carrarn
patreon
[rework] Minglings - chapter 33: Lonely volcano
🕑 Added 2022-10-27 08:10:33 +0000 UTCWhen, in the early morning, they finally arrived at the giant tree, Jake was carrying four Kobolds on his back and barely able to feel his legs.
The journey through the jungle was even more difficult than he had thought. Out of the water, the blue-scaled Kobolds' had lost their sudden influx of energy, showing how worn down they were. He'd gotten lots of requests for a rest, and it had taken some growling to get them to keep moving.
Finally back, he groaned as he staggered out of the jungle line and saw Bolyr rush towards him with a few other Kobolds behind. The blue-armed Kobold looked weary and had a fresh wound along his cheek. A sudden worry grew as he stared at the other hard.
"Jake! It is good that you are back. We need to talk," Bolyr said, meeting his eyes.
Jake looked behind Bolyr, towards the tree and the cabins, and noticed only very few Kobolds were around. The bad feeling from seeing the wound on Bolyr's face worsened. "Where is Mason?"
Bolyr looked at him and shook his head, a pained expression crossing his face.
--
Jake stared at Mason's shuddering form, lying on his back next to a cabin. A black spot lay next to him, and Jake recognized it immediately. Bolyr had told him that Emma was sleeping in the cabin behind it. Although she wasn't changing yet, it wouldn't be that long now. Tir and Ter were with her and would warn them if anything happened.
"Sandra started almost right after you left, and halfway through, Mason began."
Trying to suppress his burning desire to jump into Mason's mind and talk with him, Jake shook his head. "Where are the others?"
Bolyr waved at the jungle behind them. "The purple one, Mell'iss-a? She is out hunting with Tergin and a few others. The rest are either sleeping or getting more wood for huts, and-.
Mason's groan caused Bolyr to fall silent. Mason's muscular golden and red body arched up until he only touched the ground with his shoulders and heels. Jake jumped forward, pressed his clawed hands on his chest, and jumped inside his friend's mind.
The world became an inferno of golden and red flames with a brightly burning cyclone in the middle. Mason hung before it, struggling against the pull of the colossal whirlpool of red and gold behind him.
"Finally! Took you long enough!"
Mason's roaring voice was reduced to a soft whisper, but Jake was shocked that he could even get his voice through the insane suction.
"You had better find your way back to me! No matter what happens here, I will stay on this island! Don't die, don't get lost, and don't stay and get married to have a bunch of dragon babies! Come find me, or I will grow old and die here you bloody fool!" Jake almost choked on his own words, but the resolute nod his friend gave showed he had heard. He knew from the look he got that unless Mason died, he would find him.
"See you soon!" Mason's voice drowned away as he stopped resisting and got pulled inside the whirlpool.
A powerful mental shove ejected him from the mindscape, and Jake staggered back a few steps. He stared in horror at Mason's body as it slowly turned black as tar and began melting away.
You had better take care of yourself!
--
Mason felt his anger surge as he continued to struggle with the other, more primitive mind. It had been going on for hours, and the other consciousness continued to resist him! Didn't Jake say that it went easy and voluntarily? He was tired of this darkness!
As he pushed against the invisible bonds trying to hold him inside the inner regions of this body's mindscape, he snarled as his rage surged, and he lashed out in some way.
Finally, something gave.
Sensing the other's weakness, and with a mental roar, he crushed the paltry remaining resistance and felt the consciousness splinter. As the resistance vanished and control over his body and mind returned, the glowing, splintered fragments in his mind began dimming rapidly. An odd desire made him want to engulf them, but he held back. Uncertain, he focused on one of the shards.
A tiny animation played, showing a rodent snatched and eaten by a giant flying fire bird.
Those are memories!
Hastily he absorbed the shards before they could dissipate to god knows where. A stream of memories and sensations began finding a place between his own, expanding his consciousness, and his awareness ballooned.
Is this what it feels like to do drugs? he thought.
Parts of what he thought were him and of how he thought about the world at large began changing as he felt the other's young but powerful desires merge with his. A tiny silver of worry faded almost instantly. When it finally stopped, he felt odd and out of balance.
Panic tickled the back of his mind, but the unbalanced feeling didn't last long. With a sudden mind numbing jar, everything in his mind clicked together like a puzzle, and he felt whole—more whole than ever before.
Ugh, where am I? he thought.
He was lying somewhere with his eyes closed. He knew that much. Curiously, he knew there wasn't any immediate danger -that's not my memory!- and he carefully examined his body. It didn't feel new, but familiar, like a well-fitting old trouser.
There was, however, an overwhelming hunger and an annoying gnawing in his stomach. Opening his eyes, he looked around. He was lying stretched out on a large slab of black porous material that tickled something in the back of his mind. Red glowing fissures ran all along its length.
Let me guess. It's a volcano, he thought as he pushed himself up.
He was lying on an outcrop in the middle of a crater, and as he looked around, memories and feelings that weren't actually his tried to make him believe that they were.
Mason snorted. The previous mind had only thought of the place as warm and safe.
He sat back down and inspected his body, feeling no sense of discomfort as he did. Still, he immediately saw that it had changed when he took control. Many of the red scales his new memories told him should be there were gone. They had changed into a light golden color with red borders. The few that remained red seemed to form patterns similar to those of tigers or other large cats.
He grinned as he stared at the back of his golden-scaled arm.
"Can't wait to show Jake. I look better than him again, just like always!"
With a wide grin on his face, Mason moved towards the side of the outcrop. Ten meters below him was the hot glowing eye of the volcano. Even from this distance, he could feel the heat on his plated face. Even with his improved scales, he instinctively knew he wasn't capable of going in. The lava would burn his scales off. But not forever! If he ate and grew enough? Something told him nothing was impossible then!
Looking up, he was surprised to see it was night, stars twinkling between the thin, softly glowing cloud cover. From how bright it was, he'd expected it to be dark, and he could see just fine. Though, now he looked closer, he saw that everything beyond the glow of the lava was tinged orange.
He scanned around for something of interest, but there was only rock and lava, and his stomach growled. His hunger would have to wait a bit. Even with night vision, he wasn't going out hunting in the dark. First, he needed more information. He moved back to where he had woken up and began working through the new memories.
It didn't take that long because there weren't many, but most of them were terrible.
So no siblings for me.
Mason felt a stab of pain when he realized he had not managed to protect them. Images of giant two-headed birds ripping eggs and tiny bodies apart flashed through his mind. A surge of grief rippled through him, but it quickly turned to a boiling, blistering anger. Deep down, he knew it wasn't his anger and pain, but he couldn't separate it anymore.
He roared at the sky, trying to get the anger gone.
Hosts of red energy rushed toward him like fireflies, and he felt a burning, itching sensation at the back of his throat. He tried to dislodge it, roaring louder while scraping his throat. A torrent of fire rushed out of his maw, lighting up the entire volcano. Like a small infernal twister, it rotated and slammed against the wall. Parts of black rock exploded outwards while the center turned orange and began to melt.
A few seconds later, the hunger caught up with his anger, and the fire disappeared as he stopped roaring. Drawing a few breaths, Mason grinned a weary grin. He knew from his memories that the other had not been able to do this yet.
"Look ma! I'm an honest to god fire breathing Dragon now!"
Grinning at his lame joke, he began racking through the rest of the memories he had inherited as he tried to ignore how hollow his words had echoed.
He continued until he was tired, then lay back down, deciding this was probably the safest spot anyway. From his memories, no other things would come here.
After a restless sleep, he woke up to the pain of an empty stomach and a stone lodged into his loin. With a grunt, he got up and saw that the sky above was turning gray, indicating it would be a day soon.
"Fine, let's get some food before I go all crazy like Jake," Mason muttered. He was glad he had inherited the memories of flying and wouldn't have to fumble about, possibly falling into some pit of lava.
He spread his wings and jumped up while flapping, a rapidly growing rush of childlike joy at the sensation of going up.
A second later, he passed over the hot air current from a large lava pit and was pushed up. As he shot out of the volcano, he already knew what to expect, but the sight of the dismal black island shocked him nonetheless.
A dark and dangerous sea surrounded a black ring of cooled-down lava stone with, in the center, the volcano he was hovering above now. There were no plants or trees, and from his memories, he knew the only water came from a small spring on a similar island a little distance away.
Without bothering to look around, he headed toward the other island.
This is not going to be a cakewalk, walk in the park, or anything else involving walking or cake, he thought, wondering if he would even make it to the other island as hungry as he was.
--
Mason felt helpless as he stared at the giant, two-headed terror birds perched all over the lush mountain. From his spot, behind an array of loose boulders next to the shore, he counted almost a hundred. Just before landing, he had passed one in the air, and it had screeched at him dangerously, a hungry look in its four eyes.
The terror birds had owl-heads attached to long, grey necks without feathers. Brown and black feathers covered their heads and body, thin and oily. The one passing him had been at least as large as he was, which freaked him out. Worse, the further up the mountain he looked, the larger the birds became, and at the top sat a behemoth of a bird. It must have been three times as big as the others, and it glanced down at the verdant green island below.
Although he was too far, he imagined it had an arrogant look in its piss-yellow eyes.
So, one island with a volcano, one island with water, and this is the only place to hunt for food. Lovely!
He took his eye away from the mountain and began examining the dense woods that covered the thin stretch of coast close to him. The trees that grew up the side of the mountain were too spaced out for him to hide. That meant any hunting he would do was going to be done in the lowest region, or he would be the one hunted.
Still, there wasn't really another option...
He folded his wings and ran from boulder to boulder across the gray, stony beach, stopping below one of the thick, gnarly trees.
A mangrove, or something like that, he thought, as he remembered an old documentary.
The roots of the trees rose from the ground and created a vast web of glistening black roots where they connected together, wrapping around each other.
Careful, he headed deeper inside the dark, moist forest, searching for a good ambush spot. The memories of the other were slowly integrating with his own, and it almost felt as if he had been here before. He'd barely finished the thought when he saw a tree he -no, the other one- had used before.
Trying to keep himself together, Mason climbed across a root that almost reached one of the lowest branches. It was as wide as he would be if he stretched out his wings and perched at the edge, looking down and waiting.
Two or three hours later, he wasn't sure anymore as he'd lost track, his patience was running thin.
What a fucking formidable hunter I am! There has to be a better way to do this.
Still, with the dangerous flock of birds above and his growing hunger weakening, he persisted and remained. He could be patient if he had to be!
Another thirty minutes later, something moved through the dark mud below the network of roots. It kept below the lower roots for another minute before finally crawling into the relative open: a long, grey-brown insect made up of dozens of segments, each covered by a long bendable carapace and two long antennae on its head that were probing around, touching everything in front of it.
Mason felt his stomach cramp, but he wasn't going to jump the gun. He had, and at the same time, hadn't ever done this, the duality of the sensation making him on edge.
Should have gobbled up those memories faster, he thought, as his long tongue licked his lips.
If he fucked up now, how long would he have to wait next time? Staying perfectly still, he waited for the perfect opportunity. A few minutes later, one presented itself. The thing moved towards an area with a large gap between the roots above, wide enough for him to fit. It wasn't directly below the tree, though, so he'd have to jump.
With held breath and complete focus, he waited until the last moment before leaping. He didn't spread his wings but trusted he could jump far enough.
Mid-air and halfway to his goal, he knew he'd miscalculated and would fall short.
Shit!
Desperate, he rushed to open his wings just in time for him to glide the remaining distance. Sadly, the loud flap of his filling wings alerted the giant centipede. It reared up on its front end, snapping with enormous mandibles at Mason.
With blind disregard for his surroundings, Mason folded one wing and tumbled sideways. He felt the tips of something scrape his side before slamming into a cluster of roots. Mind foggy and with bright spots dancing around, the sound of something slithering his way woke him up with a start.
He scrambled up from where he lay sprawled over the roots, turning to the centipede which was almost on him. He was about to open his mouth to burn it when he recalled the terror birds, made a snap-shot decision, and jumped to the side, using his sharp claws to hold onto the slippery roots.
The centipede swiveled and turned at the drop of a hat, bridging the gap so fast it looked like a magic trick.
Fuck those birds!
As adrenaline and anger took control, Mason scraped his throat and roared a column of fire into the centipede's mandibled face. Like burning plastic to a torch, the plates around the mandibles began bubbling, turning gray and white. With a soft plop, the eyes popped like squashed grapes. The centipede yanked its top back, slamming into a nearby root as it began trashing in silent agony.
Before Mason could even congratulate himself, a loud screech came from the top of the mountain, quickly followed by dozens more.
Damnit, this is just not my lucky day, he thought as he jumped forward. Waiting for a moment when the centipede trashed forward, he grabbed the squirming centipede's head and dug his claws in deeply. With a good hold, he began flapping like crazy.
Like hell, he was going to leave his kill behind!
It was like trying to drag a car, and the ligaments in his shoulders popped as he threw more power into his swings. Slowly, he managed to lift himself up and forward. The long carcass dragged behind him, straight at a tangle of roots.
Not. Happening, Mason growled.
With a mighty flap, he ripped the carcass up and into the air.
A few seconds later, he hauled it above the root growth and picked up some upwards momentum from the winds. Mason looked around as his wings and back relaxed, then froze, almost falling back down. A flock of rapidly approaching terror birds was visible just above the treeline.
Are you kidding me? Mason thought as he turned and flapped towards the sea, his throat clenched. He picked up speed but kept glancing behind.
The terror birds were gaining on him. He had to drop the carcass, or they would catch him, but... then what would he eat? He already sensed the weakness in his body growing from the extreme expenditure of the last few minutes. If he lost this prey? He might not be strong enough to catch something else!
Attempting to gain more altitude and speed, he fled across the water, heading towards the small rocky island. Behind him, the sounds of flapping were getting closer. Angrily he looked at the thing he was dragging. His meal! All this trouble for nothing?
The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, but he wasn't stupid. If he got caught, he'd be dead for sure. Still, he held onto the prey, trying to eke out more speed until the first of the birds were so close, he could see their irises dilate. Only then did he drop his prey. With pain in his heart and furious at the birds, he watched it plummet down.
Behind him, most of the terror birds screeched and changed course, diving after the centipede carcass. The rest, a dozen or so, focused their sickly yellow eyes on him, and he could see the hunger in them.
Mason clenched his maw and began fleeing, heading to the distant gray spec, too angry and tired to even come up with any comment.
An hour later, Mason's stomach was a cramped-up mess, and his speed was dropping. At first, he was faster than most of the birds, and the slower ones had turned back, but now those that remained were gaining on him.
As he took another look behind at the five birds chasing him, he noted something he'd not seen before. They were also getting tired! Their flaps were no longer as snappy, and their beaks hung open, tongs lolling out. The hunger still burned unabated in their eyes, however.
Slowly a predatory smile spread across Mason's draconic visage. Only five? He turned his nose forward and gazed at the nearing volcano island.
As his mind spun, he slowed on purpose, trying to conserve what little strength he had left.
Stealing my prey means you owe me one.
A few minutes later, Mason angled down towards the volcano's entrance and heard the angry screeching. Would they follow him in? Better not risk it. If they decided to rest near the volcano and wait him out, he'd be fucked. No, he needed to do this now!
He changed his course and landed on the side of the volcano, a few meters from the entrance. He would have preferred an aerial fight. The problem was that he could barely stay aloft.
Above, the five terror birds circled him, screeching and howling. They sounded more like coyotes than birds.
Still wary? Let's make it more appealing, he thought.
He took a step towards the entrance and faked stumbling, not even having to try too hard. His wings hung down, not neatly curled up on his back.
There was another screech, but this time it sounded different, and he looked up to see the birds dive down.
He crouched down, drawing in as much air as possible, absently noting the red energy particles in the air funnel towards him. There wasn't as much here as inside the volcano, but still, far more than anywhere he had ever seen.
He probably should be afraid, but he'd never been one for that. Instead, he felt a familiar bout of expectation as he waited till the last moment. Right when the first of the birds, claws outstretched and aimed at his eyes, got to him, he acted.
In a single, fluid move that belied his weariness, he rose and roared into the sky, channeling the fire energy. Torrents of flame poured from between his jaws and hit two terror birds, engulfing them. They didn't even manage to scream as their faces melted away. With a jerky motion, they careened into the ground a few meters from him.
All but one of the other birds dodged the flames, but two were not fast enough to avoid all of the fire. They fled back into the air, letting out loud cries of pain. Dark, scorched spots marred their feathery bodies.
A single terror-bird couldn't dodge and rammed into Mason's unprotected side before he could get out of the way. Razorsharp claws sliced against his scales, and he was toppled over by the momentum.
As he rolled over the floor, the terror bird sliced at his face, and Mason's adrenaline spiked. As his mind muddled over with a foreign bloodlust, he ignored the claws and snarled back. He snapped at the bird's thin neck while his double eyelids closed shut to protect his eyes. A claw raked dangerously close to his left eye, then slid over the small, thin scales on his snout, tearing them open. Mason cringed, then his jaws slammed shut around the thin, sinewy neck.
Got you! he thought as he began jerking the bird from left to right in quick jerks.
The bird screeched in panic as it flapped and tried to reach his face again but failed. Mason felt bloody poor along his lips and doubled his efforts. Within seconds, the bird's resistance weakened, then stopped altogether.
Mason dropped the bird and looked at the sky, ready to dish out more hurt. To his surprise, the two remaining birds were no more than small shapes, flying back to the other island. Apparently, they thought the risk of going back was smaller than staying here with him.
He let out a weary roar of victory, more because he felt he had to than anything else. Halfway in, he stumbled, feeling his consciousness flagging.
Worn out, hungry, and in pain, he rubbed the back of his clawed front limb against his face, feeling the slick blood. He shuddered. The talon had gotten even closer to his eye than he initially thought. A few centimeters more, and he might have lost one of his eyes.
Damnit, that was not how he had imagined this to go. Wondering how Jake had managed to find food at the start, he dragged himself to the closest terror bird and stared at it.
His hunger made the ugly, gangly bird look like a delicacy, and he tore open its soft belly, wondering if he could eat all three.
