Battleforged
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Chapter 470 - Breaking Bread with Desperate Dragons
🕑 Added 2024-10-28 04:04:39 +0000 UTCA/N - I'm releasing a longer chapter today, around 7K. Please enjoy :)
A bemused Eric easily kept pace with the sinuously flowing drakes who seemed to swim through the clouds more like sea serpents or dolphins than birds of prey drifting upon air currents. If anything, the trio looked impressed that Eric could so readily keep up his pace with them, after turning down their offer to actually let him ride them with a polite chuckle.
“This boy can actually keep up. How wonderful! He might be exactly what our queen needs,” said the first, most serious looking drake, the other two dipping their serpentine necks in ready agreement as they soared past the wisps that were as much fog as anything else to enter truly thick cloud cover, that felt more like cotton candy, Eric thought with a bemused smile, before that smile turned to a frown, sensing that it was very, very sticky cotton candy at that.
His momentary panic flared hot before he quickly tamped it down, having sensed absolutely no malice or flicker from his danger sense. If anything, his Structural Integrity sense seemed oddly pleased with the cloud cover, and Speed Racer II allowed him to pass through it effortlessly when he declared in very strong terms to a rather bemused interface that this was most definitely air, no matter how spongy, so was totally under the purview of his perk.
At which point his movements became effortless once more. Yet when he broke through with the trio of drakes still conversing animatedly between themselves he stopped cold, breathless with awe as his feet rested upon clouds that were now indeed as porous as sponge cake, and soft loamy soil as well, supporting a sea of rustling silver-tinged grass as the first rays of the morning sun splashed brilliant bars of golden light upon both the shimmering grass and the magnificent ivory white palace soaring hundreds of feet high, with graceful spiraling minarets capped in domes of brilliant electrum with banners flapping in the breeze doubling their height yet again.
Eric gazed for long moments at the majestic-looking palace, not moving a muscle as the trio of drakes first furrowed their expressive countenances before breaking out in pleased grins.
“Do you think he likes it?”
“Of course he likes it! Like a newly hatched wyrmling savoring the smells of the world for the very first time.”
“Excellent. A true admirer! And his first instinct was distinctly not to slice us apart with his blade. How refreshing!”
“True,” said the first sagely. “For as filling as such arrogant swine might be, convenient meals do nothing to avert our peril, or the tragedy about to unfold!”
This alone broke Eric’ free of his reverie. He chose to ignore the implication that these drakes were by no means innocent, that the blood of humans was quite likely on their hands. OR… teeth. So many shiny teeth. But if humans had been the ones to attack first…
Eric winced, knowing that but for a heartbeat’s indecision, such would have been his move as well.
Yet he now sensed, more than ever, that things were definitely off.
Not simply because of the warm bonhomie he had been offered, so very unlike the near universal savagery of most creatures infected by wild magics that weren’t also infused with the story seeds promising such peril and wonder that the System, or perhaps Conceptio, so seemed to favor Contenders stumbling upon. For now he could most assuredly sense a potency far beyond any 90th level beast or half-step Bronze boss he might expect at the very heart of this Red-Tier territory.
He felt a sudden shiver of apprehension.
The killing aura he sensed in the distance… a Lord Wyrm’s killing aura... was as far beyond the Dragon Turtle that had earned him such a sweet title and nearly killed him as that turtle had been from an orc.
This creature wasn’t a jaded 100th level beast with fearsomely hot flame.
The aura pulsing with ever more agitation from just a short distance away was actual Silver.
A Silver-Tier dragon.
And one that his suddenly screaming instincts made clear… had even more character points than he.
“Fuck!” Eric stared at the three smug-looking drakes before him. “Silver. You’re queen’s a Silver! But this territory is limited to Red… and even Black has limits!”
The serpents exchanged looks and snorts of their own. “It looks like he finally understands.”
“Doesn’t it?” The second nodded, while the third gestured towards Eric with his claws. “You’re right. We don’t belong here. Now please, come this way!”
Eric’s guts roiled with sudden dismay.
After all he’d been through, thinking it was finally time to taste the sweet after so much bitter… he was about to face a Silver-Tier monster.
A dragon.
Without his 3 million troops.
Without a multi-mile drop where he had plenty of time to gain sufficient velocity to shatter the sound barrier thirty times over in a stunt that had pulled off a miracle… saturating his core beyond what he suspected any reasonable adventurer of any tier might expect…
And had necessitated him sacrificing an actual Silver-Tier title and boon just to keep his world in one piece after the little stunt.
A feat of madness he had embraced less than an hour ago..
“Fuck,” he whispered, earning a puzzled look from his escorts.
“It’s fine, let’s go,” he said, pretending his throat hadn’t just gone dry, necessitating a long drink from a water flask his Vitality for the most part allowed him to ignore before following the three drakes toward the massive palace that seemed to loom larger and larger as he approached, suddenly certain that when it came to Silver-Tier serpents… yes. There were indeed things that even his Hyperion Blazer–enhanced Elemental Resistance would be hard pressed to counter.
So hard pressed, he might actually be reduced to ash in the blink of an eye.
“And I actually thought I had this entire area in the palm of my hand,” he muttered to himself as he walked like a convict to the sentencing block as he forced dragging feet from grass to marble tiled floors, catching sight of marble sculptures and exquisitely rendered portraits decorating the countless alcoves. An upward glance revealed the entire hallway ceiling done in a glorious fresco depicting this very cloud castle and what seemed a hundred devoted serpentine subjects all paying heed to their enormous queen.
“Our queen will be so DELIGHTED to meet you!” He was assured by the palest of the three drakes now giving him a toothy grin as they approached the massive vaulted double doors towering to a giant’s height, as did the hallway itself.
More than enough for Eric, or the drakes.
He got chills just thinking of how massive a creature would have to be to make full use of this hallway fit for titans.
Yet the being who caught his eye when the doors opened of their own accord made it damn clear that he was once more in way over his head. He stiffened before the sight of a titanic drake covered in glittering pearlescent scales that soared in height like an ancient sauropod and most definitely, without question, radiated the killing might of a true dragon.
Not a drake.
A dragon.
And one that was on the cusp of Silver… or had already broken through.
The look in her massive serpentine eyes of pristine jade when her nostrils flared made it horrifyingly clear that she had taken his measure as well with a single sniff… and understood the nature of the titles he had claimed.
His Quickness might be beyond the pale, yet before he could even finish twisting around and fleeing… NOT fighting but fleeing for all he was worth, because daring this behemoth was beyond stupid without every tool he had at the ready, preferably after a mile-high charge and a sharp-angled descent for a cloud castle that hopefully this time they could strike without any risk of tearing up the mantel of the planet of his birth… the creature spoke.
A full sentence!
In hyperspeak.
Even faster than he.
“Oh, a new guest! Greetings, fare adventurer. Please, be welcome within my hall. Would you care to break bread with me?”
Those words froze Eric where he stood, as well aware as anyone of the historical and cultural significance of breaking bread.
He slowly turned his head to see a table manifesting itself in a shower of golden sparkles and flame that was groaning under the weight of an absolute feast of stews, poached fish, and sizzling spit-roasts of delicious meat.
But it was the desert table just beyond that enticed Eric with its tantalizing treasures, piled high with a dizzying variety of cakes and pies and pastries and tarts. Mounds of cream filled eclairs were heaped next to trays of fudge chocolates surrounding silver plates of frosted cakes towering like miniature castles themselves, beside an artfully crafted waterfall of fudge complete with a frozen tundra of a dozen different flavors of ice cream and dozens of hot fudge sundaes and banana splits perfectly chilled by culinary artistry.
He choked back a sob, witnessing the true beauty of a treasure trove of confectionery masterpieces that begged for an aficionado of the finer things in life to savor them with the tenderness they so richly deserved.
It was all Eric could do to tear his eyes from the true prize of this hall back to his utterly unexpected hostess.
Eric blinked, feeling mental whiplash as the towering behemoth played host, gesturing toward the opposite end of the table from herself, her side utterly without chairs as she rested her coils upon a bed of silk-covered cushions. And her eyes... sure. Totally filled with the promise of obliterating flame. But he could sense the plea in them as well, more surprised than he wanted to admit that he was actually sinking into the chair opposite her across the magnificent table that could feed a galley crew with ease.
Without saying a word, Eric claimed an oversized loaf, dipped it in one of the crocks of butter provided and pointedly sprinkling salt from a small golden tray crusted in jewels, before taking a single bite.
The air was tight with tension, Eric not saying a damn word as the serpent took his measure, then slowly, almost daintily followed suit.
Note! You have Broken Bread with a Silver-Tier Contender! Neither party is permitted to strike or intentionally harm the other or their kin for a period of 24 hours plus the full duration of your present visit, save in GENUINE self-defense! All agreements and accords made during this moot ARE INVIOLATE! To breach accords forged risks oblivion AND the loss of Contender Status!
Eric’s host flashed a smile that looked, quite oddly, just as relieved as Eric felt.
“Wonderful! So good to have your company, brave adventurer. Please, eat and make merry! We shall discuss matters of import after we have a chance to forge an acquaintanceship, yes?”
A bemused Eric nodded as the air filled with the soaring notes of dulcimer and flute plaid by a quartet of elves wearing a festive collage of fabrics and joyous expressions on their features. He blinked, for some reason only noting them at that moment, perhaps because his entire focus had been on the MASSIVE DRAGON seated across from him and he should give himself a break. But he still knew he had failed a Perception check along there somewhere even as he helped himself to massive grilled slabs of meat dipped in a savory lemon seed sauce that another quartet of elven servants were rapidly preparing for him as the queen took a delicate nibble of a massive rhino-like beast they had clearly caught and skewered in preparation for the feast from the critters below, giving a delighted purr.
He gazed for long moments at the deferential pair of Sylvan servants smiling at him, clearly eager to fill his every need.
“So you actually have elves in your employee?”
“Of course!” his host dutifully nodded, the entire chamber thrumming with the magic in her voice. “Absolutely wonderful at tending to our gardens and masters of the culinary arts!” She lowered her voice, miming speaking in confidence, for all that she winked at the smirking elves. “Between you and me, I suspect they enjoy exceedingly sweet bonuses to both agrarian and culinary professions, but they refuse to confirm or deny!”
“It’s true,” the closest servant winked, obviously in on the joke and perfectly at ease with their employer. “Our clan most certainly has any number of prodigies. But as to whether or not we enjoy System-sanctioned bonuses…” The female whispered huskily into Alex’s ear. “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”
Eric was too stunned to do anything but blink. “You’re really here.”
This earned a snort from servant and dragon a like. “Of course we are!”
“But um…” Eric’s gaze filled with concern. “You’re not trapped here, are you?” The young servant’s smile faltered, turning brittle. She stole a look toward the dragon.
Eric’s host sighed, dipping her serpentine head. “Since our dear guest seems eager to discuss the matter before we’ve even finished eating… by all means, Svety, share.”
“By your leave, Princess Irene.”
Eric blinked. “You’re proper title is… Princess Irene?”
The magnificent dragon dipped her head in between dainty bites of the massive carcass before her. “Indeed it is, brave adventurer. And how would you prefer we call you?”
Eric locked eyes with his hostess. “Ernest is fine.”
All the elves present froze, slowly turning to gaze his way with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“You’re, Ernest?” Svety asked, a soft whisper of awe.
As one, the elves fell to one knee before him.
Princess Irene gave Eric a pointed look. “It appears you are a popular one… Ernest. How intriguing!”
“Your Grace, it’s him!” Declared one of chefs, gazing at Eric with way too much focus, arm no longer turning the massive porcine creature crackling under a roaring fire.
“Have a care for the roast!” Eric scolded, absolutely hating the thought of wasting such savory-looking meat.
Meat that would be so very happy in his belly.
The man lurched back, nearly toppling over as he hastily complied, while the others continued to stare far too intently at him.
Irene conveyed furrowing her brow, which was an impressive trick, Eric thought, seeing as she was a dragon.
“And who, exactly, is this Ernest?”
“The hidden half-blood brother of Princess Elonia Silver, direct heiress of our Winter Queen who ascended to the heavens!”
“The one who the System announced saved us all from certain disaster!”
Princess Irene gazed at Eric for long moments. “Is it true? Were you the one who insisted we all clear out of the wildlands between New Arcadia and New York before you crushed us all under your feet?”
Eric forced a chuckle. “Yeah, I wasn’t expecting my comment to get that much traction? Mostly I’m just trying to keep enthusiastic idiots from killing themselves while I’m territory poaching.”
The dragon blinked, staring at Eric for long moments, before snorting. “So bold. So brave! Yet I see no army at your beck and call.”
Eric winked. “Perhaps there was a bit of a buff going on. Who can say? The more people who avoid me while I hunt and level, the safer I am, right? But never mind all that. A quest was offered, and I’m all about earning titles and boons and whatever quest rewards I can, so… yeah. What exactly is the nature of your problem?”
The dragon sighed, putting down her massive roast. “And I truly thought a Silver-Tier titan was making a play for all of New York State. But you’ve broken bread, and that’s all that matters.” She cleared her throat, pointing at Sveta with her snout. “As my graceful assistant was about to explain, we can’t leave. Neither she nor any of my people.”
Eric blinked. “Wait, so something’s stopping you all from crossing over? You’re immobilized when you approach the barrier?”
“Not immobilized so much is there isn’t really any barrier at all,” Svena softly explained.
Eric blinked. “I’m not sure I understand.”
She bit her lip, staring off into the distance. “We can approach what we’re assured is the barrier, but all we see are more stormy wildlands. When we step forward, we’re exactly where we see that we are.” Her features grew pale. “And if we keep on walking… even though the ground appears flat… we find ourselves right back where we started.”
Eric nodded his understanding, humbled by the fear he sensed in the girl’s haunted eyes.
“Sounds like this territory is the only reality for you. You can’t leave, you just end up at the other edge off the boundary which for you is one smooth, contiguous region that loops on itself. Like an ant crawling on an orange… you’re going around and around in circles and you’ll always end up where you started and never be able to leave.”
“Ah. You understand, then. You’d be surprised how difficult a concept it is to convey to some,” Irene declared between dainty bites that nonetheless took out massive chunks of meat.
Eric took a steadying breath, quenching his growing sense of anxiety, a tiny part of him forced to wonder if he was also stuck in the trap.
“Alright, you’re clearly not from here. Can you explain to me what happened, and how you think I can help you break free?”
The massive gave him a thoughtful look. “Hmm. Well, you know your Terra is now considered a world in, how best to put it… rapid ascension?”
Eric winced but nodded, almost certain he knew where she was going with her query. “As in, we’re a newly System integrated world but far too many wild territories are spiking in wild mana with far too many untamed delves. Until we get a handle on that, until we clear out the blacks, we’re at major risk of our world blooming wildly in both size and violence, like a star going supernova… or something to that effect.”
Sveny winced, though Irene dipped her massive head.
“Precisely!” The dragon boomed, her voice echoing sonorously through the entire eating hall. “Thus, with a prize plum in such jeopardy of bursting, the way was opened for a select handful of… ahem… elites, to earn System tickets to enter and… hmm… how best to put it? Help to assimilate your poor doomed world.”
Eric flashed a bitter smile. “In other words, the strictures were lifted and now every overpowered whatever can go grab their piece of the pie.”
Sveny paled.
Irene raised a scaly brow, the tension abruptly spiking.
Eric, perhaps because of the way his heart was pounding and he now REFUSED to give in to his fear, pointedly ate another piece of bread. And smiled.
Perhaps a bit to wide, when Sveny whimpered.
Surprisingly, it was Irene who backed down with a dip of her massive snout. “Point, Ernest. Your words are not untrue. But the way certainly wasn’t open to everyone. Just, well… those like you and me.”
Eric froze. Eyes widening. “Wait. Are you… fuck, are you actually saying that we have to deal with Bronze and Silver tier… not just classers but actual—”
“Contenders.” Serpentine eyes gazed pointedly into Eric’s own. “Yes. That is correct.”
Eric lurched in his seat, feeling a jolt of overwhelming, existential dread. “Fuck. That’s absolute grade A bullshit!”
His panicked, frustrated voice echoed across that vast chamber, but he didn’t care. It was bad enough dealing with regular Bronze-Tier classers. To have to face off against fellow Contenders like himself, enhanced by whatever boons they had managed to claim, warped and shaped by whatever powers allowed them to twist their own fates and claim a portion of their home world’s power for themselves, was an entirely different matter. They were the ultimate wildcards that could skew any hand, as Eric knew all too damned well. It was bad enough fighting White-Tier Contenders which he technically still was. To have to fight creatures who had already ascended to Bronze to whatever degree, even if most hadn’t been transformed quite so wildly as Eric himself… and Silver?
There might actually be Silver-Tier Contenders on Earth now?
“Fuck,” he said again, earning a bemused nod from Sveta.
“Quite,” she said, pointedly having another bit of bread herself, though her loaf was dipped in a vat of chutney. “And now you know a certain ceremony forbidden from your own people no longer.”
Eric, however, would not be so easily soothed. “I know just how fierce Contenders are,” he hissed, voice little more than a whisper.
“First generation Contenders, forged in the very first years of a uniquely potent world-ascension!” Irene clarified with an upraised claw.
Eric quirked his brow, giving his host a deadpan look. “Does that mean that Bronze or Silver-tier Contenders won’t be hunting at least some of us down, forcing us into Highland-esque duels to claim our potency for themselves?”
“There can only be one!” Irene tittered, before laughing at the expression of horror on Eric’s features.
“I’m joking!” She assured, then sighed. “But… no. Nothing is stopping headhunters from plying their trade, save for the… ahem… understanding reached, the bargain struck that has to do with stabilizing this world.”
Eric blinked. “Really? Oh that’s a relief! So you mean all our new guests have to leave native-born alone and just focus on clearing out Black-Tier territories?”
“Not in the least!” his hostess assured. “They can do whatever they like, of course.”
Eric blanched.
She had the gall to wink. “But here’s the inescapable truth that all new arrivals must keep in mind at all times. Anyone who accepts the invite is forbidden to leave. That means their fates are tied to Earth’s own. So they have a vested interest in keeping this world stable. So of course, they we will focus on taming wild territories and dungeons tapping far too strongly into this world’s primal core.”
She paused, taking a thoughtful nibble of her roast.
“Eventually.”
Eric blinked. “What the hell does eventually mean?”
“It means that eventually we’ll get to it. Once we’ve um…”
“Taken over all the easy territories claimed by the silly primitive natives.”
“Exactly!” She enthused. “First, we claim the low hanging fruit, establish our factions and come to general accords, and then, once an understanding is reached, we work on harnessing all the untapped potential of this world.”
Eric clenched his jaw, put down his food, and glared right at his hostess. “Surprising as it might be to hear, most natives have no desire to be further conquered or ‘helped’ by foreign factions. Most especially not when they could all too easily turn out to be… let’s not mince words here... power mad tyrants.”
The Dragon Queen stiffened, neck frills abruptly flaring.
Svety choked back a whimper. The musicians’ performance ground to a halt.
Eric’s heart was pounding, instincts screaming warning, but all he did was smile, feeling his lips stretch so very wide because he was so fucking tired of scheming assholes, self-aggrandizing tyrants, and power-mad FUCKS who thought his world was their goddamned plaything.
He locked gazes with Irene, massive serpent glaring so hard at the relatively tiny human… yet somehow it was her neck frills that folded, her stiffened posture that eased into a tired sigh.
“My, what sharp teeth you have, Ernest.”
“No one’s conquering my world, Irene.”
Irene gave him a pointed look. “Except you.”
Eric’s impossible smile widened even further. “Damn right.” then, before any twisted fate cards could fuck with him or his gifts, he declared aloud… “I’m catch and release, though. I conquer territories, but I have absolutely no interest in ruling them.”
Irene blinked, gazing at him for long moments. “Are you serious?”
“As the grave.”
“You go to the trouble of claiming wild territories and you don’t even…” She closed her eyes in obvious concentration, Eric feeling a tiny prickle of… something, several steps removed.
The dragon hissed. “You have not one territory to your name. Not one!”
“Nope, not a single one.”
“But… why?”
Eric tilted his head thoughtfully… before smiling. “I’ll share something with you, Irene, but It’s with the understanding that you will keep what I say in confidence, to the extent you can, free of torture or duress, until I release you from said vow.” His voice hardened. “Bound by the bread and salt we shared.”
The dragon gazed at Eric for long, hard moments as the Sylvan band played an anxious tune before slowly dipping her massive head. “Not unreasonable or inconsiderate. Very well. Tell me this secret that needs to be so tightly bound by—”
“So, what stance do elite Bronze and Silver Contenders have with Blue Corp? Is it a bloody free-for-all?”
Irene’s curious gaze hardened. “You’d better not be binding me to oaths, simply because Blue Corp serves as your factor!”
Eric grinned. “Not my factor. Because as I said, I claim neither territory nor ruling title at all. As for my heritage… I’m strictly a free agent, regardless of unexpected twists of birth or inherited station.”
Irene looked more than a bit put out. Eric decided he was okay with that.
“To answer your question,” she huffed, “Most of us aren’t so stupid as to antagonize such a useful tool. But that doesn’t hold for everyone.”
Eric sighed. “This just gets better and better.”
The dragon’s coils rustled with displeasure. “Are you seriously going to hold me to an oath that is in all likelihood common knowledge? When my cohorts discuss the nuances of Contenders of note, such as yourself, speaking of your holdings and their intentions, I don’t want to be damned simply because I tilted my head in acknowledgment of what they already know!”
Eric held the irate dragon’s gaze for long moments before slowly dipping his head. “Fair point. You’re released from that oath of confidence…” The dragon’s features eased into a pleased grin. “Around anyone who already knows. Fair enough?”
Irene glared pointedly at Eric for several moments before dipping her head. “Not entirely unreasonable.”
“Good.” Eric’s hard gaze softened. “And none of that changes the fact that you and your hundred or so drake soldiers? Are trapped here, and you’d all like to be free.”
“Well, of course we would!” She enthused. “And we’d be willing to reward our champion…”
Quickness check made!
Light flashed in an explosion of color, but Eric had already ducked, protecting his eyes. Yet he froze for a heartbeat, holding himself back before embracing the peril of his fury, and was grateful that he had.
For his Danger Sense wasn’t flaring, though other elements were certainly caught off guard when a husky voice caressed his ear.
“...With all sorts of delicious prizes.”
Eric spun around to face what appeared to be a strikingly beautiful and exceedingly voluptuous elf with a golden cast to her skin and just the slightest hint of scales along her lower arms and legs, her nails ending in glossy ebony points, but otherwise her features were flawless. Beyond flawless.
And radiating the pressure of someone who had broken through all the way to Silver.
Though how far she was up that ladder he couldn’t be certain. He doubted it was that far… but still. He sensed her potency in her present form, and so much more.
Eric flushed with shame under her sensual smile, now matter how adorable tiny fangs looked against glossy red lips, but he refused to feel anything at all after being unable to rescue Elly or her Rising Sun companions.
His nose flared with the scents of jasmine and sandalwood when soft arms wrapped around him, whispering in his ear as the Sylvan music turned wistful.
“You might not believe this, but I have no interest in slaughtering innocent natives, Ernest. My followers and I would even be willing to take an oath to that effect… should you manage to free us.”
Eric blinked at this. Thoughts racing along unexpected directions. Because as much as he dreaded the thought of yet more high-powered invaders raiding the feasting table of his world… there was a lot to be said, an awful lot to be said, about friendly neighbors… and choice fat income.
Eric turned to face the strikingly beautiful woman now gazing so intently, so hungrily at him.
“Before we come to any sort of arrangement, I need assurances that you won’t be seeking to claim any territory claimed by Terran or Sylvan hands.”
Irene’s lips curved in a please grin. “Ah, you wish to protect both your tribes. Very well, Ernest. That is a more than acceptable concession.”
Eric grinned. “Of course it goes without saying that you’re not to encourage any other faction by direct or indirect means to target human or elven territories such that they would claim them in your steed for whatever reason… such as you deciding to then seize those lands from the interlopers yourself.”
Irene snorted, the scent of rose petals filling Eric’s nostrils. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Golden eyes held his own. “Is there anything else you’d request in return for an oath to help free us?”
Eric froze at that, forcing a hard smile even as he gazed into the eyes of a Silver-tier tyrant who was giving off a certain something that made him dizzy with feelings he desperately strove to suppress
“First tell me the nature of your dilemma. Whatever you can. And I’ll see what I can do. I can make no more promise than a good faith effort to see if I can grant you succor… or beg the help of some rather powerful acquaintances who just might have an answer for you.”
The dragon princess, now disguised as the most voluptuous of elves, pouted, though her eyes were cold, calculating, and perilous…
Yet the smile she gave him then was genuine.
“More than fair, Ernest.” Delicate fingertips stroked his cheek.
His heart was pounding. For some reason, he didn’t stop her touch. He couldn’t even say why.
“And please know that regardless of any other arrangements… should you manage to free us…” She bit her lip, soft golden eyes gazing imploringly up into his own. “You’ll have my undying gratitude, and my assurance that no deliberate harm will come to you or yours from my House.”
Her smile was like the warm midday sun breaking free of the gloom. “In fact, I’d be more than willing to count you and your clan as… allies.”
Eric blinked at that.
Her fingers reached down to squeeze his hand. “Now, as to the nature of our dilemma.” She sighed. “We are plagued by a Hunter, Ernest. A hunter at least as powerful as myself.”
Eric froze at those words. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re not a half-step Silver. At the very least.”
This earned a bemused smile, but sadly no more. “He’s a Contender. Like you. Like me.” She sighed. “And more than anything else, he favors the hunt.” She glared at her shoulder, as if the flawless limb covered by the sheerest silk gown had betrayed her. “Do you see the crimson sigil upon my innocent flesh?”
Eric blinked, seeing nothing… until suddenly he did. Feeling a shiver at the crimson hate radiating from the tiny mark on her limb. “I do.”
For some reason she stiffened at his words. “Then it’s worse than I thought,” she whispered, gazing up at him with haunted eyes. “It means he’s closing the distance.”
Eric’s jaw clenched. “Are you asking me to help you kill him?”
She gave an anxious chuckle. “If only you could!” She anxiously shook her head. “This is an element of his power. Wearing his mark is inviting his doom.”
“Another asshole the System offered citizenship to.”
She adamantly shook her head. “No, Ernest. Not at all! It would be more accurate to say that the bastard hitched a ride to my soul.” She scowled, glaring out one of the grand stained glass windows lighting up the grand hall. “I thought I was free of his doom, his mark, when I accepted the invitation I had been given perhaps a bit too… ahem… enthusiastically. Yet I was desperate. Me and my House have been fleeing this bastard for over a year. Because with this mark, my defenses mean NOTHING against him. Worse, since I’m a Contender, I dare not admit my weakness, my vulnerability to anyone, lest any mercenary organization sell my weakness to another Contender!”
She held his gaze intently. “And my confession ALSO counts as words of peril that you dare convey to no other living soul unless I say otherwise, Ernest. I don’t care how badly they torture you!”
Eric winced as his interfaced blared a cheerful warning about what would happen if he dared to reveal her confidence to any other living soul. Which was bullshit, since he had made no agreement to keep those words in confidence, but whatever. A tiny cynical part of him glad she didn’t realize exactly what she was dealing with, with him. Yet he understood her stress, her dismay, so gave her the reassuring nod of someone who sympathized with her plight. Not someone suddenly caged into a very unforgiving commitment.
“I understand,” he said.
“Good. Because the moment I arrived, the moment I anchored myself to this territory, the trap was sprung!”
Eric blinked. “Wait, you’re saying he somehow anchored you to this region and his own soul to you, so you’re, what, drawing him here?”
She flashed a pained grimace, Eric seeing, for the first time, genuine vulnerability in her eyes. “Yes, Eric. If you’re unable to help me break free before he arrives…” her delicate features paled. “I fear the results won’t be good for me or you or this world.”
Eric blinked. “Fuck.” He licked suddenly dry lips. “Okay. You need to break free. Please tell me you have at least some idea of how to…”
She quickly nodded. “I do,” she hastily assured. “I have a close friend in the city of New York. She is something of a treasure hunter and a student of enchantments of all sorts. She… she knows of our plight. She should have results by now! Please escort her here and assist us until she’s completed whatever ritual she must. That is the boon I would ask of you.” Her eyes flashed. “The only boon that I would ask of you.”
Eric gazed at the anxious looking Irene before her, the naked vulnerability in her gaze reminding him so much of Elly that it tore his heart. “Alright,” he finally finally said in a daze, as much to the ghost of the girl he couldn’t save as to the powerful dragon who also smelled like an elven maiden terrified for her life… and Eric could sense no deception in either form.
Her features lit up with desperate hope.
“I’ll make a good faith effort to find your friend and bring her to you, assuming she’s completed her research and is amenable. I won’t kidnap her unwillingly, and that’s assuming I can find her,” he quickly clarified, lest she expect, or the System, expect a miracle.
Her brilliant smile grew strained, but she solemnly bowed her head. “And in return, I swear for your efforts that neither me nor mine will seek to conquer human or Sylvan settlements… unless you say otherwise. For there are a hundred different human factions, no?”
Eric smirked. “True. As far as specific boons beyond a promise to act charitably to the natives…”
Her soft fingertip gently pressed against his lips. She smiled and shook her head. “Let me choose the gift, Ernest. I pray that you will. For I promise that it will be a treasure you prize, or you may ask for another and may keep both, with my blessing. Is that fair?”
Eric blinked at this, his heart roaring in his ears for some reason as her golden eyes implored with his own.
“Sure,” he found himself saying, more huskily than he had intended. “Just… yeah. If you could not conquer or eat humans or elves that aren’t psychopathic assholes once you get out, that would be awesome. And I’ll do my best to find your friend and bring her here, assuming she’s amenable?”
Irene darted forward with speed that shocked him. Wrapping her arms around him.
Yet his flare of alarm turned to awkwardly holding a woman sobbing in his arms. A woman who might be monstrously strong, even in her Sylvan form, yet her tears smelled genuine.
And when she pulled away, she was actually flushing. “Thank you, Ernest. I…” she gave an embarrassed chuckle. “I’ve been chased and hounded, cursed by this crippling mark for over a Terran year and I forget, sometimes, how emotional and… needy. And hungry this form can be,” she said with a pointed look at a bemused Eric’s chest.
Eric nodded sympathetically, eyeing once more the table piled high with confectionery delights.
“Believe me, I understand hunger. I don’t suppose you mind if I take a few things with me?”
The air filled with warm peels of golden laughter. “By all means, Ernest. Take whatever treat suits your fancy.”
He flashed a too wide smile before blinking in surprise, totally not expecting her to nip his shirt before grinning up at him, her fingers closing his hand upon a vellum sheet. “This has our associate’s name and address and, in addition to keeping her abreast of our worsening predicament, should convince her that your offer of escort is genuine. I… used strong magics to transcribe it, such that not even that bastard of a hunter can sense what it tells you.”
Eric nodded. “I understand.”
“Good.” She gave his hand a desperate squeeze. “Then please hurry, Eric Silver. The sooner you can find my friend, the more time we have to free me before that monster closes the distance and hunts down every Contender that he can. One marked victim at a time.”
Eric bowed his head in solemn deference to the magnitude of the threat they all faced before revealing just how fast he was, vanishing before a single servant could even gasp.
But not before claiming the entirety of the desert table.
***
The three boys quietly observed their queen and so much more talking so animatedly to the redheaded elf.
“Do you think he’ll accept?” The smallest one asked worriedly.
The largest dipped his head. “I’m almost certain of it! Oh, look at his eyes. Wide like a puppies. See how he nods his head and…” The boy blinked, rubbing his eyes. “Where did he go?”
The middle child gasped, his hopeful gaze turning to horrified dismay. “I don’t know, but that fucker just stole all our eclairs... and everything else worth eating!”
As one, all three children froze when the woman’s hope-filled smile turned to an exhausted sigh, as she cradled her heads in her arms.
The three alarmed lads rushed forward.
“Mother, what’s wrong?”
“Why are there tears leaking out of your eyes?”
“Is it because he stole all our deserts?”
And perhaps most importantly. “Why are we now all in this shape?”
Irene’s lips curved in a wistful smile. She flashed ivory white teeth before kissing the brows of her sons. “Because, my children, my show of strength failed to humble him. Not once did he make an offer of alliance, seeing how powerful an ally even a newly blossomed Silver would be in his conquest.”
She sighed, giving a confused shake of her head. “When he saw my might, my prowess, he thought nothing of the glory of fighting by my side. He was fueled only by the challenge of besting me. Eyes so wild with killing intent that had I not embraced a basic formality to put him at ease…”
The youngest boy paled. “No, Mother. He wouldn’t have hurt you! Surely?”
Her smile became strained. “He smells of loss and confusion. A wild animal that has been hounded and tormented. Like us. So I embraced my instinct and became something soft and vulnerable. Something, or someone, that perhaps he would want to protect.”
The oldest boy gave her a look. “And should he manage to save us, will you claim him?”
Irene eyes lit with a mischievous grin. “One step at a time, Fitz. First, let’s see if he can reach Maybel. Should your aunt have finally puzzled out the lock and free us… then I will give him a boon worthy of a dragon queen’s freedom.”
The middle child trembled. “Mother, what happens if he fails to bring her? What happens if Aunty hasn’t solved the riddle of our capture?”
The woman said nothing, merely gathering her children into her arms and holding them tightly as the solemn-faced elves played a soothing melody, their eyes filled with all the desperate worry that the tired queen kept from her own countenance as best she could.
Comments
S_Winter
Ah, now this is more like it 😀
Nibbles
Enjoyble read .................... thank you.
M van Dongen
Now there's motivation for you.
