed audio assault of “SQUEEEEEEEEL” fell into the dulcet tones and drowned. Timothy chuckled drily, He guessed they were indeed still standing.

Damn Gareth! Go on, rock it man!

The ELR’s began to speak, but in keeping with the sheer weirdness that was magic, they spoke to the rhythm and kept the time.

It’s awesomely ridiculous! I really love magic.

The beat was poetic but the results were not. Lances of coherent essence light flashed out in volleys edying the charging wave of hogs into small islands of steaming, overcooked pork. Islands, but not a shore. The tide came on unstopped and unstoppable, pounding into the spikes. The first impact was absorbed up and down the ragged line, the pigs magic gift producing a nausea-inducing visual audio disconnect. A sudden stop should have noise, it should have shock. This had neither for a brief moment, then the next rank rammed into the backs of the first and pushed them onto and in some cases through the spikes.

Sound restarted with familiar pained squeals, still blessedly dampened by Gareth's impromptu concerto. A massive number of deaths occurred, but it was not one sided. Spikes snapped off like matchsticks under multiton impacts. The first wave's momentum at last guttered out, some having destroyed the first row of spikes, some driving into the second or third row.

Bleeding and broken, the corpses formed a ramp for the second wave, lofting the pigs above the spikes and starting that same old game of living lawn darts.

The porcine projectiles accelerated to around thirty miles an hour in an instant, launching themselves over both obstacles and the moat itself. The first few hit interlocking shovel fields, the old woodchipper effect no doubt filling the bunker with its disgusting byproducts. Each hog shredded drastically reduced the magic charge in the shovel and the shovels fields were not seamless. Hogs slid through the gaps to impact on the motion wards, accordioning suddenly in midair before dropping slowly through the field into the moat.

Each impact filling a significant chunk of a motion ward storage card. Five impacts per card safely. Then Boom, and boom was bad. The men were trained to stop at four, but training was one thing.

This was life.

Timothy held no hope that they could get through this with no failures in training. Life was not that forgiving. They just had to have faith that the safety locks would hold.

Still there was hope that they could keep it to an absolute minimum. Essence light and shovels were doing a bang up job of keeping the impacts off the motion wards, so far. But the tide had just started to come in and many more waves were visible in the pools depths.

He made what small preparations he could, setting up his ranged material removal disks, six of them, fully charged. Each capable of hundreds of uses at this close range. Funny when it would only give four if used at Paradise. He maneuvered the first small field to the shore opposite one of the gaps in the motion wards. Activating it before the next pig could jump he began to build up a wall of bodies to redirect future waves. The chaos of battle was good for some things, detection was highly unlikely in scrum occurring below. Each use was a matter of careful timing and prepositioning. It would only remove a cubic inch of material after all. Brains were the primary target.

The enchanted disk sat snuggly on top of a bucket. Allowing it’s grizzly droppings to remain sealed away. No smell or sight would give away its nature. Scared people were dangerous people, and the thought of a weapon that killed silently and nearly undetectably at a distance would not go over well.

Even as he surgically killed hogs up and down the line the waves continued to beat upon the Hold, shovels began to fall silent, their mana emptied, and more pigs began to impact the motion wards. Wards that predictably, were not always turned off on time. An explosion of dust and fragments shot from the eastern side of the Northern bunker. Timothy gave a silent prayer that the safety box had done its job but there was no time to check. A moment later ELR rounds resumed vollying from the firing slit.

It must have worked...

“One dead and one wounded.” Regi spoke with a mechanical forced calm.

Fuck, only partially worked then.

Missing its motion ward the next few pigs impacted the spikes on the thick outer walls of the bunker. Protection runes gleamed on the surface preventing damage at the expense of significant mana from their reserves.

Another motion ward was triggered, closing the gap a few moments later. If it was going according to plan it would be two wards, each trading off after several hits, trading out cards early to prevent more disasters. Timothy didn’t notice what did in the previous ward but it was probably just poor luck, possibly multiple hogs impacting simultaneously.

At least we will be able to fuel the Nellie for quite some time…

“I haven't seen any of your spells going off Regi, what are you waiting for?”

“For a need, brother. So far the defenses are doing their job, I have several emergency spells prepared, but I'll save my energy, my mana, until it’s needed.”

Timothy grunted sourly at that. It made sense but it was hard to hold back the urge to just throw everything at the hordes threatening their home. The indignity of being threatened demanded a sharp response.

Best block is a missile a week before the fight…

The foolishness of ego on display. He forced the thought away.

A quick twitch removed a chunk out of the top of a pig's skull in the lead up to a jump.

Looking at the overall picture Timothy noticed a problem. “The piranhas must be full already, we are getting swimmers from across the river.” He thought for a moment then chuckled darkly, “Regi, ask the Nellie to drag a chunk of bloody meat all the way home. If we don't have enough piranhas then we should invite more to the party.”

“Not sure if that will work the way you think, but I passed the message.”

Moving considerably slower in the water a large number of Hogs were approaching the lightly defended southern bunkers, including the opened boat house.

Fuck. “Have Gabriel drop the porculus, then ask for some norm volunteers to come pull it up when the Nellie returns.

Regi didn’t say anything for a moment, then a branching bolt of lightning as thick as a humans wrist struck the waters. The hogs convulsed as the stream of lighting continued to ark into their midst. Muscles refused to obey their owners and water was inhaled into quivering lungs. Death was not quick, but it was inevitable.

“Was that an emergency?”

“Target of opportunity, brother.”

“Might not need the piranhas if you keep that up. Except for clean up..”

“Worry about that after we survive, Timothy, keep your eye in the sky open for ‘himself’ will you?”

“Why bother?” Even if he spotted the dragon, what the hell could they do about it. Sure they had trump cards. But enough to handle a dragon?

No.

Hell No.

The beast wave continued for several hours as new passels came in spurts and drabs. Only the Nellie’s safe, if somewhat battered, return broke up the gut wrenching, fearful monotony of the assaults. A pig had slipped through her defenses and made contact with the Protected hull at high speed. The wards held but the shock threw the boat's inhabitants bouncing about like marbles. Multiple broken limbs and concussions graced her crew but no deaths.

The blood trail she left in her wake attracted a veritable horde of piranhas upstream to clean up the mess. A job shared by the dreaded appearance of ‘Himself’.

A cloak of fear coated the land. Once felt never to be forgotten. Minds shut down and legs gave out before the coming of early night beneath the massive wings.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” Holding off the terror by main strength of will Timothy at last silenced the pointless whimpers and activated the pool once more. The dragon imperiously feasted upon the piled bodies, a ruler unconcerned with actions of mere mortals about it. None would presume upon its dignity to interrupt the feast.

The very magic field pulsed about the dragon with its every movement, shapes and almost recognizable patterns coating its red tinted black scales, hovering about its horns and flickering with every twitch of its tail. Fear, not forgotten but pushed aside for a moment Timothy became entranced. He had seen none of this in their last encounter.

A few of the patterns vaguely reminded him of protection runes, as much as a thatch hut reminded him of Versailles . Both recognizably buildings, homes even but to compare them was insulting. Even if it was insulting he was pretty sure their was a relationship. More convoluted spells and spell forms arced about in dizzying twists and braids hiding much of what Timothy thought he recognized for seconds at a time, then they might resurface and the dance would begin anew.

There was something more to the labyrinthian tangle of spells cloaking the gigantic form but the aura of fear conspired with Timothy’s ignorance to prevent him from putting his finger on what, if anything, it ment.

Silence too thick to cut lingered for interminable minutes until, sated at last, ‘Himself’ leaned back on his hind legs in preparation for takeoff. A dignified movement abruptly arrested by the unthinking arrogance of a chameleon cat, driven nearly to madness by the temptation of the feast laid before it yet beyond its reach. It slid forward for a bite of scrap, barely leaving the shade of the jungle's edge.

Impertinence that was answered immediately, a king's dignity cannot be questioned. A glance and a snort shot out a fan of light blue transparent clouds. Clouds that revealed their origin as the cat and its surrounding exploded into more naturally colored flames in an instant. The new yellow flames were but an afterthought, the lightest touch of the dragon's breath had charred through flesh and destroyed bone. Not even the dirt beneath it was spared. Only a crater remained as a warning.

The gibbering started up again “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck…” The fragile mental balance falling apart for several moments before Timothy could reassert control.

Control that was no longer needed as the cloak was withdrawn. Alone again in his own head Timothy took a long, shuddering breath. A breath echoed across the room by Regi.

A shared glance led to a forced, pathetic smile “We survived again, brother mine.” Regi, unsteadily climbed to his feet and stumbled towards the ladder. “Let’s go see about the butcher's bill”